An exciting trilogy about triplet sisters separated at birth—and reunited by love!

MILLIONAIRE TAKES A BRIDE by Pamela Toth

When charming rogue Ryan Noble set his mind on taking a bride, he did just that. Trouble was, he claimed Sarah Daniels…the wrong triplet! To make matters worse, his unintended bride’s irresistible allure was stealing his heart.

THE BRIDAL QUEST by Jennifer Mikels

Runaway heiress Jessica Walker went into hiding as a nanny for handsome Sam Dawson’s darling daughters. But could the sheriff’s little matchmakers convince Jessica that their daddy was the husband she’d always longed for?

EXPECTANT BRIDE-TO-BE by Nikki Benjamin

Pregnant and alone after an unexpected night of passion with Jack Randall, her childhood sweetheart, Abby Summers resigned herself to single-motherhood. Jack had other ideas. He wanted to make Abby his wife, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer….

Dear Reader,

As the air begins to chill outside, curl up under a warm blanket with a mug of hot chocolate and these six fabulous Special Edition novels….

First up is bestselling author Lindsay McKenna’s A Man Alone, part of her compelling and highly emotional MORGAN’S MERCENARIES: MAVERICK HEARTS series. Meet Captain Thane Hamilton, a wounded Marine who’d closed off his heart long ago, and Paige Black, a woman whose tender loving care may be just what the doctor ordered.

Two new miniseries are launching this month and you’re not going to want to miss either one! Look for The Rancher Next Door, the first of rising star Susan Mallery’s brand-new miniseries, LONE STAR CANYON. Not even a long-standing family feud can prevent love from happening! Also, veteran author Penny Richards pens a juicy and scandalous love story with Sophie’s Scandal, the first of her wonderful new trilogy—RUMOR HAS IT…that two high school sweethearts are about to recapture the love they once shared….

Next, Jennifer Mikels delivers a wonderfully heartwarming romance between a runaway heiress and a local sheriff with The Bridal Quest, the second book in the HERE COME THE BRIDES series. And Diana Whitney brings back her popular STORK EXPRESS series. Could a Baby of Convenience be just the thing to bring two unlikely people together?

And last, but not least, please welcome newcomer Tori Carrington to the line. Just Eight Months Old…and she’d stolen the hearts of two independent bounty hunters—who just might make the perfect family!

Enjoy these delightful tales, and come back next month for more emotional stories about life, love and family!

Best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

The Bridal Quest
Jennifer Mikels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Books by Jennifer Mikels

Silhouette Special Edition

A Sporting Affair #66

Whirlwind #124

Remember the Daffodils #478

Double Identity #521

Stargazer #574

Freedom’s Just Another Word #623

A Real Charmer #694

A Job for Jack #735

Your Child, My Child #807

Denver’s Lady #870

Jake Ryker’s Back in Town #929

Sara’s Father #947

Child of Mine #993

Expecting: Baby #1023

Married…With Twins! #1054

Remember Me? #1107

A Daddy for Devin #1150

The Marriage Bargain #1168

Temporary Daddy #1192

Just the Three of Us #1251

Forever Mine #1265

The Bridal Quest #1360

Silhouette Romance

Lady of the West #462

Maverick #487

Perfect Partners #511

The Bewitching Hour #551

JENNIFER MIKELS

is from Chicago, Illinois, but now resides in Phoenix, Arizona, with her husband, two sons and a shepherd-collie. She enjoys reading, sports, antiques, yard sales and long walks. Though she’s done technical writing in public relations, she loves writing romances and happy endings.

You are cordially invited

to the double wedding of

Jessica walker

&

Sam Dawson

AND

Sarah Daniels

&

Ryan Noble

Reception hosted by Stuart Walker

at the Walker mansion,

Willow Springs, Nevada

Contents

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 One

“Lady, what are you doing there?”

Jessica Walker spun around and away from the handwritten Help Wanted sign she’d been reading. Standing in the shadowed light of the moon, she shrank against the window of the local diner behind her. Her heart pounding, she fought panic, and peered at the man approaching her from his car. If only she could see his face.

Darkness shadowed the stairs, but while he climbed them, she gathered an impression. He was tall and broad-shouldered, not old, maybe in his thirties. She saw no more. A beam of light flashed in her eyes, blinding her. She squinted, then looked away from the flashlight he held. “Who are you?” she demanded back to veil fear. It skittered up her spine as he took another step closer.

“The sheriff. Sam Dawson.”

Almost on top of her, he lowered the flashlight. She stared hard, saw it now, the badge pinned to a pale, maybe khaki-colored shirt. He was the last person she wanted to see.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing out here.”

She drew a shaky, but calmer breath. She got an image of a good-looking man. Great-looking, she realized when he stepped into the faint light from the diner’s sign. He had a face of angles, from the sharp cheekbones and the bridge of the long, straight nose to the strongly defined jaw. Briefly her eyes stopped on his lips, on the full bottom one. “I saw the Help Wanted sign on the window when the bus drove by the diner,” she finally answered.

“You came by bus?”

“Yes.” She’d thought Thunder Lake, Nevada might be a good place to hide when she’d left her Ferrari in a parking lot blocks from the bus station. Earlier, while riding by, a neon sign for Herb’s Diner had caught her eye. By the time she’d gotten off the bus, the diner had closed, and darkness shielded a view of the inside.

“Step over here,” he said, urging her out of the shadows and toward the diner’s door and the light.

Her heart beat harder as she followed his suggestion and plastered her back to the door.

“Where did you come from?”

Panic rushed her again. What if he asked for identification? “West of here.”

“West? That’s pretty vague.” A thread of annoy ance entered his voice. “West of Thunder Lake? West of Hoover Dam?” He inclined his head as if trying to see her eyes. “West of what, mystery lady?”

“I’m not.” Her fingers tightened on her purse strap.

“Not what?”

“A mystery lady.” Nerves. She could hear them in the stiffness of her voice.

“What’s your name?”

“Scott. Jessica Scott.” Oh, please don’t ask for identification. How dumb not to have thought of this problem before she’d taken off. She’d left, deciding to use a maid’s last name. She’d reasoned that using Walker, her real name, bordered on idiotic if she didn’t want anyone to find her. But her only identification carried the name Walker. She hurried words to steer conversation her way. “I wanted to read the sign, see if there was a time on the door. I planned to get here early, be the first one applying for the job.”

He sort of laughed. The husky soft sound whispered over her, relaxed her quicker than anything else might have. “There won’t be a crowd rushing the door for the waitress job. Don’t worry about it.”

She needed to act normal. Not make him suspicious. “Oh, that’s good.”

“You’ve been a waitress before?”

She nodded. Liar, liar, pants on fire. She could have told him that she possessed a wealth of other skills. She’d charmed dignitaries during a state dinner at the Governor’s house. She’d persuaded a CEO of a major corporation to write a check for her favorite charity. She’d hobnobbed with high society. But she’d never worked a day in her life.

“Are you visiting someone here?”

Questions. How many questions would he ask? “No.” She’d chosen the town on a whim. She’d closed her eyes and had drawn a small imaginary circle on the Nevada map. Her well-manicured fingernail had zeroed in on Thunder Lake. She’d thought it sounded peaceful, envisioned huge pines and a deep blue-colored lake. In retrospect, she believed she should have run to a big city in another state instead of the small northern town in Nevada.

For a long moment, his eyes fixed on her face as if memorizing it. Then he took a more relaxed stance. She assumed he’d decided she wasn’t planning to break in. “Where are you staying?”

She had no idea. Uneasiness rushing through her again, she dodged his stare. Several hundred feet away, across the street, a sign for a motel flashed like a welcoming beacon in the night. She spotted the vacancy sign. More important were the words below it. Cheapest rates in town. “Over there,” she said, pointing.

A breeze whipped around her, tossing her hair. No longer paralyzed by fear, as the chilly April air sliced through her, she shivered.

“It’s cold. You should go to your room. Though this is a small town, it’s still not a good idea to be wandering around so late by yourself.”

“Late? Nine o’clock is late?” Obviously the streets rolled up early.

She supposed she looked as amazed by his words as she sounded because he offered an explanation. “It is in Thunder Lake. Except in summer when tourists come, it’s a quiet town. People work hard here, get up early, go to bed early.”

She heard pride in his voice when he talked. Without knowing a thing about Sheriff Sam Dawson, she’d make a guess that he was born and raised here.

“Sounds as if you’re used to big-city living.”

Instinctively she tensed. Be careful, she warned herself. He was trained to read between lines. “I’ll—I should go,” she said with a wave of her hand in the direction of the motel. Leaving quickly seemed the smartest thing to do. She gave him a semblance of a smile, hoped it convinced him that she wasn’t a fugitive on the run.

“Good night.”

She gave up her love affair with the diner door and inched forward. He still hadn’t moved. What now? she wondered, nerves jumping as she waited for him to step aside.

“Welcome to Thunder Lake, Jessica Scott.”

An almost nervous giggle of relief threatened to slip out. “Thank you.” Before she did something dumb and gave herself away, she sidestepped him, then hurried toward the street. She probably wouldn’t see him again, didn’t have to worry about him.

She passed his car, saw the emblem on the side, signifying Thunder Lake Sheriff’s Department. Great beginnings, Jessica. Less than half an hour in town, and she’d caught the eye of the local sheriff.

Still feeling edgy, when she reached the street, she dared a look back. He was standing by his car in the shadows. His face was hidden by the darkness, but she just knew he was still watching her.

Chapter Two

For a long moment, Sam stood by a kitchen window and watched a hummingbird hover near a feeder in his next-door neighbor’s silver oak. In April, days passed lazily. Before the tourist season of summer, his duties centered on too many meetings with the mayor about requisitions for new cars or uniforms, answering complaint calls and patrolling the town.

He heard chair legs scrape across the kitchen floor behind him, but instead of turning around, he let his mind wander to last night, to the woman he’d seen. About five foot seven and willowy, she’d hardly be a threat to anyone. He hadn’t seen her clearly, but she looked out of place standing alone, in the dark, reading a Help Wanted sign. He had questions, but had seen no purpose in keeping her. If she stuck around, got the job, he’d find out more.

As the smell of coffee drifted to him, he turned away from the window. Hinting of the warmer weather to come, bright morning sunlight bathed the kitchen in a warm glow. He moved to the coffee brewer, and began counting drips, waiting for the last one to drop. He needed to quit or cut down, do something. He’d given up smoking long ago, but still needed a quick fix of caffeine to get going in the morning.

“I want to eat the chocolate bears, Daddy.”

Grabbing a blue mug from a cup tree first, he swivelled a look over his shoulder at Casey. On a yawn, his youngest plopped on a chair at the kitchen table.

“You should have something more nutrichess for breakfast. Shouldn’t she, Daddy?” her older sister piped in. At six, Annie believed in her ability to mother her dolls, her younger sister and sometimes him.

At certain moments, she looked so much like his late wife that his heart twisted. Rail thin, she had shiny brown hair that she’d recently asked to have cut in some trendy bob style. He hadn’t resisted. The short cut meant no more mornings struggling with a hair clip or one of those doughnut-looking cloth things, or having to French braid her hair. Now there was a challenge. Give him a perp in an alley any day.

He smiled at the thought. He hadn’t encountered one in five years, since he and a pregnant Christina had left Las Vegas, when he’d chosen to be a small-town sheriff instead of another big-city cop.

“Daddy, I want them,” Casey insisted, her bottom lip thrusting out.

Back to the chocolate bears.

“There aren’t enough left for even one bowl,” Annie piped in. “Daddy didn’t go to the grocery store yesterday.”

Sam cringed at the accusing tone in her voice. She could make that transgression sound like the crime of the century.

Disbelief edged his youngest daughter’s voice. “Didn’t you, Daddy?” His urchin. With her silky blond hair brushing her shoulders, at four, Casey cared more about making mud pies and riding her new bike with the training wheels than her looks. While her sister had mastered a tone that one day would deliver a reprimand with a few choice words, Sam’s youngest needed to say nothing. With one look, she’d drill someone into the ground. He watched her blue eyes narrow. She was a second away from leveling that look at him.

“I bought some,” he told her.

Sunshine returned. “You did?” Her face broke into a smile.

Saved by a quick stop at a convenience store last night, Sam mused. “I did.”

Annie delivered a pleased grin. “That’s good. If there hadn’t been more, I would have given you my share,” she assured her sister.

Sam closed one eye in her direction. Who was that strange child sitting there? Was this some new phase she was embarking on? He sure had a hard time keeping up. He opened the box of cereal, poured it in two bowls, and set them on the table.

With the girls busy crunching away on the chocolate bears that were swimming in milk and turning it the color of cocoa, he finally poured himself a cup of coffee. He’d bought one of those two-cup coffee brewers for his survival. He never had time to wait for a full pot, and figured there was less waste this way.

“Mrs. Mulvane is here,” Casey said with the opening of the back door.

Sam gazed over the rim of the coffee cup at the girls’ nanny.

“Good morning.” Arlene Mulvane’s voice cracked with her bright, cheery greeting. The elderly woman, a grandmother of four, and great-grandmother of two, lumbered into the kitchen. Several months ago after his third nanny had quit, she’d arrived at the door, and said she would take the job. He’d wondered if Arlene and several of the other town do-gooders had drawn straws to see which of them would volunteer to help “the poor dear man alone with those two little girls.” Regardless, Arlene had blended in well, treated the girls like her own granddaughters. Though she didn’t live in, she would stay late when he couldn’t get home on time.

“And we’re going to the fire station on our next field trip,” Annie was informing Arlene.

Casey offered her opinion. “The lizard farm is better.”

“Yuk!” Annie screwed up her nose, but her bright blue eyes shifted to Sam. “Don’t forget our date.”

He assumed the day would come when some other male would receive that eager look. For now, he had exclusive rights to it. “I won’t forget.”

“Around twelve-thirty?” Arlene asked.

Sam nodded, then drained the coffee in his cup. On Saturday when they had no school, they met him for lunch. “I’ll be at the diner.”

The bell above the diner door jingled. Crowded, noisy, the diner, with its blue-and-white decor, held the aroma of perked coffee and freshly baked cinnamon buns. One of the waitresses poured coffee into two thick mugs and plunked them down in front of customers at the counter. Country music from a jukebox played in the background. Another waitress balanced plates along her arm and weaved her way to a booth near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Jessica had arrived at the diner before dawn broke. Dew had clung to the ground. Now the sun lightened a sky lavish with clouds.

Hurrying toward a customer who’d asked for another glass of water, she was having a terrible morning. Twice, she’d messed up orders. She wondered why she hadn’t expected problems. After all, she’d bluffed her way into the waitress job this morning, but she’d truly believed she could handle it. How foolish, Jessica.

At the end of the counter, two construction workers from a nearby site waited for a bottle of Tabasco sauce to pour on their eggs, and the fellow in the last booth who she hadn’t gotten to yet scowled at the clock on the wall.

“Scott! Your order’s up,” Herb yelled.

It took a moment to remember to respond to the name. When she’d applied for the job, Herb had questioned why her identification said Walker. She’d claimed she hadn’t changed her name back, let him assume Walker was a married name. Briefly she’d held her breath, worried, but busy and distracted, he’d handed her a shirt and had registered no recognition to the Walker name.

Pivoting around, she picked up orders. She abandoned any notion of balancing the plates on her arm. With one in each hand, she started for the table. Better to make several trips than to dump the breakfast on the floor.

“This isn’t what I ordered,” the man growled when she’d set down his plate.

Sure it was. She was certain she’d gotten the order right. “I’ll take care of that, sir.”

She placed her reorder, then grabbed the coffee pot to fill cups. At the end of the counter, one customer, a petite woman in her mid-sixties with bright red hair and a broad smile, had been watching her ever since she’d entered the diner. Since all the servers and Herb had stopped to talk to her, Jessica assumed the woman was a regular customer.

“Name’s Trudy Holtrum,” the woman said. “I heard there was a new waitress.”

Jessica paused and filled the woman’s coffee cup. “I’m Jessica Scott.”

Trudy bobbed her head as if looking for a yes answer to a question not yet asked. “Have you met the sheriff yet?”

Jessica started to frown. Why would she ask such a question? “Yes, why?”

“I work for him,” Trudy explained. “Lots of women in town are willing to give him a run for his money. Are you?”

“Pardon?” Though stunned by her candor, Jessica laughed.

Hazel eyes met hers with heart-stopping directness. “Don’t you find him attractive?”

Jessica couldn’t mask her incredulity. “What? I don’t even know—”

Nothing fazed the woman. “Better than that, huh?” She peered over her wire-rimmed glasses at Jessica. “Handsome? Sexy?”

Politeness stretched only so far, Jessica decided. “Trudy, I don’t think—”

The charms on her bracelet clattered as she set down her coffee cup. “Oh, he’s sexy, all right.” Grinning, she placed her hands on the counter and heaved herself to a stand.

“See you,” Jessica said.

“Likely.” The woman’s eyes sparkled. “Since you and the sheriff might be an item.”

Jessica laughed as Trudy ambled toward the door. The woman was eccentric, probably a gossip and delightful.

As the breakfast rush dwindled down, she refilled water glasses, checked sugar containers and set up several sets of silverware.

By eleven-thirty, the lunch crowd began to wander in. Tables filled quickly. Every stool at the counter was occupied. She noticed that no one sat in her first booth and wondered if she’d already earned a reputation for dropping dishes, and people were avoiding her.

At twelve-thirty, she learned that she had nothing to do with the booth being left empty. She was in the middle of delivering an order of meat loaf when the bell jingled, announcing a customer and she heard Herb’s greeting. “Afternoon, Sam. Your usual booth is waiting for you.”

The sheriff’s usual booth was the empty one in her station.

What happened next really was his fault, she decided. He shouldn’t have been so good-looking. Then she wouldn’t have been eyeing him instead of watching where she was going. She wouldn’t have dropped the tray of dishes.

Plates clattered to the black-and-white tile floor of Herb’s Diner. Heads swung in Jessica’s direction. And her boss, Herb scowled.

Feeling knots in her shoulders, she rolled them slightly before she began picking up the glass.

A broom in her hand, Cory Winston sidled close to Jessica and began to sweep splintered glass in a pile. “Let me give you a hand.” A bottle blond in her early thirties, Cory had worked for Herb since she’d graduated from high school. “Don’t feel bad, hon,” she said low. “Every single female in town notices him.”

Jessica raised a hand and nudged back a few strands of her auburn hair. Him, she assumed, was the sheriff.

“But don’t get your hopes up. He’s a widower, and not looking.”

“Oh, that wasn’t—”

Cory pushed to a stand before Jessica could explain that she wasn’t interested. Better for Cory to think she was as attracted to the sheriff as every other female. She couldn’t have explained that she’d been like a runaway bride. What would she say? I’m on the run. Hiding from my family. Don’t tell the sheriff. As much as Jessica liked Cory, she couldn’t trust her with that secret. “I feel as if I’m on his wanted list,” she said, aware of his unwavering stare on her.

Cory laughed, but a speculative tone colored her voice. “He is giving you a lot of attention.”

Too much, Jessica thought. She frowned at the broken plate on the floor before her. She would rouse his suspicions if she didn’t stop acting so nervous.

There was no real reason for it. Neither her mother nor her grandfather would have notified Willow Springs or any other Nevada police or sheriff departments that she was missing. Her mother’s grand sense of propriety demanded a more discreet method for finding her daughter, like a private investigator.

While Jessica gathered the last of the large pieces of broken plates and cups, the diner’s dishwasher mopped up the slivers of glass. Jessica thanked him, then hurried behind the counter. Nearby Herb glared. How much would he deduct from her pay for that accident? She needed every penny. For someone who’d never worried about money before, she’d become obsessed with the lack of it lately.

Plastering a smile to her face, she scribbled a customer’s order for blueberry pancakes on a ticket. He was a local delivery man, and he’d flirted earlier with her until Cory had commented about his wife and baby girl. Now he halfheartedly smiled, then buried his face in his newspaper. She wished another man would follow suit and not give her so much attention.

Sam considered it part of his job as sheriff to learn about anyone new in town.

Any stranger would have aroused his curiosity. That sounded like a reasonable excuse for keeping an eye on the new waitress at Herb’s Diner as she scurried from the cook’s station with several plates of pancakes.

But Sam rarely lied to himself. His curiosity about a stranger only partially accounted for his interest in her. True, she looked out of place. Too classy-looking even in the brand-new jeans, snow-white sneakers, and the diner’s only concession to a uniform, a blue polo shirt.

She was a leggy woman with shiny auburn-colored hair caught back at the nape of the neck and held in place by a giant gold clip. She had an oval face, soft blue eyes, a straight nose, and a generous mouth. Plain and simple, the woman was a knockout.

Distracted by male voices raised in disagreement, he observed Morly Wells, sitting at a nearby table. A day didn’t pass without an argument about something between the retired postal worker and his best friend, Lloyd Guthrie. Sam listened for a moment to them, then shot a look at the clock on the wall above the counter. The girls were late. He thought about a half-finished quarterly statement on his desk that was due in the mayor’s office by the end of the week. He should be thinking about budgets and requisitions.

He would have been, but he looked up from the menu and saw Jessica Scott smile. Not at him, but an old-timer at the counter. Something slow moved through him. He was surprised by it though he shouldn’t have been. He’d always been a sucker for a sunshiny smile. But a long time had passed since a woman had really captured his interest. Not since a year and a half ago—when his wife had died.

The clatter of silverware on the floor made him look again in the direction of Herb’s new server. The woman had her problems. He saw her picking up the cutlery she’d dropped. While she walked with finishing school grace, she bordered on klutzy. She stopped before Morly to fill his coffee cup, and knocked over a glass of water. Morly jumped back before he wore it. She won’t last a week, Sam decided.

Crouching, Jessica gathered the silverware and dumped it on a tray. As she expected, she received the dishwasher’s glare. When had she gotten so clumsy, she wondered?

On a sigh, she turned around. Unable to put off the inevitable, she drew a deep breath and headed toward the first booth in her station, toward Sam Dawson.

“I see you got the job.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured. Close up, Thunder Lake’s sheriff was something, with his sun-streaked brown hair. Faint lines crinkled from the corners of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

Again that deep, no-nonsense voice floated on the air. “Herb said you were here at daybreak.”

So he’d asked Herb about her. Her stomach clenched. “Yes.”

“Have you decided to stay?”

“I’m not sure.” Tensing, she tightened her grip on the pencil in her hand. She needed to be friendly, she reminded herself. “The people I’ve met have been really nice.”

“We try to be.”

Honest to the core about her feelings, she acknowledged the quickening of her pulse had as much to do with a male-female tug as nervousness. He unsettled her. He made her aware. All good reasons to keep her distance. “Would you like coffee?”

“Dying for one. My dispatcher at the office makes it so strong it tastes like motor oil.”

Breathe, Jessica, she berated herself. “We have good coffee here.” He knows that, Jessica. He’s a regular at the diner. “Guess you’ve had plenty of it.”

“Yeah, I have.” He presented a warm smile, a knock-your-socks-off smile, the kind meant to tingle a woman all the way down to her toes.

“Do you want to order now, too?”

“No, I’m waiting for others.”

She noticed he’d glanced at her left hand. For what? A wedding band?

“Have you been a waitress long?”

She lifted the water glass in front of him. “Oh, sure, for ages and ages.”

“That’s mine.”

Jessica stilled. “What?”

“That was my water glass.” He looked at it, then up at her and grinned. “But you can have it.”

She heard a hint of humor in his voice. Why? What was so funny? Frowning, she looked down. She didn’t need to see herself. She felt the warmth of a blush sweep over her face as she stared at the finger she’d stuck inside his glass. Silently she groaned. When she’d reached for the glass, she’d been thinking more about the gaze on her than what she was doing. What a dumb thing to do. “I’m sorry.” She shot a look at Herb, then back at him. “I’ll get you another glass.” She spoke lightly, even flashed a smile, hoped she sounded relaxed. “And your coffee.”

The sounds of two men engaged in a friendly dispute about what teams would play in the World Series this year made him look away. She used that moment to escape. She needed to stop acting so jittery. If he knew who she really was, he would have said something, wouldn’t he?

“I told you this might not work,” Herb said suddenly, falling in step beside her.

Was he already going to fire her? She wouldn’t blame him if he did. She’d dropped several orders of ham and eggs earlier that morning, nearly spilled water on a customer’s lap, and probably had caused a shortage of silverware during the diner’s busiest hour, sending all that had tumbled to the floor back to the dishwasher. “I’ll do better,” Jessica promised.

She wished the day was over.

She waited until he walked away, then snatched up the Tabasco bottle. On her way to the customer, unwittingly her gaze locked with the sheriff’s. Sympathy darkened his blue eyes. He knew just as Herb and anyone else did that she had no experience. Well, she wasn’t doing this by choice. She’d been forced into this situation.

Her mother had announced that she’d found her daughter’s perfect match in a handsome, dark-haired male named Ryan Noble. Furthermore, Jessica’s grandfather had raved about Ryan, his Golden Boy, the company’s most promising associate, and Jessica assumed she’d never convince them that their choice wasn’t hers.

All her life she’d tried to please her mother and her grandfather, done everything they’d ever asked her to do. When she declared she wouldn’t marry Ryan, an argument had ensued.

Her mother had delivered a steely command. “Ryan Noble is your grandfather’s choice. So he’ll be yours. Now, you need to meet with him, get to know him better, and stop this nonsense.”

Jessica had said no more. She hadn’t needed to race down the aisle of the church with the long train of her bridal gown trailing her. No wedding plans existed yet, and she’d vowed there’d be none.

She’d left the room, climbed the stairs to her bedroom, and packed a bag. After everyone went to bed, she’d left a note, saying she’d call shortly.

For the first time in her life, Jessica Walker, heiress to the Walker fortune, did more than balk at doing what her family wanted. She’d fled.

With a few dollars and her credit cards in her shoulder bag, she’d expected to be on a minivacation. After spending a few weeks away, she would call home. By then, her family would realize she was serious about not marrying Ryan.

But her plan had crumbled swiftly. Within two days of leaving the family mansion, she’d had to stop using credit cards for rooms and gas when she realized the receipts were traceable.

While in another town, she’d learned that money, something she’d never worried about, was no longer available to her. A trip to a local bank revealed her lack of funds. She’d planned to withdraw a sufficient amount of money, so she wouldn’t have to use her credit card. She discovered her account was closed. Usually only the IRS could close someone’s bank account, but this one had been opened by her mother when Jessica was still a minor, and all it had taken was Deidre Walker’s signature to close it.

Jessica realized then how serious her family was about her marriage to Ryan. A stubborn streak she hadn’t even been aware she possessed had flared. She wasn’t giving in to their demand. Call her a romantic, but she wanted that happily-ever-after marriage with a man she truly loved. So until she believed her family had accepted her decision, she was on her own.

And not doing well, she reluctantly admitted.

Chapter Three

At the ring of the bell above the door, Jessica looked up from pouring the sheriff’s coffee. An ample-hipped, gray-haired woman and two fair-haired minxes rushed in. Jessica smiled at the sight of the green baseball cap propped on the head of the little blonde.

“Daddy,” the one with soft brown hair yelled.

Both girls raced from the door ahead of the woman.

With the cup in her hand, Jessica scanned the restaurant for the face of a proud-looking papa. In midstride, she stilled as the two flew to the sheriff’s side.

Rapid-fire, they rambled at him. “Amanda is always coloring outside the lines,” the youngest was saying in a tone meant to indicate that that was the ultimate no-no. Smiling at her, her daddy lifted the cap from his daughter’s head and set it on the booth seat beside him.

Jessica couldn’t help smiling. The girls were absolutely adorable.

And motherless.

She recalled that Cory had said he was a widower, and she felt a tug on her heart. You’re too sensitive, Jessica, her mother had often said. Jessica hadn’t thought that was such a terrible trait. She’d admit to having a weakness for children and loved being around them. So what was wrong with that?

She looked forward to having her own some day, and their father would be a man she loved, she reminded herself. That’s why she was going through all this. So her family realized that she would accept nothing less.

After she delivered the sheriff’s coffee and a hot tea for the woman and chocolate milk for the girls, a brief lunch rush kept her busy. When she looked in the sheriff’s direction again, she saw that he’d left his booth to talk to a man sitting at the counter.

Jessica turned in an order for a cheeseburger and fries. Unable to resist, she moseyed over to his daughters. She said hi, but the elderly woman seated in the booth across from the girls was the one who snagged her attention. She looked pale, and beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

The woman sent Jessica a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

She definitely didn’t look fine.

“Mrs. Mulvane, are you sick?” the oldest girl asked with wide eyes.

“I have this terrible heartburn,” the woman was saying. She ran a hand down her throat as if she could ease away the discomfort by touch.

Jessica managed to veil her concern behind a sympathetic smile, then did an about-face. In a few strides, she weaved her way to the sheriff. The idea of not interrupting was never an option. She laid a hand on his forearm to get his attention. When he faced her, momentary puzzlement touched his eyes. “Sheriff, I think the lady with your daughters is having a heart attack.”

To his credit, he didn’t hesitate longer than a second. “Take my girls to another booth,” he demanded, already on his way to them.

Only a step behind him, Jessica hustled the girls from their seats while he bent over the woman. She ushered them with their drinks to a booth at the back of the diner, then blocked their view of the action near the door. “What are your names?”

“I’m Annie,” the oldest said. “And this is my sister Casey. I’m six. And she’s four. Who are you?”

“I’m Jessica.”

“Can I call you Jesse?” the younger one asked.

Jesse. She liked the sound of the name. Different life. Different name. Already Cory had shortened her name to Jess. Why not Jesse? “I’d like that,” she said to the little one, and worked to keep them preoccupied enough so they didn’t see everyone assisting the woman. “Are you ladies here with your husbands?” she asked, directing her question to Annie who bubbled cheerily and nonstop about everything.

With her question, Casey leaned her blond head close to her sister’s darker one and giggled behind her hand.

“We don’t have husbands,” Annie said. “We’ve got our daddy.” Pride filled her voice. “He’s the sheriff. That’s an important job.”

Slurping on her straw, Casey craned her neck to see around Jessica. “Uh-huh.”

Annie went on, “I go to school. My teacher’s name is Mrs. Hooper. Next year I get Mrs. Bowcott. I had chicken pox, a mild case, the nurse told my daddy. But I had funny spots all over.”

“Polka dots,” Casey said and giggled again.

Jessica smiled along with them. They looked so much alike. Though Casey was a blonde and Annie had brown hair with blond streaks, they had similar heart-shaped faces, pouty mouths, pert noses and large blue eyes.

“Our mommy is in heaven,” Annie announced.

Looking solemn, Casey nodded her head.

Jessica studied them both for a long moment, saw no painful grief in their eyes, but was at a loss about what to say. Their daddy unknowingly saved her.

With his approach, Casey jumped from the chair and rushed to him. “Is Mrs. Mulvane sick?” she asked while he lifted her up.

Annie offered her opinion. “Daddy, Mrs. Mulvane looked bad.”

Casey nodded. “Real bad.”

In a reassuring gesture, he ran a large hand over Annie’s head. “The doctors will take good care of her.” His eyes shifted from her to Jessica. “Thanks for helping.”

“You’re welcome.” Assuming they’d have plenty of questions for him, she scooted out of the booth so he could slide in. “I’m glad I could help.” On that note, she hurried away. Being with his children was one thing, spending any time with him undoubtedly would prove as nerve-wracking as before. She returned to the cook’s counter, expecting Herb’s censure for sitting so long with them, but he said nothing.

“What you did was nice,” Cory whispered when standing beside her and waiting for orders. “In a small town, people help each other without being asked. You aren’t as much of a newcomer now.”

Jessica warmed. Though she doubted that even her new status would help her keep her job, she learned she’d scored a few points with Herb.

And with two little girls. Before they left, they raced to her with thank-yous that had her smiling most of the afternoon.

A reality check hit at three o’clock. Ready to leave, she stood in the employee break room, thinking about where she could go for the night. She didn’t even have a car to sleep in.

She counted her tips and closed her eyes. Her net worth was twenty-one dollars and thirty-five cents. So now what? Before leaving the motel this morning, she’d paid for last night’s room with most of her cash. She had no other resources since her bank account was frozen. She’d have to sleep under the stars until she got her paycheck at the end of the week—if she lasted that long.

“You did a good thing with Sam’s girls today,” a voice said behind her.

She slanted a look over her shoulder at Herb and responded with a smile, truly pleased by his words.

“Want to work extra hours?”

Jessica had learned that the dinner shift belonged to the most experienced waitresses and meant the best tips. He was obviously in a bind or he wouldn’t have asked her to stay. Grateful for a chance to earn more money, maybe enough to pay for a motel room tonight, she didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I do.”

“Okay.” That was all he said before leaving her.

A moment later, Cory peeked in. “Chloe didn’t show,” she said about another waitress. “If you have any questions about the dinner menu, ask me.”

By six-thirty the diner was full with dinner customers. So far she’d kept pace with her orders. Well, almost. Herb picked up two customers. Cory, who was working overtime to make extra money for her wedding, took another one. Pleased with how well she’d been doing might have been part of her downfall, Jessica later decided.

Standing in the aisle, she lowered a plate in front of a balding man in a suit. She heard movement behind her and assumed the customer in the next booth was leaving. “Here you are, ma’am,” she said to the balding man’s companion.

Behind her, a male voice bellowed to someone at the door. “Hey, Marv.” At the same moment that Jessica’s hand moved down, the man rushed by.

Everything that followed seemed to happen in slow motion. When he hit her elbow, her arm jerked forward. She watched the plate of spaghetti flip out of her hand. The noodles flew from it, plopped onto the table and slid onto the woman’s lap.

Jessica moaned.

The woman squeaked.

Unaware, the man who’d bumped her elbow merrily went out the door with his friend Marv.

Feet away, Herb was scowling. Jessica expected his words seconds later. “I’m sorry, I can’t afford to keep you,” he said, sounding as if he meant that. “But you’re a walking disaster. Do you know who’s wearing our marinara sauce?”

Jessica shook her head.

“The mayor’s wife,” Herb told her, and turned away, shaking his head.

Jessica grimaced and headed for the break room to get her suitcase. She saw no point in trying to persuade him to let her stay.

With plates to deliver lining her arm, Cory stepped into her path. “Hon, I’ll call you later.”

Another problem, Jessica mused. If Cory called the motel, she’d learn she wasn’t there anymore. She faced Cory with a brave face, not wanting her to know how devastated she was. “No. I might change motels.” Quickly she made a promise. “But I’ll keep in touch.”

“Okay, but don’t worry,” she said, closing inches so their shoulders touched. “There are plenty of jobs around town.”

Jessica drummed up a smile. She was no more qualified for any other job than she’d been for this one. “Yes, I’m sure there are.”

She hadn’t thought the situation could get worse. She’d been wrong. She had no job now, and no place to stay.

Stepping out the back door, she stopped at the wood bench outside Lloyd’s Barbershop, the store to the right of the diner. She yanked the clip out of her hair. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t squelch the tears. Her throat tightened and her eyes smarted. She’d been so sure she could stand on her own, so sure that once she’d taken this stance against marriage to Ryan Noble that her family would acquiesce. But nothing was going as she planned. Nothing.

Cooking a meal was the last thing on Sam’s mind tonight. He didn’t mind cooking, but he hated thinking about what to cook night after night. More often than not, he gave in to his daughters’ pleas for their favorite food, pizza, so he figured a hamburger at Herb’s ranked a close second to a home-cooked meal.

The afternoon had proved long and tense. Not wanting Arlene to be alone, he’d left the girls at the office in the trustworthy hands of Trudy, his assistant and dispatcher, and his girls’ great-aunt, then he’d gone to the hospital. While there, he’d contacted Arlene’s son in Reno, and a daughter who lived in Fallon, and told them the doctor was keeping their mother in the hospital for observation. He offered reassurances that she was doing fine.

He wasn’t.

Sheriff Sam Dawson no longer had a nanny for his daughters. Weary from the events of the day, he wished for a simple answer to his problem, for a way to manage until he found someone to stay with the girls.

A dull headache promised to strengthen if he didn’t pop in a few painkillers soon. While he drove with the girls toward the diner for dinner, they’d grown quiet again. He didn’t think they were fretting. Earlier, when he’d returned to the office, he’d been met by gloomy faces and their concern for Arlene. Sam had quieted their distress, and worked hard to stir their smiles while they’d settled in the vehicle and fastened seat belts.

Now Annie seemed engrossed in a new book, and Casey was humming to her stuffed dog.

They seemed okay. But what did he know? He was never sure if he was doing the right thing. Being a single dad was tough. He’d never expected to be one, to raise the girls alone. Life without Christina had been difficult, harder than he’d ever imagined. He should have known, expected that. She’d made a difference in his life. She’d come into it when he’d needed someone the most.

She’d been his life, and when she’d died, so had he. For weeks nothing had mattered. He’d been so damn selfish. He’d been thinking only about himself, his pain. Back then, pressure had crowded his throat daily. It was the girls who’d saved him.

They’d given him only a little time to grieve. He’d wanted more. He’d wanted to wallow in self-pity, to let grief crush down on him. But how could he? Life kept intruding. One of them needed new shoes or had a dentist appointment. There were new books to read, a carnival in town, a birthday, Christmas.

His daughters wouldn’t let him bury himself in his misery. So he put on a good show. He smiled and laughed because of them. It was his way of telling them everything would be okay, even though it wasn’t.

Then during the past months, the terrible ache that had rooted itself within him no longer attacked him with his every breath. Time healed pain. With good intentions, everyone had said that would happen. He hadn’t believed them, hadn’t believed any woman would reach inside him again, would make him smile. Or love again.

In the rearview mirror, he saw Annie look up from her book. “Isn’t she pretty, Daddy?”

He assumed she was talking about some picture in the book.

“And nice,” she went on.

“Who?”

“Jesse.”

A dimpled smile came to mind. So did shapely legs.

“I like her,” Casey announced.

That was a remarkable feat. Casey was stingy with her approvals.

“Do you like her?” she asked.

Like? Maybe. Desire, absolutely. And he wasn’t thrilled about that. It was dumb thinking, he berated himself. He hardly knew her.

“I want a hamburger,” Annie informed him.

Sam zipped into the parking lot adjacent to the diner.

“Can I have one?”

“Me, too,” Casey piped in.

“Sure.” He switched off the ignition, watched the girls bound out of their sport utility vehicle. They looked more eager than usual about going into the diner. That made him edgy, especially since Annie’s comments about Jessica Scott.

Previously he’d learned from Arlene that his two angels thought they needed a mommy, and their daddy had been too busy to find them one. The truth was he hadn’t been looking. He’d had the love of his life. He truly believed a man didn’t get that gift twice.

“Daddy, look.” Annie pointed in the direction of the bench near Herb’s. “There’s Jesse.”

Sam rounded the front of the vehicle to see them racing toward her and calling her name. “Jesse, Jesse.”

He thought she looked tired, but she sat with her back straight as if she was balancing a book on her head. The orange glow of sunset caressed her glossy hair. Hanging loose now, it fell to her shoulders.

From a distance, her smile looked weak. In what seemed like an affectionate gesture, she touched his daughter’s shoulder. Closer now, Sam noted the suitcase at her feet, and guessed Thunder Lake’s newest resident had a problem. “Hi.”

A moment passed before she looked up, swung pale, watery eyes toward him.

Tears. Things had gone from bad to worse for her, Sam deduced. His natural instinct with someone he knew would have been to offer a comforting shoulder. But this woman was a stranger. “Annie, take Casey and go in. Get us a booth.”

Nothing was simple with Annie. She liked schedules and predictability. Any deviation from what she expected made her ask a dozen questions. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

A frown grabbed hold on her face. “Where should we sit? What if there aren’t any empty tables?”

Here goes, he thought. “Sit in any booth.” The parking lot wasn’t full, so he doubted they’d have a problem finding one. “And both of you can have a soda tonight,” he said, knowing that treat would hurry them into the diner.

They rewarded him with pleased smiles and took off.

Sam focused on her again. “I usually force milk on them,” he said lightly to gauge her mood, determine how down she was.

Though she looked tired and worried, a slim smile lit her face.

“I thought you’d want to know what happened with Arlene, Mrs. Mulvane,” he said while he sat on the bench beside her. “She got to the hospital in time.”

“Oh, I’m so glad.”

“The doctor said she’ll be fine. Thanks to you. Arlene said she would have never thought she was having a heart attack, she would have written off the pain as heartburn. The doctor said she’d have suffered a lot of heart damage if she hadn’t gotten to the hospital when she did. Because of you, she didn’t.”

“I really didn’t do anything. You did.” A flush that made her look younger had swept over her face. “But I’m glad everything worked out for her.”

“Me, too. She’s a nice woman.” As she smiled again, Sam tapped the bottom of her suitcase with the toe of his boot. Not getting involved never entered his mind. This went beyond an obligation to his job. She looked so damn lost, so vulnerable sitting there. “You have a problem?”

In a resigned more than a helpless gesture, she shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

He didn’t believe her for a moment. Whether or not she liked it, he couldn’t accept her simple answer. He was used to sticking his nose in others’ business. “You had a tough day today. You never waited on tables before, did you?”

A throaty soft laugh answered him. “That’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Sam stared at her lips and felt an uncharacteristic impatience. “You try hard.”

She looked less tense, less annoyed. “That was nice. Thank you.”

“But that didn’t help, did it?”

She shook her head. “’Fraid not.” As a breeze whipped around her and tossed her hair, she raised a hand to brush back strands.

Sam saw no point in beating around the bush. “Did Herb fire you?”

As if sensing it was pointless to pretend she had no problem, she admitted, “Yes, I don’t have a job anymore, but I can’t blame Herb. I dumped spaghetti on the lap of the mayor’s wife.”

Despite the seriousness of her personal dilemma, a laugh tickled Sam’s throat. He would have loved to have seen that. Eunice Wilson was big on herself—too big. In her opinion, her husband’s political office had made her one of Thunder Lake’s most prestigious citizens. “What are you going to do now?”

When her eyes darted to him, he swore he saw panic in them. Hell, he’d been a cop too long. Shyness probably accounted for her quick looks away.

“I’m not sure.” Head down, in what he interpreted as a small show of nerves, she fiddled with the strap of her shoulder bag. “Tomorrow I’ll look for another job. Cory thought I’d find one without any trouble.”

He gave her credit. She hung onto that bright smile as if her life depended on it.

“And if I don’t find one here, I’ll go somewhere else.” She should have stopped then, but she rushed more words. To Sam, it was a sure sign she was nervous, maybe hiding something. “I like to travel, so I move around a lot.”

“Jesse. Jesse,” Annie yelled as she charged out of the diner and toward them. “Don’t you work here anymore?” Looking as if the world’s worries rested on her shoulders, she braked a few inches from them.

The smile she gave his daughter was meant to soothe. “No, I don’t.” Annie swung a distressed look from him to her. Obviously seeing it, too, she offered an excuse to ease away his daughter’s concern. “But it’s all right. I wanted to look for a different job anyway.”

When her hand fluttered to the handle of her suitcase, Sam couldn’t help wondering if all that she owned was in it.

“You did!” Delight sparkled in Annie’s eyes. “That’s good!”

Sam came to attention. What was happening here?

Looking as if she’d burst with joy, Annie bounced in place. “Daddy has a job for you, don’t you, Daddy?” There was no stopping her now. In the same breath, she declared, “Daddy’s looking for a mommy. He could give you a job.”

“A nanny.” Sam wondered when he’d lost control of the moment. “What she meant is I need a nanny, not a mommy.” Actually, seeing his daughter’s cheery, satisfied grin, he wasn’t sure what she meant.

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