Carla Cassidy - In a Heartbeat

Hannah said. “Mr. Man is here.”

Caleb McMann, Erica’s own personal version of Mr. Rogers in the neighborhood, stood holding a tray with three tall glasses of pink lemonade.

However, Mr. Rogers would never appear shirtless, nor would he look as good as Caleb did at the moment. Caleb, with his expanse of tanned, muscled chest and a flirtatious smattering of dark chest hair, banished all pretense of relaxation.

This man is dangerous, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her head. He was temptation to all the things Erica had put behind her, all the emotions she’d sworn she’d never feel again. He was a man to be avoided at all costs.

What was he doing here? Why did he seem so intent on being friendly with her, popping in and out of her house, fixing sinks, building tree houses, bearing doughnuts and lemonade?

What did he want from her?

Dear Reader,

Once again Intimate Moments is offering you six exciting and romantic reading choices, starting with Rogue’s Reform by perennial reader favorite Marilyn Pappano. This latest title in her popular HEARTBREAK CANYON miniseries features a hero who’d spent his life courting trouble—until he found himself courting the lovely woman carrying his child after one night of unforgettable passion.

Award-winner Kathleen Creighton goes back INTO THE HEARTLAND with The Cowboy’s Hidden Agenda, a compelling tale of secret identity and kidnapping—and an irresistible hero by the name of Johnny Bronco. Carla Cassidy’s In a Heartbeat will have you smiling through tears. In other words, it provides a perfect emotional experience. In Anything for Her Marriage, Karen Templeton proves why readers look forward to her books, telling a tale of a pregnant bride, a marriage of convenience and love that knows no limits. With Every Little Thing Linda Winstead Jones makes a return to the line, offering a romantic and suspenseful pairing of opposites. Finally, welcome Linda Castillo, who debuts with Remember the Night. You’ll certainly remember her and be looking forward to her return.

Enjoy—and come back next month for still more of the best and most exciting romantic reading around, available every month only in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my mother,

who, despite her own heart condition,

has lived her life with courage and humor

and has filled my life with love.

Thanks, Mom,

for being a woman I not only love

but also admire with all my heart.

is an award-winning author who has written over thirty-five books for Silhouette. In 1995 she won Best Silhouette Romance from Romantic Times Magazine for Anything for Danny. In 1998 she also won a Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times Magazine for Best Innovative series.

Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

“Mr. McMann! Wait.”

Caleb turned to see the doorman hurrying toward him, a large package in the man’s arms. “Evening, Ricky,” Caleb replied.

The young man flashed Caleb a friendly smile. “How you doing, sir? Haven’t seen you around much these past few months.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of traveling. But, as always, it’s good to get home.” Caleb punched the elevator button.

“It’s nice to have you back.” Ricky held out the package. “This came for you today.”

“Thanks.” The elevator dinged and the door swooshed open. With a parting nod to Ricky, Caleb stepped into the elevator and pressed the button that would take him to his penthouse apartment.

As the elevator carried him up, he looked at the return label on the brown wrapped package. It was from his aunt Fanny. He groaned inwardly. No telling what it contained.

Old age had given Fanny a dose of senility marked by occasional moments of semi-clarity. And in those moments she often sent a gift to her favorite nephew. Sometimes extravagant, sometimes inexpensive, the gifts were almost always utterly useless and often just plain odd.

He shifted the package from one arm to the other as he unlocked his apartment door. There was no sense of welcome as he entered the elegant suite. He’d lived here for almost nine months, but had done almost nothing to make the place his own. It was as sterile and impersonal as the hotel rooms he stayed in while traveling.

He tossed the package on the sofa, then went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. As he walked back toward the living room he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar.

Sinking onto the sofa, he opened his beer, took a deep swallow, then leaned back and sighed in exhaustion. It felt as if he’d been on the run forever, looking over building sites, supervising construction, fighting with zoning commissions, and cursing inclement weather conditions.

He had huge jobs going on in a dozen states, had made more money in the last year than he’d ever spend in his lifetime. But tonight, he was just plain tired…tired of flights, tired of strange motel rooms, tired of work and all the hassles that came with being the owner of a multimillion-dollar construction company.

He finished his beer and returned to the kitchen for a second one. The empty apartment seemed to close in on him, and the silence became suffocating.

Back on the sofa he jabbed the button on the remote to turn on the television, welcoming the white noise that filled the stifling void.

Twisting off the top of the new beer, he eyed the package next to him, trying to guess what Fanny might have sent him. Her last gift had been an ashtray in the shape of a football stadium. Caleb had never smoked in his life.

He set his beer on the coffee table and picked up the package. It took him only seconds to rip away the brown wrapping paper and reveal a plain white oblong box. He pulled off the lid and gently shoved aside the pale pink tissue paper.

His breath hissed inward as he stared at the porcelain-faced, ruffle-clad doll with painted features and long, golden curls. Scarcely breathing, Caleb picked up the card that rested near the doll’s feet.

A birthday card.

For Katie.

Katie Rose McMann’s birthday was in two days. She would have been seven.

If she hadn’t died.

His crazy aunt Fanny had remembered Katie’s birthday, but had somehow forgotten that she’d passed away nine months before.

A burst of laughter exploded from Caleb’s lips, hysterical laughter that turned into a deep, wrenching sob.

He swallowed against it, fighting for control. He’d done so well. For the past nine months he’d managed to keep command over his emotions, but he felt his control slipping away as another sob choked in his throat.

He stood abruptly, the doll sliding from his lap, banging into the table and tipping over his beer bottle. He had to go…had to escape…had to get away from the dark despair that suddenly blinded him, threatened to paralyze him…threatened to consume him.

Katie. Her name reverberated in his brain, bringing with it a vision of her beloved face. That funny little grin, those bright blue eyes, the mop of golden curls and the chubby cheeks that made her appear half cherub, half pixie.

He stumbled to the French doors that led out onto a balcony. Air. He needed air. God…he couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe? What was wrong with him?

But he knew. Grief. He’d been running away from it for the last nine months, but now it had found him. It ripped at him, tore at his insides and he gripped his head with his hands as inchoate moans escaped him.

He stepped outside into the cool air. “Katie.” Her name began as a wail, then swelled inside him until he was screaming it over and over again, sobs shaking him as the night wind blew the sound of her name away.

He screamed her name until it was nothing more than a hoarse whisper of anguish. If only he hadn’t been in such a hurry that day. If only he’d made certain her seat belt was fastened. If only he’d been able to evade the truck that appeared out of nowhere and slammed into their car. But all the if-onlys in the world didn’t matter now. Katie was gone and nothing would ever bring her back again.

Carelessness had killed her. The carelessness of a tired truck driver, and Caleb’s own negligence had killed his baby girl.

He crumbled to the ground, his head bowed to his knees as tears blinded him. Never again would he hold her in his arms, smell the sweet scent of sunshine and bubble bath.

Never again would he see that special little smile, hear the childish giggles that had always made him grin despite his mood. And never again would he feel her warm little arms around his neck, hear her whisper in that beloved young voice, “I love you, Daddy Doodle.”

Grief could kill a man. Caleb knew he had to be dying. The pain in his heart was too great to bear, the emptiness in his soul too abysmal to survive.

It was said that people were never given more burdens than they could handle…but somewhere a mistake had been made. There had been too much loss in Caleb’s life. He’d grieved when his wife had died five years ago, but the grief had been necessarily short-lived. He’d had two-year-old Katie to raise, to nurture and love.

But this…this loss of his child was too much to bear. He wasn’t strong enough for this. How was he supposed to continue existing without the little girl who’d been his world, his life, his heart?

He had no idea how long he remained on the balcony. He cried until there were no more tears, cursed until there were no more words, and finally there was nothing left inside him except a chilling bleakness, an excruciating emptiness.

Wearily, not knowing how to go on, yet not knowing how not to, he pulled himself up and stumbled back into the apartment.

Depleted of energy, drained of emotion, he picked up the box containing the doll that had been the catalyst for his grief and placed the lid back on it. He uprighted the fallen beer bottle and sank onto the sofa.

His eyes felt gritty and his throat burned, but these were only mild discomforts compared to the pain in his heart. He could build enormous buildings, take raw wood and construct beautiful, lasting furniture, but he didn’t know how to piece his soul back together.

Dully, he stared at the television, where the late-night news was just winding down.

“And we end our newscast tonight with a happy story,” the perky blond announcer exclaimed. “Last week we brought you the story of sixteen-year-old Maria Lomax, who’d been blind since birth. Tonight, Maria can see, thanks to a miracle of modern medicine and through the generosity of a very special couple.”

The announcer’s picture disappeared and the screen filled with a picture of a hospital room where a lovely young girl was crying and hugging an older couple.