Texas Trouble (Harlequin Larger Print Superromance)

169 Pages·2010·0.72 MB·English

by  Kathleen O'Brien

He watched her approach
Nora was too far away for Logan to see details, but his mind could conjure
every inch. The silly auburn curls that frothed around her shoulders. The round
eyes, too big for her face, forest-colored, mostly brown with shards of green and
bronze. Little-girl pink cheeks, freckles and an upturned, cheerleader’s nose.
But a dangerous woman’s mouth, wide and soft and tempting.
Today, her head was bowed as she moved toward them, her pale face
somber. She might have the coloring of a roseate spoonbill, but she had the soft
melancholy of the mourning dove. The widow Archer. He squeezed the handle
of the hammer he was holding. She was as beautiful—and as off-limits—as ever.
Dear Reader,
Many years ago, on a wintery Florida afternoon, my mother, my little girl
and I spent a couple of hours at the nearby Audubon Center for Birds of Prey. It
was an idle choice, mostly an excuse to get outdoors.
But as we walked under the spreading oaks, we were caught by the magic of
the place. The long-taloned, steady-eyed raptors. The impossibly tiny owls, who
peeked out of their houses, mere cottonballs with button eyes. The dignified barn
owl turning his head solemnly from side to side while we watched. We laughed
at his hauteur, but we were secretly honored that he had deigned to notice us.
My mother has been gone a long time now, and my “little girl” is a beautiful,
independent woman. But that day lives on. That afternoon when we shared a
mystical bond with nature, feeling completely at peace, one with the birds…and
each other.
When I came to write Nora Archer’s story, I knew she needed a special kind
of healing. Nora and her fatherless sons have been through so much. She needed
a man, and a place, that could bring her that kind of peace. And so…I
remembered the birds.
I hope you enjoy Nora and Logan’s story. If you have a wildlife sanctuary
near you, please visit and support them. Then drop by
www.KOBrienOnline.com and tell me all about it!
Warmly,
Kathleen O’Brien
Texas Trouble
Kathleen O’Brien
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kathleen O’Brien was a feature writer and TV critic before marrying a
fellow journalist. Motherhood, which followed soon after, was so marvelous she
turned to writing novels, which could be done at home. She works hard to pack
her backyard with birds, butterflies and squirrels. Indoors, her two cockatiels,
Honey and Lizzie, announce repeatedly, if not humbly, that they are “pretty
birds.” Her colorful Gouldian finch, who lives in her office, fills every day with
music.
Books by Kathleen O’Brien
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1015—WINTER BABY*
1047—BABES IN ARMS*
1086—THE REDEMPTION OF MATTHEW QUINN*
1146—THE ONE SAFE PLACE*
1176—THE HOMECOMING BABY
1231—THE SAINT†
1249—THE SINNER†
1266—THE STRANGER†
1382—CHRISTMAS IN HAWTHORN BAY
1411—EVERYTHING BUT THE BABY
1441—TEXAS BABY
1572—TEXAS WEDDING
1590—FOR THE LOVE OF FAMILY
HARLEQUIN SINGLE TITLE
MYSTERIES OF LOST ANGEL INN
“The Edge of Memory”
To my much-loved mother and daughter, who shared that extraordinary day
with me.
I wish we could do it again.
And to the Audubon Center for Birds of Prey, for working magic year after
year.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
A DRAGONFLY HOVERED INCHES from Nora Archer’s shoulder, its
wings hypnotically beating the warm air of the hacienda courtyard. She ought to
get up, get going, get Sean ready for Little League, but peaceful moments were
too rare these days. She used to love sitting out here in the late afternoon, when
the Bull’s Eye Ranch was quiet, the shadows stretched across the bricks, and the
breeze was full of honeysuckle and wind chimes.
Milly, the housekeeper, was vacuuming on the second floor, a way of
keeping an eye on Sean without making him feel like a prisoner. So, temporarily
off duty, Nora lay on the lounger, prepared to steal a few more minutes.
A battle was coming with Sean, and she wasn’t eager to engage. They’d
quarreled as soon as he got home from school, about whether his homework
could wait until after the game. She hadn’t budged, though as always she’d
needed to steel herself against the pain behind his angry hazel eyes. He was only
nine… He’d been through so much….
But dealing with Sean called for discipline and routine, not sloppy emotion
and inconsistency. So she’d held firm. As usual, he’d stomped upstairs in a fury
and slammed his door.
Most days, after a scene like that, she would send Harry up to remind Sean it
was time to shower and put on his uniform. No matter how prickly Sean was
with his mother, no matter how sour he’d grown about his former love, baseball,
he never took it out on Harry.
The hero-worship of a little brother had once been the bane of Sean’s
existence, but not anymore. These days, Harry was the only one Sean seemed to
trust.
Unfortunately, Harry was playing at a friend’s house.
So for just a few minutes more, she wanted to watch the dragonfly, bask in
the spring sunshine, and pretend everything was normal. She wanted to pretend
that her boys had a father, who at any moment might come whistling around the
corner, shouldering a trio of fishing poles. She wanted to pretend that Sean
hadn’t grown surly and difficult, that he hadn’t begun to hate everything he used
to love, and that his nights were peaceful under acres of starry Archer sky, not
haunted by nightmares of madmen, guns and fear.
A lovely fantasy, but it couldn’t last. Too soon the quiet hour was gone. She