Seven-Day Love Story. Nikki Logan

      About the Author

      

      NIKKI LOGAN lives next to a string of protected wetlands in Western Australia, with her long-suffering partner and a menagerie of furred, feathered and scaly mates. She studied film and theatre at university, and worked for years in advertising and film distribution before finally settling down in the wildlife industry. Her romance with nature goes way back, and she considers her life charmed, given she works with wildlife by day and writes fiction by night—the perfect way to combine her two loves. Nikki believes that the passion and risk of falling in love are perfectly mirrored in the danger and beauty of wild places. Every romance she writes contains an element of nature, and if readers catch a waft of rich earth or the spray of wild ocean between the pages she knows her job is done.

       Seven–Day Love Story

       Nikki Logan

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Dear Reader,

       If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If it doesn’t…

      I was excited and honoured to be chosen as one of the New Voices for Mills & Boon, and I knew I wanted to write something special. A year ago I’d had the idea of a heroine-turned-hermit recovering from emotional trauma, but I wanted Jayne and Todd’s romance to bloom over a very short time-frame—feeding Todd’s fears that their feelings couldn’t be genuine and luring Jayne out of her emotional cocoon much more quickly than she’s comfortable with.

      A novella is the perfect medium to tell a Seven-Day Love Story.

      I hope you enjoy the wonderful, fictional community of Banjo’s Ridge and all the characters in it (human and otherwise). We should all have a psychological Banjo’s Ridge to retreat to when the going gets tough. And a hero like Todd to come and find us there.

      To anyone who has beaten fear—or is still fighting it—I dedicate this story to you.

      Nikki Logan

       Acknowledgement

      Special acknowledgement to Western Australians, Dr Kingsley Dixon and Gavin Flematti, who spent years untangling the thousands of chemicals in bush-smoke to discover which one triggered seed germination. Their ground-breaking work is fictionally referenced in this story.

      CHAPTER ONE

       Friday

      â€˜EASY now, big fella …’

      It couldn’t have been simple, keeping his voice level when four sets of fangs were flashing and glinting at head height, but the uniformed man standing at the bottom of Jayne Morrow’s front steps did manage to keep the waver from his voice.

      Just.

      She stared at him, anticipating the numbness that would take over right about now—when strangers were around. She’d become used to its intrusion, even welcomed it; numbness was far better than the knee-crumbling anxiety she would have felt two years ago, back in New York.

      The dogs twitched and trembled at her feet. Not one of them was a natural leader; if they were, they’d still be roaming the wilds of the Queensland hinterlands, scavenging an existence. But all four of them rewarded her for taking them in by stepping up now, in response to the presence of the stranger.

      His eyes stayed glued on the largest of the dogs, Oliver. Jayne whispered her quell command and waited for four canine bottoms to lower to the floor. It took an age, but they eventually complied, sliding their lips back down over their teeth. One by one they relaxed, Oliver last.

      â€˜Thank you.’ Down below her, the stranger’s body sagged slightly and he stepped forward onto the first tread of the house steps. Oliver leapt straight back to guard position, issuing a guttural rumbling.

      â€˜Ollie, no,’ she whispered to the brave dog.

      The man slid his hands into plain view, left and right of his tense body. ‘How about we just talk from here?’

      Good idea. ‘Who are you?’ Her voice was steady, thank goodness.

      â€˜Todd Blackwood. I was hoping the Shire would have rung ahead to tell you I was coming.’ His Australian voice was rougher than the rocky path leading to Jayne’s doorway.

      â€˜No.’

      â€˜Ah. Then I’ve surprised you.’ His eyes dropped to the hand wrapped around the largest dog’s collar as if it were a lifeline. ‘And frightened you. I’m sorry.’

      She tossed her head back and loosened her fingers slightly to let blood leach into the whitened knuckles. ‘I’m not frightened—’ such a liar! ‘—just curious. I don’t get many visitors.’

      He glanced again at the mass of warm bodies at her feet. ‘No doubt.’

      â€˜They’re just doing their job.’

      A gentle smile transformed his face. ‘Me too. I’m here to discuss them with you. I’m the Shire Ranger.’

      A ranger was as good as the police out in these parts. His face looked entirely non-threatening, his body as casual as a man being stared down by four wired dogs could be. Even so, something in her itched to run inside and lock the door. She forced herself to resist the impulse.

      â€˜Perhaps if …’ He glanced up at the dogs again and lowered his considerable height to a squat. The dogs’ demeanour changed immediately, and three out of four bottoms started to wiggle. Jazmine, Fergus and Dougal had no problems, moving instantly from quivering tension to comfortable acceptance. Not Oliver. He was still rigid with suspicion.

      The show of trust from the stranger brought Jayne a hint of confidence. If he was here for no good he wouldn’t be putting himself at risk. She wrapped her hand more firmly around Ollie’s collar and then spoke softly to the others.

      â€˜Go.’

      It only took one word and the three smaller dogs broke rank and leapt down the steps in an explosion of investigatory licking. The Ranger kept his chin high, away from the errant tongues, and let them rifle into his jacket and at his trouser legs with their noses. It was like the canine version of a full body frisk.

      â€˜Okay.’ He chuckled, patting them individually on the shoulder, pushing back to his feet and taking all the fun a good five feet away from them. ‘Now they’re more like a group of kids on too much sugar.’

      Jayne fought a smile. The image was very apt for the three excited dogs, but not for the little black thundercloud at her feet that hadn’t had a whole lot of joy in his life. She gave Oliver’s silky ears a rub. He whined his gratitude. One sharp whistle from her and all three loose dogs returned to heel and she was able to wrestle them inside. Still within reach if she needed them, but not tripping her underfoot. It gave the man at the base of her stairs some breathing space.

      He looked like a ranger, but he was put together like a lumberjack. Out here maybe there wasn’t much difference? ‘You said you were on official business?’

      He frowned at the way she still hovered, glued to her veranda. ‘It’s about the dogs…’

      Her grip on Ollie’s collar doubled. ‘What about them?’

      â€˜You have four. Shire regulations only allow three per property.’

      Her every instinct was to run. To protect. But she’d learned to fight that. She took a deep breath.