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The Hometown Hero Returns
He was the last person Nicki wanted to see.
If she didn’t owe so much to his grandfather, she wouldn’t be within a mile of Luke McCade ever again. But she did like and admire his grandfather. She’d do almost anything for Professor McCade. Even face Luke and all the memories he represented.
And then his broad shoulders filled the front door.
Despite her resolve, her pulse hammered in her throat.
If anything, he was more gorgeous than ever; small crinkles at the corners of his eyes and a few strands of silver in his black hair made him look solid and dependable. He’d come back to help his grandfather, showing that he wasn’t as selfish as she’d always thought.
A flutter of alarm skirted her mind. No. She couldn’t afford to think anything positive about him. Luke had put her in a tailspin when they were younger; she wouldn’t let that happen this time.
Dear Reader,
This month seems to be all about change. Just as our heroines are about to have some fabulous makeovers, Silhouette Romance will be undergoing some changes over the next months that we believe will make this classic line even more relevant to your challenging lives. Of course, you’ll still find some of your favorite SR authors and favorite themes, but look for some new names, more international settings and even more emotional reads.
Over the next few months the company is also focusing attention on the new direction and package for Mills & Boon Romance. We believe that the blend of authors and stories coming in that line will thrill readers and satisfy every emotion.
Just like our heroines, my responsibilities will be changing, as I will be working on Mills & Boon NEXT. Please know how much I have enjoyed sharing these heartwarming, aspirational reads with you.
With all best wishes,
Ann Leslie Tuttle
Associate Senior Editor
The Hometown Hero Returns
Julianna Morris
For caregivers everywhere.
You make a special difference in the world.
Books by Julianna Morris
Silhouette Romance
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Family of Three #1178
Daddy Woke Up Married #1252
Dr. Dad #1278
The Marriage Stampede #1375
*Callie, Get Your Groom #1436
*Hannah Gets a Husband #1448
*Jodie’s Mail-Order Man #1460
Meeting Megan Again #1502
Tick Tock Goes the Baby Clock #1531
Last Chance for Baby! #1565
†A Date with a Billionaire #1590
†The Right Twin for Him #1676
†The Bachelor Boss #1703
†Just Between Friends #1731
†Meet Me under the Mistletoe #1796
The Hometown Hero Returns #1829
JULIANNA MORRIS
has an offbeat sense of humor, which frequently gets her into trouble. She is often accused of being curious about everything. Her interests range from oceanography and photography to traveling, antiquing, walking on the beach and reading science fiction.
Julianna loves cats of all shapes and sizes. Her family’s most recent feline companion is named Merlin, and like his namesake, Merlin is an alchemist—she says he can transform the house into a disaster area in nothing flat. And since he shares the premises with a writer, it’s interesting to note that he’s particularly fond of knocking books on the floor.
Julianna happily reports meeting Mr. Right. Together they are working on a dream of building a shoreline home in the Great Lakes area.
Dear Reader,
I come from a large family and have watched grandparents, great-aunts and other loved ones go through difficult times. It isn’t easy to see someone you love changing due to age or illness, but there can be many reasons for those changes. I believe it’s important to keep asking questions, and one of those questions should be about depression.
Depression is an illness that can be treated. Through personal experience I’ve seen that it can resemble other conditions, or it may not be diagnosed at all—remember that “Uncle Joe” may act quite differently at the doctor’s office than he does at home. I’ve seen it, and I’ve seen how a doctor can have a hard time seeing the changes a family has observed. I’ve also seen how asking questions, talking things out and getting treatment can make a world of difference.
While the recovery of the hero’s grandfather in my story is probably faster than would normally occur, I hope that reading this novel and hearing a little about my own experiences will help someone out there. You are not alone.
As a small side note, the artist who painted my hero’s great-grandmother is fictional. However, the other artists mentioned in the story are real. Artists such as Alfred Sisley and Mary Cassatt were gifted Impressionists. More about their work can be learned at the library or on the Internet.
My best wishes go with you and yours.
Julianna Morris
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter One
“Here goes nothing,” Nicki Johansson muttered.
She pulled a rectangular package from her car and stared at the house before her. He was inside that house. He was the last person she wanted to see. If she hadn’t owed so much to his grandfather, she wouldn’t have come within a mile of him ever again.
Still, Luke McCade was gorgeous.
But impossible—a reminder of awkward childhood days when a plain teenaged whiz kid in secondhand clothing had dreamed of having the captain of the football team fall in love with her.
Hah, Nicki snorted to herself. They’d been thrown together back then because Luke was in the hospital and needed a tutor. She’d convinced herself that his bored flirting might actually mean something, even though she hadn’t even liked him…at least, not that much. But she did like and admire his grandfather. She’d do almost anything for Professor McCade. She’d even face Luke and all the memories he represented.
She marched up the walkway with the thought that Luke might have put her in a tailspin when they were younger, but not anymore. Despite her resolve, her pulse hammered in her throat as the door swung open and his broad shoulders filled the space.
“Yes?” he said without a spark of recognition in his brown eyes.
Nicki shifted her feet, torn between an unsettling attraction to Luke’s athletic grace and fallen-angel looks, and an obligation to his grandfather. Darn him. If there were any justice in the world he would have developed a paunch and a receding hairline.
“Whatever it is, we’re not buying anything.” He began to close the door and Nicki stuck out her hand.
“No, wait, I’m not a salesman. That is, a saleswoman, or should it be a…a s-salesperson?” she stuttered as his brow gathered into a frown. Swell, she sounded like an idiot. “I’m here about the yard sale a few months ago.”
“Oh.” Luke sighed. “Look, we appreciate people bringing things back that Grandfather shouldn’t have sold, but I’m sure it’s all right if you keep whatever it is. He’s confused and not himself, but the valuable stuff is still here.”
“No, it isn’t.”
His eyebrows shot high. “Excuse me?”
Nicki cleared her throat. If anything, he was more gorgeous than ever; small crinkles at the corners of his eyes and a few strands of silver in his black hair made him look solid and dependable.
No.
A flutter of alarm skirted her mind.
She couldn’t afford to think anything positive about him. Luke McCade had always made her want things she didn’t have. Somebody to love and want her, as much as she loved and wanted him. To belong. Luke served as a reminder that it might never happen. She was alone in the world, while he belonged to a large, loving family. Now he’d come back from Chicago to help his grandfather, showing that he wasn’t as selfish as she’d always thought.
“May I come in?”
Nicki stiffened when Luke hesitated, then took a calming breath. She had a bad habit of overreacting when her confidence was shaken; friends said her pride could make her as bristly as a pincushion. It was a holdover from always being the odd kid out when she was a child.
“I’m not a thief or con artist or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said finally, trying to sound reasonable.
“I didn’t think you were. It’s just…” Luke shrugged and stepped back, opening the door wider.
Nicki had never seen the interior of the McCade house, and she looked about curiously. Inside, the foyer was big and airy with rooms opening off it, and through one of the archways Nicki saw her old professor dozing in a chair. He was a lovely man who’d devoted himself to art and teaching…quite the opposite of his eldest grandson, who had gained a reputation as a hard-nosed businessman interested solely in profit margins. She knew this because the local newspaper often ran articles about him, and his name was regularly in the Chicago paper she read.
“This way,” Luke said, motioning in the opposite direction.
“How is Mr. McCade doing?” she asked as she was led to the kitchen.
“Fine,” he said, giving her a careful look. “Do you know my grandfather?”
She put the package on the table. “We’re acquainted.” It was the truth, but only part of it. She’d been a shy student in the back of Professor McCade’s classes, trying to avoid notice. But the lessons he’d taught about the beauty of art and the human spirit would stay with her forever. “I…um, took all of his courses at the college before he retired. Plus, it’s a small town,” she added.
“Yes, it is,” Luke said slowly.
Drat.
She didn’t want to get him thinking. If he remembered her, he’d remember his nickname for her…Little Miss Four-Point-O. She’d just hated that name, which had naturally pleased Mr. Perfect Captain of the high school football team to no end. Of course, that probably was the point of calling her names in the first place.
“Anyway, I’m here about the picture frame I bought.” She ripped the brown paper from the face of the package and held it up for him to look at.
“It’s nice, I suppose,” he murmured, barely giving the frame and painting a glance.
Nicki rolled her eyes. Luke was certainly obtuse about the fine points. Maybe it had something to do with him being a land developer. No doubt when someone was tearing down buildings and putting up strip malls, subtlety didn’t have much value. On the other hand, maybe it was because he was an ex-jock. Her ex-husband had been a sports guy like Luke, and he’d possessed the sensitivity of a steamroller.
Along with a few other undesirable qualities.
Sighing, she looked Luke square in the eye.
“It isn’t about the frame. I mean, that’s why I bought it, but that’s not…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to collect her thoughts. “The thing is, when I examined the painting I discovered it was quite valuable. Take a look at the signature.”
Leaning forward, he pulled a bit of paper away from the lower right-hand corner of the canvas. “A. Metlock. So?”
“So, Arthur Metlock was one of the finest American impressionists of his day.”
Luke swallowed a stab of impatience. His uninvited guest had big blue eyes in a heart-shaped face, and a scatterbrained manner that was oddly appealing. If she’d shown up at his office in Chicago selling raffle tickets he would have bought a dozen. But right now he was getting ready to go back to Chicago and didn’t have time to think about anything except his grandfather’s worsening health. The doctor had diagnosed senility and prescribed medication to slow the progress of the condition, but nothing was helping.
“Look, Miss…?”
“J-Johansson.”
“Miss Johansson. So it’s worth a few dollars more than you paid for it. We don’t mind. Granddad probably won’t be staying in the house, which means we’ll be getting rid of most everything, anyway, before we sell the place.”
“I can’t keep this.” She sounded genuinely shocked.
Lord. Luke had forgotten how stubborn people from Divine, Illinois, could be. He was accustomed to a cutthroat business world where getting a steal of a deal was the ultimate achievement. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the woman’s honesty—too few women were honest about anything—but he didn’t have the time or energy to deal with something new.
“Truly, you don’t have to worry about it,” he said, knowing irritation had crept into his tone.
“Of course I’m worried.” Her obstinate expression seemed familiar for some reason. “It’s worth at least twenty thousand dollars.”
Luke blinked. She had to be mistaken. His grandfather had been a shrewd man in his day, writing popular art history books, collecting art and teaching at the local private college. No matter how mentally shaky he might be now, he wouldn’t have sold a valuable painting at a yard sale.
But then…Luke rubbed his temples. Granddad had gone downhill after Grams’s death three years ago. It was one of the worst parts of their loss. Grams had gone quickly, her smile still bright and true despite the swift course of her illness. But Granddad seemed to lose a piece of himself with each day that passed, without even trying to get better. In fact, he seemed determined not to get better. Love had done that, taken the spirit out of him.
Luke didn’t have any use for love. It had betrayed him more than once, and his grandfather’s pain was just another reason not to trust an emotion that was elusive at best, destructive at worst.
“How do you know it’s worth that much?” he asked. “Are you some sort of art genius or something?”
Out of the blue, the woman turned pink. The color was kind of pretty next to her tousled gold curls and blue eyes, and Luke watched with interest. It had been a long while since he’d seen a woman blush—probably not since he was a kid and he’d embarrassed the hell out of Little Miss Four-Point-O, the smartest kid in school….
His eyes widened.
Johansson? Why hadn’t he noticed before?
“As I live and breathe,” he drawled. “If it isn’t Nicole Johansson.”
“And if it isn’t Stud McCade,” Nicki tossed back, as defiant as ever.
Luke winced at the nickname he’d once strutted over. In the old days he’d been smugly confident that he was irresistible to women and about his future as a pro football player—until his senior year, when basketball with his buddies had turned into twelve weeks of traction. That was when he’d gotten up close and personal with Little Miss Four-Point-O. She’d been hired to tutor him.
The memory was bleak enough without recalling what it meant to be Divine’s football hero, injured just as the team was on its way to the state finals for the first time. Maybe things would have been different if he’d gotten hurt during a football game, but the entire town had hated him for blowing things when it mattered most. All except Nicki, who hadn’t cared about football one way or the other. She’d hated him for other reasons…most of the time.
“You’ve changed,” he said.
“You haven’t.”
It didn’t sound like a compliment, and Luke couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t behaved well back then, resenting being tutored by a kid nearly three years younger than him. He tormented her because of it…when he wasn’t trying to tease her into a kiss. She’d been cute in a studious sort of way, and he’d been bored. And angry, at Divine and the rest of the world. Very angry. He’d had a chip on his shoulder the size of Canada.
Because it was easier thinking about something else, he looked at the painting. “We’ll get this appraised. If it’s that valuable you should receive a reward. By the way, how much did you pay my grandfather for it? I need to refund your money.” He reached and pulled out his wallet.
“There’s no need.”
“I’m serious. I can’t take something for nothing.”
“What you really mean is that you can’t let yourself be beholden to someone here in Divine. Right?” Nicki asked tartly.
“Still analyzing me, are you?”
“Jocks aren’t hard to analyze, they only have one thing on their mind.”
“Maybe, but I sure didn’t get that one thing from you, did I? ’Cause good girls don’t put out,” he said mockingly.
“You only wanted me because I was the only girl around,” she snapped. “If there’d been a cheerleader in the room I would have been invisible. And just how far do you think we could have gone with you in traction?”
“Hey, I was willing to be creative.”
“Stop squabbling, children,” said an amused voice, and Luke glared at his sister, who was standing in the kitchen doorway. There were times she could imitate their mother annoyingly well.
“What do you want, Sherrie?”
She made a face. “I just got off the phone from California. My partner at the veterinary clinic broke her leg last night, so there’s no one to cover the practice.”
Luke uttered a curse and closed his eyes to close out Sherrie’s worried expression and Nicki’s reddened cheeks. Over the past year the family had spent an increasing amount of time in Divine, trying to help his grandfather stay in his own home. He’d been back in Divine himself for the last three weeks, and Sherrie had just arrived to take a turn.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find someone to cover the clinic,” Sherrie said quickly.
“No. You’ve spent more time here than anyone, and it isn’t fair to ask you to do more than the rest of us. I’ll arrange to stay longer. You can fly back today.”
Embarrassment warmed Nicki’s cheeks as she gazed between the siblings. They were dealing with a serious problem, and she’d let an old resentment get the better of her. Resentment based on insecurity.
Involuntarily, she glanced down. She’d put on a loose cotton dress, suitable to the unseasonable late May heat. It wasn’t stylish, but at least it wasn’t as bad as her clothes used to be. Perhaps she ought to do something about the way she dressed. Yet as soon as the thought formed, she pushed it away. It felt too much like hoping to catch Luke’s attention, though they weren’t likely to meet again. Besides, she wasn’t the kind of woman that a man like Luke wanted. His kind of woman was beautiful and sophisticated and sexually confident, while she was anything but those things.
“I’m sorry, Nicki,” Sherrie said. “I shouldn’t have interrupted, but it was just like hearing you guys fight in the old days.”
“That’s all right.” Nicki smiled. She’d enjoyed visiting with Sherrie when they were kids, though Nicki’s father hadn’t wanted her to be friends with anyone, saying it would distract her from schoolwork. But Sherrie had been nice, when her brother wasn’t, and they’d often gone down to the hospital cafeteria to talk. “I’m sorry about your grandfather. I admire him so much. Is there anything I can do to help?”
It was an offer she meant with all her heart. John McCade had inspired her to pursue a career different from what her authoritarian father wanted. The professor could never know how much his warmth and small kindnesses had meant to a lonely girl who’d never felt as if she belonged.
“Well, we—”
“No,” Luke interjected quickly. “We don’t need any help.”
Both women ignored him.
“Anything you could do would be wonderful,” Sherrie said. “It’s been tough trying to keep things together here. What brings you over today?”
“I’m returning a painting Professor McCade accidentally sold to me at a yard sale,” Nicki explained. “I teach art history at the college, but I also do appraisal work for several museums. So, when I discovered it was such a fine piece, I couldn’t possibly keep it.” She shot a look at Luke, daring him to say something sarcastic.
“This is Great-grandmother Helena,” Sherrie said, examining the portrait. She gave her brother a worried look. “We’ll have to have everything in the house inventoried. We have no idea how valuable Granddad’s collection might be. At the very least it should be insured until we decide what to do.”
Luke nodded. “I’ll look into it.”
Sherrie brightened. “Maybe Nicki could inventory the collection for us. She’d be perfect for the job.”
“Uh…no, Sherrie. That is, we couldn’t possibly impose.”
Nicki lifted her chin. “I did offer to help,” she said stiffly, at the same time wishing desperately that it was Sherrie who was staying in Divine, instead of Luke.
“Why?” he asked with characteristic bluntness. “You don’t owe us anything.”
“I don’t owe you anything, that’s for sure,” Nicki snapped. “But Professor McCade is different. He’s…well…I became interested in art when he started coming to the high school as a guest lecturer. Of course, in the beginning I enjoyed it because that kind of thing drove my father crazy. That is, I started acting interested because it drove him nuts. He wanted me to be a scientist or something else he considered really impressive.”
Luke stared at her.
“Um, that isn’t my point,” Nicki muttered. Her brain had short-circuited. Something about Luke’s dark hair and eyes and long, powerful body had a chemical effect on her. Back in school she used to feel like a shrimp next to him—a yellow-topped pixie in bad clothes and an even worse haircut. Her entire childhood had been one bad-hair day.
“What is the point?” he asked impatiently.
“Professor McCade always seemed so happy and I thought it was because he was so passionate about art. Of course, now I know it was mostly because he loved his wife so much and they had such a great marr—”
“Nicki. Please get to the point.” He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a stern look.
“Your grandfather inspired me,” she said. “I told my father I was taking an evening math course at the college under a program for advanced students, but I was really taking one of Professor McCade’s art history classes. I know I shouldn’t have lied….” Her voice trailed and she blushed again.
Luke watched, still fascinated by the way color spread across Nicki’s cheeks. He couldn’t imagine the women he knew in Chicago getting embarrassed by anything, much less the memory of a harmless white lie they’d told in high school. For that matter, he couldn’t imagine any grown woman blushing. Maybe it was a trick of Nicki’s fair Scandinavian skin.
“Well, anyway,” she said, the pink of her blush deepening, “it was because of Professor McCade that I went backpacking through Europe and saw such wonderful paintings and architecture in Italy and other places. He probably doesn’t know it, but he changed my life.”
Luke sighed, understanding a little better. Someone like Nicki would never keep something valuable she hadn’t paid full price for, not when it belonged to someone she admired so much.
His world didn’t allow for Nicki’s brand of idealism. And he could never have returned to Divine to live, the way she’d done. After graduation all he’d wanted was to prove to the town he wasn’t a loser…that he wasn’t like those guys who became big and important in high school, then turned into bullies on the local police force as they tried to relive “the old days.”
He even felt like a bully now for taunting Nicki over the past. It was hell coming home, especially with old feelings sitting around like land mines waiting to explode. You thought you were a responsible adult and then bam, you reverted to acting like a two-year-old.
Obviously, having her around wasn’t a good idea. He’d been trying to manage his business long distance, while at the same time caring for his grandfather, and didn’t have time for distractions. Especially distractions like Nicki. She might be annoying, but she was also cute, smart and sexy.
