Summer Kisses (98 page)

“That’s only because my wife is still as hot as she was at eighteen. Shall we sneak up to the bedroom and launch it? I’ll take you on a quick trip right past the moon,” he coaxed.

“As tempting as that sounds, Dr. Foster, I’d like to enjoy our party a little longer.” She pulled him toward the other side of the deck where their friends had gathered around the table laden with picnic food.

As they joined their guests, Rob slapped Matt on the back. “You know, if I’d known Tom and Royce were smart enough to get into Julliard and Columbia, I might’ve fought you a little harder for Abby.”

Kate rolled her eyes at her husband. “Do you honestly think those boys would’ve accomplished what they have without Matt and Abby?”

“That’s true. But I suspect their rivalry also had a little something to do with their success.” Ben chuckled, jerking his head toward seventeen-year-old Tom and Royce dunking Sara, Ben’s fifteen-year-old step-daughter, in the pool. “I never saw two kids who were more competitive.”

Julie sipped a longneck beer and chuckled. “The only reason you notice the boys’ rivalry, my dear husband, is because you’ve been in their shoes. That—and you’re an overprotective papa.” As it turned out, Ben
was
sterile, but Julie still chose the man she loved over his buddy, and they eventually adopted a sister and brother for Sara.

“They must have inherited that competitive streak from Matt.” Rob laughed.

“But he isn’t even Royce’s real father,” Leonard reminded them, feeding his wife Denise a deviled egg.

Matt looked sideways at Ben and smiled. “We both know it’s not genetics that makes someone a parent.”

Abby swallowed hard, recalling the staggering guilt that plagued her after Lucy lost her valiant battle against ovarian cancer. Abby thanked God Matt had convinced Bill Harmon—who’d been serving a prison term for vehicular manslaughter while intoxicated—to assign permanent custody of his ten-year-old son to them. It had been seven years, and she still missed her friend every day. “I wish Lucy could’ve seen the incredible young man her son has become and what a talented writer he is.”

“Speaking of kids,”—Peter elbowed Rob—“Carol tells me Dr. Kate is carrying twins. That’ll make your brood’s total, what? Five? Weren’t you the guy who didn’t want any children?”

“Whoever said I want the ones we have?” Rob hugged Kate, watching his three daughters splashing around the pool. “Maybe I just like
making
them.”

“
Bull
,” Ben snorted. Everyone there knew Matt’s love for kids had rubbed off on Rob. He’d become an incredible dad and had even expanded the pediatric side of his dental practice.

Abby watched Sara flirting with Tom and Royce and frowned. Ben and Julie’s blond cutie had been leading Abby’s sons on a merry chase ever since they met. She pulled Matt aside and whispered, “I have no doubt who the mother of some of our grandbabies will eventually be. I’d just like the boys to decide which one of them is going to be the dad.”

“Sara has to do the choosing, Sweetheart. The boys may be competitive with each other, but they’re also more loyal than real brothers. They know full well they’re both crazy about her. If either Tom or Royce was ever going to make a move on her, don’t you think he would’ve already asked Sara out—
like to their senior prom,
last month
?”

Good point. Instead, they’d invited two of her friends and pushed one of their buddies to take Sara, and they’d attended as a group. “Apparently, I need to have a long talk with Ben and Julie’s daughter.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” He pulled her closer and nibbled her ear, whispering, “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to sneak upstairs for a few minutes? I’ve still got six and half long years of loving to catch up on.”

“Don’t you think that argument is wearing a little thin after over a decade?” She grinned.

“Unh-uh.” He caressed her cheek, turning her face toward him so she could gaze into his eyes. “You know, Babe, I may have subconsciously repressed the memory of you during my years of hell, but there was one thing I always knew deep in my heart.”

“What was that?”

He tenderly brushed her lips with his. “I knew somewhere in this world I had something really special worth remembering.”

Thank you for reading The Memory of You

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Laurie Kellogg is a two-time winner and seven-time nominee for the
Romance Writers of America
®
Golden Heart
®
award, the winner of
Pacific Northwest Writers Association
®
Zola
award, and a
Romantic Times
®
American Title I
finalist. She began writing to avoid housework and has since resorted to naming the dust-bunnies multiplying as fast as real rabbits while she plots love stories that are Steamy, Heartwarming, Romantic Fun

Laurie also writes red-hot romantic comedies under L.L. Kellogg which she’s branded as
A Little Naughty and a lot of Fun!

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Other
Steamy, Heartwarming Fun romances
by Laurie Kellogg

The Memory of You
(Prequel to the Return to Redemption series)

A Little Bit of Déjà Vu
(Book One of the Return to Redemption series)

Baby, I’m Back!
(Book Two of the Return to Redemption series)

The Parent Pact
(Book Three of the Return to Redemption series)

No Exchanges, No Returns
(Book Four of the Return to Redemption series)

A Heart Decision
(Book Five of the Return to Redemption series)

Don’t Break My Heart
(Book Six of the Return to Redemption series)

A Little Naughty and a lot of Fun
romances by L.L. Kellogg

Hypnotic Seduction
(Book One of the Seduction series)

Captive Seduction
(Book Two of the Seduction series)

Sin City Seduction
(Book Three of the Seduction series)

BY

BEV PETTERSEN, THREE-TIME NATIONAL READER’S CHOICE NOMINEE AND NEC-RWA READER’S CHOICE WINNER:

An undercover cop investigates the murder of his ex-partner and falls in love with the dedicated jockey he has deceived. His lies thrust them into the crosshairs of a ruthless killer…and now much more than their love is at stake.

The track looked safe—no holes, no ruts, no reason for a horse to break a leg—but Kurt’s sense of foreboding grew. He yanked up the collar of his oilskin, hoping the raw weather accounted for his unusual edginess. A red-coated man with jowly cheeks trudged through the mud, blasted on his bugle, and the post parade began.

Most fans sought refuge in the clubhouse, yet ten feet away two women in stylish raincoats also braved the drizzle. Their heads swiveled as they analyzed each prancing horse, and the gusting wind carried their words more effectively than any loudspeaker.

“That guy next to us is Kurt MacKinnon,” the shorter one said. “Might be worth putting money on his horse. He trains the good-looking gray.”

“They’re both lookers,” the second lady said. “But ugly tries harder. Besides that gray doesn’t want to get wet. Don’t know if he’ll run well.”

Kurt kept his head averted, indifferent to their opinions, although the second lady was absolutely correct. He didn’t know if Lazer Cat would run well either. The horse had performed poorly in four starts on a sunny day, but maybe he’d like the shitty weather. Lazer really couldn’t run much worse. Kurt hated to give up on the colt, but he had to show some ability. And soon.

The line of horses moved closer. Kurt’s optimism plunged when he noticed the antics of his contrary horse. Lazer humped his back and flattened his ears as he tried to sidestep the rain and retreat to the barn. Only a stoic escort pony kept him in line.

It was obvious the horse hated the weather, hated the track, hated to race.

The phone in Kurt’s pocket vibrated. He pivoted from the rail, giving the two ladies a polite nod as he passed. Ignoring their self-conscious giggles, he scanned the display.
Unknown caller
. What fool would call just before a race?

“MacKinnon.” Concern roughened his words as he climbed the grandstand steps. Not many people had his private number, and his racing assistant was extremely competent. It had to be a mistake. Or an emergency.

“Hello, Kurt,” a familiar voice said. “It’s Archer.”

Kurt sucked in a breath. Archer wasn’t the type to press wrong numbers. “Hello…boss,” he said, then paused for a second. “How’re things at headquarters?”

“The usual. How about you? Heard you’re a full-time trainer now, making bags of money.”

“Everything’s good. Got a race about to start.” Kurt’s mouth tightened as the horses approached the starting gate and Lazer shied from a swooping bird, almost dumping his jockey. The colt wheeled and rammed a member of the gate crew, but two men with squared shoulders and a no-nonsense attitude rushed forward, locked their arms behind Lazer’s tail and shoved the reluctant horse into his slot. Good job, guys, Kurt thought, marginally relaxed now that Lazer was in the gate.

“It’s been a while since you requested the leave of absence,” Archer said. “Bet you miss police work.”

Kurt jerked to a stop and for a moment forgot about the race. Eleven months ago, drained by his undercover job, the lies, the deception, he’d handed Archer his resignation from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Archer had convinced Kurt to accept a leave instead. They both knew he didn’t miss police work.

He shook off the raw memories, tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, turned and re-focused on the horses clustering around the gate.

The race would start soon, just three left to load. Lazer was the only gray in the race so he would be easy to spot, especially easy since his habit was to gallop at the back of the pack, sightseeing.

“We need to talk.” Archer’s voice pricked like a stubborn mosquito.

Kurt regretted answering the call. He liked and respected Archer, but it seemed a lifetime since he’d reported to him. He made a sound deep in his throat that he hoped passed for agreement but kept his attention on the gate.

All the horses were in. Lazer stood straight, ears forward, well balanced. Despite the colt’s flightiness, this might be the day he lived up to his pedigree. A knot coiled in Kurt’s stomach as he waited for the gate to spring. He hated having no control, but it was up to the jockey and horse now. Any second—

“We need you on a case.”

“Sorry,” Kurt said, watching Lazer’s forehead and willing the horse to break clean. The white bridle gleamed through the bars of the starting gate, a beacon even on this drab April day. “I’m through with police work,” he added. “Go ahead and process my resignation.”

“But it’s just a few weeks,” Archer said. “We need you to race in Calgary. I know it’s a hick track, and you’re a big-time trainer, but this is critical.”

Despite the rain, Kurt’s mouth felt dry. Long seconds passed in taut silence. Archer’s breathing sounded frayed. Kurt squeezed the phone, his fingers as tight as his voice. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“We need an inside man we can position fast.” Archer’s words escaped in a rush. “Someone who knows racing but has undercover experience. You’re the only qualified officer available.”