The Secret Son's Homecoming

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#u83894676-f765-5f75-b9f4-1454c086eac6)

Connie Bedford knew from experience that regrets were pointless. She also knew that foolish behavior could not be undone—only not repeated. And she certainly had no intention of repeating the foolishness she’d carried out with the man standing across the dance floor from her.

Jonah Rickard.

Six feet plus of dark-haired, broad-shouldered, blue-eyed handsomeness that made her knees weak and turned her good sense to mush every time he was within a few feet of her.

Everyone had a weakness, she told herself. For some, it was chocolate or champagne. For others, it was extreme sports and adrenaline rushes. For Connie, it seemed as though it was Jonah. Even though she knew he was bad news and that he didn’t appear to feel anything for her other than disdain.

And she didn’t like him, either. Not really. It was simple chemistry. Alchemy. A straight-up physical reaction. The fact that it was still wreaking havoc with her good sense even though that crazy night had been over ten months ago frustrated her beyond belief. Particularly considering that every time she’d seen him since, each encounter had been even more awkward than the last. And it wasn’t as though anything had really happened. Just a few minutes of insane impulsiveness. It should have been easy to forget.

I’m the master of forgetting things. I can forget this, too.

“Earth to Connie?”

She instantly turned on her heels. Nicola Radici stood behind her. Nicola O’Sullivan now, she corrected herself. And the very reason that Connie was at the O’Sullivan ranch. She’d had three weeks to help prepare her friend for the Cedar River wedding of the year, and she was delighted that the whole day had gone off without any drama. The tent, the tasteful decorations, the lighting, the electric fire pits keeping the cold early November air at bay—it was a dreamy and beautiful event. And Nicola looked amazing in her antique lace gown. Connie was thankful and happy that all the preparations had come together and the bride and groom had had a lovely ceremony. What didn’t make her happy was the fact that Jonah was the groom’s half brother, and since she was a bridesmaid, she knew she was about ten minutes away from being partnered with him on the dance floor.

Because the last thing in the world that she wanted was to be in his arms.

Again.

She shook off the memory of his touch suddenly seeping through her blood and tried to think about anything other than Jonah’s arms, or any other part of him, for that matter. She half turned and faced the bride, plastering a smile on her face that was so sweet it made her teeth hurt.

“Sorry,” she said to the smiling bride. “I’m in personal-assistant mode, just making sure everything’s going off without a hitch.”

Nicola, her beautiful face beaming, grasped Connie’s arm. “You did an amazing job organizing everything so quickly. I can’t thank you enough for making this happen.”

“It wasn’t all my doing,” she said and grinned. “I’m a little OCD and like to be really organized. And you’re my friend, so I wanted to do this.”

“Today wouldn’t have happened without you,” Nicola assured her. “Now, have you seen my handsome husband?”

Connie curled her thumb toward the buffet table. “Over there.”

Sure enough, Kieran O’Sullivan stood by the buffet, alongside his elder brother, Liam, his younger brother, Sean...and Jonah. Half brother to the three O’Sullivan siblings. Born out of a secret relationship their father, J. D. O’Sullivan, had with then-eighteen-year-old Kathleen Rickard. The whole situation was revealed when Liam, the eldest son, eloped with Kayla Rickard, Kathleen’s niece. The Rickards and the O’Sullivans had been sworn enemies for thirty years—and Jonah was the secret spanning those decades. J.D. had, essentially, two separate families. One in Cedar River, South Dakota—the other in Portland, Oregon.

As Liam’s personal assistant at the big O’Sullivan hotel in town, and a family friend, Connie had been privy to the entire situation for the past year. It was complicated and messy and had resulted in the end of J.D. and Gwen O’Sullivan’s thirty-five-year marriage. But for the sake of their children and grandchildren, with some time and effort, the O’Sullivans and the Rickards had somehow managed to put aside their grievances and bitterness and tried to cobble together an uneasy truce from the fallout.

Well, except for Jonah.

He still clearly hated J.D. and resented the fact that his beloved mother had moved back to Cedar River so she could heal her estranged relationship with her own aging mother and brother. Yeah, complicated didn’t cover the half of it. And it wasn’t as though the O’Sullivan brothers hadn’t tried to include Jonah in the reconciliation of the family—including J.D. It was just that Jonah was stubborn and his sole focus appeared to be protecting his mother—and resenting his father.

If she was a sensible woman—and she’d always considered herself to be—Connie knew she would put all thoughts of Jonah out of her mind and forget he existed. Like he had with her. Since he’d pretty much ignored her every time they’d met during the past ten months.

“They really are a good-looking bunch,” Nicola said and grinned, gesturing toward the brothers, who were all dressed in dark gray suits with a flower at the lapel. “Don’t you think?”

Connie managed an idle shrug. “Sure,” she replied, thinking that they were all so handsome it was quite ridiculous. “An unfairly good gene pool.”

As if on cue, Connie noticed, Kieran looked across the tent and made visual contact with his bride. The love between the newlyweds was palpable, and Connie experienced an acute sense of loneliness that made her heart ache. Which was silly, because she never considered herself to be lonely. She had a small circle of friends, and the O’Sullivans, of course, whom she cared for deeply and knew the feeling was reciprocated. But this was different. Nicola and Kieran were in love. Something Connie had never known, and considering her past, she wondered if she ever would. That kind of love imbued complete and utter trust in the other person—and Connie wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to offer that to anyone. Or be vulnerable enough to accept it in return.

“I think I’m wanted,” Nicola said on a sort of dreamy sigh before she gave Connie’s arm a gentle squeeze and then floated across the dance floor.

Connie watched as the bride and groom met, just in time for the music to start. It was an old song, with lyrics about finding someone who made life worthwhile, and before long more members of the wedding party headed out to join them. Dread etched along every nerve she possessed, because Connie knew she was next. She brushed her hands down the long, deep purple–colored dress, made the pointless gesture of smoothing her hair in its perfect chignon and then took a step. And then another. And another.

It took exactly nine steps to reach him, and she experienced the same crazy rush of blood through her veins, the same heightened sense of awareness that being around him evoked. Never in her life had she reacted to anyone the way she reacted to him. And she didn’t understand it. Why Jonah? He was aloof. He was indirectly disrespectful to the O’Sullivans. And he was a horse’s ass. Sure, he was attractive and had incredible blue eyes...but she’d never been particularly drawn to good looks. And since he’d been unconscionably rude to her ten months earlier, she should have gotten over her infatuation, pronto.

She sucked in a breath, took another step and found herself meeting his gaze. Something flickered in his eyes, a kind of intense awareness that weakened her knees and amplified the knowledge that she really was the biggest fool of all time.

“Miss Bedford,” he said and held out his hand.

Connie pressed her mouth together. He never used her first name. He kept the divide between them as wide as he could, and she assumed that focusing on her professional relationship with his family made it easier for him. He obviously didn’t like her. Well, it was a mutual feeling.

Except...she didn’t really want to be that way with Jonah. No, what she felt toward him was something else. Something she didn’t quite have the courage to acknowledge.

She experienced a quiver across her skin as their fingertips connected, and then his hand closed over hers and he drew her closer. The cologne he wore was subtle and masculine and assailed her senses instantly, latching onto her memory like a narcotic. And suddenly she was back inside his hotel room, back feeling his hands roam across her skin, experiencing the possession of his mouth on hers. She’d been all too ready to get lost in the moment of passion... Until another memory had kicked in, one that had a familiar and polarizing effect right to her core.

His grip tightened fractionally, as though he’d recognized she was on the verge of flight mode.

“Relax,” he said quietly, moving one arm around her waist. “It’s just a dance.”

Connie swallowed hard, ignored her pounding heart and told herself he was right. It was just a dance. And it would soon be over. He’d release her. She’d be free to scurry back to the sidelines where she could forget all about her crazy overreaction to Jonah Rickard.

She stepped on his foot and wobbled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said blandly, his hold around her waist firm but unthreatening.

Her eyes barely reached his chin, even in her heels, and she curled one hand over his shoulder, balancing herself. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I noticed.”

One thing about Jonah Rickard—he could make any remark sound like an insult without so much as batting an eyelid. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” she said, aiming for a dig.

His shoulders tensed fractionally. “It’s my half brother’s wedding.”

He always said half brother. He would never acknowledge the O’Sullivans as anything other than an unwanted part of his DNA.

“You didn’t RSVP,” she said, one brow up, trying to keep her feet moving to the ridiculously romantic song playing in the background. “For yourself or a guest.”