Tracy Kelleher - A Rare Find

She’s always lived her life by the book…

How does a rule-abiding, accomplished woman fall for a rebel college dropout? It’s something rare-books curator Penelope Bigelow is still trying to figure out! Regardless of what logic she tries to use, the proof remains that when celebrity chef Nicholas Rheinhardt is around, her composure takes a vacation. With all the reunion festivities, it’s hard to avoid him…especially since he needs her expertise in antiquities for an upcoming episode of his cable travel show.

Too bad the past isn’t what Penelope’s focusing on when she’s with Nick. There’s more to him than his infamous reputation—and that intrigues her. Penelope isn’t looking for perfection…even though Nick’s coming very close!

“What is it you really want?”

Nick took a step closer. It wasn’t a threatening move, but definitely allowed him to enter Penelope’s personal space.

Penelope didn’t retreat. Instead, she raised her head to look him directly in the eye.

He noticed the throb of that vein in her forehead again and felt an irresistible urge to stroke it. But he didn’t.

He wet his lips and said in a low voice, “Well, now that you mention it, I want you to come to Hoagie Palace with us tonight.”

She tilted her head. “Why?”

“It’ll be fun.”

“And after tonight?”

He searched her eyes to try to figure out what she was thinking, but he found himself distracted, confused…more than confused. But in a very good way.

Dear Reader,

Confession time: After graduating from Yale University with a degree in history, I had a fellowship to study in Rome, Italy. When I wasn’t practicing my Italian and exploring the city, I did research on early-medieval manuscripts in the Vatican Library. Ever since then, I’ve wanted to incorporate the fascinating world of rare books and manuscripts into a contemporary romance. Well, now I finally get my chance.

My heroine, Penelope Bigelow, is the curator at Grantham University’s Rare Book Library, and she gets to educate my hero, Nicholas Rheinhardt, on the wonders of old handwriting and the timeless beauty of historic documents. Nick is a Grantham dropout who’s achieved celebrity and notoriety as a chef and travel-show host. He’s in town to give a Class Day speech for the graduates and film an episode of his show. Can you say yin and yang? Oil and water? Total attraction?

The question is, how do you know when someone or something is the genuine article? When do the heart and the mind come together to trust that something so unique can exist in ways you never even dared to dream?

In this case, the answer’s not written in the stars, but on the folios.

As always, I love to hear from my readers. Just email me at tracyk@tracykelleher.com.

Tracy Kelleher

A Rare Find

Tracy Kelleher

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tracy sold her first story to a children’s magazine when she was ten years old. Writing was clearly in her blood, though fiction was put on hold while she received degrees from Yale and Cornell, traveled the world, worked in advertising, became a staff reporter and later a magazine editor. She also managed to raise a family. Is it any surprise she escapes to the world of fiction?

This book is dedicated to my great friend and fabulous cook Inkyung Yi.

Only you could have two sets of twins and somehow look so terrific.

Contents

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER ONE

September

A Former Country of the Soviet Union—Far, Far Off the Grid

NICHOLAS RHEINHARDT©LAY©on the hard stone table, belly-side down, and hoped like hell that the moisture on the towel beneath him came from his own sweat. He gritted his teeth to stifle a groan as a seminaked and thoroughly oiled masseur squatted above him and frog-hopped down the length of his spine.

The humiliation would have verged on the comedic if the pain weren’t so excruciating. He couldn’t imagine anything worse, not even a root canal—two root canals—without Novocain. But he refused to whimper and beg for mercy.

After all, the cameras were rolling.

Whose idea had it been anyway to shoot several episodes of his travel-and-food show in this country so far off the beaten track?

Up until this point, the whole television thing had been a pretty good gig.

Now life had turned into a high-definition hellhole as recorded by a sardonic cameraman and a highly sensitive soundman. Was it any wonder that Frommer’s, Michelin or Lonely Planet guidebooks had failed to extol the wonders of this remote village, let alone the bathhouse?

Nick felt the vertebrae cracking in his neck as the otherwise silent masseur worked his torture. And, ironically, that’s when it came to him. The jackass who’d suggested they make a trek through the mysterious eastern provinces of the former Soviet Union—countries like Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan? The same jackass who’d had this romantic notion that they’d see yaks and yurts, fiery peasants and dreadful Communist architecture?

It’d been him.

The bantamweight masseur chose that moment to slip his sinewy arms under Nick’s armpits and force his elbows to lock together behind his back. A small ugh emitted from Nick’s throat. After this workout, he seriously wondered if from now on his upper limbs would dangle uselessly at his sides. Most probably he would go through the rest of life with curious onlookers remarking, “And to think he once was able to debone a leg of lamb with the best of them.”

“So, tell me. This massage you’re getting. It looks pretty…ah…strenuous. Still, it’s all it was cracked up to be, right?” Georgie, his jovial producer, asked from off camera.

Nick growled deep in his chest—the part that hadn’t been crushed as of yet—and thought, Just wait till I do the voice-over commentary to this bit back in New York. Because now it all comes back to me, that, between multiple vodka shots the other night, you were the sly dog who suggested this bit of local color. Yes, you, Georgie.

The masseur slapped Nick’s towel-covered rump, signaling the end of the session.

Georgie turned to the cameraman. “That’s a wrap.” Then he bounced jovially across the stone floor to his damaged on-air talent. “That bad, huh?”

Nick thought about raising his head off the table, but that small motion required too much energy. “Let’s put it this way, I will absolutely, positively agree to do anything else rather than go through this again—preferably something that involves close proximity to a Nathan’s Famous hot dog. I’m starving.” Knowing no shame, Nick held out an arm. “Help your lord and master get upright, if it’s at all possible.”