Janie Crouch - Fully Committed

Jon’s hazel eyes were close to hers and she could feel warmth where he was touching her.

“I’m going to be right here, okay?” he said. “Your lifeline, like we talked about yesterday. Everybody needs one in this line of work.”

Her lifeline. Yes, she needed someone to make sure she wasn’t going under. Jon would do that.

As if he could read her mind he said, “I’ll be right here. I won’t let you go under.”

Sherry took a breath and nodded. Okay, she could do this. At least she would try.

“I’m okay.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “You’re more than okay. You can do this.”

“I hope so.”

Fully Committed

Janie Crouch

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JANIE CROUCHhas loved to read romance her whole life. She cut her teeth on Mills & Boon Romance novels as a preteen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult. Janie lives with her husband and four children overseas. Janie enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing. You can find out more about her at www.janiecrouch.com.

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To “my” Jon and Sherry: it has been such a joy for everyone to watch the two of you fall in love.

A beautiful romance that books—mine or otherwise—would only hope to imitate.

May you forever live out Ed Sheeran’s “Tenerife Sea.”

I’ll always think of you when I hear it.

Contents

Cover

Introduction Jon’s hazel eyes were close to hers and she could feel warmth where he was touching her. “I’m going to be right here, okay?” he said. “Your lifeline, like we talked about yesterday. Everybody needs one in this line of work.” Her lifeline. Yes, she needed someone to make sure she wasn’t going under. Jon would do that. As if he could read her mind he said, “I’ll be right here. I won’t let you go under.” Sherry took a breath and nodded. Okay, she could do this. At least she would try. “I’m okay.” He kissed her on the forehead. “You’re more than okay. You can do this.” “I hope so.”

Title Page Fully Committed Janie Crouch www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author JANIE CROUCH has loved to read romance her whole life. She cut her teeth on Mills & Boon Romance novels as a preteen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult. Janie lives with her husband and four children overseas. Janie enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing. You can find out more about her at www.janiecrouch.com .

Dedication To “my” Jon and Sherry: it has been such a joy for everyone to watch the two of you fall in love. A beautiful romance that books—mine or otherwise—would only hope to imitate. May you forever live out Ed Sheeran’s “Tenerife Sea.” I’ll always think of you when I hear it.

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

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Sherry Mitchell was pretty sure she was the only tourist on the beaches of Corpus Christi, Texas, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans to try to help her relax. Especially since the late-afternoon heat was expected to spike toward one hundred degrees on this June day.

Granted, she was under a large, colorful beach umbrella that threw enough shade to protect her from a great deal of the sun’s rays and the heat. She was from Houston—a Texas girl born and bred—so was perhaps a little more adjusted to the heat than some of the tourists used to more temperate climates. But she’d still received a couple of odd glances.

She had her bathing suit—a red bikini she’d bought last week especially for this vacation—on under her clothes. Somehow she hadn’t been able to force herself to wear just the tiny scraps of cloth just yet.

Not that they were that tiny. The suit itself was pretty modest compared to some seen around here on any given day. Not to mention, it was quite attractive on her.

The problem wasn’t anything to do with a bathing suit or modesty or appearances at all. The problem was the iciness that seemed to have permeated Sherry’s very core recently.

She felt cold almost all the time. As if she would never be warm again.

Intellectually she knew that couldn’t be true. She knew this feeling—a chill even in upper-90s weather—was all a product of her mind, her psyche. Her body wasn’t really cold. She didn’t have some rare disease or unknown illness. It was all inside her head. She’d taken her temperature to make sure.

It had been completely normal.

Nothing was wrong with her physically. She’d double-checked with her doctor. Gone in for a physical. “A couple-years-late, quarter-of-a-century checkup,” she’d told him, not wanting to bring up the fact that she had the heater running at her house even though winter had long since passed.

Ironically the doctor had not only declared her completely healthy, but had congratulated her on being more grounded and wise than many people her age who tended to avoid physicals until something was wrong.

Sherry didn’t avoid physicals. But it seemed that her mind was doing its best to avoid reality.

She pulled her shirt around her more tightly. It wasn’t just the cold. She also couldn’t stand the thought of being exposed, of sitting out here with no cover. As if the clothing she wore would somehow keep her insides from fragmenting into a million pieces and flying away.

Icy and fragmented. Two words she would never have used to describe herself a year ago now fit her perfectly. She had seen too much, been close to too many people with shattered lives. Had worked for too long without a break, without giving herself a chance to recharge. To heal.

Now her mind was evidently taking over that duty for Sherry. She was getting a break from her work whether she wanted it or not.

Because if she thought the cold was bad on normal occasions, it was downright frigid every time she tried to pick up a pencil and sketch pad.

They both sat beside her under the umbrella on their own towel. She was further from picking them up than she was from stripping down to just her bathing suit and frolicking in the sun.

She missed drawing. Creating the pictures of what she saw in her head. And more recently, creating the pictures other people saw in their heads.

Unfortunately those had turned out to be hideous monsters. A shiver rushed through her and she brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and rocking herself slightly back and forth.

At one time she had drawn every day, all the time. Growing up, she’d drawn or painted or colored on anything she could get her hands on: notebook paper, computer paper, the insides of book covers.