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She’s fought hard for this life, and won’t give it up!
Gallant Lake, New York, is the perfect place for former supermodel Melanie Lowery. It’s slow-paced and far from the limelight. Her peace is disrupted, though, when hotshot sports agent Shane Brannigan comes to town with his young golf star client. Melanie sees herself in the rebellious teen struggling with fame, and she can’t help stepping in and getting to know Shane in the process. But Shane’s chasing the same jet-set world that she left behind—a world that could reawaken demons Melanie’s fought hard to conquer. Yet with Shane leaving Gallant Lake any day, her heart is putting up a fight of its own...
JO McNALLY lives in coastal North Carolina with one hundred pounds of dog and two hundred pounds of husband—her slice of the bed is very small. When she’s not writing or reading romance novels (or clinging to the edge of the bed), she can often be found on the back porch sipping wine with friends while listening to great music. If the weather is absolutely perfect, Jo might join her husband on the golf course, where she tends to feel far more competitive than her actual skill level would suggest.
She likes writing stories about strong women and the men who love them. She’s a true believer that love can conquer all if given just half a chance.
You can follow Jo pretty much anywhere on social media (and she’d love it if you did!), but you can start at her website, jomcnallyromance.com.
Also By Jo McNally
Nora’s Guy Next Door
She’s Far From Hollywood
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
The Life She Wants
Jo McNally
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-08471-0
THE LIFE SHE WANTS
© 2018 Jo McNally
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
Version: 2020-03-02
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He had no doubt that this woman might rip his life, and his heart, apart if he let her.
And still...he wanted her. He wanted her to be his.
A furrow appeared between her brows.
“Shane...” His name was a whisper on her lips.
“Say that again.”
Melanie’s eyes darkened, and the furrow faded as a smile teased her lips. Her voice was stronger this time.
“Shane. What are we doing?”
“Damned if I know, but I’m not stopping unless you tell me to.”
He waited, and she didn’t say a word. His head dropped until his lips touched hers. He waited again, until she tipped her head up to meet his. Her lips parted for him with a sigh, and still he hesitated. Was he afraid for her? Or for himself? This moment...this moment felt big. She murmured his name against his lips, her arms wrapping around his neck. And he was a goner.
Dear Reader,
This book is the third and final book in my The Lowery Women series. This book is also one of the last four Superromances to ever be released from Harlequin. There have been so many terrific Superromances through the years, written by wonderful authors (my “Super Sisters”) and edited by some of the best in the business. My emotions are all over the place between pride and sorrow to be in this final group of Supers.
I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to my two Superromance editors. Victoria Curran is the person who said “yes!” to my debut novel, She’s Far From Hollywood. I will never forget her enthusiasm and wise advice. And speaking of wise advice, my current editor, Karen Reid, got me through books two and three with wonderful guidance and vision.
As they say, when one door closes, another opens. If you enjoy the small-town setting of Gallant Lake, New York (the setting for this book as well as Nora’s Guy Next Door), I’m happy to say I’ll be writing more Gallant Lake stories for Harlequin Special Edition.
So...this is truly bittersweet. I’m thrilled to be part of Special Edition going forward, and very sad to be saying goodbye to Superromance. I hope you enjoy this story, and that you’ll want to read more about the people of Gallant Lake.
Wishing you forever love,
Jo McNally
Writing doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It takes a team, and I’ve had the best possible team for The Lowery Women series.
To Victoria and Karen with gratitude.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Dear Reader
Dedication
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
About the Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
“MELANIE, CAN I skip this necklace? It seems like overkill to me.”
“Mel, you don’t really expect me to wear these shoes, do you?”
“Melanie, this dress is way too short for a grandmother.”
“Mel...”
Melanie Lowery closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath.
If this was Paris or New York City, this type of fashion-model rebellion would never be tolerated. But Mel wasn’t in Paris. And while technically in New York state, she was nowhere near the fashion district. The three women in front of her were not professional models. They were her cousins, and they had volunteered to help her market this collection.
They were doing her a favor.
She could not scream at them.
One more deep breath.
“Amanda,” she said—as calmly as possible—to the petite blonde in the blue sheath, “it’s not a necklace, it’s an extension of the dress that happens to fasten around your neck. That jeweled bib is what makes the dress special. So please. Just. Put. It. On.”
The tall redhead standing by the door wore a flowing floral gown. Bright orange stilettos dangled from her fingers. Bree’s face said it all, but Mel stopped the inevitable flow of opinions before it began.
“Bree, I picked those shoes specifically for that dress. They match the clutch you’ll be carrying. It’s almost like I planned it that way.” She tried to keep the sarcastic edge from her voice, but failed.
“Pull in your claws, Mel. It’s not the color I’m worried about, it’s the crazy heels. I can’t walk in these things.”
“Seriously? I’ve seen you walk Hollywood red carpets in higher.”
“That was a lifetime ago. There’s not much call for stilettos on the farm.” Bree patted her protruding belly. “And don’t forget my passengers. Twins, babe. Twins. They’re wreaking havoc with my balance, not to mention my ankles.”
“Okay, Bree, I get it. Twins.”
Her business partner and best friend, Luis Alvarado, was already digging through a tangled pile of accessories in the corner of the room. These were his dresses her cousins were wearing to the charity gala tonight. Well, his with a little influence from her. Actually... Bree’s dress was nearly all Melanie. It had been her idea to go old-school with a beribboned empire waist and the flowing organza to accommodate Bree’s pregnant figure. With her dark red hair falling free and her sun-kissed skin draped in the colorful poppy print on ivory, Bree looked like an exotic goddess.
“Here we go!” Luis stood triumphantly. “Wear these nude flats, honey. Just watch the length of the dress. I don’t want you to trip over it.” Mel bit back a smile when Luis held out the delicate shoes in his meaty hand. His muscular build made him look more like a linebacker than a fashion designer. Of course, with his long, dark hair and that milk chocolate skin, he could also be the cover model on some romance novel. But the man was a genius with fabric. He was already respected in smaller circles, and soon the entire fashion world would know his name.
“Nora.” Mel turned to face her eldest cousin, who was frowning at herself in the mirror while tugging at the hem of the dark red cocktail dress. “You may be a grandmother, but you’re forty, not eighty. That length makes your legs go on forever, so please stop yanking it out of shape!”
Amanda slipped her arm around Melanie’s waist. “Mel, you’re not even dressed yet, and dinner is in half an hour. We may not be models like you, but we’ll be fine. Go get your dress on, and we’ll all meet outside the ballroom in thirty, okay?” Amanda turned serious, giving her a quick squeeze. Mel knew what was coming next. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. There’s adrenaline happening, but it’s good adrenaline so far. No temptations. A two at most.” Amanda nodded at the use of their code. “Two” meant Mel was completely under control. No one was more concerned about her ability to cope with a pseudo fashion show than she was. This might be a charity event with loved ones by her side, but it was still bringing her perilously close to a world that nearly destroyed her the first time around. Tonight was a test, and everyone in this room knew that. Luis came up behind her.
“You may be at level two, but you’re putting me at DEFCON twelve in that outfit. Go change! Dios mio, my reputation will be ruined if you wear that getup tonight.” He nodded at her black leggings and bright green Gallant Lake T-shirt. Her damp hair was covered with a white towel. Maybe Luis had a point—she was cutting it pretty close.
She patted the hand he’d rested on her shoulder. “My makeup is done. All I have to do is put my hair up, shimmy into that magical dress you designed and I’ll be good to go.”
Luis nodded toward the door. “Go get yourself magical in a hurry, girl, and I’ll go check on the real models.”
Tonight was an unconventional fashion show, happening concurrently with the awards gala that capped off four days of golf and other events at the Gallant Lake Resort. Everything benefited the Travis Foundation for Veterans, founded by Mel’s cousin Bree a year ago. Since many of the attendees were well-heeled socialites and celebrities, Bree had asked Melanie to come up with a unique fashion event that would make the women happy while not boring their husbands. She and Luis had hired ten models to stroll silently around the tables tonight wearing fashions from their new collection. Her cousins, who were all on the foundation’s board of directors, would also be wearing Alvarado designs.
“Earth to Mel? Stop daydreaming and get dressed.” Luis gave her a friendly smack on the behind. He was the only man on this planet who could get away with touching her like that.
“Okay, okay!” She reached out to straighten Bree’s hair on her way by, and got a scathing look in return that froze her hand in midair. Those pregnancy hormones were making Bree downright scary. “Right. See you all downstairs.”
The suite she was using as a dressing room tonight was at the other end of the hall. She’d had too many years of changing her clothes while people watched to ever do it again, even with family. Mel was just swiping the room key when she heard low voices coming from around the corner, where the larger suites were located. The female voice sounded young. It also sounded tense, which was what caught Mel’s attention.
“I don’t want to go to this dinner, Gary. I don’t feel like parading around in front of a bunch of old people again. Please?”
The answering voice was smooth, but with an undercurrent of anger that set off all kinds of alarms for Mel.
“Shane says you’re going, so you’re going, cupcake. If you behave yourself, maybe we’ll start practice a little late tomorrow. And I’ll take you to breakfast, okay, Tori?”
Mel’s entire body went still, including her lungs and her heart. The words were innocent enough, but the tone was off. And it was much too familiar.
Mellie, baby, why don’t you stop by my place before the photo shoot, and we’ll work on some of your poses, okay?
She swallowed hard. This wasn’t about her. It was about Tori. A girl she didn’t know, hadn’t even seen yet. She moved closer to the corner, trying to decide what to do.
“Umm...sure, Gary. But I still don’t want to... What are you doing? Let go...”
Oh, hell no. Mel quickly stepped around the corner and took in the scene. Tori was fifteen or so, with a tall, athletic build and thick blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a Hello Kitty T-shirt that was two sizes too small, as if she didn’t know she’d grown breasts, and skintight running shorts. Her arms were folded across her stomach.
Gary was probably in his fifties, with graying hair and a slim build, barely as tall as Tori. He stepped away from her the minute he saw Mel, his facial expression morphing from anger to a smarmy smile. Unfortunately for him, Mel had a PhD in smarmy men. Especially smarmy men who took advantage of teenage girls. Blood was pounding in her ears, and sweat tickled her scalp.
You need to loosen up a little or these photos won’t work. Come over here and let me give you a little back rub, kiddo. And help yourself to the champagne. No one’s watching...
She’d spent years with men like Gary, with no one watching out for her. She’d be damned if she’d let another girl be put at risk behind closed doors or hidden around corners where no one was watching.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Gary raised his hands in innocence. “Everything’s fine here, miss. You know how kids are. I’m just trying to get her to dinner on time.”
Was this just a family squabble? If so, was it any of Mel’s business if the guy was being gruff? Did all families fight like this? She really had no idea. She just knew Tori was being pushed to do something she didn’t want to do, and Melanie couldn’t ignore that.
“Are you her father?”
“No.” Tori answered quickly and quietly, moving closer to Mel, her eyes focused tightly on the carpeting. The hair on the nape of Mel’s neck stood on end. She’d developed a well-honed “weasel alert” over the years, and it was clanging loudly in her head right now. This guy was bad news.
Mel didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t exactly drag Tori away—that would be kidnapping. Or would it be a rescue mission? She could call her cousin, since Amanda and her husband owned the resort. Blake Randall would know how to handle this and would have the authority to do something.
She was reaching for her phone when a rough voice from behind her broke the charged silence.
“Is there a problem here?”
Her first thought was that she was now in a hidden hallway, trapped between two men she didn’t know. She took a steadying breath and turned coolly on her heel, as if she was totally in control of the situation. Years walking a runway had taught her that trick—she and Luis called it “body acting.” But any sense of control she had, real or faked, evaporated when she took in the stranger who’d walked up behind her. Very close behind her.
He was a big man, not only tall but broad-shouldered and rock-solid. He was older than her—probably midthirties. His red hair was just long enough to brush the collar of his white dress shirt. His nose was a little crooked, as if it had been broken, and he definitely looked like the type of guy who might get into a fistfight or two. Even with that flawed nose, he was attractive—in a slightly brutish way. The reddish stubble on his chin completed the “bad boy” look, which was softened only by his striking blue eyes, now narrowed in on Tori. His mouth hardened into a straight line.
“Seriously? You’re still not dressed? You’re killing me, kid. Get moving.”
Big Ginger gave Melanie that once-over men were so good at—a quick toe-to-head survey to see if she was worth his interest or not. Considering how she was dressed, and the fact that she still had her hair wrapped in a towel, she was surprised to see a tiny flare of heat in his eyes before he gave her a barely polite nod and turned to Gary.
“I told you to make sure she got ready.”
“I’m her golf coach, Shane, not her damned nanny.”
Tori’s voice was full of dramatic teenaged whine. “Please, Shane. I’m so tired of being nice to people.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up briefly. Melanie wondered how often women threw themselves at Shane’s feet because of that crooked smile and those eyes. Just because she’d sworn off men didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a hot hunk of man when she saw one.
“I know it’s a bore, kid, but we have to be nice to the people who pay money to support your career.” He glanced over to Mel, gave her a quick, smooth smile and extended his hand. “Shane Brannigan. And you are...?”
“Melanie. Are you related to Tori?”
“I... What? No. Tori’s on the women’s golf tour. I’m her agent. Gary Jenkins here is her coach. Is there something I can help you with?”
Ice sliced through her veins. He was an agent. Great.
Look, Mellie, you know I have your best interests at heart. Everyone needs topless shots in their portfolio, so stop fighting Marcello on this.
Mel surprised herself as much as she did Shane when she poked her finger hard into the center of his chest.
“You can ‘help’ me by explaining why you let her walk to her room alone with this guy! How old is she? Where are her parents? Where’s her chaperone? Who’s watching out for this girl?”
* * *
OF ALL THE things Shane could have imagined happening today, being physically assaulted by a lunatic with razor-sharp purple fingernails was not one of them. He wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood with that stab in the chest, and it took all his self-control to keep from checking.
Instead, he stared into her shockingly violet eyes while determining his next move.
He’d spotted her the minute he stepped off the elevator—tall and somehow elegant, even in leggings, a T-shirt and flip-flops. The white towel twisted around her head made her look even taller. From behind, she’d looked like a very sexy space alien.
But when she’d tiptoed closer to the corner, his attention had shifted. The only rooms around that corner were Tori’s suite and his suite. What the hell was she up to? She was so busy listening to Tori and Gary she hadn’t even known he was approaching. Was she a reporter digging for dirt? Or perhaps a fan crossing the line of acceptable behavior?
Before he could ask, she was gone—leaping around the corner with him hot on her heels. And now here she was, lighting into him like a pit bull about “watching out for Tori.” It was his goddamn job to watch out for Tori Sutter, and Shane was very good at his job. And he didn’t take criticism well. Especially from strangers. Not even strangers who had curves everywhere a man wanted to see curves. Smoky gray makeup surrounded her dark eyes, and glossy lipstick made her full lips inviting. Well, they would be inviting if they weren’t currently pursed in displeasure. With him. Yeah, well, tough luck, lady.
“I’m sorry, Miss...?” He waited.
“Melanie Lowery.” She spat the name at him, but he’d gotten her to speak. He was a master negotiator, and he was going to take control of this conversation. He nodded and smiled, but his smile didn’t have its usual effect. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. Her whole body was tense, and for some reason the word brittle came to mind.
“Miss Lowery, I don’t know what you think is going on, but my client is in good hands here...” She snorted at his word choice, but he plowed ahead. “Look, we’re running late and, frankly, Tori’s not your concern.” He was hoping she’d take the hint and leave, but no such luck. Indignation rolled off the woman in waves.
“Any time a girl is at risk, it’s my concern, Mr. Brannigan. It’s also the concern of hotel management and the police. Would you like me to make a call or two? I know the resort owners very well.”
Shane swallowed the angry words begging to be said. His right temple started to throb. The last thing Tori needed was more negative press. This was what he got for taking on a kid for a client—headaches. Then again, all his clients were giving him headaches these days. That seemed to be his specialty—taking on the clients no one else wanted. Time to turn the Brannigan charm up to full strength. He splayed his hands in surrender. “There’s no need for that. I can assure you no one here is at risk. Right, Gary?”