"A fascinating tale of betrayal with love conquering all."
Reviewed by Mandy Burns
Posted May 8, 2010
Romance Series | Romance Suspense
Undercover cop Marcus North is in Murphy's Point,
Mississippi, as punishment for a mission gone bad. Thinking
there will be little or no action, Marcus is excited when a
robbery case involving a military security group and a
casino with too much money lying around falls directly in
his path. Marcus knows he is close to burning out , but as
always, he will do the job to the best of his ability.
However, the lines between fiction and salvation are
blurring for Marcus and the difference between right and
wrong is making decisions difficult. Cally Burnett has taken her husband's family home and
turned it into the only Bed and Breakfast in Murphy's
Point. The renovations and Cally's young son, Harris, keep
her busy enough not to dwell on the past. The available
rooms are starting to fill up with one customer staying on
a long term basis. Cally's interest in men since her
husband's death has been non-existent until Marcus North,
her long-term tenant, stirs ups feelings she thought were
long-buried. And Marcus endears himself to Cally by taking
a special interest in Harris' well-being. When Cally
accidentally comes across dangerous information while
cleaning some rooms, it forces her to protect Harris. Then
everything goes wrong, uncovering a devastating betrayal. Kay Thomas has created a tale of betrayal and
conquering love worthy of your time.
SUMMARY
Marcus North was an intriguing mystery to the residents of
Murphy’s Point, Mississippi—especially Cally Burnett, the
single mom who ran the B and B where Marcus stayed. But
despite the instant attraction that flared between them,
Cally couldn’t have guessed the secrets Marcus hid, or the
way those secrets would come to haunt them both. Working undercover on a crucial case, Marcus had to keep
his identity hidden...but his desire to protect the young
mother and her son had him putting everything else at
risk. Including his career—and his life. Passion—and desperation—rise as the determined mother and
sexy cop come to an uneasy alliance, and everything rides
on one deadly night...
ExcerptMurphy's Point, South Mississippi Memorial Day Weekend
Saturday, early evening"Boat sink! Boat sink!" Harris splashed and water
slipped over the side of the claw-footed tub into Cally's
lap. "Of course it does when you have a tidal wave,
sweetie." "Don't want it to sink." "Then don't splash so much, darlin'. It's almost time to
get out—two more minutes." Cally surveyed the flooded floor. She wasn't sure but there
was probably as much water on her as on the bath mat. Her
son loved his baths. Of course, she'd need to mop up
afterwards. Still, this was her favorite part of the day. By now her
inn-keeping duties were usually done until the following
morning when breakfast was served, and she was free to focus
on her son. But tonight her guests were running late, so she
was getting a head start on the evening routine before they
checked in to River Trace. She would be sold-out with Gregor Williams's group coming in
for a gambling holiday, plus her new boarder, Mr. North.
She'd never intended to take in a long-term resident, but
McCay County was the only area of the state with a housing
shortage in this depressed economy. Two hurricanes had
recently swept the Mississippi coastline back to back,
ravaging an area still struggling after Katrina. Mr. North, one of the Paddlewheel Casino's onsite
bodyguards, was tired of making the hour-and-a-half commute
to work from Jackson, and he was more than willing to live
here until he could find a more permanent residence. She
hadn't met him yet. He'd done everything through e-mail, but
she hoped he was pleasant. Even if he wasn't, the money was
too good to turn down. She and Bay, the groundskeeper, had just finished his room
today. They'd gradually been converting all the bedrooms in
River Trace to guestrooms as the business increased. Moving
that antique armoire up to the attic room had about killed
them both. But they'd done it, all while Harris napped down
here—compliments of her new high-tech baby monitor. Cally still couldn't believe she was living her dream of
running a bed-and-breakfast in Murphy's Point. Of course
that dream had come at a crushing price. At twenty-eight
years old, she was a widow with a three-year-old son. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Damn it. She
hated to cry. It had been almost four years and the grief
could still unexpectedly bring her to her knees. Sometimes
the pain snuck up on her like this and grabbed her from
behind. She didn't have time for it. "Boat sink! Boat sink!" More water hit the floor and
splattered her shirt, shaking her from memories best left in
the past. "Okay, sailor. It's time to abandon ship and get ready
for bed." Harris giggled. "I bring boat?" "Yes, darling. As soon as I dry it off." "Yay! Harris take boat to bed…to bed." Oh, the cry of my heart. "Now let's get your
pj's on and brush those teeth." Bong. Bong. "Doorbell, Momma." "Yes, honey. I hear it." One of her guests no doubt.
She scrambled up with a wiggling, wet toddler in her arms.
Great. "Let's see how fast we can get those pj's on." After a couple of tries Cally gave up on the pajamas. They
were sticking to the damp places on Harris's back, arms and
bottom. "Well, let's just get underwear on so you aren't
completely naked." She slipped in a puddle as she
stepped out of the bathroom and went down on the one knee
that, up to that point, had been dry. Bong. Bong. "Coming, coming," she muttered under her breath.
"Keep your shirt on." "Not wearing shirt, Momma." Cally grinned in spite of herself. She passed the gilded
mirror in the hallway and her blue eyes widened. How much
water had Harris splashed on her? Her thick hair, wavy under the best of circumstances, was
now falling out of the bun on top of her head and curling
around her face in ringlets. Her makeup was completely gone,
except for that smear of mascara under her left eye. Her
clothes were…soaked. And there was a large wet spot
across the front of her blouse that made it practically
transparent. Lovely. Bong. No time to change into dry clothes. She shifted
Harris from her hip to her chest and clasped both hands
under his bottom. She glanced in the mirror again. At least she couldn't see
her bra through the shirt anymore because Harris now covered
her like a blanket. She took a swipe at the mascara and
snorted a laugh at the effort. So much for first impressions. Marcus was ringing the bell for the fourth time as the heavy
front door swung open. The woman behind the massive
oak-and-glass panel held a wet-haired toddler and looked as
if she had just stepped out of the bathtub in her clothes. Marcus started to reach out to shake the lady's hand and
realized she couldn't let go of the child. "Hi, I'm Marcus North. I think you were expecting me
earlier?" He smiled. The kid was wriggling and getting the mother's shirt even
wetter and more transparent as he turned around in her arms
trying to get a look at the stranger. The woman brushed
curly red hair out of her eyes. She smiled tentatively but
her cornflower-blue eyes looked somewhat panicked. "Hello, Mr. North. I'm Cally Burnett. Welcome to River
Trace Inn. I'm glad you're here." She talked fast.
"Come on inside. We'll get you all checked in.
I…" She hesitated as she looked down at her
clothes, clearly uncomfortable at being caught unprepared. Marcus attempted to put her at ease. "Did you fall
in?" he asked with a straight face. "What…? No…I mean," she stammered and
looked down again at her water-stained clothes as a genuine
smile tugged at the edge of her lips. She had a beautiful
mouth with twin dimples accenting the corners. "I know
it looks that way but, actually, I only went wading." "They say one can drown in two inches of water." He
grinned back at her. Cally winced and seemed to recover her smile, but the
dimples were gone. "That's about how much water is on
the bathroom floor." "Well, he looks as if he certainly enjoyed putting it
there." Marcus turned his attention to the little boy
who was openly staring at him with a confused look. "Momma didn't fall. She giving me bathed." Her mouth dimpled faintly. "Of course not, darling. We
were just joking. Mr. North, this is my son, Harris." "Hi, Mr. Nowth." Marcus reached out his hand to shake Harris's damp one.
"Hi, Harris, it's nice to meet you." "Let's get you all settled. You must be tired after your
drive." Cally began the innkeeper's patter as she
brought him into the high-ceilinged living room and over to
an antique secretary to handle the paperwork. "No, not so much." Marcus looked around the
magnificent room, his undercover cop's brain automatically
taking note of and cataloguing details. From the front door
he had stepped directly into a large living area with a baby
grand piano at one end and a fireplace at the other. Soft
moss-green walls made the grandeur much more comfortable
than he would have thought possible. Hardwood floors were covered with several different richly
colored oriental rugs. Two loveseats from a bygone era
nestled close to the fireplace. Beyond the sitting area on
the right he glimpsed the dining room's huge banquet table
and antique sideboard. A large rose-crystal chandelier
glowed dimly over the table that was already set for
breakfast with heavy silver serving pieces and crystal
goblets. A grand staircase ran parallel to the room on the opposite
end by the piano. A hallway lay straight ahead that seemed
to go toward the back of the house, and rooms connected off
each end of the living room. "You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Burnett. How long have
you lived here?" "A little over eight years." She looked up from the
registration book. "This was my husband's family home.
His great-grandfather built it at the turn of the
century." "Oh, so it doesn't date back to the Civil War." "No," she laughed softly. "Although I'm afraid
the Chamber of Commerce wishes it did. They wanted to
suggest that perhaps William Faulkner slept here. But the
sad fact is nothing of historic significance has ever
occurred at River Trace." "Except raising the Burnett family of course." Her dimples reappeared. "So do you and your husband run the bed-and-breakfast?
" Again, her smile faltered. "No, my husband died almost
four years ago. I run River Trace myself with the help of
Bay and Luella Wiggins." Now it was Marcus's turn to wince. "I'm sorry, I didn't
know." She shook her head and looked back down at the paperwork.
"That's all right. It…ithappens all the
time." She stopped writing to look up at him directly.
"I know you don't know what to say." Marcus nodded gratefully, feeling that he was definitely
losing his social skills. He wondered what had happened to
the husband. As if reading his thoughts, Harris piped up, "Daddy
dwowned…but not in bathtub." Cally gaped at the child in shocked surprise. Marcus
groaned. No wonder his earlier comment about drowning had
caused such an unusual reaction. "That's right, honey." She recovered herself and
held him close as she patted his back and looked into his
eyes. "He lives in heaven with angels." "Um-hmm," she murmured, still staring into the boy's
face. "Lulu says so. Bay, too." "That's right, baby. That's right." She gazed at Harris a moment longer, continuing to cuddle
him and took a deep breath. He laid his head on her
shoulder. Marcus shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with his
eavesdropping. It usually wouldn't bother him, but in this
case, it was extraordinarily awkward. She seemed to sense his discomfort. "I'm sorry, I didn't
realize he knew what that meant. I mean we've talked about
it, but…" She stopped, blushed a deep pink,
clearly at a loss for words. "That's all right. I'm sorry about what I said
earlier." Her forehead creased, "About?" "About…the tub." "Oh," she nodded. "You must be wondering after
all this." Her hand fluttered about Harris's back but her voice was
cool and composed. "My husband was in a boating
accident. He was duck-hunting and putting out decoys when
the boat capsized. His waders filled with water and he
drowned." "I'm terribly sorry." "I am, too." She sighed. "But life goes on."
She looked at the little boy in her arms and gave him a
squeeze. "Here's the proof." Harris giggled
sleepily. "Let me show you to your room. It's right up
these steps." Marcus followed her to the grand
staircase. Their feet were silent on the carpeted steps. "Your room was originally an attic when the house was
built. At one time it was a nursery. Now it's definitely the
most secluded spot at River Trace." At the top of the second flight, Cally turned left and led
him past several rooms toward the back of the house. Her
hair had come out of its pins and was trailing halfway down
her back in ringlets. Marcus watched as Harris opened and
closed his fists around one of the curls. The outline of her bra strap was clearly visible through the
wet shirt. It was lacey, pink and distracting the hell out
of him. She turned right and paused at another landing. "I thought since you were going to be here a while, this
would give you more privacy. You have your own bath and
there's another stairway here if you prefer. It was
originally a servants' stairway. And if you've had areally
long day…" She didn't finish the sentence as she
pointed toward the antique one-man elevator. "It still works?" he asked. Cally nodded, opened a door and led him up a narrow
stairwell. He could see how the location would have been
perfect for a child's nursery. "We just finished getting it all together today." Marcus stepped up into the room behind her. She crossed
another oriental rug and sat Harris down on a wide window
seat. As she leaned over to close the window, he got an unexpected
but rather spectacular view of her butt in the water-soaked
jeans. Her wet shirt had ridden up and he could see a line
of milky-white skin along her back. He caught himself staring, imagining the view under
different circumstances. If she turned around without
picking up the boy first, he'd get a peek at the latest
Victoria's Secret had to offer. With a jolt he realized he
wasn't paying attention to a word she was saying. "…we painted earlier this week, but I wanted to
make sure the smell was completely gone." Marcus took in a gulp of air, attempting to clear the erotic
images forming in his head. "Hmm. All I smell is
ah…flowers?" "Yes." Cally smiled, completely unaware of where his
thoughts had been. "That would be the potpourri."
She nodded at a silver bowl on the captain's desk to his
right. "The bathroom's through here." She pointed toward
the small hallway to his left; straight ahead was a
queen-size bed flanked by small antique tables. "We just
moved the armoire in today." He reassessed her as he took in the large cabinetry opposite
the window. "You moved that yourself? Up those
stairs?" He studied her slim build and tried to imagine
her lifting the heavy antique. Even with a man helping her,
it was a formidable job. "Well, Bay and I did. I couldn't have done it on my own.
I can't imagine doing any of this without the Wigginses.
You'll meet him and Luella tomorrow. River Trace simply
couldn't run without them. They're amazing." "I'd say so." He mentally struggled to get focused
again. "Let's see. I need to get you more towels, and you need
a brandy decanter." She ticked the items off on her
fingers. "Excuse me?" "It's a gift when you check in. Our special label.
Homemade peach brandy. Not to be missed." She stared
straight at him—open and friendly, but it wasn't a
come-on. He knew that. Facing him, she wasn't holding the kid. Marcus locked his
eyes on hers and willed himself not to look below her neck
at that transparent shirt. "Now…what else. Oh, yes. Since you're up three
stories here, the fire marshal insists I tell you how to get
out in case the stairway is blocked during a fire." She
headed for the window seat. Marcus swallowed hard when she bent over to pick up Harris
and lifted the lid on the built-in seat. Her shirt rode up
again revealing more of that creamy skin that he was
suddenly very curious to touch. "There's a ladder here," she said over her shoulder. She reached for the jumble of metal and rope, and he
realized he was staring again. He was going to get busted if
he didn't stop. He reached around her, accidentally brushing
against her shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered. She startled. "Thank you," she murmured, stepping
aside. "You attach it by those handles to the window and
then you can ease down to the roof." "Where do I go from there?" he asked, keeping his
voice as neutral as possible. Touching her had been a bad
idea, a really bad idea. Cally turned to look at him with a sober face and sparkling
eyes. "You jump." He barked a laugh.
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