About the Book
Everyone expects Rebecca Winston to marry her high school/college sweetheart, Garrett Langley. The problem is, the flame’s gone out on their romance. They’re still best of friends, but only friends. When Garrett’s father has a heart attack, his older brother Wyatt (an L.A. attorney) returns home for the first time in years. The attraction between Rebecca and Wyatt is immediate.
Can Rebecca expect her family and, especially, Garrett to understand that her desires have changed and turned toward Wyatt?
Can Wyatt get past the feeling that he’s poaching his younger brother’s girl?
Read an Excerpt
“Home sweet home,” he said. “Or, at least I assume you still live with your parents. I guess I should have asked.”
She bit back an outright laugh in favor of a more ladylike chuckle. “Yes, I do still live at home. According to my mother, it’s the proper thing to do.”
Wyatt hopped out and came around the back of the car to open her door. Her mother would have been proud of how she’d waited for his assistance. Usually, she opened her own door before Garrett could get there.
“Would you like to come in and say hello?”
“I’d better not. I’ve been given an order to relay to the cook. I wouldn’t want Christina to have to wait for her supper.” He took hold of her elbow, as he had in the hospital. “I’ll see you to the door.”
Another round of sparks shot up her arm. She pulled away and took two steps forward. “It’s not necessary.”
He caught hold of her wrist and turned her to face him. His dark gaze flared. “Thank you for coming to see Pops. He obviously adores you.”
“It was my pleasure.” She was about to pull from his grasp when he tightened his grip, stopping her in her tracks. “My brother’s a lucky man.”
Her cheeks flooded with warmth. “Thank you.”
He smiled and her heart did a little flip inside her chest. His deep voice softened to a mere whisper and he released her wrist. “You’re welcome, Re…becc…a.”
She made a dash for the porch. By the time she turned back toward the drive, Wyatt had climbed into the car and cranked the engine. The way he’d said her name, drawn out and distinct, had reminded her of a cat unfurling its lazy body in front of a raging fire.
And her with no extinguisher in sight.
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