Jeanie London - Love In Plain Sight

Right in front of her eyes…

Former bounty hunter Marc DiLeo is not the guy social worker Courtney Gerard wants helping her. But finding a kid who’s been missing for a long time takes priority over her personal preferences. And if anyone can locate the child, Marc can—even with his injury. So she’ll overlook his attitude.

As they follow cold leads together, Courtney glimpses beneath his tough exterior to something surprising—caring, compassion…vulnerability. That softer side proves more irresistible than his good looks. An unexpected—and unexpectedly intense—attraction flares between them, making her wonder why she never saw this before. Suddenly the man she was determined to avoid is the only man she wants close!

Marc came face-to-face with Courtney

She stood in the living room, visible through the doorway as he emerged from the steamy bathroom.

Suddenly everything about her was a dare.

From the glossy black hair that would feel like silk to the touch to the clear eyes she raked down the length of him.

He stood wrapped in a towel.

Her gaze traveled the length of him again. There was surprise all over her face, her eyes widening, her lips parting.

But she didn’t look away. She only stood there for a protracted moment, a deer stunned by headlights. And by the time she’d rallied, mumbling something unintelligible and turning away, it was too late.

Marc had seen everything.

This felt normal. A beautiful woman looking at him like he was a man. A woman looking at him with want in her eyes.

Yet she turned away....

Dear Reader,

Life is love. It’s our chronic aspiration and the source of our greatest strength. Love inspires us to courage and moves us past selfishness to kindness and generosity.

Araceli would do anything to have love in her life.

Courtney fought hard to bring love to her foster kids’ lives, but she kept love in the periphery of her own.

Marc had run far away from love and allowed it only an occasional visit. It wasn’t until adversity forced him to stop running that he came face-to-face with how much of himself he had lost along the way.

When love brings these three together, they realize what was right before their eyes all along—with love, they can conquer anything.

Ordinary Women. Extraordinary romance.

That’s what Harlequin Superromance is all about. I hope you enjoy Courtney and Marc’s story. I love hearing from readers, so please visit me at www.jeanielegendre.com.

Peace and blessings,

Jeanie London

Love In Plain Sight

Jeanie London

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jeanie London writes romance because she believes in happily-ever-afters. Not the “love conquers all” kind, but the “we love each other, so we can conquer anything” kind. Jeanie is the winner of many prestigious writing awards, including multiple RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice and National Readers’ Choice Awards. She lives in sunny Florida with her own romance-hero husband, their beautiful daughters and a menagerie of strays.

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To my beloved Pup.

You are a joy! You make life endlessly fascinating with your inspired interests, your enormous heart and your delightful friends! <3 YOU <3

Contents

Prologue

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

Chapter Twenty-Four

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

Before Hurricane Katrina

PAPA ALWAYS SAID love changed lives. I knew what he meant because love was all around me.

Every morning, Mama packed Papa’s lunch. Always the same sandwich, container of leftovers from dinner, fruit and fresh-baked pastry. She stacked them in his lunch bag in the order he would eat them through the day.

A fruit for the morning to keep him healthy.

Leftovers for lunch with the sandwich, too, if he worked really hard. Sometimes he saved half for later.

He ate the pastry with his con leche in the afternoon when he needed a sweet for strength.

In between each layer would be a neatly folded napkin with a love note. One for every meal.

Hecho con amor para ti.

Gracias por nuestra hermosa vida juntos.

The love notes changed every day—all but one that read Te quiero siempre.

Mama did love him always.

She loved all of us. We were her family.

When I was old enough for school, I opened my lunch bag to find my own love notes. Mama would draw little hearts that would make me proud to be the beautiful daughter she loved so much. Or funny faces to make me laugh, because Mama did not have the family talent for drawing.

I never used my love-note napkins but always tucked them into my pocket, a secret reminder of how much I was loved no matter what happened through the rest of the day.

Paolo wasn’t too little to notice. He didn’t say anything because of his speech trouble, but I knew. He was quick-eyed for a little one. Mama counted on those eyes.

“Paolo, where did Mama set her keys?” she would ask. “Paolo, did you see where Mama lay her scissors?”

My baby brother would run right to where she had left whatever was missing.

Paolo wanted his own love notes. I knew because he would stick his chubby hand in my pocket and sneak mine. I told Mama one day, and the very next morning, my baby brother burst from our bedroom as I was readying for school with a love note he’d found under his pillow.

My life was filled with that kind of love. Every night after dinner, my family gathered in the living room. Some nights, I practiced stitches on scraps of fabric while Mama altered clothes to earn money.

Higher hems for the short ladies and expanded seams for the ladies grown too fat for their zippers....

Papa would sit at his easel, telling stories from his day and drawing whatever he thought might sell on weekends when he sat in Jackson Square making caricatures for the tourists.

Weekend after weekend, through the Mardi Gras parades and the steamy days of summer, I would sit beside Papa at my own easel, smelling the Mississippi River, an apprentice practicing my sketches and learning from my beloved Papa.

I loved those weekends.

“You must read your subject to know how to please them,” Papa instructed. “Do not choose a feature they might feel shame for. Choose one that helps them laugh at themselves. Laughter is a gift, and if you please them, they’ll be generous with you. Americans are very generous. They appreciate talent and will reward you for using yours.”

I was eight when I drew my very first sketch.

My subject, an eccentric older lady who wore many big jewels, did laugh when she saw my finished product and gave me ten dollars. I felt such pride.

My second subject wasn’t so pleased. I got a dollar in quarters and not even one tiny smile.