www.millsandboon.co.uk

      KATE LITTLE

      claims to have lots of experience with romance—“the fictional kind, that is,” she is quick to clarify. She has been both an author and an editor of romance fiction for over fifteen years. She believes that a good romance will make the reader experience all the tension, thrills and agony of falling madly, deeply and wildly in love. She enjoys watching the characters in her books go crazy for each other, but hates to see the blissful couple disappear when it’s time for them to live happily ever after. In addition to writing romance novels, Kate also writes fiction and nonfiction for young adults. She lives on Long Island, New York, with her husband and daughter.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      One

      He couldn’t say why he had returned.

      A premonition perhaps. A need to touch home base before flying on to greater heights, a new job and a new life in New York City. His first position out of college, the first step in a career that looked bright and full of possibilities. He was due to start on Monday morning, his graduate degree in business in hand, the ink barely dry. He’d already moved his few possessions into a new apartment in Chelsea that he would share with a friend. Everything was set. But for some strange reason, Connor had felt the need to set foot on the Cape for a few days. To breathe the salty ocean-fresh air all day, and at night, linger on the porch of the old cottage that had barely changed since his boyhood.

      Since his mother’s death years ago, his father had kept everything in their small home the same. Connor often wished his mother had lived to see his graduation. She would have been so proud. Unlike his father, she had believed he could do anything with his life that he wanted to.

      Once she was gone, Connor had not come home very often. He and his father didn’t get along. Never had. Few questions were asked about Connor’s absence, no excuses necessary. There was nothing left for him here anymore, Connor thought as he drove along the winding road that led to the entrance of the Sutherland estate. Nothing but memories.

      He didn’t really know why he’d come home for the weekend. Or why he had accepted Charles Sutherland’s impromptu invitation to attend the party at the main house that night. Perhaps he’d accepted simply out of a feeling of obligation to Charles, who had been so generous to him in so many ways. That debt could never truly be repaid.

      The imposing sight of the Sutherland mansion at the end of the long curved driveway cut into his reverie and captured his full attention. The house was lit up like Grand Central Station, the portico bustling with guests as valets helped them emerge from shining luxury cars and long black limousines. He’d parked his own car at the end of the driveway, just in case the party became too tedious and he resorted to a quick getaway.

      But the moment he spotted Laurel Sutherland, he knew with utter certainty why he had come home.

      The instant her turquoise gaze met his—her expression, first shocked, then so very pleased—he understood. Her warm easy smile went right to his heart, like an arrow flying straight and true, striking its mark with bittersweet precision.

      She was surrounded by her guests, friends and family, the men in white dinner jackets, the women glittering with jewels and silken finery. Lauren herself, a vision in a summer gown of some filmy azure blue fabric, her tanned smooth shoulders bare, her skin flawless, her long golden hair pulled to one side with a jeweled clip, the rest floating over her shoulders as she moved across the softly lit patio to greet him.

      In her graceful form and the delicate lines of her face he saw a glimmer of the girl he had known so long ago. The brave comrade who had raced beside him on sunny beaches and through the dark, cool woods all summer long. His playmate, his friend, his kindred spirit.

      And yet, she was a woman now. A beautiful young woman in all her glory.

      The promise of her girlhood features fulfilled in a most exquisite way, he thought. Transformed from sweet innocence to alluring mystery, the high cheekbones, full lips and straight, delicate nose as perfectly formed as any famous face on the cover of a magazine. Yet, Laurel’s face glowed with something more, Connor thought. Her radiant spirit—the daring, stubborn streak of that spunky tomboy shining through, like a light from within.

      She held out her hand to him, the look in her eyes bright, excited and also relieved. As if, all this time, she had been waiting for him. Worried he wouldn’t arrive. But now he had come.

      And she felt contented. Completed.

      As he too felt, moving toward her.

      In a blinding bolt, the realization struck. This is why he had come. For Laurel. Of course. It seemed suddenly so obvious