A Man Not Her Own Read online

  Mitch rolled down the window, turned his body toward Sarah and leaned against the door. “Might as well make ourselves comfortable.”

  Sarah followed suit and they faced each other in the small confines of the car. The scent of his spicy aftershave wafted over to her side and she inhaled deeply. Mitch always smelled good. She’d noticed it when he’d been dating Jeanie, and she definitely noticed it now.

  He crossed his arms against his chest, his biceps straining against the sleeves of his Western-cut, button-down shirt. He’d dressed for their “date”, although he wore the standard jeans and cowboy boots. As usual, his five o’clock shadow darkened his cheeks and chin; only it was more pronounced this late in the evening.

  He looked dangerous and sexy sitting there. Sarah wished with all her heart she didn’t have the issues she’d been dealing with for the past decade or more. She wished she could just enjoy being with Mitch and let nature take its course. She wished he’d take her in his arms again, kiss her like he had... Was it only three nights ago?

  It felt like a lifetime.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, Sarah?”

  Did she have to? Couldn’t he just kiss away her fears? She wished he could, but knew better. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “The beginning is usually best.”

  Praise for the Her Reluctant Rancher

  by Anne Marie Novark

  “This is the first book I have read by Ms. Novark but it will not be my last. Her characters are strong and passionate and she takes the reader along for an emotional ride through her story!”

  ~Steph B. of The Romance Studio

  “I loved reading a western romance that wasn’t historical. Seeing contemporary cowboys and how they live today was a wonderful story. I’ve heard that everything is bigger in Texas, but didn’t think that would mean the sex scenes as well. Get a tall glass of lemonade since this book is hot!”

  ~Robyn from Once Upon a Romance Review

  Chasing

  the

  Moonlight

  by

  Anne Marie Novark

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Chasing the Moonlight

  COPYRIGHT Ó 2009 by Anne Marie Novark

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress. com

  Cover Art by Kim Mendoza

  The Wild Rose Press

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www. thewildrosepress. com

  Publishing History

  First Yellow Rose Edition, 2010

  PRINT ISBN 1-60154-656-4

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Gene and Carrie.

  You never cease to amaze and inspire me.

  Chapter One

  “The fudge is ready, sweetie. Do you want to lick the spoon?”

  Sarah Cooper crossed the living room to where her eight-year-old son stood with his nose pressed against the large picture window overlooking the front yard. “What in the world are you looking at?” She handed him the chocolate-covered spoon and ruffled his red hair, smoothing it back.

  Josh ducked away. “Aw, Mom.”

  Sarah touched his freckled cheek, then let her hand fall to her side. Josh didn’t want to hug and snuggle as often as he used to. It was normal, all a part of growing up, yet it still made her heart ache a little.

  He licked the gooey chocolate from the spoon, getting as much on his face as he did in his mouth. Sarah laughed and he smiled as he spun around and pressed his nose to the glass again, smearing chocolate across the windowpane.

  “What’s going on out there?” Sarah stepped behind him to peer out the window.

  “We’re getting new neighbors. I hope they have kids.” He tipped his head back against her stomach and looked up at her with those big green eyes. Ryan’s eyes.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Sarah swooped down to kiss his forehead, before he could get away.

  Josh nodded and looked out the window again. So did Sarah. “Oh wow, look!” he said. “There’s a pizza van and some cars pulling up. I don’t see any kids, though.”

  Car doors swung open and people began piling out. Good grief. Is the whole Defalco family delivering this order of pizza? Defalco’s Italian Restaurant was popular among the citizens of Stone Creek, Texas. Sarah had never eaten there, and probably never would.

  “Let’s take some fudge next door,” Josh said.

  “Sweetie, I don’t think—”

  “Aw, Mom. You always say we should try to be good neighbors. Please?”

  Sarah didn’t really want to, yet she couldn’t resist the pleading look in her son’s eyes. “Go wash your face, and I’ll wrap some fudge.”

  “All right! I’ll meet you on the porch in ten seconds flat!” He took off at a run, his tennis shoes clomping on the oak floor.

  “Don’t run!” Sarah called after him.

  He slowed down and dragged his feet. “Aw, Mom.”

  Five minutes later, Sarah walked out into the cool March evening. Seven o’clock and the sun was still fairly high in the sky, barely beginning its descent toward the horizon.

  Taking fudge to new neighbors wasn’t something she would normally do. Josh was right, though; it was a nice friendly gesture. She smoothed the plastic wrap more tightly around the plate of fudge. Josh skipped along beside her, happy as a lark. He was so much like his father. Ryan had been thoughtful and outgoing, too.

  Damn, it had almost been three years since he’d died in that car accident. Sarah still missed him dreadfully. He’d been her guiding light for so long—

  The deafening roar of an engine cut off her thoughts.

  “Oh, cool!” Josh said. “A motorcycle!” Like a rocket, he shot across the lawn.

  Sarah froze at the edge of her yard and stared at the man pulling up on the motorcycle. He was wearing a leather bomber jacket, aviator sunglasses and black cowboy boots.

  Good lord. Mitch Defalco.

  She squashed the cowardly urge to turn tail and run back to the house. She couldn’t be rude; besides, Josh wouldn’t understand.

  As soon as Mitch cut the engine, a young girl jumped off from behind him, removed her safety helmet and shook out long blonde hair. She looked to be around fifteen or sixteen. Her eyes were like Mitch’s, even though Sarah couldn’t see his yet. But she remembered. Lord, how she remembered. Eyes so dark brown, they were almost black, and always sparkling with a dangerous glint.

  Too late to retreat, Sarah pasted a smile on her face and walked across the narrow expanse of grass to the driveway next door. Just deliver the fudge and say goodbye.

  “Hello, Mitch,” she said, glad her voice sounded normal.

  “Well, well, well.” He removed his helmet and the sunglasses. “If it isn’t Sarah Smiles—all grown up.”

  Sarah ignored the little thrill evoked by his old nickname for her. Harder to ignore were those dark eyes skimming her from the top of her flyaway hair, down the front of her peasant blouse and long paisley skirt, resting a moment on her pink painted toenails peeking out from her sandals.

  Her toes curled, and Mitch’s gaze snapped back to her face. He stared into her eyes, and Sarah felt as if he could see into her soul. She wanted to wiggle and duck away li
ke Josh did when she hugged him. Mitch Defalco had always made her feel this way, but she wasn’t a silly teenager any longer. “What’s brought you back to town?” she asked. “Visiting your family?”

  “Yes and no.” Mitch swung his long jean-clad leg over the saddle of the motorcycle and planted his booted feet on the driveway. He stuffed his glasses in his pocket, never taking his eyes off Sarah. “I’m moving back to Stone Creek.”

  “What?”She nearly dropped the fudge.

  Mitch deftly caught the plate and her hands, his touch shooting sparks of heat all the way up her arms. He promptly let go.

  “I’m moving back,” he said again. “This is my daughter, Lindsey. Lindsey, this is Sarah... uh, obviously not Nicholson any longer, if this is your son?”

  His daughter? Sarah tried desperately to recover her composure. “Hi, I’m Sarah Cooper and this is Josh. Nice to meet you, Lindsey. I made a batch of fudge and Josh wanted to bring some over. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

  The girl didn’t take the plate. “Chocolate breaks me out.” She turned on her heels and marched toward the house.

  “Lindsey!” Mitch’s voice held a note of steel.

  The girl stopped in her tracks. “What?” she said, not turning around.

  “Come back here and apologize.”

  Lindsey spun around, hand on hip, the epitome of a tortured teen. She had an attitude. Just like her father. Her father? Sarah was having a hard time wrapping her brain around the fact that Mitch Defalco was a father. She was having a harder time thinking about him moving next door.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cooper.” She glared at Mitch. “Now can I go inside?”

  Mitch frowned and nodded. “Tell Grandma I’ll be there in a minute. And take the fudge inside.”

  “Sure, whatever.” She grabbed the plate, whipped around and stomped up the steps to the porch.

  Mitch turned back to Sarah. “Sorry about that. She lost her mother recently and—”

  “Oh, no!” Sarah’s heart ached for the girl and for her father. “I’m sorry, Mitch. I know how difficult it is to lose someone you love.”

  Mitch shook his head. “I wasn’t married to Lindsey’s mother. I didn’t know I had a daughter until a couple of months ago.” He stretched his neck, hunching his shoulders. “It’s a long story.”

  “And you’ve traveled a long way,” Sarah said, trying to gather her scattered thoughts and feelings. Oh yeah. Mitch had always affected her like this. “Listen, it’s good to see you, but I need to get back home. We can catch up another time. Come along, Josh.”

  But Josh wasn’t listening. He was walking around the motorcycle, eyes wide and appreciative, reverently touching the shining chrome, the black leather of the saddle. “Hey, mister. This sure is a cool motorcycle.”

  “You want to sit on it, pal?” Before Josh could answer or Sarah protest, Mitch swung him up and settled him on the seat.

  “I really don’t think—” Sarah didn’t know what to think. Things were getting out of control very quickly.

  “Relax,” Mitch said. “It won’t hurt him to sit there a minute.”

  “I don’t like motorcycles,” Sarah said. “They scare me.”

  “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” Mitch grinned. Two dimples appeared on either side of his mouth. They’d always fascinated Sarah. They fascinated her now.

  Oh yeah. She needed to get away. Soon. As in, right now. He was dangerous. Big, dark and dangerous.

  She lifted Josh from the bike and set him on the ground. “Come on, time to clean the kitchen and get everything ready for school tomorrow.”

  “Aw, Mom!”

  “No arguing. Let’s go.”

  Josh didn’t budge. Instead, he looked up at Mitch and smiled. “Thanks for letting me sit on your motorcycle. Maybe, one of these days, I could... Maybe you could give me a ride?”

  “Sure thing, sport. As soon as I get settled in, that’ll be one of the first things on my list.”

  “Absolutely not,” Sarah said.

  “Aw, Mom!”

  “Aw, Mom!” Mitch mimicked Josh’s plea, his mocha brown eyes daring, challenging. “I won’t let anything happen to him. Lindsey and I rode all the way from California. Perfectly safe, I promise.”

  “See?” Josh said. “Please, Mom?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t want you riding motorcycles. You might get hurt.”

  “Mo-om!”

  To Sarah’s surprise, Mitch gripped Josh’s shoulder. “Don’t argue with your mother, son. Maybe she’ll come around, one of these days.” He caught her gaze, smiling in a way that made her whole body go limp and wobbly. Not good.

  “I’ll... I’ll think about it,” she managed to say.

  “You do that. Thanks for the fudge, by the way.”

  “No problem.” Sarah inhaled a shaky breath. “Welcome back to Stone Creek.” Grabbing Josh’s hand, she walked quickly toward her house and away from the danger of Mitch Defalco.

  ****

  Mitch watched Sarah practically drag her son across the lawn, up the porch and into the blue Victorian-style house next door.

  Jeanie’s younger sister had grown into a beautiful woman. Sarah had been a scrawny little thing last time he’d seen her—all legs and arms and nervous smiles. At least, she’d been nervous around her older sister’s bad-ass boyfriend. And Mitch had to admit, he’d done his part to make her feel that way. Sarah had been in junior high when he and Jeanie had dated their senior year.

  Two sisters, yet so different. Jeanie had been the wild child; Sarah, the meek obedient one. She still looked gentle and meek for the most part, but he’d seen the streak of fire simmering beneath the surface. Especially where the safety of her boy was concerned.

  Damn, he hadn’t thought about Jeanie in a long time. It was a shame what had happened to her. Tragic, in fact, but it hadn’t been his fault. For the first time in his adolescent life, Mitch had been innocent of any wrongdoing.

  He started up the walk toward his new house. He may have been innocent where Jeanie Nicholson had been concerned, but he’d committed plenty of indiscretions in his past and now he was paying for one of them. In spades.

  On the porch, Mitch paid off the movers and watched them drive away. Rubbing the back of his neck to ease the stiffness, he opened the screen door and walked inside. Packing boxes littered the entryway and the two rooms in front. Voices echoed from the back of the house.

  At the end of the long dim hall, he stopped in the kitchen doorway and watched his family gather round the table. His mom passed out paper plates and napkins, while his brother Marco set a huge pan of lasagna in the middle of the table. Judith placed a large bowl of salad next to it.

  “Don’t just stand there, Dad,” his brother Paul said from behind him. “Get your fatherly butt in there and sit down.”

  “I sure as hell don’t feel fatherly,” Mitch grumbled under his breath. “I’ve been breaking out in cold sweats ever since Lindsey showed up on my doorstep.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I hear you. So you sold everything in L.A. and came back home. Smart move, bro. We’ll help you with Lindsey. Now get going!” Paul pushed him the rest of the way into the kitchen.

  Lindsey stood in one corner, arms crossed, lips tight, but eyes wide. Mitch pulled out a chair for her. “Here you go, kiddo. Come sit down.”

  He waited, wondering if she’d budge. She was sullen and snotty, hurt and angry. She hadn’t told him much about her life—only enough to give him nightmares.

  “Come on, Lindsey,” Mitch said, aware of his family’s curious eyes. “You must be starving. We haven’t eaten since noon.”

  “Yes, dear. Do sit down,” his mother said in her gentle voice. “Supper’s ready. I bet you didn’t know you had uncles who could cook like this, huh?” She led her new granddaughter to the chair Mitch held at the ready. Lindsey threw him a look, then plopped down and almost jerked the chair from his grasp, scooting it closer to the table.

  His mother watched the interacti
on with a sad look in her blue eyes. Was she remembering the many altercations they’d had when he was Lindsey’s age?

  Mitch sat next to his daughter and everyone bowed their heads as Vivian Defalco said grace. He glanced sideways and grinned at the astonishment on Lindsey’s face. She peeked his way and Mitch winked. For the first time since he’d met her, she almost smiled. Almost. Quickly ducking her head, she clasped her hands together while his mother finished the prayer.

  “Amen,” Vivian said. “Now who wants lasagna? Lindsey? You like lasagna, right? Well, of course you do. You’re a Defalco. Hand your plate to Uncle Marco and he’ll serve you. Who wants garlic bread?”

  Mitch snagged a piece and passed the basket to Lindsey. For a moment, she didn’t take it. She sat frozen in her seat, looking around in amazement. After the prayer, loud conversation volleyed across the table, plates passed back and forth, and the usual Defalco pandemonium ensued.

  “Want some bread?” Mitch waved the basket under her nose. Lindsey blinked, took the basket and helped herself, then passed it down.

  Mitch smiled. His daughter was in for a rude awakening. If she thought living with him in L.A. had been difficult, just wait. Living in Stone Creek in the midst of his very Italian, very Catholic family was going to be like living on an alien planet.

  ****

  Had she fallen off the face of the Earth, or what? Lindsey sat on her bed on the second floor of Mitch’s—she refused to call him Dad—Mitch’s house. She’d seen pictures in magazines like this kind of house with the gingerbread trim and wide porches. But never in person. Movies and television, yes. In real life? No way.

  Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d live in a house this big or this cool or this fancy. It wasn’t much to look at inside yet, but Mitch said they’d go shopping and she could help pick out new furniture and all kinds of stuff for the house.

  Lindsey wanted to pinch herself to make sure this was real and she wasn’t dreaming. She’d lived most of her life dreaming, in order to escape the dreary, sometimes scary life she’d lived with her drug-addicted mother.