Secret Admirer: Secret Kisses / Hidden Hearts / Dream Marriage

“Want it all? Read Ann Major.”

—Nora Roberts, New York Times bestselling author

“No one provides hotter emotional fireworks than the fiery Ann Major.”

—Romantic Times

Praise for Christine Rimmer:

“Gifted storyteller Christine Rimmer weaves an emotionally intense romance with top-notch characters, easy tempo and a touch of intrigue….”

—Romantic Times

“A talented storyteller, Ms. Rimmer makes the most of multi-faceted characters, solid conflicts, smooth pacing and unbridled passion.”

—Romantic Times

Praise for Karen Rose Smith:

“…powerful characterization, balanced emotional moments, and a tense, compelling story line.

—Romantic Times

“Dynamic, skillful and refreshing, Karen Rose Smith’s writing keeps the reader turning pages and begging for more. Ms. Smith’s near flawless style, realistic characters and tension-filled plots make for a satisfying experience every time you read one of her books.”

—Cataromance.com

Signature Select’s exciting series:

The Fortunes of Texas: Reunion

get swept up in twelve new stories from your favorite family!

COWBOY AT MIDNIGHT by Ann Major

A BABY CHANGES EVERYTHING by Marie Ferrarella

IN THE ARMS OF THE LAW by Peggy Moreland

LONE STAR RANCHER by Laurie Paige

THE GOOD DOCTOR by Karen Rose Smith

THE DEBUTANTE by Elizabeth Bevarly

KEEPING HER SAFE by Myrna Mackenzie

THE LAW OF ATTRACTION by Kristi Gold

ONCE A REBEL by Sheri WhiteFeather

MILITARY MAN by Marie Ferrarella

FORTUNE’S LEGACY by Maureen Child

THE RECKONING by Christie Ridgway

Contents

Secret Kisses Ann Major

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Hidden Hearts Christine Rimmer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Dream Marriage Karen Rose Smith

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Dear Reader,

I feel very lucky to have been asked to write Secret Kisses. The idea of an anonymous love letter being published by a mischievous, elderly editor in a small-town newspaper and that letter wreaking havoc among the gossipy denizens appealed to my imagination. There are all sorts of brokenhearted people in the world, as well as meddlers, who are looking for just such a declaration of undying love from the person who “did them or theirs wrong.”

I grew up in Texas and spent a lot of summers in just such a small town. I could easily identify with my hero and heroine when they are swept into a romance because of this letter and some busybody friends and relatives.

Enjoy,

To Patience Smith

Dear Reader,

What’s a self-motivated, big-hearted and independent young woman to do when she finds herself in love with her best friend? How can she make him see that there’s more going on between them than friendship? How can she get him to realize that she’s through playing “little sister” to his overprotective “big brother”?

It’s a tough one. Especially if the best friend and substitute “big brother” in question has painful and deep-seated reasons of his own for not letting himself love his “little sister” as the woman she is.

Luckily, Annie Grant is no quitter. One way or another, she will find the true love she yearns for—whether Greg Flynn will finally open his eyes and see her as a grown woman ready for real love, or not.

And getting Greg to see her as a woman isn’t Annie’s only problem. There’s also her secret admirer, crazed video-store clerk, Dirk Jenkins.

Annie loves Greg and Greg can’t deal with it—and in the meantime, Dirk, gone seriously postal, is determined to save Annie from her own “nowhere” life—if he has to shoot someone to do it!

Buckle up, folks—and I do hope you enjoy Hidden Hearts.

Best always,

Prologue

Saturday

“It’s time for drastic measures,” Ol’ Bill muttered to himself as he drove down Main Street. He glanced toward the sun that was just peeping over one of the distant red hills that gave the village its name.

The trouble with a town the size of Red Rock, Texas, was everybody thought he was something on a stick. All those Texas-size egos buttin’ heads used to make for lots of interestin’ doings.

Used to. Lately the town had gotten downright boring.

Six in the morning was too early for most of the town’s strong-minded citizens to be up meddling. Ol’ Bill Sinclair was the exception to that rule. Seventy-two and feeling it a little more than usual, he drove with care. Despite his caution, Ol’ Bill’s “Spring Fling juices” were flowing like a riptide rushing up to a placid summer beach to wreak havoc on kids building sand castles. He felt bright and chipper and damnably mischievous on this particular May morning.

This was ’sposed to be Spring Fling season, but there wasn’t a speck of trouble brewin’. If a concerned citizen didn’t think up some devilment fast, there was the very real danger the town that prided itself on its Wild West heritage would bore itself to death.

Bill was a cowboy at heart. Not that he was spry enough to ride out and seek adventure. These days he got most of his kicks by organizing the town archives at the library and by working at the Red Rock Gazette. Sometimes after one of his features on politics or religion appeared, folks stormed the Gazette and told him he should do the town a favor and retire. Helen Geary had even gifted him with a colorful ceramic tile that read, “Silence is the best substitute for brains.”

Fans like Helen were a rare and treasured thing to any writer. It was thrilling to know that people were out there, reading him, appreciating him. He was so proud of his tile, he’d hung it above his toilet, so he could pay it a visit on a regular basis.

The big sky was turning all colors of pink when Bill stomped on the brakes and his battered blue pickup skidded to a halt at the last blinking red traffic light on Main Street. Just in the nick of time to miss an eighteen-wheeler whizzing past on the San Antone Highway.

Whew! His old heart raced a little faster.

Good thing he’d rolled to a stop when he had, or he’d have been roadkill for sure. For a second or two he wondered what tasty potluck dish Helen Geary would have brought to his wake to celebrate his permanent retirement.

Slowly, carefully, he made it through the light onto the highway. A few blocks farther down, he turned into the parking lot of his favorite breakfast nook, the Dairy Café.

He bumped across the familiar potholes of the empty parking lot with gleeful pride. Yes sirree, bobcat, just like always good Ol’ Bill was the first customer at Red Rock’s favorite dairy café. Just like always he was wearing the favorite overalls his wife kept trying to throw away. Just like always he had a briefcase full of letters to the editor to mull over while he sat in a plastic booth and swigged black coffee out of one of those tiny white foam cups he detested. Ah, what he wouldn’t give for an old-fashioned, thick ceramic cup and saucer.

If he hit pay dirt, one or two of the letters would be provocative as all get out. If he hit a dry hole, he’d have to pen his own…maybe throw in a little political advice to excite his fans. One way or the other, he intended to stir up a hornet’s nest to get folks in the proper mood for Red Rock’s annual Spring Fling.

The Spring Fling, which was always held on the town square on May 15, was usually a time of mischief and mayhem. If he didn’t act fast, this year’s Spring Fling would take place without even a hint of disaster or scandal.

Dwelling on that dismal thought again, Bill ordered his coffee and sat down. One sip of the strong black liquid set him to reminiscing. Why, only last year sweet Megan Holston had made two dates for the dance. Who would have thought she had it in her? For weeks leading up to the Fling neither date had known about the other. Then at the Spring Fling, when the two beaus discovered each other and people had started laughing, there had been one helluva shoot-out.

Beau #1 had shot off the tip of his big toe, and Beau #2 had been knocked out cold from the kickback of his gun. Meanwhile, as that pair of love-struck fools had wrestled each other through the night, sweet Megan had eloped with her one true love, Johnny Ambush, and lived happily and boringly ever after.

The year before, somebody had spiked the punch at the Fling with something so powerful the entire town had ended up skinny-dipping in Lake Mondo—even the big-haired and blue-haired old biddies, much to the joy of a tabloid reporter who’d shown up. The reporter had taken pictures of the old biddies’ boobs hanging to their navels and had made Red Rock the laughingstock of Texas.

Not that that was the first time lewd photographs had caused a stir during Spring Fling season.

Years ago, whew, now this had been a spell, brash young Matt Harper had set the town on its edge with a few amateur masterpieces. People had begun to think Matt, who’d been a mere senior in high school at the time, had finally settled down. Then he’d gone and pulled that low-down stunt.

Ol’ Bill rubbed his forehead, trying to remember. First, Matt had asked shy Jane Snow, who’d had a crush on him for years, to the Fling. Of course, she’d said yes, and the romantics in town had been pleased as punch for Jane. Then Jane had broken their date and nobody had known why until the night before the Fling when young Matt plastered the football locker room with poster-size pictures of her in a revealing wet T-shirt.

The poor, beautiful child had always been embarrassed by her voluptuous figure and had always done everything she could to hide it! She’d fled Red Rock the next day. The Snows enrolled her in a prim, all-girls’ school in San Antonio, and she’d stayed out of town for years. Matt had been expelled and had had to repeat that semester.

Yes sirree, the first weeks of May leading up to the Spring Fling should bring out the crazy in all true Red Rockians.

Something was definitely wrong this year.

Hell, maybe somebody had put something in the water.

Maybe it was too many tame city people moving to town.

Funny thing, after years of both of ’em being gone, Matt Harper and Jane Snow had both moved back to town. Rumor had it, they’d even kissed under the mistletoe last Christmas. What was going on?

The hard plastic seat cut into Bill’s skinny rump and spine as he forced himself to begin reading the letters. Much as he wanted to pan gold, the first twelve letters he read were dryer and duller than dirt. He was about to give up, when the thirteenth letter fell on the floor just as an eighteen-wheeler pulling a load of cattle rumbled by so fast the entire building shuddered.

Bill felt a premonition in his bones. He even shivered as he picked up that thirteenth letter from the floor. Was the paper rumpled from tears that had fallen when the writer had drafted it? Yes, the ink was definitely blurry.

Hell, maybe he was desperate, but the first corny sentence stirred the mischief in his old soul. As he read on, the words that followed fanned the flames of his troublemaking instincts.

My Only One,

From the moment I saw you, I fell in love with you, and my feelings grow with each passing day. I know we belong together, and I’m sorry I haven’t told you what’s in my heart.

My behavior may not have always been perfect. Please believe me, I would give anything to turn back time before the moment I hurt you. I’ve been a complete idiot. Nothing is as you imagined, and I’ve always been too proud to explain or say I was sorry. And because I didn’t, I lost you.

No matter how bad things seem between us right now, there has never been anyone in my heart except you. I may not have shown you or told you the true depths of my love. But that’s going to change—because I want to spend my life with you and only you.

So, here I am—confessing my love in the Gazette—publicly. If you give us a chance, I know we can find happily-ever-after.

I love you always.

Perfect!

Not that it couldn’t do with a little editing. Rare is the written masterpiece that can’t be improved by judicious cutting.

In this case all that was required was scissors to snip off the signature.

The nosey citizens of Red Rock would storm the Gazette to find out who wrote it. Folks would see secret admirers behind every cactus, red rock and mesquite bush, in every smile, wave or handshake.

He’d run it Monday!

He read the letter again and thought of any number of star-crossed couples the letter could apply to. Most of all he thought of shy Jane Snow and Matt Harper, who were all grown up—and still single.

Yes sirree. This’ll light a fire under the town, sure as a shootin’ match.

Chapter 1

Jane Snow’s long, slim fingers flew over her keyboard as she typed in the finishing touches to the in-depth report she was scheduled to make this afternoon on corporate branding. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she read over her statistics and beamed proudly.

Am I good? Or am I good?

Good enough to be the director of market research, a little voice in her head chirped smugly.

Better than hunky Matt Harper. Way better.

She rubbed her hands together and blew on her fingertips. Then she stabbed her red pencil through the tight knot of platinum-blond hair at her nape.

Smugness and pride were failings of hers. But she’d worked hard for those failings. Too hard. Nothing had ever come easily for her the way it had for Harper, who’d been born smart, popular and sure of himself.

“Top that, Harper, Mr. Most Handsome. Mr. Most Likely to Succeed,” she said aloud as she punched the print button. She was a little shocked by the sound of her normally soft voice ringing with vengeance throughout her silent house.

She shivered. All that anger. And repressed passion. Not to mention plain old fear…about a man who didn’t deserve the time of day. Even so, her teeth began to chatter as she thought about what was at stake and what Matt might do to best her.

The promotion to director of market research meant everything to her. Here was her chance to be respected in this town—for what she could do. She wanted to be known for more than her big breasts and the bizarre circumstances of her birth.

She felt as if her whole life depended on this promotion—which was ridiculous. Deep down she was still that needy, shy, insecure little girl. The girl who’d been laughed at as much because she’d been born on a pool table in a pool hall and ogled ever since she’d developed in the fourth grade when all the other girls had still been skinny sticks.

She had too much to live down in this town. So, much as she loved her family, after college she’d moved to Atlanta, Georgia. She hadn’t returned except for brief holiday visits until her mother had gotten sick. Then her mother and her sister, Mindy, had said things that had made her rethink her priorities.

So, here she was living in Red Rock, working for Fortune TX, Ltd. in San Antonio and competing for the same job as Matt Harper.

Matt would kill to be director of market research.

Not literally. Winning simply meant everything to him. It always had. Beating a woman at her game, beating her, especially her, whom he probably considered so far beneath him, he’d take it as his due.

Her lips trembled. He’d been nice lately, ever since Christmas. But she didn’t trust him. She of all people should know he was full of dirty tricks. There was no telling what surprise punch he might pull at the meeting this afternoon. He was good. But she was better.

His sweet attentiveness is getting to you. You’re a bundle of nerves.

You knew he worked for Fortune TX when Ryan talked you into applying for the job there, now, didn’t you?

But I didn’t know we’d end up butting heads—for the same position.

The man’s ruthless. Smooth. And good.

But handsome.

Jane hated these conversations with herself. Since elementary school, she’d never talked to herself about anything other than Matthew Harper. Because he’d been three years older and male, he’d had huge advantages over her back at Red Rock Public Elementary. For one thing he’d easily been the best-looking and the most popular kid in school. He’d been brash and fearless and recklessly full of himself, always besting the teachers and getting away with it. Just the kind of smart-mouthed boy to make an impression on a shy tongue-tied girl.

Back then his family had been richer than hers. In high school he’d been a football star and had dated the prettiest cheerleaders. Jane had been poor and shy and a bookish, straight-A student. When she was mentioned, people only seemed to talk about her birth and her breasts, so naturally she hadn’t wanted to call attention to herself.

He’d been a natural-born show-off. He still was. Then there was that incredible smile and that deep laugh that could melt her insides.

Was the arrogant, macho, Neanderthal going to be her nemesis all her life? Why couldn’t she just forget him? Why did the thought of him sneaking up on her, and taking those sexy pictures of her when she’d been fifteen and then exhibiting them in the locker room to humiliate her still torment her dreams?

That was back in high school, for Pete’s sake. He’d thought it was a joke.

A cruel joke that had crushed her.

She’d deliberately gone out of state to college. To Colorado, even though she’d hated the mountains and cold weather. He’d moved to L.A. for a while, so she’d gone East. Then her daddy had hit the gusher that made the Snows rich. There was nothing like oil money to improve one’s status—at least in Texas.

Then last year her mother had become ill, and Jane had decided to move home. Ryan Fortune, the owner of Fortune TX, Ltd., had wooed Matt back to Red Rock to work for him.

Suddenly when she least wanted it to, Matt’s image sprang full-blown in her mind, causing her to shudder. At thirty-five, he was lethally tall, dark and cliché gorgeous. He had a hard jaw and a permanent tan. He was powerful and sexy, his body hard and lean. Except for his loud ties, he knew how to dress. He had heavy black hair and compelling, green eyes. Lately those eyes seemed to stare deep inside her and make her too conscious of him. He laughed a lot, too.

She licked her lips as she remembered his beautifully sculpted mouth. His mouth was to die for.

Don’t ever, ever think about his mouth.

She’d thought about his mouth more than she should’ve—ever since he’d pulled her against his muscular body and kissed her under the mistletoe at a family gathering last Christmas. Every time she thought about those gentle kisses and how she’d instantly melted and become breathless in the sweet fire, a little lightning bolt would slither through her and make her feel as if all the air had gone out of her tummy.

Other people had thought about the kiss, too—mainly her mother, who wasn’t about to forget it. As a result, the townspeople gave Jane sly glances anytime Matt’s name was mentioned, just as they had after the discovery of those sexy pictures in the locker room.

Matt’s parents and hers, who ran in the same circles now, thought bygones should be bygones. Her mother kept telling her that the pictures were nothing more than a boyhood prank.

“He was a photographer. He had a natural interest in the opposite sex. You shouldn’t have gone braless in that T-shirt and let your sister spray you with the hose.”

Right. Blame the victim. “We were on our own property tanning our legs, Mom! It got hot.”

“Your father pulled a few pranks to get my attention in our younger days. Matt’s different now, and so are you. I think he likes you…or he would…if you’d let him.”

Jane wished her mother would mind her own business.

One might as well wish for rattlesnakes to become extinct in the Texas hill country.

When the printer stopped spitting out pages, Jane arose and did a few stretches and told herself she simply had to quit thinking about him. Willing herself to concentrate on her presentation, she opened the curtains and stared out at her backyard just in time to see a brand-new Texas sun peeping over the cedar fence. A lone mourning dove cooed as the live oak trees turned red.

Pretending not to hear the taunting coos of the dove, Dennis, her cat, ambled lazily up to the glass door and gave Jane the look. Thank goodness he didn’t have a mouse or a lizard this morning. Jane hated it when he killed things. She let him in. After a brief appreciative swish of her legs with the tip of his tail, Dennis headed straight to his bowl in the kitchen.

She gave the backyard a final wistful glance. Difficult as it was facing her past here, not for anything would she live in the city. Yes, she had to drive twenty miles from Red Rock into San Antonio on a daily basis, and yes, the traffic on the interstate seemed to get worse every day, and especially since the NAFTA treaty.

When she sat back down at her desk again, she lifted a folder concerning the fund-raiser she’d volunteered to chair that would raise money to benefit after-school day care for needy children. She checked over her to-do list and was pleased to find everything in order.

At least Harper had not volunteered for the project as she’d feared, so she didn’t have to deal with him at the booth she was setting up for the silent auction Wednesday night at the local high school’s baseball game. Although fund-raisers weren’t his thing usually, she’d thought he might volunteer just to tip the scales in his favor about the upcoming promotion. He was the last person she wanted at the event when she auctioned her cooking services.

Jane glanced at her watch. Her Honda was in the shop for routine maintenance, and her mother, who had errands in the city, had talked her out of renting a car and had promised to drive her to work today. Since her mother, who was an artist and a fortune-teller, could be forgetful, she was about to call her and remind her, when the phone suddenly rang.

“Happy birthday,” her younger sister, Mindy, chirped the instant she answered. Mindy was the wild sister, the loud sister.