A Certain Hope. Lenora Worth
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“I reckon I’m still waiting for the right woman to come along.”
“Think you’ll ever find her?” April asked.
Reed leaned close. “Oh, I found the right woman a long time ago. But I’m still waiting for her to come around to my terms.”
April’s heart thumped hard against her ribs. Her hands trembled so much, she had to hold on to one of the mugs in front of her. “What… what are your terms, Reed?”
His voice whispered with a rawhide scrape against her ear. “I only have one stipulation actually. I want that woman to love me with all her heart. I want her to love me, only me, enough to stay by my side for a lifetime and beyond.”
April looked up at him then and saw the love there in his stalking cat eyes—the love and the challenge. “You don’t ask for much, do you, cowboy?”
LENORA WORTH
grew up in a small Georgia town and decided in the fourth grade that she wanted to be a writer. But first, she married her high school sweetheart, then moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Taking care of their baby daughter at home while her husband worked at night, Lenora discovered the world of romance novels and knew that’s what she wanted to write. And so she began.
A few years later, the family settled in Shreveport, Louisiana, where Lenora continued to write while working as a marketing assistant. After the birth of her second child, a boy, she decided to pursue her dream full-time. In 1993, Lenora’s hard work and determination finally paid off with that first sale.
“I never gave up, and I believe my faith in God helped get me through the rough times when I doubted myself,” Lenora says. “Each time I start a new book, I say a prayer, asking God to give me the strength and direction to put the words to paper. That’s why I’m so thrilled to be a part of Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line, where I can combine my faith in God with my love of romance. It’s the best combination.”
A Certain Hope
Lenora Worth
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
—Hebrews 11:1
To the Ricks family—Barbara, Bob and especially
Jordan. You all hold a special place in my heart.
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
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
You’ve got mail.
Summer Maxwell motioned to her cousin Autumn as she opened the letter in her computer. “Hey, it’s from April.”
Autumn hurried over to the teakwood desk by the window. The Manhattan skyline was etched in sun-dappled shades of steel and gray in front of them as together they read the latest e-mail from their cousin and roommate, April Maxwell.
I’m at work, but I’ll be leaving for the airport in a few minutes. I’m so nervous. I’m worried about Daddy, of course. And I’m worried about seeing Reed again. What if he hates me? Never mind, we all know he does hate me. Please say prayers for my sweet daddy, and for safe travel. And that my BMW makes it there ahead of me in one piece.
“That’s our April,” Summer said, smiling, her blue eyes flashing. “Her prayer requests are always so practical.”
“Especially when they come to that car of hers,” Autumn said through the wisp of auburn bangs hanging in her eyes. “She’s not so worried about the car, though, I think. She’s got a lot more to deal with right now, and that’s her way of dealing with it. She’s not telling us the whole story.”
Summer tapped out a reply.
We’re here, sugar. And we will say lots of prayers for Uncle Stuart. Tell him we love him so much. Keep in touch. Oh, and let us know how things go with Reed, too. He doesn’t hate you. He’s just angry with you. Maybe it’s time for him to get over it already.
Summer signed off, then spun around in her chair to send her cousin a concerned look. “Of course, he’s been angry with her for about six years now.”
Reed Garrison brought his prancing gray-and-black-spotted Appaloosa to a skidding stop as a sleek black sports car zoomed up the long drive and shifted into Park.
“Steady, Jericho,” Reed said as he patted the gelding’s long neck. He held the reins tight as he walked the horse up to the sprawling stone-and-wood ranch house. “I’m just as anxious as you, boy,” he told the fidgeting animal. “Let’s go find out who’s visiting Mr. Maxwell on this fine spring day.”
Reed watched from his vantage point at the fence as a woman stepped out of the expensive two-seater convertible. But not just any woman, oh, no. This one was very different.
And suddenly very familiar.
Reed squinted in the late-afternoon sun, then sat back to take a huff of breath as he took in the sight of her.
April Maxwell.
It had been six long years since he’d seen her. Six years of torment and determination. Torment because he couldn’t forget her, determination because he had tried to do that very thing.
But April was, as ever, unforgettable.
And now she looked every bit the city girl she had become since she’d bolted and moved from the small town of Paris, Texas, to the big city of New York, New York, to take up residence with her two cousins, Summer and Autumn. Those three Maxwell cousins had a tight bond, each having been named for the seasons they were born in, each having been raised by close-knit relatives scattered all over east Texas, and each having enough ambition to want to get out of Texas right after finishing college to head east and seek their fortunes. Not that they needed any fortunes. They were all three blue-blooded Texas heiresses, born in the land of oil and cattle with silver spoons in their pretty little mouths. But that hadn’t been enough for those three belles, no sir. They’d wanted to take on the Big Apple. And they had, each finding satisfying work in their respective career choices. They now roomed together in Manhattan, or so he’d been told.
He hadn’t asked about April much, and Stuart Maxwell wasn’t the type of man to offer up much information. Stuart was a private man, and Reed was a silent man. It worked great for both of them while they each pined away for April.
Reed walked his horse closer, his nostrils flaring right along with Jericho’s, as he tested the wind for her perfume. He smelled it right away, and the memories assaulted him like soft magnolia petals on a warm summer night. April always smelled like a lily garden, all floral and sweet.
Only Reed knew she was anything but sweet.
Help me, Lord, he thought now as he watched her raise her head and glance around. She spotted him—he saw it in the way she held herself slightly at a distance—but she just stood there in her black short-sleeved dress and