Eye of the Tiger

Eye of the Tiger
Diana Palmer

Eleanor Whitman had been a young girl with a crush, offering Keegan Taber her heart on a platter. Then he'd made it ruthlessly clear he wanted nothing to do with it. Eleanor hated the memory–and she hated him. And yet even four years later, the sight of Keegan made her weak in the knees. Only, now she was no girl….Keegan had never forgiven himself for how he'd treated Eleanor. He'd give anything to have her love him again. But Eleanor had moved on and was with another man. All Keegan could do was hope that man didn't put a ring on her finger before he could win her back….

Is this a teenage crush…or forever love? Find out in Diana Palmer’s popular story, Eye of the Tiger.

Once upon a time, Eleanor Whitman was a young girl with a crush. She’d offered Keegan Taber her heart on a platter, but he’d made it very clear he didn’t want her. Four years later, Eleanor still hated that memory—and the man behind it. Nevertheless, the sight of Keegan made her, now a woman grown, weak in the knees!

Keegan never forgave himself for the way he’d treated Eleanor. He’d give anything to have her feel that way about him again. But Eleanor had moved on and was with someone else. All Keegan could do was hope that man didn’t put a ring on her finger before he could win Eleanor back…

Dear Reader (#ulink_c5ad3bbc-04be-56b2-b644-f0debf6da17a),

I really can’t express how flattered I am and also how grateful I am to Mills & Boon Books for releasing this collection of my published works. It came as a great surprise. I never think of myself as writing books that are collectible. In fact, there are days when I forget that writing is work at all. What I do for a living is so much fun that it never seems like a job. And since I reside in a small community, and my daily life is confined to such mundane things as feeding the wild birds and looking after my herb patch in the backyard, I feel rather unconnected from what many would think of as a glamorous profession.

But when I read my email, or when I get letters from readers, or when I go on signing trips to bookstores to meet all of you, I feel truly blessed. Over the past thirty years, I have made lasting friendships with many of you. And quite frankly, most of you are like part of my family. You can’t imagine how much you enrich my life. Thank you so much.

I also need to extend thanks to my family (my husband, James, son, Blayne, daughter-in-law, Christina, and granddaughter, Selena Marie), to my best friend, Ann, to my readers, booksellers and the wonderful people at Mills & Boon Books—from my editor of many years, Tara, to all the other fine and talented people who make up our publishing house. Thanks to all of you for making this job and my private life so worth living.

Thank you for this tribute, Mills & Boon, and for putting up with me for thirty long years! Love to all of you.

Diana Palmer

DIANA PALMER

The prolific author of more than one hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A multi–New York Times bestselling author and one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.

Visit her website at www.DianaPalmer.com (http://www.DianaPalmer.com).

Eye of the Tiger

New York Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author

Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Contents

Cover (#u656061c9-90ae-530d-a149-ba0ce711346f)

Back Cover Text (#u2ff3c11b-ee73-5c76-a897-bc804fb9a7d3)

Dear Reader (#u6dc2408b-8e12-55d2-9a5b-715990f2a113)

About the Author (#uaf9b381e-160a-58cc-bd30-85165ae3f08e)

Title Page (#u0d19839f-e2f1-54fd-aba2-3f06d3472b9a)

Chapter One (#uf83dc6db-d093-5d3a-8049-cd468610745c)

Chapter Two (#ue2c0c1dd-ea74-5113-bf11-4b2eb1f88a42)

Chapter Three (#ub2774840-f019-591c-ac20-27359023cf4a)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_3ff4e1da-8b34-5ac7-9fc1-d40a37592eb6)

Eleanor Whitman saw the red Porsche sitting in the driveway and deliberately accelerated past the small shotgun house on the mammoth K. G. Taber farm outside Lexington, Kentucky. She knew the car too well to mistake it, and she knew who would be driving it. Her heart quickened despite all her efforts at control, although she had every reason in the world to hate the car’s owner.

Her slender hands tightened on the steering wheel and she took slow, deep breaths until they stopped trembling, until the apprehension left her huge dark eyes.

She had no idea where she was going as she turned onto a long, calm avenue with big, graceful shade trees down the median. Lexington was like a series of small communities, each with its own personality and neighbors who were like family. Eleanor often wished that she and her father could live in town, instead of on the farm. But the house was theirs rent-free as long as her father lived, a kind of fringe benefit for employees of the elder Taber. Dozens of employees lived on the mammoth farm: carpenters, mechanics, farm laborers, a veterinarian and his assistants, a trainer and his assistants, a black smith…the list went on and on. The farm had two champion racehorses, one a Triple Crown winner, and a prime collection of purebred Black Angus bulls as well. It was a diversified, self-contained property and the Tabers had money to burn.

Eleanor’s father was a carpenter, a good one, and he alternated between repairing existing buildings and helping put up new ones. He’d had a bad fall and broken his hip three months ago—an accident from which he was only just now recovering after extensive physical therapy. And the Tabers had been keeping him on, paying his insurance and all his utilities despite Eleanor’s proud efforts to stop them. They were holding his job open and looking after him like family until he could work again, which the doctors said would be soon. Meanwhile, Eleanor took care of him and petted him and was grateful that the fall hadn’t killed him. He was all she had.

In her teens, Eleanor had loved the big white house with its long, open porches and wide, elegant columns. Most of all, she’d loved Keegan Taber. That had been her downfall. Four years of nursing school in Louisville had matured her, however, and her decision to accept a position at a private hospital in Lexington was a measure of that maturity. Four years ago, she’d succumbed to Keegan’s charm and accepted one tragic date with him, not knowing the real reason he’d asked her out. She’d hated him ever since. She spoke to him only when he was impossible to avoid, and she never went near him. It had taken her a long time to get over what had happened, and she was only now starting to live again.

What puzzled her was that Keegan had been acting oddly ever since her return. He didn’t seem to mind her venomous looks, her dislike. And it didn’t stop him from visiting her father at the house, either. The two men had become close, and Eleanor wondered at the amount of time Keegan had been spending with her father lately. Keegan seemed to have plenty to spare, and that was odd because his business interests were diverse and made many demands on him. Now that his father, Gene Taber, was feeling his age, Keegan had assumed most of the responsibility for the farm. Keegan was an only child, and his mother had died many years before, so there were only the two men at Flintlock, the huge estate with its graceful meadows and white-fenced lushness.

Flintlock had been the site of a miraculous occurrence during the settlement of Kentucky. During a fight between pioneers and Indians, the settlers ran out of water. In a daring act, a pioneer’s wife—some legends said Becky Boone herself, wife of Daniel—led the womenfolk of the encampment down to a bubbling stream to fetch water in their buckets. And, miracle of miracles, the Indians actually held their fire until the women were safely back with their menfolk. There was a historic marker at the site now; it was in the middle of a cattle pasture. Tourists still braved the bulls to read it.

Eleanor drove past that pasture now and remembered going to see it with Keegan long ago. How naive she’d been, how infatuated with him. Well, she was over it now; Keegan had given her the cure. But the experience had almost killed her. Certainly she’d been dead inside for a long, long time. Thanks to Wade, however, she was beginning to feel alive again.

Wade had been invited to the house tonight for the first time to meet her father. Eleanor hoped that Keegan didn’t have any standing plans to visit with Barnett Whitman that evening to play their regular game of chess; she wanted her father and Wade to get to know each other. Keegan, she thought with a flash of irritation, would only be in the way.

Wade Granger had become someone special in her life, she mused, smiling as she recalled their first few meetings. He’d been a patient and had formed an attachment to her, as patients sometimes did to their nurses. She’d laughed off his invitations, thinking he’d get over it when he left the hospital. But he hadn’t. First he’d sent flowers, then candy. And she’d been so shocked at the royal treatment, because he was as wealthy as Keegan, that she’d dropped her guard. And he’d pounced, grinning like a cartoon cat, his dark hair and eyes sparkling with amusement at her astonishment.

“What’s wrong with me?” he’d asked plaintively. “I’m only six years older than you are, eligible, rich, sexy. What more do you want? So I’m a little heavy, so what?”

She’d sighed and tried to explain to him that she and her father weren’t wealthy, that she didn’t think getting involved with him would be a good idea.

“Poppycock,” he’d muttered dryly. “I’m not proposing marriage. I just want you to go out with me.”