My Way Back to You

Married too young, divorced too soon?

Jeff Wells hasn’t seen his ex-wife, Maggie Russell, in years. Yet as they reunite to settle their son into his college dorm, Jeff discovers the attraction between them is still present—and very strong. Yet so are the reasons they shouldn’t be together…

Still, what’s the harm in giving in to their desire for a few days? No expectations, no strings. But the affair is so passionate, soon Jeff wants more. He wants what they used to have, only better. First he needs to convince Maggie this is their second chance at love and not simply a repeat of the past.

If there was some way…

“Stop.” Jeff spoke the word aloud, opening his eyes to stifle the images forming in his head. He and Maggie had no reason to give things another try. Not even the lingering shades of love were enough to dispel the fear and doubt. And neither of them was willing to enter into another possible failure.

Too many miles and too many years separated him and Mags.

He pushed to his feet and headed back to the house. He would enjoy the time they’d been given. He would facilitate fun memories. He would be Mags’s sexual fantasies come to life…and let her be his.

And Sunday, when they parted ways, he would leave a part of his heart behind—the part that lay deep in the pit of his stomach right then. The part that ached from its burden.

Dear Reader,

I’m a sucker for “how we met” stories. I enjoy coming up with creative ways to bring the heroes and heroines together that first time. But I’m an even bigger sucker for reunion stories.

Couples who enter a relationship with a history hanging over them jerk our heartstrings. From that instant they see each other for the first time in years, we feel the pull of that old attraction, but with it comes the stomach-churning fear of repeating past mistakes. We want so badly to believe they’ve learned and have changed enough to make things work this time.

We want them to prove true love is forever.

Making a new start isn’t easy for Maggie and Jeff—their history is riddled with mistakes. The Kentucky woman and California man aren’t the kids they once were, and they’re miles apart in more ways than the distance between their homes. So when history starts repeating itself? Well, I hope you laugh, cry and cheer them on as much as I did!

Until next time,

Pamela Hearon

My Way Back to You

Pamela Hearon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PAMELA HEARON grew up in Paducah, Kentucky, a place that infuses its inhabitants with Southern values and hospitality. Here she finds inspiration for her quirky characters, her stories’ backdrops and her narrative voice. Pamela was a 2013 RITA® Award finalist and a Maggie Award finalist for her first Mills & Boon Superromance story, Out of the Depths. The Summer Place was a 2014 National Readers’ Choice Award finalist. Visit Pamela at pamelahearon.com, and on Facebook and Twitter.

To Nathan and Misty, whose love for each other is the stuff of romance legends.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to the people who willingly share ideas and nuggets of insight, which give my characters depth and realism. I appreciate how they allow me to “pick their brains” when I’m writing a story—and I do it often. With that in mind, a special thanks goes out to certain individuals: my daughter, Heather Blackston, and my friend, Rita Dodd, for their help with Chicago locations; my friends, Dishona and Wesley Wright for the inspiration behind a particularly fun plot device; and my critique partners at WriteRomance—Sandra Jones, Maggie Van Well and Angela Campbell—for their time, influence, suggestions, encouragement and belief in my writing ability.

Thanks to my editor, Karen Reid, at Mills & Boon Superromance, for her generous time and patience, which transform a good story into a great one.

Thanks to my agent, Jennifer Weltz of the Jean V. Naggar Literary Agency, for her perseverance on my behalf and her guidance along this journey.

And thanks to my husband, Dick, whose love and encouragement keep the belief of forever love strong in my mind and in my heart…and keeps these stories coming.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

NINETEEN DOLLARS...AND a divorce.

That was what the green jersey knit palazzo pants outfit ended up costing Maggie Russell in the long run, even though it had been on sale.

Of course, the purchase was frivolous. But, at the time, it represented the chance to step out of motherhood for a night and feel sexy again, an opportunity to celebrate turning twenty-one and finally reaching legal age despite the fact she was already married and the mother of a one-year-old.

More importantly, it was the perfect way to shove in Jeff’s face that he couldn’t control every single teeny tiny aspect of her life—and every penny she spent.

He couldn’t control her.

At least, that had been the plan.

Instead, they’d gotten into a hellacious argument because her purchase overdrew their account. Jeff had yelled about her irresponsibility. She’d cried about his insensitivity. He’d stormed out, and she’d taken little Russ and run home to Mama and Daddy—all the way next door.

That fight had been the one that put her and Jeff over their limit—not that they’d ever specified a number. In fact, it was actually the same argument rehashed so many times they had the lines perfected and didn’t need to go through the whole thing again. Everything had been said countless times before. And nothing said was heard. Nothing said was listened to. Not even fabulous makeup sex could assuage the deep-seated anger, frustration and hurt of not being understood. Not this time.

Two months later they filed for divorce. Six months after that, the decree was finalized—three weeks after Russ turned two.

Sometimes, during flights of fancy, usually during the summers when Russ left her in Taylor’s Grove, Kentucky, to visit his dad in California, she’d allow herself to wonder what would’ve happened if she’d never spent that nineteen dollars? What if she hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant at nineteen? What if...?

“Mom, you need to get over. You’re about to miss the exit.” Russ’s impatient tone jerked her back to the present and across two lanes of traffic. She may have taught their son to drive, but the backseat stuff was all Jeff, the control freak.

“Jeez, where were you, anyway?” A grin accompanied Russ’s eye roll, the combination perfected by the time he’d turned eleven.

“Just thinking about when you were little.” She reached out and ruffled the top of his wavy black hair, a mournful sigh escaping her lips. “Here you are, going off to college, but in my mind’s eye you’re still eight instead of eighteen.”

A brief look of panic shot from his black-as-coffee eyes. “You’re not gonna cry again, are you?”

“Only about this traffic.” She flipped on the blinker and nosed the car into the bumper-to-bumper line of vehicles inching down the ramp to Chicago’s O’Hare International.

Russ’s panicked look may have been an overreaction but not totally ungrounded. His senior year of high school had been a rough one for Maggie. As each of his activities came to an end, she bawled her way through the ordeal of Senior Nights, and when his name was called at graduation she blubbered aloud.

Her baby. Seven hours away from home. All by himself in this city of three million people. Her heart squeezed, and she felt the familiar pang she’d first noticed when she read the positive pregnancy test nineteen years ago and had reiterated itself on a daily basis ever since. Her dad’s sage words followed on its heels. The nine months before aren’t the problem, he’d say. It’s the ninety-nine years after that kill you.

No doubt about it, saying goodbye once parent orientation ended two days from now might just do her in.

The only good part about that ominous event was that it made today’s excursion to pick up her ex-husband, whom she hadn’t seen in person since Russ’s kindergarten graduation, pale in comparison.

Russ’s phone beeped, and he glanced at the text. “Dad says he’s curbside at Terminal 1.”

“Tell him traffic’s awful, and we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“You gotta be more aggressive, Mom.” Russ’s thumbs flew on the tiny keyboard as he talked. “Quit letting people in ahead of you. We could be there by now.”

Quite a way up the road, Maggie spotted the Terminal 1 sign and started easing her way over to the far right-hand lane. “Two months of driving in San Diego each summer makes you the expert in city traffic, huh?”

“Well...yeah, actually.” Russ shrugged and shot her a mischievous grin. “Or maybe I’m just more anxious to see Dad than you are.”

“I’m sure you are, but I’m still getting there as quickly and safely as I can.”

While it was true she wasn’t exactly looking forward to the reunion, she wasn’t horrified by the idea, either. Picking Jeff up from the airport on their way saved him the expense of renting a car. And since the next couple of days would require a lot of togetherness, it seemed like the easiest, most practical solution for everybody.

For sixteen years, they’d made joint custody work despite the distance and the expense.

They could survive this.

“There he is!” Russ rolled down his window, and the ensuing gust of heat caused a burst of perspiration to break out across Maggie’s forehead, cheeks and chin.

She grabbed a tissue and dabbed her face, careful not to smudge her lipstick, as she searched the throng of faces lining the curb of Terminal 1, looking for the one that would hold a vague familiarity. Eagerness marked the faces as they waited for the ride that would take them from this temporary gathering place to their next destination, making it all the more fitting she and Jeff should be together again to cross this milestone.

Surely it was that thought—not the sight of her ex standing at the curb, looking trim and fit, white teeth shining against his tanned face, and dark eyes glowing with joy at the sight of their son—that caused her stomach and her heart to clench involuntarily...along with various other parts of her body.

* * *

“DAD!”

His son’s voice, which had grown so deep over the past few years, still took Jeff Wells by surprise. Especially as he tried to connect the masculine sound with the juvenile antics of the kid hanging out the window of the black SUV, wildly waving his arms.

By the time the car rolled to a stop, Russ was out of the car and had Jeff locked in a bear hug that squeezed a laugh from his lungs. His son would never be one of those hands-off macho types, thank God.

The excitement of seeing Russ made Jeff momentarily forget the awkwardness about to descend on them. But when his eyes caught the hesitant smile of the woman standing beside them, it crashed down with full force.

“Jeff.”

“Hi, Mags.” The nickname fell from his lips as if he’d last seen her only yesterday.

He fought the urge but lost the battle as his eyes dropped for a quick scan of the woman next to him. The color and short haircut was different, and the body a bit fuller and rounder...curvier. The voice had grown a tad throatier, but the green eyes with their amber flecks remained untouched by time...as gorgeous as ever.

And those full lips. How well he remembered...

The image faded as Maggie thrust her hand forward in a gesture much too formal considering the shared intimacies that had created the fine young man standing between them. “Um...” The green eyes flashed with some kind of emotion as a deep pink flush imbued her fair complexion. “It’s good to see you, Jeff.”

“You, too.”

He ignored the extended hand and felt her stiffen as he pulled her into a hug. He’d been planning this moment for some time and had long ago decided to get past the cumbersome hellos and move into the we’ve-done-a-helluva-job phase as quickly as possible.

She didn’t give any ground. Keeping her feet firmly planted, she bent at the waist and leaned into him—a hug befitting the awkwardness of the moment. They straightened, and he saw his own wariness reflected in her eyes. But then their smiles collided, genuine and relieved they’d shared and lived through the moment.

Russ grabbed Jeff’s one piece of luggage. “I’ll get this, Dad.” He pointed toward the front seat he’d vacated. “You sit up front with Mom.”

Maggie’s eyebrow and one side of her mouth rose simultaneously. “That’ll give his backseat driving more authenticity.”

“Want me to drive?” Russ leaned to the side to flash her an impish grin as he slid the duffel into the back compartment.

“Emphatically no.” Mags hurried around to claim control of the driver’s seat before Russ could get there.

Jeff was already seated and buckled by the time his ex-wife climbed in, so he had a chance at another good look at her without gawking as she got situated. The years had been kinder than he’d expected, especially considering what she went through with Zeke two—no, make that three—years ago.

Fact was, she looked good.

Damn good.

“We’re meeting with Coach Brimley at four, Dad, at the Water Tower Campus. That’s downtown, close to your hotel. Tomorrow and the day after, we’ll be at the other campus—Loyola Lake Shore.” Russ’s chatter filled the car, as it did any space when the boy was around. “He said today’s session wouldn’t be very long. He just wants to meet the parents of the new guys before the official stuff starts tomorrow.”

Jeff checked his watch—12:52 p.m. “Plenty of time. Have you checked in yet?”

Maggie shook her head but kept her eyes glued to the windshield. “We came straight to the airport as soon as we got into town.”

“Mom’s afraid of the traffic. She puts her blinker on and thinks the lane next to her will just magically open up and invite her in.”

Mags peeled her eyes away from the road in front of them long enough to flash Russ a look in the rearview mirror. “I got us here right on time, didn’t I?”

Russ snorted in return. “We could’ve checked in and had lunch by now if you’d been driving, Dad.”

“You haven’t had lunch?” Jeff nudged the conversation away from the direction it was taking.

Maggie and Russ both shook their heads.

“I have some snacks in my bag.” Jeff pointed to the backpack he’d tossed into the backseat, and it took Russ no time to find the mother lode of trail mix, snack bars, peanut butter and crackers and mixed nuts he’d stashed.

“Cool!” Russ tore into a package and held it across the seat. “Want some, Mom?”

“No, thanks.”

Jeff couldn’t help but notice the white-knuckle grip Maggie had on the wheel. She was creeping along, obviously uncomfortable with city driving and they weren’t even out of the airport yet. At this pace, they wouldn’t get checked in until tomorrow.

“I’d be happy to drive,” he offered, and saw her jaw tighten in response.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” Her cool tone said she was already pissed, and they’d barely been together fifteen minutes.

Just like old times.

It was going to be three long days.

Three very long days.

CHAPTER TWO

IT HAD BEEN the afternoon from hell.

A wreck on the Kennedy stalled traffic for over half an hour, and Michigan Avenue had been like a parking lot, which was ironic because an actual parking lot with any available spots wasn’t to be found. Finally, Maggie opted to park at The Drake Hotel since they were staying there. Then the three of them practically jogged the few blocks to Loyola’s Water Tower campus, Russ pulling the luggage that would get him through the night, Maggie’s sandals slapping against her soles in a rhythmic fashion that mimicked the clip-clop of the horses pulling carriages along the Chicago downtown streets. The trio slid into their seats just as Coach Brimley welcomed everyone to the Windy City.

Maggie ran her fingers through her hair and found her previously fluffy do plastered to her scalp. Speed walking in the heat and humidity had wilted her humidity-control hairspray, and she was certain the makeup she’d so carefully applied that morning had vanished also. Her feet ached from the hard walk in the stylish-but-not-made-for-running leather thongs with kitten heels. To make bad matters worse, she hadn’t eaten since five that morning, and her stomach had been so tight then that she’d only managed a few bites. So throughout the meeting, her stomach gurgled often enough to cause the other parents to throw glances her way and Russ’s elbow to stay set in continual nudge mode. The lady next to her offered her some mints, which she accepted, but they just made her stomach work harder.

The only one who didn’t seem fazed by any of it was Jeff. After one particularly loud rumble that probably registered on the Richter scale, his eyes crinkled with mirth and the corners of his mouth twitched, but nothing more. She supposed Mr. California Cool was used to seismic activity.

“We’ve gone a little long here,” Coach Brimley said. “I didn’t mean to keep you into the dinner hour.” A titter of laughter moved through the group. “Any last questions?”

Maggie’s stomach chose then to emit a gargantuan rumble, which caused her face to heat to frying level.

The coach nodded her way. “Okay, then. The tour of the undergraduate campus will start at nine tomorrow. See you then.”

“Jeez, Mom.” Russ gave a relieved laugh as everyone stood and started to mill about. “Go get something to eat, will you? I don’t want my teammates thinking Kentucky’s a Third World country,” he said before turning to mingle himself.

Russ’s easy manner pulled people to him, just like his father’s had always done. Soon he was making introductions to her, and the names Maggie had heard so often of late materialized into real people.

And then, much too soon, Russ and his teammates were saying goodbye, heading to their new rooms at the residence hall on the Lake Shore Campus. Tomorrow they would officially move him in, but tonight was a chance for the members of the golf team to bond, solidifying the special friendships that would stay with them for the next four years—and for some a lifetime.

Or, at least, that was Maggie’s dream.

She looked at Jeff’s wistful expression as he watched their son walk away with his new friends, most of whom Russ had gotten to know via the internet. Was he sad their time as the major influences in Russ’s life was coming to an end? Or was he remembering that other kid who came to Kentucky from California on a golf scholarship and ended up having to forfeit it in order to work his way through the last two years of school while supporting a wife and baby?

Unlike the rare bad haircut she gave that could always be fixed one way or another, life didn’t give do-overs.

Even after Russ disappeared around the corner, Jeff continued looking. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, then he turned to her, dark eyebrows and sculpted shoulders rising and falling in a connected movement. “You ready?”

Her voice remained trapped deep in her chest, but she managed a nod.

He stayed quiet, too, until they got outside, where the suffocating early August afternoon heat had started giving way to the evening breeze. “Now, that’s more like it.” Jeff slipped his sunglasses on, looking every inch like a movie star.

Maggie, on the other hand, felt like a contestant at the end of Survivor. “Can we walk slow?” she pleaded. “I can’t take another run in these shoes.”

Jeff pointed to her feet as he slowed his step. “Women and their sexy sandals. It’s a wonder your feet last your entire lifetime with the torture you put them through.”

Had he just referred to her footwear as sexy? Some spring returned to her step. “I didn’t realize we were going to be participating in a cross-country event, or I would’ve opted for something flatter and fully attached.”

He snorted. “Being from Kentucky, you could probably get away with going barefoot.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Jeff gave her a look that said you wouldn’t dare, and she arched an eyebrow in response.

He changed the subject. “Are you going to be okay with Russ’s living up here?”

The people and traffic on Michigan Avenue had thinned some since two hours ago, but it was still difficult to imagine Russ enjoying this crowded place for very long. A weekend was one thing, but four years was entirely different.

“I don’t like it,” she admitted. “I would’ve preferred the University of Kentucky. But we both know the scholarship was the key factor. He thinks he’s going to love it, but he hasn’t experienced a winter up here yet.”

“I don’t think I could stand the cold.” Jeff pointed to a café they were passing. “Want to grab a snack? I know you’re hungry.”

His familiar grin brought a strange tightening to her chest that stalled her breath for a second. She shook her head and kept walking, waiting for the air that was slow but finally returned. “Everyone from here to Navy Pier knows I’m hungry. But I won’t be seen in a restaurant on the Magnificent Mile looking like this.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mags. You look great.”

Her stomach flip-flopped this time at the compliment...confirming the extent of her hunger. “Well, thanks, but I’ve promised myself a hot shower and a nice relaxing room service experience tonight.”

Entering the hotel lobby brought a sudden chill as the cold air met her damp clothing. She shivered in response as they hurried to grab the elevator. Oddly, in the crowded elevator that was quite warm, Jeff’s arm brushing against hers brought another shiver, deeper and more pleasant—though vastly disturbing. It was as if her body remembered things she wouldn’t allow her mind to think about.

They retrieved their luggage from the car, keeping the chatter to innocuous talk as they returned to the lobby, checked in and gave their luggage over to the bellman.

Jeff finished first but waited for her at the elevator. “I’m in seven fourteen,” he told her as they stepped in.

“Three eleven for me.”

He punched the floor buttons, and they stood alone in awkward silence for a moment as the elevator started its ascent.

It occurred to her they hadn’t made plans for tomorrow yet. “I guess we’ll need to leave about eight-fifteen tomorrow morning. Want to just meet me at the car?”