ISBN: 9780373275045

Two Years Earlier Riverside, Oregon March 17, 7:00 p.m. Breathless and shivering beneath the cold lash of rain, Katherine Chabeau hovered outside the entrance to Delany's Pub. She… Más…

Two Years Earlier Riverside, Oregon March 17, 7:00 p.m. Breathless and shivering beneath the cold lash of rain, Katherine Chabeau hovered outside the entrance to Delany's Pub. She'd left her coat behind when she'd fled the hospital, never imagining her car would wheeze to death and leave her stranded. The auto club wouldn't be available for over an hour. And Lord knew, nobody in her family would come to her rescue. An Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day. What could be warmer? Safer? More abominably cheerful? Kate shuddered. She wasn't a party girl under the best circumstances, and today had taken the prize as the worst day ever. However, she couldn't sit in her dark car in the storm and wait to turn into a human Popsicle. Over the past year, she'd turned pro at lowering her expectations. She only wanted a steaming cup of cocoa with whipped cream. It was a start. She attempted to tug open the heavy door before she remembered and switched hands. How long before that became automatic? Heated air, chatter and lively music cannoned into her. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Suddenly reluctant, she hesitated. Time ground to a halt for a weird, intense moment...as if Fate were holding her breath. Kate squared her shoulders. Get a grip. She was simply walking into a pub. So why did her stomach roll as if she were making a life-or-death decision as she stepped inside? Jostled by the roiling sea of green-clad revelers, she finally spotted a hallway leading to the restrooms. She pushed inside the door marked Lassies, and then glanced in the mirror. Blech. She looked as hideous as she felt. A random act of violence had stolen her career, incinerated her dreams. Then her fianc had betrayed her. After the first hit six months ago, she had anticipated tonight's blow. Braced herself to take it on the chin and keep on keeping on. She'd been prepared to kiss her past goodbye. But not her future. No matter how badly her throat ached to release the grinding pressure, she would not cry. Kate raised her chin. When the tough got sucker punched, they climbed right back into the ring. She grimaced. She looked like she'd gone nine rounds with Rocky. Her specter-pale face was devoid of makeup except for streaky mascara rimming her brown eyes, dark and flat with shock. Her shoulder-length brown hair hung in ropy hanks, and rain splotched her white silk blouse and black wool skirt. Her stockings were soaked, her black Kate Spade pumpsher reward to herself after a grueling stretch of physical therapybeyond salvation. She shivered, and goose bumps pimpled her damp skin. After liberal use of paper towels and the hand dryer, she dared another mirror check. Still more Halloween than St. Patrick's Day. And she was shaking, cold to the bone. Kate rubbed her hands over her arms. She might never be warm again. Inside the pub, she found an empty bar stool in the corner. When she asked for hot chocolate, the bartender offered Fiction Fiction eBook, Silhouette<