Red Clover Inn

New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers delivers an irresistible story about love, family and finding a place to call home..

Marine archaeologist Charlotte Bennett is no stranger to risk, but her dives into sunken wreckage are always meticulously planned. However, being the maid of honor in her cousin Samantha’s English wedding gives her a new perspective on her life as a nomad who’s given up on romance altogether. Though an encounter with roguish wedding guest Greg Rawlings leaves her unsettled, the other people she meets make a trip to the tranquil town of Knights Bridge, Massachusetts, enticing. Acting on impulse, Charlotte offers to house-sit at Red Clover Inn while Sam and Justin Sloan are away on their honeymoon.

The quaint inn isn’t open to the public yet and Charlotte will have quiet time to plan her next project. It might also give her a chance to see how her cousin found love and a sense of family. But the peace is immediately disrupted when Greg shows up at the inn. The Diplomatic Security Service agent lives a dangerous life, and he, too, wants to clear his head before his next assignment. Juggling work, raising his two teenage children and nursing a wounded heart has left him jaded, and the last thing he expects is to find himself falling for the willful Charlotte. As the attraction between them flares, Charlotte realizes she might be in too deep. And each of them must decide if they can put love first before it’s too late.

Praise for Carla Neggers’ New York Times bestselling Swift River Valley novels

“Masterful attention to detail, conversational dialogue and past-character catch-up expertly draw readers into her potent mix of romance, mystery and small-town drama.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Spring at Moss Hill

“Appealing protagonists, good neighbors, small-town Christmas traditions, and Neggers’ own recipes make for a fine romance.”

—Publishers Weekly on A Knights Bridge Christmas

“A heady mix of romance, mystery and genuine Quabbin history packaged in an enchanting holiday tale.”

—RT Book Reviews on A Knights Bridge Christmas

“Neggers does the near impossible: she brings a small-town, family-loving heroine and a footloose hero together in an engaging romance that has its fair share of surprises.”

—Library Journal on Echo Lake

“Her people, places and things are colorfully and expertly rendered in this compelling work of fiction.”

—RT Book Reviews on Cider Brook

“Neggers captures readers’ attention with her usual flair and brilliance and gives us a romance, a mystery and a lesson in history.”

—RT Book Reviews, Top Pick, on Secrets of the Lost Summer

Red Clover Inn

Carla Neggers

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To Niamh Amalia, daughter of my daughter

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Author’s Note

Extract

Copyright

One

The Cotswolds, England

Charlotte Bennett was no stranger to trouble but never had she encountered it in the form of a US federal agent who was exhausted, somewhat inebriated or both. “Agent Rawlings.” She paused, debating the wisdom of continuing. “Are you by any chance armed?”

“Armed with a smile.”

And smile he did, as if to prove his point. It was a casually sexy smile, his turquoise eyes crinkling at the corners. Charlotte didn’t know when and where a federal agent was supposed to carry a weapon, but certainly not while drinking beer at a party the night before her cousin’s wedding in a quiet village in England. She couldn’t see a weapon but he could easily have one under the jacket he wore over a charcoal-gray lightweight sweater. He had ultrashort-cropped dark auburn hair and looked as if he knew his way around weapons of all kinds.

“No worries, okay? I’m not in the UK on official business. You’re safe with me.”

He was amused. She could tell. She’d arrived at the party late and had chosen a small table by a window slightly open to the damp June evening. She’d had exactly two sips of her wine, a lovely, chilled white, when he sat next to her on the cushioned bench, placed his near-empty beer glass on the small table and introduced himself as Greg Rawlings. Charlotte had recognized his name as the federal agent Samantha, her cousin whose wedding was tomorrow, had mentioned was a last-minute guest.

Charlotte took her third sip of her wine. “You know, I didn’t invite you to join me.”

“You can kick me out if you want,” he said with a yawn. “I’ll go quietly.”

He didn’t look as if he did anything quietly unless it suited him. “Agent Rawlings—”

“Call me Greg. What’s your name?”

“Charlotte. Charlotte Bennett.”

“Ah. Another Bennett. Live here or in the US?”

“I’m American but I live in Scotland.” For now, she added silently.

“Well, Lottie, you need to kick back and relax.”

He was having fun. Definitely. She wanted to have fun but she wasn’t in the mood, at least not yet. Once she saw Samantha and got into the spirit of the wedding festivities, maybe. But she didn’t like weddings.