“You couldn’t even talk there a minute ago.”
They both laughed, and they got dressed again, drawn, as if by an invisible force, back outside and down to the lake. The air was still but very cold, and the water sparkled in the moonlight. Jo’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dark. She didn’t miss the city lights.
Elijah stood very close to her, their toes almost in the water. “Right here or at the falls. My deck. The lodge. Washington. I don’t care.” He turned and brushed a knuckle gently across her cheek. “I love you, Jo.”
She grabbed his hand into hers and took a breath, and she tried to speak but couldn’t get any words out.
He kissed her hand. “I want to love and cherish you for the rest of our lives.”
“Elijah…”
“The rest doesn’t matter. What we’ll do, where we’ll live—it doesn’t matter, so long as we’re together. Jo, I’m asking you to marry me.”
She couldn’t get a decent breath.
He smiled. “Speechless, are you?” With his free hand, he dug into his jacket pocket, producing a diamond ring. He held it between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t know what happened to the little box it came in. Maybe there wasn’t one.”
“You’ve been chasing bad guys, Elijah. When have you had time—”
“I bought this ring for you the day you graduated from high school. I helped old Pete Harper cut cordwood out here to earn the money. I didn’t buy it in town. I knew your father would shoot me if he knew. It’s not expensive, but I thought for now…”
“Forever.” It was all she could think to say. “It’s perfect.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Jo. I’m sorry I never answered your letters.”
She blinked back tears. “I’m sorry I hung on. Elijah…” Finally, she laughed, squeezing his hand. “Nothing’s changed after all, has it? I love you. I always have. I’ve never stopped. I never will stop.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger and put his arm around her, pulling her close to him as he kissed the top of her head. “Can you picture it, Jo? Our kids. Out here. I can see them now.” He laughed as if he could, indeed, see them. “We’ll have our hands full.”
“We will,” Jo said.
Elijah’s arm tightened around her as a breeze stirred, floating down from Cameron Mountain and across the moonlit lake, and she leaned against the man she’d loved for as long as she could remember.
* * * * *
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the latest thrilling story in the
Sharpe & Donovan series
by New York Times bestselling author
Carla Neggers.
RIVAL’S BREAK
Available soon from MIRA Books.
Chapter 1
Emma Sharpe opened all the windows in the small Maine coastal house she shared with her husband of almost four months, ending with the stubborn one above the kitchen sink. A crisp, salt-tinged breeze blew in on her, and she shut her eyes, taking it in, relishing it after her slog of a drive up from Boston. She’d left her FBI office early, hoping to beat the worst of the foliage traffic. Maybe she had. Maybe it was even worse now, at rush hour.
The weather forecast called for a sunny, cool weekend, perfect for leaf-peeping, hiking, kayaking—or a family wedding.
I’ll be there for the wedding, Emma. Promise.
That was three weeks ago. Long weeks, Emma thought. Hard weeks.
But tomorrow, after many ups and downs, her brother-in-law Andy, a lobsterman and third-born of the four Donovan brothers, and his marine biologist love, Julianne Maroney, were finally getting married in their small hometown of Rock Point, Maine.
A fresh, gusty breeze caught the calendar Emma had bought in Ireland and hung on the wall by the refrigerator, one of her touches in the Craftsman-style house. Colin hadn’t objected. They’d met a year ago…fell in love fast…got married in June…a whirlwind of a love affair, every second etched in her memory. But the last weeks of summer and first weeks of autumn had been a blur of grief, work and long walks in the Irish hills with her grandfather, mourning his only son, her father…gone too soon…and Colin, the hard-headed, hard-driving man she loved, away on his latest FBI undercover mission…
She noticed the calendar was still set to August. She pulled it off its prosaic nail and flipped past September to October. The blank weeks reminded her of the passage of time since she and Colin had last been here, in the house he’d bought months before they’d met.
She hung the calendar back on its nail and admired the photo of Moll’s Gap on the southwest Irish coast. She and Colin had stopped there in June on their honeymoon. Holding hands, taking in the stunning views of the mountains and lakes, it was as if time stood still and nothing bad could ever happen to them.
The details of his whereabouts were on a need-to-know basis, and in her role as an art crimes analyst, Emma didn’t need to know.
Faintly settled, she took off her lightweight leather jacket and hung it on the back of a chair at the table. She was in black slacks and a white blouse but would change into something more casual for tonight’s rehearsal dinner.
Would Colin be back in time for the dinner?
She yanked open the refrigerator. Three bottles of a local craftsman beer sat on the top shelf. Colin wouldn’t mind not coming home to actual food in the fridge, but beer? A staple for any Donovan. She wondered how many times in the past weeks he’d thought about the beer waiting for him when he finally made his way back home.
Then she spotted a glass jar of local, whole-milk yogurt tucked on a shelf in the door. Had she left it on her last visit?
She shook her head. “No.”
As she shut the refrigerator door, she felt the flutter in her stomach she always felt when she knew Colin was near.
And he was, she thought. He was here.
Footsteps sounded on the back stairs. She saw him through the screen door as he pulled it open and came into the kitchen. Her heart skipped a couple of beats. The tousled dark hair, the blue-gray eyes, the small scar on his upper cheek. The broad shoulders. The slight, knowing smile. He wore jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt. His Maine clothes, his undercover clothes—it didn’t matter.
He shut the door behind him. “Hey, there. Did you see I got you your favorite yogurt?”
“I did see that.”
“I got your favorite granola, too. It’s in the cupboard.”
“You’re the best, Colin Donovan.” Emma smiled as he slipped his arms around her. She’d pulled back her hair, fair and straight, but a hunk came loose as she took in the feel of him, his warmth, his strength. “Welcome home.”
“It’s good to be here.”
“When did you get back?”
“After lunch. I went for a walk.”
Of course. “Felt good?”
“Not as good as this.” He drew her closer, opening his palms on her hips. “How are you, Emma?”
“Happy you’re here, safe and sound.” She eased her arms around his waist, settling them where sweatshirt and jeans met on his back. “How did you get here?”
“Mike picked me up at the airport in Portland. I didn’t want to fly into Boston and risk not getting here in time.”
Mike was the eldest brother, a Maine wilderness guide and an occasional security contractor. “You didn’t want to miss tonight’s rehearsal dinner,” Emma said.
“And you. I didn’t want to miss tonight with you.”
Heat spread through her. “Now here we are.”
Colin’s eyes, a blue-gray that reminded her of the ocean, held hers. “Yes. Together again.”
“And you are safe and sound, yes?”
“I am,” he said, as his mouth lowered to hers.
He lifted her and carried her into the front room and on to the entry. He was a strong, fit man, and although Emma could see the fatigue in his face, he continued up the stairs without a pause.
Their thing, from their earliest days together.
He carried her up the sta
irs without breaking stride, ducked into their bedroom at the back of the house and laid her on the bed. She sank into the soft quilt. He wasn’t the least bit winded but she could hardly get a decent breath. Nothing to do with exertion, everything to do with having him here again, with her.
“I’m sorry I had to leave when I did,” Colin said. “Your dad…Emma…”
“It helped to have that time on my own. You knew it would, didn’t you?”
“I thought it would, knowing you. Our lives are complicated right now, but it won’t be forever. But that can wait,” he said, lowering his mouth to her. “That all can wait.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” she managed to whisper, before speaking became impossible, and unnecessary.
* * *
The bright, clear autumn weather held through Saturday’s wedding, and as far as Emma was concerned, it couldn’t have been more perfect. The Donovans and Maroneys had simple tastes and a modest budget, but they knew how to have a good time. She loved every minute of the simple outdoor service and reception. Andy and Julianne had chosen the old sea captain’s house his parents had converted into a bed-and-breakfast, with help from their four sons. Emma was relieved Colin managed to put aside his undercover work and relax. He’d always been good at compartmentalizing, and a beautiful day on the Maine coast among family and friends had to ease his reentry into his real life.
The white clapboard, black-shuttered early nineteenth-century house and its expansive yard sparkled under the afternoon sun. Emma was eyeing the plates of apple spice cake on a table in the shade. Unable to decide on just one cake, Andy and Julianne had three. Coconut, apple spice and chocolate. Emma planned to taste all of them. There were autumn-decorated cookies, too, but she had to draw the over-indulging line somewhere. She wore a deep coral knit dress, comfortable and forgiving given how much food she’d been consuming.
Colin peeled himself away from the bar and joined her. “Kevin’s heading out to check on possible food poisoning at a yacht party. I’d like to tag along. Okay with you?”
“Of course, no problem. I’m sure he’d appreciate the company.” Kevin was the youngest Donovan, a Maine marine patrol officer and the only brother who’d come to the wedding alone, something he obviously regretted. “I’ll save you cake.”
Colin kissed her on the cheek. “Save me a good Irish whiskey instead.”
Emma watched him cross the lawn to Kevin’s truck. Kevin was already at the wheel, and they pulled onto the narrow road, picking up speed as they continued toward Rock Point village and on to Heron’s Cove. She helped herself to the apple spice cake. Andy, with his strong Donovan frame and ocean-gray eyes, swept his bride into his arms and started up the front steps into the sprawling early nineteenth-century house, presumably to get ready to leave on their honeymoon. Julianne laughed, the autumn sun catching the golden highlights in her dark brown hair. She and Andy had known each other forever and had settled some epic battles between them before discovering how much in love they were, and how enduring that love was.
So caught up in her cake and her own thoughts, Emma didn’t notice Finian Bracken until he was standing next to her. In his late thirties, blue-eyed and handsome with his angular features and dark hair, he was the local priest, an Irishman and a friend. He’d officiated at her and Colin’s wedding in June, and now at Julianne and Andy’s wedding. Everyone had expected him to go home to Ireland at the end of his one-year appointment to the village’s struggling church in June, but he’d stayed on. For how long, Emma couldn’t even guess.
“It was a lovely wedding, Finian,” she said.
“It was. They’ll be at the cottage in time for lunch tomorrow.”
Meaning the traditional Irish stone cottage Finian owned in the Kerry hills, with stunning views of Kenmare Bay. He seldom, if ever, stayed there given the bittersweet memories it held of his wife and two young daughters, who’d died in a sailing accident eight years ago. But he looked preoccupied, squinting at the cloud of road dust settling in the wake of Kevin’s truck. “Trouble, Emma?”
“Possibly. Why?”
He turned to her, if anything more serious. “I’m finished here. Why don’t we walk to the rectory together?”
“Finian?”
“It’s a beautiful afternoon for a walk.”
Emma nodded without further comment. They’d do this his way.
“Franny Maroney told me she was hoping the see Donovans in tuxedos today,” he said as they walked up the one-lane road, next to a marsh with the tide washing gently among the golden grasses and a few shorebirds.
Emma laughed. Franny was Julianne’s formidable widowed grandmother. “That sounds like Franny.”
“She says her husband wore a powder-blue tux at their wedding.”
“Must have been something. She seemed to enjoy herself today.”
“I think everyone did,” Finian said.
They continued with similar amiable, innocuous chitchat on the fifteen-minute walk to the rectory, a homely vinyl-sided Victorian. It was situated next to Saint Patrick’s church, on a quiet street a few blocks from the house Emma shared with Colin. As they arrived, Emma saw what had prompted Finian’s unsettled mood, and his invitation to walk with him.
More specifically, who.
Emma slowed her pace. Henrietta Balfour was twirling a red leaf by the stem in the rectory’s front yard while Oliver York looked on from the front stoop, their bags at his feet on the walk.
An MI5 officer and an English art thief.
Emma glanced at Finian. “Why are Henrietta and Oliver here, Finian?”
“I was hoping you might know.”
Should know. Didn’t. “When did they arrive?”
“Just now. Oliver texted me this morning and told me they were on the way. I didn’t want to distract you and Colin from the wedding. It’s a surprise visit.”
An understatement. “They’re staying with you?”
“The housekeeper set up for them while I was at the wedding.” Finian settled his midnight-blue eyes on Emma with the slightest smile. “Separate bedrooms.”
Don’t miss
RIVAL’S BREAK
by Carla Neggers
On sale August 27, 2019, from MIRA Books.
Copyright © 2019 by Carla Neggers
ISBN-13: 978-1-488-05835-6
Cold Pursuit
First published in 2008. This edition published in 2019.
Copyright © 2008 by Carla Neggers
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