Evelyn Crowe - Safe Haven

“Are you in trouble with the law?” “Are you in trouble with the law?” “No,” Avery said. “What I am is broke. What I need is a job, and this one suits me fine.” Logan finished his coffee. At one time, he’d been a good judge of character. Now he didn’t trust his own instincts. He didn’t think she’d lied, but there were secrets shifting around in those gray eyes, and her. expression was just too bland. But what did it matter? All he wanted was to be left alone. He had the feeling Avery Jensen was looking for the same. “We’d best get some things straight,” he said. “Haven has its busybodies. They’re going to make a lot out of a beautiful, single woman living on a ranch with a widower.” He paused. “There are people in town who are going to talk about me. I don’t give a damn what they say, but you might.” The corner of Avery’s mouth tipped slightly upward and she said, “I don’t put much stock in gossip. But just so I won’t be surprised or shocked—what am I likely to hear?” “That I’m responsible for my wife’s and son’s deaths. And that I benefited by getting an ungodly amount of insurance money.” He shoved back his chair and stood. “They’re right on both counts.” ABOUT THE AUTHOR ABOUT THE AUTHOR Evelyn A. Crowe worked for twelve years as a media director in an advertising company before turning her hand to writing in 1983. Her decision to change careers was certainly a stroke of good fortune for Harlequin readers. Evelyn’s bestselling books are favorites around the world. Title Page Safe Haven Evelyn A. Crowe www.millsandboon.co.uk 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 Heart of the West Copyright

“Are you in trouble with the law?”

“No,” Avery said. “What I am is broke. What I need is a job, and this one suits me fine.”

Logan finished his coffee. At one time, he’d been a good judge of character. Now he didn’t trust his own instincts. He didn’t think she’d lied, but there were secrets shifting around in those gray eyes, and her. expression was just too bland. But what did it matter? All he wanted was to be left alone. He had the feeling Avery Jensen was looking for the same.

“We’d best get some things straight,” he said. “Haven has its busybodies. They’re going to make a lot out of a beautiful, single woman living on a ranch with a widower.” He paused. “There are people in town who are going to talk about me. I don’t give a damn what they say, but you might.”

The corner of Avery’s mouth tipped slightly upward and she said, “I don’t put much stock in gossip. But just so I won’t be surprised or shocked—what am I likely to hear?”

“That I’m responsible for my wife’s and son’s deaths. And that I benefited by getting an ungodly amount of insurance money.” He shoved back his chair and stood. “They’re right on both counts.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Evelyn A. Crowe worked for twelve years as a media director in an advertising company before turning her hand to writing in 1983. Her decision to change careers was certainly a stroke of good fortune for Harlequin readers. Evelyn’s bestselling books are favorites around the world.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

THE TEXAS SPRING MORNING was pristine and breathtakingly beautiful, the air intoxicating with its scents of freshly mowed grass and newly tilled earth. Butterflies flitted over the fields. Rolling green hills were splashed with the jewel-like hues of wildflowers.

The setting was picture-perfect—except for the blacktop highway, an ugly tear in the landscape. It was also a dangerous stretch of highway, a deadly couple of miles that twisted and dipped and rose.

The purity of the morning and the cathedral silence was suddenly shattered by sounds of an ancient truck, which emitted a rooster tail of blue smoke as it rolled to a stop. The grinding of the brakes startled nearby birds from their perch in the trees.

A young woman, tall and shapely, climbed out of the passenger side of the truck. As she closed the door, a soft breeze teased her black hair around her face and made the hem of her dress flutter. She hoisted a suitcase from the bed of the truck and waved her thanks to the old man she’d hitched a ride from.

Avery Jensen watched the truck until it disappeared around a bend in the highway. She took a steadying breath to bolster her courage and turned to face the ornate wrought-iron sign arched high over the lane entrance. Her exhausting trip was almost at an end.

Despite her eagerness to finish it, she hesitated, knowing that when she walked under that arch she would truly be cut off from her world as she’d known it. She’d be a new person. If she could have given herself a whole new identity, Avery admitted, she would have. But that was illegal, and she couldn’t afford any run-ins with the law. She’d had enough of those.

Her life had been torn apart and turned inside out. She was scarred and bruised. She’d survived, but the price had been high. Once, not too long ago, she’d had it all. A beautiful home. Family and friends. She’d had a career, a position in society. She’d had power, money and the respect of her peers. She’d even had a fiancé. Now all she had was herself.

For the first time it hit her: she was free. She was safe. Avery laughed. She’d found a safe haven—Ha- ven, Texas, that is—and it beat the hell out of the home she’d had for the past eight months.

She picked up her suitcase. Everything she owned was in it, none of it old. There was nothing to tie her to the past, nothing to remind her of what she’d endured. Nothing to openly declare she’d been a fool. The heaviness of the case was a pleasant reminder that she was carrying her life with her. It felt damn good to realize she was leaving everything else behind.

Her resolve firmly set, she straightened to her full five foot eight, lifted her chin and walked under the archway of the Circle M ranch. She’d been told the owner was Logan Monahan, who raised cattle and quarter horses.

Once she was through the gate and actually on the property, her steps faltered. She was so far from Seattle it felt like another world. But that was what she wanted. Avery adjusted the shoulder strap of her bulging purse, switched the suitcase to her other hand and started walking again.

It didn’t take long for the thicket of overhanging tree limbs to thin out enough for her to see how far she had to walk. She gasped in dismay. The lane snaked for several hundred yards over the rolling land toward a grove of cottonwood trees on the crest of a hill, where she knew, from the detailed directions she’d been given, the ranch house was.

She was stronger now. She could handle anything. Gripping the heavy bag firmly, she put one foot in front of the other. On both sides of the lane, barbed-wire fences sectioned off green rolling pastures. Cattle and horses munched on the lush grass, their tails swishing lackadaisically back and forth, batting flies.

By the time Avery reached the house, she was out of breath and perspiring heavily. Too exhausted to really admire the two-story Victorian house, she did get a quick impression of butter-yellow walls, huntergreen shutters at the windows and a front porch that extended the width of the structure. The thump and bump of her case against the steps and her heavy breathing were the only sounds until she collapsed on the top step with a loud groan. Her arms were twitching with strain and her leg muscles ached. She cursed whoever had messed up and neglected to collect her at the bus station, hoping it wasn’t an omen of things to come.