Her Fresh Start Family Read online

  A new life. A new love.

  But will secrets tear them apart?

  Struggling with a tragic loss, widow Nina Johnson seeks a fresh start in a Southern small town. Then she meets handsome veteran Bret Sinclair and his sweet daughters. Bret’s no stranger to loss, and his companionship is the solace Nina’s been searching for. Until a dark secret from Bret’s past is exposed, threatening to break these Mississippi Hearts.

  “I have some people I’d like you to meet.”

  The sight of Bret’s two girls... The memories Nina kept locked away came surging back. She gritted her teeth and tried to look pleasant.

  The girls said hello, big smiles on their sweet faces.

  Bret’s expression faded from that of a proud parent to deep concern. She should explain, but her heart was being shredded.

  “Girls, why don’t you go back to my office? I’ll be there in a minute.”

  The minute the girls were gone, she wrapped her arms around her waist.

  “Are you all right? I never considered that you might not like children.”

  “I like children.”

  “Really? You went pale as a ghost.”

  “I was surprised, that’s all.” Tears filled her eyes.

  “Nina. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.” The sob escaped her throat.

  Bret steered her toward the sofa and sat beside her. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

  She stared into Bret’s eyes. He was safe. Trustworthy. Why was it so hard to say the words?

  “I had a daughter. She died. Five years ago today.”

  Lorraine Beatty was raised in Columbus, Ohio, but now calls Mississippi home. She and her husband, Joe, have two sons and five grandchildren. Lorraine started writing in junior high and is a member of RWA and ACFW, and is a charter member and past president of Magnolia State Romance Writers. In her spare time she likes to work in her garden, travel and spend time with her family.

  Books by Lorraine Beatty

  Love Inspired

  Mississippi Hearts

  Her Fresh Start Family

  Home to Dover

  Protecting the Widow’s Heart

  His Small-Town Family

  Bachelor to the Rescue

  Her Christmas Hero

  The Nanny’s Secret Child

  A Mom for Christmas

  The Lawman’s Secret Son

  Her Handyman Hero

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  HER FRESH

  START FAMILY

  Lorraine Beatty

  This is the day which the Lord hath made;

  we will rejoice and be glad in it.

  —Psalms 118:24

  To my mother-in-law, Mary Beatty. You are one of my greatest blessings.

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from The Firefighter's Twins by Heidi McCahan

  Chapter One

  A warm morning breeze blew a strand of Nina Johnson’s hair across her eyes. She pulled it away, her gaze riveted on the building in front of her. The two-story brick structure had an abundance of windows and a recessed entry that allowed for shade to cover the entrance. It looked fairly new. Had the cabdriver made a mistake and left her at the wrong place? She pulled her phone from her purse and brought up the address. It read 557 E. Warren Avenue. Her spirits sagged. She should never have agreed to come here. But then, where else would she have gone? Kathryn Harvey was her closest friend. She’d been there for her since college, through the marriage and the dark days afterward. When she’d asked her to come down to Hastings, Mississippi, and take over her psychology practice while she and her husband took advantage of a job in Spain for the next few months, she hadn’t been able to refuse. Her position as a corporate psychologist at Duncan and Stone had been eliminated. The call from her friend had been a blessing. Until now.

  “Can I help you?”

  Nina started at the sound of the deep voice close beside her. She stepped away, glancing at the man. Her gaze lifted until she found his startling green eyes lit with a smile. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “You looked lost.”

  The man was inquisitive for a stranger. She moved away a little more. “No, just surprised. The building is so small.” He frowned, and she realized she might have insulted him, so she hastened to explain. “My previous job was in a high-rise. Twentieth floor.”

  “Ah. Not too many high-rises around here. But I assure you, this building is big enough to house seven thriving businesses. I should know. One of them is mine.” He held out his hand. “I’m Bret Sinclair.”

  With her hands full of her purse, briefcase and a satchel filled with books she thought she might need, she could only stare back at him. She wasn’t used to strange men boldly introducing themselves—and shaking hands was even pushier. He didn’t seem to be the least bit put off by her nonresponse.

  “Sorry. Let me help you.”

  He took the briefcase from her grasp before she could react.

  She had little choice but to introduce herself. “I’m Nina Johnson.” His large hand swallowed hers, wrapping around it with a solid strength that gave her an uneasy feeling, yet she was strangely reluctant to pull her hand away. The stress of the trip down here to Hastings must be getting to her.

  A big smile spread across the man’s olive-toned skin, revealing a row of straight white teeth and an angled jawline that was very attractive.

  “Kitty’s friend. She told us you’d be filling in for her. Nice to meet you. Let me show you to your office.”

  She retrieved her briefcase from the man. “Kitty?”

  “Yeah, we all call her that. Kathryn didn’t suit her personality.”

  Nina mulled that over as she entered through the door the man held open. When had her friend taken the nickname? But then, she’d allowed their friendship to fade over the last few years, and she’d admittedly been surprised when Kathryn had asked her to take over her practice for a few months. Nina had closed her private practice years ago and gone into corporate psychology. She’d loved it. The job allowed her to help others, while not getting personally involved with patients or becoming emotionally attached. Things she’d vowed to avoid.

  The man, Mr. Sinclair, walked briskly toward the end of the hall, and she had a hard time keeping up with him in her four-inch heels. The floor was slippery, too. He was chattering about something, but all she could think of was getting to Kathryn’s office and closing the door.

  “Anita owns the Tranquility Spa. She does it all from hair and nails to facials and those crazy body wraps. You’ll have a full-service business when you want to get dolled up.”

  Was he suggesting she needed a makeover? She gritted her teeth and tried to keep up. Was he deliberately trying to be offensive? She’d been to a spa once and found it anything but relaxing. She glanced at her host and found him still smiling. His unusual green eyes held a twinkle as he looked down at her. She averted her gaze. Something about the man made her uncomfortable. No doubt his overly solicitous attitude was the source. This Sinclair guy was far too friendly for her liking.

  He pushed the button beside the elevator door and waited while she entered first.

  “Your office is on the second floor.”

  He continued his diatribe, throwing out names and businesses as if she were interested in the other occupants of the building. Stealing a glance at her host, she sorted through her people cubbies to find a good slot in which to file him away. On the surface, he seemed nice enough, but he was trying too hard to be helpful, and that usually meant he’d attempt to insert himself into her life. That was the last thing she wanted. When the elevator opened, she stepped out briskly, hoping he’d point out the right door and then go away.

  “I’m right across the hall.”

  Nina pulled her attention back to the man. “Excuse me?”

  His grin deepened, exposing a dimple on the right side of his mouth that she’d failed to notice before. It was a nice dimple.

  “At the moment, the only businesses on the second floor are yours, mine and David Ellis’s, the photographer. The last office is empty, and back there is the break room.” He pointed to the door to his right. “That’s my company. Phase II. We help veterans with training and job placement, and whatever else they might need when they’re ready to reenter the workforce.”

  Nina’s heart lurched. “Soldiers?”

  “As a matter of fact, we’re organizing our annual Military Appreciation Day event, and we’re always looking for volunteers. We’d welcome your help.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You have something against soldiers?”

  He a sked the question with a teasing tone in his voice. She cast a stern look in his direction. “Only when they fail to do their job and people die.” Clearly caught off guard, he frowned and rubbed his forehead. The smile left his face, calling attention to the sharp angle of his jaw and his high cheekbones. The clear green eyes had darkened to a dull forest color.

  “Aren’t there dozens of organizations already helping veterans?”

  “There are, but most of them are located two hours away, up in the state capital, and the waiting lists for those organizations are long. The vets need services here, where they live.”

  His sincerity and passion caught her off guard, leaving her without a comeback. Thankfully she spotted the plaque on the wall beside the door on the left. Kathryn Harvey Psychologist. Nina fished out the key Kathryn had sent, but before she could use it, Bret opened the door and smiled down at her. “You have a key to this office?”

  “To all of them. I own the building. Which makes me the landlord. But don’t worry. I don’t enter anyone’s business unless it’s an emergency.”

  “Is that what this is?”

  He chuckled as if she’d said something funny. The rich, throaty sound sent a quick ping along her nerves.

  “No. I’m the welcome committee. I promised Kitty I’d help you settle in. When you get a free moment, I’ll introduce you to the others. We all try and look out for one another.”

  Nina shrank in on herself. She needed to escape his overly helpful greeting right now. “That’s very kind, but I don’t need any help, and I doubt I’ll have much time for socializing.”

  She squared her shoulders and marched into the small reception area, striving for an air of supreme confidence that would deter any further help. Instead she caught her heel in the overly plush carpet and tripped, quickly regaining her balance. Pulse racing, she placed her belongings on the desk and turned to face him. “Thank you for your help. I can take it from here.”

  His hand was outstretched as if he’d intended to steady her, which he could easily have done, given his broad, well-developed shoulders and forearms. The black polo shirt with the Phase II logo on the breast pocket, and the faded jeans he wore, made it obvious that he enjoyed working out.

  “Those shoes are dangerous. You could hurt yourself.”

  Incredible. First a makeover, and now her shoes? Criticism was the last thing she needed at this moment. Her nerves were frayed. She attempted a firm expression. “Mr. Sinclair, I have a lot of studying to do before I see my first patient. I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t have time to visit.”

  He stared at her for a moment, his green eyes probing, making her regret her retort. She reminded herself she was here to fill in for Kathryn and reacquaint herself with working one-on-one with private patients. Not to get chummy with the natives.

  “Okay then. If you need anything or have any questions, I’m right over there.” He gestured to the office across the hall.

  She grasped the doorknob and met his gaze. The puzzlement in his eyes turned the green to a dull moss color. Very curious.

  “Sure thing.” He started out the door, but stopped it from closing with his hand. She couldn’t help but notice it was a very attractive hand with long blunt fingers at the end of a muscled forearm. She pressed her lips together. She was more stressed than she thought. The man was smiling again.

  “Dottie will be here shortly. She knows everything there is to know about Kitty’s patients. Except the private stuff, of course.”

  Nina managed a stiff smile and pushed on the door again. Finally the man left, and she leaned against the door, taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. Silence. Alone. Now she could think and process.

  As she turned around, she caught sight of him entering his office, and he lifted his hand in a wave. To her dismay, she could see a great deal of his offices through the row of glass windows. Great. The man was a serious threat to her powers of concentration. Reaching up, she closed the blinds, restoring her sense of security.

  Her gaze took in the tastefully decorated area, which was furnished with a reception desk, a half dozen comfortable chairs and a coffee table piled with magazines. To the right of the desk was a door, which she guessed led to her friend’s office. Given Kathryn’s bubbly personality, she’d expected frilly, feminine decor, but the room had been decorated in calm and soothing tones of green and eggshell—perfect for helping patients relax.

  An assortment of upholstered furniture in a muted fabric filled the space. Kathryn’s desk sat at one end of the room, in front of a wall of shelves holding countless books. A tall file cabinet stood nearby.

  A quick check of the other doors revealed a small bathroom and a tiny lunch room. The arrangement suited her. She could come to work and never have to leave the office until the end of the day. Perfect.

  A folder with her name on it rested in the middle of the desk. She sat down and opened the cover and read the letter inside. Kathryn started off by apologizing for not being there to help her get settled. The job overseas had opened up sooner than expected, and they’d had to leave. She explained that she had transferred the most critical patients to other qualified professionals. The rest, she had assured her, were mainly in need of weekly talk time and reassurance.

  In addition, Kathryn had given her a schedule, a patient list and all the information she’d need to do her job. She’d also encouraged her to take on new patients if she wanted. But the last item on the list sent her heart into her throat. Once a week, she would be counseling a group of widows who were working through the changes in their lives as they started to move beyond the initial grieving period and transition into a normal life.

  Nina touched her trembling fingertips to her lips. No. She couldn’t possibly counsel widows. She was a widow, and she’d avoided dealing with her loss for the last several years. It was why she’d closed her private practice and gone to work for Duncan. Her job consisted of interviewing potential employees and assigning them to the best positions. It was all superficial and didn’t require her to become emotionally involved.

  But it was the P.S. at the end of Kitty’s letter that sent a cold rush along her veins. “I left my car parked behind the building, and the keys are in the drawer. I know you probably won’t use them, but just in case you do.” Nina’s throat closed up. Why would Kathryn think for one moment she would use those keys? The thought of getting behind the wheel of a car turned her blood to ice. At least, that was one area she didn’t have to worry about. But how was she going to deal with a group of widows needing guidance and direction when she had nothing whatsoever to offer them?

  * * *

  Bret retreated into his office, taking a seat in his worn leather chair and swinging it around to stare out the window. He could see the historic Saint John’s church steeple from here, and the sight normally grounded him. But at the moment, his mind was churning with confusion. Nina Johnson wasn’t what he’d expected. Kitty had described her friend as sweet and compassionate, a born nurturer with a heart for others. Kitty had mentioned that Nina had experienced great sadness in her life, but she hadn’t elaborated. Kitty would never reveal personal information about her patients or her friends.

  But the woman in her office now was cool, distant and might as well have worn a sign warning everyone to stay away. Yet Bret had seen her true emotions reflected in her blue eyes. They’d been filled with anxiety as she’d stared at the building, but then she’d quickly masked that anxiety behind a cool demeanor. Later he’d seen regret and anger dart through her eyes when he’d explained about his company. Her comment about soldiers didn’t sit well.

  Kitty’s depiction of Nina Johnson didn’t match the exterior of the woman either. Her five-foot-five frame was slender with rigid posture, and the gray suit and white blouse she wore did little to accentuate her bright blue eyes or her rich chestnut hair, which she wore clipped back behind her ears.

  He suspected her prim image was a shield for her deep vulnerability. He’d seen similar behavior in the veterans he worked with. Many of them chose to hide their feelings and fears instead of dealing with them. He and Kitty used to tease each other that he provided the external tools with his job placement and training programs, and she provided the internal tools by showing soldiers how to confront their fears and overcome them. She was also a strong supporter of his goal to provide help and assistance for the soldiers.