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Jeremy felt bliss spread to every part of his body…into his soul.
Her eyes were closed, and her lovely face glowed. He brushed her curls from her face and kissed her brow, her temple, unable to stop touching her.
For the first time in his life, his body had gone beyond the command of his mind. Odd, but he didn’t feel a need for caution, as he usually did when a relationship threatened to become too intense. Instead, a welter of emotions coursed through him and he tried to sort them all out.
Tenderness?
Yeah.
Wonder?
That, too.
Confusion?
Definitely.
Dear Reader,
It is so difficult to leave a family, even a made-up one, whose lives I have been writing about for more than a year. From my own extended family as well as my husband’s, I enjoy watching our young ones grow up and flex their wings, while they establish careers and find their special person. I just never get tired of a complicated (as all matters of the heart tend to be) love story and seeing the hero/heroine coming to grips with their personal demons as well as learning to trust their hearts… Uh-oh, I’m getting all choked up. Anybody got a hankie?
Best,
A Place to Call Home
Laurie Paige
LAURIE PAIGE
“One of the nicest things about writing romances is researching locales, careers and ideas. In the interest of authenticity, most writers will try anything…once.” Along with her writing adventures, Laurie has been a NASA engineer, a past president of the Romance Writers of America, and is a mother and a grandmother. She was twice a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist for Best Traditional Romance and has won awards from Romantic Times BOOKreviews for Best Silhouette Special Edition and Best Silhouette, in addition to appearing on the USA TODAY bestseller list. Recently resettled in Northern California, Laurie is looking forward to whatever experiences her next novel will provide.
Dedicated to all those who have reached a certain
age, in which case it’s “about the diamonds.”
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 One
Zia Peters couldn’t have been more startled when the familiar voice of Jeremy Aquilon greeted her outside the Residential Hotel of Vernal, Utah, as she climbed wearily out of her compact car.
“Jeremy,” she said blankly, staring as if she couldn’t quite recall who he was and managing to drop her keys and purse at the same time.
But of course she did know him. He was part of her “blended” family. When Jeremy’s uncle, Jeff, had taken in Jeremy and his two younger stepcousins—the cousins, a brother and sister, were underage and wards of the state—her mother had been assigned to the case…and ended up married to the orphans’ guardian.
That had been fourteen years ago. While her mother had fitted in perfectly with the Aquilons, Zia, at nineteen, hadn’t felt part of their family, or any family, not since her dad had walked out when she was four.
She summoned a smile as Jeremy stopped beside her. “What are you doing here?” she asked, the surprise obvious in her voice, not to mention other emotions she couldn’t define. She picked up her purse and tossed the keys inside.
“Waiting for you?” he suggested with a humorous lilt in his smooth baritone.
He had no idea how those words reached down and stirred a pot of turbulent emotion inside her. No one waited for her, and that was a fact. Chiding herself for the flash of self-pity, she maintained a pleasant expression, aware that his appearance was having a keen impact on her senses.
His hair gleamed shiny black in the sun as he ambled down the porch steps. The June breeze lifted the perpetual wave that curved over his forehead. The wayward lock looked silky soft as he brushed it to the side, unlike the hard, sinewy lines of his six-two body.
The playful wind also carried the scent of balsam and aftershave, as if he’d recently stepped out of the shower. His jawline, strong and angular, was smoothly shaved. An instinctive urge to test that smoothness had her drawing back in shock at the impulse.
His face was tanned from days working in the sun, his eyes were dark and he exuded a controlled masculinity, a quiet assurance that hinted at thoughts not spoken, depths not plumbed. All her friends had found him intriguing on the infrequent occasions when she and Jeremy had visited the Aquilon home at the same time during their college years.
As a civil engineer working for the state of Utah, he supervised the building of roads and bridges. She knew him as an unruffled solver of life’s problems, large or small. He’d come to the rescue of his cousins when he’d hardly been more than a boy himself, and he’d helped her through a rough patch once, a time that she’d rather forget. Neither of them ever referred to it.
Sorrow and regret, mixed with shame, embarrassment and other feelings too painful to sort out, flashed through her.
She shoved aside the emotions and popped open the trunk of her car. Matching his amused tone, she quipped, “Your crystal ball works better than mine. I wasn’t sure what time I was going to make it in due to all the road construction going on.”
“It’s summer. We have to get as much done as possible.”
He shrugged and reached past her to lift out her largest piece of luggage as if it weighed no more than her overnight case, which she removed from the trunk. He also took the medium one before she could grab it, his arm brushing hers as he did.
“Seriously, how did you know I was coming today?” she asked.
“Seriously,” he replied, still with the note of humor, “your mom called just before I left the office. She said you’d called on your cell phone and reported you were about thirty miles from town but stuck in traffic. She was worried you wouldn’t get in before dark. I told her the delay wasn’t more than fifteen minutes.” He paused. “I said I’d make sure you arrived okay.”
His gaze took in the last rays of sunlight on the western horizon before returning to her.
Suppressing annoyance that her mother had thought it necessary to contact Jeremy and ask him to check on her, she said brightly, “I’m fine.” She hesitated, then added, “I thought you were working on a bridge in the Desolation Canyon area.”
She knew he had a cabin near town, one he’d bought three years ago and was remodeling as he got time. Normally, he lived in an RV or temporary barracks at the construction site while on a job. Her new position as the county curriculum director would keep her busy at the school headquarters in town. She figured they wouldn’t run into each other often.
“Do