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  “You’re going to have to come closer.”

  Jay continued, “Otherwise, you can’t ride on the same bike I’m on.”

  It took almost a full minute, but Ellen managed to mount without coming into contact with his body. He gave her some brief instructions about moving with him, leaning and not leaning, general principles of keeping the bike balanced.

  “Where do I put my hands?”

  “On me,” he said, staring straight ahead. “That’s the point of this exercise.”

  “I know that. Where on you?” It sounded as though she was gritting her teeth.

  “Your choice. You’re the boss. For this exercise, my body represents your safety. It is fully at your disposal—like a tornado shelter in a storm, or a fort during battle. Trust it.”

  Her touch wasn’t much, a light resting of her fingers on the top of his shoulders, but as soon as he felt it, he started the bike and put it in gear.

  “Hold on.” With a twist of his wrist he upped the throttle a notch. And received slightly more pressure on his shoulders.

  “Faster,” she said, five more minutes down the road.

  He increased the speed once more and she laughed out loud.

  And that’s when the whole damn thing went bad. The laugh, the touch of her hands…whatever…generated heat in Jay that he had no right to feel.

  Dear Reader,

  Ever wonder why true love lands on some people but not on others? Or how you can come across real and lasting happiness?

  Ellen Moore might have wondered those things. She certainly had reason to wonder. But Ellen doesn’t allow herself to ask why. She presses forward. Makes things happen. And she’s so busy raising her five-year-old son and working and helping other people that she doesn’t have time to wonder about much of anything.

  Jay Billingsley is a black-leather-vested biker dude on a mission. He’s also a renowned medical massage therapist, able to help victims of violence overcome aversion to physical touch.

  Ellen and Jay seemed like a perfect fit to me when I first sat down to write this book. But, not surprisingly, the two of them had different ideas. This is their story. Told by them. And it’s a much better version than mine….

  Welcome to Shelter Valley! I hope you enjoy the visit enough to want to come back and stay a while.

  I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at [email protected]. Or visit me at www.tarataylorquinn.com. I’m also on Facebook and Twitter.

  Tara Taylor Quinn

  Full Contact

  Tara Taylor Quinn

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  The author of more than fifty-four original novels in twenty languages, Tara Taylor Quinn is a USA TODAY bestseller with over six million copies sold. She is known for delivering deeply emotional and psychologically astute novels of suspense and romance. Tara won the 2008 Reader’s Choice Award, is a four-time finalist for the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award, a multiple finalist for the Reviewer’s Choice Award, the Booksellers’ Best Award, the Holt Medallion and appears regularly on the Waldenbooks bestsellers list. She has appeared on national and local TV across the country, including CBS Sunday Morning. Tara is the author of the successful Chapman Files series and, with her husband, recently wrote and saw the release of her own true love story, It Happened on Maple Street, from HCI books. When she’s not writing, fulfilling speaking engagements or tending to the needs of her two very spoiled and adored four-legged family members, Tara loves to travel with her husband, stopping wherever the spirit takes them. They’ve been spotted in casinos and quaint little small-town antiques shops all across the country.

  Books by Tara Taylor Quinn

  HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

  1309—THE PROMISE OF CHRISTMAS

  1350—A CHILD’S WISH

  1381—MERRY CHRISTMAS, BABIES

  1428—SARA’S SON

  1446—THE BABY GAMBLE

  1465—THE VALENTINE GIFT “Valentine’s Daughters”

  1500—TRUSTING RYAN

  1527—THE HOLIDAY VISITOR

  1550—SOPHIE’S SECRET*

  1584—A DAUGHTER’S TRUST

  1656—THE FIRST WIFE#

  HARLEQUIN SINGLE TITLE

  SHELTERED IN HIS ARMS*

  MIRA BOOKS

  WHERE THE ROAD ENDS

  STREET SMART

  HIDDEN

  IN PLAIN SIGHT

  BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

  AT CLOSE RANGE

  THE SECOND LIE#

  THE THIRD SECRET#

  THE FOURTH VICTIM#

  For Courtney VanGarderen.

  May you always have the strength to reach

  for your happiness and never,

  ever settle for less than that.

  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

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER ONE

  “YOU SURE YOU DON’T want me to come in with you?” Shelley asked.

  “I’m sure.” Ellen Moore’s voice, infused with confidence and cheer for the sake of five-year-old Josh climbing out of the backseat of her sister’s car, sounded strong and healthy to her.

  Because she was strong and healthy. She could do this. No big deal. Thousands of women all over the country shared parenting with divorced spouses.

  Though maybe not all of them had their younger sisters driving them to the airport for the month-long parental switch.

  Martha Moore Marks, the girls’ mother, had been adamant about Ellen not making the trip alone. That was fine with Ellen. Her sister Shelley wanted Ellen’s opinion on an outfit she was considering for an upcoming vocal performance with the Phoenix Symphony, so they could take care of that while they were in the city. Then the sisters were treating themselves to lunch at their favorite Mexican restaurant in Fountain Hills—a quaint Phoenix suburb—before heading home to Shelter Valley.

  “I want to wear my backpack.” The solemn voice of her son grabbed Ellen’s attention. And heart. “I don’t want Daddy to think I’m a baby or something.”

  “He’s not going to think that, bud,” she said, resisting the urge to run her fingers through her little guy’s dark, silky hair. At home, especially when he was sleepy, he’d let her get away with it, but not here. Not now.

  Instead, she helped him secure the straps of the new full-size backpack he’d specifically requested for the trip. The canvas bag—loaded down with his electronic handheld game console; extra discs; dried fruit snacks; animal cookies; cheese crackers; his Cars insulated water bottle filled with juice; two of his favorite nighttime storybooks, both starring Cars characters; and the stuffed Woody doll she’d bought him for Christmas the year before—replaced the smaller plastic one that had been suitable when he’d been going to preschool and day care.

  He was starting kindergarten a couple of days after he returned from visiting his father.

  “Remember, put Woody under the covers with you at night,” she told him as Shelley popped the trunk on her Chevy sedan. Ellen hauled out the first of two big suitcases, pulling up the roller bar.

  “No one
will know he’s there,” she said, dropping the second bag next to her and closing the trunk while her sister picked Josh right up off the ground with the force of her goodbye hug.

  “You be a good boy and have fun, okay?” Shelley said, nose to nose with Josh.

  Josh, arms wrapped tightly around Shelley’s neck, rubbed noses with his aunt. “I get to go fishing in the Colorado River,” the little boy said.

  “I know, pal. And you better call me if you catch anything.” Shelley let Josh’s thin body slide to the ground.

  “I will.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Shelley nodded at Ellen, climbed behind the wheel and drove off to the call lot where she could wait until Ellen was ready to be picked up.

  With a roller bar in each hand, and Josh’s hand next to hers on one handle, Ellen pulled the bags to the curbside check-in station. Josh didn’t need a special-needs tag because, while he was checking in alone, he wouldn’t be flying alone.

  Then they were in the terminal, Josh’s hand in hers whether he liked it or not, and Ellen swore to herself that the smile would stay pasted on her lips if it killed her.

  It wouldn’t kill her. She was a survivor.

  The squeeze of her son’s fingers around her own made her own angst seem selfish and petty.

  “You’re going to have a blast,” she promised him.

  “Why can’t Daddy and I have a blast right here?”

  “Because he doesn’t live here. His job is in Colorado. And he has a room all ready for you in his new house and you’re going to love it.”

  The terminal was bustling, with as many families as businesspeople hurrying around them in spite of the fact that it was a Monday morning.

  “Then why can’t you come?”

  “Because my job is here. Besides, Jaime is there and is looking forward to hanging out with you. You like Jaime, remember?” The beautiful model her ex-husband Aaron had chosen as a replacement for his damaged wife loved Josh and had taken off the entire month of August to care for him.

  As far as Ellen was concerned, Josh was all that mattered.

  “Yeah.”

  She couldn’t really blame Aaron for choosing someone who oozed feminine perfection and sexuality. He’d been far too young to handle the emotional and physical backlash that had consumed Ellen after her attack. Too young to handle her physical rejection of him.

  She would have opted out, too, if she’d had that choice.

  Aaron had needed to get out of Shelter Valley, to start a new life away from the tragedy, and Ellen couldn’t imagine ever leaving Shelter Valley. There was no future in that kind of standoff.

  Josh’s grasp did not loosen even a little bit as they approached the bustling rotunda where they’d arranged to meet Aaron. There was less than an hour’s turnaround between his arriving flight and his departing one with Josh. Aaron and Ellen had both decided whisking Josh off quickly was the best plan.

  She was searching the crowd for the familiar dark hair of her ex when Josh stopped suddenly.

  “What’s up?” she asked, gazing into his solemn face.

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “But you miss your daddy, Josh. You say so a lot.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re going to have such a great time with him. You always do.”

  “But he always comed here.”

  “Came here. You’re older now, bud. And Daddy wants to have time with you in his house, too. He bought you your own bed and it has Cars sheets and everything.”

  Josh stared at her then his lower lip started to tremble.

  Kneeling in front of her son, Ellen held him by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “Josh? What’s going on?”

  His eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself. You’ll be sad.”

  “Ah, buddy, I’m going to miss you for sure. Remember the list we went over last night? The one on the refrigerator?”

  He nodded.

  “Those are all the things I’m going to be doing after work while you’re gone. And that list is so big, I won’t have a chance to get too sad.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “Name some of them for me,” Ellen said. “What am I going to be doing today after work?”

  “Going running. Every day.”

  “And then what?”

  “You’re going to help Sophie make the nursery in their new house.”

  He’d paid attention—and hopefully had pictures in his head of her busy and happy.

  “What else was on the list?”

  “Babysitting for Aunt Caro and Uncle John when they’re in Kentucky at their farm. Do I ever get to go to their farm like you said?”

  “I’m house-sitting,” Ellen corrected him. “They’re taking the kids with them.” Caroline had moved to Shelter Valley, alone and pregnant, at a time when Ellen had been lost as well, and the two, though more than ten years apart in age, had formed a bond that Ellen cherished. “And yes, we’ll go to Kentucky. Maybe next summer.”

  Which gave her another year to work up the desire to leave Shelter Valley for a few weeks.

  Ellen took a seat on a bench with a clear view of the entrances to the A boarding gates, pulling Josh, backpack and all, in between her legs, keeping her arms linked loosely around him.

  “And you’re going to put junk in jars,” he said.

  “Canning tomatoes and peaches and corn and green beans to send to the food pantry in Phoenix,” she said, knowing he probably wouldn’t remember that part. A group of older ladies from the three churches in Shelter Valley met every year for the service project. They had lost a couple of members of their group during the past year and needed extra hands. Ellen was good in the kitchen—and eager to learn how to can.

  Aaron still hadn’t appeared. Josh was shifting weight from one foot to the other and picking at a thread from the flowered embroidery on the front of Ellen’s T-shirt.

  “What else?” she asked. “What am I going to be doing for you?”

  “Painting my room.”

  “Painting what in your room?”

  He grinned. “Trains.”

  “That’s right. What colors?”

  “The engine is black, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “And the caboose is red so the trains coming behind it will see it.”

  “Okay.”

  “And blue for my favorite color.”

  “And purple for mine.”

  “And—” Josh stopped when Ellen stood.

  “Daddy’s coming,” she said.

  Please, heart, don’t make it difficult for me to breathe. Don’t let me need anything from Aaron Hanaran. With her son’s hand in hers, she approached the man she’d once vowed to love, honor and cherish—and sleep with—until death did them part.

  “Hey, sport!” Aaron’s grin was huge as he sped up the last few steps and scooped his son into his arms, hugging him tight. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” Josh said.

  Ellen stared at those little arms clutching his father’s neck. Josh needed this time with Aaron. He needed his father.

  Then, with their son perched on his hip, Aaron’s eyebrows drew together in concern as he looked at her. “How you doing, El?”

  “Fine! Great!” The smile she gave him was genuine. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You, too.”

  Then they stood there with nothing to say. There had been no big angry outbursts between them, no hatred or resentment or bitterness. Just a sadness that had infiltrated every breath they took together.

  “I better get him through security.” Aaron’s comment filled the dead air. “Our flight will be boarding in fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay. Well, then…”

  Aaron put Josh down. “We’ll call you the second we land, El, I promise,” he said, his gaze filled with the sympathy she’d learned to dread. “And you have my cell num
ber. Call anytime. As often as you…need.”

  She knelt in front of Josh. “You be a good boy and listen to your daddy.”

  He nodded, tears in his eyes again.

  “I love you, bud.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Ellen kissed him. Josh kissed her back. Like usual. Then the little boy threw his arms around her neck, clutching her in a death grip.

  Ellen couldn’t breathe. Without thought she jerked the boy’s arms apart, stopping herself in time to keep from flinging those tiny arms completely away from her. She held on to Josh’s small hands, instead, squeezing them.

  The boy didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. A glance at Aaron’s closed face told her his father had witnessed her reaction.

  She gathered her son against her, close to her heart, and held on before finally letting go. “Now, have fun and remember to store up all kinds of things to tell me when you call,” she said with a smile as she stood.

  “’Kay.”

  She watched as the two men who used to be her entire world walked away, her jaw hurting with the effort to keep the smile in place in case Josh turned around to wave goodbye.

  She made it outside the airport before she let the tears fall. But she let go for only a second. Josh was going to be fine. And so was she.

  ELLEN WAS COMING AROUND the corner of Mesa and Lantana streets Tuesday afternoon, her second jog since Josh had left, when she heard the bike roar into town. Without conscious thought, she took stock of her surroundings. Ben and Tory Sanders’ home was on the corner. Bonnie Nielson—owner of the day care Josh had attended the first four years of his life and would attend after school once kindergarten started the following month—had a home around the next corner. Bonnie and Keith wouldn’t be home. Tory would be. It took only a second for the awareness to settle over Ellen.