KAREN TEMPLETON,

      a Waldenbooks bestselling author and RITA^® Award nominee, is the mother of five sons and living proof that romance and dirty diapers are not mutually exclusive terms. An Easterner transplanted to Albuquerque, New Mexico, she spends far too much time trying to coax her garden to yield roses and produce something resembling a lawn, all the while fantasizing about a weekend alone with her husband. Or at least an uninterrupted conversation.

      She loves to hear from readers, who may reach her by writing c/o Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001 New York, NY 10279, or online at www.karentempleton.com.

      To all my online buds at AOL and eHarlequin, who are always there, even at three in the morning, for solace, support and frequently a damn good laugh.

       Thanks for being the best “sisters” in the world.

      To Jack and the boys, smooches for understanding why sometimes I really prefer when you’re all somewhere else.

      And to Gail C., as always.

      Acknowledgments

      Many thanks to Lynda Sandoval Cooper, who helped me see things from a cop’s perspective.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 1

      “Ewww…why are we stopping here?”

      Jenna Stanton cut the engine to her Corolla, then glanced over at the sour-faced thirteen-year-old girl she loved with all her heart. Usually. Ignoring the flood of terror now threatening to expel the contents of her stomach, Jenna forced a smile, wincing when her lower lip cracked. From behind her seat, Meringue let out a plaintive mew, protesting her incarceration in her carrier.

      “This is the place I told you about,” Jenna said, still gripping the steering wheel. “Where we’re going to spend the month.”

      Blair shoved a tangled strand of copper-red hair behind one recently-pierced ear and crooked her neck to get a better look at the Double Arrow Guest Lodge. “It’s a motel,” she said, her words laced with a disgust usually reserved for fried liver and Disney movies.

      “We’re not staying in this part. There are cottages down by the lake.”

      That got a “yeah, right” look which immediately settled into a scowl. Not that Jenna blamed her; from this angle, the Double Arrow looked like any other two-bit motel—single story, beige stucco, utilitarian doors and windows. Maybe twelve units that Jenna could see, only three with cars parked out front. The cottages she’d have to take on faith, since they weren’t visible from here.

      Still, the place wasn’t quite as puke-worthy as her niece would have the world believe. Quivering shadows from dozens of ashes and cottonwoods softened the stark, unimaginative architecture, caressed the occasional plot of perfectly mowed grass and tubs of vibrant annuals. The air was still and hot, yes, but the silence was thick and sweet and luscious, punctuated only by the occasional brilliant trill of some bird or other. From what little Jenna had seen, Haven, Oklahoma was already living up to its name. On the surface, at least.

      “It’s actually very pretty, don’t you think?”

      “It’s boring.”

      Jenna squelched her sigh, as well as the urge to squirm from the perspiration seeping through her bra. “Oh, Blair…you’d say any place with a population of less than a million looked boring.”

      Resentful blue eyes zinged to Jenna’s as Blair hooked her thin arms across a still-flat chest. She’d been a pretty baby—not to mention a cheerful one—but the onset of adolescence was not being kind, either physically or emotionally. Her hair was too fine, her legs too long, her teeth held prisoner by several thousand dollars’ worth of intricate engineering. And the poor child had more freckles than there were lobbyists on Capitol Hill.

      “I don’t get it,” Blair said, not quite whining but close enough to set Jenna’s teeth on edge. “You always set your books in D.C. Always. Now you have to set one in Oklahoma?”

      This would make…let’s see…at least the fiftieth time they’d had this conversation since March, when Jenna had realized exactly how limited her options were. Plucking at her damp T-shirt—the car’s air conditioner had given out around Nashville—she tried another smile. “I told you. I was getting burned out. I needed a change—”

      “What am I supposed to do for a whole month while you write for ten hours a day?” Tears glistened in Blair’s eyes, and Jenna’s heart cracked. Guilt had practically eaten a hole in Jenna’s heart already that she couldn’t tell her niece the truth. Not yet, anyway. “I don’t know anybody here! I mean, God, why didn’t you send me to camp or something?”

      Jenna swiped a hand through her own wind-tangled mop, still smelling slightly