Beverly Bird - All The Way

“And you left!” Liv shouted back. “You should have just asked me to marry you in the first place!”

“How could I? I didn’t know about her!”

Hunter watched Liv’s expression cave. He saw the tears gather in her eyes, shining and wet.

“Exactly,” she said, clipping off the syllables.

She put the car in gear. Hunter moved around in front of it to stop her from driving off. She wouldn’t actually run over him. At least, he didn’t think so.

“‘Exactly’?” he demanded. “What does that mean?”

Liv stuck her head out the window. “Why did you need to know about the baby, Hunter, to want to stay with me?”

She gunned the engine. He leaped aside just in time to avoid being flattened. He watched her car smoke up the road.

He scrubbed a palm over his mouth, still tasting her. Still wanting her.

He realized he could hate her for that alone.

Dear Reader,

It’s always cause for celebration when Sharon Sala writes a new book, so prepare to cheer for The Way to Yesterday. How many times have you wished for a chance to go back in time and get a second chance at something? Heroine Mary O’Rourke gets that chance, and you’ll find yourself caught up in her story as she tries to make things right with the only man she’ll ever love.

ROMANCING THE CROWN continues with Lyn Stone’s A Royal Murder. The suspense—and passion—never flag in this exciting continuity series. Catherine Mann has only just begun her Intimate Moments career, but already she’s created a page-turning military miniseries in WINGMEN WARRIORS. Grayson’s Surrender is the first of three “don’t miss” books. Look for the next, Taking Cover, in November.

The rest of the month unites two talented veterans— Beverly Bird, with All the Way, and Shelley Cooper, with Laura and the Lawman—with exciting newcomer Cindy Dees, who debuts with Behind Enemy Lines. Enjoy them all—and join us again next month, when we once again bring you an irresistible mix of excitement and romance in six new titles by the best authors in the business.

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

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has lived in several places in the United States, but she is currently back where her roots began on an island in New Jersey. Her time is devoted to her family and her writing. She is the author of numerous romance novels, both contemporary and historical. Beverly loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 350, Brigantine, NJ 08203.

For Justin,

Jeff Gordon’s good luck charm and greatest fan (mine, too!)

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Saturday, September 3

Millsboro, Delaware

The murmur of the diners’ voices was muted and pleasant, the air redolent with hints of garlic and bread baking in the open-hearth kitchen. Olivia Slade Guenther was content, enjoying herself and the time with her daughter, then he walked into the restaurant.

His gaze rolled idly over them, then it jerked back to pin them into their flamingo-pink, not-quite-leather booth. Liv felt shock fly through her—icy and hot all at once, searing her nerve endings, then numbing them. Panic gripped her and she thought of running.

It was out of the question. For one thing, Vicky was still digging into her buttermilk-fried chicken, and she was chattering in judgmental tones about the pink rococo ceiling over their heads. And he was between them and the door.

Besides, Liv was damned if she’d let him see her sweat. She gathered air into her lungs and fell back on one of the many lessons she had learned at her Navajo grandmother’s knee. You are what you think you are.

“I’m tough as nails,” she muttered aloud.

“What?” Her daughter looked up at her, still chewing.

“Eat your dinner.”

Vicky swallowed, frowned. “I was.”

“Then concentrate on it.”

“Mom, it’s just chicken—and it’s not even as good as Aunt Kiki’s. How much can I think about it?”

There was that, Liv thought. Vicky was often too smart for her own good—not to mention her mother’s.

Hunter Hawk-Cole was three feet away now, approaching them.

“Don’t say a word,” Liv hissed under her breath.

“How come?”

“Because I said so.” Liv groaned aloud. They were the very words she had promised herself she would never say to a child of hers should she be blessed enough to have one. Then she opened her mouth and they fell out, shattering like fine china on the restaurant table. Less than a minute after he had walked back into her life, Hunter was once again challenging everything she knew about herself.

He stopped beside their table. One glance at Vicky and his midnight-blue eyes narrowed with speculation. No matter that Vicky was small for her age, that she could easily have passed for seven or even six. No matter that Hunter had every reason to believe she was Johnny Guenther’s daughter. Liv knew he’d figured it out that quickly—Vicky was his own.

Her heart started pistoning. Tough as nails indeed.

“Of all the gin joints in all the world…” Hunter’s voice trailed off. “Well, Liv. What were the odds of us running into each other again on the East Coast?”

His voice had always reminded her of smoke. It had a way of sliding over her skin, of heating it to the point where she’d no longer needed promises. Liv grabbed her wineglass and downed half of its contents. “I was hoping for slim to none.”

“Then you’ve turned into a gambler after all.”

His words went through her like a knife that had been passed through flame. Liv was saved from answering by a group of Hunter’s fans.

As soon as they recognized him, diners popped up from the surrounding tables like hyacinths in a May garden. They crowded him, holding out menus, napkins, a few prepurchased race-day programs. He signed each of them without a smile, accessible enough but keeping that look about him that she’d noticed on television. It said there was something inside him that no one would ever touch again.

She knew what had changed him—or at least what he’d probably like her to think it was. Not you, Liv. You’re the only person who ever knew when I was gone. There had been anger and betrayal in his eyes when he had spoken those words to her, eight and a half years ago over a scarred oaken bar. But in the end, he’d gone.