Lawman's Redemption
“Would you like to come in?”
“Very much,” he answered.
“But you’re not going to.”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
Because it was wrong—more so than the first time, not as much as the second, but still wrong. Because, in spite of her assurances, he wasn’t sure what her expectations were. Hell, he wasn’t sure what his expectations were. Because they were a great match for a one-night stand, but neither of them brought much hope to the success of anything more.
And because he liked her, honestly liked her, and though he didn’t know what he wanted from her, he did know one thing for sure: he didn’t want to hurt her. She’d gotten enough of that for a lifetime.
MARILYN PAPPANO
brings impeccable credentials to her career—a lifelong habit of gazing out windows, not paying attention in class, daydreaming and spinning tales for her own entertainment. The sale of her first book proved that she wasn’t crazy but creative. Since then she’s sold more than forty books to various publishers and even a film production company.
In winter she stays inside with her husband and their four dogs, and in summer she spends her free time mowing the yard and daydreams about grass that never gets taller than two inches.
You can write to her at P.O. Box 643, Sapulpa, OK, 74067-0643.
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
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Chapter 1
The first time Brady Marshall ever saw Hallie Madison, he picked her up in a bar, took her back to her motel and spent most of the night having amazing sex with her.
The second time was in church.
In a wedding.
Thank God, not as the bride.
He stood at the front of the First Baptist Church of Heartbreak, Oklahoma, with Jace Barnett, the best man, and Reese Barnett, the groom, on his right and Del, Reese’s father, on his left. As the organist played a slow processional, he gazed out over a full church and watched the bride’s attendants come up the aisle. First were Emma and Elly Harris, wearing matching dresses and scattering baskets of petals. A few yards behind them was the first bridesmaid—a petite china doll with silvery-brown hair cut as short as a boy’s…though with those delicate features, no one would ever mistake her for one.
Bringing up the rear was the maid of honor. She was of average height, athletic looking, her also-short hair also silvery-brown. Despite her lack of curves, no one would ever mistake her for a boy, either—but neither would they figure her for a private investigator, which she was.
And in the middle was Hallie. His mystery woman from two nights ago. She hadn’t offered her name or asked for his, and he’d been satisfied not knowing. He should have asked. Even if he’d known she was sister and soon-to-be sister-in-law to his best friends, he still might have gone to the motel with her…but he wouldn’t risk money on it. Most likely, if he’d known, he would have high-tailed it out of that bar and spent the night regretting what he hadn’t done.
Better than spending his time regretting what he had done.
Hallie was about five foot eight and slender, but with curves in all the right places. Her hair was silky and blond and past her shoulders, her eyes were hazel—he hadn’t realized he knew that until just now—and her smile was bright and cheery, but anyone who looked closely could see the tension underlying it. For whatever reason, this wasn’t a great time for her, but she was doing her best to hide it for her sisters’ sake.
There they were—the Madison sisters. He’d heard a lot about them from their oldest sister, Neely. There was Kylie the pretty one, Hallie the popular one and Bailey the smart one. If Hallie made a habit of doing what she’d done with him two nights ago, he could understand why she was popular.
But he didn’t think she did. Maybe his ego needed to think that he’d been special, though he knew too well that wasn’t true. While Hallie might not routinely pick up sex partners in bars, he did, and he knew special had nothing to do with it. Being lonely did. And alone. Not interested in a relationship. Not able to connect with people except in the most superficial way.