A Reunion and a Ring

A Reunion and a Ring
GINA WILKINS

Someone's sleeping in my bedNeeding to ponder a marriage proposal, play-it-safe Jenny Baer escapes to an Ozarks cabin–right into bed with a naked man! What's a recuperating Officer Gavin Locke doing in her rental amid a raging storm? He's the last thing she needs–the man she loved…and left.Trapped with Jenny in his cabin, with no power and too many memories, Gavin knows nothing's changed. She can't accept his dangerous career, and she's about to marry a powerful politician. But when one little kiss brings him to his knees, Gavin can't deny the attraction never died. Nor can Jenny. Once the flood waters recede, Jenny will wear a ring…But from whom?

How could ten years fall away in minutes?

How could a decade be forgotten with the touch of his hand? How could formerly hazy memories of long, passionate nights be suddenly more real to her than the people surrounding them as Gavin took her in his arms?

“A lot has changed in ten years.” His warm breath brushed her cheek and she shivered.

Sex, she told herself. That’s what this was about. She’d always responded to whatever pheromones Gavin put out. That hadn’t changed.

Still, if he was getting ideas that their chance meeting at the cabin could lead to anything more, she needed to set him straight. Sure, they’d gotten along fine, shared an amazing kiss. But that was a kiss goodbye, not the start of something new.

Gavin’s hand at the small of her back pressed her closer. She could have resisted. But for one moment she gave herself permission to simply enjoy the feel of him.

Stop this, Jenny. Stop it before you do something incredibly stupid, said the voice in her head.

Should she listen to it?

* * *

Proposals & Promises Putting a ring on it is only the beginning!

A Reunion and a Ring

Gina Wilkins

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

Author of more than a hundred titles for Mills & Boon, native Arkansan GINA WILKINS was introduced early to romance novels by her avid-reader mother. Gina loves sharing her own stories with readers who enjoy books celebrating families and romance. She is inspired daily by her husband of over thirty years, their two daughters and their son, their librarian son-in-law who fits perfectly into this fiction-loving family, and an adorable grandson who already loves books.

As always, for my own perfect match—my husband, John. He proves every day that real-life heroes are the ones who are always quietly there for their family and friends, whether to lend a hug, a cheer or a hammer and duct tape. Forever my inspiration.

Contents

Cover (#ua23f5cc0-cbda-5d1f-b15b-c99597a15bda)

Introduction (#u6464068d-4f29-57b3-80c0-9050a20f28ab)

Title Page (#u82f63b31-3c3a-58c6-8a40-91445159c3a4)

About the Author (#u3497cf85-bc7a-5e7e-a555-f9fc6c293c8e)

Dedication (#ud34752f9-a50e-53f9-b911-51344b92d81d)

Chapter One (#u6f337bd0-a935-5107-9e07-9ee2b99be865)

Chapter Two (#u5adc7c85-39d9-5218-bd5f-f3ad9dd99073)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_5526145d-cf64-5305-bf79-77833f2ea5a0)

The headlights sliced through the darkness ahead, glittering off the torrents of rain pounding the windshield of the small car. The wind blew so hard that it took some effort to keep the car on the road. Fingers white-knuckled on the wheel, Jenny Baer leaned forward slightly against her seat belt in an attempt to better see the winding road. The weather had turned nasty earlier than she’d expected when she’d started this almost-three-hour drive.

She’d intended to leave work just after lunch on this Friday, which would have put her here midafternoon, before the rain set in. Instead, she’d been held up with one crisis after another, until it had been after six when she’d finally gotten away. She hadn’t even had a chance to change out of her work clothes. She’d thought of waiting until morning to head out, but she’d been afraid she’d only be detained again, maybe until too late to even consider the rare, three-day vacation she was allowing herself.

Her grandmother would say “I told you so” in that sanctimonious tone she often slipped into. Gran had insisted it was foolish for Jenny to take off on her own and stay alone for a long weekend in a secluded mountain cabin. But then, Gran was always trying to tell her only grandchild how to live her life. Though Jenny believed the advice was generally well-intended, she had to remind her grandmother repeatedly that she was thirty-one years old, held a master’s degree and was the sole owner of a successful clothing-and-accessories boutique.

Gran would be even less supportive of this private retreat if she knew the reason Jenny had decided impulsively to take it. If she’d told her grandmother that prominent attorney Thad Simonson had proposed marriage, Gran would already be arranging an engagement party, maybe interviewing wedding planners. She wouldn’t understand why Jenny had asked for time to think about her answer, though Thad had seemed to consider the request entirely reasonable. After all, he’d said, Jenny’s practicality and judiciousness were two of the many qualities he most admired about her. She had accepted the comment as a compliment, as she knew he’d intended—though maybe he’d been just a bit too prosaic about it?

Thad was out of state for a couple weeks on one of his frequent business trips, so Jenny had taken the opportunity to get away for a few days herself. She needed time to think about the ramifications of accepting his proposal without the distractions of constantly ringing phones and never-ending meetings with employees, customers, contractors and sales reps.

Lightning flashed in the distance through the curtains of rain, silhouetting the surrounding hills against the angry sky. The full force of the early-June storm was still a few miles away, but getting closer. What had she been thinking heading into the backwoods with this looming? She was the least impulsive person she knew—at least, that was the way she’d lived for the past decade or so—and yet, here she was, inching through a downpour in the middle of nowhere, heading for a cabin in the Arkansas Ozarks with no housekeeping staff, no room service, none of the amenities she preferred for her infrequent escapes. All with less than forty-eight hours of planning, another anomaly for her.

Considering everything, it was a wonder the cabin had even been available on such short notice, but the too-cheery rental agent had assured her it was ready to rent. Jenny had assumed the weather forecasts had scared off other prospective vacationers, but she’d planned to stay inside to think and work in blessed isolation, so the prospect of a rainy weekend hadn’t deterred her. This storm, on the other hand, threatened to be more than she’d bargained for.

She turned onto a steeply rising gravel lane pitted with deep, rapidly filling puddles. The car skidded to the right as she made the turn, hydroplaning on the water beginning to creep over the road. She gasped and tightened her grip on the wheel, letting out her breath slowly when the tires regained traction, digging into the gravel and forcing their way uphill.

She gave a little moan of relief when the cabin appeared in front of her as a darker shape in the headlights. No lights burned in the windows, and there seemed to be no security lights outside. It was hard to tell if the place had changed much since she’d last been here, almost eleven years ago. Lizzie, the rather ditzy rental agent, had explained that there was a carport behind the cabin, but since there was no covered walkway from there to the back door, Jenny parked as close as she could get to the front porch.

Her luggage was in the trunk, but the purse, computer case and overnight bag in the front passenger seat held everything she needed until morning. Arms full, she jumped out of the car and made a mad scramble toward the covered porch. She cursed beneath her breath as she fumbled the key into the lock. Just from that brief dash, her dark hair was soaked, the layers hanging limply around her face and sticking to her cheek. Her once-crisp, white designer blouse was now sodden and transparent, and her gray linen pants were wet to the skin. Mud splattered her expensive sandals and she’d twisted her ankle on the slippery steps. This was what she got, she chided herself, for coming to a place with no eager doorman to assist her.

“I told you so,” Gran’s imaginary voice whispered in her ear, making her scowl as she shoved through the door.

The interior of the cabin was stuffy and dark, lit only by the almost-constant flashes of lightning through the windows. In the strobe-like illumination, she could see that she had entered a spacious open room with a kitchen and dining area at the far end, and a big stone fireplace on the wall to her right. It was all exactly as she remembered.

She hadn’t anticipated the feelings that almost overwhelmed her when she walked in, stealing the breath from her lungs and leaving a dull ache in her chest. She’d told herself she’d sought out this cabin only because it was the first place that had popped into her mind when she’d looked for a peaceful hideaway for the serious deliberations facing her. She’d reassured herself she was drawn here because she’d recalled the natural beauty, the soothing backdrop of birdsongs and mountain breezes. The long Labor Day weekend she’d spent here with her college boyfriend’s family had been one of the most pleasant holidays of her life. It had seemed a lucky omen when she’d made a couple of internet searches and phone calls and discovered, to her surprise, that not only was the cabin still on the market for vacation rentals, it was also available this very week.

She’d thought she could enjoy the setting without dwelling on the copious tears she’d shed by the end of that year, after a bitterly painful breakup. She’d thought she had long since dealt with that youthful heartbreak so she could remember the good times and forget the bad, the way any mature adult looked back at the foibles of youth. Maybe she’d even thought this would be a fitting way to put a final closure to her one previous serious relationship before committing completely to a new, permanent union.