“You and me are a bad idea, Hollywood.”

She’s a former beauty queen, former reality TV star and the former wife of a former Sexiest Man Alive. And now Bree Mathews has been forced into hiding on this godforsaken farm in the middle of Nowhere, North Carolina...all because some deranged stalker wants her dead. That grumpy farmer next door isn’t enough to chase her back to Malibu, even with his dark and scary PTSD episodes from his army days and his lack of respect for all things Hollywood. Always up to a challenge, she sets out to prove to Cole “Plowboy” Caldwell that you can never judge a celebrity on the lam by her cover!

She put her left hand on his shoulder and held up her right hand.

He seemed baffled, but silently took her hand and pulled her close. She couldn’t read his expression. Confusion? Anger? What the hell was he doing here anyway?

His gray eyes never left hers, even when other people patted him on the back and told him how good it was to see him. They seemed genuinely surprised and happy at his presence, but he paid them no attention. He just stared at her as they moved to the music. His body was tight with tension under her fingertips.

Looking into his eyes made her dizzy. She closed her own to regain her equilibrium, and her fingers absently traced the rough scars that scrolled under the dark tattoos on his arm. No wonder the tats had seemed three-dimensional.

When she opened her eyes, Cole was still staring as he moved her across the floor. She felt a sudden urge to sink her fingers into his thick, tobacco-colored hair. This was crazy. She tried to pull away, but he wasn’t letting go.

The song came to an end, and still he didn’t release her. She needed to free him from whatever demons were holding him there, immobile in the center of the dance floor.

“So...your ex-fiancée seems nice.”

Dear Reader,

I start my writing process the same way for every book—with the opening scene. Once I have an opening that sets the mood I want, I let the stories spin out from there. The funny thing is, the story doesn’t always end up where I expect! I love the opening scene of She’s Far From Hollywood with Hollywood diva Brianna Mathews driving through the Carolina countryside arguing with herself in the rearview mirror. When I wrote that, I expected this to be a light romance between city and country, but the characters took me so much deeper.

Writing Bree and Cole’s story sometimes made me laugh out loud, but it also brought me to tears more than once. I hope you enjoy reading about their journey as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Having this, my debut novel, published by Harlequin Superromance is a dream come true for me, and happily there’s more to come, so stay tuned! Dreams don’t happen in a vacuum, and none of this would have been possible without the loving support and understanding of family and friends.

Wishing you forever love,

Jo McNally

PS: My research into PTSD revealed an average of twenty-two veterans commit suicide every day. And while I really do believe love can conquer anything, love can’t always do it alone. Please reach out to maketheconnection.net or one of many other organizations out there ready to assist. A portion of the proceeds from this book will go to support programs for veterans.

She’s Far From Hollywood

Jo McNally

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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, www.jomcnallyromance.com.

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I’m lucky enough to know what forever love looks like. My husband of twenty years is my hero, my lover, my cheerleader, my coach and my very best friend.

To John. I love you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

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

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

BRIANNA MATHEWS HATED North Carolina.

Seriously.

She hated it.

She’d left the cosmopolitan appeal of Charlotte a couple of hours ago, and now it was just field after field of...what? Corn? Tobacco? Cotton? What did they grow in North Carolina, anyway? Cotton, right?

Some of the fields looked like golden-green grass and were undulating prettily in the wind. Was that wheat?

...amber waves of grain...

Wasn’t wheat a grain?

She cursed softly behind the wheel of her rented red Mercedes. She was completely out of her element driving through farm country, and she laughed at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

“You’re a long way from Hollywood, girlfriend.”

This seemed like such a good idea last night. But last night she was still in the civilized world. She’d been happily ensconced at her cousin Amanda’s palatial stone castle, Halcyon, in the Catskill Mountains of New York, sipping pink champagne at Amanda’s baby shower. Then she got the news that upended her tidy little world. The consensus was she needed a place to stay that was out of the public eye. Amanda’s best friend, Caroline, offered her mother’s rural farm as the perfect place to avoid both paparazzi and crazed stalkers.

“‘Go to North Carolina,’ Caroline said. ‘You’ll be safe there.’” Bree glared at her reflection as she continued her one-sided conversation. “‘Mom has a cute little cottage you can use.’ Didn’t that all sound so delightful last night at Halcyon? And look at me now. Driving down country roads in the middle of nowhere. Me! Miss California!” She shook her head. “I haven’t been here three hours and I’m already talking to myself. How am I supposed to last a month?”

According to Caroline’s scribbled directions, the small town of Russell should be coming up anytime now. Thank the good Lord for that. This was not how her life was supposed to turn out. She was not supposed to be driving past feed mills and dusty double-wides that had signs in their front yards advertising things like Steve’s Stump Grinding and Bob’s Deer Processing. She didn’t even want to know what “deer processing” was.

No. North Carolina was not her life. Her life was back in Los Angeles. She owned that freakin’ town. Clerks in the shops on Rodeo Drive knew her by name. The waiters at the finest restaurants knew which tables she preferred, and had a Sapphire martini waiting for her before her ass hit the chair seat.

Then it all went to hell. And now she was driving to East Bejesus, USA. To hide. The whole situation ticked her off royally.

Village of Russell, North Carolina

Founded 1820

Population 249

She nearly wept with relief when she saw the faded wooden sign. Russell looked like so many of the other towns she’d driven through since leaving the Charlotte airport, except it was even smaller than most. Downtown, for lack of a better word, consisted of five or six buildings, washed out and faded in the scorching-hot summer sun. It looked like the set of a movie out of the 1950s, with aged and dusty brick storefronts. The Methodist church at the edge of town was the largest building, with the exception of the towering metal silos gathered directly across the street. It was midafternoon on a Monday, and the streets were quiet. A few pickup trucks were parked along the side of the road. Four in front of the farm supply store. Two in front of the bank. And one particularly dirty one sat in front of the only restaurant in town. A sign identified the business as The Hide-Away, and there was a neon beer sign in the window. She grinned at the irony—it was just what she was looking for.

She hadn’t eaten anything since that reheated egg and biscuit concoction she bought at the airport, and she could most definitely use a drink. Caroline told her to stop in town and ask for directions to “Miss Nell’s house,” and the restaurant was as good a place as any to do that. Apparently Caroline’s mom was so well-known in town that last names weren’t necessary. Bree uncharitably wondered what it took to become famous in a place this small. She pulled the Mercedes into a spot next to the enormous black pickup truck caked with dried mud. Her car was as out of place in this dirty little town as she was.

The Hide-Away was dark and cool inside, with the blinds narrowed to block the heat of the sun. As her eyes adjusted, she saw an old-fashioned wooden bar that ran down the right side of the room, complete with a massive etched mirror on the wall behind it. The wooden bar stools had seats of well-worn dark leather. The place was straight out of a John Wayne Western. Dining booths lined the left wall, with more tables in the back of the room. A wide accordion door was pulled across an opening that seemed to lead to whatever business was next door. She didn’t see any other patrons, and she wondered for a moment if the place was closed. Then she saw the good-looking man standing behind the bar.

He gave her a warm smile, and she relaxed. Somewhere around his late thirties, he wasn’t overly tall, but he was muscular. Not Hollywood Beach muscular, where the muscles came more from steroids than actual exercise. No, this man had the lean, sinewy muscles that came from real physical labor. Dark brown hair fell across his forehead, stopping just above golden-brown eyes.

She slid onto the first bar stool she came to, settling down with a dramatic sigh. The still-smiling man wiped his hands on a thin towel and nodded toward her.

“How y’all doin’ today, ma’am?”

Ma’am?

She was only twenty-nine years old. Well...okay, she’d be thirty-one in six months, but very few people on this earth knew that. Still, nowhere near being a “ma’am” to anyone. She bit back her protest when she met his kind eyes, and reminded herself that she was in the South, after all.

“Would you like a menu, ma’am, or just something cold to drink on this hot afternoon?”

She finally remembered her manners and returned his smile. “Both, please. I’d like to see a menu. And I’d absolutely love to have a chilled white wine. Do you have a Sancerre?”

She flinched when she heard a sharp snort of derision to her right. A man sat in the shadows just a few feet away, at the short end of the bar. He was close to the wall, and there was a shot glass of amber liquid in front of him. She couldn’t see his face because of the camouflage ball cap pulled low on his forehead. His jeans were worn thin and covered with dirt and something that looked and smelled worse. She wrinkled her nose. His Western boots were crusted and cracked. He wore a sweat-stained dark green T-shirt that stretched snugly across his broad chest. Dark tribal tattoos wound their way down his left biceps, looking three-dimensional. His hands were rough, with dirt plainly visible under his short fingernails. A day’s growth of stubble covered what little she could see of his jawline. If she saw this guy in LA, she would have assumed he was homeless, or perhaps a day laborer. And he’d just snorted at her.

She pulled her shoulders back and sat up straight, but the bartender spoke before she could.

“Don’t start, Cole.” So the bum had a name. Cole sounded like “coal,” which was basically dirt. It fit.

“Come on, Ty,” Cole said with a gravelly voice that made her breath hitch for some weird reason. “A Sancerre? You really think this lady drove to Russell in her fancy red car to eat one of your famous Hide-Away burgers? Clearly she’s lost. Give her directions and send her on her way.”

The man behind the bar, Ty, leveled a glare in Cole’s direction. She still couldn’t see Cole’s face under the brim of his hat, but the two men were having some sort of unspoken conversation as they stared at each other in stony silence. Finally, Ty turned back to her, slipping his easy smile back in place.

“Ma’am, for white wine we have chardonnay and also pinot grigio, mostly because that’s what my wife likes.”

She liked the way his soft Southern accent made “wife” sound like “whahf.”

“Your wife has excellent taste. A glass of the pinot would be perfect, thanks.”

Her nemesis in the corner spoke up again. The angry rumble of his voice made her skin tense and tingle, setting her on edge. “You better tell her what vintage it is, Ty, and maybe offer to take her on a tour of the wine cellar. And don’t forget to let her sniff the cork.”

He turned his head subtly in her direction. She could see the hard outline of his chin, but she still couldn’t see his eyes.

Arrogant jackass.

Ty’s voice was no longer gentle. “I won’t say it again, Cole. Shut up or go home.” He turned back to Bree and looked chagrined. “I’m sorry, ma’am. My brother’s being more surly than usual. And he was born surly, so that’s saying something.”

Her eyes went wide. “You’re brothers? Really?” She made a point to smile at Ty. “But you seem so nice...”

Ty laughed as he poured the wine, but Cole just grunted and stared back down into his glass.

“Cole’s my baby brother. He’s not always as bad as he seems this afternoon. I’m Ty Caldwell.”

She took his extended hand and shook it. She was sure no one in this little burg had ever heard of her. “Nice to meet you, Ty. I’m Brianna. You can call me Bree.”

Her stomach rumbled, making her laugh. “You know, a burger sounds absolutely divine right now. Could I have one, medium rare?”

She glanced in Cole’s direction. She shouldn’t engage with him, but she just couldn’t resist. Tossing her hair over her shoulder like she used to do for the cameras, she raised a brow coquettishly. “That is, if my order meets with your approval?”

He turned slowly and, for the first time, raised his head to look straight into her eyes. The effect was momentarily paralyzing. His eyes were blue-gray. And they were hard. Flint hard. His features were sharp and handsome, but they seemed to be chiseled into ice. Every muscle line was tight and tense, like a cat waiting to pounce. The corner of his mouth twitched into a semblance of a smile that never reached his eyes.

“Ma’am, I don’t give a flying fu—”

“Jay-sus, Cole!” Ty seemed stunned by his brother’s actions. But Bree was grateful to have a target for all the anger she’d been nursing for the past twenty-four hours.

“Well, forgive my confusion,” she said with saccharine sweetness, “but just a minute ago you were so terribly concerned about what I ordered. And if you think for one minute that tossing profanities around will make me faint dead away, think again. I can out-curse the best of them. I doubt you qualify as the best in any category.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously, but he didn’t speak. Her anger gave her a rush of adrenaline, and her lips parted as she took a deep, steadying breath. His gaze flickered down to her mouth, and his chin turned to granite.

Ty looked back and forth between Bree and Cole in stunned silence as the atmosphere crackled with tension. Then he started to laugh.

“Brother of mine, I do believe you’ve just met your match. Miss Bree, I’ll be happy to go make that burger as long as you two promise not to kill each other out here.”

Cole’s eyes met hers, and she didn’t flinch from his hard glare. She nodded. “I promise. Thank you.”

Cole just turned back toward his drink with a grunt. That seemed to be his favorite form of conversation. Ty looked between the two of them one last time then nodded, apparently satisfied no crimes would be committed in his absence. He turned and walked through the swinging door that led to the kitchen.

Bree picked up her wineglass and silently cursed her trembling hand. It was just adrenaline and exhaustion, but it made her look weak. She raised the glass for a sip and slowly set it down again. The base rattled against the gleaming wood. Cole snorted again, and she lost it.

“Look...” She spun and pointed her finger at his rock-solid chest. She saw a flash of surprise in his eyes, but he hid it quickly and returned to his usual glower. “I’ve had a miserable few days. I’m tired, I’m hungry and I’m angry.” She left out “terrified,” because she thought he’d enjoy it too much. “I’m in the middle of nowhere. On purpose. But I at least expected a little freakin’ Southern charm. Is that too much to ask?”

This time his grin almost reached his eyes. He seemed amused by her outburst.

“Yeah, well, I ran out of charm a while ago,” he said, lifting one eyebrow. “Maybe around the same time you did.”

She sat back and her mouth dropped open. Then she smiled thinly and lifted her glass in his direction in a mock toast. “Touché.”

He nodded and turned back to his drink, swirling the liquid absently. She caught a movement near his feet and saw a dark-haired dog lying close by his bar stool.

“Are dogs allowed in restaurants in North Carolina?” She tried not to sound snobbish about it, but really, was it sanitary?

“This one is, in this restaurant.”

“He’s yours?”

“She is.”

The dog was beautiful, with a sleek coat. Her ears stood up and she stared at Bree intently.

“What’s her name?”

“Maggie.”

“What breed is she?”

“Belgian shepherd.”

“Is she friendly?”

“Most times.”

The guy wasn’t exactly a conversationalist.

“May I pet her?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

He finally raised his eyes to hers. “Because she’s not a damned pet, that’s why. She’s a working dog, and she’s working. Leave her alone.”

A working dog? Did she sniff out seizures? Was Cole disabled in some way that he needed a dog for balance or fetching things? She couldn’t see any crutches or canes nearby. He turned back to his drink with another grunt.

Unintentionally, she spoke her thoughts out loud. “Well, if she’s supposed to be making you human, you’d better return her, because it’s not working.”

He started to turn toward her again, and Bree drew back. She may have poked this bear one time too many. But the kitchen door started to open, and Cole stilled and went back to the intense study of his drink.

Ty walked through the doorway and checked the atmosphere in the room before he turned to Bree.

“Your burger will be ready in a few minutes, ma’am. So where are you headed?”

She stammered then steadied her voice. “Um... I’m actually headed right here, to Russell. I’m...vacationing for a few weeks. I wanted some peace and quiet, you know? I was told to stop in town and ask for directions to Miss Nell’s farm.”

“Miss Nell? You’re renting Nell’s cottage? For vacation? In Russell?” Ty shook his head and chuckled. “Well, that’ll be quiet, for sure. Where you from?”

“Southern California.”

Cole let out another snort. She sent him a dark look.

“What?” she snapped.

He just shrugged and avoided Ty’s warning glare. Ty turned back to Bree.

“Would you like another glass of wine?”

She stared at her empty glass.

“Gee, Ty, I wouldn’t want to offend your brother’s sensibilities by ordering more wine. Maybe I should try what he’s having.”

Cole let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You’d hurt yourself, honey.”

Oh, no, he didn’t. “Let’s make one thing clear. I am not your honey.” She impulsively reached for Cole’s glass. His hand shot out so quickly she didn’t see it move until he grabbed her wrist. His fingers were as hard as his eyes, and she gasped at the feel of his calloused skin on hers.

Ty’s voice dropped to a growl. “Cole, I’ll throw you out the door myself if you don’t let her go. What the hell is wrong with you today?”

Cole pierced her with his eyes, and he didn’t let go. His voice was low and threatening.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish...honey.”

They glared at each other, then he released her hand and pushed it away, causing some of the golden liquor to slosh over the rim of the glass onto her fingers. She kept her eyes locked on his as she lifted his glass to her lips and emptied it. His eyebrows rose just enough that she knew he was surprised, even if his expression remained carved in stone. Both men probably expected her to have a coughing fit or some other girlish reaction, but they were going to be disappointed. She welcomed the burn as the strong drink warmed its way to her stomach. After setting the glass on the counter, she slowly licked the spilled whiskey from the tips of her fingers. Cole’s nostrils flared just a bit at that move.

“Not bad.” She shrugged, and Ty laughed.

“Day-um, woman. You may look city, but you sure act and drink country!”

She grinned and looked down at what she considered to be casual traveling clothes. She was wearing a pale green broomstick skirt with ballet flats and a simple ivory knit top. Her dark red hair was long and straight, enhanced with several hundred dollars’ worth of extensions. In Russell, North Carolina, she probably looked like a cover girl.

She was just starting to respond when the door from the kitchen opened again. A teenage girl walked through it, carrying a plate holding a delicious-looking burger. Bree guessed she was around fifteen; pretty in a wholesome, cheerleader sort of way. She had long blond hair and lightly tanned skin, with big brown eyes. Those eyes snapped to a halt when she saw Bree.

A lot of things happened very quickly in the next few seconds. The girl nearly dropped the plate, but Ty caught it just as the burger was ready to slide to the floor.

“Emily! Watch what you’re...”

Emily was reaching for something in her back pocket as her eyes grew even wider.

“Oh. My. God. You’re Bree Mathews! Right here in The Hide-Away! Oh, my God! No one’s going to believe this!”

Bree saw the iPhone in Emily’s hand. The girl was raising it to take a photo. An image of Bree blasted out to the internet would ruin her plans to hide here in Russell. She jumped to her feet and reached for the phone with a distressed cry. Cole stood and grabbed Bree’s wrist, yanking her back and closer to him. Ty snatched the phone from Emily’s hand. They all stared at each other in confusion, panic and anger.

Ty was the first to speak. “Emily! What is wrong with you? Is it a full moon today or what? Everyone’s going full-bore crazy around here! And Cole, for the last time, get your effing hands off that woman!”

Bree was close to his side now, and the heat emanating from his body took her breath away. His grip was rough, just short of painful. He glared down at her then back at his brother.

“She grabbed for my niece and I damned sure want to know why.”

Ty nodded in understanding. “I get that. But everyone’s safe now, so let her go.”

Cole looked down at Bree, and her face flamed with humiliation. This day was turning into one hot, glorious mess. He slowly loosened his hold on her, and she took a step away, rubbing her wrist.

“Emily.” Ty looked at the girl who was clearly his daughter. “What on earth is wrong with you, girl?”

Emily’s eyes were still bright with excitement, and her voice was breathless and quick.

“Daddy! This is Bree Mathews! She’s famous! She’s from Hollywood! And she’s standing here in our restaurant!” The men clearly had no idea what she was talking about, and the words started tumbling out of her mouth. “Oh, my God! Don’t you know? She was Miss California and a runner-up to Miss America. Then she married Damian Maxwell, the actor from that big hit TV show about high school from a few years ago, Drama in the Halls. Remember? He played the hunky coach? And then...” The words were coming fast and furious as Emily recited the timeline of Bree’s life. “Then his show was canceled and he and Bree went on the reality show Hot Hollywood Housewives. She was supposed to be the ‘good girl’ of the group, and the other ladies were so mean to her. By the third season, Damian was doing drugs on camera. When she caught him with Jessica Darling, one of the other wives on the show, Bree had an epic meltdown.”

“Emily,” her father said, trying to intervene. But his daughter was on a roll.

“She flipped an entire table on its side in a restaurant. It was awesome! Anyway, even though she divorced Damian, they tried to keep her on the show for another season, but she refused. Now she plans events and stuff for famous people, and she wrote a cookbook, and I heard she might get her own show on Bravo. Some people hate her because they say she ruined Damian’s career. He hasn’t had a hit since she left him, but of course that’s not her fault. Daddy, she’s famous. And she’s standing right in front of us!”

Emily finally stopped for air. Bree dropped her head, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Three decades on this earth, and her entire life had just been recapped in breathless detail by a teenager in less than a minute. And the highlight was that she flipped a table over in a crowded restaurant. That was what people thought of when they saw her. What did that say about her choices? About her values? About her?

“Are you filming something here? Is that why you’re here?” Emily was bouncing up and down now. “You are, right? You’re filming? Why else would you be in a place like Russell? Oh, wow...”

This was her chance to protect herself, and Bree took it. She plastered on her best pageant smile.

“Yes. Yes, we’re filming here. But it’s a huge secret. That’s why I didn’t want you to take the picture. No one can know about it, or it will all be ruined. I’m just here checking things out, but if the press finds out, we’ll have to find a new location to go to. I didn’t think anyone would recognize me out here...”

Cole snorted. Again. “So you didn’t think we had television? Or the internet? Or teenagers?”

Damn his arrogance.

“Look, it was all very last minute, and I didn’t know the show was popular in rural...in the country...places like this...” She closed her eyes, trying to think of a way not to sound offensive. But she never thought anyone would recognize her here in the boondocks.

Emily was still focused on the idea of a film crew arriving. “You’re doing a ‘Bree in the country’ kind of thing? That would be so funny! Maybe we’ll have a dance here at The Hide-Away and you could film it! Daddy, you’d let me waitress, right? I could be on TV!”

Ty looked at Bree in confusion, and she figured she’d better settle his daughter down a bit.

“I’m sure we can figure out a way for a pretty girl like you to be part of the show.” The girl beamed at the compliment. “But it’s critical that no one, not even your very best friend, knows that I’m here right now. Seriously, I’ll have to leave and never return if word gets out. You know how it is once news starts spreading on social media. The press will be here in a heartbeat, and I can’t have that...”

“I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. I won’t tell anyone if you’ll promise that my friends and I can be part of the show. I didn’t get the photo of you before. Y’all moved too fast.”

Ty swiped his finger across the screen on Emily’s phone, which he still held. He nodded.

“She’s right. No picture. And she won’t ever be taking pictures of anyone without asking permission first, right?” He gave his daughter a stern look and handed her phone back to her.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I promise. I just lost my head...”

Bree smiled. “It’s all right, Emily. Just remember to keep my secret, okay?”

Emily nodded, hugged herself and danced back into the kitchen.

Bree grabbed the hamburger in front of her. A girl had to eat, right? She took a large bite of it and sighed. This burger alone might make up for the lousy day she was having.

She wasn’t at all surprised to hear another grunt from Cole.

“You proud of yourself, Hollywood? Lying to a nice kid like that?”

She was too ashamed to have any fight left in her. She wiped her mouth with a napkin before answering, and her voice was barely a whisper.

“No. No, I’m not proud at all.”

Ty’s voice was low. “Then why did you do it?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, blowing the air out slowly through her lips. She didn’t care about Cole’s opinion, but Ty deserved the truth. She raised her head and met his puzzled gaze.

“I thought it would be kinder than telling your daughter that someone out there wants to burn me alive. Because that’s what the truth is. I have a stalker, and the whole situation has taken a bad turn. I’m trying to lay low for a while until they can find him. Nell’s daughter, Caroline, is my cousin’s friend, and she suggested I come here.”

Her gaze dropped back to the bar, and the room fell silent. Ty turned and took a bottle from a shelf. He poured the golden liquid into a shot glass and slid it into her hand. She downed it with one swallow, welcoming another burn. She looked up and nodded, and he refilled the glass. But this time she took just a sip before taking another bite of her burger.

“Someone’s threatening to kill you?” Ty asked.

She shrugged. “Or worse. He says he needs to ‘cleanse me by fire’ to remove my sins and make me worthy. He broke into my beach house Saturday while I was gone and burned all of my clothes, because he thinks I dress like a whore.” She took another sip from the glass. “And he sent a threatening message to my cousin’s home in New York while I was there, even though I hadn’t publicized the trip. So now I’m on the run.”

She tried to give Ty a smile, but felt her mouth trembling, and bit down on her lower lip to steady it. Cole, who’d been still and quiet at her side, inhaled sharply. She looked over, but he turned away, staring at Ty. Once again, the brothers carried on a silent conversation. Cole shook his head abruptly, but Ty just glowered at him. Cole’s shoulders slumped and he nodded as he took a step closer to Bree. He lifted his chin toward the shelves behind the bar.

“Give me a hat” was all he said.

Ty handed him one of several Hide-Away ball caps for sale above the cash register. Cole moved behind her and put his hands on either side of her face, making her gasp. He pulled her hair back and through the opening of the cap, creating a ponytail as he pushed the hat low on her head. Before she could protest, Ty started to explain.

“If Emily recognized you, someone else might. Cole will take you out to Nell’s place in his truck. He lives out that way. That fancy car is no way to lay low in this part of the country. My guess is half the town already knows there’s a ninety-thousand-dollar Mercedes parked at The Hide-Away. Leave me the keys and I’ll pull the car around back, then take it home after dark and put it in my barn. I’ll see if my wife, Tammy, can take you shopping for something a little more...casual. We’ll tell people you’re a college friend of Caroline’s. Everyone loves Caroline Patterson...er...McCormack. She’s married now, right? She married that guy from Boston?”

Bree nodded, feeling stunned. “Yeah, they got married in Barbados. Look, why are you doing this? You don’t know me, and you don’t even like me.” She looked over her shoulder at Cole. His close proximity was making her nervous.

Cole arched an eyebrow at her. “Call it that ‘Southern charm’ you were looking for. We help people in trouble down here.” His mouth twitched again. She decided that was the closest thing to a real smile the guy had. “Even people we don’t like.”

CHAPTER TWO

COLE CALDWELL STOLE a sideways glance at the redhead as he drove out of Russell. She was pressed up against the passenger door, with Maggie curled up on the seat between them. While the dog generally rode with her nose pressed snugly against Cole’s leg, today she lay facing their guest. Her head rested on Bree’s thigh, and Bree was absently scratching Maggie’s ear.

Traitor.

Despite the ridiculous layers of makeup, Brianna Mathews could easily be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Pulling her hair up under the cap revealed her long, slender neck, fine-boned face and those deep green eyes. Her skin was like porcelain. She was tall, almost as tall as he was. And she moved with a natural grace that said she was confident and very aware of herself. The whole package was sexy as hell.

Too bad she was such a flaming, toxic viper.

The lady could peel paint off the wall with those angry eyes of hers. And her sharp tongue could probably flay a man alive. Cole shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable and surprisingly aroused by that thought. He sure as hell didn’t want anything to do with this woman or any other woman for that matter. And it seemed the feeling was mutual. He grunted to himself, earning him another one of her icy glares.

“What?” she snapped.

He shook his head in the closest he’d come to amusement in a long time. Baiting her temper was as easy as shooting very big fish in a very small barrel.

“Oh, nothin’. I’m just picturing you settling into Nell’s hundred-year-old bungalow. All by yourself. No Starbucks. No fancy parties to attend. No television cameras. Girl, you’ll die of loneliness out here.”

She turned to stare out the passenger window. Her voice was quiet.

“It’s better than dying in a pool of blood.”

Well, hell. She’d just managed to turn him into a complete jackass, hadn’t she? No, actually he didn’t need her help with that. He’d done it all on his own. After a year of feeling pretty much nothing but anger, he now felt guilty. He winced at the sharpness of it.

“Sorry.” There’s a word he hadn’t said in a while. “I wasn’t making light of your...”

“Situation? My very interesting situation?” She dropped her head back against the seat of his pickup then turned to look at him. “We don’t exactly bring out the best in each other, do we?”

He snorted. “Apparently not.”

Awkward silence filled the cab as he made a few more turns. The roads got progressively smaller and the fields got bigger. He slowed the truck as they approached a yellow farmhouse with a wide front porch. There was a wooden farmstand next to the road with a simple sign that read Nell’s Produce. He glanced over at the stand as he pulled into the gravel driveway. It looked like Nell had a good selection of tomatoes and blueberries today. He snuck another look at Bree and bit back a smile at her wide-eyed expression.

A faded red barn stood behind the house. Chicken and geese wandered the yard. The pigpen was off to the left, and he could see Nell’s big sow, Spot, sunning herself there with her piglets. Two old workhorses were standing in a small paddock to the right, head to rump, swishing their tails rhythmically to keep the flies away. In the fields behind the barn, his own beef cattle were grazing. He leased the pastures from Nell, and she kept an eye on the cows and calves for him. Nell’s huge garden stretched along the far side of the house. She grew enough vegetables to keep her stand well stocked. What she didn’t grow herself, she sold on consignment for area farmers. People drove for miles to buy from Miss Nell, because they knew she sold the best locally-grown produce. She served up her unique country wisdom, homemade sweet tea and amazing baked goods to her customers, most of whom she knew by name.

A rangy hound of indiscriminate origin trotted toward the truck, baying loudly, but his tail wagged in greeting. Cole stepped out and scratched the dog’s ears. Maggie sat up in the truck and watched alertly, staying silent.

“Hey, Shep, how are you, old boy?” He looked back at Bree, who seemed to be in some stage of shock in his truck. “Are you going to sit there all day?”

She looked down at the dog and hesitated.

“Don’t worry about Shep. He’s more welcoming committee than watchdog.”

Bree slid across the seat past Maggie and stepped down out of his side of the truck. The woman was acting as if she’d been dropped in the middle of a dangerous jungle instead of a quiet North Carolina farm. Her ironclad confidence slipped just a little, and her face paled. She was clearly out of her comfort zone here. He should have enjoyed it, but instead he was troubled to see her lose that cloak of brittle anger.

“Well, as I live and breathe!” a woman’s voice cried out from the front porch. “Colton Caldwell! What’s up, darlin’? You get thirsty for some of my sweet tea on this blistering day? I didn’t figure to see you till the end of the week. That miserable old cow of yours won’t be ready to drop her calf for a while yet.”

Nell Patterson’s face was weather-worn, and her hair was more gray than brown, but her slender body moved with the sure strength of someone who worked hard for a living and didn’t give a darn what anyone thought of her. She was wearing cotton shorts and a white blouse, with a bright yellow apron tied around her waist. It struck him as the tall, sturdy woman stepped off the porch that the way Nell carried herself was very similar to Bree’s. Two strong, but very different, women. They’d either kill each other or be friends forever. Nell spotted Bree at his side, and her brown eyes went wide with surprise.

“And you brought company! And isn’t she a pretty thing? Introduce me to your girl, Colton.”

He gave her a crooked smile and shook his head. “She ain’t my girl, Nell. She’s yours. This is your new tenant, Bree Mathews.”

He watched with grudging respect as Bree stifled whatever terror she was feeling about the farm. She painted on a bright smile and stepped forward to extend her hand to Nell. “It’s so nice to see you again, Mrs. Patterson. We didn’t have much opportunity to talk at Caroline’s wedding, but she’s told me wonderful things about you. I appreciate you letting me use your cottage under the circumstances...” Her formal words and tone were swallowed in a bear hug from Nell.

“Oh, I remember you! You planned their wedding reception, didn’t you? Caroline called me this morning and told me why you’re here. Don’t you worry, honey. We’ll keep you safe.” Nell held Bree out at arm’s length and looked sharply between her and Cole. He could see her wheels turning, and he didn’t like it one bit. What kind of scheme was she putting together in that very clever brain of hers? “But of course, this is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Bree looked confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, didn’t Caroline tell you? I need someone to help me with the farm. It gets so busy in the summer, and I just can’t handle it all on my own.” Cole frowned. Nell was the most capable farm woman he’d ever known, and she abhorred offers of assistance.

Bree started to protest. “Oh, Mrs. Patterson, I’d love to help, but I’m afraid I know nothing about farming. I’m a city girl through and through. I know how to cook vegetables, but I know nothing about growing them. As far as I’m concerned, they magically appear at Whole Foods Market. And animals...well, animals and I don’t get along all that well...”

“First, call me Nell or Miss Nell. And second, don’t be silly. You can learn to grow and pick veggies, and you’ll get along just fine with all the animals. Why look, Shep likes you already.” They all looked down to where Shep was lying close by Bree’s feet. Damned if the dog wasn’t looking up at Bree like she was an angel or something. Maggie sat in his truck with the same adoring expression. What the...?

Nell continued. “The cottage is just one hay field away, so you go get yourself settled, and we’ll talk more tomorrow about what you can do to help around here.”

Cole coughed back a snort, and Bree spun to slice him with her angry eyes. He raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m sorry! I can’t help being amused at the thought of you sloppin’ hogs and picking tomatoes and feeding those one-ton horses over there.” He nodded toward Pete and Ruby, Nell’s elderly and famously gentle horses. Bree’s back stiffened, and he knew he’d struck home with his not-so-subtle suggestion that she couldn’t possibly be a farmer. But just look at her, for heaven’s sake.

“Are you saying you don’t think I can do it?”

“Isn’t that what you just said?”

She put her hands on her hips. “I said I didn’t know anything about farming. I didn’t say I couldn’t do it if I wanted to.” She turned to Nell, and he couldn’t miss the stubborn set of her chin. The woman didn’t seem capable of turning down a challenge. “Nell, I look forward to learning more about your farm.”

Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Cole, honey.” Nell dropped something in his hand. “Be a dear and drive Bree over to the cottage, will you? Here’s the key. You know your way around the place and can show her where everything is.” Before he could object, Nell turned back to Bree. “I stocked the fridge with plenty of food, and there’s a dish of my beef stew there for you to heat up for dinner tonight. There are clean linens on the bed. You must be exhausted. And don’t worry about not having a car, honey. I’m sure Cole will give you a ride anywhere you need to go.”

Bree started to say something, then closed her mouth. She’d just been bulldozed by Miss Nell, and Cole knew exactly how she felt.

* * *

BREE WAS USED to waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. She’d traveled nonstop as Miss California, and again as the wife of Damian Maxwell. When she joined the cast of Hot Hollywood Housewives, they were constantly being shuttled off to exotic locations to spice up the show. There were trips to Paris, Hawaii and even the Australian outback on a ridiculous survival challenge. She’d probably slept away from her beloved Malibu home as much as she’d slept in it.

But she still wasn’t prepared when the predawn light filtered through the thin cotton curtains and nudged her from a restless night’s sleep in Nell’s cottage. She sat up and blinked in confusion. Even the outback accommodations were fancier than this place. The bedroom barely managed to contain the queen-size iron bed and a dresser.

She stood and stretched slowly, sighing at the feel of her satin nightgown sliding against her skin. The luxurious fabric was a welcome reminder of her real life, which should be taking place right now far, far away from this country cottage. She’d packed the fancy sleepwear for her trip to her cousin’s baby shower over the past weekend. It was entirely appropriate to wear as a guest at Amanda and Blake’s historic home, or even at the lakeside resort they owned next door to Halcyon.

Here in this rustic whitewashed cottage? Not so much.

But she didn’t have a lot of wardrobe choices, since whatever she’d packed in her weekend bag was pretty much all she had left for clothing. She ran her hands down the expensive material and shook her head. It was ironic that the one thing she’d fought for throughout her adult life—indeed, the driving force behind nearly every decision she’d made—was her desire for security and stability. And now that she’d finally achieved it, some psycho had snatched it all away by torching her clothes and forcing her out of her home.

She jumped when her phone chirped in her purse, indicating an incoming text. The alarm clock on the bedside table showed it wasn’t even 5:30 yet. She grabbed her Hermes bag and dug around inside for the phone. Her personal phone had been left behind in Gallant Lake to prevent anyone from tracing her location. This was just a throw-away burner phone and only a handful of people had the number. She couldn’t imagine which member of that small club would be awake at this hour.

R U awake?

The text was from her cousin, Amanda. Bree grinned and was quick to type a response.

Barely. Why are YOU awake?

Instead of a responding text, the phone rang in her hand.

“Bree! How are you, sweetie?”

“Amanda, what on earth are you doing up at this hour? Did your ghost rattle some chains in the hallway or something?”

Amanda, normally such a level-headed woman, insisted the castle she’d remodeled for hotelier Blake Randall before marrying him was haunted by its original owner.

“Very funny. It’s not the original Madeleine that’s the problem. It’s her namesake. This baby kicks me awake earlier and earlier every morning. If she’s not born soon, I won’t be sleeping at all.”

Amanda not only believed that a ghost named Madeleine haunted Halcyon, she’d also insisted on naming her unborn daughter after her. A feisty five-foot-four, her cousin had been miserably uncomfortable at her baby shower, with the baby occupying a beach ball-size bump directly under her breasts.

“Yeah, well, little Maddy isn’t due for another month, so you’d better start grabbing naps during the day to get your rest.” She left the bedroom in hopes of finding some coffee, and almost swooned at the sight of a small coffeemaker sitting on the counter. She popped in a pod of Sumatra Dark and inhaled the rich aroma as her mug filled.

“Now you sound like Blake. He’d make me stay in bed twenty-four hours a day if he could.”

“That sounds like your husband, for sure. Is he home yet?”

“He won’t be back until next week. He wants to visit all of the resorts one last time before Maddy arrives. So tell me, how are you really doing? Did you get settled in without any problems?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call it problem-free, but yeah, I’m here in my temporary prison.” She sat on the blue plaid sofa and told Amanda about her arrival in Russell yesterday and the drama at The Hide-Away, as well as her introduction to Nell and the rustic cottage she was now calling home. She made her disdain for the rural setting very clear.

“Nell has horses and cows and...and pigs.” Bree jumped to her feet in agitation and walked to the front windows. Soft fingers of wispy fog moved across the fields like chiffon as the sun slid up over the horizon. There was a large white farmhouse across the road. It was her only visible neighbor other than Nell.

In the distance beyond the white house, a man on a tractor drove through the fog into the endless field of young plants. The wheels of the tractor kicked up a cloud of dust, and the man pulled his cap lower over his eyes. Oh God, she was living in the middle of a Norman Rockwell painting. She spun and returned to the overstuffed sofa, sitting down with a huff of frustration.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” There was laughter in her cousin’s voice.

“This isn’t funny! I just walked the length of the living room in four steps. Four! It takes more than that to walk across my closet in Malibu. I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and I’m already feeling like a caged animal. How am I supposed to last three or four weeks?”

There was a brief moment of silence before Amanda answered. “No, it’s not funny. You need to remember why you’re there in the first place. You’re safe, and you’re giving everyone time to track down the monster who’s stalking you. I don’t want you to be the next Nikki Fitzgerald.”

Bree swallowed hard. It was a little over five weeks ago that Nikki, a pretty up-and-coming actress, woke to find a crazed “fan” in her Hollywood Hills bedroom. He raped her, stabbed her repeatedly and then slashed his own throat at the foot of her bed. The gruesome murder-suicide made headlines around the world and sent a convulsion of fear through Hollywood. That was the moment Bree started to take her stalker a lot more seriously.

“I’d trust Caroline and her husband with my own life,” Amanda continued, “so I certainly trust them with yours. This is what they do for a living.”

Andrew and Caroline McCormack ran a security firm that provided protection for celebrities and politicians around the world. When Caroline heard about the stalker at the baby shower, it was her idea to send Bree to Nell’s. Bree leaned back against the cushions of the sofa and closed her eyes.

“I’m not sure we really thought this through. There must be other options. Instead of being cooped up in this miniature farmhouse, why couldn’t I stay in a luxury resort somewhere? Surely your husband has a suite open in one of his places?”

“Of course you could have gone to one of Blake’s resorts, but the celebrity websites all have standing offers to employees of hotels to leak information about famous guests. Blake does his best to control that sort of thing, but this is your life we’re talking about. Besides, this nut case knows we’re family, so he surely knows about all of Blake’s properties. Everyone agreed the best solution was for you to go somewhere totally off the grid where no one, including the stalker, would think to look.”

“Yeah, but I was still recognized an hour after I arrived.” She cringed at the memory of Emily’s reaction in The Hide-Away. “I should have left right then.”

“Yeah, probably not your best idea to rent a ridiculously expensive car and park it in front of a bar in the center of town in the middle of the afternoon. Why not just hire a marching band to announce your arrival while you were at it?”

She held her phone away and looked at it in surprise. Her cousin wasn’t usually so...blunt. Amanda noticed her silence, and rushed to apologize.

“Oh, damn it, I’m sorry! I swear it’s the hormones talking. I have no filter anymore. I’ve turned into that crazy pregnant lady who’s laughing one minute, crying the next and throwing a tantrum after that. Everyone is tiptoeing around me.”

Bree sighed. “No apology necessary. You’re right. I was an idiot yesterday, sweeping into town like I did. And then I made a scene by arguing with that guy in the bar. You know how I fall back on that snob routine when I’m nervous.”

Her skin tightened at the memory of the one man who didn’t take her crap for one second. Cole Caldwell had ripped through her carefully crafted persona with a couple of grunts and well-aimed insults.

“I get it,” Amanda said softly. “I know all about defensive walls and how to build them.”

Bree nodded. Amanda’s childhood had been dark and painful, and she’d buried that trauma deep until she’d met Blake Randall last summer, along with his orphaned nephew, Zachary, whom they’d now adopted. They lived in Blake’s century-old castle in the Catskills, along with that romantic ghost Amanda credited with their happiness. She’d married Blake six months ago, but they’d gotten a bit of a head start, and she was now eight months pregnant.

“Bree? Are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just daydreaming.” She stood again, feeling restless. “This isn’t where I belong. I know that sounds awful and pretentious or whatever, but I don’t belong here. I mean, Caroline’s mom seems like a nice woman, but there’s a vegetable stand in her front yard. She bakes pies and bread. We have nothing in common.”

“Wait. She cooks? Didn’t you just write a whole book about cooking?”

“The title of the book is Malibu Style, and it’s about entertaining, not just cooking. Somehow I don’t think Nell would be interested in swapping recipes for my famous caviar and gruyere canapés.”

“You’ll never know until you ask. Maybe your next book will be about country style and bread-baking.” Amanda started to giggle. “Sorry, I just had a mental image of you posing for the cover in a ruffled country apron over your designer evening gown!”

They both laughed at that and ended the call with promises to stay in touch as they each counted down the next few weeks: Amanda to deliver her baby girl, and Bree to return to her real life in California.

After a shower and a bowl of cereal, Bree pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and a T-shirt from Gallant Lake, advertising her cousin’s resort.

Beyond the compact kitchen, the rest of the cottage consisted of one more bedroom, a small bathroom with a claw-foot tub, the living room and the front bedroom she’d slept in. The living room opened to a covered front porch facing the road. While the decor wasn’t awful, it was...simple. It reminded her of the plain suburban home she’d grown up in back in Corona, California. That might be why it made her slightly uncomfortable. It represented everything she’d been trying to run away from since her eighteenth birthday.

There was a small bookcase in the back bedroom, and she pulled out a well-worn paperback. The cover featured a bare-chested man with long, dark hair, clutching a red-haired woman in a green velvet gown. A rearing horse in jousting gear was in the background, in front of an imposing castle.

“If I’m going to be here alone for the next few weeks, I may as well enjoy a trashy romance novel.” She grimaced, partly at the book and partly at the realization that she was once again talking to herself. Out loud.

The brave heroine was just beginning to succumb to the brooding charm of her medieval captor when Bree was startled by a knock at the door. She was surprised to see it was almost noon. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment for losing herself so completely in a bodice-ripper, as if she’d been caught being naughty. She tucked the paperback between the cushions of the sofa and went to the door. On the porch stood her biggest fan in the entire town of Russell, North Carolina: young Emily Caldwell. Emily grinned and raised her hands.

“I don’t have a camera, I promise! My mom and I are having lunch over at Miss Nell’s, and we thought you might want to join us. She made sweet tea and we’re having pimento cheese sandwiches on the porch. I promise not to act like a starstruck idiot today.”

The girl’s humor and friendliness touched Bree unexpectedly. She had no idea what a pimento cheese sandwich was, but she suddenly wanted one more than anything. If she didn’t find a way to socialize while she was here, she’d lose her mind. Or end up addicted to historical romances.

“I’d like that, Emily. I’d like that a lot.”

CHAPTER THREE

NELL PATTERSON SAT in her rocking chair and sipped from a tall glass of cold sweet tea. Emily was seated on the steps leading to Nell’s front yard, her hand idly scratching Shep’s ears as the old dog snored by her side. Emily’s mother, Tammy, was on the porch swing with Bree, humming softly to herself as a light breeze brought some blessed relief from the sweltering humidity of the afternoon. The four women had fallen into a comfortable silence after hours of nonstop talk and laughter.

Nell had quickly dispensed with everyone’s initial awkwardness during lunch by asking thoughtful questions and showing genuine interest. Bree found herself giggling at the stories Nell told about the farm animals and some of the customers who came to her fruit and vegetable stand. Tammy talked about her job as a teacher and the bar that was Ty’s pride and joy.

After a bout of shyness, Emily opened up and shared a story about the sophomore class pulling a prank on the high school principal, filling the floor of his pickup truck with ping-pong balls that came bouncing out when he opened his door. Tammy rolled her eyes and winked at her daughter, and Bree felt a pang at the look shared between mother and daughter. It reminded her of times she’d shared with her own mom. The memory was like a paper cut on her heart, unexpected and sharp in its sting.

Bree was reluctant to join in, worried that talking about her Hollywood life would sound pretentious. Which made her wonder if perhaps it was. She sighed.

Tammy turned. “You okay over there?”

“Just feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment.”

“You have friends here. You know that, right?” Tammy rested her hand on Bree’s leg. “Ty told me everything while we were on our way back from Fayetteville.” Ty and Tammy had returned her rental car early that morning. Bree glanced down at Emily, but Tammy went on. “Emily knows, too. I appreciate that you tried to shield her from it, but she’s almost sixteen and more mature than she may have seemed yesterday. It must be scary for you, going from your life to...this.”

“Please don’t take offense, Tammy, but I’m a fish out of water here.” She liked these women. They were so different from women she’d met in Hollywood, who tended to view all other females as adversaries and threats. A simple dinner party there was often nothing more than a prettily disguised battle, with winners and losers clawing for social status.

She didn’t feel the need to be on guard while sipping tea on Nell’s shaded front porch, moving slowly back and forth on the swing. There was no sense of competition, no furtive glances to see what the others were doing or wearing.

Tammy laughed softly. “Why would I take offense? I’d feel just as out of place if you dropped me in the middle of Hollywood.”

“Sweetheart, you’re doing fine,” Nell said. “You broke bread with us today, and we had some good laughs and told stories and passed an afternoon together.”

Bree nodded. “Yes, but it’s day one of what could be several weeks. What am I going to do? I hardly have any clothes, and I’m afraid to go shopping for fear I’ll be recognized. I’ll go stir-crazy if I don’t keep busy, but how can I do that if I don’t do something to look...different?”

“Are you saying you want to change your looks? Like a disguise?” Emily’s interest in the conversation had shifted back into gear. “We could take you to Aunt Melissa’s and she could change your hair! And Mom and I could go shopping for clothes for you. We could give you an alias. It would be perfect!”

“Who’s Aunt Melissa?”

“My sister,” Tammy said, looking thoughtful. “She has a hair salon over in Benton. She’d never tell a soul. It might just work...if that’s what you want. And I could run up to Fayetteville and pick up clothes for you...”

“No!” Emily was almost bouncing with excitement. “I want to be the one who picks out her clothes! I want to make her a country girl!”

Nell shook her head. “Emily, you know full well that clothes don’t make a country girl. It’s the living that does it.” She’d been watching Bree carefully all through lunch, and there were moments when Bree distinctly felt as if the older woman was sizing her up.

“You’re right, Brianna—you’re going to go stir-crazy if you don’t keep yourself busy. I told you yesterday that I needed some help. Get yourself over here in the morning and help me pick vegetables and clean the barn. If we have time, I’ll show you how to bake some of my bread you like so much. New clothes are fine, Emily, but make them working clothes. Miss Mathews is going to learn how to farm.”

“Oh, Nell, I don’t think so...” She tried to come up with an objection, but her mind went blank. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do.

“You don’t need to think. You just need to show up and let me teach you how to be a country girl, not just look like one.”

Within an hour they had a plan in place. Tammy would take Emily to Fayetteville to shop, using a couple of the untraceable gift cards Bree had purchased at JFK before flying to North Carolina. Since Emily would be shopping at Target instead of Escada, Bree was pretty sure no one would recognize her in her new clothing. But just in case, they would make a clandestine visit to Tammy’s sister’s salon on Saturday before it opened, so Bree could get a new look.

Bree was far more relaxed that evening when she walked out onto the front porch of the cottage than she’d been that morning. She’d never expected to spend so much time laughing, or to actually make friends. She took a sip of wine and leaned against one of the tapered pillars supporting the porch roof. The sultry air was thick with the luxurious scents of nature: a heady blend of sweetness and earth and spice and green. The color actually seemed to have a scent of its own here in the South. A background chorus provided by an assortment of insects, frogs and birds serenaded the otherwise still countryside. Unlike the screeching seagulls of Malibu, the birds in North Carolina actually sang.

Southern California tended to be a perpetual assault of noise. There were always a few annoying photographers shouting at her from the outer gate of the beach house, trying to catch her doing something “newsworthy” that a magazine would pay good money to publish. She might be stuck here in Podunk, USA, but at least she didn’t have to worry about paparazzi hiding in the hedges. She could stand outside with a glass of wine and enjoy the solitude, and not hear a single man-made sound. It was a rare moment of peace for a woman normally so driven by the demons of her past that she never took time to savor a respite like this.

She pushed away from the pillar and turned toward the house. A dog barked, and her eyes followed the sound. A dark-colored dog ran around the corner of the big white house across the road. There was a man walking slowly into the enormous field that stretched along the road as far as she could see. He was dressed in jeans and a dark T-shirt, with a ball cap pulled low on his forehead. It was the same man she’d seen on the tractor early that morning. Looking down, he moved slowly along the edge of the field, stopping occasionally to kick at the dirt with the toe of his boot. Once in a while he’d bend over and examine one of the young green plants growing in long, neat rows. His movements were sure and measured, and he appeared totally absorbed in what he was doing. There was something about his lean build and the way he moved that captured her full attention.

Bree walked over to the top of the steps for a better view, and the dog began barking more insistently, looking in her direction. The man, still a good distance away, turned to the dog then raised his head to see what the dog was barking at. That was when the breath vanished from her lungs. She’d know the hard lines of that face anywhere. She could feel his gray eyes on her, even if she couldn’t see them beneath the shade of his hat.

Cole will take you out to Nell’s place in his truck. He lives out that way...

Cole Caldwell was her neighbor.

Before Bree’s brain could fully absorb what that meant, Maggie bounded down the driveway and across the road. She’d never been a fan of dogs, but she knelt on one knee to greet the happy girl. She was a pretty thing with those expressive brown eyes.

“A little early for drinking, isn’t it?” Bree’s head snapped up. Cole was standing in the middle of her yard. He’d stopped there as if that was as far as he dared go, which made her smile just a little as she rose to her feet.

“That’s rich coming from the guy who was drinking at a bar in the middle of the day yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a man.” He made a point to look her up and down, taking in her bare feet, jeans and T-shirt. Women in the South tend to act more like ladies.”

“Sorry to offend your Southern sensibilities, but I’m afraid I left my hoop skirt at home.”

His eyebrow arched and she saw a touch of admiration there. The two of them had scathing sarcasm down to an art. She bit back a smile of triumph and turned to the door to leave him standing there, but Maggie’s soft whine stopped her. She looked down and couldn’t resist scratching the dog’s ears one more time.

“Maggie hasn’t seen anyone at the cottage in a while, and she seems to like you for some reason.” His expression made it clear he couldn’t understand the dog’s logic.

“You never mentioned you were going to be my neighbor.” The words tumbled out without warning, and she knew they sounded like an accusation.

His stoic expression never changed, even as he shrugged a shoulder in dismissal.

“Didn’t see a need to. Doesn’t change anything. You’re Nell’s guest, not mine.”

He gave a sharp, short whistle and Maggie immediately trotted back to his side, leaning against his leg and closing her eyes as his fingers moved against the top of her head. Some of the ever-present tension seemed to leave his body when he touched the dog. Bree wondered what made him so uptight all the time. Then she shook off the thought. She shouldn’t care about a guy who had been nothing but rude to her. She lifted her chin.

“Yes, well, I think we can all agree that the chances of me being your guest are slim to none. What were you doing walking in the field?”

“My job.”

“Which is...?”

He heaved a heavy sigh and his eyes met hers with the force of a sledgehammer. She almost took a step back, just from the intensity of his angry stare.

“Seriously? I’m raising a crop. Checking the soil, inspecting the plants for insects and disease. Just another day in the life of a farmer, Hollywood.”

She didn’t miss the not-so-subtle jab of that ridiculous nickname. He’d made it clear yesterday he thought she was some prima donna who’d faint dead away at the thought of a little hard labor.

“I was just trying to show an interest, Plowboy.” Two could play the nickname game.

He looked as if he was going to reply, but stopped. He started to turn away then turned back toward her with a fierce expression on his face.

“I saw you with Nell, Tammy and Emily this afternoon, laughing it up on the porch like you belonged there.” Her back stiffened at his insinuation that she didn’t belong. “Everyone around here loves Miss Nell, and you’d do well to remember that. I don’t want you bringing any trouble to her or to my family.”

Bree bristled. “Are you suggesting I have some ulterior motive?”

“I don’t know what to think or what your real motivation is. For all I know, cameras are going to come swooping in here at any minute.” He took a step closer, his eyes icy gray and threatening. “You don’t really strike me as the victim type, so maybe you’re just pulling some kind of publicity stunt. I don’t know, and I don’t care, as long as you don’t bring embarrassment to the people I care about.”

He thought she was making up the story about being stalked? That she was here as some kind of joke? This man really was a jackass of major proportions.

“Do you have a computer, or is that too twenty-first century for you?”

“I have a computer. And no, you can’t borrow it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Her hand rested on the knob of the front door and she looked over her shoulder at him. “If you really think my story is some kind of joke, type in the name Nikki Fitzgerald and see what you find.”

“I have better things to do with my time than to look up Hollywood gossip.”

His cool dismissal made her want to stomp her feet in frustration.

“Fine.” She spat the word at him. “You did your good deed and delivered me to Nell’s. Why don’t you just go home and leave me alone?”

He stared at her hard for a long, silent moment. Then he gave another careless shrug.

“No problem, Hollywood. I’m gone.”

He turned away without another word. Maggie looked over her shoulder at Bree and gave a quick wag of her tail, then trotted away at Cole’s side. Bree watched them walk back to the big white house. A porch wrapped around all four sides. Did he live there alone? I wasn’t like she knew anything about the man. She went into the cottage to find more wine. Maybe he was married to some unfortunate woman and had a houseful of grumpy, gray-eyed children. Instead of making her feel better, the thought soured her mood even more.

CHAPTER FOUR

BREE SAT DOWN on the grass in front of Nell’s house Friday afternoon with a loud sigh that morphed into an even louder groan. Every muscle cried out for mercy. Scratches covered her arms and legs, exposed by her denim cutoffs, which had been created when Nell took a pair of scissors to Bree’s three-hundred-dollar designer jeans. Her sweat-soaked lavender tank top was borrowed from Tammy. Her white running shoes were brown with dirt. Her skin was taking on a surprising golden hue already, despite the sunscreen she slathered on every morning and again at lunchtime. Her acrylic nails were cracked and broken. Three were missing entirely, exposing her real fingernails to the air for the first time in years. Rivers of sweat drifted aimlessly down her back in the stifling humidity.

She’d already learned a lot in just a few days working on Nell’s farm. The work had to be done, regardless of sweltering sun or pouring rain or protesting muscles. Animals needed fresh bedding every day. Eggs had to be gathered. The piglets liked to have cool mud to squirm around in. Even though they were out to pasture, cattle needed to be fed and checked routinely. Vegetables needed to be picked at the exact moment of perfect ripeness. And weeds grew like...well, like weeds. Weeds were evil and must be destroyed. She leaned back on her arms and looked up through the thick canopy of leaves on the tree above her. She’d been weeding Nell’s enormous vegetable patch for two hours now, and she still wasn’t finished.

“Darlin’, you look about done in. Why don’t you call it quits for today? You can finish the weeding tomorrow.” Nell was walking toward her with a tall glass of her famous sweet tea. She started to hand it to Bree then frowned. “Oh, honey, you should get up off the grass. You’re sitting right next to a fire ant nest.”

Sure enough, there were already several dots of six-legged misery crawling on her right arm and hand. She jumped up with a squeal and started brushing them away, but they were already biting her. She frantically danced around, slapping and cursing at the tiny pests who bit with the ferocity of lions. When she was free of them at last, she looked up at Nell and saw laughter dancing in the older woman’s eyes.

Bree started to laugh out loud. “It’s not funny! I already have welts on my arms from those little devils! You told me not to sit on the grass, but I was too tired to walk to the porch.”

“Child, it’s too hot to be out here weeding in this sun today. You need to slow down. It isn’t a race, you know. Those weeds aren’t going anywhere.” Nell looked at Bree’s dirty, shattered fingernails and smiled. “You don’t have to keep trying to be the best farm woman ever.”

Nell was always telling her to slow down, but Bree didn’t want to. She needed to be too busy to think about where she was and why. Too busy to think about the guy who wanted to kill her. Too busy to think about the difference between women like Nell and Tammy and the supposed friends she had in Malibu. Too busy to think about the man with the gray eyes who was riding his tractor in the field across the road from her right now. And she needed to make herself tired enough to sleep through the quiet, lonely nights.

She took a long draught of the teeth-clenching sweet tea. It was amazing that something so sweet could be so refreshing on a hot day. It was an even bigger surprise that she was truly enjoying these long days of hard work and easy laughter, and the warm friendship she was developing with Nell. They’d baked together in Nell’s kitchen yesterday, and she already had a deep respect for the woman’s skills. Nell muttered something, and she looked up to see her staring across the road. Bree followed the direction of her gaze and saw Cole in the distance, driving his tractor across the field behind the barns. She stiffened, and Nell noticed.

“He’s a good man, honey. I know he’s a hard man, but he has his reasons. You don’t know where he’s been. What he’s seen. He was hurt serving in Afghanistan, in more ways than one. He’s doing the best he knows how.”

Bree choked down the urge to ask all the questions that were right on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t need to know. Didn’t care. Instead, she changed the subject.

“What time is dinner, Nell?” While they were baking pies yesterday, Nell had suggested the two women should share their evening meals. Nell stared at her for a minute before answering, and she had the distinct impression that the older woman knew she was intentionally avoiding any conversation about Cole.

“Not until around six. Why don’t you go take a shower and a nap?”

“I want to take care of the barn first, then I’ll go shower. I’ll save the sleeping for tonight.” Nights were her most difficult time. The darkness of the countryside was almost smothering, and she jumped at every noise she heard. Her dreams were a restless mix of lurking danger and slate gray eyes. The more tired she was, the better chance she’d sleep through the night undisturbed.

* * *

COLE WALKED ACROSS the country road and up the front path to Nell’s house Friday night with Maggie trotting at his side. It wasn’t unusual for Nell to invite him over for dinner, but this morning was the first call she’d made since her new tenant arrived. He’d started to politely decline, but then she’d asked him for help. There was a board on the horse corral that was split, and she wanted him to replace it. He would never refuse Nell. He owed her too much. He couldn’t bring himself to ask that Bree not be invited, but he was sure crossing his fingers that she wouldn’t be here.

He’d avoided Nell’s place all week just so he didn’t have to see the sharp-tongued redhead. And he’d had plenty to do, with the young soybean crop needing pesticides to fight off an invasion of stink bugs. That kept him busy on the tractor all week. He’d seen Bree around the farm the past few days, and he had to admit she was working pretty hard for a city girl. But he still wondered when she’d give up on her little adventure and run back to California.

He didn’t see her stretched out on the porch swing until his foot landed on the top step of Nell’s porch. Her soft lips were parted and her chest, under a gauzy leopard print top, was rising and falling slowly. She was sound asleep. One arm rested across her stomach, but the other had fallen off to the side, her fingertips trailing on the floor. Her dark red hair was swept to the side, partially covering her face. There were new cinnamon-colored freckles sprinkled across her cheeks, brought out by hours in the sun. Unlike the last time he’d been this close to her, she didn’t seem to have a drop of makeup on. Her porcelain skin was beginning to take on a soft honey hue. The only hint of sunburn was on the tip of her nose, where he could see just a bit of peeling red skin.

A soft voice behind him made him jump. Usually so hyperaware of his surroundings, he hadn’t even heard Nell come outside. She looked at Bree fondly as she rested a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s about wrung out, poor child. I told her not to worry about those last three rows to be weeded, but she’s a stubborn one. Takes everything as a challenge.” Nell glanced up at him. “She’s a good girl, Cole, and she’s a hard worker. I like her.” The last three words were said with some force, as if Nell was warning him to be on his best behavior. He nodded.

“I assume she’s having dinner with us?”

“Of course. Bree and I are teaching each other all kinds of recipes and having a great time doing it. There hasn’t been this much laughter in the house since Caroline moved away.”

It came as a bit of a shock to realize Bree’s laughter was something he’d really like to hear. So far, he’d only seen her hissing and spitting like a feral cat. Of course, that might have something to do with him. Nell nudged his arm. “Wake her up and bring her inside, Cole. Dinner’s about ready.” She was gone before he could protest.

He meant to wake her without startling her. Really, he did. But the swing rocked unexpectedly when he put his hand on the chain, nearly sending Bree to the floor and causing her to sit up with a jolt. Their eyes met, and he couldn’t help but admire the fire he saw flaring up in her emerald glare. She was like a wild horse just looking to be tamed, and he wanted to be the one to tame her.

What?

He scolded himself for thinking such a stupid thing. Her voice sliced into him, driving home exactly how stupid it was.

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you want?” She blinked rapidly, trying to catch her bearings.

“I’m an invited dinner guest, Hollywood. Sorry for startling you, but dinner’s ready.” He couldn’t resist giving her a jab. “And real farmers don’t sleep while the sun’s still up.”

She stood, her back ramrod straight. In flat sandals and skin-tight black leggings, she was only a few inches shorter than him. What little she lacked in height, she made up for in spirit.

“Don’t give me that crap.” Her lips curled in anger. “I’ve worked my butt off since I got here. Now excuse me, but I’m going to see if Nell needs my help with anything. I didn’t know we were having company tonight, but it figures you wouldn’t turn down a free meal.” She brushed past him with her head held high, looking like freaking royalty as she slammed the screen door closed behind her.

Well...damn...

It seemed as if all their conversations ended with her storming off mad as a hornet. But she sure put on a fine show while doing it. He followed her into the house in bemused silence.

Dinner was more relaxed than he’d expected. Bree and Nell had obviously become close in their short time together, and he finally got a glimpse of Bree’s softer side as she interacted with his neighbor. Nell told him about Bree’s lessons in farming, laughing as she described Bree’s first few failed attempts at pushing a wheelbarrow full of horse manure up the ramp to be dumped behind the barn.

“I swear, I think this woman filled every wheelbarrow load two or three times as they kept spilling, but she didn’t give up! And then she went into the pigpen and found out how good Spot is at the sneak attack. Bree ended up sitting waist-deep in the mud, surrounded by squealing piglets! My God, the look on her face...”

And that was when it happened. Bree’s cheeks blushed pink under the freckles, and she laughed out loud. Her green eyes were sparkling and clear, just like the sound of her laughter. She rested her hand on Nell’s arm.

“Nell, stop it! Pretty soon you’ll be telling him about me getting stepped on by that stupid horse, and then I’ll be forced to tell him what happened when you tried to fold a napkin into a swan. It looked more like a phallic symbol!” The two women were both laughing hysterically now, with Nell wiping tears from her eyes. Bree glanced across the table at him, and for once, she didn’t put her armor up. She just smiled at him as her laughter faded into giggles.

Brianna Mathews was a drop-dead gorgeous woman when she smiled, and damned if he wasn’t attracted to her. The feeling was unexpected and unsettling. He hadn’t been attracted to a woman in a long time. It was more than lust or the need to scratch a long-overdue itch. He wanted to know this woman. He sat back and frowned in confusion. Why now? And definitely why her?

She saw his dark expression and stopped midgiggle, as if remembering she wasn’t supposed to be smiling at him. There was a split second of awkward silence before Nell jumped in.

“Emily told me you were in beauty pageants, Bree. What got you started in that?”

She clearly wasn’t comfortable talking about herself, but she opened up under Nell’s gentle nudging. She told Nell—she was back to avoiding looking his way—that she entered her first teen pageant at her mom’s request. Her mother was ill, and Bree wanted to please her. She made it sound like money was tight, and she’d started doing more pageants to earn scholarship money and prizes. Her mom died on Bree’s eighteenth birthday, and Cole couldn’t miss the shadow of pain that crossed her face when she said that. Half his meal was cooling on his plate, and he didn’t care. He was too absorbed with her story and the swirl of emotions in her eyes as she spoke.

She quit the pageants, but then some pageant coach tracked her down and convinced her to try for Miss California. She won that and was a runner-up in the national competition.

“So is that where you picked up this stalker of yours?” Nell’s question was said kindly and with concern, but the effect on Bree was immediate. Color drained from her face, and her fork clattered noisily against her plate.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry...”

“No, Nell, it’s okay to ask. After all, that’s why I’m here.” Her smile was tight and forced, but he had to give her credit for trying to make Nell feel better. “That didn’t start until recently. Unfortunately, Hollywood breeds weirdos. At first it was just letters in the mail signed ‘Your Loving Husband,’ and I knew they weren’t from my ex. The letters referred to specific events or outfits, making it clear that he was watching me. He said I needed to remember that my appearance reflected on him, too. He started texting photos of me that he’d taken with a cell phone, and he’d give me his opinion on whether my clothing was ‘appropriate.’ I changed my number, but he had the new one in just a matter of days and started again as if nothing had happened. He said I should start acting more—” she glanced across the table at him “—more like a lady.” Cole winced, remembering his comment to her a few nights ago. “There were odd phone calls that I figured were from him. It was only in the past month or so that I felt someone might be watching my house.”

“Your house? While you were there?” Nell put her hand on Bree’s. Cole’s own hands were clenched tightly.

She frowned. “I thought I was imagining it at first, because it was just a feeling that sometimes I wasn’t alone. But he confirmed it when he sent a picture of me inside the house, taken from outdoors. He was looking through the windows somehow. And then, after Nikki Fitzgerald...”

“Oh, Lord, that poor young thing,” Nell said.

Cole was really regretting not looking up that damned name, because he had no idea why the heavy silence fell on the table. As if she felt the weight of it, Bree suddenly stood and started grabbing plates.

“I’ve forgotten my manners, Nell. This is hardly appropriate dinner conversation. Let me get that dessert.”

While they enjoyed Nell’s blueberry pie and talked about the farm, he glanced at Nell and was surprised to find her staring straight at him. She raised an eyebrow and he realized he was leaning forward, toward Bree, as if he was hanging on every word. He frowned and pushed himself back into the chair.

“I’d better get to work on that fence before it gets dark.” His chair scraped across the tile floor as he rose abruptly to his feet. “Thanks for dinner, Nell. It was great, as always.”

She had an odd smile on her face, as if she was holding back some sort of joke. She nodded at him and winked. What the hell was that about?

“Come on, Bree, let’s take care of the kitchen while Cole does his chores.”

Bree didn’t answer, but she collected the dessert plates and followed Nell. Maggie trotted behind him out the back door as he headed to the barn for a toolbox and a fresh fence board. Old Shep started to join them then thought better of it and stretched out on the back steps to the house.

Twenty minutes later Cole slid the newly sawed board into place at shoulder height and leaned against it, holding it against the post while he fished for two more nails in his pocket. The board started to slip and he cursed as it dropped. But it was caught and lifted back into place. He looked up to see Bree on the other side of the fence, holding up the board and giving him a crooked grin.

“Farmers help each other, right?”

He looked at her long fingers supporting the rough-cut 1x8. Most of her fingernails were chipped and devoid of polish. Three nails were broken, one nearly to the quick. There was an angry blister on her palm. His eyebrows rose. Nell wasn’t bluffing when she said Bree had been working hard. But instead of complimenting her, he fell back to his standard snarl.

“You should have gloves on. You’ll be full of slivers.” He lifted the hammer.

“Yeah. You’re welcome. Glad to help.” Sarcasm dripped from those pretty lips. Wait. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her lips. Those full, rose-colored lips that had haunted his sleep every night this week. The lips he was staring at right this minute. The lips that were now moving, speaking to him.

“Take your time, Cole. I’ll stand here all night if you need me to.” Her forearm trembled, and he realized she was holding the full weight of the ten-foot board.

“Sorry,” he said automatically. Damn it, that wasn’t the first time she’d gotten him to say that word since she arrived, and the thought annoyed the daylights out of him. He swung the hammer, making quick work of the final two long nails that now held the fence firmly intact. Bree shook her hand, wincing. He grabbed her wrist, sliding off one of his leather gloves to examine her palm. A dark half-inch sliver was visible just under the tender skin at the base of her thumb.

“I tried to warn you...” he muttered, half to himself. He held her hand firmly and fished his jackknife out of his pocket. With one swift move, he opened the knife, set it under the tip of the sliver and pulled it out. When a dot of blood appeared, he was surprised how much it affected him. He brushed the blood away with his thumb, still holding her hand in his.

“Go inside and have Nell put something on that so it doesn’t get infected.” He saw the angry red bites on her forearm and rubbed his fingers across them. “Fire ants?”

“One of my many lessons in farm life this week. Look before you sit down in the yard to rest, because there might be an ant hill there.” She slowly pulled her hand out of his, and he felt a surprising pang of loss. “And today’s lesson is...wear gloves. And apparently naps are for sissies.”

The corner of his mouth twitched toward a smile. “Nah. Naps are okay. For old people and womenfolk, anyway.”

She grinned, and his body warmed. “And which category are you putting me in?”

His eyes slid down her body. The gauzy top and snug leggings didn’t leave much to the imagination. Before he knew it, he was saying his thoughts out loud. “You’re all woman, Brianna. All woman.”

“I won’t be for long if I keep this up. Look at my hands. And my skin. I haven’t had this many freckles since I was a kid. The sun is doing a number on me...” Her eyes met his and she stopped talking, as if she just now realized what he’d said. “Wait...did you just say something nice to me?”

This conversation was heading in a dangerous direction. He forced the growl back into his voice.

“What? By calling you a woman? Isn’t that how you make your living?” She stepped back and paled. But wasn’t it the truth? Pageant queen? Hollywood trophy wife? He wasn’t going to feel guilty for stating the obvious.

Her voice settled to a steely level. “Right. I knew I must be mistaken about that ‘nice’ business. Are we done here?” She nodded to the fence.

He barely managed to stop himself from apologizing yet again. Instead, he bent to pick up his tools and walked away without saying another word. He was pretty sure he heard her call him a jackass under her breath. So be it. She wasn’t wrong.

When Cole got home, he paced the floors in agitation.

That woman. That woman. That woman.

Just being in her presence was enough to send his pulse jumping. She challenged him and pushed him and ticked him off. And that was the problem in a nutshell. She made him feel things. And Cole Caldwell didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to let his emotions out of the cage he’d stuffed them into. They were safe and controllable when they were confined. Bree Mathews was anything but safe and controllable. She was too big a risk. Too dangerous for a man who used to face danger as part of everyday life.

When he’d reached for her hand and held it...well, something happened. Something that felt profound, which was ridiculous. Her hand in his felt soft and smooth and perfect. And those freckles she complained about? He thought they looked like gold dust scattered across her ivory skin. In the bar on Monday afternoon, he thought her complexion was artificial, a product of cosmetics and Hollywood magic. But tonight she was scrubbed clean and glowing from a week in the sun. Tonight her skin, unencumbered with artificial enhancement, was perfect. He wondered what the parts of her body that he hadn’t seen looked like. Did she have freckles in hidden places? Did she have porcelain skin everywhere?

He kicked an ottoman and sent it sliding across the hardwood floor. She was making him crazy. Thank God she was only here temporarily. Once that stalker was arrested, she’d be back home in Hollywood.

Maggie settled onto her bed by the front door with a heavy sigh and stared at him with large, dark eyes. Most of the time she spent her nights outside on the porch, reminiscent of their days in Afghanistan when she’d stand watch outside the tents. Old habits died hard, even for dogs. But tonight she knew he needed her close.

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