“Forget it, Charlie. She’ll have none of you. Besides, as soon as I can arrange it, she’ll be my wife.”
Dickens blinked but offered us his congratulations. We started for his car.
While the men talked, I pulled out my cellphone and tried for a signal. As soon as I had one, I dialed Clarice. I needed to break the news that I wouldn’t be home any time soon and to ask her to close up the house for me.
“But you’ll miss the spring—the wildflowers and the baby deer,” she complained. It’s your favorite season.”
Actually I liked the fall. Spring was my sister’s favorite season.
“I’ve seen spring in Irish Camp. I haven’t seen fall in Buenos Aires.” The lie was easy. The danger should be passed. But I wouldn’t gamble with her life. Physical proximity was nice but there were phones and email. They would do until I was certain that it was safe.
I looked over at Emerson and he smiled sympathetically.
“Sweetie, I’ve got to go. I’ll email you soon.” Like when I got my computer back from the faeries of Nevada. I had a feeling I would be seeing them again and before too long. Emerson and I had given it some thought and decided that after we were married—and sure that everything was taken care of in regards to the Dark Man’s son— that maybe we would want to talk to Thomas some more about the possibility of having a baby.
About the Author
Melanie Jackson is the author of 23 novels. If you enjoyed this story, please visit Melanie’s author web site at www.melaniejackson.com.
Table of Contents
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
About the Author
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