The Charmer

By Leona Karr

AVENGING ANGELS

Mortals can miss things

Ever since a car accident temporarily took single mother Shanna Ryan's eyesight, a little guardian angel had been operating as her eyes. Shanna needed heavenly protection more than she knew because she and her daughter had been targeted by a killer.

Dr. Jay Harrison had heroically pulled Shanna from the wreck. His sensuous voice and tender touch ignited her desires. But could Shanna put her trust in a man she couldn't see? And could the littlest angel save the family she'd taken under her wing the family she would have wanted for her own, if only she were human?

The sexiest angels this side of heaven!

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460877005

Leona Karr

The first time Leona (Lee) Karr saw her words in print was in the sixth grade when she won an essay contest and her entry was published in the city newspaper. That same thrill, always tinged with a little surprise, is still there after over 30 published books. Although she has written mysteries, historical romances, gothics, and paranormal romances, her favorite genre is romantic suspense, and her bookshelves are filled with tales of mysterious heroes and courageous heroines caught up in the excitement of an intrigue. A native of Colorado, she has set many of her books in the majestic Rocky Mountains near her home. Graduating from the University of Colorado with a B.A., and from the University of Northern Colorado with an M.A. degree, she taught as a reading specialist until her first book was published in 1980. Her books have been translated and published in many foreign countries with over a million of her books reprinted. After being widowed for five years, she recently married and is living her very own romantic story with her new husband and soul mate. Leona "wheels and deals" from a wheelchair after she was struck with a bout of polio just one year before the vaccine was approved for use. She has been blessed with children and grandchildren. She has been on the Waldenbooks bestseller List, nominated by Romantic Times for Best Romantic Saga, and Best Gothic Author. She has been honored as the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writer of the Year, and has received Colorado's Romance Writer of the Year Award. She is a presenter at numerous writing conferences and has taught college courses in creative writing. She writes five hours a day, happily chasing new stories of love, danger, and happiness. She is delighted when readers confess that her books kept them up half of the night reading.

Book preview

Chapter One

Midnight darkness seeped into the mountain valley, and the furtive figure skirting the old Victorian house was scarcely more than a flickering shadow in the moonless night. Tall lodgepole pines stood like giant sentinels on the rocky hillside, their thick-needled branches moving slightly in a hushed stillness.

A small porch lamp sent a radius of light down the front steps of the house, vaguely illuminating the far corners of the front porch but too feeble to reach the side of the house, where a late-model Ford was parked.

A crunch of hurried footsteps on the gravel broke the night’s stillness. A pair of gloved hands reached out and slowly and silently lifted the hood of the car. Muffled sounds of labored breathing and scraping metal were carried away on the soft night breeze. A moment later, retreating footsteps and a satisfied sigh left a hushed silence on the hillside.

There, it was done. And no one the wiser.

SHANNA LOOKED OUT the kitchen window and smiled as she watched her five-year-old daughter roll pebbles down the sloping hillside behind the house. A bright morning sun washed ponderosa pines and quivering aspen leaves with green-gold tints, and a cloudless April sky spread above distant peaks like a baby-blue blanket. A quiver of relief went through her. It was going to be all right. Holly had been jerked around from army base to army base all of her short life. It was time her child had a permanent home. Shanna lifted her chin even as an inner voice nagged, Are you sure you want to live in an isolated mountain community like this?

No, I’m not sure at all, she admitted to herself. A hundred times, she’d gone over the options facing her as an army widow since her husband’s accidental death. She’d married Allen before she even finished college, and her experience in the work field was zip. She had only two options: get a menial job and make her widow allotment stretch as far as possible, or try to do something with the property that she had unexpectedly inherited from her elderly Aunt Emma.

She had to admit that her first view of the two-storied house set against the rugged mountainside had been less than reassuring. To a woman used to compact army housing, the Victorian-style mansion looked quite formidable. She had despaired of it ever seeming like home, but after only a week in the house, she’d fallen in love with the high ceilings, ornate woodwork and wide halls that echoed as she walked across wide-planked oak floors. The idea of turning the place into a mountain bed-and-breakfast seemed a natural. She could hardly wait to begin picking out paint colors and wallpaper patterns.

Even though her Aunt Emma had kept up the property, Shanna saw a dozen improvements she needed to make before the first guest arrived. Her mind raced ahead with all the things that needed to be done. Then she caught herself. One thing at a time.

She swept a strand of reddish blond hair back from her forehead. Today they’d make the eighty-mile trip into Denver and stay overnight with one of Aunt Emma’s old friends, who had made them welcome when they arrived in Colorado. The shopping list she’d made would take a whole afternoon, and she had promised to take Holly to see a Disney movie.

As she watched-her curly-headed daughter bobbing happily around on the hillside, her eyes grew misty. Holly was a pretty child, with warm brown hair, alert blue eyes and a cute nose that wrinkled when she laughed. She was laughing now as if someone were playing a game with her. Ariel, thought Shanna. Her daughter’s imaginary little friend. Holly had developed her pretend playmate when she was about three. As far as Shanna could tell from Holly’s chatter, Ariel was a kind of older sister, about ten years old, with blond hair.

Shanna was well aware that some parents tried to discourage this kind, of fantasy, but she’d decided to play along with the idea. What harm could there be in Holly pretending that she had someone to play with? She’d outgrow the need soon enough as she got older. Shanna turned away from the window, deciding to let Holly stay outside a few more minutes before calling her in to clean up.

Mine’s faster than yours, squealed the little girl as she watched a round rock about the size of a baseball roll down the hill.

Ariel laughed, resisting the temptation to send a ripple of air behind her stone to hurry it along. She’d created the game to keep Holly entertained in the strange new mountain setting. A five-year-old could be trying at times, especially when her life had been turned upside down. Being a Guardian Angel was a challenge sometimes, particularly when Holly was scared or lonely and even a best friend couldn’t make it better.

You win, Ariel agreed, and was rewarded with a broad smile from Holly. Ariel’s heavenly existence had not included the responsibilities of Guardian Angel—until Holly. Although delighted with the special charge, she was still a novice in carrying out the earthly assignment. Ariel was content to materialize for Holly’s eyes only. Like best friends, they played together, talked together, and, when Holly woke up in the night, frightened or lonely, Ariel was like an older sister always there to comfort her. Everyone tried to convince Holly that her playmate was just pretend and when she told them exactly what Ariel looked like, they just sighed and patted her head. Sometimes Holly’s mother teased her about talking to herself but the two girls just smiled at each other. Adults didn’t know everything.

A few minutes later, the back door of the house opened and Shanna called, Holly. Time to come in.

Holly scrambled to her feet. Come on, Ariel. Race you to the house.

You’re on! Ariel laughed and let the little girl get a head start. Holly’s brown curls danced around her face as her little legs covered the ground in a rollicking gait. Ariel skimmed lightly over the ground behind her, her silken blond hair fanning out in the air.

I beat Ariel, Holly gasped as she bounded into the house.

Whoa! laughed Shanna as she steadied her. You’re lucky you didn’t fall on your face running down the hill like that.

Ariel wouldn’t let me, Holly said smugly.

The vote of confidence worried Ariel. In all honesty, she hadn’t quite mastered split-second interference tactics. She sometimes practiced on Jiggs, Holly’s little brown dog, by giving him a shove off the chair and then trying to catch him before he hit the floor. Most of the time she was quick enough Most of the time.

You can come to Denver with us, Holly told Ariel. Mama’s going to take us to a movie, but you’ll have to pay your own way.

Shanna overheard the remark and laughed to herself. Nothing like making imaginary friends go dutch. She gave her daughter an affectionate pat on the behind. Go wash up, Holly, and put on the yellow pinafore dress I laid on your bed.

Her daughter scampered up the stairs. Shanna lingered a moment in the kitchen and gave it a cursory look. An old coal range stood against one wall like a monster ready to belch black smoke, but Aunt Emma had installed a modern four-burner electric stove beside the range. Thanks heavens! Used to the compact kitchens of base housing, Shanna was still dismayed by the size of the room. Unhandy, old-fashioned working counters seemed a long way from the refrigerator and stove. She’d be walking miles back and forth between appliances and cupboards unless she installed an island worktable in the middle of the floor. Shanna frowned. All the changes couldn’t be made at once. Maybe the kitchen would have to wait until— The ring of the front doorbell broke into her mental prioritizing of improvements.

Who could that be? She hadn’t had any visitors the few days they’d been in the house. Jiggs beat her to the front door, woofing furiously. He was a small dog of undetermined parentage with caramel-colored fur and floppy ears.

Shanna peeked through a small beveled-glass window set in the front door and saw a rather blowsylooking woman with frizzed short hair bleached an uncertain blond color. Shanna scooted Jiggs out of the way with one foot and opened the door.

Hi. I’m Jan...Janet Rendell. My husband, Ted, and I own the fishing cabins along Clear Creek just below your property, the woman said in a marked Texas drawl. Makes us neighbors, you know. Thought I’d best drop by and say howdy. She wore tight jeans that molded her full hips, a fringed shirt that strained at the front buttons, and tasseled cowboy boots. Shanna decided the woman looked as if she might have a horse tethered nearby. Hope I didn’t catch y’all at a bad time.

No, not at all. Come in. Shanna stepped back, wishing she looked a little more presentable. In another few minutes she would have been cleaned up and dressed for town. That morning, she’d thrown on a pair of old sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt because the night chill lingered in the house. She’d already discovered that temperatures fell drastically after the sun went down in the high mountain valley.

Things are still a mess, Shanna apologized. I’m not very far along in unpacking.

Janet’s round eyes were openly curious as they registered Shanna’s reddish blond hair and traveled over her nicely endowed bustline, slim waist and slender legs. Maybe I can give you a hand.

Shanna didn’t respond to the offer as she led the way down the hall to a small sitting room adjoining the downstairs bedroom that her aunt had used in her later years. She was uncomfortably aware of the littered appearance of the room. She hadn’t had time to clear away her aunt’s knickknacks and dust the rosewood furniture, which included some lovely antique pieces.

The way her visitor was gawking around the room made Shanna think that she hadn’t been in the house before. Did you know my Aunt Emma?

Jan shifted the tooled leather bag she had hanging from one shoulder. "Everybody kinda knows everybody in this small town, but your aunt kept to herself. I reckon I should confess right up front that I write pieces for the weekly Westridge Courier. She gave a hearty laugh. People say I’m nosier than a badger poking his nose in a rabbit hole."

You’re a reporter?

Jan settled her buttocks in a Victorian wing chair. Well, now, I’d say more of a columnist. She laughed again. Folks have a natural curiosity about things and people. And I figure it’s my job to give ’em something interesting to read about. Right now, you’re the one who interests me.

I can’t imagine why, Shanna said, suddenly feeling slightly off-balance, the way she did when she unwittingly let a salesman or religious fanatic into the house. I assure you there’s nothing about me that would make good copy.

You’re a newcomer to Westridge, said Jan, as if that explained everything. She reached into the leather bag and pulled out a small spiral notebook and a pen. How do you think you’ll like living in an isolated mountain community like this?

Shanna-hesitated and then said firmly, I don’t think the isolation will bother me. I’ve spent most of my married life being pretty much confined to an army base.

Where are you from originally?

Hartford, Kansas. I met my husband when he was stationed at Fort Riley and I was a sophomore at Kansas State. I’d never been out of the state until I married Allen.

And you think you’ll like living alone in an old rambling house like this. Pretty lonely, I’d say.

I’m used to living alone, Shanna thought silently. Allen had been gone months at a time, and even when he was assigned to a home base, he’d spent his free time at the club or playing with his army buddies. It seemed to her that she’d never really shared her thoughts, her dreams or her inner self with him. But that part of her life was over, and she certainly wasn’t going to share it with this avaricious small-town gossip columnist.

How long have you been divorced? Janet asked.

Shanna blinked. Divorced? she echoed. I’m a widow. My husband, Major Allen Ryan, was killed in a helicopter crash several months ago.

Jan’s pen flew. Oh, I didn’t know. So you were an army wife. Traveled all over the world, I bet.

Not really. Shanna sighed. Propaganda made living on various bases sound romantic, when most of the tours were a painful adjustment for every member of the family. We spent two years on Okinawa. The rest of the time we were stateside. Holly was born in Fort Benning, Georgia, and my husband was reassigned every year since her birth. Shanna moistened her lips. When my aunt left me this property, I decided to settle down here with my daughter.

A widow. She eyed Shanna. A classy-looking gal like yourself living alone in a place like Westridge will cause a few tongues to wag.

Shanna hesitated. She wanted to put an end to this so-called interview, but she had the feeling that the woman would make up any facts she didn’t have, and if so, there was no telling what she would put in her column. Shanna worried about false rumors getting into print. Sooner or later everyone would know her plans for the house, and once the workmen arrived, she’d undoubtedly be a topic of conversation whether she wanted to be or not.

She was a little wary about the twist Janet might put on everything she said. There was something about the woman that reminded Shanna of a crocodile with its jaws open. Common sense told her not to get too close or cozy with Janet. They might be neighbors, but never friends.

I’ve decided to turn the house into a bed-and-breakfast, explained Shanna in a businesslike tone. I’ve been told that Westridge is about the right distance from Denver for a weekend stay.

Janet frowned and pursed her red lips. Don’t know who told you that. Westridge isn’t on the tourist track. Never has been. You’d do better to sell the property and put your money into something else.

But I don’t want to sell the property.

Then you must have plenty of money to sink into the place. Did your aunt leave you some assets besides the house? Rumors were that the old lady had a lot of money hidden under her mattress.

Shanna wasn’t going to grace such rumors with a reply. It wasn’t anybody’s business how she was going to pay for the renovations.

At that moment Holly yelled down from upstairs. Mommy! I can’t find my shoe.

Thankful for the interruption, Shanna stood up. I’m sorry you’re going to have to excuse me. I’m getting ready to make a trip to Denver.

Another time, then, Jan said with a practiced smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Not if I can help it, Shanna thought as she bid her neighbor goodbye. She closed the front door with a little more firmness than was necessary. She certainly hoped Jan Rendell wasn’t representative of Westridge’s welcome committee.

Shanna hurried upstairs to get herself ready for the trip into Denver, and had just changed into a pale cream summer skirt, paisley blouse and sandals when the doorbell rang again. She groaned. Had that woman come back to ask even more questions?

Shanna peered out the door glass and saw a young girl in her teens standing there in fringed shorts and a halter top. Long strands of blond hair fell limply around her scowling face as she jabbed the doorbell impatiently. A black-haired boy about a head taller shuffled nervously behind her. He wore overalls with one suspender hanging loose and a shirt that had grease stains all over it. His hair was as long as the girl’s but not as clean. Both of them stiffened and glared at Shanna as she opened the door.

Is my mother here? demanded the girl, her scowl deepening.

Your mother?

Janet Rendell. She said she was coming to see you.

Oh, she left a few a minutes ago.

What did she tell you?

About what? Shanna asked, puzzled.

The two teenagers exchanged quick glances.

Drop it, Billie Jo, the boy growled. I told you it was a stupid idea.

The girl gave a toss of her lank hair. Never mind, she said abruptly. Before Shanna could ask any questions, they turned, bounded down the front steps and climbed into an old model car of an uncertain blue color. Neither of them looked back at the house as the boy gunned the backfiring car down the narrow dirt road in a swirl of dust.

What was that all about, Shanna wondered as she closed the door. Weird, that’s what. She certainly hoped the rest of her neighbors weren’t as peculiar as the Rendells. The way the young people had glared at her had brought a prickling up her spine. The newspapers were full of scary stories about wild and hostile teenagers. She was left with an uneasy feeling and wished that she’d been more settled before meeting her neighbors.

Shanna settled Jiggs on the back porch with food and water. Then she yelled up the stairs, Come on, Holly. Let’s go.

Holly bounded down the steps at a wobbly speed that threatened to plunge her headfirst if she tripped on the worn carpet runner. Careful, Holly, Ariel admonished, floating along beside her, but, as usual, when the little girl didn’t want to do as Ariel said, she just pretended she wasn’t there. And that was that. Being a Guardian Angel certainly had its challenges, Ariel had decided more than once.

Shanna locked the front door and took Holly’s hand as they went down the flight of wooden stairs. Ariel swept out of the house beside them, but instead of floating into the back seat as she usually did, Ariel stopped in midair before she reached the car.

Something was wrong.

There was a dark energy around the car.

Evil.

All of Ariel’s angelic telepathic perceptions fired with a warning blast. Her powers as a Guardian Angel were not all-knowing, but she recognized a dark force surrounding the car.

What did it mean? What should she do?

Ariel had no vision of the future, because the capricious free will of mortals made human life impossible to predict. She had to deal with human activities as they occurred. If the situation warranted, she could materialize, either as herself or in another living form, and become visible to everyone or only one person. But what good would any of those options do in this situation when she couldn’t identify the threatening danger?

As Shanna started to drive away, Ariel swooped into the back seat. She was an unseen presence except to Holly, who turned around and giggled at her.