Safe in Noah's Arms
Community service never looked so good Monica Accord knows trends, not tractors…fashion, not fertilizer. But she's stuck working on Noah Cameron's farm after one mistake lands her with community service. Monica remembers Noah from high school, but she definitely never knew about the crush he had on her. Now it just feels as if she's some bothersome city slicker.Yet she soon realizes there's more growing between her and Noah than just crops–a lot more. As long as the revelation of a family secret doesn't ruin their chance of a lifetime…
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Community service never looked so good
Monica Accord knows trends, not tractors...fashion, not fertilizer. But sheâs stuck working on Noah Cameronâs farm after one mistake lands her with community service. Monica remembers Noah from high school, but she definitely never knew about the crush he had on her. Now it just feels as if sheâs some bothersome city slicker.
Yet she soon realizes thereâs more growing between her and Noah than just cropsâa lot more. As long as the revelation of a family secret doesnât ruin their chance of a lifetime...
âHere, tell me what you think.â
She held her wrist near his face. He bent to sniff, his lips accidentally touching her warm skin.
He jerked away. Crouching this close to her was hard enough, but his lips touching her? Even a spot as innocent as her wrist, with her blood beating warmly just below the surface.
âWhat change did I make to my perfume today?â
Wary, because his lust threatened to undo him, but also curious, he leaned close again, damn careful not to make contact.
âSpice. Incredibly subtle.â He sniffed again. âCinnamon. No, cloves.â
Her smile enhanced the loveliness of the day. âHow do you do that? Youâre right. Itâs cloves. Not much, though, because its scent can overpower everything else.â
She dropped her arm into her lap and he missed her nearness, even though he knelt right beside her. How incredible must it feel to lie beside her?
I have always loved stories about the attraction of opposites, about those people who knock us off our feet no matter how hard we resist! We know we shouldnât be attracted, but *sigh* we are.
Monica and Noah appeared as secondary characters in In from the Cold. I wanted them to have their own stories, but with each other? Never! They were wily, though. They started sneaking around behind my back, then demanded that I write their romance.
Monica is all about designer clothing; Noah wears Birkenstocks and army surplus. She loves fashion magazines; he reads Kierkegaard. She is refined and elegant; he is an environment-loving farmer.
Despite all of his efforts to the contrary, Noah is in love with Monica. The more Monica gets to know Noah, the more trouble she has resisting him. In the end, they fall in love. The attraction of opposites triumphs again.
I hope you enjoy this story! I loved writing it.
Mary Sullivan
Despite growing up in a large city, MARY SULLIVAN loves to write about small towns. Maybe because of the countless hours spent as a child listening to her motherâs fascinating stories about life in rural Newfoundland. Since her days working in commercial darkrooms, Mary has gravitated toward careers that require creativity, alone in her own private space. Her interests are simple: cooking, entertaining, reading and long walks on nature trails. And puzzles! She canât get enough of cryptic crosswords! She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website, www.marysullivanbooks.com, where readers can also sign up for her newsletter.
Contents
Standing amid the hustle and bustle swirling around her like a colorful carousel, Monica Accord thought back to when it all started. She wasnât a violent person, but she thanked her lucky stars that she broke Noah Cameronâs arm all of those years ago.
* * *
THERE WERE THREE kinds of days in Monica Accordâs lifeâdays when she didnât care, days when she knew she should care and the odd, rare day when she actually did care.
This morning, driving onto Noah Cameronâs organic farm outside of Accord, Colorado, she cared.
Too bad. Life would be easier if she didnât have a conscience.
She parked beside Noahâs ancient pickup truck, which was next to a big old farmhouse that appeared to be abandoned. White paint peeled from the railing on the veranda. One eaves trough hung askewâit was a forgotten house, the owner off to parts unknown without a backward glance.
Was she at the wrong place? She had understood it to be a working farm.
Yesterday, the courtâs directions to the farm had been clear. The address was correct. This had to be the right place, but she couldnât be sure. Situated as it was down the highway that ran south from Accord, instead of north toward the attraction of Denverâs shopping centers, it ran counter to Monicaâs internal compass. She rarely drove out this way.
And no one came out of the farmhouse to greet her.
She glanced at her watchâ7:00 a.m. Maybe Noah was already up and out in the fields, or maybe he was already in town at his store. Maybe she wouldnât have to face him this morning.
She could live with that. The shame burning a hole through her stomach concurred. Though at least the shame was better than emptiness. Something, anything, was better than nothing.
