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One Good Reason
Sarah Mayberry
Jon had touched her—in a very possessive male way.
Gabby’s heartbeat thumped in her ears as she marched to her office. She could still feel the heat of his big hand burning through the seat of her khakis as he’d steadied her on the ladder.
It had taken every ounce of self-control to tell him to unhand her. What she’d really wanted was to grab him by his shirt and, well, explore all those urges his touch had instantly brought to life.
While she might not like him, she was wise enough to understand that it wasn’t always about liking the other person. Sometimes it was about pure animal attraction.
And when it came to Jon, it was very clear the animal in her liked the animal in him.
Dear Reader,
I loved writing The Last Goodbye—which is Tyler’s story—and I loved, loved, loved writing Jon’s story in One Good Reason. I didn’t set out to write a sequel. I created Gabby as Tyler’s conscience and friend, but somehow, almost as soon as she appeared she morphed into an ex-girlfriend who, maybe, still cared too much. Then I gave Tyler a brother, because I didn’t want him to be alone in his childhood, and along came Jon.
By the time I’d finished Tyler and Ally’s story, I knew that Jon and Gabby had to meet each other. A guy like Jon with hyper-protective instincts and a woman like Gabby who is determined to make her own way in the world seemed destined to be together from where I sat. Not that either of them were ever going to be aware of that! That would take all the fun out of it.
I’d like to think that while One Good Reason has some definite heavy moments—an abusive parent is no laughing matter—there is plenty of light and tenderness and love and hope amongst the hard stuff. People are hugely resilient, and love is a great healer.
I hope you enjoy reading Jon and Gabby’s story. I love to hear from readers via my website at www.sarahmayberry.com.
Until next time, happy reading!
Sarah Mayberry
About the Author
SARAH MAYBERRY lives by the seaside in Melbourne, Australia. She has recently married her partner of eighteen years and is enjoying their new home and fabulous but exhausting garden. Her goal for the next year is to learn how to prune the thirty-two different fruit and nut trees on their property and to be more organized. When she’s not writing, she loves to cook, sleep, shop, read and watch movies. She really wishes going to the gym made it onto the “loves” list, but she makes herself go anyway. Long live ice cream!
One Good Reason
Sarah Mayberry
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
I have to thank my husband for his endless patience
with me while I was writing this book.
That deadline was some doozy, my darling, but you fed
and watered me and mopped my fevered brow and I
thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kindness
and support.
Where would I be without you?
In my book, you are the ultimate hero.
I also want to thank Wanda for her endless faith in me—
you said I could do it and I did. Phew!
PROLOGUE
January
JON ADAMSON WOKE WITH A START. Someone was in his room. A heartbeat later, he was on his feet, fists raised, every muscle tense as he squared up to the intruder.
“Mate.” His brother held up his hands, took a step backward. “It’s just me.”
Jon dropped his fists. “You should have knocked.”
“I did.” Tyler’s gaze flicked to the half-empty bottle of bourbon beside the bed. “Several times.”
The light was hazy in the room. Jon tried to guess the time. Nine in the morning? Ten? He reached for the jeans he’d dumped at the end of the bed when he’d finally crashed last night.
“I was up pretty late.”
He wasn’t about to offer explanations for the bourbon or anything else. A man could have a few drinks at the end of the day. Besides, Tyler was the younger brother—it was Jon’s job to be the heavy, not the other way around.
“What are you doing up this way?” he asked as he stepped into his jeans.
Jon had been back in Australia, living in their late father’s house in the rural Victorian town of Woodend for eleven months now. Tyler lived an hour and a half away in Melbourne, so the two of them didn’t cross paths very often. Not that that would have changed even if they were geographically closer. They’d never been the kind of brothers who lived in each other’s pockets—witness the ten years Jon had spent in Canada.
“I hadn’t heard from you for a while. Thought I’d better check in.”
Jon pulled his T-shirt over his head, aware of the unspoken questions behind his brother’s words.
Why didn’t you return my phone messages? What’s going on?
“I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, I saw that. When did you knock down the wall between the kitchen and living room?”
“Figured both rooms would benefit from the light. It’s all about open plan these days.”
“What happened to tidying up the yard and giving the place a lick of paint before we listed it?”
“If you’re that desperate for the money, I can get a valuation done. Pay out your half.”
“It’s not about the money.”
Jon walked toward the door. “Yeah? What’s it about, then?”
Tyler followed him to the kitchen. Jon had pulled up the old linoleum tiles and the boards were rough beneath his feet. He sidestepped the hole where he’d removed a rotten plank and crossed to the sink. Turning on the tap, he sluiced handfuls of cold water onto his face.
Tyler was looking around, inspecting the gaping holes in the plaster where the kitchen cabinets had once hung. The only remaining features of the original kitchen was the sink unit, the freestanding stove and the fridge. And they’d be gone any day now, too.
“I suppose you’ve gutted the bathroom, too?”
“Everything except the toilet and shower recess.”
Tyler’s gaze was knowing. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to knock the place down?”
“I’m fixing it up for resale. We both agreed it needed work before we put it on the market.”
“Mate, you’re demolishing it from the inside out.”
“The kitchen needed updating. The bloody thing hadn’t been touched since the fifties. And the bathroom was leaking into the subfloor. You can see the joists I had to replace if you want to.”
Tyler didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look away, either.
Jon could feel his hackles rising. Tyler was making a big deal out of this, reading things into Jon’s actions. Whatever Tyler thought was going on, he was wrong. Way wrong.
Jon crossed his arms over his chest, widened his stance. “I’m doing you and Ally a favor. You’ll make a lot more with this place fixed up than you would have if we’d put it on the market as it was.”
“Will you quit it with the money? I don’t give a damn how much we make. I’m here because of you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah? You looked in a mirror lately? When was the last time you shaved or had a haircut?”
Jon brushed a hand over his bristly jaw. “I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to eat? Because you look like a bag of bones.”
“I’m fine.”
“Which is why Ally got a call from Wendy in the middle of the night on Monday, telling her it sounded like you were holding a demolition derby.”
Wendy was the next-door neighbor. Until this moment, Jon had thought she was all right. He’d even tried to talk her into bed a few times, but she was seeing some computer guy.
“I was taking the wall out,” Jon said.
“At two in the morning?”
“If I woke her, I’ll apologize.”
“And what about all the bottles in the recycling bin?”
Jon’s eyes narrowed. His brother was quite the amateur sleuth. “I’d say that gets filed under ‘none of your business,’ same as everything else.”
“Doesn’t work that way, sorry. I’m not going to stand by and watch you kill yourself over an old bastard who wasn’t worth it.”
“This has nothing to do with him.” But he could barely get the words past the sudden tightness in his throat.
“You think if you change enough of this place it’ll change what happened?”
“I think you’ve been living with an advice columnist for too long.”
Tyler eyed him for a long beat. Then he tilted his head to one side and nodded slowly, a gesture which Jon read as conceding defeat.
Good. He didn’t need a keeper.
As for the things Tyler had said … This had nothing to do with the old man. It had nothing to do with anything.
“I told Ally you wouldn’t listen,” Tyler said.
He crossed to the kitchen door and collected something from the hall.
An overnight bag.
It took a moment for the penny to drop.
“No,” Jon said.
“I figure if we both pitch in, we can get this place finished in a few weeks. Get it on the market. Then you can go back to Toronto or wherever. Get away from here.”
Jon swore. “I don’t want you here.”
“Tough.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Then stop acting like you do.”
Jon breathed in slowly through his nose and out through his mouth. It didn’t make much difference—he still wanted to smash a hole in something.
He strode across the room, picked up the overnight bag. Started for the door. Maybe once he’d tossed Tyler’s gear into the street his brother would get the message that his intervention was neither welcome nor necessary.
Tyler blocked his path. Jon stopped short of barging into his brother’s shoulder. He met Tyler’s gaze. There was determination there. And something else.
Compassion.
It made Jon’s hand curl into a fist.
“Get out of my way.”
“I’m not leaving unless you come with me,” Tyler said. “Come to Melbourne, move into the spare room. Get away from this place.”
“Get out of my way.”
Tyler didn’t move. Jon reached to push his brother out of his path. Tyler resisted, grabbing a fistful of Jon’s T-shirt as he attempted to hold him off. Years ago, Jon would have been able to shift his brother easily, but Tyler was a man now, and they’d both inherited their father’s big build.
Jon braced his legs, shoving harder. Tyler shoved back. For long moments they struggled, locked together. In any other fight, it would have come to blows by now, but Jon was not going to throw a punch at his brother.
