Bernadette Willemina Grant stood in Tyler’s study, one hand planted on her hip, the telephone receiver clutched in her other. His twelve-year-old daughter wore a nearly threadbare T-shirt, faded jeans and large black rubber boots that crept halfway up her thighs. Helen would have his hide for sur...
her hormones crowed as adrenaline zinged through her veins. A rush of heat skimmed her nerves, her nipples pebbled, warmth flooded her thighs, and her hands trembled. Or maybe the hand trembling was caused by the sudden fear niggling at her brain. Fear? Of Val? A ghost? He looked anything but a g...