Not on Her Own. Cynthia Reese

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       It was shelter

      Sure, the doors still weren’t hung, the water supply and electricity weren’t hooked up and the inside shelves she’d planned weren’t installed, but this was a place to work. A place where her dreams could come true.

      She walked around the corner of the house to see Brandon, shirtless, standing at an outside spigot, water rushing into his open hands. He didn’t hear her at first as he splashed water on himself.

      The twilight revealed a well-built body, not an ounce of spare fat anywhere. Not the gym-sculpted, steroid-assisted six-pack she’d grown accustomed to in New York. No, this was the real thing, form beautifully following function.

      An urge to sculpt such a body overtook Penelope—as well as the urge to explore those planes and angles with her hands.

      The splashing halted abruptly as Brandon caught her staring at him

      “You, um, could have come in the house. I have hot water inside, you know.”

      “Well…soap and hot water would be nice.”

      “C’mon.” She indicated the house with a jerk of her head and turned to hide her scarlet face. What was the matter with her? She, who’d painted and sculpted nude, well-built male models, was acting like a schoolgirl. How could this man’s bare chest undo her?

      Dear Reader,

      Ever fall in love with someone at first sight? Well, I did. I fell in love with the character of Uncle Jake when he came to life in Where Love Grows, the first book I wrote about the nefarious Richard Murphy. I couldn’t let Uncle Jake go without justice, and his nephew Brandon seemed to me the perfect hero to help him get that justice.

      Who should Brandon’s heroine be, though? What woman was feisty enough to take him down a peg or two? And what chasm could be almost too big for Brandon to negotiate in order to win his happily-ever-after?

      I discovered that heroine to be not a Southern girl at all, but one who is far different in mind-set from me. She proved to be a challenge from day one, mainly because she isn’t Southern. I’ve come to the conclusion that we Southern women view the world—and our men—from a unique perspective. Love, however, is universal!

      I hope you enjoy Brandon and Penelope’s story. Let me know via my Web site, www.cynthiareese.net.

       Cynthia Reese

       Not on Her Own

       Cynthia Reese

      MILLS & BOON

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       ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Cynthia Reese lives with her husband and their daughter in south Georgia, along with their two dogs, three cats and however many strays show up for morning muster. She has been scribbling since she was knee-high to a grasshopper and reading even before that. A former journalist, teacher and college English instructor, she also enjoys cooking, traveling and photography when she gets the chance. Not on Her Own is her third book.

      To two very special women:

       to Laura Shin, for making my dreams come true,

       and to my mom, who battled back against the

       odds and is with me still.

       May these women have the best

       that life can offer them.

      This book would not be a reality without the intensive help I received from my wonderful editor, Victoria Curran. She literally saved this project. I’d also like to thank my sister, Donna, for helping me through the early planning stages, and my critique partners, Tawna Fenske, Cindy Miles, Stephanie Bose and Nelsa Roberto. Thanks also to my dad, who helped answer some of the technical aspects of welding, and to Tawna and her friends Larie and Minta for helping me with how Oregonians plan weddings—

       all errors are mine!

      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 ONE

       N O GOOD DEED ever goes unpunished, and Brandon Wilkes, who’d sworn to serve and protect the good people of Brazelton County, Georgia, was living proof of that.

      “You sure? Brandon, are you positively sure?”

      Brandon clamped his jaw shut, trying not, in his effort to get to work on time, to lose his patience with Prentice O’Keefe. The man had the comprehension of an eight-year-old, and the comic-book-violence imagination to go with it.

      “Prentice, I swear. No aliens are going to come down here and get you and take you back to their planet. It was just a movie. Okay? Just make-believe.”

      “But they could, couldn’t they? I mean, they were big, Brandon and…” Here Prentice’s lower lip trembled. “Scary. Bad scary.”

      Prentice’s older sister, Ella, pushed open the raggedy screen door. “Prentice, he’s told you that there’s no such thing as aliens! Now why can’t you believe him? Man’s got to get to work and he’s come all this way out of town to tell you not to believe such garbage!”

      “It’s okay, Ella,” Brandon said, suppressing an urge to look at his watch. His boss might not agree that reassuring Prentice justified Brandon’s being late, but Brandon knew, for Ella’s sake, it was important. “Coming by here was on my way