In Bonnie Pega’s tantalizing novel of secrets and seduction, a woman living a lie sparks the imagination of a handsome drifter—who vows to uncover her untamed heart.
Wildlife rehabilitator Robin McKenna knows how to care for those in need, but nothing could prepare her for a force of nature like Patrick Brady. After agreeing to allow the injured stranger to recover in her home as a favor to a friend, she instantly regrets it. With a wicked grin and an irresistible allure, Patrick is quick to get under her skin—and ignite emotions she hasn’t felt in years. But Robin can’t share the shadows of a shameful past . . . not even with a man who makes her long for a brighter future.
As an investigative reporter, Patrick never gives up a good story, and his instincts tell him there’s more to this fiery do-gooder than she lets on. Not that he plans on sticking around in Robin’s backwoods town for long: Patrick travels often and packs light, with no time for emotional baggage. But Robin’s secret is one mystery he’ll give anything to expose. In the end, the truth just may bring them closer—or tear them apart.
Release date:
May 13, 2014
Publisher:
Loveswept
Print pages:
256
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
“This isn’t exactly the same as an injured raccoon,” Robin McKenna said, looking over the man in the backseat of Joey’s car and noting the white bandage on his temple.
“I know, Robin, but please let him stay,” Joey Stockton requested. “He has a minor concussion, and Dr. Martin said someone needs to check on him every few hours.”
“Why can’t he stay with you?” She’d known Joey ever since she’d moved to Needle Ridge nearly five years ago and would stake her life on his honesty. However, something about the way he was refusing to meet her eyes aroused her suspicions.
“Marge has taken Betsy to visit her grandma over spring break, and I’m pulling double shifts at the veterinary clinic.”
Robin had a bad feeling about this. “Who is he, anyway?”
“Trick Brady. I mean, Patrick Brady. He’s Betsy’s godfather. You’ve heard me mention him dozens of times. He came to spend a few days at the house to work on a st—on a project.”
A voice suddenly rose from the backseat. “I’m glad the two of you are enjoying your chat, but I’ve got the very devil of a headache.”
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” Robin apologized. Imposition or not, he was still an injured man. “C’mon, we’ll get you inside.”
“I can manage.” Patrick scrambled out of the car. He stood swaying for a moment, took one step, and his knees buckled.
Robin and Joey simultaneously grabbed his arms and steadied him. “Hell’s bells!” Robin exclaimed. “Don’t you have any sense at all?”
“I guess I need some help,” Patrick muttered with the grudging manner of someone who wasn’t used to asking for assistance.
“ ‘Pride goeth before a fall,’ ” Robin said sweetly, then rolled her eyes at Joey. They stood on either side of Patrick and helped him inside the small cottage to the big brass bed that dominated one end of the oak-paneled room.
“When he reached down to untie his shoes, Robin cleared her throat. “Ahem.”
“What?” He barely glanced up.
“You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“What question?”
“About whether you have any sense or not.”
“What?”
She jabbed a finger in the direction of his bandaged temple. “I just wondered, because it seems to me you could cause yourself a great deal of pain trying to do too much. But don’t mind me. Go right ahead.”
Patrick gritted his teeth against the pounding in his head. Much as he hated to admit it, she was right. And as much as he hated to ask for help, he did, even managing a smile and a thank-you. In a few minutes, Patrick was leaning back against several feather pillows, a glass of water and two tablets of aspirin in hand.
Robin frowned as she took in the sight of him. He looked at home, even amid the pink rosebuds on the sheets. His tousled dark hair was the kind that simply begged to have fingers threaded through it. Robin found her own fingers twitching in reaction. She glanced down at her hand and consciously folded it into a fist.
When she looked back up, she looked right into his eyes. Thick lashes fringed the most gorgeous golden brown eyes she’d ever seen. Eyes as sweet and rich as maple syrup. Eyes that were currently staring at her.
“Is that your real hair color?” he asked.
She blinked and glanced at Joey, who seemed to be watching the two of them with great interest, then said, “It is.”
“Joey called you Robin. Is that because of your hair?”
“Because it’s my name.”
“I always had a soft spot for robins.” Patrick closed his eyes. “Every spring our yard would be full of them. When I saw them, I always knew summer wouldn’t be too far off. I love summer.” He opened his eyes and looked at her, his gaze lingering on her hair. “I’d love to see your hair in the summer sun. I bet it glows like fire.”
Flustered, Robin drew in a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Yes, well, um—” She turned to her friend. “So, Joey, what happened, anyway?”
Before Joey could say a word, Patrick interjected, “Why don’t you ask me?” Patrick wasn’t used to being ignored—especially by women. And he particularly didn’t want to be ignored by this woman. He’d always had a penchant for redheads, and her hair was the most luscious shade he’d ever seen—copper-red shot through with streaks of pure gold.
“Okay. So what happened?”
“I had an argument with somebody.”
“Some argument. Over what?”
“Over the distribution of the money in my wallet.”
Robin cast another quick look at Joey, who had taken a seat in the rocking chair by the bed, a grin on his face, as if he was thoroughly enjoying this. “I see,” she said carefully.
“Yessir.” Patrick fastened his hands behind his head and crossed his jean-clad legs at the ankles. “He thought I should make some donations I didn’t agree with.”
“Charitable donations?”
“That’s right. He thought I should make one to his wallet.”
A corner of Robin’s mouth twitched with a smile. “I suppose he won?”
Patrick shrugged. “He got the donation, if that’s what you mean.”
“But he had to hit you to do it.”
“Ah, not exactly,” Joey said.
Robin’s eyebrows rose, and she glanced at Joey. “What do you mean by ‘not exactly’?”
Joey’s face split into a wider grin. “Trick got so mad at the guy that he took off after him, tripped over a manhole cover, and hit his head on the curb.”
“A manhole cover? We only have two manholes in the whole town.”
“Well, one of them found me,” Patrick grumbled.
“Jumped right out in front of you, did it?” Robin’s eyes glittered with amusement.
That warm, contagious grin changed everything. Patrick nearly groaned aloud. Her sparkling hazel eyes and curving lips made him long to see what they’d look like when she’d been thoroughly kissed. By him. And there was that luscious hair of hers—hair that begged to be spread over a pillow. By him.
She was the sexiest woman he’d met in some time—maybe ever—but she wasn’t for him. He traveled often and he traveled light—only one suitcase and no emotional baggage.
And yet somehow he knew it would be good with her. He wondered how she’d feel about a brief but hot fling before he headed back to civilization. Patrick mulled over this possibility as he watched Robin and Joey talk.
She had so much energy, she never stopped moving. Even sitting in a chair at the kitchen table with her legs crossed, she bounced one foot in time to some unheard melody. Her graceful hands gesticulated wildly as she talked. Even her hair moved. He fell asleep thinking of ways he’d like to rechannel that energy of hers.
The minute Patrick’s eyes closed in sleep, she motioned Joey outside. “Look, if he’s going to be around a day or two, then I want to know more about him. All I’ve ever heard you say about Trick Brady, besides that Betsy adores him, is that he’s a city boy.”
“He lives in D.C.”
“D.C.? He is a long way from home, isn’t he? What does he do?”
“He, ah, works in D.C. too.” Joey glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. I have an afternoon surgery on one of Hooper’s prize poodles. I’ll call you later.”
“Not so fast, Joey.” Robin reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “I’ve known you ever since I moved here. Heck, you and Marge are my best friends. You’ve never lied to me yet, so don’t start now. And don’t evade my questions. What, exactly, does Patrick Brady do?”
Joey cleared his throat. “He’s a, well, a reporter.”
“A reporter?” Robin back away, horrified. “Oh, no, Joey. You know how I feel about reporters. I had to run as far as I could so they wouldn’t completely destroy my life. And now you bring one here—into my home!” Her voice rose by degrees until the dog, who’d been dozing on the porch, came over and nudged her leg for a comforting pat.
She let a shaking hand rest on the animal’s head. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because I knew you’d react like this. Robin, all reporters aren’t like the ones you ran into.” Joey said earnestly. “Trick is honest and honorable. He’s a good man and a brilliant investigative reporter.”
Investigative reporter. Robin groaned. “I have news for you,” she told Joey. “The words ‘honorable’ and ‘reporter’ are mutually incompatible. He can stay till tomorrow—then he’s out of here.”
“Fine,” Joey sighed. “Look, wake him up every two hours to make sure he’s okay. If he complains of nausea or severe pain, call Dr. Martin.”
“You owe me one for this, Joey. You really owe me.”
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
