Matt glanced at his watch as he followed her into the hall, and she knew he was eager to head back over to the park.
But when they made their way down the stairs and into the empty living room, he frowned.
âWhere did the babysitter go?â
âI sent her home.â She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt, because now that they were really alone, her stomach was in such a mess of knots she didnât think theyâd ever untangle.
âI thought we were going back to the park to see the fireworks.â
âI changed my mind.â
âDonât I get a vote?â
She shook her head. âNo, but you have a choice.â
âWhat choice is that?â Matt asked her.
She lifted her arms to link them around his neck. âYou can go back to the park for the fireworksââ her fingers cupped the back of his head, drew it down toward hers ââor we can make some of our own right here.â
And then she kissed him.
BRENDA HARLEN grew up in a small town, surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as an attorney (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her ârealâ job to be a mum and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first bookâan RWA Golden Heart winner.
Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (too many books, according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with real people. Readers can contact Brenda by email at [email protected].
Because this series is about brothers, this book
is dedicated to Brett (AKA âBILâ).
You became my brother when you married my sister,
and through all the years that youâve been part of our family youâve proven yourself to be a terrific husband and a wonderful fatherâa true romantic hero.
(PS Youâre a pretty good brother-in-law, too.)
The house was finally, blissfully quiet.
Georgia Reed mentally crossed her fingers as she sat down at the antique dining room table, hoping for one hour. If she could have a full sixty minutes to focus on the manuscript pages spread out in front of her, she might actually catch up on her work. Unfortunately, the thought of catching a nap was much more tempting than the book she was currently reading.
Though she was officially on maternity leave from her job as an associate editor at Tandem Publishing, she had agreed to accept work on a contract basis to help out the senior editor and keep some money coming in. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but Georgia hadnât been nearly as productive as sheâd hoped to be, especially since sheâd uprooted her kids and moved to Pinehurst only six weeks earlier.
She sipped from the cup of herbal tea sheâd reheated for a third time and skimmed through the previous chapter to refresh her memory. But just as her mind began to focus on the story, it occurred to her that it was too quiet.
The realization kicked her protective instincts into overdrive. She pushed her chair away from the table and raced across the hall to the living room, where sheâd left four-year-old Quinn and Shane with a pile of building blocks. The carpet was littered with the chunky pieces but her boys were both goneâno doubt through the wide-open patio door.
The door had been closed when she settled the boys down to playâclosed and locked. But the lock was tricky, and sometimes just tugging on the handle would allow the latch to slip and the lock to slide free. Sheâd talked to her mother about getting it fixed, but apparently that detail had slipped Charlotteâs mind.
And now her children were gone.
She hurried back to the dining room to grab the baby monitor before racing out the back door.
âQuinn! Shane!â She ran across the deck, cursing when she stepped on a red block. They couldnât have gone far. Sheâd only left them in the room a few minutes earlier. If anything had happenedâ
No, she couldnât even complete the thought.
âQuinn! Shane!â
A flash of movement caught the corner of her eye, and she spun around, her heart sinking when she didnât see the boysâ familiar faces but the shadowed jaw of a grown man standing on the grass.
âAre you looking for two little guys about yayââ he held a hand about three and a half feet off the ground ââhigh?â
âDid you see where they went?â she asked hopefully, desperately.
âThey wandered into my backyard.â He gestured toward the adjoining property.
Georgia closed her eyes so he wouldnât see that theyâd filled with tears. âOh, thank you, God.â
âActually, my nameâs MattâMatt Garrett.â
She opened her eyes again and saw that he was smiling at her.
âAnd your kids are fine,â he promised her.
âOnly until I get my hands on them,â she muttered.