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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  PO Box 2206

  Stow OH 44224

  Forever Again

  Copyright © 2006 by Shannon Stacey

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  ISBN: 1-59998-001-0

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: January 2006

  Forever Again

  By Shannon Stacey

  Dedication

  For Stuart, who is the most amazing, dedicated and loving father to our children; and for Angela, whose judgment and eye for the story are a writer’s best friend.

  Chapter One

  Gena heard the crunch of tires on gravel and her gaze flew to the mantel clock. She wasn’t expecting anybody else—it had to be them. Oh my God, they’re early.

  After dropping the basket of fresh fruit next to the pastries on the sideboard, she reached up to pat the braid restraining her unruly mass of auburn hair. It would have to do because there was no time to brush it out now.

  On her way to the front door, she straightened the vase of lilac boughs and laid a pen across the open guest registry book. Butterflies tickled her stomach as she thought about how much this weekend meant to her and her daughter.

  Kristen Sinclair, the top news anchor in Boston and something of a New England celebrity, was getting married and she was considering Gena’s bed-and-breakfast for her reception and honeymoon. That not only meant a lot of money, but some good publicity for the Riverside Inn, as well. With Mia’s growing collection of college catalogs staring her in the face, every little bit helped.

  So she and her daughter had spent the last ten days living and breathing according to their lists. To-do lists, to-buy lists. To-clean lists. Everything was perfect for Sinclair—party of two.

  By the time Gena stepped out onto the porch, Kristen Sinclair was standing in front of a silver Mercedes giving instructions to a person unseen behind the open trunk lid.

  Gena recognized her immediately from television. She was tall, lithe, and had a flawlessly coiffed helmet of bottle-blonde hair. The clothes, which hung perfectly on her body, probably cost more than Gena’s entire wardrobe. She ignored the quick pang of envy and smiled.

  “Ms. Sinclair, welcome to the Riverside Inn,” she said, as she walked to the car and extended her hand. “I’m Gena Taylor.”

  They heard a muttered curse and what sounded like a head banging against the bottom of the trunk lid.

  Ms. Sinclair rolled her eyes in the direction of the car and shook Gena’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. We left early to beat the traffic, and there really wasn‘t any. And if he ever gets his head out of the trunk, I’ll introduce you to my fiancé, Travis Ryan.”

  “Travis Ryan?” Gena repeated as the earth seemed to shift beneath her feet. It can’t be him. It’s just a coincidence.

  “He’s from here originally,” Kristen said over her shoulder, as she walked toward the house.

  That was no coincidence. It’s really him. My ex-husband wants to have his reception at my bed-and-breakfast? And his honeymoon?

  Gena suddenly felt sick. She remembered feeling that way when she was staring at the pregnancy test, unable to believe it was positive. And then again during the nightmare of bitter, accusatory phone calls between their parents that had ended with a stunned boy and an emotionally wrecked girl standing in front of a Justice of the Peace, repeating vows they didn’t mean in toneless voices. And she had felt that way again when he walked out on her, convinced she was lying.

  He thought she had lied about having his baby. So what am I going to do about Mia?

  * * * * *

  Travis Ryan kept his head hidden in the trunk, taking deep, ragged breaths to combat his shock and anger.

  Gena Taylor. He swore again while rubbing the top of his head. It had taken fifteen years to put her far enough behind him to consider marriage again, and now here he was—right on her doorstep. But there was no way in hell she was hosting his reception.

  This entire trip had been a big mistake. He had told Kristen again and again he didn’t want to get married in New Hampshire. They lived in Boston and their friends lived in Boston. Why not marry there and honeymoon in the Caribbean?

  Because it’s romantic, she'd said. Weddings should take place in the bride’s hometown. She was a military brat and didn’t have a place to call home, so his would have to do.

  What she really meant was that it was a better story. More interesting, more newsworthy. She was one of the best at taking an everyday event and making it headline news. All she needed was the angle.

  Well, she’s got one now, he thought.

  He’d convinced himself that Gena Taylor would be long gone, off to make her life somewhere else. She wouldn’t stick around after what she’d done, not in this gossip haven of a town. But this was just his luck. Of all the inns in the state, Kristen had to find the one owned by his lying, scheming ex-wife.

  She hardly even qualified as an ex-wife. They had only been married for thirteen days. Thirteen days that he had wandered through in a fog, shell-shocked. Gone were the dreams of playing football at Boston College. Gone were thoughts of frat parties, cheerleaders, and making the big bucks.

  He’d been stuck with a girl he didn’t really know—with a baby on the way—and he thought his life was over. Until he spotted the panties stained with blood in the laundry basket.

  She had actually managed to trap him into marriage by faking a pregnancy.

  Not for long. He had tossed the panties and his twenty dollar wedding band on the table in front of her and walked out the door. He didn’t even pack his things. The divorce was handled by his parents’ lawyer and he never saw her again.

  Until now. The temptation to get back in his car and go home was strong. But how would he explain this to Kristen? She worked hard, and she had spent the last week looking forward to relaxing and having nothing to do but sit on the porch and think about their wedding. This would definitely ruin her weekend.

  Fifteen years was a long time. She might not even remember me, he tried to convince himself. But that wasn’t likely. A woman probably didn’t forget the man whose life she almost destroyed.

  * * * * *

  Gena willed the violent trembling to stop and tried not to think about Mia. She was aware of Kristen admiring the porch of the two hundred-year-old farmhouse, with the handcrafted swing and the fragrant climbing roses, but her focus was entirely on the unseen man behind the car.

  For the first few years of Mia’s life she had been afraid he would find out about their baby. She thought he would come back and want to see his daughter—maybe even take her away. His parents had moved to Boston with him, but she thought they would stay in touch with old friends. She stayed close to home during her pregnancy, but there were a lot of people in town who knew that Mia was Travis’s daughter. But as the years passed and she never heard from him, she started to relax.

  Now he was back. But she wasn’t a kid anymore. She could handle this. This was business. And it was business she couldn’t turn away. There was no possible way the Sinclair-Ryan reception could be held at the Riversid
e Inn now, but Kristen could still enjoy a relaxing weekend at a B-&-B she might love enough to recommend to her friends.

  If Travis just plays along. Gena was betting he hadn’t told his fiancée about her. They wouldn’t have gotten their license yet, so she might not even know she was becoming wife number two. And Gena wasn’t about to tell her.

  Hopefully Travis wouldn’t either. She would welcome him and put the ball firmly in his court. He could either take his fiancée and get back in the car, or stay and make the best of it.

  One foot in front of the other, she told herself as she moved around the Mercedes. I can…

  The thought died the instant she laid eyes on Travis Ryan. For a second she was back in high school again and her stomach tightened just as it always had when she was brave enough to cast a glance in his direction.

  Time had etched its passing on his face, but the character lines framing his eyes and mouth only added to his rugged charm. His still impossibly thick golden hair showed no signs of receding, and his eyes were exactly the same brilliant blue she saw every time she looked at Mia. The years had given him a chiseled, confident look that was almost devastating.

  At that moment she was thankful for the trunk lid hiding them from Kristen’s view. She didn’t need a mirror to know that she looked pale and nervous. Far more nervous than having an important guest like Kristen Sinclair merited.

  Gena had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Welcome to the Riverside Inn, Mr. Ryan.”

  He didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity, and she actually wondered if he was just going to ignore her.

  It wouldn’t be the first time Travis Ryan had simply pretended she didn’t exist. He had done that from kindergarten right up until six weeks before they graduated. She had to admit her life had been a lot less complicated before that night.

  “Don’t ruin Kristen’s weekend,” he finally said in a voice that had deepened over the years.

  Careful to keep her tone neutral, Gena said, “There’s no reason for that to happen. I have minimal interaction with my guests as a rule.”

  “I hope you realize there’s no way in hell I’m having my reception here now.”

  “I didn’t think you would. And I don’t really want to throw a party celebrating your second marriage anyway.”

  Travis leaned forward, his face a mask of tightly controlled anger. “Kristen might legally be my second wife, but she’s the first woman I’ve ever wanted to marry.”

  That hurt. A lot. She hadn’t forced him to marry her. That had been their parents' fault. Well, her parents mostly, but the wedding wouldn’t have taken place if the Ryans hadn’t thought it was the right thing to do. “I didn’t want—”

  “Travis? Ms. Taylor?” Gena could hear the crunch of Kristen’s heels on the gravel. “Is there a problem?”

  Gena didn’t look away from Travis’s stony gaze until he abruptly turned and began pulling designer suitcases out of the trunk. She turned and smiled convincingly—she hoped—at his fiancée. “No problem. I was just admiring your luggage, Ms. Sinclair.”

  The woman waved a dismissive hand at the expensive pieces. “Thank you. And please call me Kristen.”

  “Only if you’ll call me Gena. Would you like some coffee and pastries before I show you around? I always set out a late afternoon snack for my guests.”

  “That sounds lovely. Not too much, though, or my personal trainer will shoot me.”

  A personal trainer? No doubt she had a personal shopper, too. Plus a personal assistant, and who knew what else? A personal masseuse, a personal back scrubber?

  That would be Travis’s job. The pang of jealousy she felt surprised Gena, and she didn’t like the feeling.

  She definitely needed to date more often. There was no way she would let herself lust after the man who had shattered her heart. Even if he wasn’t her ex-husband, being the unknowing father of her child was an insurmountable complication. She had to grab the railing when she tripped on the porch steps. Think about Mia later, she told herself firmly when she nearly tripped on the porch steps.

  Gena led them through the formal parlor where they deposited the luggage at the foot of the front stairs, and into the dining room. After brief introductions to the other guests, Gena excused herself. “Make yourselves at home, and feel free to look around. I have to see to…something, and then I can take you to your suite.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Gena walked into the kitchen, and through the door marked PRIVATE and into their personal living area. It had barely closed behind her before she leaned back against the wood.

  This can’t be happening. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to cool the searing heat in her cheeks. How can I spend an entire weekend with him?

  Tears clouded her vision and Gena sank to the floor, resting her forehead on her knees. How many times had she cried in those days after she let him walk out? She could have made him stay, could have explained, but she let him go. She let him walk out the door, knowing she and her baby would probably never see him again.

  But there he was, sitting in her dining room. The realization was like an avalanche, rumbling over her body and suffocating her with uncertainty. Seeing Travis with his fiancée made her feel that not-quite-good-enough feeling again—she was always second best. No doubt Kristen Sinclair had been a cheerleader, like the girl Travis had been dating in high school.

  Gena had been in love with him since the day he let the classroom door swing shut on her that first day of kindergarten, awed by his good looks and his smile even then. The crush lasted through their elementary and middle school years, right into high school, but he had never seen her. She was frumpy, even pudgy at times, and always in pigtails. As they grew older there were pimples and bad haircuts—then the braces and her tendency to keep her nose in books. She grew accustomed to being invisible.

  But he had noticed her once. Just once, and she had given herself to him without hesitation. He was a little bit drunk and she didn’t ask him if he had a condom. She didn’t want to spoil the moment she had been waiting for all her life. Six weeks later she took a pregnancy test.

  They were only married for thirteen days when he walked out the door and she never saw him again. She had Mia, raised her with the help of her parents, and got her degree in small business management. It was another five years of constant hard work before she could get the loans she needed to open the Inn. But she had done it all—and done a good job—without a man in her life.

  Sure, she’d dated. Over the years relationships had come and gone—some casual and one serious—almost to the altar. Working toward her professional goals and being a single mother had occupied most of her time. But she’d still had her heart broken a few times, and maybe broken one or two herself.

  No, she wasn’t the same person she’d been when Travis Ryan walked out on her. Now she was a mother, a businesswoman, and stronger than anybody had ever given her credit for. She could handle her ex-husband—Travis Ryan.

  At least until their daughter got home. Mia was babysitting overnight for the Carter family and she wouldn’t be home until at least noon tomorrow. That didn’t give her much time, but she would have to think of some way to deal with the past exploding into their lives explain this before then.

  * * * * *

  Travis toyed with a blueberry muffin, not really hungry, while Kristen explored the dining room and admired the assorted antique china. He tried to smile and nod in the right places, but his mind was somewhere else.

  With his very much changed ex-wife to be exact. It was hard to believe she was the same Gena Taylor he was once married to. If he hadn’t heard her name and her voice before seeing her, he never would have recognized her.

  Taylor… Not Ryan and not something else. Why hadn’t she remarried? In fifteen years she hadn’t been able to find another unsuspecting fool to trick into marriage?

  Or maybe she had. A lot of married woman kept their maiden names, or she could have reverted to i
t after a divorce. She obviously had the first time.

  The years had been very kind to her—there was no doubt about that. Fifteen years ago she had been homely and shy, with no real future prospects. No doubt faking a pregnancy to catch herself a husband who did have prospects had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  She’d have no trouble now. His ex-wife would turn any man’s head. She had thinned out a little over the years, and while she wasn’t nearly as lean as Kristen, her generous curves gave her a voluptuous appeal. Her simple white blouse and cotton twill pants suited her, showing off hips slightly widened by approaching middle age. Gone were the sloppy ponytails, replaced by a thick, glossy braid. Without the braces and teenaged acne, her face had matured into that of a beautiful woman.

  Where Kristen was fussy and high-maintenance, Gena had a comfortable, natural air about her that appealed to him. He had never cared for the amount of makeup Kristen wore, and he noticed it more in contrast to Gena’s clear, clean skin.

  He wanted to see her hair loose, floating around her shoulders. He imagined slipping the elastic from the bottom of the braid and working his fingers through the woven tresses to free them. The hint of fire in her hair accented the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes, and…

  Horrified by the direction his thoughts were taking, Travis forced himself to give his full attention to the hand painted creamer Kristen was holding under his nose.

  “It’s nice,” he said, trying to sound sincere.

  “I wonder where she found it.”

  “Probably at a yard sale,” Travis said, instantly regretting the snide remark. If Kristen even suspected he disliked their hostess, she would demand an explanation. He simply wasn’t ready to give her one. He wouldn’t even know where to begin.

  It certainly wasn’t a time in his life he was extremely proud of. He had been dating Marcy Bishop for two years and she had never let him get beyond first base. He was frustrated and a little drunk when he saw Gena Taylor walking home from her job at the Dairy Queen.