A Vow to Keep

A Vow to Keep
Cara Colter

JPromises could break hearts and ruin friendships, but still Rick Chase found himself promising to step I back into Linda Starr's life, to help his old friend get used to her empty nest. He'd offer her a job, and (then his duty would be done…at least that was his plan beforehe met the woman she'd become. Classy, refined, Linda had blossomed into a woman of spirit, passion and unmatched beauty. The kind of woman who made his bachelor lifestyle seem…lacking.And wasn't that the problem with promises? They required more of a man than he expected to give–with the potential to reward him with more than he ever imagined!

She turned to face her fate.

An intruder, she thought, would have been much easier to handle.

Did he have to see her like this? Her pajamas, which had seemed to be making such a statement about the new her—not caring about the opinions of others, eccentric, free—now made her feel vulnerable in front of the kind of man a woman did not want to see without her makeup on.

Rick Chase was six feet of utter male appeal. He was tall, broad shouldered, the perfection of an impeccably cut suit accentuating rather than disguising the sleek power of his build.

How was it possible she’d forgotten how handsome he was? Or maybe she’d just refused to think about it, about him.

Because the one thing her battle-scarred emotions did not need was a complication like the one that had just materialized at her front door.

Dear Reader,

I grew up in Calgary, and have a delightful memory of being twelve years old and taking the bus downtown with friends. Naturally, we spent our return bus fare on milk shakes at the Hudson’s Bay Company and had to walk home.

An hour or two later, at the halfway point, we made a pit stop at my friend Mary McGuire’s grandmother’s house, in Calgary’s very posh Mount Royal neighborhood, where we were fortified with cookies.

Even now, some thirty-odd years later, I can remember that house. I remember the hardwood floors and the windows, the staircase, a covered porch off one of the upstairs bedrooms, a huge yard. But most of all I remember the feeling of that house—gracious and dignified, a witness to the ebb and flow of love and of life. I have been fascinated with old houses ever since, and if I wasn’t a writer I would love to have the job Linda Starr has in this book!

I hope you enjoy reading her story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Cara Colter

A Vow to Keep

Cara Colter

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CARA COLTER

and her real-life hero, Rob, live on an acreage in British Columbia. Their cat, Hunter, graciously shares his house with them. They own seven horses, including two new “babies”—Wiener and Schnitzel, a pair of Fjord cross colts.

Cara Colter on A Vow To Keep:

“My partner, Rob, is a building contractor, and he hates old houses. The only mysteries they reveal to his pragmatic soul are walls that are out of square and wiring that needs to be redone. A proud new owner of a historic home once asked Rob what he thought the house needed, and Rob looked him straight in the eye and said, ‘A match.’ I, on the other hand, am a complete romantic and love old houses. I think they are our history, and that the walls hold songs and stories.”

You can reach Cara at www.cara-colter.com

Dedicated to the people of the city of Calgary

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE (#ua0b10576-7eac-5c3f-b659-c8232772700d)

CHAPTER ONE (#u42f3e536-7fac-5187-91af-f1c43bfa41fb)

CHAPTER TWO (#u781f92c9-30c5-5a68-86f9-4ba84474e9ce)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE

THE ringing of the phone was shrill and incessant. Rick Chase startled awake, glanced at his bedside clock. Red digits flashed 4:00 a.m.

No good ever came from a phone ringing in the darkest hours of the night.

He picked up the receiver, aware he was braced for the worst, and hoping for a drunk who had dialed the wrong number.

“Hello?”

“Uncle Rick?”

The last vestiges of sleep were gone. He sat up in bed, the blankets falling away from his naked chest. He fumbled for the light on his night table, as if being able to see would help him hear better.

“Bobbi?”

“Sorry to wake you. I wanted to talk to you before I went to class.”

Class? At four in the morning? And then he remembered. His goddaughter was taking her first year of university in Ontario, two thousand miles—and a three-hour time difference—from Calgary.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” A tremble in her voice said maybe she wasn’t.

“What’s up, Bo-Bo?” He used her childhood nickname by instinct, knowing it would make her feel safe and listened to, but then he was sorry he had, because it reminded him of her on her tricycle, pigtails flying, days gone that were never coming back. Happy days, uncomplicated.

“I’m worried about my mom,” she wailed.

A fist closed around his heart. He was amazed that his voice sounded as calm as it did when he said, “What about your mom? What about Linda?”

“Did you know she sold our house?”