Joan Pickart - Just My Joe

Excerpt What Strange Spell Was This Refreshing, Lovely Woman Weaving Around Him? You’d better watch your step, Dillon, Joe told himself. He usually had his guard up automatically when he was in the company of single women. But with Polly? She was so open and honest, so far removed from the social set he was accustomed to. He found himself relaxing, just being himself, Joe Dillon, exactly as he was. Oh, yeah. He most definitely had better watch his step in regard to Polly Chapman. He was treading on foreign turf, where lurking in the shadows there was danger of losing his heart before he knew what hit him.... Letter to Reader Dear Reader, Spring is in the air—and all thoughts turn toward love. With six provocative romances from Silhouette Desire, you too can enjoy a season of new beginnings...and happy endings! Our March MAN OF THE MONTH is Lass Small’s The Best Husband in Texas. This sexy rancher is determined to win over the beautiful widow he’s loved for years! Next, Joan Elliott Pickart returns with a wonderful love story—Just My Joe. Watch sparks fly between handsome, wealthy Joe Dillon and the woman he loves. Don’t miss Beverly Barton’s new miniseries, 3 BABIES FOR 3 BROTHERS, which begins with His Secret Child. The town golden boy is reunited with a former flame—and their child. Popular Anne Marie Winston offers the third tide in her BUTLER COUNTY BRIDES series, as a sexy heroine forms a partnership with her lost love in The Bride Means Business. Then an expectant mom matches wits with a brooding rancher in Carol Grace’s Expecting.... And Virginia Dove debuts explosively with The Bridal Promise, when star-crossed lovers marry for convenience. This spring, please write and tell us why you read Silhouette Desire books. As part of our 20 th anniversary celebration in the year 2000, we’d like to publish some of this fan mail in the books—so drop us a line, tell us how long you’ve been reading Desire books and what you love about the series. And enjoy our March titles! Regards, Joan Marlow Golan Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3 About the Author About the Author JOAN ELLIOTT PICKART is the author of over seventy novels. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys watching football, knitting, reading, gardening and attending craft shows on the town square. Joan has three all-grown-up daughters and a fantastic little grandson. In September of 1995, Joan traveled to China to adopt her fourth daughter, Autumn. Joan and Autumn have settled into their cozy cottage in a charming small town in the high pine country of Arizona. Title Page Just My Joe Joan Elliott Pickart www.millsandboon.co.uk Dedication For Dana, a woman of courage beyond measure. I love you, dear friend. Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Copyright

What Strange Spell Was This Refreshing, Lovely Woman Weaving Around Him?

You’d better watch your step, Dillon, Joe told himself. He usually had his guard up automatically when he was in the company of single women.

But with Polly? She was so open and honest, so far removed from the social set he was accustomed to. He found himself relaxing, just being himself, Joe Dillon, exactly as he was.

Oh, yeah. He most definitely had better watch his step in regard to Polly Chapman. He was treading on foreign turf, where lurking in the shadows there was danger of losing his heart before he knew what hit him....

Dear Reader,

Spring is in the air—and all thoughts turn toward love. With six provocative romances from Silhouette Desire, you too can enjoy a season of new beginnings...and happy endings!

Our March MAN OF THE MONTH is Lass Small’s The Best Husband in Texas. This sexy rancher is determined to win over the beautiful widow he’s loved for years! Next, Joan Elliott Pickart returns with a wonderful love story—Just My Joe. Watch sparks fly between handsome, wealthy Joe Dillon and the woman he loves.

Don’t miss Beverly Barton’s new miniseries, 3 BABIES FOR 3 BROTHERS, which begins with His Secret Child. The town golden boy is reunited with a former flame—and their child. Popular Anne Marie Winston offers the third tide in her BUTLER COUNTY BRIDES series, as a sexy heroine forms a partnership with her lost love in The Bride Means Business. Then an expectant mom matches wits with a brooding rancher in Carol Grace’s Expecting.... And Virginia Dove debuts explosively with The Bridal Promise, when star-crossed lovers marry for convenience.

This spring, please write and tell us why you read Silhouette Desire books. As part of our 20 thanniversary celebration in the year 2000, we’d like to publish some of this fan mail in the books—so drop us a line, tell us how long you’ve been reading Desire books and what you love about the series. And enjoy our March titles!

Regards,

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Just My Joe

Joan Elliott Pickart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author

JOAN ELLIOTT PICKARTis the author of over seventy novels. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys watching football, knitting, reading, gardening and attending craft shows on the town square. Joan has three all-grown-up daughters and a fantastic little grandson. In September of 1995, Joan traveled to China to adopt her fourth daughter, Autumn. Joan and Autumn have settled into their cozy cottage in a charming small town in the high pine country of Arizona.

For Dana, a woman of courage

beyond measure.

I love you, dear friend.

One

“Call the cops. Call the cops.”

Polly Chapman rolled her eyes heavenward as she heard the scratchy-voice command.

“Hush, Jazzy,” Polly said, then pressed on the brake as she came to a red light The ancient van she was driving shuddered and shook as it idled. “We have no need for an officer of the law.” She glanced quickly around the shabby neighborhood. “Well, not at the moment, anyway. Hold that thought, though.”

“Call the cops,” Jazzy squawked.

“Oh, brother,” Polly muttered, starting off again as the light turned green. -

She shot a glare at the talkative creature in the passenger seat. Jazzy was a brightly colored and definitely opinionated macaw that was traveling in a large, bellshaped cage. His feathers were glossy, vibrant shades of green, orange, red and yellow, and he was perched on a swing in the middle of the cage, as though determined not to miss seeing anything that might be happening.

At the next red light, Polly shifted in her seat as much as the seat belt would allow, making certain that all the doors of the vehicle were securely locked.

It had taken over an hour to drive from the northwest section of Tucson to the far south side. Now with each passing block, bleak poverty seemed to shout at her from all directions.

The buildings were old and many were decorated with sprawling graffiti, the message not always discernable. Some of the windows of stores were boarded, others whitewashed, then suddenly there would appear a store with a faded Open sign hanging on the door.

Polly frowned in dismay as she saw several people curled up in doorways, either sleeping or simply ignoring the dismal world around them. A few people strolled along the trash-cluttered sidewalk, obviously in no rush to get where they were going.

She’d heard of south Tucson, of course, but she’d never had any reason to come into this area. It had a reputation of a high crime rate, gangs on the prowl and danger. Now that she was there, she most definitely wished that she wasn’t.

She glanced quickly at the map drawn on a piece of paper next to her on the seat, then began to look for street signs, many of which were missing from the metal poles.

With a sigh of relief, Polly found the street she was seeking and turned right, the map indicating that she should go five blocks to reach her destination.

A cloud settled over the sun, dropping a gray curtain on the area and emphasizing the dreary aura of the residential neighborhood she was now driving through. The houses were small, some exhibiting an attempt at pride of ownership, others seeming to shout the message of a total lack of caring.

Polly shivered, partly from the cool temperature of the overcast November day, and partly from a sense of struggle and despair that seemed to be sifting into the van and touching her with chilling fingers.

“Call the cops,” Jazzy squawked.

“No, not the cops, Jazzy,” Polly said quietly. “What’s needed here is whole platoon of guardian angels, or fairy godmothers with magic wands.”

“Silly girl,” Jazzy said. “Silly girl.”

“Thanks a lot,” Polly said, shooting the macaw a dark glare. “I don’t know why I bother to try to have a conversation with you. You’re just so opinionated and judgmental.”

“Fix some soup,” Jazzy said.

“And sexist,” Polly added. “Fix your own dumb soup. I’m not your maid.” She shook her head. “Why am I talking to this bird? Just shut up, Polly Chapman.”

“Polly want a cracker?” Jazzy said.

“That,” she said, “is not funny. I could wring Robert’s neck for teaching you to say that.”

“Polly want a cracker?”

“No!”

Polly slowed her speed, pressed on the brake, then leaned forward for a better look, as she realized she’d found what she was searching for.

“Abraham Lincoln High School,” she said aloud. “Grim, very grim.”

The four-story building was obviously ancient, the red bricks crumbling at the corners and the windows having a strange yellow cast to them. There was another structure that appeared newer; it was to the right and behind the main building. The sign on the second, one-story creation announced that it was the Multipurpose Building.

“That’s where we’re headed, Jazzy,” Polly said. “We’re among the multipurpose rank and file today. Now to find somewhere to park.”

It was another two blocks before Polly discovered a tight-squeeze parking place on the street. She twisted the rearview mirror to check her appearance.

That’s as good as it gets, she thought. She was twenty-four years old and still got carded in bars. Nothing she tried made her look any older.

Her short, naturally curly blond hair, blue eyes and the dusting of freckles across her nose combined into a face that caused her to prove her true age time and again.

“Oh, well,” she mused, with a shrug, “look at the bright side. I’ll be the envy of the masses when I’m forty and look thirty. Right, Jazzy?”

“Right, Jazzy,” the macaw repeated.

“Write that down. You actually agreed with something I said.” Polly paused. “Well, let’s trudge back to Abraham Lincoln High School. Duty calls.”

“Show biz,” Jazzy said. “Show biz.”

“Whatever,” Polly muttered.

Joe Dillon stood at one end of the Multipurpose Building, a clipboard in his hand. He was oblivious to the high volume of noise created by five hundred students talking and laughing. An army sergeant in full uniform stood in front of Joe.