The Prodigal Lover

By Suzanne Barrett

One-time town hellion Rob Fallon fled Timberlake under a cloud of mystery nine years ago, and now he's resurfaced to turn his grandmother's old Victorian home into a fancy office complex.

But it won't happen under Mary Sweeney's watch. She and Rob have a history she'd rather forget, and because the charming old house is the only home she's ever known, she is desperate to save it from Rob's clutches. Besides, despite Rob's not-so-subtle pull on her emotions, how can she trust him with her heart when he is hell-bent on breaking it again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanne Barrett
• Release date: Feb 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215434581

Suzanne Barrett

Following a career in engineering, Suzanne has returned to her first love of writing and literature. Born in Southern California, Suzanne, along with her husband and a loving tuxedo cat, make their home in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Suzanne is also a jewelry designer, and her wirework has been shown at various arts and wine events throughout the county. When she’s not writing, Suzanne loves to garden.Her books have been published by Kensington Books and Turquoise Morning Press. Sierra Bride is Suzanne’s first published historical and is set near the eastern slope of the Sierras where she spent an enjoyable part of her childhood collecting rocks and riding horses. Late Harvest, a story about winemaking, was a two-time Golden Heart finalist for Romance Writers of America. In Love and War is set in Suzanne's favorite part of Ireland, County Cork and tells of the decades-old conflict between Irish Republicans and the Free State. Taming Rowan draws on Suzanne's career in engineering and is set in another favored location, Northern England.

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The Prodigal Lover

by

Suzanne Barrett

The Prodigal Lover

Copyright © 2012, 2023 Suzanne Barrett

Trade Paperback ISBN:

Digital ISBN:

Editor, Karen Block

Cover Art Design by Kim Jacobs

Electronic release, August 2012, February 2023

Trade Paperback release, August 2012

Revised and Re-edited

Suzanne Barrett Enterprises

137 Rustic Lane

Santa Cruz, CA 95060

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden, without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.

This edition is published by agreement with Barrett Enterprises, 137 Rustic Lane, Santa Cruz, CA 95060, Santa Cruz, CA 95060.

Dedication

For Carolyn who always inspires

Acknowledgements

Heartfelt thanks to super critique buddy Carolyn Woolston and editor extraordinaire Karen Block.

Reviews

A wonderful creative writing style…so easy to visualize the settings and characters with such raw intensity. I highly recommend IN LOVE AND WAR to anyone who loves a well-written and thought-provoking story, complex characters and powerful emotions.

~Carole, The Romance Reviews

TAMING ROWAN

A rich, strong romance to please any true contemporary romance fan.

~MSReads, Martha’s Reviews

A totally sexy read with charming characters that will keep you glued to every page…a great romance that you won’t want to put down. If I have my way, I’ll be reading much, much more from Ms. Barrett!

~Night Owl Reviews

AN IRISH ROGUE

Suzanne Barrett writes a book so good it stays with you long after you’ve finished the final page.

~Lynna Banning, Harlequin Historicals author

GIFT OF THE HEART

I fell in love with her writing style…have added Suzanne Barrett to my must-read authors list for future releases.

~Booked Up Reviews

The Prodigal Lover

1When one-time town hellion Rob Fallon returns to Timberlake after a nine-year absence, Mary Sweeney is dismayed to see him on the doorstep of her employer’s house. They have a history she’d rather forget. How can she trust him with her heart when he seems hell bent on breaking it once again?

Rob Fallon longs for the peacefulness of his hometown, but past mistakes threaten his future. Can he make amends and prove to Mary that he’s not the schemer she thinks he is?

Chapter One

Vincent Byers eyed Mary over the rim of his glasses. Rob Fallon’s back in town, he said.

Mary froze. Rob Fallon back in Timberlake? Her worst fear had come true. She allowed herself two steadying breaths before speaking. Are you sure, Vinnie? She hardly recognized her own voice.

The old man spat the toothpick he was chewing into the rose bed and brought his gaze on a level with hers. For a long moment he said nothing. With chubby fingers, he made pumping motions on the brake levers attached to his bicycle handlebars.

Why would I bother to tell ya, if’n I weren’t sure? It was him, all right. ’Cept he might be down on his luck some. That weren’t no fancy new truck he was drivin’.

Vinnie’s eyebrows drew together, furrowing a sun-splotched forehead. He raked a freckled hand through his thinning hair. I expect he’ll be payin’ Mrs. Fallon a call afore long. Rob used to be a real charmer. Be best if ya don’t let him sweet talk ya out of anything.

Mary paused, searching for a retort. Rob could charm anything and anybody if he set his mind to it. Including her.

Vinnie turned the wheel of his battered Raleigh toward the street, settled his ample posterior on the impossibly narrow seat, and headed down the driveway. Be seein’ ya, Mary, he hollered from the intersection.

Mary’s gaze followed him until he’d swerved onto Grove Street. She squeezed her hands into fists to control their shaking. Damn. How much did Vinnie know? Or was he just guessing. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

She bent to retrieve the flat-bottomed wicker basket at her feet and forced herself to walk normally through the side gate and along the gravel path to the back door.

Why would Rob come back now? The question nagged at her like a bad tooth.

In the kitchen she set the basket on the pine trestle table, lowered herself onto a kitchen chair, and stared at the freshly painted wall.

She never imagined Rob Fallon would return. He’d been gone nine years. With his father dead and his grandmother so frail, there was nothing here for him now. Certainly no money. But Rob wouldn’t know that. When he’d left, there’d been pots of it.

Was that it? Had he come back to get money from Mrs. Fallon?

She gazed through the window at her elderly employer on the back porch. Enveloped in a ruffled lavender wrapper, the old woman sat in the porch swing, a portable desk in her lap, her head bent over a snowy sheet of stationery. Her gold-trimmed Waterman scratched out a note in what Mary knew was a thin, spidery hand.

Ida Fallon wrote to everyone. Everyone except Rob. For both Mary and Mrs. Fallon, Rob had ceased to exist.

Until today.

Mary swallowed uncomfortably. Could she stop Rob from seeing his grandmother? Stop him from upsetting her? No, she could not. He was the woman’s only living relative. She was simply an employee.

She pushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes and rose to her feet. You thought you’d get over him, didn’t you? But the idea of seeing him again lent a whole new set of concerns.

A shiver traveled up her spine. Seeing him again would remind her of things best forgotten.

Face the truth, Mary. It’s Rob himself who disturbs you. He’d played the charming, honey-tongued deceiver with half the girls in Timberlake. But not her! Oh, she’d fallen for him, but she’d never been deceived. The truth of it was Rob had never even given her an interested glance. Except for that one night. She had lived on the memory of that one night for years. Rob had probably never thought of her again.

And why should he? She was plain as a dandelion in a field of poppies. Rob went for the pretty girls, like Valerie Rushmore, whose father owned Golden State Savings.

Mary had been quiet. Too quiet. She never knew what to say to girls who had families and friends. Nobody had ever paid her the slightest mind, even though she’d been a top student. She had been then, and was now, an outsider.

She propped her chin in one hand and tried to gather her thoughts.

Mrs. Fallon had every right to see her only grandson. After all, Rob was the Fallon heir.

Would he remember her? Would he recall that night in the garden? She banished the thought as quickly as it had formed.

She clattered the teakettle on the burner and began preparations for lunch. Relax, Mary Kate, she said aloud. Maybe he’s just passing through.

Her mind sifted through a myriad of other possibilities as she cut four even slices from a crusty French loaf for sandwiches. She plopped a spoonful of chicken salad on one.

Still, the fact remained. She didn’t want to see Rob. Not today, not ever.

You’re a coward, she muttered, slapping a lettuce leaf on the sandwich filling and topping it with a second bread slice.

Since when do you run from trouble?

Her throat closed over a golf ball-sized lump. She should have better control over her emotions. She was twenty-seven, now, not eighteen. She’d had a third of her lifetime to get over Rob Fallon.

Despite that, memories returned unbidden. She remembered his musky scent, laced with the Chivas Regal he pilfered from his father’s supply. No other man since Rob had made her feel so…alive. It was as if he’d peeled away the layers one at a time to expose her true self. It had taken years to forget, and now, he was back in Timberlake.

Mary glanced up at the wall clock. It was only mid-morning and too early for lunch. A quick glance to the porch revealed Mrs. Fallon dozing in the redwood swing, her head pressed against the green-striped cushion, her fingers still clutching the fountain pen.

She covered the sandwiches with plastic wrap, set the plate in the refrigerator, and made her way into the study. In just three weeks Fallon House would open as Timberlake’s first historic bed and breakfast. The county building inspector had made it clear, their opening would happen only if they added a new bathroom and modernized the existing one, but for the last two weeks, she and Marvin Beamish, the town’s only licensed plumbing contractor had played phone tag.

She picked up the phone and punched in Marvin’s number. She’d think about Rob Fallon later. The out-of-date bathrooms at Fallon House could not wait.

Nancy, is Marvin there?

Nah, the bookkeeper drawled in her nasal voice. He’s down to his brother’s. He’ll be back later. Anything in particular you wanted?

It’s about the bathroom remodel. I need him to start the job this week.

A long silence hung over the line, broken by a loud popping sound. Finally, Nancy came back on. Uh, Marv’s got a big job on some condos over at Clear Lake. I don’t think he’s gonna have time for your bathrooms, hon. She popped her gum in Mary’s ear.

Mary’s fingers tightened around the phone cord. Not have time? Marv had promised to come the minute she called.

If the bathrooms weren’t finished, the county would block them from opening. All their advertising would be wasted, not to mention the loss of income. She should have scheduled the work earlier. Or borrowed the money. Done something.

She paused mid-thought. Now was not the time to panic.

She spoke evenly into the mouthpiece. Just have Marv give me a call, okay?

Sure, hon.

Mary set the receiver in its cradle. Nancy liked to chatter, but it was Marvin she had to talk to. And fast.

She trekked down the long hall to her office, her hands fisted. Once the music room, the office now housed a tall oak file cabinet, a refectory table on which sat her laptop, several Sunset how-to books, and a dozen scribbled pages scattered helter-skelter. Her linen catalogs were tumbled on top of each other on the Persian rug.

What in the world! Mary’s jaw tightened. The disarray bore the earmarks of Zeke, Mrs. Fallon’s particularly nasty cat. She scanned the room in search of the culprit.

The sleek black form was casually draped over the back of a club chair by the window. Eyes half closed, tail twitching ever so slightly, he watched a plump robin on the grass outside.

Bad cat, she admonished, giving the unconcerned lounger a stern look. It had been love at first sight for Zeke and Mrs. Fallon. The feline had immediately taken over the house and ingratiated himself into the old woman’s bed each night. Mary, on the other hand, found herself tolerated only because she doled out his dinner.

Right now she didn’t have time to straighten the mess. The entire house gleamed with paint and polish, ready for their grand opening just three weeks away. If Marvin was busy, she’d have to find another plumbing contractor quick. Everything was ready except those two bathrooms.

A knock resonated against the front door. Mary sucked in a deep breath, and glanced at the clock on the table. Just past noon. Maybe Marv had finished early and come over after all.

She stepped into the hall and made her way toward the foyer, breathing a relieved sigh. If he could start on the bathrooms today, Fallon House would open for business on schedule.

At the doorway, she unlocked the brass bolt and opened the beveled glass a fraction.

Rob Fallon’s lean form blocked the sunlight.

Chapter Two

Oh no! Not so soon.

Rob’s presence dwarfed the solid door with its white gingerbread trim.

She stared into features as cold as chiseled marble. His once-perfect profile had changed. Deep furrows ran from nose to mouth. That prominent bridge on his nose had not been there before, and his thick, dark hair once cut short to his head now curled over the collar of his shirt.

Only his eyes looked the same—deep, dark blue with lashes longer and thicker than any man ought to have. Intense, mesmerizing eyes a girl could lose herself in. They caught hers and registered surprise.

Mary shook her head to clear her thoughts. Why had he come back?

Rob propped his lean body against the doorframe with his forearm and stared at her through half-closed lids. The lanky male, clad in black from tooled leather boots to Levis and a dusky chambray shirt, studied her with quiet concentration.

Whatever had happened to Rob Fallon had not diminished his appeal. Far from it.

Damn! She did not want to find him attractive. And she didn’t want him here.

After a prolonged moment, one corner of his mouth lifted. Well, well. If it isn’t Mary Kate Sweeney? Somehow, I figured you’d have moved on by now.

Time had deepened his voice to a velvety baritone. She took a shaky breath. Hello, Rob. Her fingers tightened around the doorknob. What are you doing here?

A deep rumble began in his chest and ended in a chuckle. Such a fine welcome for the weary wanderer. The smile he gave her stopped short of his eyes. You’re asking me what I’m doing at my own home?

Mary drew in another breath. Her heart thumped so violently she was certain he could hear it. She planted both feet firmly on the floor. She was not going to let him see how he affected her.

It’s not your home, she answered. Not anymore. You gave it up years ago, when you walked out. I bet you never even looked back.

His cobalt eyes narrowed. Still prickly as a porcupine. A perplexed expression flickered across his face. Who said I didn’t look back?

It’s been nine years. You could have written to your grandmother at least once. A lot has happened.

A lot has happened to me too. But I’m back now.

For how long?

However long it takes.

What did that mean?

If you’ve come to see your grandmother, she’s sleeping, Mary said quickly. I won’t disturb her.

One black eyebrow rose. Then she must have a double out back in the porch swing.

Mary froze. How do you know that?

The side gate was unlocked. I peeked around the corner of the house. A shadow swam in the depths of his eyes. It’s still my family’s home. I have the right to be on the property, you know.

Her mouth went dry. She stepped out onto the porch between him and the door. As far as she was concerned, anyone who’d abandoned his family, who hadn’t cared enough to keep in touch, no longer had rights.

Rob, you’re not welcome here.

Mary, dear, Mrs. Fallon’s voice sounded in the hallway behind her. Who is that at the door?

The elderly woman materialized beside her. She squinted at the dark form and gasped. Rob? Robbie? Dear heaven, is it really you?

Rob stared at the frail old woman. It’s me, Gran.

He pushed past Mary as if she were a feather, then swung the door wide on its hinges and stepped into the entry. He enveloped his grandmother in his arms.

Robbie, Robbie, Mrs. Fallon crooned, her voice tremulous. I thought you were never coming back. The old woman choked back sobs.

Mary watched until she couldn’t stand it any longer. If Rob Fallon broke his grandmother’s heart all over again, she couldn’t bear to see it.

There, there, Gran. I’m here now, Rob said, his voice gravelly.

Mary felt the hot sting of her own tears. Lowering her head, she squeezed her lids shut. Mrs. Fallon had spent years not knowing what had become of her grandson. Mary blinked twice to clear her vision.

Over the old woman’s shoulder, she glimpsed Rob’s face. An enigmatic smile spread over his handsome features.

Mary gritted her teeth. Rob hadn’t changed. He could still charm the warts off a frog.

She pulled herself up to her full five-feet-four, stepped around the Manchester table in the room’s center, and faced him. It’s time for your grandmother’s lunch. After that, she takes a nap.

Mrs. Fallon turned puzzled eyes on Mary. What’s come over you, Mary? Surely we can’t expect Robbie to leave now? We have much to talk about and—Why, he must be starving. Let’s invite him to join us.

Mary drew her lips into a thin line. Of course the old woman wanted to see her grandson, wanted to talk to him after all these years. Still, something told her Rob spelled trouble. She could feel it. Just having him in the room made her uneasy.

I’m sure he has other plans.

Nonsense, Mary. You can see by the look of him he needs nourishment.

Rob didn’t look as though he needed a thing. He was brawny, obviously well fed, and way too good looking.

Mrs. Fallon turned to her grandson. Mary makes the best curried chicken sandwiches. You’ll surely stay, won’t you?

Rob sent Mary a sly look. I never could resist Mary’s… He took his time perusing her jeans and cotton blouse …sandwiches. His gaze moved slowly up to her face. But I wouldn’t want to put you out.

Oh, yes you would. That’s exactly what you want.

She edged away from him toward the kitchen. Under his scrutiny, she felt as if he could read her thoughts.

Come into the sitting room and talk to me while Mary fixes lunch, the old woman coaxed. She clutched Rob’s forearm in one bird-like hand and steered him down the hall.

Mary choked back laughter. The sight of tiny, frail Mrs. Fallon propelling the solid chunk of male humanity that was her grandson using only her thumb and forefinger made her lips twitch.

Back in the kitchen, Mary dragged the rounded loaf out of the breadbox and cut two more slices.

What was Rob doing here? He couldn’t just show up out of the blue, as if he had never left.

She spread mayonnaise and a chunky mound of filling on the slices. She didn’t trust him. He wanted something. She didn’t want to deprive Mrs. Fallon of the pleasure of seeing her grandson, but somehow she had to protect the old woman. And she had to protect herself.

The first part would be easy, but the second might be a different story. Rob had no idea of the effect he had on her. She’d always hidden her feelings from him. Except for that one night.

Had he come back to stay? Lord, she hoped not. Her hands trembled, and she pressed them against the counter.

Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen table sported fresh place mats and cloth napkins in an Indian print. A green hand-thrown ceramic plate crafted by their neighbor held halved sandwiches, and iced tea filled a sparkling crystal pitcher.

Rob gazed slowly about the room while holding out a chair for his grandmother. A faint smile curved his lips. He slid his grandmother’s chair up to the table and pulled out another for Mary.

Mary stiffened and stepped back, jarring the tea pitcher a fraction of an inch. Why in the world was she so nervous? Rob Fallon’s appraisal did not matter in the least.

I usually sit over here, she said, taking the chair opposite where he was standing.

Suit yourself. Rob settled in the chair and scooted it up to the table.

He reached for a sandwich and took an enormous bite. Gran was right. These are first rate. He bit into the bread a second time. I don’t remember you fixing anything like this before.

Mary cooks wonderfully, Mrs. Fallon interjected.

Rob’s heavy-lidded gaze skimmed Mary’s face. He grinned. Another talent kept under wraps. Where did you learn to cook?

Mary kept her focus on Rob. Here.

Across the table, Rob chewed thoughtfully. Oh, yeah, I remember. You came here a regular little Mary Poppins, determined to manage everything.

Her hands curled into fists in her lap.

Brow furrowed, Mrs. Fallon set down her glass. Robbie, that’s not fair! Mary needed a job after her mother died, and I needed help. She sighed, folded and refolded her napkin. Why, she’s even thought of a way to convert this house to a bed and breakfast.

Mary slid her gaze from Mrs. Fallon to Rob. His face took on an oddly shuttered expression, and he gave a quiet laugh. So that’s your scheme. I wondered, he murmured, his perusal a little too direct for her comfort. "May I ask why you decided to turn my family’s home into a hotel?"

Money. Mary snapped, her eyes on Rob’s face. For an interminable moment their gazes held. There was an untamed element of awareness