Page 1 of A Tempting Seduction

Prologue

TWO YEARS AGO.

The threadbare chair in room twelve of the LeeHy Motel creaked every time I shifted my weight. Three o'clock in the afternoon, and I sat staring at the water stain on the popcorn ceiling, fighting back tears. There was a brown stain that reminded me of a creepy clown that had given me nightmares when I was five years old.

I pressed my palms against my eyes and took a shaky breath. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

The plan had been simple. Drive to Jasper Creek, Tennessee. Find my mother's parents, Susan and Daniel Miller. Throw myself on their mercy and beg for help while I figured out what to do next.

Except Susan and Daniel Miller were buried in the Jasper Creek Cemetery under matching headstones that read “Beloved Parents and Grandparents.” The dates told me they'd died six years ago, within three months of each other.

Six years too late for me.

When I'd left Los Angeles five days ago, I'd had ten thousand dollars in cash, legitimate documents that would let me live as Ruby Miller instead of Ruby Banks, and Dad's final words echoing in my head, “If anything happens to me, go to Jasper Creek.”

Now I had maybe thirteen hundred dollars left, a car that made worrying noises, and absolutely nowhere to go. I couldn't go back. Dad was dead… killed by my stepmother's father, that evil mongrel Horace Waters. Going back meant ending up just as dead, or worse—married to Lance Leeds and trapped in a life that would slowly destroy whatever was left of my soul.

I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. Sitting here wouldn't solve anything.

Pearl's Restaurant looked like it had been there since the 1950s. A bell chimed when I pushed through the front door, and the smell of fried food hit me like a warm hug.

A woman with orange hair teased into a beehive looked up from behind the cash register. “Afternoon, honey. Just yourself?”

I nodded.

“Seat yourself,” she said waving to tables and booths on the far side of the restaurant.

I chose a booth by the window and settled in with the ancient phone book the motel kid had given me. I flipped to the M section. Michaels, Miles...

Miller, Rose. My mom’s sister. Right there, clear as day.

My heart jumped. This Rose Miller might be my aunt. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed, holding my breath.

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

The tears I'd been holding back all day finally spilled over. I put my head in my hands and let them come.

“Honey, what's wrong?”

I looked up to find the same waitress standing beside my booth, her face creased with concern.

I opened my mouth to talk about my aunt, then realized I couldn’t, not if I wanted to hide my identity. “I was trying to find an old friend of my mother's. Rose Miller. But the number's disconnected.”

Her face brightened. “Rose Miller? Well, of course I know Rose. She moved to Denver about eight years ago. But you should talk to Rose's grandma. Miss Gladiola. She might help you get in touch with Rose.”

Hope flickered in my chest. “Gladiola?”

“Gladiola Dubois-Miller. Sweetest woman you'll ever meet. She lives with her sister on Elm Street. Let me give her a call.”

Five minutes later, I had an address and directions to a little yellow house with a big garden.

The yellow house on Elm Street looked like something from a fairy tale, every inch of the front yard bursting with flowers in so many colors that it made my chest ache.

I sat in my car for a full minute, suddenly conscious of how I must look. Five days of cheap motels and truck stop bathrooms had left me feeling grimy and desperate. My jeans hadn't been washed in over a week, and my sweater smelled like fear and exhaustion.

But I didn't have anywhere else to go.

I walked up the stone path and knocked. Footsteps approached, and then the door swung open to reveal a tiny woman with silver hair… and green eyes that I saw every day in the mirror.