Julie Miller - Sudden Engagement

Brett angled himself to shield Ginny from his crew’s prying eyes. “Maybe we’d better kiss instead. Make this charade look real.”

“No.”

“No? We’re supposed to seal an engagement, not a traffic citation.”

Her deep, fortifying breath matched his own. “I hate it when you’re right.”

She pressed her lips together, zeroing in on his mouth.

Brett caught her chin in his palm and stroked his thumb across her lips. “Relax. I’ll meet you halfway.”

Ginny sank back as he lowered his head and replaced his thumb with his mouth. The lower arc of her sweet lips trembled. Drawn to the tiny flutter of movement, Brett pressed the generous curve between his own lips.

Her lips barely moved.

Her hands were another story altogether.

Her fingers dug into his chest, then crept up to his shoulders, holding herself steady or holding him close, Brett couldn’t tell. He wondered if she even knew.

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Julie Miller attributed her passion for writing romance to all those fairy tales she read growing up, and to shyness. Encouragement from her family to write down all those feelings she couldn’t express became a love for the written word. She gets continued support from her fellow members of the Prairieland Romance Writers, where she serves as the resident “grammar goddess.” This award-winning author and teacher has published several paranormal romances. Inspired by the likes of Agatha Christie and Encyclopedia Brown, Ms. Miller believes the only thing better than a good mystery is a good romance.

Born and raised in Missouri, she now lives in Nebraska with her husband, son and smiling guard dog, Maxie. Write to Julie at P.O. Box 5162, Grand Island, NE 68802-5162.

Detective Ginny Rafferty—As a rule, this headstrong cop works alone. So temporarily joining forces with her potently sexy “fiancé” is bound to wreak havoc on her steely self-control—and on her heart.

Brett Taylor—This neighborhood hero would do anything to protect his family or a friend. And he never forgets a promise, especially when it is made in the heat of passion to the woman he can’t resist.

Sophie Bishop—She survived a treacherous past. But will she survive her future?

Eric Chamberlain—Attorney-at-law. Brett’s high-school rival still wants to be #1.

Pearl and Ruby Jenkins—This mother and daughter have their sights set on Brett.

Dennis Fitzgerald—Ginny’s attentive neighbor knows a lot more about her murder investigation than he’s letting on.

Detective Merle Banning—Is Ginny’s true-blue partner jealous of the new man in her life?

Zeke—Just another homeless guy. Or does his occasionally lucid mind hold a decade-old secret?

Amy Rafferty and Mark Bishop—These star-crossed lovers paid dearly for their dreams.

Alvin Bishop—The neighborhood bully finally got what he deserved. But who put him out of his misery?

I’d like to thank my two ace research assistants, who possess a lifetime of expertise on Kansas City, Missouri, and its history—aka Mom and Dad!

This book is for the Mom’s Group, especially my friends Linda Whitely and Lee Carter—because I promised.

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

“Brett. Over here.”

Brett Taylor ducked beneath the yellow tape that marked off the condemned building as a crime scene. He took the concrete steps two at a time and joined his younger brother at the top.

Mac Taylor adjusted the wire-rimmed frames of his glasses, pulled off his plastic gloves and extended his hand to greet him. “I said I’d call you when I knew something. What are you doing here?”

Brett shook hands, then splayed his fingers on either side of his denim-clad hips. He looked down a couple of inches at his tall, fair-haired brother. “I’m saving the world. What does it look like?” He surveyed the team of men and women in black Kansas City Police Department jackets, who were swarming in and out of crumbling doorways and kicking up dust from the disintegrating brickwork. The old Ludlow Arms apartment building was an accident waiting to happen. Apparently one already had. “Your people know to watch their step, don’t they?”

He crossed the entryway to a hole in the plaster. He glanced at the connecting struts within the wall, then reached inside and pried loose a rotting two-by-four. He turned and displayed the evidence of age and neglect for his brother. “This is one gal I can’t fix.”

“We understand ‘structurally unsafe.”’ Mac shook his head. “Though I still don’t get the concept of buying this old place if all you’re going to do is tear it down.”

Brett wasn’t sure he could explain the tricky combination of memories and guilt and dreams that had prompted him to take out a loan against his business to buy a block of dead buildings in his old neighborhood. “This old Victorian lady—” he said, giving the structure a feminine appellation like any devoted captain. He tilted his chin and cataloged the remains of the intricate molding that outlined the ceiling, appreciating their elegant curves the way he’d appreciate any woman’s figure “—is beyond help. But I can turn the acreage into a pocket park to add value to the other sites I’m remodeling.”

“You sure you can afford a project this size?”

“I have investors.” Brett tossed aside the beam—and Mac’s concern—and got down to business. “Now show me this dead body you found.”

“Not me. A couple of homeless guys tried to camp out in the basement.” He checked the notepad he carried. “A Zeke and a Charlie. No last names. Heard sounds in the walls. Thought the place was haunted. Went to check it out.”

Brett laughed. “Yeah. Old Zeke’s a war vet. The only enemy he’s afraid of is the real world.”

Mac nodded and led the way downstairs to the basement. “I guess. He called 911 and said he’d pulled a buddy from a foxhole.”

Brett’s admiration for the seventy-eight-year-old gave way to habitual worry. “I’m hoping to turn the old Walton Building into a shelter. Put in office space upstairs. Maybe we can get the therapists and clients in the same building and save a few bucks.”

“You really are out to save the world,” Mac teased.

“Just my corner of it.”

Maybe this time he’d get it right.

The Ludlow Arms hadn’t seen electricity for years, but the path was lit by a series of battery-powered lanterns, spaced evenly between puddles where the steady drizzle of rain leaked in. Even inside his red-and-white flannel shirt and thermal top, Brett felt the drop in temperature as they descended into the unheated darkness.