Emmett

Dear Reader,

I really can’t express how flattered I am and also how grateful I am to Harlequin Books for releasing this collection of my published works. It came as a great surprise. I never think of myself as writing books that are collectible. In fact, there are days when I forget that writing is work at all. What I do for a living is so much fun that it never seems like a job. And since I reside in a small community, and my daily life is confined to such mundane things as feeding the wild birds and looking after my herb patch in the backyard, I feel rather unconnected from what many would think of as a glamorous profession.

But when I read my email, or when I get letters from readers, or when I go on signing trips to bookstores to meet all of you, I feel truly blessed. Over the past thirty years I have made lasting friendships with many of you. And quite frankly, most of you are like part of my family. You can’t imagine how much you enrich my life. Thank you so much.

I also need to extend thanks to my family (my husband, James, son, Blayne, daughter-in-law, Christina, and granddaughter, Selena Marie), to my best friend, Ann, to my readers, booksellers and the wonderful people at Harlequin Books—from my editor of many years, Tara, to all the other fine and talented people who make up our publishing house. Thanks to all of you for making this job and my private life so worth living.

Thank you for this tribute, Harlequin, and for putting up with me for thirty long years! Love to all of you.

Diana Palmer

The prolific author of more than a hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A multi–New York Times bestselling author and one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.

Visit her website at www.DianaPalmer.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Peggy in North Carolina, with much love!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

The office was in chaos. Melody Cartman eyed the window ledge with keen speculation and wondered if standing out there might get her a few minutes’ reprieve. She glanced toward her newly married third cousin, Logan Deverell, and his beaming wife, Kit, and decided that she couldn’t spoil their honeymoon.

“You’ll cope,” Kit promised in a whisper. “Just tell everyone he’ll be back in touch with them next week and that Tom Walker is handling all his accounts until he returns.”

“Has he told Mr. Walker that?” Melody asked, acutely aware of Mr. Walker’s temper. Tom had started out in New York City, but circumstances had brought him to Houston. Texas, he’d once said, reminded him a little of his native South Dakota. Melody had often wondered if he’d been brought up by a mountain lion there, because on occasion he could give a pretty good imitation of one.

“Honest.” Kit put her hand over her heart. “I swear Logan spoke to him first this time. I heard him with my own ears.”

“That’s all right then. Honestly he seemed like such a nice man when I first met him. But I took him that client of Mr. Deverell’s and found him involved in giving another client the bum’s rush out the door. Our client and the other client both ran for it, and I was left to face the music. He never used a bad word or the same word twice, but I was three inches shorter when I escaped from his office.”

“Logan is your third cousin. Can’t you call him Logan?”

Melody glanced toward the big, dark man on the telephone in his office. “Not without a head start,” she said finally.

“Anyway, he didn’t volunteer Tom without mentioning it to him this time, so you won’t get your ears burned. Think you can handle everything for a week?”

“If I can’t cope by now, I’ll never be able to,” Melody said, and her brave smile made her look almost pretty. She was a tall woman, very country-looking in some ways, with freckles and a softly rounded face that was framed by long, blond-streaked light brown hair. Her eyes were brown, with tiny flecks of gold in them. If she took the time, she could look very attractive, Kit thought. But Melody wore jumpers with long-sleeved blouses, or tailored suits, and always in colors that were much better suited to the coloring of someone with dark hair and an equally dark complexion.

“You’d like Tom if you got to know him,” Kit told her. “He knocked that man out the door for some pretty blatant sexual harassment of his secretary. He’s only bad tempered when he needs to be, and he’s all alone except for a married sister back home and a nephew. He doesn’t even go out with women.”

“I can see why…!”

“Not nice,” Kit chided. “He’s a good-looking, intelligent man, and he’s rich.”

“I can think of at least one ax murderer with the same description. I read about him in there.” She gestured toward one of the supermarket tabloids.