Brett Page 19

  Brett felt the stirrings of an old prejudice and quashed them. Putting herself first didn’t make Stephanie selfish or self-centered. It made her whole and independent. It was part of what he loved about her.

  “You are the most important person in my life,” he swore. “You have been since the day we met.”

  In his dreams, words like those led to kisses and warm embraces. Reality didn’t bring the same results. Stephanie’s arms remained firmly crossed.

  “Oh?”

  Who knew one word could hold so much challenge?

  “If that’s true, why did we break up? What happened to us, Brett?”

  “I forgot to cancel our date.” The reason sounded as trivial as he always thought it would, but it was the only one he had. Evidently, there was more because Stephanie waited for him to add something, something that was beyond his grasp. He floundered, unable to find it.

  “That’s why we fought,” she said at last. “That’s not why we broke up. We stopped seeing each other because…” She drew in a breath so deep it seemed to shudder all the way up from her toes. “Remember the day Pat’s Place was robbed?”

  “Remember? How could I forget the day you called it quits?”

  He stared at the tears trailing down her cheeks. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t meant to do it, he’d wounded her. Insight tugged at his consciousness and made him shake his head like a gator trout throwing a hook. He had to tell her he was trying.

  “I’ve changed a lot since then. I took your advice—all of it. I do volunteer work now. Exercise. I gave up the bar scene.” The recitation sounded too much like a job application. He stopped himself. “It’ll take some time, but you’ll see.”

  “But that day,” she breathed. “You stood me up to be with your friends. You didn’t even tell me…”

  The confusion he felt spilled into his voice. “I didn’t tell you…what?”

  “You didn’t tell me you faced down an armed suspect in a robbery. Why didn’t you tell me how close I came to losing you? You told everyone…”

  She waited a beat while Brett’s heart skipped several.

  “…but me.”

  As if it had taken all she had to get the words out, she slumped against the pillar. Her cheeks glistened wetly, and she refused to meet his eyes.

  He had picked up the phone a dozen times that day, but he had never placed the one call that mattered. Now, nothing mattered more than making things right between them. He only knew one way to do that. He prayed it would be enough.

  “Stephanie, honey, I’m sorry. I am so sorry. Except to tell Jake to stop harassing you, I haven’t hung with the guys since that night. I don’t need anyone else in my life. You. You’re all I need. All I ever wanted.”

  She raised her face until her wide blue eyes met his.

  Hope shot through him at the possibility he saw shimmering through her tears. Uncertain whether he could believe it or not, he hesitated. “Stephanie? Honey? Will you give me another chance?”

  Her lips curved up in a tentative smile that hinted at a future of possibilities.

  “Maybe,” she whispered. “If you stop calling me honey.”

  It was such a small thing to give up.

  “The word will never cross my lips again,” he vowed. And this time, he meant it.

  Staring up at him, Stephanie knew that no matter how much he looked like one, Brett was not a god—Greek or otherwise. He was a man, with all the foibles that made him who he was…and she loved him with all her heart. So what if he was so sure of himself it drove her mad? She wouldn’t love him half as much if he were any different. Besides, she also knew that beneath Brett’s proud exterior beat a heart soft enough to admit when he was wrong.

  They could build a life with that.

  The realization of how close they’d come to losing each other propelled her straight into his outstretched arms.

  “I was so scared that I’d lost you,” she whispered. She stood on tiptoe to search his face. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  “Never,” he swore without hesitation.

  One word. Despite the summerlike heat, she’d been cold ever since the day they’d called it quits. Yet with that one word, he had chased away the chill.

  Brett brushed his lips against her hair. “I’ll do anything to keep you. Anything at all. Ask me something I can promise.”

  She knew just the thing. Stephanie pressed close enough to feel the way his heart pounded in his broad chest. “Will you stay with me?” she asked.

  “Forever,” he murmured as she clung to his solid strength. “I’ve got you forever.”

  Though she felt safe in his arms, she had to be sure.

  “And you love me? The way I love you?”

  “With all my life.” A fire that matched her own blazed in his eyes. Swearing he’d never let go, he bent down.

  Anticipation built to a fever pitch within her and Stephanie rose to meet Brett halfway. Full of promise, his lips brushed hers. He tasted of salt and cola, and she opened to him, eager to immerse herself in his kisses and follow wherever that led.

  Behind them, someone coughed.

  Brett stilled. His blue eyes peered down at her. “Why do I have the feeling we’ve got an audience?” he muttered.

  Stephanie stole a quick look past his shoulder. Sure enough, Tom stood a not-so-discreet five feet away with the twins, Brett’s little guys and Mary crowded behind him.

  “Sorry to interrupt, you two,” Tom said with a smug grin. “It’s time for the fishing derby.”

  “Already?” Brett grumbled. He leaned close enough that his breath sent shivers of pleasure rippling through her. “We were just getting started,” he whispered.

  Stephanie smiled up at the face she would never tire of seeing. At their first opportunity, they’d pick up their interrupted kiss where they’d left off, but for now, they both had obligations to fulfill.

  “Looks like we’ll have to finish this later. Think you can handle that?” she asked. Her heart raced at the way his eyes smoldered, promising more. Raining kisses on her cheeks and nose, Brett pulled back.

  “I can handle anything with you beside me.” He pressed her close to his side and swung them around to face the others.

  Tom aimed a thumb toward Mary and the children. “The girls are eager to fish with Unca Brett. So are the boys. Are you ready for this?”

  “I am now,” Brett answered. He aimed an elbow in Tom’s direction while his arm at her waist tightened enough to let Stephanie know he intended to keep her close. “Ready, girls? Ready, boys?” he called to the children.

  “Ready,” four voices chorused in unison.

  “Then let’s go catch us a marlin,” he dared.

  Brett’s touch skimmed from her waist to her fingertips. Folding her hand in his, he led them toward the fishing pier and their future. As they stepped from beneath the shaded pavilion, Stephanie checked the sky for storm clouds, a habit she’d developed since moving to Florida. It looked as if the weatherman had miscalculated again—there was no sign of the predicted thunderstorms. From where she stood, clear skies and bright sunshine stretched all the way to the end of the ocean.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  If you loved Brett, tell a friend about this book and take a few minutes to leave a review!

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  About the Author

  Leigh Duncan is the award-winning author of more than two dozen novels, novellas and short stories. Her first full-length book was published by Harlequin American Romance in 2010. Leigh went on to write seven more books for Harlequin, including the highly acclaimed Glades County Cowboys series, before she began writing the more complex, heart-warming and emotional stories that have resonated with her readers. The lead author for Hallmark Publishing’s new imprint, an Amazon best-selling auth
or and a National Readers’ Choice Award winner, Leigh lives on Central Florida’s East Coast where she writes women’s fiction and contemporary romance with a dash of Southern sass.

  Leigh loves to stay in touch with readers through social media. Find her at http://facebook.com/LeighDuncanBooks, or visit her website at http://leighduncan.com.

  Other Books by Leigh Duncan

  Rodeo Daughter

  His Favorite Cowgirl

  The Rancher’s Lullaby

  A Reason to Remember

  The Billionaire’s Convenient Secret

  The Growing Season

  Pattern of Deceit

  Journey Back to Christmas

  A Country Wedding

  The Orange Blossom Series:

  Butterfly Kisses

  Sweet Dreams

  Broken Road (coming soon!)

  Hometown Heroes Series:

  Luke

  Brett

  Dan

  Travis

  Colt

  Find these and all Leigh’s other books at:

  http://leighduncan.com/books/

  Want the inside scoop on the next book by Leigh Duncan?

  Join my mailing list so you don’t miss release news,fun giveaways, free books and more!

  http://leighduncan.com/newsletter/

  Behind every book is an amazing team.

  Many thanks to those who made Brett possible:

  Cover design:

  Kim Killion

  The Killion Group, Inc.

  Interior formatting:

  Amy Atwell and the Author E.M.S. team

  Proofs:

  Marlene Engel at Precision Revision

  Don’t miss the next book in

  The Hometown Heroes Series…

  Excerpt from

  DAN

  Chapter One

  “I brought ya some coffee, boss.” Sam, On The Fly’s manager, placed a sturdy cardboard cup on the edge of Jess Cofer’s desk. “You got a few minutes before we open up?”

  “Sure.” Jess swallowed back a grimace. An employee who wanted to chat before the first customer walked in could only mean her day was rolling further downhill. A shame, because she usually looked forward to Saturday.

  Most of the time, it meant heading out the door with a fly rod in her hand and a client at her side, but not today.

  Instead, a last-minute cancellation had forced her to take a hard look at the store’s books. She glanced at the tally beneath the expense column and exhaled slowly. Merritt Island’s premier fly fishing shop was in trouble.

  What would Sam do if he learned the shop’s bottom line had taken on water and was headed for the riverbed? Would he quit? Without her most valued employee to run interference with their wealthier, more demanding clientele, she didn’t know what she’d do. Bail, probably. She mustered a wary smile for the man in the doorway.

  “What’s up?” A handful of unruly curls fell across her face. She brushed them aside.

  Sam leaned against the doorjamb. He tapped a rolled-up newspaper against his palm. When he didn’t speak, Jess nodded to the paper.

  “Any good news in there?” she asked.

  The lines around Sam’s watery blue eyes deepened.

  “Prices are up and income is down. Same as usual,” he humphed. His voice dropped until Jess could scarcely hear him.

  “And old man Phelps died,” he murmured. “The paper says he was eighty-six.”

  Jess slowly settled her red pen on top of her scarred oak desk. The coffee she’d sipped rolled uneasily in her stomach.

  “Henry Phelps?”

  At Sam’s nod, she blinked back a mist of tears and rummaged through the desk drawer for a pack of Kleenex. It lay beneath a hank of ginger bucktail left over from a recent fly tying session. She tugged out a tissue and dabbed her eyes.

  “Aw, I shoulda broke the news better.” Floorboards creaked as Sam shifted his weight. He shot a hopeful glance toward the display room. “Want me to leave ya alone, boss?”

  Jess shook her head. “No, I’ll be all right.” Henry had been their first client, and after Tom died, it’d been the Florida native’s idea to preserve Phelps Cove as a memorial to her late husband. They had worked together on the project until the elderly man’s stroke two months ago, but even that hadn’t dimmed his dream. They had talked about it when she’d dropped by the hospital last week. Now, Phelps Cove would make a fitting legacy for both Tom and Henry.

  The thought settled her stomach, and Jess managed a wobbly smile.

  “Henry was a good man. When’s the funeral?”

  Sam shrugged. “Too early for an obit, but there’s a nice write-up on the front page.” He unfurled the paper and pointed with a calloused finger. “All about how he made his fortune. Talks a little bit about Phelps Cove and his involvement with Protect Our Environment.” He looked down, refusing to meet her eyes. “What’s the latest on that?”

  The question threatened to send her stomach back into free fall, but Jess caught herself. At 2.5 million dollars for one hundred acres of prime riverfront, not even the state of Florida would be foolish enough to botch the deal. She shook her head, remembering the time a reporter had shoved a microphone at Henry and demanded he explain his motives for selling the land so far below its market value.

  “How much money does a body need in one lifetime?” Henry had shot back. “I already got me a fortune. This is my chance at history. Phelps Cove’ll be here long after I’m gone.”

  And now he was. Gone. Jess’s shoulders slumped in a world that felt a little emptier.

  At a restless sound from the doorway, she straightened. The funding approval was practically a rubber stamp, according to her counterpart in POE, and he should know. The organization was tasked with establishing protected habitats on state-owned land. She aimed a thumb at a poster on the wall behind her.

  “Henry always said our great-grandkids should see what Florida looked like before the moon race and theme parks brought in tourism.”

  “That niece o’ his might have different plans,” Sam suggested.

  She had nearly forgotten about the woman who, according to Henry, rarely ventured out of New York.

  “Estelle does prefer life in the big city,” she mused. “Henry gave me her number when he flew up for her oldest’s graduation. I think it’s still in my address book. Let me call her. See where things stand.”

  When Sam took that as his cue to escape, Jess wished she could go with him. Henry had referred to his niece as “distant” and “self-serving,” and Jess was pretty sure she wouldn’t like talking to the woman any more than she enjoyed running a business that catered to people who had more money than sense. For the umpteenth time that month, she wondered why she bothered.

  Her gaze drifted from the bills and receipts scattered across her desk to her favorite fly rod, propped in the corner of the tiny office. For the first time since she’d arrived at work that morning, she smiled. Tomorrow was Sunday, the one day of the week On The Fly’s doors remained closed. A day when she could take her favorite fishing buddy on an excursion to Phelps Cove in honor of two special men, his dad and their old friend. Her smile deepened as she picked up the phone.

  A rising tide salted the air. Beyond white sand dunes, the surf roared against the shore. Dan Hamilton eyed the bunched shoulders of the figure ahead of him on the coquina walkway and wondered why the other man was so tense when, by all rights, he should be the nervous one. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t been quite this out of place since the time he’d accepted an invitation to join three of his college pals on a spur-of-the-moment cattle drive. Him, a kid who’d never so much as petted a horse, much less spent two full days in the saddle. But, thanks to a lot of coaching from Luke and Colt, guys who’d grown up on the Circle P, as well as some not-so-gentle ribbing from Travis and Brett, he’d managed to hold his own. He would, this time, too. Even if it was his first night of cards with the big dogs of Brevard County’s medical society. The occasion prompted a critical self-
appraisal and, on the short walk to the converted guesthouse, Dan did just that.

  Manners so well rehearsed anyone would think he’d learned them on his mother’s knee? Check. Bland, Midwestern accent slathered over his native Southern drawl like mayonnaise on a baloney sandwich? Check. The same understated labels his peers at the poker table were sure to wear? Got ’em.

  Satisfied he had ticked off every item with the same careful attention he gave the operating room each time he picked up a scalpel, Dan straightened his shoulders as Bryce Jones III beckoned him into a masculine lair of leather and dark wood. Behind them, the door closed with a swish and a snick, locking out the bright sunshine of a January afternoon on Florida’s east coast. Bryce crossed immediately to a bar so well-stocked it deserved its own liquor license. Crystal glasses clinked softly as they settled onto polished wood while Dan fought the urge to wrinkle his nose at the nutty scent of old cigars that drifted in the chilly air.

  “Take a look. I think you’ll be impressed.”

  Bryce nodded toward walls peppered with land maps and architectural drawings. On a corner table, beneath spotlights, scale-model buildings and statuary were staggered down a slope to a mock river’s edge. A tiny sign read The Aegean.

  “You throwing in the towel and moving to Greece?” Dan asked. Not that he believed for a minute the plastic surgeon would walk away from his high-profile client list.

  “Me?” Bryce chuckled and poured Scotch without asking Dan’s preference. “Nah. You ever been there?”

  “No. Not yet.” Accepting the glass he was handed, Dan shook his head. He’d barely paid off his school loans and started planning for the future. A half-dozen years of post-grad training among the skilled hands and sharp minds at the University of Florida had put him on the fast track to becoming the best thoracic surgeon in the county, maybe in the state. Once he nailed that recognition, he’d have the clout to achieve his most important goal. After that, there’d be time and money for travel, a hobby. Maybe even a date or two.