“A MASTER STORYTELLER” (The Literary Times), JUDE DEVERAUX CREATES A WONDERFUL WORLD OF FAMILY TIES AND SMALL-TOWN SECRETS IN THESE UNFORGETTABLE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLERS!
SCARLET NIGHTS
“Readers familiar with the series will delight in immersing themselves back in the comfortable world of Edilean, and new readers should enjoy exploring it. . . . Deveraux’s colorful cast and easy way with words shine.”
—Publishers Weekly
“As Deveraux continues her series, she brings to life the sort of sweet and spunky heroines who attract the muscular men her fans expect and enjoy. . . . This is another guilty-pleasure romance of suspense that will hook readers and leave them with a smile.”
—Booklist
DAYS OF GOLD
“Deveraux has a sure hand evoking plucky heroines, dastardly villains, and irresistible heroes, as well as a well-rounded supporting cast. . . . The pace moves quickly and the romance sparks with enough voltage to keep readers turning pages.”
—Publishers Weekly
LAVENDER MORNING
“A fabulous family drama filled with twists.”
—The Best Reviews
“Sweet and salty characters . . . entertaining . . . one of her most fun and pleasing tales.”
—Booklist
“Deveraux once again delivers. . . . Readers will find it hard to resist the charms of Edilean, the manor house, the town, the woman of many secrets and, of course, the series to come.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Quick dialogue, interesting settings, and plot twists.”
—Deseret Morning News (Salt Lake City)
“DEVERAUX’S TOUCH IS GOLD” (Publishers Weekly) IN ALL OF HER “EXQUISITE AND ENCHANTING” (BookPage) NOVELS . . . READ THEM AGAIN AND AGAIN!
SECRETS
“A sweet love story filled with twists and turns.”
—Booklist
“The deceptions will keep readers trying to guess the next plot twist.”
—Romantic Times
SOMEONE TO LOVE
“Fabulous. . . . Fast-paced. . . . Delightful paranormal romantic suspense.”
—Harriet Klausner
JUDE DEVERAUX “INSTINCTIVELY KNOWS WHAT EVERY WOMAN IS SEARCHING FOR—HER OWN KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR” (Romantic Times) HAVE YOU EVER WANTED TO REWRITE YOUR PAST? GET SWEPT AWAY IN THE MAGIC OF
THE SUMMERHOUSE and RETURN TO SUMMERHOUSE
“Marvelously compelling. . . . Deeply satisfying.”
—Houston Chronicle
“Entertaining summer reading.”
—The Port St. Lucie News (FL)
SAVOR HER WONDERFUL TRILOGY
FOREVER . . .
FOREVER AND ALWAYS
ALWAYS
“Bewitching. . . . High-spirited. . . . Irresistibly eerie, yet decidedly a love story.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“An intriguing paranormal tale . . . a delightful otherworldly fantasy.”
—TheBestReviews.com
“Cannot be put down until the last word is read. . . . Truly amazing.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“[A] modern fairy tale. . . . This is Deveraux at her most pleasurable.”
—Booklist
“Any novel by Jude Deveraux is just plain fun to read, and she keeps readers on the edge of their seats.”
—The Advocate (Baton Rouge, LA)
BOOKS BY JUDE DEVERAUX
The Velvet Promise
Highland Velvet
Velvet Song
Velvet Angel
Sweetbriar
Counterfeit Lady
Lost Lady
River Lady
Twin of Fire
Twin of Ice
The Temptress
The Raider
The Princess
The Awakening
The Maiden
The Taming
The Conquest
A Knight in Shining Armor
Wishes
Mountain Laurel
The Duchess
Eternity
Sweet Liar
The Invitation
Remembrance
The Heiress
Legend
An Angel for Emily
The Blessing
High Tide
Temptation
The Summerhouse
The Mulberry Tree
Forever . . .
Wild Orchids
Forever and Always
Always
First Impressions
Carolina Isle
Someone to Love
Secrets
Return to Summerhouse
Lavender Morning
Days of Gold
Scarlet Nights
The Scent of Jasmine
Pocket Star Books
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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www.SimonandSchuster.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2003 by Deveraux, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Atria Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
This Pocket Star Books paperback edition November 2010
POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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Cover illustration and design by Lisa Litwack; cover images by Val Corbett/Getty Images and Brad Wrobieski/Masterfile
ISBN 978-1-4516-2180-8 (print)
ISBN 978-0-7434-9352-9 (eBook)
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
‘The Scent of Jasmine’ Excerpt
Prologue
“ARE YOU SURE YOU WANTA DO THIS, DOC?” CARL asked, looking across to the driver’s seat at Dr. Nicholas Taggert. “My brother’s cabin is a wreck and the only transportation there is his truck, and it isn’t street legal so you can’t drive it.”
Nick looked in his left mirror, signaled, then moved Carl’s car into the fast lane. “I told you that all I need is a place to get away to for a few days, and my cousin is going to pick me up. You said there’s a grocery within walking distance so I won’t need a vehicle for the three days I’m alone there.”
“It’s just a mom-and-pop store. No caviar or anything.” When Nick didn’t smile, Carl knew his joke had fallen flat. “Sorry about your girl,” he mumbled.
“Over and done with,” Nick said tightly, letting it be known that Stephanie Benning was not something he was going to discuss.
Carl looked out the window at the beautiful Smokey Mountain scenery, but he was so nervous he could hardly sit still. What was h
e, an ambulance driver, doing in a car with a big-deal doctor like Nicholas Taggert? Why hadn’t Dr. Nick asked one of the doctors at the clinic if they knew of a cabin to rent? They could have found him a place on five acres, near a movie theater and something called a “bistro.”
Carl couldn’t figure out why Dr. Nick wanted to stay in a derelict cabin, but he did know why the man wanted to hide out: Stephanie Benning, ol’ Doc Benning’s youngest—and meanest—daughter.
About nine months ago, long-legged, long-haired Stephanie had come back from some place with a French name, the ink still wet on her divorce papers, taken one look at Dr. Nick Taggert’s movie-star good looks, and gone after him like there was no tomorrow. Of course everyone in the office knew that she wasn’t after his looks. Her last husband had been the clone of a toad. She knew that Dr. Nick was from money—real money. Big money. He didn’t know anyone in the office knew about his family’s worth, but they did. Ten minutes on the Internet and the news was out.
More of a seceret was what Stephanie Benning was really like. Only the locals in the clinic knew that she’d been a selfish, hateful child and she hadn’t changed as she got older. Somehow, she’d managed to fool Dr. Nick for eight whole months before he broke up with her.
Of course Stephanie told everyone in her father’s clinic that she’d been the one to break it off. She’d said that Dr. Taggert had used her, then thrown her away like an old handbag. She’d wept so prettily that everyone except the locals believed her. She’d even made a big deal about the yellow diamond Dr. Nick had given her because he’d asked for it back. She’d whined that no gentleman would demand the return of jewels given to a lady.
One of the women in the office said the rock was worth at least a million and belonged to Dr. Nick’s family.
“I notice she kept that big dinner ring he gave her,” Lucy in reception had snipped.
“And the sapphire earrings,” someone else said.
“And the pearl necklace.”
“All she had to give back was that big yellow diamond and the key to the ball and chain she’d clamped around him.”
Everyone had fallen over in laughter.
But the physicians on the staff at the Benning Clinic had believed everything Stephanie had said about Dr. Nick. Overnight, words like “gentleman,” “honor” and “integrity,” were overheard—as though Nick Taggert didn’t have these qualities.
The locals had tried to defend him, but they couldn’t say much. After all, Stephanie’s father signed their paychecks.
One of the women tried to get Dr. Nick to defend himself and tell the truth about what Stephanie was like. They didn’t know the details of the breakup, but they were sure he’d found out that all she wanted was his money. But Dr. Nick wouldn’t defend himself. He bore the looks from the other doctors and the whispered comments without flinching. Even when Stephanie threw one of her spoiled-brat tantrums in front of the entire staff and the waiting patients, he still didn’t defend himself.
The locals were split down the middle about his silence. Half said he was an idiot and the other half said he was a hero out of a storybook.
So, three nights ago, when Carl had returned from a late run and Dr. Nick had been alone in his office, Carl hadn’t been shocked when Dr. Nick asked if he knew of a cabin to rent, a place to get away for a few days. But a cabin that would suit the likes of a man with the doctor’s pedigree was out of Carl’s league.
Carl had just smiled. “The only place I know of is my brother Leon’s house. It’s fallin’ down enough that you could call it a cabin, and it is on a lake.”
“Sounds great. When will your brother be away so I can rent it?”
“He’ll be gone for about twelve more years,” Carl said, still smiling. “If he behaves himself, that is. Look, Doc, I was just kidding. You do not want to rent Leon’s place. It’s horrible. The house is a pigsty and it’s got a big barn that looks like it’s gonna fall down any minute. The truth is, atomic bombs wouldn’t hurt that barn, but that’s neither here nor there. Now, across the lake, just on the other side, are some really nice houses. I bet if you called a realtor—”
“How far from here is your brother’s cabin?”
“A couple of hours. But, Doc—”
“Is it vacant now? Is it furnished?”
“Sort of,” Carl said, then got louder, firmer. He needed to stop this now. “You can not rent Leon’s place, Doc, it’s awful. My brother has only one interest in his life and that’s his truck. He dedicated every penny he could earn, steal, or con somebody out of to that truck. He’s in prison now because he robbed three gas stations just so he could buy a spare transmission and a transfer case.”
Carl could see that Dr. Nick wasn’t listening to him.
“Does the roof leak?”
“No,” Carl said patiently. “I look after the place enough that the roof doesn’t leak, and I cleaned it up enough that the rats don’t tear down the walls to get at the food Leon left lyin’ around. Doc!” he said emphatically. “You can’t think of stayin’ in that house.”
Dr. Nick leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at Carl. “Why not? Do you think I’m too much of a priss to get my hands dirty in a house like your brother’s?”
Carl had to smile at the word “priss.” In the five years Dr. Nick had been at the Benning Clinic, he’d never heard the man use foul language. He’d always been fair and honest to everyone, but, until Stephanie, he’d never been close to any of them, not doctors or staff. He was a good doctor and the only times Carl or anyone else had seen Dr. Nick get angry was when a patient wasn’t getting the best of service.
In the end, no matter what Carl said, Nick Taggert had overridden him, and now they were driving through the mountains to Leon’s cabin.
As they drove up the weed-infested driveway, Carl relaxed. There was no way anyone on earth would want to stay in this place unless he had to. It was almost with triumph that Carl said, “Watch out for snakes,” as soon as they stepped into the waist-high weeds that surrounded the old house.
He walked behind Dr. Nick as he battled through the weeds to the front steps of the house, then up to the porch. There was no reason to lock the house; who’d want to go inside it?
In the living room were three pieces of furniture Leon had found at the dump, the stuffing coming out of the arms. The two end tables, the coffee table, and both lamps were made of beer cans welded together. The dining room had an old table, hidden somewhere under Leon’s collection of a couple of thousand old car magazines. The kitchen was the worst, with cracked dishes on the floor, magazines with curled pages, dented aluminum pots, and mouse droppings everywhere. At the back of the house was the bedroom, with an old, stained mattress and a jumble of torn, dirty sheets at the bottom of a closet.
“See what I mean?” Carl said when they were outside on the back porch. In front of them stretched the lake, crystal clear and beautiful. Across the pristine surface, on the other side, were gorgeous houses, each house painted a different color, with a matching boat dock. Some people even had boats painted to match their houses and docks.
When Leon had been arrested, Carl had wanted to sell the lake house to pay for a good lawyer, but Leon had refused. He said that someday the developers would want his place and Leon would make them pay.
“I bet you can get one of those houses over there,” Carl said, nodding across the lake.
Nick was leaning on the porch rail and looking across the water. “Lavender,” he said.
“What?”
“I don’t see a lavender house. There are three shades of pink, but little in the lavender family. What if I paint this house lavender, build a matching boat dock, and get a sailboat with bright purple sails?”
It took Carl moments to realize that Nick was kidding. Laughing, Carl slapped him on the back. “As long as you don’t touch the truck, you can do whatever you want to to the place.”
Nick stood up and stretched, and Carl could see that, in a way, the doc
fit with this place. There was something old world about the man that suited this half-overgrown old house.
Abruptly, all Carl’s nervousness left him. The doc would do all right here.
“So where’s this infamous truck?” Nick said, stepping back for Carl to lead the way.
Carl took the set of keys out of his pocket as he kicked weeds aside. When Leon had bought the place years ago, Carl had tried to get him to tear down the old barn. He’d said Leon should build a new, secure building of concrete blocks to use for his garage.
“I plan to,” Leon said, but Carl hadn’t known what he meant. Leon had built a new building inside the barn, camouflaging it so no one would guess what was inside.
Carl unlocked the old barn door, then used a code to unlock the inner steel door. If Dr. Nick was surprised, he didn’t show it. When Carl slid the heavy steel door back, the lights inside the garage went on. Carl gave a little smile when, behind him, he heard Dr. Nick gasp. It was an enormous, windowless room, spotlessly clean, with two smaller glass-walled rooms inside, one outfitted with a bath and a full kitchen.
In the main room a two-ton overhead electric hoist system and a bead blasting system sat near a Hollander drill press, a band saw, a puller set, an air compressor, and a parts washer. There were several tall metal cabinets in deep red full of Hollander tools. Always the best for Leon.
In the middle of the room, on a concrete floor that even after six months barely showed any dust, was the truck. The Truck.
Dr. Nick stepped into the shop and stood a few feet back from the truck, looking at it with wide eyes.
“Ever see anything like it?”
“Never,” Nick answered. “What, exactly is it?”
Carl knew that to the uninitiated the truck looked bizarre. It was a 1978 Chevy half-ton body, with a Chrysler V-10 engine. Nearly everything inside the truck had been removed and replaced by something better, and more expensive, and bigger. As a result, every square inch was filled with machinery.
Since Carl had spent too many weekends helping his brother, he knew a lot about what had been done to the truck, and while Dr. Nick listened in appreciative silence, Carl gave him the full rundown, explaining why the bed of the truck was filled with machines and pipes. When Carl quit talking—not that he’d finished—he looked at Dr. Nick, who was blinking at the truck as though trying to comprehend it.