Ryan moved a step toward her
Annie sat very still.
âI meant what I said on the river today. I want to give whatâs between us a shot.â
âThereâs nothing between us,â she denied, jumping to her feet, intending to return to the house. Instead of backing away, he took a step forward, trapping her between the picnic table and his body.
âYou know thatâs not true.â He laid a hand against her cheek. âYou can feel it, the same way I do. Thereâs always been something there.â
Dear Reader,
As a reader, nothing pulls me into a story more effectively than a secret. Thatâs probably why my own books tend to be full of them. Itâs great fun to uncover the mystery along with the characters. Itâs almost as enjoyable when one character keeps something from another.
In most books with a plot involving a secret baby, the father is the one whoâs in the dark. In The Secret Sin, itâs the baby herself, whoâs grown into a lovely thirteen-year-old girl.
Lindsey Thompson has no idea sheâs on a collision course with her birth parents when she runs away to Indigo Springs to visit a family friendâor the effect sheâll have on the two former lovers who havenât spoken in fourteen years.
I hope you enjoy the third book in the RETURN TO INDIGO SPRINGS series, with the couple who will do anything to keep their birth daughter from getting hurt.
All my best,
Darlene Gardner
A NNIE S UBLINSKI gulped down the last bite of her turkey sandwich and scooped her sunglasses off the kitchen counter before grabbing the receiver on the ringing telephone.
This was the third time sheâd had to answer the phone in the last ten minutes, proving that her father was right. He did need her to take time away from her magazine-writing career to be in charge of Indigo River Rafters while he was away.
She didnât bother with a hello. âWhat is it this time, Jason?â
Sheâd instructed the teenager her father had hired for the summer to prepare the next group of white-water rafters for the one oâclock run down the Lehigh. He was a nice enough kid, but she wouldnât be surprised if he couldnât locate the paddles. So far heâd phoned asking first where to find the liability forms and then the sunscreen they sold in the shop.
The silence that carried over the line was uncharacteristic for Jason, whose weak point wasnât lack of communication.
âI was calling my uncle Frank.â The voice, young and female, was not one Annie could identify.
Annieâs fatherâs first name was Frank. If the girl had spoken with a Polish accent and called her father Wujeck Franek, sheâd conclude it was one of his nieces. But wouldnât they know he was visiting their family in Kraków?
âI must have the wrong number,â the girl continued, providing an explanation; the call was a mistake.
âNo problem.â Annie hung up and headed for the door, instantly putting the girl out of her mind.
From the porch of her fatherâs modest home, the warehouse-type building serving as company headquarters was visible, with the wide blue ribbon of river beyond it. The rafting trip she was leading wasnât scheduled to leave for another fifteen minutes, but she needed to brief her customers on the dos and donâts of spending the afternoon on the rumbling river.
The phone sounded again, the shrill noise stopping her in her tracks. It was probably the girl trying the number a second time. She debated ignoring it.
It continued to ring.
On the other hand, it could be Jason with a real crisis.
Just in case the few minutes it would take her to reach the shop mattered, she reversed course and plucked the receiver off the wall mount. âYeah?â
âOh. You again.â It was the same young voice. âI thought I got the number right this time.â
Annie twirled the stem of her polarized sunglasses in her free hand. She didnât have time for this. If she hadnât returned to her fatherâs house to empty the dehumidifier and decided to wolf down lunch, she wouldnât even be here.
âWhat number are you calling?â she asked impatiently, then listened to the girl rattle off familiar digits.
âIâm positive thatâs the number Uncle Frank gave me,â the girl said. âAre you sure this isnât the Sublinski residence?â