Letter to Reader
Title Page
Books by Joan Elliott Pickart
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
EPILOGUE
Teaser chapter
Copyright
He’d seen the shadow of pain in Janice’s eyes.
Someone, or maybe more than someone, had hurt her in some manner in the past.
There were walls...yes, protective walls around her that she’d no doubt carefully constructed, that were bigger and stronger than just a pair of unflattering glasses.
Janice wasn’t just keeping men at arm’s length; she had the world held at bay, not trusting or believing in anyone who crossed her path.
A surge of hot fury consumed him.
Who had done this to Janice? What exactly had she been subjected to, and when had it happened? He’d like to get his hands on whoever was responsible for hurting her.
And what was it going to take to get Janice to lower those walls of hers, to trust and believe in him?
An even more appropriate question was why it mattered so much that Janice knew she could trust him....
Dear Reader,
Summer is a time for backyard barbecues and fun family gatherings. But with all the running around you’ll be doing, don’t forget to make time for yourself. And there’s no better way to escape than with a Special Edition novel. Each month we offer six brand-new romances about people just like you—trying to find the perfect balance between life, career, family, romance....
To start, pick up Hunter’s Woman by bestselling author Lindsay McKenna. Continuing her riveting MORGAN’S MERCENARIES: THE HUNTERS series, she pairs a strongwilled THAT SPECIAL WOMAN! with the ruggedly handsome soldier who loved her once—and is determined to win her back!
Every woman longs to be noticed for her true beauty—and the heroine of Joan Elliott Pickart’s latest book, The Irresistible Mr. Sinclair, is no different; this novel features another wonderful hero in the author’s exciting cross-line miniseries with Silhouette Desire, THE BACHELOR BET. And for those hankering to return to the beloved Western land that Myrna Temte takes us to in her HEARTS OF WYOMING series, don’t miss The Gal Who Took the West.
And it’s family that brings the next three couples together—a baby on the way in Penny Parker’s Pregnant! by Stella Bagwell, the next installment in her TWINS ON THE DOORSTEP series that began in Silhouette Romance and will return there in January 2000; adorable twins in Robin Lee Hatcher’s Taking Care of the Twins; and a millionaire’s heir-to-be in talented new author Teresa Carpenter’s The Baby Due Date.
I hope you enjoy these six emotional must-reads written by women like you, for women like you!
Sincerely,
Karen Taylor Richman
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
JOAN ELLIOTT PICKART
THE IRRESISTIBLE MR. SINCLAIR
Books by Joan Elliott Pickart
Silhouette Special Edition
*Friends, Lovers...and
Babies! #1011
*The Father of Her Child #1025
†Texas Dawn #1100
†Texas Baby #1141
‡Wife Most Wanted #1160
The Rancher and the Amnesiac Bride #1204
ΔThe Irresistible Mr. Sinclair #1256
Silhouette Desire
*Angels and Elves #961
Apache Dream Bride #999
†Texas Moon #1051
†Texas Glory #1088
Just My Joe #1202
ΔTaming Tall, Dark Brandon #1223
*The Baby Bet
†Family Men
‡Montana Mavericks: Return to Whitehom
ΔThe Bachelor Bet
Previously published under the pseudonym Robin Elliott
Silhouette Special Edition
Rancher’s Heaven #909
Mother at Heart #968
Silhouette Intimate Moments
Gauntlet Run #206
Silhouette Desire
Call It Love #213
To Have It All #237
Picture of Love #261
Pennies in the Fountain #275
Dawn’s Gift #303
Brooke’s Chance #323
Betting Man #344
Silver Sands #362
Lost and Found #384
Out of the Cold #440
Sophie’s Attic #725
Not Just Another Perfect Wife #818
Haven’s Call #859
JOAN ELLIOTT PICKART
is the author of over seventy novels. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys watching football, knitting, reading, gardening and attending craft shows on the town square. Joan has three all-grown-up daughters and a fantastic little grandson. In September of 1995, Joan traveled to China to adopt her fourth daughter, Autumn. Joan and Autumn have settled into their cozy cottage in a charming small town in the high pine country of Arizona.
THE BACHELORS:
Brandon Hamilton:
Age 35. Hotel owner. 6 ft., nicely built. Black hair, dark
eyes. Principled, protective...powerfully attractive.
TAMING TALL, DARK BRANDON,
June 1999, Silhouette Desire
Taylor Sinclair:
Age 36. Accountant. 6 ft., trim. Light brown hair, brown
eyes. Self-confident, smart, stylish...sexy.
THE IRRESISTIBLE MR. SINCLAIR,
July 1999, Silhouette Special Edition
Ben Rizzoli:
Age 35. Doctor. 6 ft., rugged. Black hair, dark eyes.
Private, precise, proud...purely potent.
THE MOST ELIGIBLE M.D.,
August 1999, Silhouette Special Edition
These bachelor best friends have bet that marriage and family will never be part of their lives.
But they’ll learn never to bet against love....
Meet Brandon, Taylor and Ben in bestselling author Joan Elliott Pickart’s engaging new miniseries
Chapter One
The delicate hummingbird hovered in space, flitted away, then returned to dip its long, curved beak into the enticing red syrup in the feeder hanging from the edge of the patio roof.
Moments later the tiny bird was joined by another. They sipped the delicious offering, fluttered in perfect unison once around the plastic feeder, then zoomed off, flying close together.
Janice Jennings smiled in delight as she watched her morning visitors disappear from view. She hadn’t moved, had hardly breathed, while the pair of hummingbirds enjoyed their breakfast, not wishing to do anything to frighten them away.
“Have a safe and adventuresome day, my little friends,” Janice said softly.
She resumed the soothing task of brushing her freshly shampooed, wavy blond hair that fell to the middle of her back. Closing her eyes, she allowed her senses to take over.
She savored the warmth of the rising sun on her face as it peeked beneath the patio roof.
She could feel the strands of her hair beginning to dry, the waves rippling beneath the bristles of the brush.
The aroma of roses reached her from the blossoming bushes lining one side of th
e fenced yard, and she caught the faint, pungent scent of chlorine wafting from the sparkling blue water in the swimming pool.
The lingering taste of the cinnamon tea she’d had earlier tempted her to indulge in another cup.
She heard the chirping of happy birds, a dog barking in the distance, then the satisfied meow of a cat.
Janice sighed in contentment and opened her eyes, fluffing her hair with her free hand to be certain it was dry. Setting the brush on the round, glass-topped table next to her, she stretched her arms leisurely above her head, then dropped her hands into her lap.
This was her favorite time of day, she thought, not for the first time. It was definitely worth waking far earlier than was necessary in order to savor the sight of the breathtaking Arizona sunrise, drink her tea and watch the hummingbirds arrive for breakfast. She allowed the tranquility of the early morning to fill her to overflowing before heading off to what would be a busy day.
Janice glanced at the thin, gold watch on her wrist and frowned.
The minutes passed far too quickly during her morning ritual, she thought, getting to her feet.
She slipped the brush into the pocket of her mint-green, satin robe, picked up the china saucer holding the wafer-thin teacup and entered the house through the double doors that led to the backyard.
As she stepped into the large, sunny kitchen, she shifted her thoughts to what needed to be done when she arrived at her boutique, Sleeping Beauty.
A shipment of bath accessories had arrived just before closing time the evening before. The soaps, oils, crystals and powders would have to be unpacked and checked off against the bill.
All the products would need price stickers attached, then some would go in the storage room, the remainder on the waiting shelves in the store.
She also had to mark down the silk and satin teddies for a special sale that would begin tomorrow, plus give thought to a new display for the front window.
“Busy, busy, busy,” Janice said aloud as she washed and dried the cup and saucer by rote. She left the kitchen and headed toward the master bedroom.
The sprawling, four-bedroom house that Janice had purchased less than a year ago was a southwestern ranch style, white adobe with a whitegravel roof.
The rooms were large and airy, with archways leading to the living room, formal dining room and hallways. The master suite was on one side of the structure; the other three bedrooms, which were still empty of furnishings, were located on the other side.
Janice’s toes sank into the plush, pale salmoncolored carpeting as she walked down the hall.
She had decorated with a light hand. The living room bore only a floral-patterned sofa, oak end tables and lamps, a glass-topped, oak coffee table and two easy chairs, one white, the other mint-green and white-striped.
The effect was exactly what she’d strived to achieve. The room was welcoming, though spacious, with no overabundance of furniture to mar the simplistic beauty.
In a whimsical moment she’d added a cluster of woven Native American baskets that were grouped next to the hearth of the flagstone fireplace.
One basket was filled with dried desert flowers; another held potpourri that Janice had made from the petals of the roses in the backyard. A chubby little basket boasted an array of shiny marbles and another creation hugged skeins of varying shades of yarn.
She had yet to find any pictures or other decorations for the walls of the main part of the house. The only framed print that she owned so far was a pastel painting of two hummingbirds hovering over a splash of vibrant roses. It hung in a place of honor above her bed.
For her bedroom, Janice had chosen an oak, king-size bed with a matching dresser and chest of drawers. The bedspread was salmon and mint-green stripes with fluffy shams. A round table had a matching skirt that fell in soft folds to the floor, and an oak slipper rocker was placed next to the table.
A huge walk-in closet covered one entire wall and was fronted by gleaming mirrors.
As Janice crossed the bedroom, her attention was diverted by her reflection in the mirrored wall. She stopped and turned, her gaze sweeping over her image.
The satin robe clung to her full breasts and gently sloping hips. The rich material accentuated long legs and her slender five-foot-eight-inch frame. Her hair was a wild tumble of golden waves.
Janice tilted her head to one side, produced a phony smile that was reflected back at her, then in the next instant crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.
Her smile faded as she slid one panel of the closet door open to select what she would wear.
She was beautiful, she thought dryly. And that beauty had brought her nothing but misery for the majority of her twenty-eight years.
“Don’t start dwelling on that,” she muttered. “You’ll ruin what has started out to be a lovely day.”
Twenty minutes later, Janice left the house.
Her hair was pulled back into a severe figureeight chignon at the nape of her neck.
She wore a boxy, tan summer suit, the skirt a size too large, the jacket hanging loosely above it.
Sturdy, tan Oxfords were on her feet, and a pair of heavy, black-framed glasses were perched on her nose.
There were no prescription lenses in the glasses, nor was there one speck of makeup on her face.
Janice slid behind the wheel of a no-frills, white compact car and drove away from the house, the image she’d seen reflected in her bedroom mirror forgotten as she headed for Sleeping Beauty.
Taylor Sinclair carried a mug of coffee to the kitchen table and sat down across from his father, Clem.
As Clem executed the morning ritual of giving Scamp, his ten-year-old Irish setter, crusts of toast, Taylor scrutinized his father.
His dad looked old, he thought, frowning. There was a gray pallor to his skin that was disturbing, and an aura of weariness seemed to emanate from him.
“How are you, Dad?” Taylor said. Fine, never better, he answered himself. The question and aresponse were always the same.
“Fine, never better,” Clem said. “That’s it, Scamp. There’s no more toast.”
The dog flopped onto the floor and rested his head on his front paws as he stared up at Clem with sorrowful brown eyes.
“Dramatics won’t get you a thing, you old hound,” Clem said chuckling, then directed his attention to Taylor. “So! Fill me in. How was your trip up to Prescott?”
“I enjoyed it.” Taylor took a sip of the strong, black coffee. “This isn’t decaf. I thought the doctor said...”
“I can’t stomach that decaf stuff,” Clem interrupted, waving one hand dismissively in the air. “A man has to have a decent cup of coffee to get going in the morning.” He paused. “Prescott?”
“Okay. We won’t discuss your breaking the rules about the coffee,” Taylor said, shaking his head in defeat. “The five people who own businesses in Prescott and who dug in their heels and refused to get a new accountant when you left there all send you their best wishes.”
Clem smiled and nodded.
“Martha at the café,” Taylor went on, “said now that you’re retired she doesn’t want to hear that you’ve gotten fat and sassy from sitting on your rump.”
“Ah, those Prescott folks are good people. I’d like to see all of them. But because of my bum ticker, the doctor won’t allow me to even visit Prescott anymore, let alone make my home there. You wouldn’t think that a bit of altitude would have such an impact on a person.”
“A mile high isn’t a bit of altitude, Dad.”
Clem sighed. “Yes, I realize that. But even after two years, it’s still hard to get accustomed to living in this condo in the Phoenix heat. It’s so crowded in this damnable city, too. So fast, busy, and there’s so much crime.” He paused. “I can remember how your mother and I used to sit on the porch of that grand old house in Prescott where we raised you and talk about where we would travel when I retired.”
“Dad...”
“I know, I know. I’m feeling
sorry for myself and I should be counting my blessings. It’s just that...well, we lost your mother to cancer nearly fifteen years ago now, Taylor, and I seem to miss her more with every passing day. This retirement of mine isn’t remotely close to being what I hoped and dreamed it would be.”
“You’ve got to give it a fair chance, Dad,” Taylor said, leaning slightly toward him. “It’s only been a few weeks.
“I’m encountering a lot of differences here, too, since moving from San Francisco to take over your business. You need to keep an open mind about all the new activities you can try out. How about golf?”
“I’ve got better things to do than walk my legs off following a silly little white ball over a stretch of lawn that someone painted green.”
“Forget golf,” Taylor mumbled, then took another sip of coffee.
“What did you think of the job Brandon Hamilton did restoring Hamilton House?” Clem said.
“It’s fantastic, really sharp,” Taylor said. “Say, you didn’t tell me that Brandon got married. I met his wife, Andrea. She’s very pleasant, very pretty, and she and Brandon are obviously deeply in love.”
“I thought I told you that Brandon got hitched,” Clem said, frowning.
“No,” Taylor said quietly. “You didn’t.”
“My memory isn’t what it used to be, I guess.”