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Katia's Promise
Catherine Lanigan
The past is a risky place to visit As a top insurance agent in Chicago, Katia Stanislaus isn't just used to pressure; she thrives on it. When she finds out her firm's future is at stake, she's the first to dream up a solution: relocate to Indian Lake and land the town's reclusive millionaire as a client. Austin McCreary might be the sweetheart she left brokenhearted when they were teens, but she can't let her feelings–or his–get in the way of her career. If she can just convince him to listen to her explanation, and her pitch, he'll see this is the deal of a lifetime. But that would involve talking, and he won't even take her calls! How ridiculous. Because this is strictly business…isn't it?
The past is a risky place to visit
As a top insurance agent in Chicago, Katia Stanislaus isn’t just used to pressure; she thrives on it. When she finds out her firm’s future is at stake, she’s the first to dream up a solution: relocate to Indian Lake and land the town’s reclusive millionaire as a client. Austin McCreary might be the sweetheart she left brokenhearted when they were teens, but she can’t let her feelings—or his—get in the way of her career. If she can just convince him to listen to her explanation, and her pitch, he’ll see this is the deal of a lifetime. But that would involve talking, and he won’t even take her calls! How ridiculous. Because this is strictly business...isn’t it?
The crowd dispersed slowly, like the shifting sand following a wave.
Mrs. Beabots was the last to leave the room, and then it was just Katia standing across from Austin in the front parlor of the house she grew up in.
“Hello, Austin.”
“Katia.”
She thought her heart would hammer a hole right through her chest, but she didn’t dare let him know how much he affected her. She couldn’t decide whether to rush to him and ask his forgiveness on the spot. She felt like she’d turned to stone. She couldn’t think or move.
She was filled with blistering guilt.
“Austin, I’m so—”
His hands shot up to silence her. “Katia, leave. Now.”
“But, Austin, I want to talk to you.”
He shook his head. “Leave. It’s what you do best.”
Dear Reader (#ulink_16467713-5a81-526c-9b3f-5a0acfed9acb),
For those of you who are just discovering the Shores of Indian Lake, Katia’s Promise is the fourth book in the series. Although Katia’s story was the fourth one to be written, it was the vision of beautiful, guilt-ridden Katia returning to Indian Lake after nearly twenty years of living in Chicago that sparked the entire series. I had a vision of Katia standing under a streetlight across from an elegant home, daring herself to go in and confront the man she’d left brokenhearted when she was sixteen. I wanted a heroine who knew she’d “done wrong by him.”
Austin McCreary has never forgiven Katia. When she seems to blow into Indian Lake like a gale-force wind and crashes a presentation he’s giving in his home, he’s not happy to see her.
I hope you enjoy Katia’s story as much as I did when I finally put her stormy romance with Austin on paper.
I would love to hear if there’s a character you’ve seen mentioned in Indian Lake whose story you’d like to read. You can contact me at cathlanigan1@gmail.com or my website at catherinelanigan.com (http://www.catherinelanigan.com). You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and LinkedIn.
Catherine Lanigan
Katia’s Promise
Catherine Lanigan
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CATHERINE LANIGAN knew she was born to storytelling at a very young age when she told stories to her younger brothers and sister to entertain them. After years of encouragement from family and high school teachers, Catherine was shocked and brokenhearted when her freshman college creative-writing professor told her that she had “no writing talent whatsoever” and that she would never earn a dime as a writer. He promised her that he would get her through his demanding class with a B grade so as not to destroy her high grade point average, if Catherine would promise never to write again.
For fourteen years she did not write until she was encouraged by a television journalist to give her dream a shot. She wrote a 600-page historical romantic spy-thriller set against World War I. The journalist sent the manuscript to his agent who then garnered bids from two publishers. That was nearly forty published novels, nonfiction books and anthologies ago.
This book is dedicated to my husband, Jed Nolan, with all my love forever.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_c27a92d1-ac7a-5c75-9358-50119489d9c1)
I don’t know how many times my editors have had to pull their hair out over my manuscripts until, together, we finally create a jewel, but I’m hoping no one runs to a wig store on my account. Each time I sit down to the computer I say a prayer of thanksgiving for everyone at Heartwarming.
To my editor, Claire Caldwell, believe me, there aren’t enough words in this clunky English language to express my sincere gratitude for your brilliant guidance and creativity.
Many thanks to Victoria Curran for expecting superior storytelling out of me and all the authors. I also appreciate all you do out there in the real world to promote the line and the authors, and the push to get our books into more retail venues.
To all the Heartwarming staff, you are extraordinarily talented individuals, and it shows. From our unique and compelling covers to the cover copy to the daunting hours of promotion on social media it takes to make our presence known, thank you.
To Dianne Moggy—as always, I send you my sincere gratitude and affection.
Contents
Cover (#u19111fce-9e23-520b-909b-db974a78cff7)
Back Cover Text (#uf2570877-0a91-5d61-a621-abcd71cf9aa1)
Introduction (#ucdb7ccf2-7d63-5798-bb64-130751b5885f)
Dear Reader (#ulink_432696b3-ece7-5605-b2cb-4541b90da731)
Title Page (#uab6ab8d9-b503-59f0-abda-30597a5a6742)
About the Author (#uaf917ee6-3f80-5cee-845a-aaa46ac3bbbd)
Dedication (#u0e2ae8c0-0877-554b-90a9-40d11c67fe6e)
Acknowledgments (#ulink_cea6e392-83d4-518e-945f-4759f8fc6b7b)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_f3af3706-71cf-50f7-850d-b579184a53c6)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_6e1f16c9-6a0a-5b64-bd93-0dc68200433d)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_1764e97d-f118-5e7c-8f16-730459abac34)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_071968f9-9641-5847-a0b5-4a9459a4b58c)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_57c1b027-2d9a-5f93-b633-6e5efb8b9f4a)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_45ca0172-aa02-55fc-9c61-7cfff0236cde)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_aff884cc-b9e8-5a80-8ce8-3d35eb743173)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_9fa952e4-a578-596e-aa99-bf1eae8301e7)
GOLDEN AND BRONZE autumn sunset beams shot through the wooden slats on Katia’s high-rise apartment windows. She padded across the beige carpet in bare feet, rushing from the bathroom to the bedroom. She was late for her own party.
She’d spiraled a navy towel around her hair, then spritzed herself with jasmine-and-almond-scented body spray. Now, standing in front of her closet, she pulled out the black silk and lace sheath dress she’d recently bought at her favorite resale shop on the far North Side. The dress had obviously never been worn. Like most of the dresses at Sonja’s Secrets, this one had probably belonged to an affluent woman from Wilmette or Kenilworth who shopped out of boredom and not need. Katia hadn’t had time to be bored since she was very young. Ten years ago, she was too busy building her résumé and her reputation in the insurance business to shop, go to the movies or do anything other than work. Then she’d turned thirty, landed a job at Carter and Associates with Jack Carter, and in her four years there, she’d become a manager. She’d won confidence and approval.
She was on top of the world.
Katia zipped up the dress and turned to check herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. She smiled. The dress fit like a dream and showed off her slender figure, and the well-placed darts accentuated her waist. Katia only had two rules when it came to diet and exercise: no French fries, and she walked the twenty-one blocks to and from work every day. Life already had enough rules to follow, she thought.
Katia unfurled the towel and shook out her messy mane of coppery hair. She quickly applied black eyeliner to make the dark green of her eyes pop. She swooped on blusher and then uncapped a brand-new flame-red lipstick. The salesgirl at Macy’s had claimed it was such a powerful red, it would change her life.
Just then, Katia smelled something burning in the kitchen. The turnovers!
Tossing the lipstick onto her dresser, Katia raced, still barefoot, into the kitchen. The timer was chirping, and there was a thin stream of brown smoke coming from the oven. Using an orange pumpkin-shaped pot holder, she opened the oven and pulled out the cookie sheet of feta cheese, spinach and bacon phyllo dough appetizers.
Katia looked over the tray of golden crisp finger foods. Only one victim. I’m saved, she thought.
As she turned off the oven, the intercom rang. It was Joey, the doorman. “Miss Stanislaus. Your guests are arriving. In droves, I might add. Should I send them up?”
“Yes, Joey. Thanks.”
Katia hung up and quickly moved the hot appetizers onto a tiered serving stand. She took the stand into the dining nook, placed it strategically on the table and surveyed her work.
Katia’s apartment was small, but it had a large enough dining and living area that she could comfortably host small parties, like the engagement party she was throwing tonight for her coworker Tina and her fiancé, Allen. The kitchen was minuscule, but since Katia didn’t cook—except for when she had company—she didn’t mind. The bathroom was more of an alcove than a room, and the only saving grace in her bedroom was the walk-in closet, which housed the bounty of her bargain-hunting addiction.
The building had been constructed in the late 1950s and wasn’t very aesthetically pleasing. What it had going for it was great access to her work, security and a massive window that looked out over Chicago. Many was the night that Katia lived to see the lights glittering beneath her, as if she was walking on stars.
Katia smoothed the white cotton tablecloth she’d bought at an outlet store—yet another great bargain—and straightened the fruit platter of grapes, pears, melon wrapped in prosciutto, pineapple chunks speared with maraschino cherries, apples for dipping in caramel sauce and twin mounds of strawberries with chocolate fudge. She’d displayed an array of specialty cheeses on a slab of rough-edged marble she’d found at a granite and marble boneyard. She had four kinds of crackers and three bread selections.
She crossed to the antique marble-topped buffet on the wall next to the boring, mantel-less fireplace. This was the most important element of all—the bar.
Recently, Katia had discovered Crenshaw Vineyards while passing through her hometown, Indian Lake, on a business trip. She’d gone back four times, and now her wine rack and portable wine cooler were stocked with some of the best wines Katia had ever tasted. Katia had bought discount wineglasses and garage sale decanters, and she’d trawled eBay for the best deals on bar paraphernalia. But she never scrimped on the food and wine that she served to her guests.
Katia loved giving parties, and though she couldn’t afford florists, live music, caterers or even a bartender, she enjoyed making holidays and special events even more exceptional for her friends and coworkers. She wanted them to have happy memories.
“I want them to remember me,” Katia murmured as the doorbell rang.
Putting her hand on the doorknob, Katia scanned the room one more time. She couldn’t remember if she’d dusted the glass shelf in the bathroom or if she’d lit the scented candle in the kitchen.
There was a knock.
It was too late now for a last-minute check. Katia felt her heart pound ever so slightly, as it always did before an important meeting or a special event, then she whisked open the door.
“Hi, guys!” She beamed at Tina Goodman, her assistant at Carter and Associates, and Allen Hampton, the football coach for St. Michael’s High School. “If it isn’t the bride and groom!” The second the words were out of her mouth, Katia realized she still wasn’t wearing any shoes. She’d been so immersed in the food and decor, she’d forgotten to finish dressing. It wasn’t like her to be so scatterbrained, but she’d been noticing herself slipping up more often lately.
Allen—lean, blond and California handsome—kissed Katia’s cheek. “You look gorgeous, as always,” he said, winking at Tina and pulling her close with a possessive arm.
Katia smiled demurely. “But not as beautiful as the bride.” She squeezed Tina’s hand.
“Very diplomatic, both of you,” Tina teased. She gave Katia a quizzical look. “You’re shorter.”
“Uh! Didn’t have a chance to grab my shoes. Come in before the others get up here. I have to finish dressing.”
“We’re not early, are we?” Allen asked as Katia ushered them inside.
“No, no. It’s just me. I got behind somehow.”
Tina shook her head. “That’s hard for me to imagine.” She turned to Allen. “We call her Miss Excel at work. Because she’s so organized, we figure even her leg waxings are plugged into a spreadsheet.”
“I’m not that bad,” Katia replied defensively, showing them into the living room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I have to get my shoes.”
Allen grinned playfully and winked again at Tina. “Maybe some earrings, too, while you’re in there?”
Tina elbowed him and giggled.
