Well, timing never had been his strong suit...
And the fact that Bowie Bravo walked in the door, after seven years away, just when Glory Rossi was about to go into labor with another man’s child certainly proved the point. Because the last time Glory had seen Bowie was when she was delivering his child—a little boy who’d never known his real father. But according to Bowie, that was about to change.
Bowie was now a respectable businessman, and he was more than ready to be a father—to both of Glory’s children. He was also ready to be a husband to the woman he’d never been able to live without. And when he saw that their feelings for each other still burned bright, he didn’t see any reason why he’d have to....
“Better?” he asked so softly.
He was stroking her hair by then. It felt way too good.
She kept her head buried in his shoulder. “Yeah. Better. For the moment, at least.” He smelled good. Clean. Like soap and cedar shavings. Like pine trees in the springtime. He’d always smelled like pine.
“What was that?” he asked. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah. More or less,” she panted, and she made herself look up at him, at his worried frown and his blue eyes full of questions.
She told him, “I’m in labor. The baby’s coming. The baby’s coming now….”
Dear Reader,
Some of you may recall that a few years back, in Brett Bravo’s story, Married in Haste, Bowie Bravo left his hometown of New Bethlehem Flat, California, to try to make some kind of life for himself. He left behind a son named Johnny and his son’s mother, Glory Dellazola. Glory loved Bowie deeply, but she just wouldn’t marry him, no matter how many times he asked. Bowie was wild and undisciplined and not likely to change.
Now, almost seven years later, Bowie has turned his life around. And at last, he’s come back to make things right. Too bad Glory has hardened her heart against him and his son has been calling another man Dad.
Bowie’s got a lot to make up for. But he’s a determined man now. He won’t give up, no matter how hard Glory pushes him away.
Glory, recently widowed, has a new baby on the way. Bowie knows she needs him now. And his son needs him, too. He’s not running away this time. Once and for all, he’s going to prove that he’s ready to be the man Glory always needed him to be.
Happy reading, everyone!
Yours always,
Christine Rimmer
The Return of Bowie Bravo
Christine Rimmer
CHRISTINE RIMMER
came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress to a salesclerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves, who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oregon. Visit Christine at www.christinerimmer.com.
For Hazel Schwartz,
who kept after me for years until I finally wrote Bowie’s story. Hazel, this one’s for you!
Contents
Chapter One
Glory Rossi saw him coming. He seemed to materialize out of the storm.
It was a blustery Monday morning in mid-January and she stood at the bay window in the family room at the front of the house. She stared out at the snow that had started coming down only a little while ago.
The wind whistled under the eaves outside, catching the thick, white flakes and carrying them sideways in drifts and eddies, so the world out there was a whirling fog of white. She couldn’t see much beyond the bare box elder tree in the front yard—not the bridge across the street that spanned the river, not the houses on the other side. She knew her hometown of New Bethlehem Flat, California, like she knew her own face in the mirror, but the snow obscured it now. She thought how empty the house seemed, how lonely and lost the wind sounded as it sang under the eaves.
And then she caught a hint of movement within the white. She frowned. Squinting, she leaned closer to the glass.
No doubt about it. There was someone out there, a tall, broad-shouldered figure coming up the front walk. The figure mounted the steps.
Glory turned to look out the side window in the bay. It gave a view of the porch. A man, definitely. She couldn’t see his face. His head was hunched into his down jacket and a watch cap covered his hair.
He stood at her front door and raised a gloved hand to ring the bell.
And right then, as the doorbell chimed, she knew.
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. And yet, she was absolutely certain.
Bowie.
As if he felt her watching him, he turned her way. And he saw her, standing there at the window, her hand on the hard, round bulge of her belly, staring at him with her mouth hanging open.
No.
Her mind rebelled. Why now, after all this time? It made no sense. She must be dreaming.
He looked…different, the hard planes of his face more sculpted than before. He looked older. Which he was. By more than six years.
Older and sober. The gorgeous blue eyes were clear as the Sierra sky on a cloudless summer day.
Dreaming. Yeah. This had to be a dream.
She looked away from him, counted to five and then glanced back. Dream or not, he was still out there at the front door, watching her. Maybe if she did nothing, if she just stood there, frozen, refusing to move or even breathe no matter how many times he