Straight From The Heart Read online

  Table of Contents

  Two passionate novellas and the story of the author’s own happily-ever-after romance.

  Straight from the Heart

  Straight from the Heart

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Winds of Change

  Love at First Sight

  About The Author

  Two passionate novellas and the story of the author’s own happily-ever-after romance.

  STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART

  Kimberly Harden is a recently divorced mom just looking for a quiet weekend at a friend’s cabin, only to find that a mistake in arrangements has brought her husband’s divorce attorney there too. Sexy lawyer Stephen Wright was secretly on Kimberly’s side, and when a sudden flood strands them in the cabin together, he decides to prove that he has her best interests at heart.

  WINDS OF CHANGE

  The love between Dorry Sims and Luke James is strong enough to best the Wyoming wilderness where they’ve made their home. But a greedy neighbor wants their ranch and Dorry, too, and he’ll get rid of Luke anyway he can, including framing Luke for a crime Luke didn’t commit.

  LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

  Janelle Taylor shares the story of falling in love with her husband, Michael. A true-life treat for romance fans.

  Straight from the Heart

  by

  Janelle Taylor

  Bell Bridge Books

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Bell Bridge Books

  PO BOX 300921

  Memphis, TN 38130

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-181-4

  Print ISBN: 78-1-61194-165-4

  Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

  Straight from the Heart © 1997

  Winds of Change © 1996

  Love at First Sight © 1985

  Winds of Change was originally published in a mass market edition as part of the LOVE’S LEGACY anthology from Leisure Books.

  Straight from the Heart was originally published in mass market paperback as part of the SUMMER LOVE anthology from Zebra Books.

  Love at First Sight was originally published in hardcover as part of the MY FIRST REAL ROMANCE anthology from Henry Holt & Co.

  Printed and bound in the United States of America.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  We at BelleBooks enjoy hearing from readers.

  Visit our websites – www.BelleBooks.com and www.BellBridgeBooks.com.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover design: Debra Dixon

  Interior design: Hank Smith

  Photo credits:

  Heart ribbon (manipulated) © Robertsrob |Dreamstime.com

  :Mhs:01:

  Straight from the Heart

  One

  Thunk! Ka-bang!

  Kimberly Harden clamped onto the suddenly spinning steering wheel and held hard as her little compact shimmied through a yawning rut outside Betsy’s rustic mountain cabin. Rain poured so heavily over the windshield she felt as if she were in a car wash. Kim held her breath, her heart hammering painfully. She half expected some new awful thing to happen. When all remained still except for the harsh tattoo of the rain on the roof of the car, she exhaled on a deep sigh.

  She’d made it here in one piece!

  A smile quirked her lips. So, okay, the weather was a total nightmare. So what? She needed this weekend away like she’d never needed anything before. Life could be pure hell, and since her less-than-amicable divorce, she’d experienced that side of it more than she’d believed possible.

  Her ex-husband was a lying louse. The vision of him gloating in the courtroom as his attorney denounced her in the most wickedly awful and untruthful terms was so indelibly etched in Kimberly’s mind that it could still bring tears to her eyes and quicken her heartbeat.

  And yes, she’d won custody of Bobby because all of Alan’s lies had proven to be just that—lies. But those untruths had scraped against her heart and soul, leaving little wounds which couldn’t quite seem to heal over.

  Digging in the backseat for her bag, Kim tried not to think of the custody trial. There were so many things about it that still hurt. Her disillusionment was complete. And it certainly hadn’t helped when Stephen Wright of Jackson, Wright and Smith Associates—and an extremely attractive divorced father to boot!—had taken Alan’s case. Okay, so he wasn’t the actual trial attorney—rat-faced Robert Jackson won those honors. But it had been Stephen who’d referred Alan to Robert. Stephen who’d believed all Alan’s lies. Stephen whose green eyes had made Kim drift into romantic school girlish dreams that still had the power to make her blush.

  “Beast,” she muttered between her teeth.

  It was good to get away from all that. Darn good.

  When Betsy, Kim’s good friend and mother of Bobby’s best friend, Chad, had offered a free weekend at her parents’ cabin, Kimberly had jumped at the chance. She knew the cabin. Remote, yet cozy. Miles away from civilization, but close enough to make the trip back to Portland in half a day. Kim had been here before, and all her memories were warm and wonderful, the kind that brought a smile to her lips and a sense of well-being that was soul deep. Powerful medicine. A much needed tonic.

  To hell with Alan, she thought as she gathered her purse with her overnight bag and climbed from the car. Now all she had to do was negotiate this terrible weather until she got to the front door. Then she was home free.

  Placing her bunchy leather purse atop her head, she ran for the front door. A light shone from somewhere inside, dim and yellow, and Kimberly’s radar went on alert. Oh, no! Was someone here? She was supposed to have the place to herself.

  The tail end of a red Jeep Cherokee peeked from the side of the house. Heart sinking, Kimberly wondered what was up. Raising her hand to knock, she was startled when the door swung open on its own, and a man stood silhouetted in the light.

  “I’m sorry . . .” she murmured, stepping back.

  His intake of breath was a warning, standing the hair on her arms on end. “Mrs. Harden?” he asked in that rough, smooth voice she’d come to loathe.

  Alan’s attorney! Stephen Wright!

  “Oh, my God!” Kimberly, reacting on pure instinct, dropped everything and ran for her blue compact as if the devil himself were at her heels.

  A series of swear words crossed Stephen’s mind, unspoken but vehemently uttered nonetheless. What was she doing here? “Wait!” he yelled. When she didn’t heed him, he ran through the pouring deluge, catching up with her at the car door. He made the foolish mistake of trying to grab her arm. She jabbed an elbow in his solar plexus that turned his next words into a sharp gasp. “Kimberly!”

  “Don’t touch me,” she shot back. “Let go!”

  Since he was practically doubled over and clutching his chest, her words were unnecessary. “I’m—not—”

  “Well, you were. I can’t believe you’re here! What are you doing? Stay away from me.”

  “Don’t worry,” he managed to answer, annoyed. He drew a deep breath and glared at her. “I was just trying to keep you from getting soaked to the skin.”

  “Too late.”

  “Yeah, well, whose fault is that?”

  “Stay—there,” she said, when he shifted his weight from one foot to the oth
er.

  Stephen shook his head. Unbelievable! Throwing up his hands in mock surrender, he glared at her through the curtain of rain. Instantly his mood lifted. She looked like the proverbial drowned rat.

  “What are you smiling at?” she demanded suspiciously.

  “You,” he admitted.

  “Well, I’m glad you see something funny in this.”

  “I do. As a matter of fact, I think this is a damn riot. I came up here for a weekend of sun and fun in the mountains, and look—a summer storm like you’ve never seen! And we’re both standing out here as if there’s not a torrential downpour likely to drown us in ten minutes flat!”

  Her hand was on the car door. She clenched it over the handle and pulled several times. Water poured over her as if the heavens above were already flooded and spilling the overflow onto Mother Earth. “I’m locked out,” Kim said.

  Stephen threw back his head and laughed. Her car keys were in her purse which she’d thrown down just outside the cabin door. “Well, then come inside. You can dry out, and we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

  “Oh, no! I’m leaving. I’ll get my keys.”

  “You can’t leave,” he told her.

  That earned him a glare that could cut through steel. “Watch me!”

  “The roads are flooded at the base of the mountain,” he explained. “They closed them about an hour ago.”

  “They?” she repeated blankly, blinking against the rivulets of water that ran down her face. Her blond bangs pressed limp and dark against her forehead, and raindrops starred her lashes.

  Stephen scowled to himself. He’d known Kimberly for several years, and he’d always found her attractive. A small surge of warmth ran through him, then his good mood rapidly evaporated. “The Highway Patrol. This flash storm’s created a hellish mess. I take it you weren’t listening to the radio.”

  Kimberly didn’t hear him. “Flooded? What does that mean?”

  “Well, in layman’s terms—” he began, but she cut him off.

  “Are you saying I’m—stranded—here?” She thrust her bangs from her face, staring at him in dismay. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  “For a while, at least.”

  “What about you?” she asked, aghast.

  “Well . . .”

  Her dawning look of horror said she’d grasped the consequences. “You can’t be here. You can’t be staying here. One of us has to leave!”

  “There’s nowhere to go,” he pointed out reasonably.

  “There has to be. I won’t—I can’t stay here. We can’t be here together,” she added, as if he were completely dense and she was working hard to explain the situation.

  Stephen’s patience snapped. He could understand her hostility toward him, but it wasn’t helping anything. “Since I didn’t bring my ark with me, I’m stuck. Maybe you’ve got a better idea.”

  “Oh, funny.”

  “I’m going inside,” he said, turning away.

  He would have liked to grab her arm and propel her with him, but her harsh words and stubborn stance warned him not to come near her again. At the cabin, he glanced back. She was still standing in the deluge.

  His mouth clamped in irritation. He understood her frustration and anger and general dislike of him, but it didn’t make it any easier.

  Swearing softly to himself, he propped open the door with a small wooden block, a silent invitation. Glancing up, he saw her shoulders slump as she sagged against her car, and in a wave of memory that last terrible scene flickered across the screen of his mind.

  You don’t know anything about me, she railed at him in a whisper on the courtroom steps. People swarmed around them, parting as if they were an island in a stream. I will never forgive you or Alan for trying to separate me from my son. I didn’t believe there were people as cruel as you in this world but I believe it now . . .

  Gritting his teeth, Stephen walked to the river rock fireplace to warm his hands, wishing the heat from the spiraling flames would reach that cold, miserable spot in his soul. He could have reminded her that he hadn’t been the trial attorney, but the excuse had sounded so feeble he hadn’t been able to voice it. Instead, he’d taken the brunt of her anger and been only partially vindicated when she’d said even worse to Robert.

  Betsy had warned him he was making a mistake. “You don’t know Kim,” she’d said tartly as she gathered some papers from his desk and marched from his office. As his aide, she had complete knowledge of all his cases, and as his friend, free rein of her tongue.

  “I know her husband is a self-centered egotist, and that’s why I turned him over to Robert.”

  “If you know that about Alan, why do you believe what he says about Kim?”

  “I just don’t like liars, even when they lie for the right reasons.”

  “Kim’s no liar.”

  “You don’t think she’d lie to keep her son?”

  Betsy’s jaw tightened. “Any woman would lie to keep their children from a louse like Alan Harden! You don’t know the whole story.”

  “Then enlighten me,” he invited.

  Betsy had glared at him. She’d seemed about to say more, but then she’d looked at him in that motherly way that really got him and said instead, “It’s her story, and I’m not sure you’re the guy who should hear it.”

  He knew what that meant. His own failed marriage to Pauleen had everybody in Riverside, a small suburb of Portland, certain they knew what kind of man he was. It was his own fault. He should have blabbed about Pauleen’s problems to anyone who would listen, but he hadn’t. He’d let Pauleen spin her own web of lies because she’d given him Jason.

  Still, he’d needled Betsy. “Because her husband retained me as his lawyer?”

  “Because you’re a bit of a Neanderthal,” she had said with a smile. “Lovable, but a Neanderthal. Sorry, sweetie . . .”

  Warmed by the fire, Stephen’s soaked jeans steamed gently. It was way too warm for a fire, but with this blasted rain, it had seemed like a good idea. He glanced toward the open doorway. Sooner or later Kimberly Harden was going to have to walk across the threshold.

  Then what? he asked himself. And what’s she doing here?

  As he thought about it, another realization hit: there was only one bedroom in the cabin.

  “I don’t believe it,” Kim said aloud for about the twentieth time. It was incredible. Stephen Wright was here. At the cabin. At Betsy’s cabin.

  And she was stuck here!

  “No, no, no!” Kimberly yanked on the car door handle’ again, wishing by some miracle it would open by the sheer power of her will. She did not want to have to go back to the cabin, not even for her keys. But there was nothing else to do.

  Bypassing ruts filled with muddy rainwater, Kimberly slogged her way through the welcoming doorway. The aroma of burning oak and fir reached toward her. In fact, the whole room glowed with steamy warmth; a cozy retreat in the mountains away from the pressures of work and the events of the past eighteen months. If it hadn’t been for the man staring into the flickering flames and pulsating embers she would have found the haven she’d been dreaming of ever since Betsy offered her this weekend away. But the wide expanse of Stephen Wright’s shoulders and the rain-darkened strands of his thick brown hair were an unwelcome intrusion.

  Blast! she thought furiously. I could wring his conniving neck!

  “You probably ought to change,” he said without turning around. “You’re soaked to the skin.”

  Kimberly was so livid she couldn’t find her voice for a moment. “No, thank you,” she said firmly. “I’m just fine.”

  Now he turned, his eyes raking over her without much interest. “I came in the same way.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Without a coat.”

  It took a considerable amount of will not to look down at the summer blouse and khaki pants she’d thrown on before she tore out of town this afternoon. Sure, it had started to rain but it was summer, after all, and it wa
sn’t cold or anything. She’d figured it would let up. And yes, she knew showers were in the forecast, but tough. She was in “vacation mode,” and with every mile that passed beneath the wheels of her car her mood had lifted. The weather hadn’t bothered her at all.

  Her blouse was now drenched pale blue linen. Glancing down, she was embarrassed to see her bra defined as clearly as if she were part of a Madonna video. Snatching up her suitcase she bolted for the one small bedroom, biting back a cry of annoyance at the sight of his black bag tossed on the quilted spread of the only bed. He’d carelessly thrown a shirt and slacks and pair of jeans across the spread, and a faint musky scent of male cologne invaded everything.

  Kimberly quickly changed into a black short-sleeved sweater and her own jeans. Removing her socks, she stood barefoot against the plank floor, wishing absurdly that she hadn’t spent the time the evening before painting her nails. They looked so, so, feminine.

  How could this happen? she asked herself.

  Betsy! For a wild moment Kim wondered if Betsy had planned this encounter. She was always on Kim to meet a new man, have a few laughs, get out of her routine of work, work, work.

  “You’ve got a great kid, there,” Betsy told her one afternoon. “And you’re a terrific mom.”

  “But . . .” Kimberly filled in.

  “But you’ve got to make time for other recreation as well. You’re a secretary by day, and a mom by night, and you’re the best. Now it’s time to look a little further.”

  “How much further?” Kim was leery.

  “You need a date.”

  A date . . . Just thinking about it made Kim shudder. When she and Alan had first split up, she’d actually entertained the idea of going out to dinner with another man, enjoying a quiet drink or a movie, or just a stretch of fun, uncomplicated conversation. She’d looked at other men, but was too inhibited to think of actually “dating” them. Her one mistake was telling Betsy what she thought of Stephen Wright.