âGive me your hand.â
She couldnât stop laughing at the sight of this rugged guy sporting blue nail polish. She took the bottle of nail polish remover from the cupboard along with several cotton balls.
She forced herself to look only at the nail she was working on and not his face. But with each swipe of the cotton ball, she grew more and more conscious of how nice his hands were.
Touching him stirred an unwelcome attraction. But she was impressed with his willingness to let the girls cover him in stickers and paint his fingernails. She wouldnât have expected that from a die-hard bachelor. Aware of the tension between them, Lainie cleared her throat and attempted light conversation. âMy girls can be very persuasive.â
âA couple of little charmers. They told me this color matched my eyes.â
âOh, no. Your eyes arenât sky blue, theyâre cobalt like those old bottlesâ¦â She froze. What was wrong with her?
âIâm partial to brown eyes myself.â
She had brown eyes.
LORRAINE BEATTY was raised in Columbus, Ohio, but now calls Mississippi home. She and her husband, Joe, have two sons and five grandchildren. Lorraine started writing in junior high and is a member of RWA and ACFW and is a charter member and past president of Magnolia State Romance Writers. In her spare time she likes to work in her garden, travel and spend time with her family.
Chapter One
âMommy, can we go home now? Iâm tired of coloring.â
Lainie Hollings fought back the nausea churning in her stomach and gently stroked her youngest daughterâs hair. âNot yet, Chrissy. Why donât you use the green crayon for a while?â
A weary sigh accompanied the nodding of the little head. Lainie watched her girls, six-year-old Natalie and four-year-old Christiana, as they scribbled on the pages the officer at the Dover Mississippi Police Station had given them to keep them entertained. They couldnât go home because they had no home to go to. Her job as assistant to Mrs. Forsythe, a wealthy businesswoman in Memphis, Tennessee, had ended when her employer had moved away for health reasons. Thankfully, Lainie had quickly landed the position as head librarian for the Dover Public Library.
Today was their moving day. This morning, she had been filled with excitement and bursting with hope. This move marked the culmination of a dream she and her husband had once shared. Theyâd planned to leave Baton Rouge and its big city life behind and move to a small town where they could grow their family in a friendly, nurturing environment. Theyâd been saving for a house, but she had been forced to use the money for Craigâs funeral instead. Alone and pregnant with their second child, sheâd moved to Jackson, Tennessee, to live with her mother and gone back to school at night to get her degree.
The past five years had been difficult, moving from place to place, job to job. The librarian position was her chance to find a permanent home.
So, theyâd come to Dover a few days early to find a place to live and check into child care. It was supposed to be a fun trip discovering their new home. Instead, they were sitting in a police station, the victims of a crime. As they had been leaving a local restaurant, a man had shoved Lainie against her car, waved a gun in her face, then yanked her purse from her arm and fled. Thankfully, sheâd already put the girls in the car. But all she had left were the car keys she held in her hand, and eight dollars and thirty-four centsâchange from lunch, which sheâd shoved into the pocket of her cotton slacks.
The moment replayed in her mind like a scene from a horror film, tightening the vise of fear around her chest. She lowered her head into her hands, fighting to keep the rising panic at bay. How was she going to take care of her girls? Where would they stay? Sheâd set aside money for a motel, but now, without a credit card or cash, that was impossible. Tears welled in her eyes and she brushed them away quickly, not wanting the children to see her upset. But she was barely holding it together.