Farrah Rochon - Yours Forever

Can the sins of the past…

Louisiana powerhouse attorney Matthew Gauthier has spent a lifetime safeguarding his prominent family’s scandalous history. So when Tamryn West makes it her mission to dig up the past, Matthew must do everything in his power to stop her. But his plan to distract the alluring history professor begins to send his own passions raging out of control.

…become the hope of the future?

Tamryn came to the town of Gauthier to find the diary that could be the missing link to her grandmother and her enduring legacy. In the process, she stumbles onto the secrets of another family—secrets Matt will protect at any cost. As his sensual touch awakens Tamryn’s deepest desires, will a revelation that could make her career cost Matt his political dreams—and their future together?Can the sins of the past…

“No, no, no.” He caught her hand and pulled her toward him. “You don’t get to leave until you answer the question.”

“Says who?”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t let go of her hand, either.

“You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?” Tamryn asked.

He shrugged. “I’m an only child. It comes with the territory.” He pulled her closer. “Now, tell me. How much will flashing my dimples help with my campaign?”

“I’m sure those dimples will win you a lot of votes.”

Matt dipped his head until his forehead nearly touched hers. In a low murmur he said, “I think you know that’s not the campaign I’m talking about.”

The urge to kiss her was so potent, so dangerously powerful, that Matt had to remind himself it wasn’t his God-given right. At the moment, he couldn’t think of anything but giving in to the impulse to discover how her mouth would feel against his.

“Why are you making this so difficult?” she asked in a breathless whisper.

“What am I making difficult this time?”

“The oath I took to keep things strictly professional with you.”

FARRAH ROCHON

had dreams of becoming a fashion designer as a teenager, until she discovered she would be expected to wear something other than jeans to work every day. Thankfully, the coffee shop where she writes does not have a dress code.

When Farrah is not penning stories, the avid sports fan feeds her addiction to football by attending New Orleans Saints games.

Yours Forever

Farrah Rochon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

I don’t know about you, but I’m fascinated by the study of genealogy. Maybe it’s because I come from a large family. Those old stories that were staples around the dinner table piqued my inquisitive mind as a young girl, and I’ve always wanted to dig into my family’s history.

One of the coolest things about the internet is the ease with which a person can now study their family’s past. With the click of a mouse you can discover a plethora of interesting facts about your ancestors. For Professor Tamryn West, the heroine of Yours Forever, researching her great-great-grandmother’s past is more than just something cool to do on the internet; it is her life’s passion.

I hope you enjoy following Tamryn on her journey as she uncovers the secrets of her family’s past…and finds love in the place she least expects.

I thank you for returning to the town of Gauthier, Louisiana, with me. Come back next month for another story in the Bayou Dreams series, Forever’s Promise. I am positive that you will fall in love with Shayla and Xavier.

Happy reading,

Farrah Rochon

For my traveling buddy, my aunt, Catherine Gray.

Looking forward to many more adventures!

But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.

—2 Chronicles 15:6–8

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Chapter 1

“How did I end up here?”

Tamryn West stumbled over a clump of dried mud as she walked along the dirt-and-gravel road. She did her best Statue of Liberty impersonation as she pointed her cell phone skyward and tried to find a signal. Shielding her eyes against the sun’s rays, she spun in a slow circle, hoping to spot something other than the trees and high weeds that seemed to stretch for miles all around her.

“How in the hell did I end up here?”

And who would she have to murder at the car-rental company for renting her a car with a busted radiator? She was no automobile expert, but after eight years in Boston she’d refilled the antifreeze enough times to know how a radiator should look, and it should definitely not have steam blowing out of it like a pot of boiling pasta.

She held the phone up to the sky again, but got the same result. Zero bars. Was it really a surprise that the Middle of Nowhere, Louisiana, wouldn’t have cell-phone service?

Tamryn peered down the road she’d been traveling, trying to recall the last house she’d passed. It had been at least five miles back. Possibly more.

She was not walking for miles in these heels. She’d probably have better luck if she continued traveling east instead of backtracking. According to her cell phone’s GPS—back when it was working and before it started recalculating over and over again—she had been only fifteen miles from the town of Gauthier.

That meant she should only have about five miles or so to go, right?

Of course, that was before her ill-advised detour onto this dirt road.

“No use beating yourself up over it,” Tamryn told herself, blowing out a weary breath.

The best thing she could do right now was get moving. She’d been out here for nearly an hour already, and not a single car had passed. She would have to walk until she found some sign of life, or at least enough bars on her cell phone to send an SOS text message.

Tamryn started back for the rental car to retrieve her laptop, because even though there had been no sign of life on this road, she would not chance having her laptop stolen. All of her important files were backed up on several flash drives, but that didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be able to make it a day without her computer.

The rumble of an engine broke into the stillness that had surrounded her for the past hour. Tamryn surveyed the area ahead and spotted a cloud of red dust mushrooming in the distance. A shiny motorcycle appeared, emerging from the cloud like a ghost come to life.

Her heart rate escalated.

This could be a good thing, or it could be a very, very bad thing.

She was a woman alone on a back road in an unfamiliar town. She had no cell-phone service, and even in a pair of Nikes she could only manage a comfortable jog. If she had to outrun some unsavory character on a motorcycle while wearing these heels, she’d just as well give up right now.

“Enough with the dramatics,” Tamryn said. Maybe Motorcycle Guy was a perfectly safe gentleman taking a leisurely Sunday-afternoon bike ride around the countryside. For all she knew, he could be a seventy-year-old retiree trying to recapture his youth.

Motorcycle Guy started to let off the gas about ten yards ahead of her, so that by the time he reached the tail end of her rental car, his bike kicked up only a smattering of dust.

He stopped and steadied his legs on the ground, and one thing became immediately clear: this was no seventy-year-old retiree, not with the way his solid black T-shirt hugged his leanly muscled biceps, shoulders and chest. It was obvious his jeans had seen better days, but the way the worn fabric molded to his legs literally made her mouth water. He wore dark sunglasses, nearly as black as his gleaming motorcycle helmet.