Led into Temptation. Cara Summers

wore a suit, and in addition to a briefcase, she carried the same enormous tote bag everywhere. She’d even had it with her when he’d talked to her on the ferry.

      “Ian.” At the memory, Dane straightened in his chair. “There is something that you can look into for me.”

      “I’m all ears.”

      “I spoke briefly with Naomi on the ferry just as we were about to disembark. We didn’t exchange names or anything. Just a few casual words between strangers. But she thought she knew me. It shook her up. She asked if I’d been a priest at that boarding school she went to in France. Do you think you can dig up something on that?”

      “Is the Pope Catholic? I’ll be in touch. And if things start to heat up on the island, let me know. I’ll gladly provide backup.”

      “Will do.” After repocketing his cell phone, Dane stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. There was no one better at digging up information than Ian. With his brother’s help, Dane had no doubt that they would locate their younger sibs very soon. The little ones had been four and two on the day their mother had died and their life as a family had ended.

      Dane put his sunglasses on and gazed out at the sea. Sharon MacFarland had been twenty-eight when her life had been snuffed out, a year younger than he was now. He remembered her as a good mother. She’d loved them. The problem was she’d had a dream that one day she’d find her Prince Charming. And Lord knows, she’d looked for him. Persistence had been Sharon MacFarland’s middle name. He and his three other siblings all had different fathers, and none of them had turned out to be the prince his mother was looking for.

      A tingle of awareness moved through him. And Dane knew before he raised his eyes to the balcony that Naomi would be there. The moment that he looked at her, the awareness sharpened and he felt an irresistible pull.

      Before he was even conscious of the decision, he rose from his chair and moved closer to the edge of the open courtyard to get a clearer view.

      She stood at a waist-high railing, looking out at the sea. Though he couldn’t see them, he knew what her legs looked like, and he recalled the strength and athleticism in the way she moved. If he closed his eyes, he could recall every detail of the features that had been captured in her photo on King and Fairchild Web site. Gray-green eyes, pale skin with just a sprinkling of freckles, a straight, narrow nose, strong cheekbones and a chin that hinted at stubbornness.

      But there was something different about her today. She had the same serious look on her face that she’d worn for the past two weeks. But he sensed less tension. Her shoulders were more relaxed and her hands rested on the balcony rather than gripping it.

      That was when it struck him. Her hair—that was different, too. It fell loose to her shoulders, and the late-afternoon sun haloed it around her head. That had to be why he’d never noted the fiery red highlights before. His eyes narrowed then, focusing on her face. Her lips were moving. Not even a hint of a sound drifted to him. Was she whispering? Praying?

      For a moment a vivid image flashed into his mind. She was in his arms, her cheek pressed against his, her breath hot in his ear. She was whispering to him. His blood heated, his pulse raced. He couldn’t make out her words above the pounding of his heart. Then her eyes shifted suddenly to him, and her gaze moved slowly up his body. He hadn’t thought it possible for his body to grow any harder, but it did.

      When her eyes finally locked on his, there was a moment—an instant, he would convince himself later—when he couldn’t think of anything, anyone but her. And he barely blocked the urge to walk into the courtyard and climb up the stone wall to her balcony.

      The thought was so ridiculous that it cleared his mind immediately. Who did he think he was? A comic book hero? Or Shakespeare’s hormone-driven Romeo?

      Still, he wasn’t the one who broke the spell by walking away. It was Naomi Brightman who turned from the railing and disappeared into her room.

      2

      THE MOMENT NAOMI entered the suite she and her sisters shared, she felt a bit more of her tension ease. Lunch and champagne with Avery had been fun, but this was really where she wanted to be.

      Slipping out of her shoes and dropping her tote bag on the bed, she moved to the love seats facing each other in front of a bay window. A gift basket sat on the small coffee table. Opening it, she found a box of candy, a business card from the village of Belle Bay and two notes.

      The first one was from Reese.

      Naomi,

      Sorry we can’t be there. Jillian and I have asked Avery to take very good care of you. The one thing we’re sure of is that you’re going to get past this. All of our lives, we’ve seen you set goals for yourself and meet them. We can’t wait to see what you’ll do next. The chocolate is to inspire you to indulge yourself.

      And don’t forget what you always told me when

      I was small and didn’t think I would ever reach my goal. “Little steps. Just take little steps.”

      Love,

      Reese

      Naomi blinked, the back of her eyes burning. She knew without opening the small box that it would contain the special chocolate truffles Reese had created as a trademark confection for Haworth House. Chocolates were Naomi’s weakness, so she rationed her consumption. In a stressful job, it paid off to eat healthy. Her youngest sister had always considered chocolate good therapy. Then she reread the note. We can’t wait to see what you’ll do next.

      But what if the thing she wanted most was to go back to her old job and her old life—before Michael Davenport? Little steps were good advice if she just knew where she was headed….

      With a sigh, she picked up the next note.

      Naomi,

      Avery is always telling me “When a door closes, another door opens.” I hope that by coming to Haworth House you’ll figure out how to open that door. The place has opened up a whole new career for me.

      The business card is from a new boutique in the village called Discoveries. I was thinking that you might want a different wardrobe for when you decide to open that door. And, hey, shopping is the best way I know to destress and get your mind ready to explore new paths.

      Love,

      Jillian

      Blinking again, Naomi studied the card. Discoveries, owned and operated by Molly Pepperman, promised the latest in fashions.

      Obviously, her sisters and Avery were on the same page in pushing her toward a fresh start. And she agreed with them in part. She wanted to discover who the new Naomi Brightman was going to be herself.

      But so far she didn’t have a clue. And how could she be positive that she wanted to leave the old Naomi Brightman behind? After all, they’d traveled a long road together. How was she supposed to change from the person she’d been all her life into someone … she didn’t even know?

       Little steps.

      Her gaze fell on the huge tote bag she carried with her everywhere. If she wanted a new beginning, she could start by getting rid of her tote. She’d had it since she’d started college nine years ago, and it held everything that was absolutely essential to her life. Most people used a filing cabinet, but she carted that tote around like some sort of a security blanket. Or obsession.

      Periodically—say, once a year—she’d sort through it, but almost always when she discarded something, she stuffed in something else she wanted to keep at her fingertips.

      And it weighed a ton. Hefting it up, she turned it over and dumped the contents out on the bed. Then she simply stared. There was a day planner and three notebooks—she never went into meetings or court without one. Then there was her makeup bag, an extra pair of earrings, a change purse, a wallet and all of the little surprise gifts Michael had given her in the six months they’d