Her Sister (Search For Love series) (22 page)

She turned
up the volume.

"Our
family has been through a lot," the young woman who Tessa had addressed
said.  "Ever since my sister Lynnie was kidnapped from our house when I
was five, we've been split apart, everyone feeling their own grief and sadness
and disappointment and guilt.  Mostly guilt, because aren't parents supposed to
take care of their child?  Isn't a sister supposed to protect her little
sister?"

Beth
felt the breath whoosh out of her.  She felt herself begin to tremble.  She
thought about years of counseling and trying to retrieve memories that hadn't been
retrievable.  She'd been three when her parents adopted her.  She'd been
abandoned at a mall.  She'd either been too young to remember, or had traumatic
amnesia.  She figured her origins would always remain a secret.

But
there was something about the woman who was speaking.  They looked so much
alike!  And there was something about the older man and woman sitting there. 
There was something about the name
Lynnie
.  There was something—

The
longer Beth watched that TV screen, the longer something stirred inside of
her.  She wanted to reach out to this woman named Clare.  She wanted to be with
Amanda and Max Thaddeus…because that's where she felt she should be.

She
remembered a house with green siding and black shutters.  She remembered a huge
yard.  She remembered—Oh, Lord, she remembered.

Her
breath coming in shallow pants now, she turned back to her computer, awakened
it, searched for the cable news channel's website and found a phone number.

She
picked up her phone and dialed.

****

FROM
THE AUTHOR

When I
decided to add another book to my Search For Love series, I knew I wanted it to
be a women's fiction novel.  ALWAYS DEVOTED, Book 3, had given me a taste of
writing romance with a mystery twist.  Recently I sold my first mystery series
which begins this year.  So my intention was to focus on a family and their
struggle while adding romance, mystery and a touch of suspense as subplots.

My
women in this book—Amanda, Clare and Shara—have stories to tell, desires to
share and needs to fulfill.  They are three generations who have been torn
apart by crisis.  Gillian Bradley from book 1 of my Search For Love series
helps strengthen their bonds.

I hope
you enjoy this novel that has a lot of my heart and soul in it.  May you always
find the bonds of family hold you close and heal your heart.

****

KAREN
ROSE SMITH BOOKS AVAILABLE IN E-BOOK FORMAT

FINDING
MR. RIGHT
Series

Kit and
Kisses, Book 1

Forever
After, Book 2

When
Mom Meets Dad, Book 3

Falling
For Her Boss, Book 4

Toys
and Baby Wishes, Book 5

Love in
Bloom, Book 6

Ribbons
and Rainbows, Book 7

Wish on
the Moon, Book 8

SEARCH
FOR LOVE
Series

Nathan's
Vow, Book 1

Jake's
Bride, Book 2

Always
Devoted, Book 3

Always
Her Cowboy, Book 4

Heartfire,
Book 5

Cassidy's
Cowboy, Book 6

Her
Sister, Book 7

EVERYDAY
LOVE
Short Story Series

Everyday
Cinderellas, Vol. 1

Everyday
Prince Charming, Vol. 2

Everyday
Romance, Vol.3

A Man
Worth Loving

Garden
of Fantasy

Abigail
and Mistletoe

Writing
is a Business

SCIENCE
FICTION SHORT STORY COLLECTION

Journey
Into Chaos

BOXED
SETS

Finding
Mr. Right Box Set One

Finding
Mr. Right Boxed Set Two

Search
For Love Boxed Set One

Search
For Love Boxed Set Two

Everyday
Love Boxed Set

AUDIOBOOKS

Toys
and Baby Wishes

Watch
for these titles coming soon as audiobooks:

Wish on
the Moon

Nathan's
Vow

Always
Devoted

Always
Her Cowboy

Falling
For Her Boss

Jake's
Bride

When
Mom Meets Dad

****

Excerpt
from
JAKE'S BRIDE

Search
For Love
series, Book 1

Prologue

Don't
answer it.

Don't
answer it.

Do
not
answer it.

Gillian
Moore convinced herself to ignore the intrusive sound of the ringing telephone
as the golden L.A. sun swept through her open living room window, along with
the balmy June breeze.

Her
phone rang a second time.

Plucking
the leatherbound volumes from her bookshelf one by one, she dusted them with a
soft cloth.  She always cleaned and straightened her surroundings when her
heart or mind was in turmoil.  With a quick glance at the phone on her end
table, she knew her mother wouldn't be calling on a Monday evening.  Madge
Moore called her daughter from Deep River, Indiana every Sunday at exactly
seven p.m.

Gillian's
phone rang a third time.

She
swiped the cloth across the shelf, back and forth.  In the three months since
she'd relocated to L.A., she hadn't confided in anyone or encouraged close
friendships.  She needed this respite.  She needed to find out whether her
"gift" would continue to be the major force in her life or whether
she had a right to keep it in the background, maybe even completely under
wraps.

Her
phone rang a fourth time.

It
could only be
him
--the man who had called the past two nights, the man
with the compelling voice, tinged with authority, commanding in its intensity
as it directed her to return his call.  She didn't know what he wanted, but she
could guess.  Heaven knew how he'd gotten her number because no one in L.A. had
it, not even the manager where she worked.

Her
answering machine kicked on with her brief direction for the caller to leave a
message.  Her usually lilting tone was serious and cool.  She ran her hand
through her long, light brown hair.  Maybe she should get it cut short…make yet
another change in her life.  She'd made so many in moving here--she actually
had time to herself...to be out in the sun, ride a bike, take long walks. 
She'd found peace along with the bright California sun and she wasn't ready to
let go of either.

"Ms.
Moore.  This is Nathan Bradley.  Again," he added in a deep, almost
censuring baritone.  "In case you haven't received my earlier messages, I
need to speak with you immediately about a matter of great urgency."  He
paused.  "Ms. Moore, I
must
speak with you.  Please return my
call."  He gave his number slowly, hesitated a moment, then clicked off.

Gillian
stopped dusting.  He hadn't said "please" in his other messages. 
This time there was a quiet desperation in his tone.  She recognized the
emotion because the people she'd helped in the past had all been desperate. 
Nathan Bradley didn't sound like a man who was accustomed to using the word
"please," and the huskiness edging the word made her feel vulnerable
and guilty, two of the burdens from which she'd tried to escape.

Now
this man had brought them to the surface once more.  She
wouldn't
return
his call.  She deserved unpressured time to think about the direction of her
life, to have fun working at something she'd never imagined she'd enjoy. 
Nathan Bradley could find someone else to solve his problem, someone else with
a "gift" that had begun to feel more like a curse.

Chapter
One

Nathan
didn't want to be caught dead, let alone alive, inside a beauty salon.  As he
pulled open the glass door and stepped inside, feminine chatter, strange
smells, and the glimpse of a woman with her hair rolled in blue and purple
curlers was enough to make him decide he'd rather face ten irate CEO's whose
firewalls had been breached in one day than to plow into this women's domain. 
But he'd do anything to find his daughters. 

Anything.

Nathan's
determination had pulled him out of the poverty of his childhood, earned him a
scholarship to college, and pushed him to start his own company specializing in
computer security after only a year with another firm.  He'd wanted to be his
own boss, bill his own hours, set his own standards. His determination couldn't
save his marriage, but by God, it would lead him to his daughters.  After six
months of dead ends, he'd decided money and rational strategies weren't
enough.  That's why he was here.  That's why he had to speak to Gillian Moore.

At his
private investigator's insistence, Nathan had agreed to go this route--the only
route left as far as Nathan was concerned or he wouldn't pursue it.  He
wouldn't debate about methods, not even weird ones at this point.  He'd used
every skill he'd possessed to find his daughters.  So had his P.I.  Now he had
to put his logic and wariness aside if he hoped to find his children before he
lost more time with them.

The
woman at the desk inside the door smiled as her gaze traveled from his dark brown
hair, down his charcoal pinstripe suit and striped silk tie, to his black
winged-tip shoes.  She tilted her head and her lips curved up a bit more. 
"Can I help you?"

Suddenly
Nathan felt as if he were the center of attention.  Two customers on chairs in
the room beyond had craned their necks to avidly assess him along with the
receptionist.  His shirt collar felt tighter, and he resisted the urge to tug
down his tie.  "I'm looking for Gillian Moore."

"You
want a manicure?" the redheaded, perfectly coiffed and made-up
receptionist asked with a mischievous smile.

"No. 
My name is Nathan Bradley.  I need to speak with her as soon as possible,"
he said in his best authoritarian tone.  "Is she here?"

"Hold
on a sec," the redhead answered, her smile flagging.  Disappearing into
the room beyond, she reappeared a few moments later.  "She's with a
client.  She says she'll talk to you in five minutes."

Five
minutes.  What the heck was he supposed to do for five minutes?  He spied
several magazines in a basket in the corner beside two director's chairs. 
"Fine.  I'll wait."

Waiting
wasn't something Nathan did well.  He hadn't become a successful CEO with
company locations across the country by waiting.  As he flipped one glossy page
after the other, he was vaguely aware this publication didn't advertise fast
cars or designer clothes.  Tuning in to the sound of feminine voices in the
next room, he tried to pick out the one belonging to a woman who had helped
police departments solve missing person cases.  As he had many times in the
past few days, he imagined what she might look like.  Probably fuzzy, wild hair
with a red scarf tied around her head.

He
could feel the receptionist watching him as she pretended to study the schedule
book.  Finally, a customer with bright crimson nails emerged from the room
beyond and gingerly opened her purse at the desk.

"Gillian
can see you now," the desk-keeper informed him.

Gillian
Moore's lack of response to his phone calls had irritated and frustrated
Nathan.  He was accustomed to being in charge.  But his reason for being here
brushed all that aside.

Striding
into the busy room, he took it in with one glance--the chairs, mirrors, blow
dryers, three hairdressers chatting to their customers.  But then his gaze fell
on the small white wrought-iron desk in the far corner and the woman sitting
behind it.  Her face turned away from him, she slid a pack of acrylic nails to
the side of the glass top and straightened her manicure paraphernalia.  At his
approach, her gaze met his, and he almost stopped short.

She
didn't look like a psychic.

Her
long, light brown hair was laced with sunny blond highlights.  A few tendrils
wisped along her cheek. Her bangs wafted across her honey brows.  But it was
her huge brown eyes that almost immobilized him.  They didn't appraise him
physically…they looked into his soul.  He didn't like the invasion.

Gillian
had wished her client a good day and unnecessarily  organized her work table,
hoping Nathan Bradley had decided not to wait.  When she turned her head and
saw a tall man with resolve shouting from his furrowed dark brows, the set of
his mouth, and his slightly squared jaw, she realized it would take more than a
few unanswered phone messages to deter this man.