Lone Wolf - Diana Palmer Page 0,50

message that her phone wasn’t available and after one try, he’d assumed the number was still blocked and he’d given up.

Life was a misery. He was too proud to go to Aspen begging, and too miserable to do much else. He and Two-Toes had the cabin to themselves. Even the wolf looked sad.

It was snowing again. It was the weekend and he was by himself. Parker, the fink, had taken away his last bottle of whiskey, so he didn’t even have a way to drown his sorrows.

He listened idly to the weather report while his ears picked up the sound of traffic on the highway. He heard the sound of airbrakes, like on a big rig, and then gears shifting as the truck went along. Probably hit a slick spot, he thought to himself, and went back to the weather.

There was a knock on the door. Probably Parker, keeping an eye on him, he thought absently. He’d been a good friend. Well, except for taking away his liquor.

He opened the door and his heart dropped into his boots. She was wearing a blue fox jacket and dark slacks and a silk blouse, almost the exact things she’d had on when they first met, when he found her outside his cabin.

“I’m all alone and I have no place to go,” Esther said, her heart racing. “I’m looking for some cousins of mine that live here; the Crump family.”

“No Crumps here, I’m afraid,” he said huskily. “Would you settle for a miserable husband and a handicapped wolf?”

She smiled.

He smiled.

He held out his arms and she ran into them, bawling as he closed the door and shut them into the pleasant warmth of the cabin.

“I’m sorry. I’m so damned sorry,” he murmured into her hair as he held her. “I’ve been a fool!”

“I’m sorry, too. I should have told you the truth, but I thought you wouldn’t want me.”

“I want you,” he whispered. “For the rest of my life!” He drew back and he looked agonized. “The baby . . . ?”

She gave him a sardonic look. “Am I the sort of woman who would do that?”

He relaxed. “No.”

She linked her arms around his neck. “My mother’s attorneys are working on a trust. The money will go to our children and grandchildren—and probably our great-grandchildren,” she added with a laugh. “Meanwhile, I’ll go hat in hand and beg for my job back. After all, every penny counts.”

“God, I love you,” he murmured against her mouth.

She smiled under the devouring kiss. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

On the floor beside them, a contented old wolf lay down with his head on his paws and closed his eyes.

* * *

Darrin Ross went to prison, for such a nice number of years that the Matthews’ firstborn would have gray hair before he got out. Esther’s grandfather came to visit from time to time and coaxed them into coming to Jamaica on gift tickets so he could see his great-grandson and two great-granddaughters more often.

When he passed away, and was mourned by his family, his bequest was a shock to his attorneys and his granddaughter. Because he left his entire estate to Butch.

“Well, darn it,” Esther said after the will was read.

“What?” Butch asked, still poleaxed, and deeply touched

“Honey, everybody will think I married you for your money,” she said.

He laughed. “Your grandfather would laugh himself sick.”

“I’ll bet you that he’s already doing that, and having a wonderful reunion with my grandmother and my mother,” she added.

He drew her close. “I won’t take that bet. What a hell of a sweet thing to do.”

“He was a sweet man,” she replied. “And he was very fond of you.”

“Daddy’s rich,” their son, John, said when they told him.

His sisters were just a little too young to understand that.

“Daddy’s sort of rich,” Butch said, picking up the little boy with a chuckle. “But that’s only with money. Daddy’s much richer in love.”

“Love is worth more than money,” Esther agreed, hugging her husband. “Far, far more.”

Butch just kissed her. And that was enough.

THE WOLF ON HER DOORSTEP

KATE PEARCE

CHAPTER ONE

Morgantown

Morgan Valley, California

“Beth? Have you got a second?”

Beth Baker groaned inwardly, released her grip on the door handle of Maureen’s General Store, and turned to face the owner. Maureen was a lovely woman, but she did like to chat, and Beth had been hoping to get away without the usual friendly, weekly, interrogation. Not that she minded sharing her business with Morgantown, but there were still things she was reluctant to talk about,

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