“You got my sister pregnant, remember? I know what kind of man you are.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. If Lauren had been anyone else, someone who didn’t know who or what he was, she would have smiled automatically. He had that kind of charisma. She hated him, yet he appealed to her on a very basic level.
“Last I checked, it took two to make a baby,” he said. “But you must be like your father. He never saw things that way, either.”
“My father was trying to look out for his daughter. He was trying to get Audra out of the mess you got her into.”
“I didn’t need his help. I was willing to take care of my own messes.”
“Which is why you took the money my dad offered you to get out of town and did exactly that, right?”
Harley’s eyes narrowed and all traces of the smile he wielded so effectively disappeared. Lauren pressed her advantage. “Who do you think has loved Brandon and cared for him all these years, practically raised him?”
“Regardless of who’s raised him, his mother’s dead,” he said. “And I’m here now. I’ve come to collect what’s mine.”
Dear Reader,
As a writer, I’m often asked about “favorites.” What story is my favorite? Which characters? Which setting? Well, Shooting the Moon definitely has a place on my list of favorites. It’s one of those stories that flowed easily from my heart and came naturally to my pen. I’m not sure if it was the characters and their intriguing blend of strengths and weaknesses, or the conflict, which was very poignant and real for me. But as Harley and Lauren revealed themselves to my imagination, I grew to respect and like them more and more. I hope you’ll have the same experience.
I love to hear from readers. You can contact me at P.O. Box 3781, Citrus Heights, CA 995611. Or simply log on to my Web site at www.brendanovak.com to leave me an e-mail, check out my book signings or learn about my upcoming releases.
May we all, in the end, achieve the ultimate or “shoot the moon.”
Brenda Novak
Shooting the Moon
Brenda Novak
To my oldest daughter, Ashley,
for already exhibiting the self-possession and integrity I so admire. Your presence in my life nourishes my soul in a way I could never explain. If you forget everything I’ve ever taught you, remember this: My love is everlasting.
CONTENTS
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
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
NOT HIM! NOT NOW!
A wave of nausea hit Lauren Worthington as she gaped at the man on her front doorstep. She’d known this day would come. Over the past few years her parents had grown complacent, had insisted Matt “Harley” Nelson was out of their lives for good, but deep down Lauren had always known better. His leaving them alone indefinitely would be too simple, too easy. And from what she knew of Harley, he was not a simple man. Neither did he do anything the easy way. It had been ten years since she’d seen him, but she remembered that much.
“What do you want?” she asked, lowering her voice and closing the door between them until only a crack remained. The last thing she needed was for her nephew Brandon, who was watching television in the other room, to see Harley, or for their conversation to somehow catch the boy’s interest.
“What do you think I want?” he asked, hands on hips, one leg cocked as though he was perfectly comfortable knocking on their door after all these years.
Why had she answered the bell without first checking the peephole? Lauren berated herself. But the answer was clear. She lived in Hillside Estates, a gated, upscale community of homes not far from Portland, Oregon, worth half a million dollars or more. They had security. They had cameras. They had little or no crime. Besides, it was barely ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. Who worried about peepholes on a Saturday morning?
Lauren had felt perfectly safe opening her house without a second thought, but now she feared what her mistake would cost her—and Brandon. She could only see a slice of Harley Nelson through the crack she’d left in the door, but it was enough to know that her sister’s ex-boyfriend hadn’t changed much. About six feet tall, he was still thin but muscular, still handsome as the devil, still wearing black leather, and still riding the kind of motorcycle that had given him his nickname. Lauren knew because a beautiful new Harley was parked in the driveway behind him.
“Audra isn’t home,” she said, bluffing. She needed him to leave so she could figure out what to do about his sudden reappearance. Her parents would know how to handle this—her father could solve anything—but he and her mother were in Europe for another four weeks, and without them, Lauren was completely on her own. Somehow she had to regain her equilibrium. Think. Get Harley to go so she could…what? Hide Brandon until she came up with a smarter plan?
Unfortunately Harley didn’t seem too eager to give her the chance to do that. He stayed right where he was and didn’t look as though he was going anywhere, at least anytime soon.
“Considering the fact that Audra died in an alcohol-related car accident nearly six months ago, I’d be pretty surprised if she was here,” he said.
He knew. Oh no, he knew about poor Audra. What was she going to do?
“I-I’m sorry. I have to go. I’m expected at—I’m expected.” She tried to close the door the rest of the way, but his booted foot whipped out and wedged in the opening before she could latch it.
Lauren inched the door open again but still blocked the entrance with her body.
“I’m getting the impression you’re not very excited to see me. Are you trying to hurt my feelings?” he asked, giving her a glimpse of his send-the-girls-wild smile, the one she’d drooled over in high school.
Fortunately it didn’t do anything for her now. Lauren was too worried about the confidence in Harley’s face and bearing. The longer she talked to him, the more she noticed that in some ways he had changed. The reckless teenager she’d known had transformed himself into a calm, self-assured adult. Which frightened Lauren more than anything, because it made him so much more of a threat.
“I’ll call the police if I have to,” she warned.
“If that’s what you’re planning to do, you’d better go and do it,” he said. “Because I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”
Lauren could scarcely swallow for the fear clutching her throat. Please don’t let it be what I think