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His Brother's Bride

Harlequin Enterprises

Chapter One

Three hours on the road up from Manhattan, Highway 8 had merged into Highway 7, and the lush beauty of the Berkshires surrounded her. Rolling green hills and towering trees - it was a beauty she'd almost forgotten. Or perhaps she had buried it deep inside of her with other things she'd been unable to bear losing. Yet, it would always be a part of her.

Elation at coming home was mixed with a devastation she couldn't endure. Everything was rushing at her too quickly, overpowering her until she could hardly breathe.

Oh, Paul. It hurts so badly. Cooper's Corner was just ahead. It had been three and a half years. She was healing.

Glancing at herself in her rearview mirror, forcing herself to face the gray eyes staring back at her, Laurel London couldn't run from the truth.

Coming home had been a bad idea.

* * *

Three of the four guests had checked in. Maureen Cooper wasn't so much worried about the late arrival of the fourth as she was antsy to know that the woman would show up - that opening day was indeed going to be the success she andher brother, Clint, had envisioned in all of their best dreams.

Careful not to drip water on the off-white slacks and light green blouse she'd changed into to welcome her guests, Maureen finished arranging the flowers she'd brought in from the greenhouse, her long chestnut hair uncommonly free and falling around her shoulders as she worked. All of the vases in the guest rooms were full. This one in the gathering room was the last.

It was late August, less than a year since she and Clint had made the final move from their former lives to become proprietors of Twin Oaks Bed and Breakfast. The decision to open during Cooper's Corner Founders Day celebration was a good one. Ready-made festivities awaited their guests in town the next day. A barbecue. Fireworks.

Small-town revelry. That revelry was what Twin Oaks boasted about most. She and Clint were hoping to cater to New Yorkers and Bostonites: big-city families with children longing for fresh air and wide-open spaces; parents visiting their sons and daughters at Williams College or the Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts, both just a few miles away; honeymooners seeking a romantic hideaway. Twin Oaks would give them a taste of small-town pleasures. There were no fax lines, no Jacuzzi tubs - what Twin Oaks offered was a peaceful respite in the lovely Berkshires.

Tucking in a couple of daisies, Maureen stepped back to assess the results, still listening for the late arrival.

Admittedly, a bit of her nervousness had to do with the guest she'd just shown upstairs a short while before. William Byrd, author of New England's Best Bed and Breakfasts. His book was the bible for travelers looking for just the right place to stay. And he'd mentioned when he'd called to reserve their last remaining room for the grand opening that he was getting ready to put out his next edition.

Of course, the lock on their best guest room had to be the one that was still sticking. Not that he'd seemed to mind. Maureen had offered him another room, but he'd understood that there were always little glitches in any big renovation. He'd been quite effusive in his praise of the house.

And if he included Twin Oaks in his upcoming book, their new and somewhat risky venture would gain the exposure it needed to ensure success....

"Mommy, can we ..."

"... have a cookie?" Maureen turned as her three-year-old angels, dressed in identical denim overall shorts and high-top tennis shoes, came barreling into the gigantic gathering room - the heart of Twin Oaks with its great stone hearth and vintage piano.

Her daughters were this generation's contribution to the forest of trees lining the front drive. The Coopers were known for producing matching pairs, and each time a new set of twins was born, the family would plant a pair of oak trees on either side of the drive to commemorate the event.

Randi and Robin raced toward her, tripping over their feet, their blue-green eyes alight with anticipation.

"Uncle Clint's ..."

"... baking cookies." Light chestnut wisps curling around cherubic faces, the twins skidded to a stop in front of Maureen. Robin grabbed her mother's little finger, Randi her thumb on the opposite hand.

"Please?" they asked together.

Maureen hid a smile. "If Uncle Clint is baking, then you can each have one cookie," she said, stressing the one. The girls both had a sweet tooth, and she knew she had to set a limit or they would wangle the whole tray from their uncle.

"Yeah!" The little girls bounced up and down, still holding on to her fingers.

"Just one!" Maureen reminded. "Show Mommy how many one is."

The little girls looked at each other, then held up their pudgy pointer fingers.

"Okay," Maureen said, taking hold of both fingers at once. "You keep them just like this and tell Uncle Clint this is all you can have. Promise?"

The three-year-olds nodded as solemnly as if they held a life in the balance. Then, their fingers stretched out in front of them, they marched purposely from the room.

They were the reason Maureen anxiously awaited her fourth - and tardy - guest. A former detective with the New York City Police Department, Maureen could weather just about anything. But her babies' futures were at stake here. Twin Oaks was more than just an opportunity for her and her brother, Clint, to move their children home to Cooper's Corner. More than a means to support their kids. It was a way to hide Randi and Robin. And herself, too. It was a way to keep them safe. She didn't want anything to go wrong this opening weekend.

Maureen was so lost in thoughts of the past - the trial of New York mobster and murderer Carl Nevil; the threat against her life; the release of Carl's brother Owen from prison; the ensuing "accidents" that were certainly proof of Carl Nevil's threats being fulfilled - that she missed the Lexus pulling into the drive.

But she heard the car door shut and saw the slender woman climb out. Her lemon-blond hair was an unusual but beautiful shade, and she wore it shoulder length and pushed back behind one ear. She looked to be about the same height as Keegan, Clint's twelve-year-old son, who was still inches short of Maureen's own five-eleven frame. The woman was dressed casually, albeit elegantly, in designer jeans and a short-sleeved black sweater that fit her snugly and moved as sleekly as any fine silk should.

"Hi, you must be Laurel." Maureen greeted the woman at the door before her guest could even get up the front steps.

Cool it, Cooper, she admonished herself, no need to be overeager and make your guests uncomfortable - or worse, suspicious of just how much you have resting on this deal.

"Yes, I'm Laurel London," the other woman said. Her look was forthright, her handshake strong, yet Maureen sensed an odd kind of detachment in her. "I'm sorry I'm late. I, uh, had to stop ... on the way in."

"No problem," Maureen assured her. "Afternoon tea has already been served, I'm afraid, but if you're hungry I'm sure I can get Clint to put something together for you."

"That's okay." Laurel shook her head and looked around. "This place is great," she said softly.

And for a moment, as she was taking in the carefully arranged surroundings, Laurel London seemed to relax - to let down the guarded detachment she'd shown since arriving.

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Excerpted from His Brother's Bride by Tara Quinn Copyright © 2002 by Harlequin Enterprises
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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