Crystal Green - Courted by the Texas Millionaire

Davis looked down at Violet, her cinnamon-brown eyes soft with an openness he hadn’t seen since she’d returned. Questions, answers.

Could it work if we tried again?

Yes , he thought, in this moment. Yes, it could .

He could hear her breathing, and each inhalation swept through him, too. It seemed right to go a little further—to wind his finger around hers under the cover of all those ribbons, to link to her in such a small yet significant way.

Around them, it was as if everything and everyone had stopped motion, frozen in time while Violet and Davis caught up with each other in the Texas heat.

Kiss her. God, he wanted to kiss her so badly …

Dear Reader,

Welcome to my new miniseries—St. Valentine, Texas!

It’s so exciting to settle in to a fresh town, especially one that has a deeply buried secret that’s about to unravel, thanks to a stranger who sets off a series of events that start in this book.

The two people who go about investigating this secret are our hero and heroine, but digging up the town’s past isn’t all they’re doing—there’s love in the air for them, in spite of a painful, shared past of their own. But this Romeo and Juliet are going to find a happy ending, no matter what obstacles befall them!

Thanks so much for reading my books! In appreciation, I always have a contest running at my website, www.crystal-green.com. You can also check my blog and Twitter (I’m @CrystalGreenMe) for updates about my upcoming projects!

All the best,

Crystal Green

CRYSTAL GREENlives near Las Vegas, where she writes for the Cherish and Blaze ®lines. She loves to read, overanalyze movies and TV programs, practice yoga and travel when she can. You can read more about her at www.crystal-green.com, where she has a blog and contests. Also, you can follow her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/people/Chris-Marie-Green/1051327765 and Twitter at www.twitter.com/ChrisMarieGreen.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all you readers who have allowed me to write for

you. It’s been over ten years now (!), and I hope the

dreams you find in these books are just as

beautiful as the ones you have in life.

Violet Osborne was back.

Davis Jackson watched her slow down as she walked by his newspaper office and peer through the glass window. He lowered his flute of champagne while, around him, the fundraiser he was hosting for the town’s Helping Hand Foundation sparkled with activity, much like the Cristal bubbles in the drink he’d served to his guests.

Violet.

The girl who’d gotten away.

She stopped at his door. His heart thudded, as if it was running backward, fifteen years to the past, to the day she’d left him for college, abandoning little St. Valentine, Texas, in her rearview mirror. Abandoning him.

Their gazes locked as they stood there, and he knew she could feel everything he felt—the sharp edges of all the questions left unanswered between them, the tension of seeing each other again, all grown up, years later, man and woman.

Although Violet smiled at him, there were shadows in her brown eyes as she said hello by pressing her fingers to the glass that separated them.

Something clenched in Davis’s chest, and he forgot that he was in a crowded room, full of the town’s upper crust dressed in their cocktail-hour best.

Violet. Here.

The mayor’s voice brought Davis back. “Dessert’s ready!”

Davis heard everyone migrate toward the back of the high-tech office, toward where they’d pitched white tents outside to accommodate the food. Violet still waited, as if she didn’t know whether to come inside or just walk away from Davis. Again.

The memory of that day, the slam of realizing that he didn’t mean all that much to Violet, the miner’s daughter he’d fallen for, the off-limits girl who’d seemed to know him better than anyone, tore into Davis like a fresh wound. But what pained the most was what she’d said that day, just before she’d left for college.

“Is it true? Are there other girls, Davis?”

Even though she’d said that she hadn’t believed it when she’d heard it, he’d seen a different story in her eyes—a doubt that he hadn’t changed enough to truly love her.

And that doubt had crushed the life out of what they’d had together in one swift moment, even if they’d naively thought nothing could tear them apart….

He opened the door, and Violet took a breath, as if she was readying herself for a reunion, not only with him, but with all the people who were filtering out of the back exit, checking her out and dismissing her because she was hardly important to them.

But Violet wouldn’t have been expecting any fuss from the others—not after she’d spent her time in St. Valentine making it plain that she wanted to leave. The attitude hadn’t gone over well with the townies or most of the miners.

Yet she’d made good on all her youthful confidence, hadn’t she?

Her sophisticated hairstyle made her straight, dark red hair brush her neck. It went well with those big brown eyes that told you there was a quick mind always at work. Womanly curves, too, enhanced by a fashionable yet professional yellow summer blouse and white pants that hugged shapely hips and long legs …

Yeah, all grown up now.

“Violet,” he said, and it sounded as if he’d been nursing her name inside him for years, even if he’d just realized it now. Immediately, he wished it’d come out differently: as if he’d spent all these years never thinking about her.

She had seemed to be deciding whether to hug him or not, but his own posture—stiff-shouldered, his body just now catching up with his bruised pride—must’ve warned her off, because she didn’t make a move toward him.

“Davis,” she said in a low tone that had always belied a prim, innocent facade. He’d always thought that Violet sounded like a Hollywood actress who hadn’t found the limelight yet.

But from what he knew about the career she’d built on the city desk of the L.A. Times , she’d become a rising star in the world of journalism.

She stuffed her hands in her pockets, acknowledging the tension between them. “I was just walking around Old Town, taking everything in.”

She glanced around the now-empty room. The silence of it echoed.

As if wanting to fill it up, she asked, “What’s the occasion?”

Dancing around the past like this shouldn’t bother him as much as it did. Years had gone by. He could be civil, even though he felt the anger, the shame of her leaving him creeping back up on him. “It’s a fundraiser for a local charity. We had the reception in the Recorder ’s office because the paper’s been featuring different families who need some extra help these days.”

She’d grown up with a lot of the hard-luck families who benefited from Helping Hand, some of them mining people who’d been struggling ever since the kaolin operation had shut down. That mine had once been the foundation of St. Valentine, producing china clay that could be used to make paper, plastic, paints and the like.

He put his champagne down on a desk. Friendly. He had to be friendly, because time had passed and he’d matured. None of it mattered now.

“So you’re paying the town a visit,” he said.

“I guess you could call it that.” Her skin flushed as she glanced away. “It won’t be for very long, though. I can’t even stay here right now—I’m starting a shift at the Queen of Hearts.”