This time, it has to be forever
Emily Jordan has been in and out of Salem Pearceâs life for years. As an archaeologist, her work often took her far awayâeven when he asked her to stay. She called it bad timing. He called it running away. Now sheâs back and asking for one last chance.
But Salem is a single father with more than himself to think about. If he gives Emily another shot and she takes off again, itâll hurt his daughters, too. He canât take that risk. But deep down, he needs Emily. He always has. Maybe this time sheâll stayâ¦.
âWhatâs wrong, Emily?â
Salem laid her on the sofa in his office. When he tried to let her go, she grasped his shirt.
Even through her clothing, her skin burned. Just like Emily to come here like this, to bring mayhem into his well-ordered existence. She liked drama. He liked peace. She liked chaos. He needed order.
âEmily,â he said, keeping his voice low to soothe her as he would a skittish animal. âI need to get water.â
She nodded. âYes. Water.â
Even so, she didnât ease her grip.
âLet go.â He became stern. âIâll come back.â
âPromise?â Her insecurity tore at him. Trouble roiled in her witchy blue-hazel eyes.
Where was his confident, brash Emily? What happened to you?
âIâm always here for you, Emily. You know that.â
She smiled so sweetly it broke his heart. Yes, Salem was always here for her, but she wasnât always there for him.
Dear Reader,
Always Emily is my tenth Mills & Boon Superromance book. I canât tell you how much I enjoy writing them and living my dream job!
In this story, I deal with two large issuesâthe first of finding trust again once itâs been broken, and the second of rebuilding ourselves after the choices weâve made backfire.
In every life, there will be issues and hardships. I called up difficult circumstances in my past, when I learned I was strong enough to not only survive, but also thrive. At the time, it required a lot of flexibility and adaptability. To give my characters depth in this novel, I delved into the emotions I felt back then.
When I write, I look for tidbits of insight or wisdom to pass along through my charactersâ journeys and often look at what others around me are dealing with. Ultimately, though, I come back to my own journey and the lessons Iâve learned. These inform my stories.
I hope you enjoy reading Always Emily as much as I did writing it.
Mary Sullivan
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mary grew up a daydreamer amid the pop and fizz of Torontoâs multicultural community, wondering why those around her didnât have stories rattling around in their brains, too. This novel involves an archeologist and a museum curator, dovetailing with her enjoyment of all of historyâs lively stories. New ideas continue to pop into her head, often at the strangest moments. Snatches of conversations or newspaper articles or song lyricsâeverything is fodder for her imagination. Be careful what you say around her. It might end up in a novel! She loves to hear from readers. To learn more about Mary or to contact her, please visit her at www.marysullivanbooks.com
For eleven years, I was a member of an amazing critique group. It ran its course and is over now, but I will be grateful to these wonderful women for the rest of my days. We learned to write together, laughed a lot and inspired each other to be better writers, to do our best always.
My utmost respect and admiration go out to Ann Lethbridge, Maureen McGowan, Molly OâKeefe and Sinead Murphy.
Simply put, I am in awe of your talent.
CHAPTER ONE
One year ago
âYOU COULD ALWAYS STAY here with me,â Salem Pearce whispered into the velvety night, his butter-soft voice a contrast to the chirrups of crickets in the tall grasses lining the road.
G. veletis. Spring crickets. Only the males sing. Like crickets, men had their calling, courtship and rivalry songs. Emily Jordan had heard them all. In her experience, men were full of bluster.
But not Salem. Not her friend of few words.
These words shocked her. Even more, they frustrated her because his timing couldnât be worse.
âIâve waited years for you to ask me that,â she said fiercely. âHow could you do this to me now? The night before my flight out?â
âYouâre always catching a flight.â The bitterness in his voice might have been justified if not for their history. She wasnât the only one who had turned away in the past. âYouâre always leaving.â
The pale moon shone on hair as black as a cricketâs back and sent his deep-set eyes, as dark as the night weaving through the woods beside them, into shadow. His Native American skin, honey-gold in sunlight, glowed darker in the moonlight. An intensity she hadnât seen before hardened his features.
âOf course Iâm always leaving,â she answered. âBecause I donât work here. My livelihood takes me everywhere but here.â