Introduction
R ebecca was in Hell .
What other explanation could there be for the reappearance of Mitch in her life when she’d worked so diligently to avoid him for the best part of eighteen hundred and eighteen days—not that she was counting.
The divorce papers sitting on the desk at home were burning a hole through her brain, making her ache with things she dared not admit.
He looked amazing, by far the handsomest man in a room full of fine-looking men. His white dress shirt emphasized the breadth of those impossibly wide shoulders, honed to steel by years of honest manual labor. But then she’d always admired that about him. When his football career had come to an abrupt end he could have turned to a bottle and no one would have faulted him for it. Instead he picked himself up, went to a community college, got his welding ticket, and opened a business. Now his work was often sought after from all over the state and his shop had grown from a backyard garage to a fully equipped warehouse on a prime piece of Tidal Falls land. Mitch Taylor was a local success story.
He grasped her hand and she reluctantly followed his lead across a floor now packed with swaying bodies. He didn’t stop until they reached a shadowed alcove off to one side of the stage. When he turned and held out his arms she stepped forward like a lamb, letting his jacket drop onto a nearby chair. The moment his arms wrapped around her and his calloused fingers found the bare skin of her lower back, Becky knew she was in trouble.
Her startled gaze rushed upward and tangled in the molten heat of his amber eyes. The light and shadows created by their surroundings turned his face lean and mysterious and oh-so-hypnotic. Someone bumped into them but she barely noticed, she was so caught up in his aura. It had been like this before—in Las Vegas.
Rebecca tried to pull away, her heart beating double time, an out-of-sync counterpoint to the drums playing on stage. Mitch simply tugged so that she had to grasp the front of his shirt to keep from falling—not that he would have let her. There were many things about Mitch Taylor that bothered her, but she never doubted his kindness.
He bowed his head and rested his cheek against her temple and his voice rumbled through her soul. “It’s just a dance, sweetheart. What are you afraid of?”
Everything.
Him.
Herself.
Chapter One
W ould this day never end ? Rebecca Sorenson shuffled the papers on her desk and glanced up at the school clock for the tenth time in so many minutes. She had plans, big plans and couldn’t wait to get a start on the weekend.
Tonight was the big night for her best friend, Annie’s, bachelorette celebration. Which is why—Rebecca glanced at the clock again just as the bell rang signaling classes were done—she needed to get going. There was still a ton of last minute preparations before the party.
She hurried to log off the computer, finished stacking her secretarial files, and reached into the bottom drawer for her hobo styled handbag and striped sun hat. Annie made fun of the fact she had to give up two pay-checks to afford her purse with its straw look and leather straps, but hello, Jimmy Choo . She wouldn’t call herself vain exactly, but she definitely preferred good quality whenever she could afford it.
The elementary kids poured out of their classrooms, laughing and talking, not a worry on their sweet minds. Rebecca envied them their youth. Life had a way of bleeding that exuberance away.
Okay, enough with the maudlin shit.
She pasted a smile on her lips and rounded the end of the counter to join the melee heading for the front entrance.
“Bye, Miss Sorenson,” little Jessica Reed sang as she rushed past with a couple of friends in tow.
Becky’s heart pinched. She loved each and every one of the precious little rug-rats. Outside parents stood in friendly groups chatting, some with strollers or fussy preschoolers tugging on their hands. The moment they caught
R ebecca was in Hell .
What other explanation could there be for the reappearance of Mitch in her life when she’d worked so diligently to avoid him for the best part of eighteen hundred and eighteen days—not that she was counting.
The divorce papers sitting on the desk at home were burning a hole through her brain, making her ache with things she dared not admit.
He looked amazing, by far the handsomest man in a room full of fine-looking men. His white dress shirt emphasized the breadth of those impossibly wide shoulders, honed to steel by years of honest manual labor. But then she’d always admired that about him. When his football career had come to an abrupt end he could have turned to a bottle and no one would have faulted him for it. Instead he picked himself up, went to a community college, got his welding ticket, and opened a business. Now his work was often sought after from all over the state and his shop had grown from a backyard garage to a fully equipped warehouse on a prime piece of Tidal Falls land. Mitch Taylor was a local success story.
He grasped her hand and she reluctantly followed his lead across a floor now packed with swaying bodies. He didn’t stop until they reached a shadowed alcove off to one side of the stage. When he turned and held out his arms she stepped forward like a lamb, letting his jacket drop onto a nearby chair. The moment his arms wrapped around her and his calloused fingers found the bare skin of her lower back, Becky knew she was in trouble.
Her startled gaze rushed upward and tangled in the molten heat of his amber eyes. The light and shadows created by their surroundings turned his face lean and mysterious and oh-so-hypnotic. Someone bumped into them but she barely noticed, she was so caught up in his aura. It had been like this before—in Las Vegas.
Rebecca tried to pull away, her heart beating double time, an out-of-sync counterpoint to the drums playing on stage. Mitch simply tugged so that she had to grasp the front of his shirt to keep from falling—not that he would have let her. There were many things about Mitch Taylor that bothered her, but she never doubted his kindness.
He bowed his head and rested his cheek against her temple and his voice rumbled through her soul. “It’s just a dance, sweetheart. What are you afraid of?”
Everything.
Him.
Herself.
Chapter One
W ould this day never end ? Rebecca Sorenson shuffled the papers on her desk and glanced up at the school clock for the tenth time in so many minutes. She had plans, big plans and couldn’t wait to get a start on the weekend.
Tonight was the big night for her best friend, Annie’s, bachelorette celebration. Which is why—Rebecca glanced at the clock again just as the bell rang signaling classes were done—she needed to get going. There was still a ton of last minute preparations before the party.
She hurried to log off the computer, finished stacking her secretarial files, and reached into the bottom drawer for her hobo styled handbag and striped sun hat. Annie made fun of the fact she had to give up two pay-checks to afford her purse with its straw look and leather straps, but hello, Jimmy Choo . She wouldn’t call herself vain exactly, but she definitely preferred good quality whenever she could afford it.
The elementary kids poured out of their classrooms, laughing and talking, not a worry on their sweet minds. Rebecca envied them their youth. Life had a way of bleeding that exuberance away.
Okay, enough with the maudlin shit.
She pasted a smile on her lips and rounded the end of the counter to join the melee heading for the front entrance.
“Bye, Miss Sorenson,” little Jessica Reed sang as she rushed past with a couple of friends in tow.
Becky’s heart pinched. She loved each and every one of the precious little rug-rats. Outside parents stood in friendly groups chatting, some with strollers or fussy preschoolers tugging on their hands. The moment they caught
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