“I can explain everything—eventually.”
“Doesn’t matter, Aaron. We’re too different.”
“I assume you don’t have a problem with my being white.”
“I don’t.”
“Then…”
“We come from such different backgrounds. I don’t have any idea what line of work you were in before you hired on with my crew, but you sure as heck must have made good money to buy the entire twentieth floor of a building.”
“I’m not a drug dealer. You have to believe me, Jennifer. I’d never do anything illegal.”
“I do believe you.”
“Then give me the opportunity to prove myself. Help me, Jenny. Help us. Tell me what to do to win your trust.”
The lump in her throat made swallowing impossible. Trusting Aaron wasn’t the issue.
It was trusting herself…
Dear Reader,
In 1992 America experienced one of its worst riots of the twentieth century, near the intersection of Florence and Normandie in south central Los Angeles. Spurred by the acquittals of most of the policemen accused of beating Rodney King, the riot left fifty-four dead and about $1 billion worth of buildings and merchandise torched or plundered.
As one who watched the horrific images on TV, I assumed that the residents who had suffered through that traumatic event would sell their homes and move to a safer neighborhood. Surprisingly, most of the people there stayed.
The human spirit is an amazing thing. The residents of south central L.A. neighborhoods face challenges unheard of in other communities across America. Yet the media and popular culture have distorted the image of the area, drawing a bleak, despairing picture of the neighborhoods and communities, when in truth, the areas exhibit unique, rich cultural histories that reflect the residents who live there—African-Americans and Latinos. Today, largely due to the pride and determination of their residents, these neighborhoods in south central L.A. once again flourish.
I hope you enjoy Aaron McKade’s story as he experiences this unique area of L.A. and falls in love with a Latino woman, whose spirit of giving inspires him and many others.
I love to hear from readers. Please visit me at www.marinthomas.com or e-mail marin@marinthomas.com.
Happy reading!
Marin
Aaron Under Construction
Marin Thomas
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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To Associate Senior Editor Kathleen Scheibling and Editor Beverley Sotolov.
Thank you for making The McKade Brothers series a reality. Your support is deeply appreciated.
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1024—THE COWBOY AND THE BRIDE
1050—DADDY BY CHOICE
1079—HOMEWARD BOUND
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
What the hell am I doing here?
If his grandfather hadn’t lost his mind, Aaron McKade wouldn’t be stuck in Monday-morning bumper-to-bumper Los Angeles traffic. Instead, he’d be managing the West Coast branch of the family business—McKade Import-Export, an office that served as an agent for companies seeking Latin American markets for their products.
Perturbed with the recent turn of events in his life, he clenched his jaw and studied his surroundings—his new place of work. Santa Angelita, the South Central Los Angeles barrio, was worlds away from the affluent Bunker Hill District where he lived in the famous Bradshaw Building.
Rows of Spanish-style stucco houses painted in vivid blues, greens and purples lined the side streets, giving the residential area energy…hope. A few homes showed off neatly trimmed lawns and masses of fuchsia bougainvillea, but most of the dwellings required major renovations—and some even a wrecking ball. Sensible compacts or junkers sat parked in one-car-garage driveways. The BMWs and Lincoln Navigators of the drug dealers were nonexistent, and the small bikes and toys cluttering the yards suggested more and more young families were moving into the barrio.
The commercial boulevards, on the other hand, struggled to survive. Boarded-up buildings covered in colorful murals depicting religious scenes and festive celebrations, along with vacant lots, broke the line of nail-care salons, auto parts shops and storefront churches comprising the core of the business district. He hadn’t seen one chain supermarket or drugstore in the past eight blocks, only liquor depots and a mom-and-pop market.
The light switched to green, but traffic remained at a standstill while commuters boarded a city bus a block ahead.
What had Pop been thinking? Aaron loved his grandfather more than anything, but now wondered if dementia had finally gotten the best of the old man. Patrick McKade had dropped a bomb during last week’s phone chat. The conversation had switched from the Yankees spring-training schedule to a more alarming topic. “Aaron, I neglected to teach you a very important lesson—responsibility,” his grandfather had said.
Responsibility. The word made Aaron shudder.
“Son, it’s my fault that you’re immature. I should have demanded more from you.”
Aaron’s gut had tightened with humiliation, hurt and resentment. Immature? He was thirty-three years old!
The bus pulled away from the curb, belching black exhaust. Traffic inched forward as Aaron studied the map spread across his lap. Riker Avenue had to be somewhere in the vicinity. Frustrated, he shoved the directions aside and glanced up just as a little old lady stepped in front of the truck. He slammed his foot on the brake, wincing when the seatbelt bit into his shoulder. The front bumper stopped a foot from the woman’s wire pull cart.
Pursing her lips, the granny glared at him through the windshield. Aaron unrolled the window and stuck his head out to apologize, but the words froze in his throat when the old biddy flashed her middle finger. Stunned, he watched her baby-step across the street, forcing cars in all lanes to stop for her and the dirty lump of fur curled up at the bottom of the basket.
“You must stand on your own two feet, Aaron, and assume responsibility for yourself and your future.”
First the crazy cart lady, now the voice of his grandfather refusing to get out of his head. What was this—revenge-of-the-geriatric-set day?
“I’ve been too wrapped up in expanding the company all these years, or I would have noticed that your brothers have been picking up the slack for you.”
There were times when Aaron wished with all his heart that his parents and grandmother had survived the private plane crash that had taken their lives when he was a year old. Widowed and burdened with raising three grandsons, Pop never noticed the way Aaron’s brothers lorded over him. In truth, Aaron had become accustomed to allowing his family to influence his decisions, solve his problems and instruct him on what to do and where to go.
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