Son of a Preacher Man - By Arianna Hart Page 0,9

still the same. There was a sign nailed to a tree by the turn-off to her drive that stated No Trespassing—that was new, but that was about it.

For the first time in years, a sense of peace washed over her as she carefully turned into the drive. Stones pinged off the underside of her car, but she didn’t care. The trees formed a canopy that shaded her from the intensity of the sun, so she rolled her windows down and continued to creep forward.

There was the tree she’d sideswiped when she’d first gotten her license. She’d been so proud of the car she’d bought with her own money. The rundown station wagon had cost five hundred dollars. She’d worked nights and weekends and any time Mrs. Farley, her friend Mary Ellen’s mom, had needed her in order to earn the money. It wasn’t worth the money it took to fill the gas tank, but it had gotten them out of Dale.

Damn, she’d been so wrapped up in the bombshell Hornblower dropped on her, she hadn’t stopped to see if Mrs. Farley’s general store was still there. She hoped it hadn’t been one of the places with For Sale or Lease signs in the window. It would be nice to see Mrs. Farley again, and maybe find out what Mary Ellen was doing. They’d lost touch after Nadya had left Georgia. She’d spent every free moment either studying to keep up her GPA so she wouldn’t lose her scholarship or working as many hours as she could just to pay living expenses. There hadn’t been time or money left over for long-distance phone calls.

Anticipation soared as she rounded the last curve before the cabin, then plummeted when she saw a police car parked smack dab in front of the porch. A police officer leaned against the squad car, his tanned arms crossed over his chest. The brim of his “Smokey the Bear” hat shaded his face.

Nadya parked the BMW and put on her best I-have-every-right-to-be-here expression before climbing out.

“Good afternoon, officer. I hope you don’t mind, but I used to live here and I wanted a quick visit before I left town.”

“You’ve only been back half an hour and you’re ready to leave already? Typical.”

Her breath caught in her chest as she got a good look at the officer who pushed himself off the car and confronted her. His green eyes squinted down at her seconds before his dimples flashed.

“Welcome home, Nadya.”

It was all J.T. could do to keep his cop face on and not burst out laughing at Nadya. Her mouth actually hung open. ‘Course, he’d probably resembled a landed fish when he ran the out-of-state license plates and her name had popped up. Never in a million years would he have expected to see Nadya Sarov back in Dale, forget driving a fancy car with New York plates.

Hot damn, but she grew up gorgeous. She’d been a looker at eighteen, but at thirty she was a stunner. Liquid-chocolate eyes stared up at him in stunned amazement. A mouth made for sin with full, red lips formed a shocked O. And her body was just as lush and fantasy inducing as it had been when he was a teenager. He could still see the full curve of her breasts and the tiny narrowness of her waist hidden beneath her black jacket.

“J.T. McBride?”

“That’s Officer McBride, ma’am.” He tipped his cap, enjoying the way her eyes looked up and down, focusing on the badge and name tag.

“If that’s not a kick in the teeth, I don’t know what is,” she said. A smile crossed her face. “What the hell are you doing back in Dale? I’d have thought this would be the last place you’d end up.”

Her eyes sparkled as she grinned up at him, and he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Those damn gypsy eyes had haunted him for twelve fucking years. The memories of their time by the creek had gotten him through hell and back in Fallujah.

After he’d gotten out of the Marines, he’d been at loose ends. His father had continued to preach but was living in Texas and didn’t have room for him in his tiny apartment. Thoughts of the creek—and Nadya—had continued to haunt him, so he’d returned to Dale to put them to rest.

Somehow, he’d ended up joining the police force and staying for the past five years.

“I felt the need to come back and defend my daddy’s honor.” It was as