Her Dream Come True

“You surprise me, Hannah,” Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author Letter to Reader Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Epilogue Copyright

“You surprise me, Hannah,”

Adam said. “I thought I knew you.” His voice was as soft as the approaching nightfall. “I had you pegged as one of those women who was so focused on getting what she wanted, and getting it quickly, that she took no notice of anything or anyone around her.”

He smiled in the dim waning light, and Hannah’s heart ka-chunked in her chest.

“I’m coming to the conclusion,” he said, “that I may have been mistaken.”

Many moments passed in silence. Hannah didn’t know what was taking place between her and Adam. They didn’t touch. Didn’t speak. But she felt somehow closer to him. This man she barely knew had suddenly become important to her.

What was happening to her? What was this heated magnetism she felt when she was near Adam? When she simply thought of him?

She had no answers. None at all.

Dear Reader,

Silhouette Romance blends classic themes and the challenges of romance in today’s world into a reassuring, fulfilling novel. And this month’s offerings undeniably deliver on that promise!

In Baby, You’re Mine, part of BUNDLES OF JOY, RITA Awardwinning author Lindsay Longford tells of a pregnant, penniless widow who finds sanctuary with a sought-after bachelor who’d never thought himself the marrying kind...until now. Duty and passion collide in Sally Carleen’s The Prince’s Heir, when the prince dispatched to claim his nephew falls for the heir’s beautiful adoptive mother. When a single mom desperate to keep her daughter weds an omery rancher intent on saving his spread, she discovers that McKenna’s Bartered Bride is what she wants to be...forever Don’t miss this next delightful installment of Sandra Steffen’s BACHELOR GULCH series.

Donna Clayton delivers an emotional story about the bond of sisterhood...and how a career-driven woman learns a valuable lesson about love from the man who’s Her Dream Come True. Carla Cassidy’s MUSTANG, MONTANA, Intimate Moments series crosses into Romance with a classic boss/secretary story that starts with the proposition Wife for a Week, but ends...well, you’ll have to read it to find out! And in Pamela Ingrahm’s debut Romance novel, a millionaire CEO realizes that his temporary assistant—and her adorable toddler—have him yearning to leave his Bachelor Boss days behind.

Enjoy this month’s titles—and keep coming back to Romance, a series guaranteed to touch every woman’s heart.

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The “sister bond” is special and so very sacred it cannot

be broken by time or distance or even death.

This book is lovingly dedicated to

Melissa, Susan and Reneé Jeglinski.

DONNA CLAYTON

is proud to be a recipient of the Holt Medallion, an award honoring outstanding literary talent, for her Silhouette Romance novel Wife for a While. And seeing her work appear on the Waldenbooks series bestsellers list has given her a great deal of joy and satisfaction.

Reading is one of Donna’s favorite ways to while away a rainy afternoon. She loves to hike, too. Another hobby added to her list of fun things to do is traveling. She fell in love with Europe during her first trip abroad recently and plans to return often. Oh, and Donna still collects cookbooks, but as her writing career grows, she finds herself using them less and less.

Donna loves to hear from her readers. Please write to her in care of Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017.

Dear Reader,

I have always longed for a sister. However, the good Lord decided I would grow up in a house full of males. With four brothers running around like half-raised heathens, is there any wonder I was a tomboy? I could climb trees and throw a football with the best of them!

Her Dream Come True is a story conjured from my deep yearning for a sibling of the female persuasion. Someone who would enjoy a little “girl talk.” You know what I mean...conversations about boys and makeup and clothes. All the things girls like to whisper and wonder about. Oh, I had friends. But I can’t help but believe that the bond between sisters is special. Magical.

When Hannah came to life on the page, I found her to be a lot like me. Pretty self-assured. Relatively competent. A go-getter. But she had her share of vulnerabilities, too. Like I said, she was a lot like me. I can’t stress enough how surprised I was when I “created” Tammy and discovered she was mentally challenged. Tammy proved to have a thoroughly positive attitude, a sunny disposition, a naiveté that made her...well, almost ethereal, and most definitely a beautiful saul. Once she was in my head, I could no more have changed her than I could have forced the sun to rise in the west. Tammy was who she was...and I grew to love her—challenge and all!

I hope you love Tammy, too. And the unique bond these loving sisters share. Oh, my, and we can’t forget Adam. The extraordinary man who brings Hannah and Tammy together. I do hope you flip head-over-feet for him. I know I sure did!

Enjoy,

Prologue

“What do you mean I have to go to Little. Haven alone?”

Hannah Cavanaugh stared at her mother, who sat behind the massive teak desk seemingly too preoccupied with a dozen different tasks to give the topic at hand the attention it deserved. But Hannah was used to that.

“Well, I can’t possibly go,” Hillary Cavanaugh said, not bothering to look up from her very own handmade A List of the most prominent of New York City’s social set. “You know how busy I am. If I miss an opening night or a television interview or even a silly photo shoot, that’s grounds for terminating a publicity agent in a client’s mind. I have to be on hand to smooth out the rough spots. You know that.”

To anyone else the sigh the woman expelled would have held the perfect amount of suffering to garner the listener’s sympathy; however, Hannah didn’t miss the hollow, well-practiced quality in the expression.

“There simply isn’t a slow season in this business.”

How many times had Hannah heard that statement? How often had that excuse been used over the years to allow her mother to miss all the important events of Hannah’s life?

Stop, Hannah told herself. Mother works hard. She cares about the people she works for. She cares about you. And she’s done her best for you. Then another whispery thought nudged Hannah. She was the parent who wanted you.

After a long, deliberate pause, during which Hannah succeeded in stifling the sigh that threatened to erupt from her own throat, she said, “But, Mother, your husband has died. Don’t you think you ought to go to pay your condolences?”

“My ex-husband,” Hillary firmly reminded Hannah. “And neither of us has seen the man for twenty-five years. Besides, it’s been nearly a month since he passed away. I’m sure the funeral is long over. Unless of course those backwoods people in that little hick town hold some sort of mourning ritual that lasts for weeks.” As an aside she murmured, “Which wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

The holier-than-thou tone of her mother’s voice rubbed Hannah the wrong way. It made Hillary sound as if she were looking down her nose at others, judging them to be something less than they were.

“But, Mother,” Hannah began, “wouldn’t it be best if you were to—”

Her mother’s silent, narrowed gaze burned straight through Hannah’s opinion like a red-hot laser beam.

“I am not leaving the city. I have clients who need my attention.” Hillary’s sudden, cool smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It won’t take you long to get your father’s affairs in order. Before you know it, you’ll be back at the hospital fighting tooth and nail for that ward nurse promotion you’ve been working toward.”

One corner of Hannah’s mouth twitched. She had to hand it to her mother. Usually when the subject of Hannah’s career came up, the derision in Hillary’s voice was much more pronounced. But not today. Hannah suspected it was because her mother was asking her for a favor. Not that there was much actual asking, mind you, but with her mother, there never was.

Coming to the conclusion that the trip south was an inescapable part of her immediate future, Hannah said, “Well, I’ll have to take care of things quickly. That promotion is important to me. I can’t be away for more than a week. Two, tops.”

“It certainly shouldn’t take you that long to arrange to sell the contents of the house,” Hillary said. “Contact an auction house. There have to be estate sales even in that no-man’s-land down there. And then list the house with a real estate agent. You don’t need to stay until a buyer is found.”

Hannah grew suddenly pensive. The question on the tip of her tongue had to be asked. However, she was not eager to bring up the forbidden subject.

She’d raised the taboo issue with her mother exactly twice in her life. The first time she’d been very young, about ten, if Hannah remembered correctly, and her mother had merely brushed aside her inquiry, acting as if she’d been deaf as a doornail. The second time, Hannah and her mother had ended up having a terrible verbal row that resulted in the longest bout of silence in the history of mother-daughter relationships. Hannah wasn’t wild about the thought of repeating the experience.

She steeled herself, knowing in her heart the question simply had to be asked.

“What about Tammy?”

Hillary’s facial flinch was nearly imperceptible. And during the long pause, Hannah was sure her mother was garnering every ounce of control she possessed.

Without looking up, Hillary said, “You’ll have to find out where she is. Check the nearest state-run institution. Find out if the state is paying her keep. I fully expect that’s what you’ll discover, since your father never could hold down a job for more than a month at a time.”

Your father. Chills clawed their way up Hannah’s spine, one vertebra at a time.

Hillary rarely used the term your father to describe her ex-husband to her daughter. On the highly infrequent occasions they talked about the man, they used his full name. In fact, that’s exactly how her mother had delivered the news when Hannah had arrived. “Bobby Ray Cavanaugh has died,” she’d said.

How had the news of her father’s death made her feel? Hannah couldn’t say, as she hadn’t allowed herself to react. Instead she’d slid the reality of the information far to the back of her mind, put herself on autopilot, so to speak. It was unwise to show emotion in front of her mother. Hillary didn’t like it. And Hannah knew her mother wasn’t above using a person’s thoughts and feelings against them at a later date. So Hannah had pushed her emotions aside as she concentrated on putting out the fires the unexpected news had set ablaze, focused on what had to be done. She’d deal with her feelings later.

“Once the estate is settled,” Hillary continued, “you can set up some sort of spending account for the girl.”

The girl. The girl. Hannah tamped down the resentment that rose in her throat as acidic as raw bile. But again she didn’t react.

Her mother couldn’t help her cold indifference, Hannah silently argued in Hillary’s defense. Complete detachment had always been her way of dealing with the situation. However, Bobby Ray’s death meant that indifference and detachment were no longer going to work.

Thoughts of Tammy seeped into Hannah’s brain until they filled up every nook and cranny. And for the first time in a very long time, Hannah felt a spark of...something come to life in her. Excitement? Joy? She couldn’t say. But what Hannah did know was that she had to get out of her mother’s office before she began spouting more detailed orders where Tammy was concerned.

“I’ll go to Little Haven,” Hannah suddenly blurted, taking a backward step toward the door leading out of the room. “I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry.”

“well...”

Not waiting for Hillary to finish, Hannah turned away.

“...if you get into trouble, call me.”

Hillary’s words caused Hannah’s jaw to tense, her eyes to roll heavenward, and she was relieved that her unwitting reaction would go unobserved. Her mother’s concern always came with the precursor if you get into trouble. What Hannah heard in her mother’s words was, Don’t bother me unless it’s absolutely necessary.

However, Hannah actually felt grateful for her mother’s standoffish parental technique. It was that very same aloof child-rearing method that had forced Hannah to become the independent, self-sufficient woman she was.

“And, Hannah, I don’t want you—”

“I said I’ll take care of everything,” Hannah called over her shoulder, and knowing full well what her mother had been about to say, she let the door whisper shut between them with a firm click.

As Hannah headed down the hall toward the bank of elevators, she felt the spark of excitement flicker and grow into a full-fledged flame. Tammy. She was going to Little Haven to find out about Tammy. And if it was at all possible, Hannah planned to stop in for a nice, long visit.

Hillary would be mortified when she found out. Hannah was certain her mother had been about to order her not to see Tammy. However, she knew her recent assessment of the situation was correct—turning a blind eye was no longer the answer. Now that Tammy no longer had Bobby Ray, she would need someone.

Come hell or high water, Hannah intended to reacquaint herself with Tammy. And if possible, she was going to become the someone on whom her sister could depend.

Chapter One

Her car jostled and bumped as Hannah drove along the rutted dirt lane that led to her childhood home. Lush vegetation blocked the sunlight and cooled the dusty summer air. The jittering in the pit of her stomach wasn’t strong enough to be described as a full-fledged case of butterflies; however, anxiety tweaked at her enough to let her know it could easily get to that point.

She couldn’t put a name to the myriad emotions she was feeling. The memories she had of this wooded place, of the big, rambling house sitting at the end of the lane were fuzzy, like out-of-focus snapshots.

When she thought of Bobby Ray—her father, she silently reminded herself—shadowy images flashed before her mind’s eye. A tall, gentle figure. A wide and loving smile. A laugh that was as warm and lazy as a sunny Sunday afternoon. Well ... she thought she recalled a rich and warm laugh, but for the life of her she couldn’t seem to summon the sound of it at the moment. And she couldn’t recall what he looked like, either.

The love she had felt for him as a child had been overwhelming, absolutely heart-wrenching in intensity. However, she knew the memory of the love she’d felt for Bobby Ray ... for her father ... was twisted and knotted up in the pain and anguish she’d felt when she’d been whisked away from Little Haven, whisked away from her beloved daddy.

Stop it, Hannah! a sensible voice inside her head demanded. Just shut the door on all that. If you don’t, you’ll get swallowed up in self-pity, lost in the painful past, and you don’t have time for that. There are too many things that need to be taken care of.

“Think about the house.” She whispered the words aloud, as her wheels bounced over yet another rut in the dirt lane.

Shoving aside the confusing chaos of emotions conjured by memories of her father, she envisioned the house and smiled. Her childhood home was remembered as a huge dollhouse complete with a wraparound porch and fancy gingerbread trim. Over the years she hadn’t allowed herself to think about it often, but when she had, her heart never failed to swell with joyful warmth. Memories of being home with Daddy in the rambling house were her refuge during the lonely times of growing up without him, the times when nothing seemed to dull the ache of missing her father. The house in her head was glowing and beautiful and just waiting to envelope her in—

Just then she drove into a clearing, and the house came into view.

Hannah gasped, her eyes widening in shock as she brought the car to a halt.

Blinking several times, she just stared. The glowing, beautiful house in her memory was in reality a shabby, dilapidated building, its paint peeling, the shrubbery overgrown to the point that the first-floor, windows were obscured from view. One corner of the wraparound porch drooped noticeably. The Victorian house looked tired, just plain worn-out.

She sagged against the back of the seat. It looked as if her father hadn’t lifted a fingers over the years to keep the house in good repair. How could he allow his home to fall into such a state? Hannah sighed, knowing she’d probably never discover the answer to that question.

Tufts of tall grass snagged the heels of her shoes as she exited the car. She shut the door and was immediately greeted by the fattest cat she’d ever seen.

“Hello, there,” she crooned as it brushed its orange fur against her calf. But when she bent to pet it, the cat raced off toward the thick trees. Hannah straightened and lifted her gaze to the house.

All at once, she became aware of just how odd the scene looked. A big Victorian house sitting in the middle of the woods. One would think a better choice would have been a log cabin or a sensible A-frame. However—

Hannah paused, her head cocking at the sound of hammering coming from nearby. She frowned, wondering where it was coming from. She hadn’t seen a house for at least a mile as she drove up the main road. But then, she guessed there could be other houses hidden among the trees, just like her father’s was.

There was a pause in the hammering. Then it started again. The sound was closer than she first realized. Very close.

The tall grass made walking across the yard difficult in her high heels, but she eventually made her way around to the back. By the time she got there, however, the hammering had once again stopped. She looked around, even scanned the line of thick trees at the edge of the woods.

When her gaze swung back to the house, a movement caught her attention. She looked up toward the roof.

Sunlight glinted golden off tanned skin stretched taut across a broad expanse of muscular back—bare, male muscular back. The man’s weight rested on one knee, the other leg bent, his foot planted on the roof for balance. He dipped his hand into his carpenter’s apron, where, Hannah guessed, he reached for more nails. In a flash he leaned over, positioned the nail on the roof shingle and raised the hammer in a short arc. His arm, shoulder and back muscles bunched tight, then stretched, bunched and stretched with every swing of the hammer. His movements were precise, strong and forceful, yet at the same time graceful. Almost beautiful. And his one-knee, bent-over stance was the perfect posture to show off his taut, jean-clad gluteus. The professional in Hannah refused to think of those tight muscles as anything other than what they were: the gluteus maximus. But, Lord, she’d be lying through her teeth if she said that wasn’t the most perfect male butt she’d ever laid eyes on.

She inhaled a short, sharp gasp at the thought—however, her gaze didn’t waver from the sight of him up there on the roof. What was the matter with her?

Again he paused, this time actually setting down the hammer and reaching into his back pocket for a handkerchief. He swiped the square of white cotton across his forehead, and Hannah gawked as the sun caught the planes and curves of tendon and sinew of his powerful upper body.

It was then that she noticed his hands, imagining the hard calluses that must surely come with such physical labor, wondering how the rough surfaces of the pads of his fingertips might feel against a woman’s soft skin.

Her eyes widened at the thought, and at the same instant, the erotic idea caused saliva to pool in her mouth.

She swallowed and tried to look away. But she simply couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Could his chest be as perfectly formed as his back and rear? she wondered. The question had her taking an unwitting step meant to better her view of him. But the long grass caught at her heel, tripping her up, and she let out a tiny squeal of surprise. She was able to catch her balance, and most naturally, she swung her gaze back up to the top of the house only to find the carpenter looking down at her.

Suddenly she was overwhelmingly grateful for her misstep. If he’d have caught her ogling his body, she’d have been mortified.

“Hello,” he called down to her.

The corners of his mouth curled upward, his cheeks dimpled and his eyes lit with a friendly warmth. The sight of his handsome face, his charming smile, made Hannah’s mind go completely blank. The reasons for her trip south slipped from her thoughts as if her mind had mysteriously become riddled with a thousand sieve holes. If she were asked something as simple as her name, she doubted at the moment if she could provide the information.

Luckily, speaking wasn’t immediately necessary as the man picked up his hammer, slid it into a loop on his tool belt and then made his way over to the ladder leaning up against the side of the house. It took him several moments to descend to the ground, crucial moments Hannah used to calm the fluttering of her heart, steady her trembling hands, cool her most unseemly and inappropriate thoughts.

This was silly, she told herself. Her job as a nurse put her in the presence of naked male bodies nearly every day. Patients couldn’t be examined with their clothes on. So why should the sight of this bare upper torso wreak such havoc on her central nervous system and conjure such sensual thoughts?

She hadn’t time to ponder the answer before he was standing in front of her.

The man was more handsome close up than he had been way up there on the roof. The color of his eyes was an intriguing mix of blue-gray, his dark lashes making thick fanning frames. His brows were black slashes just below a strong, high forehead that was feathered with light worry lines that told Hannah he must be in his mid-to-late thirties. Perspiration from his hot work on the roof dampened the roots of his coal-black hair and glistened on the strong curve of his neck and his tanned chest. However, even though his skin had been tinged golden by the sun, the dusky disks of his nipples stood out in dark contrast.

Without conscious thought, Hannah’s tongue smoothed over her suddenly dry lips, and she blinked twice, forcing her gaze to rise to his face. The humorous glint in his eyes told her in no uncertain terms that he realized her blatant appreciation. She felt her face flush hot.

“Excuse me a minute,” he said, and then he moved past her. He picked up the end of the green garden hose coiled in the grass, turned on the spigot, bent over and doused his upper body with water. He ran his free hand over his chest, shoulders and the back of his neck. He rubbed at his face and combed his fingers through his hair, washing away the sweat from his body.