It Started with a House....
It's the kind of house widowed real estate agent Genevieve Gale once dreamed about for herself. Instead she handpicked it for the Roarks, a married couple. But by the time handsome millionaire Marshall Roark moved in, he was a widower. And when he sought comfort in Genevieve's arms, she offered him everything she had, expecting nothing in return.Even after discovering she was expecting his child.Marshall immediately proposed marriage–out of obligation, she was sure. And though she didn't want him to "have to" marry her, she did long to say yes. To the man she now loved. And to turn the house she'd coveted into the home she longed for.
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As he lowered his head, she whispered, “Marshall, please don’t.”
“Stop thinking for once. Just for one minute…feel…me.”
His kiss was as tender and coaxing as his words, his lips brushing hers before skimming over to her cheek and chin, then back to her mouth. With slightly more pressure, he parted her lips. Genevieve tried to stop him again by touching her fingers to his mouth, but he only took hold of her hand and kissed each fingertip. All the while his gaze held hers. He could see as well as feel and hear his growing effect on her—the way her eyes dilated and her breath grew shallow, and the way she began to lose herself in what was happening between them.
“Genevieve. I could say your name all night. I want to.” She felt unbelievable fitted against him—but she wasn’t totally willing to be swept away. Although she let her eyelids drift closed, seduced by his caresses, her fingers sought and gripped at his shirt.
“Kiss me back,” he coaxed. “Let go and wrap your arms around me. Hold me like I’m holding you. Need me like I’m needing you.”
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Oak Point, Texas, and Lake Starling, not untypical of small northeast Texas towns where the tourism draw is countless lakes, miles of woods and forests, communities that know they need to grow—but not too much—and there’s enough new blood arriving to keep life interesting.
As far as I could determine, there is no Oak Point, or Lake Starling, but you’ll read about neighboring towns and businesses that do exist. Marshall stays at Oaklea Mansion and Manor House—that’s definitely a landmark in Winnsboro, Texas. You can enjoy photos of this celebrity-favorite bed-and-breakfast online at www.oakleamansion.com to help you picture this serene and inspiring area. Mistra’s is also an actual restaurant in the Hilton at Rockwall, Texas.
Now, Genevieve and Marshall weren’t easy characters to write. Both have lost their spouses. One hasn’t really recovered from that blow. The other is honestly relieved that a painful journey is over, and is ready to move on. What a challenge it is when, having found what he wants, she isn’t ready for him. But life always has a way of intervening.
I hope you’ll enjoy Genevieve and Marshall’s journey of the heart. And please look for future releases at my Web site, www.helenrmyers.com.
As always, thank you for being a reader!
With warmest regards,
Helen R. Myers
HELEN R. MYERS
is a collector of two- and four-legged strays, and lives deep in the Piney Woods of East Texas. She cites cello music and bonsai gardening as favorite relaxation pastimes, and still edits in her sleep—an accident, learned while writing her first book. A bestselling author of diverse themes and focus, she is a three-time RITA>® Award nominee, winning for Navarrone in 1993.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Prologue
“Marshall, we don’t have to do this today,” Genevieve Gale said the moment the dark-haired, gaunt-faced man exited the hospital and got into her silver Cadillac Escalade. “Under these circumstances, we can postpone for a week, more if necessary. The Carsons are proud to have you and Cynthia buying their house and they’re compassionate and understanding people. They feel terrible that you feel obligated to continue with the closing today.”
“These circumstances” were that Marshall Trent Roark’s thirty-eight-year-old wife, Cynthia, had been admitted to the hospital here in Oak Point, Texas, two days ago, shortly after their drive up from Dallas. It would possibly be her last time at any medical facility, what with her battle with lung cancer almost over. Now her condition was compromised by pneumonia. It was the worst day possible to be holding a closing on a house.
“Cyn insisted.” Adjusting his tan sports jacket that he wore over a white polo shirt and jeans, Marshall busied himself with fastening his seat belt. “And it’s not like I can do anything else. Hell, the doctors can’t do anything except try to keep her as comfortable as possible. At least I can get this done. She thinks if I’m settled in at the new house, she can stop worrying about me. Isn’t that a joke?” As he dropped his head back against the seat’s headrest, he uttered a soul-weary sigh.
To Genevieve, he looked as if he hadn’t slept a solid three hours in months, perhaps years. Chances were that he hadn’t. Fresh from a shower, his black hair glistened as his determined movements made it fall over a high, but increasingly lined forehead that had nothing to do with age and everything to do with stress. His raw-boned face was freshly shaved, but there were dark shadows under his eyes and the corners of his sensual but compressed mouth seemed permanently turned down, a further sign of how tightly under control he was keeping himself. When they’d first met back in the spring, Genevieve had thought him physically striking, but a bit reticent, even aloof; however, she’d soon learned that wasn’t his character at all. She had quickly learned that he was simply a man overwhelmed by life’s turn of events, and was trying to cope as best as he could. It might be a beautiful August day at the northwest edge of Lake Starling, one of East Texas’s prettiest private lakes, but you couldn’t tell it by looking at him. Marshall looked strapped in for his millionth ride through purgatory, instead of what should have been one of the happier and exciting days of his and Cynthia’s lives.
