Darlene Gardner - The Hero's Sin

“I don’t normally do this.” Sara seemed to hesitate. “Okay, I never do this. But would you like to come upstairs?”

Michael’s body hardened, his mind leaping ahead to the two of them naked, entwined in her bed. He dropped her hand and stuffed both of his into his pockets. “This isn’t smart, Sara. We just met. You don’t know anything about me.”

She laid a hand against his cheek, her eyes asking him to trust her. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Here was his chance to do the right thing. She thought he was a hero. A hero! It was almost laughable.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. But all he managed to say was “I’m not the man you think I am….”

Dear Reader,

How much stock do we put in the opinions of others? That question led me to write The Hero’s Sin, about a man viewed as anything but a hero.

I got the idea to have a town newcomer, who has no preconceived notion of our antihero, witness him bravely churning through white water to save a boy from drowning. Once unflattering portrayals of him reach her, she has to decide what to believe. Her ears? Her eyes? Or her heart?

The Hero’s Sin is the first of three books set in the fictional Pennsylvania mountain town of Indigo Springs. But the beauty of the countryside, with the dramatic peaks and the tumbling river, is very real.

I hope you enjoy the visit to Indigo Springs as much as I enjoyed creating the town—and the heroine’s dilemma.

All my best,

Darlene Gardner

P.S. Visit me on the Web at www.darlenegardner.com.

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While working as a newspaper sportswriter, Darlene Gardner realized she’d rather make up quotes than rely on an athlete to say something interesting. So she quit her job and concentrated on a fiction career, which landed her at Harlequin/Silhouette Books, where she’s written for the Temptation, Duets and Intimate Moments lines before finding a home at Harlequin Superromance. Please visit Darlene on the Web at www.darlenegardner.com.

To Lisa Dyson, Beth Fedorko and Diane Perkins,

because they’re wonderful

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

M URDERER .

The word resounded in Michael Donahue’s head. It had been years since anyone had hurled the accusation at him but he leveled it at himself every day.

He bent down and picked up a flat rock, throwing it sidearm so it skipped across the shimmering surface of the Lehigh River before disappearing from sight.

That’s what he felt like doing. Disappearing.

He’d come to the river straight from the Philadelphia hotel where he’d been staying since returning from West Africa, so nobody in Indigo Springs had seen him yet. He could get back inside his rental car and put in motion his vague plan to find a quiet place where he could unwind until he heard whether he’d been approved for his next assignment. It didn’t matter where he went, as long as it was far from here.

Except he couldn’t leave until Sunday morning and it was only Friday afternoon. He had a rehearsal dinner and a wedding to get through because he’d given his word to his boyhood friend Johnny Pollock that he’d show. At least Michael had had the foresight not to let Johnny talk him into being best man.

“Best man,” Michael muttered, picking up another rock and chucking it as far as he could.

How ironic was that?

He sat down on one of the large slate rocks that lined the bank of the river, took off his shoes and socks and dangled his feet in the cool water.

He used to come to the river when he was a kid, although Aunt Felicia had probably thought he was off raising hell. She’d had reason. Despite her good intentions, his great-aunt hadn’t been able to handle a teenage boy angry at his mother for dying. Neither could she shield him from the loud arguments with her husband, who didn’t want him in their house.

Michael sighed, his gaze moving to the opposite riverbank where he spotted a great blue heron. Its spindly legs supported a gawky body more gray than blue. The bird flapped its wings and ascended into the cloudless sky, transforming into a creature of breathtaking beauty in an instant.

He soon figured out the reason the heron had taken flight: a kayak appeared, followed by a string of bright-green rubber rafts heading for the white water slightly downriver from where he sat.

He read the writing on the sides of the rafts as they drew closer—Indigo River Rafters, one of the outfits that operated guided commercial white-water trips on the Lehigh. The companies catered mostly to tourists, also offering mountain bikes and tubes for rent.

Chrissy had been partial to tubing.

He tried to blot out the memory, but it took hold. His mind conjured up an image of Chrissy, her blond hair pulled back from her pretty, laughing face as they headed downriver on the inflatable rubber tubes. Not that either of them had paid a rental fee for their fun.

Getting a couple of truck-tire inner tubes from Jessup’s Automotive Store in town would have been easy enough, but that’s not the way Michael had rolled. He’d wait until the commercial guides were loading tubes back onto the truck, then lift a couple when their backs were turned.

Chrissy had been up for it, but then she’d been up for just about anything. That was one of the things he’d enjoyed about her. He’d liked the way she’d been on his side, too. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t tried too hard to talk her out of leaving Indigo Springs with him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing in vain that the breeze off the river could blow away his guilt.

The boats were closer now, the rafters following the guide in the lead kayak down the left side of the river where the rapids were easier to ride.

The current was swifter than usual for summer, when the commercial companies were usually relegated to running pleasure trips. He was familiar enough with the river’s nuances that he figured it was a dam-release day. Officials periodically released water from the reservoir to increase the flow and depth of the river. The deeper, faster-moving water made for better fishing, boating and rafting, leading to more tourist dollars.

The strategy was working, judging by the number of people on this trip. Michael watched the rafters in front of the pack take their wild ride down the rapid, glimpsing wide grins and smiling, carefree faces.

As he tried to muster the courage to return to the town where he’d never been welcome, he envied them.

M AYBE HER FAMILY was right and she wasn’t as adventurous as she claimed to be.

The closer her group of rafters came to the churning, frothing rapid, the more Sara Brenneman felt compelled to paddle against the current. Back the way they’d come.