Glory, Glory: Snowbound with the Bodyguard Read online

  NO PLACE LIKE HOME

  For Glory Parsons, “home for the holidays” wasn’t exactly the stuff of sing-alongs and sleigh rides. In fact, she dreaded it. Dreaded having to face the things she’d lost—her brother, a casualty of war; and Jesse Bainbridge, a casualty of her own weakness. She’d never been able to tell Jesse the reason she’d left him abruptly ten years ago, after she’d promised to love him forever. And he certainly didn’t seem open to talking about it now.

  Jesse had too much on his plate to get involved with Glory Parsons. He was the sheriff of Pearl Lake and responsible for his orphaned niece. So why couldn’t he stay away from the woman? She drew him, just as she always had. But there would be no kisses under the mistletoe for them until he knew the truth. If he was strong enough to face it.

  Praise for #1 New York Times bestselling author

  Linda Lael Miller

  “Miller’s masterful ability to create living, breathing characters never flags….Miller’s romance

  won’t disappoint.”

  —Publishers Weekly, starred review, on McKettrick’s Pride

  “Miller’s attention to small details makes her stories

  a delight to read.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Creed’s Honor

  “Miller’s down-home, easy-to-read style keeps the plot moving, and she includes…likable characters, picturesque descriptions and some very sweet pets.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Big Sky Country

  Praise for Carla Cassidy

  “Cassidy crafts sympathetic characters…along with a strong, well-developed plot. A charmingly sweet and ruggedly strong hero is the icing on the cake for this romantic treat.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Cowboy With a Cause

  “Cassidy writes sensitively about the difficult subject of rape in Snowbound With the Bodyguard.

  Janette is a strong heroine, and sexy Dalton stands out as a hero very much her equal.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  LINDA LAEL MILLER

  Raised in Northport, Washington, as the daughter of a town marshal, Linda Lael Miller is a #1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than one hundred historical and contemporary novels, most of which reflect her love of the West.

  Linda has come a long way since leaving Washington to experience the world. “But growing up in that time and place has served me well,” she allows. “And I’m happy to be back home.” Dedicated to helping others, Linda personally finances her Linda Lael Miller Scholarships for Women, which she awards to those seeking to improve their lot in life through education. More information about Linda and her novels is available at www.lindalaelmiller.com. She also loves to hear from readers by mail at P.O. Box 19461, Spokane, WA 99219.

  CARLA CASSIDY

  is an award-winning author who has written more than one hundred books for Harlequin, and currently writes for the Harlequin Intrigue and Harlequin Romantic Suspense lines. In 1995 she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998 she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews.

  Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Glory, Glory by Linda Lael Miller

  Snowbound with the Bodyguard by Carla Cassidy

  #1 New York Times Bestselling Author

  Glory, Glory

  Dear Reader,

  I’m so happy to bring you the story of Glory Parsons!

  We’ve all experienced lost love—and the heartbreak that follows. For Glory, losing Jesse Bainbridge, and the child she never told him about, was devastating. Now she’s home for the holidays and dreading every minute of it. She’s not sure she can face her family, Jesse or the mistakes of her past.

  For Jesse, having Glory back in town is beyond confusing. She’s the woman he pledged to love for the rest of his days, but also the one who left him without warning. Being the guardian of his young niece means he can’t take those same risks again, but he’s not so sure he can resist the woman he’s never been able to forget.

  Can Glory and Jesse ever believe in trust…and love again?

  I truly hope you enjoy this story! Meanwhile, stop on by www.lindalaelmiller.com for my (almost) daily blog, excerpts from my books, and fun contests, along with a few surprises now and then.

  With love,

  Linda Lael Miller

  For Betty Wojcik, a friend indeed.

  Thanks for everything.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 1

  Glory Parsons’s gloved hands tightened on the steering wheel when the familiar green-and-white sign came into view. Pearl River, Oregon. Population: 6710.

  All it would take was one U-turn, and she could be headed back toward Portland. She’d find another job, and she still had her apartment. Maybe she and Alan could work things out….

  She swallowed hard. She would be in Pearl River three weeks at the outside, then she could join her friend Sally in San Francisco, get a new job and start her life all over again. As for Alan, she hoped his teeth would fall out.

  The feed store was festooned in lights and sparkling green garlands for Christmas, like the five-and-dime and the bookstore and the newspaper office. The street was thick with muddy slush, but fat puffs of new snow were falling.

  Glory passed the diner and smiled to see the cheap plastic Santa and reindeer perched on the tar-paper roof. She touched her horn once, in a preliminary greeting to her mother, and drove on.

  The cemetery was on the other side of town, overlooking the river. Glory parked outside the gates, behind a green police car, and made her way up the curving driveway. She left her purse in the car, carrying a bouquet of holly she’d picked along the roadside earlier in the day.

  A crisp breeze riffled the drifting snowflakes and Glory’s chin-length silver-gold hair. She pulled up the collar of her long woolen coat, royal blue to match her eyes, and made her way carefully along a slippery walk.

  Dylan’s grave lay beneath a white blanket of snow, and Glory’s throat thickened when she came to stand beside it. “Hi, handsome,” she said hoarsely, stooping to put the holly into the metal vase at the base of his headstone. Her eyes filled with tears, and she wedged both hands deep into her coat pockets and sniffled. “You had your nerve, dying at twenty-two. Don’t you know a girl needs her big brother?”

  She dusted snow from the face of the stone, uncovering Dylan’s name and the dates of his birth and death. He’d perished in an explosion soon after joining the air force, and Glory didn’t want anyone to forget he’d lived, even for the space of an afternoon snowfall.

  She drew a deep breath and dried her eyes with the back of one hand. “I swore I’d never come back here,” she went on miserably, “even to see you. But Mama’s getting married, so I had to come to her wedding.” She took a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her nose. “I got myself hooked up with a real jerk back in Portland, Dylan. If you’d been around, you probably would have punched him in the mouth. He pretended to love me, and then he stole my promotion right out from under me.”


  She paused to look up at the cloudy sky. The bare limbs of maple and elm trees seemed to splinter it.

  “I quit my job and had my furniture put in storage,” Glory confided to her brother, gazing at the marble headstone again. “And after Christmas and Mama’s wedding, I’m going to San Francisco to make a life for myself. I don’t know when I’ll be back to see you again.”

  A swishing sound in the slush alerted Glory to someone’s approach. She looked up, and her blue eyes went wide.

  “Jesse.”

  He was standing on the other side of Dylan’s grave, dressed in the standard green-and-brown uniform of the sheriff’s department. He wore no hat, and his badge, pinned to his jacket, gleamed in the thin winter light. Like Glory, he was twenty-eight years old.

  His caramel eyes moved over her frame then swept back to her face. “What are you doing here?” he asked, as though he’d caught her in a bank vault after-hours.

  Glory had known she couldn’t come back to Pearl River without encountering Jesse—she just hadn’t expected it to happen this soon. Her temper flared, along with an old ache in a corner of her heart she’d long since closed off, and she gestured toward Dylan’s headstone. “What do you think I’m doing here?” she retorted. “I came to see my brother.”

  Jesse hooked his thumbs through the loops on his trousers, and his brazen brown eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s been eight years since the funeral. You were really anxious to get back.”

  Eight years since the funeral, eight years since Glory had laid eyes on Jesse Bainbridge.

  Pride forced Glory to retaliate. She took in his uniform and then said, “I see you’ve been promoted to sheriff. Did your grandfather buy the election?”

  His jawline tightened for a moment, but then he grinned in that wicked way that had broken so many hearts in high school. “Why not? He bought you, didn’t he?” Like everyone else in Pearl River, Jesse probably believed old Seth Bainbridge had paid her to leave town; Glory was fairly certain he’d never learned about the baby.

  Without waiting for a reply, Jesse settled his hat on his head and walked away.

  Glory barely resisted the urge to scoop up a handful of snow and hurl it at his back. Only the awareness of where she was kept her from doing just that.

  When Jesse was out of earshot, Glory put her hands on her hips and told Dylan, “He really burns me up. I don’t know why you liked him so much.”

  You liked him, too, she heard Dylan’s voice say, way down deep in her heart. You had his baby, Glory.

  “Don’t remind me!” Glory snapped, folding her arms. “I was barely eighteen, and my hormones were out of control!”

  She thought she heard Dylan’s laughter in the chilly winter breeze, and in spite of the unpleasant encounter with Jesse Bainbridge a few minutes before, she smiled.

  “I love you, Dylan,” she said, touching the headstone again. Then, with her hands in her pockets, she turned and made her way down the walk to the driveway and the towering wrought-iron gates.

  It was time to face Pearl River, something she hadn’t done since Dylan’s funeral, and she was reluctant for more than one reason.

  Glory’s sports car, the one great extravagance in her life, started with a comforting roar, and she drove slowly back into town, telling herself to take things one moment at a time. Before she knew it, Christmas and the New Year’s wedding would be over, and she could get on with her life.

  She parked in front of Delphine’s Diner just before an orange snowplow came past, flinging a picturesque fan of slush at the sidewalk. Glancing up at the life-size plastic Santa and reindeer, Glory remembered Dylan sliding around on the roof to put them in place for Christmases past, deliberately clowning because he knew his mother and sister were afraid he’d fall.

  The little bell over the door jingled when Glory went inside. Her mother, as slender and active as ever, lit up brighter than the Santa over their heads when she saw her daughter.

  “Glory,” she whispered with a choked sob of pleasure. And then she was hurrying across the brown-and-white linoleum floor, with its swirls of fresh wax, to embrace her.

  The hug brought a lump to Glory’s throat and quick tears to her eyes. “Hello, Mama.”

  “It’s about time you got here,” boomed a male voice from one of the stools at the counter. Harold Seemer, the good-natured plumbing contractor who had finally persuaded Delphine to marry him after a five-year courtship, beamed at his future stepdaughter. “We were about to send the sheriff’s patrol out after you.”

  Glory tried not to react visibly to the indirect mention of Jesse. She didn’t want thoughts of him interfering with her visit. “Hi, Harold,” she said, giving the well-fed balding man a hug. He and Delphine had visited her in Portland on several occasions, and she’d become very fond of him.

  “You look skinny,” Delphine commented, narrowing her green eyes as Glory took off her coat and hung it on one of the chrome hooks beside the door.

  Glory laughed. “Thanks, Mama. I’ve been dieting for two months to make up for all the food you’re going to force me to eat.”

  Harold finished his coffee and replaced the beige china cup in its saucer, with a clink. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll leave you two to catch up on everything.”

  When he was gone, Glory took a stool at the counter, sighed, and pushed back her hair. “No customers,” she commented, looking around at the six Formica-topped tables. The chrome legs of the chairs glistened, and so did the red vinyl seats.

  Delphine shrugged and, stepping behind the counter, poured a cup of coffee to set in front of her daughter. “The lunch crowd’s been and gone. Things’ll be quiet until dinnertime.”

  Glory reached for her cup and saucer and pulled them toward her, feeling the steam caress her face and taking comfort in the familiar aroma, but she didn’t drink. “I saw Jesse,” she said, and her voice was shaky.

  “Did you, now?” Delphine’s voice was light as the feathery snow falling past the window with its neon We Serve Pepsi-Cola sign. “How did that happen?”

  “I stopped by the cemetery to leave some holly for Dylan, and he was there.” Glory raised her eyes, watched her mother’s face pale slightly at the mention of her lost son. But Delphine recovered her composure rapidly, like always. She was nothing if not a survivor.

  “Jesse’s brother, Gresham, is buried there, along with his sister-in-law, Sandy, and his folks. Must be some special day to him, or something.”

  Glory recalled the plane crash that had taken the lives of Gresham Bainbridge, promising young state senator, and his pretty wife, Sandy. The tragedy had been big news in Oregon. “They left a child behind, didn’t they?” Glory asked, because thinking about the Bainbridges’ misfortune was better than remembering her own and Delphine’s.

  Delphine busied herself rinsing out a glass pot and starting a new batch of decaffeinated coffee brewing. “A little girl,” she said quietly. After a few more moments, she turned to face her daughter, leaning against the spotless counter, her shrewd eyes inviting—even demanding—confidences. “Tell me about this Alan man. What did he do that made you uproot yourself like that?”

  Glory ran her tongue over her lips and fiddled with a paper napkin. She still hadn’t touched her coffee. “He was a rat, Mama,” she answered after a long time. “He cozied up to all my clients while I was away taking a training course in Chicago, and when I came home, the board had given him the promotion they promised me.”

  “So you just threw your resignation in their faces, cleared out your desk and left?” Delphine put the question in a nonchallenging way, but it still made Glory’s cheeks flame.

  And she definitely felt defensive. “What should I have done, Mama? Stayed and brought Alan pencils and files in my teeth? I worked night and day for four years to earn that job!”

  Delphine shrugged, leaning on the counter again. “I think maybe you just wanted out of the relationship and that was the best excuse that occurred to you. In fact, I w
ouldn’t be surprised to learn that you’ve never gotten over Jesse Bainbridge.”

  Glory’s hands shook as she picked up the coffee and took an angry gulp. It burned her tongue and the roof of her mouth. “Well, I have!” she sputtered moments later. It still hurt that Jesse hadn’t come for her at the unwed-mothers’ home in Portland and brought her home to have their baby, even though she knew the scenario was woven of pure fantasy. Jesse couldn’t have come for her because he hadn’t known she was pregnant. “It was nothing but a childish high-school infatuation in the first place.”

  Delphine’s eyes took on a sad look. “It was more than that,” she insisted softly, resting one well-manicured hand on Glory’s arm.

  Glory pulled away, went to the jukebox and busied herself studying the titles of the songs imprisoned inside. They were all old tunes she couldn’t bear to hear when her feelings were so raw.

  She turned to the window instead.

  Mr. Kribner came out of the drugstore across the street and hung an evergreen wreath on his front door.

  “Merry Christmas,” Glory muttered, wishing she’d never left Portland. She could have made some excuse for the holidays, then dashed into town for the wedding and out again after the reception.

  Her mother’s hands gripped her elbows firmly. “You’re tired, sweetheart, and I’ll bet you didn’t have any lunch. Let me fix you something, and then you can go upstairs and rest a while.”

  Glory nodded, even though she had no appetite and hadn’t really rested for days. She didn’t want Delphine to worry about her, especially during this happy time, with the wedding and the holidays coming up.

  “Harvey Baker was just in the other day,” Delphine called sunnily from the kitchen, as Glory stood hugging herself and watching the snow swirl lazily past the diner windows. When it got dark, the Pepsi sign would make a pink glow on the white ground. “He’s looking for an assistant over at the bank, you know. Allie Cordman left to take a job in Seattle.”