From The Ashes

From The Ashes
Sharon Mignerey

She couldn't hide forever. Animal trainer Angela London had never stopped looking over her shoulder. Her extraordinary skill with guide dogs had won her a handsome celebrity client, ex-football player Brian Ramsey, and helping him cope with the loss of his vision was awakening powerful feelings in her heart. But she feared his reaction if he ever discovered the truth about her dark past…As Christmas approached, a vengeful enemy targeted Angela, bent on destroying her newfound happiness. Now she had to thwart a dangerous threat–with Brian's help–or risk losing a love that promised to redeem them both.

From the Ashes

Sharon Mignerey

In memory of my mother, Thelma Anis Black

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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 NINETEEN

Acknowledgments

My deepest gratitude goes to the Clinton family—Willie Jr., Sajuana and Shanelle who so generously shared their experiences with sight loss, especially their wonderful stories about Willie’s guide dogs Jada (his current dog) and Elton (who is now retired). I also need to thank Russ Burcham, M.D., who patiently answered my questions concerning glaucoma and sight loss—if there are mistakes in the book, they are mine and are no reflection on him.

A special thank-you to my proofreader, Danielle, whose sharp eyes and attention to detail are invaluable.

ONE

For we walk by faith, not by sight.

—II Corinthians, 5:7

“Hey, doll face.”

It was a nickname—and a voice—Angela London had never wanted to hear again. She searched the crowd for the man who had betrayed her. There he was leaning against the wall near a drinking fountain, looking as though he belonged—which he didn’t. Looking as though he could be one of the businessmen leaving the monthly luncheon for the chamber of commerce—which he wasn’t. Any business he had would be on the shady side of the law.

Tommy Manderoll was dead last on any list of people she wanted to see. Smiling as though he were welcome, he started toward her.

“Angela,” a woman said, coming to a stop next to her. “Thanks so much for your talk. The work you’re doing is so needed. Wonderful, really.” She patted Polly, wearing her service-dog-in-training vest and sitting at Angela’s feet, then pressed a check into her hand. “You’re making such a difference with Guardian Paws.”

“I hope so.” She glanced down at the check, the donation beyond generous. “Thank you. You’re sure you wouldn’t rather put this in the prepaid envelope that was in your packet?”

She shook her head. “I’m giving that to my boss.” The woman squeezed her arm and moved away.

“You are the woman of the hour,” Tommy said, coming to a stop in front of her, adjusting his tie in a gesture of preening that was second nature to him. “The outfit almost goes with the dog.”

There wasn’t a single thing wrong with the taupe, tailored, below-the-knee skirt and knit twinset she was wearing, but she still took the statement as an insult. This was the new Angela London, the one who didn’t like men like Tommy Manderoll and who didn’t wear the flashy clothes that attracted them.

She was prevented from answering when a deep voice inquired, “Miss London?”

The vaguely familiar-looking man who approached her was tall, with broad shoulders and a chiseled face that would have been perfect in a razor commercial. He offered his hand. She automatically took it and had the fleeting thought that his smile was meant only for her as his broad palm enveloped her smaller hand.

“Being here today was an answer to a prayer,” he said. “But you probably hear that all the time. I’m Brian Ramsey.”

“Nice to meet you.” The name, like his face, was familiar, though she couldn’t have said from where. Probably thirtysomething, though his eyes seemed older somehow. The niggle that she should know him, or at least know of him, didn’t go away as she took in his aura of confidence and the superb fit of his sports coat.

“I need a dog.” An indefinable expression chased across his face, and he took a breath before asking, “When would be a good time to call you?”

“That’s something I’d like to know, too,” Tommy interrupted. “Miss London, when would be a good time to call?”

Angela looked from Brian to her ex-boyfriend, the man she had never wanted to see again.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said. “I’ve caught you at a bad time—”

“No.” Angela touched the back of his hand when he would have walked away. She swallowed against the giddy feeling that heated her cheeks when his tawny, golden-brown gaze settled on her face. “Do you have a card so I can call you?”

“Sure.” Shifting his wool top coat to the other arm, he retrieved a slim wallet from his navy sports coat and pulled out a card. “I look forward to hearing from you.” Then, glancing down at Polly, he asked, “What kind of dog is she?”