Tara Taylor Quinn - White Picket Fences

“You do?” Becca couldn’t quite keep the excitement out of her voice, but Randi gave her full marks for effort. “Who with?”

“Zack Foster. He’s the new partner at the veterinary clinic.”

“Oh?”

Randi almost smiled at the eagerness her sister-in-law was trying so hard to conceal. Except that she felt so miserable, smiling wasn’t currently an option. “I can’t go,” she muttered.

“Why not?” There was curiosity and concern in Becca’s voice.

“I don’t know,” Randi admitted. “I’ve only met the man once, and he…he scares me.”

“Zack? I’ve only seen him a couple of times and he’s big, I’ll grant you. But a teddy bear.”

“It’s not that Zack scares me, exactly,” she said, staring down at the logo on her shoe. “When I was sitting in his office yesterday, it was almost like I’d been hypnotized. I was practically ready to agree to anything he said. It was the oddest sensation….”

Dear Reader,

I’m really glad you’ve decided to join me here in Shelter Valley. I’ve been visiting this town on and off for a while now, and I find it harder and harder to leave each time I have to return to my “other” world. There’s so much going on here—so many great people, so many stories to tell….

Like the story of Randi Parsons and Zack Foster. Now, here are two interesting people. They’re both attractive, successful, honest and hardworking—and they’re both living at home at a time when they should be starting families. Because underneath all the smiles they have scars no one else can see. They touched me, I think, because they’re like a lot of us who put on our smiles to face the world when deep inside there’s pain most people never know about. Pain that sometimes attacks us in the middle of our busy days with no warning at all. Pain brought on by seemingly inconsequential things—a song on the radio, a phrase someone uses, a person who looks like someone we once knew.

I admire Randi in particular because she won’t compromise who she is, even when that person won’t fit the stereotypes people expect her to fit. She’d rather be alone—forcing herself to be happy—than lose the person who lives inside her. She makes no apologies for her differences, while accepting extreme differences in those around her. She’s a fighter. And a dreamer. A difficult combination. But a great one, too.

And Zack…well, I’m pretty certain he’ll make your heart beat faster if nothing else. He’s my idea of a hero. He’s sexy, athletic, logical, capable and he has a huge heart. Many parts of my own true-life hero slipped in here when I wasn’t looking.

So…enjoy. And don’t worry. I’ve so enjoyed my time in Shelter Valley that I’m coming back soon! I hope you will, too.

Tara Taylor Quinn

I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at: P.O. Box 15065, Scottsdale, Arizona 85267-5065 or online at http://www.inficad.com/~ttquinn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thanks to the faculty and staff in the men’s and women’s athletic departments at Scottsdale Community College, Scottsdale, Arizona. Any accurate portrayals of life in the academic sports world must be attributed to them.

Any mistakes are my own.

For my mother, Penny Gumser,

who gave me life.

And for my editor, Paula Eykelhof,

who brings my dreams to life.

I couldn’t have done this without either one of you.

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

EPILOGUE

SOMETHING WAS MISSING.

Trailing through her house, leaving lights on in her wake, Miranda Parsons frowned. Why did she have this odd empty feeling?

She’d painted her living room last summer; she’d bought a luscious daybed ensemble with matching everything for her spare bedroom over Thanksgiving. And now, during Christmas break, she’d given the kitchen a coat of yellow paint, papered the wall in the breakfast alcove with wildflowers and hung curtains.

Her little house was finally done as she’d envisioned when she’d bought it eighteen months before. She should be feeling satisfied. Complete.

Making her way down the hall, she scrutinized the master bedroom and en suite bathroom carefully for anything amiss. The maroon comforter and pillow shams, the plush towels in the bathroom, the hand-woven tapestry rug on the bedroom floor were all as they should be. As she wanted them.

She loved this house.

So what was missing?

It was Tuesday morning, the second of January. She had another week off before she had to report back to school, once again taking up her position as women’s athletic director at the university. Though she’d been hoping to get to Phoenix for several rounds of golf with some friends, it was equally important to make sure her living space was just right. She could do more here if she needed to.

If only the place would speak up, tell her what to do. There certainly wasn’t anyone else here to give her any suggestions.

Randi wandered outside. Shelter Valley’s blue skies and sunshine she took for granted, though she loved them, too. Even a temperature of 65 degrees in January was a given. The tiny patch of grass in her front yard was as green and verdant as it should be. The stucco finish on the house looked great.

Sitting on the boulder in her front yard—a costly bit of landscaping she was very happy with—Randi folded her arms and surveyed her property. Yep. She was still certain the place suited her.

So why in hell didn’t she feel complete?

She could get a pet. Except that she thought they were mostly nuisances.

Or a roommate. Yuck.

Maybe she needed Surround Sound. She was no electrician, but surely one of her brothers could be prevailed upon for his expertise. There had to be some benefit in putting up with the four of them.

Will was out—he was too busy being important at the university. And spending every spare minute of his life with his adorable baby girl.

Randi was spending a lot of spare minutes with the little miracle herself.

So maybe Paul could help her. He’d rewired his attic a few years ago. Surround Sound might be just the ticket.

Except she didn’t really want it. She was perfectly happy with her stereo system. She had digital cable television, too.

Her neighbor passed by, walking her dog. The little thing peed on the edge of Randi’s fertilized grass.

Maybe she needed a fence.

Yeah.

Looking around the perimeter of her front yard, noticing how it ran right off to the sidewalk without so much as a by-your-leave, she nodded. That was it. When she was growing up, she’d always had this image of a home with a picket fence. Probably got it from watching too many reruns of The Donna Reed Show or Leave It to Beaver.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Randi slid off her boulder and went back inside. Thank goodness that was settled. She probably didn’t have time this break to install a fence, which was fine with her; she could go to Phoenix and play as good a round of golf as she was still capable of playing.

But come spring break, she’d get this done.