Charlotte Douglas: Spring In The Valley

All Brynn could think of was how much she was attracted to Rand, from his thick brown hair to the tips of his Gucci loafers

And especially everything in between.

Rand gave her a look that made her suddenly hot. “It’s been such a great day that I don’t want it to end. Come to River Walk with us.”

No way, her mind was screaming, but her reply came from her heart. “I’d love to.”

His face lit up like Fourth of July fireworks, his delight so obvious Brynn had to look away. She restrained herself from beating her hand against the window in frustration. Why hadn’t she just said no?

Because Rand Benedict is a very special man, maybe the one you’ve been looking for all your life, a voice inside her head insisted.

But she hadn’t been looking for a man, not even a special one.

Had she?

Dear Reader,

In the words of an ancient Chinese saying, we live in interesting times. Due to tumultuous world events, we appreciate more than ever security, solace, acceptance and love as bulwarks against the troubles of the day. In my series A PLACE TO CALL HOME, I’ve created a small town in upstate South Carolina, where love and acceptance, along with only occasional mayhem, abound. For the residents of Pleasant Valley, friends are family, and family is everything.

In Spring in the Valley, book three of the series, Officer Brynn Sawyer, one of Pleasant Valley’s finest, finds her heart and values shaken by Yankee stranger Rand Benedict, a lawyer on a secret mission to the South. But Brynn has always given as good as she gets, and Rand soon discovers his life and expectations upended after being ticketed by the curvaceous cop.

I hope you’ll enjoy the romantic skirmish between Brynn and Rand, aided by Rand’s adorable nephew and ward, and as we say in the South, y’all come back and visit Pleasant Valley again early in 2006.

Happy reading!

Spring in the Valley

Charlotte Douglas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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The major passions of Charlotte Douglas’s life are her husband—her high school sweetheart to whom she’s been married for over three decades—and writing compelling stories. A national bestselling author, she enjoys filling her books with love of home and family, special places and happy endings. With their two cairn terriers, she and her husband live most of the year on Florida’s central west coast, but spend the warmer months at their North Carolina mountaintop retreat.

No matter what time of year, readers can reach her at charlottedouglas1@juno.com. She’s always delighted to hear from them.

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

591—IT’S ABOUT TIME

623—BRINGING UP BABY

868—MONTANA MAIL-ORDER WIFE*

961—SURPRISE INHERITANCE

999—DR. WONDERFUL

1027—VERDICT: DADDY

1038—ALMOST HEAVEN†

1049—ONE GOOD MAN†

1061—SPRING IN THE VALLEY†

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

380—DREAM MAKER

434—BEN’S WIFE

482—FIRST-CLASS FATHER

515—A WOMAN OF MYSTERY

536—UNDERCOVER DAD

611—STRANGER IN HIS ARMS*

638—LICENSED TO MARRY

668—MONTANA SECRETS

691—THE BRIDE’S RESCUER

740—THE CHRISTMAS TARGET

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

Epilogue

Officer Brynn Sawyer was definitely out of uniform. At the rate her friends were getting married, she contemplated with a wry chuckle, a bridesmaid’s dress was beginning to feel like her backup wardrobe.

Recalling Jodie Nathan and Jeff Davidson’s wedding earlier that day, she couldn’t help smiling as she drove her SUV down the dark, winding road toward the valley highway. Hours ago, she and a few hundred other guests had given the happy couple a great send-off for their Bermuda honeymoon.

After most of the others had departed the festivities at Archer Farm, Brynn had remained behind to help the staff and clients clean up at the juvenile rehabilitation center that the groom had founded. The teenage boys, most of whom she knew well, both through personal encounters and from memorizing their rap sheets, had had other ideas. Refusing her offers of assistance, they had settled her in a deep chair in front of the great room fireplace, slipped a hassock under her high-heel-clad feet and placed a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. Then, insisting they were used to grunt work, they’d ordered her not to muss her pretty dress. In less than a year, Jeff Davidson and his staff of former Marines had worked miracles with their sixteen at-risk boys.

Contemplating Jeff and Jodie’s well-earned happiness, Brynn drove slowly through the darkness. The only illumination on the narrow road was the high beams, and the only interior light came from the faint glow from the control panel. She briefly fingered a fold of her dress before taking hold of the wheel again. The full-length gown was pretty, as the teens had said, a delicate leaf-green silk, perfect for the first day of spring and new beginnings, and to complement the midnight-blue of her eyes.

“You’re next,” Jodie had declared after Brynn caught the bridal bouquet of apple blossoms, paper-whites and fragrant ivory roses. “Remember the rule of threes. It was Merrilee last year, now me. You’ll be married, too, before you know it.”

Brynn had shaken her head and laughed. At thirty, she had no special man in her life, and certainly not one likely to propose. Steady dating, much less marriage, was the furthest thing from her mind. Although she definitely enjoyed men’s company—most of her fellow officers were male—she didn’t need a man to make her feel complete. She loved her job as a Pleasant Valley police officer and aspired to fill her father’s shoes as chief of police someday when he retired. And the people of the valley were her extended family. What woman could want more?

A blast of frigid wind shook the vehicle. Switching on the windshield wipers, she peered through the first flurries of blowing snow, glad she’d donned her department-issue, down-filled parka over her lightweight dress and changed her high-heeled sandals for waterproof boots before she’d left Archer Farm. The early spring snowstorm had timed its arrival just right—after Jodie’s wedding and reception had ended, thank goodness.

Reassured by the heavy-duty tires and four-wheel drive of her SUV, Brynn eased onto the highway that led through the valley, filled with small farms, to town. If she drove carefully, she’d have no trouble reaching home before heavy snow, which practically never fell in South Carolina, made the roads impassable.

To her right in the darkness, the Piedmont River, already swollen with melting winter snows from the surrounding mountains, paralleled the highway. Her car topped a ridge, and, on her left, lights flickered through the trees in front of Grant and Merrilee Nathan’s home.