STARTING OVER
Authors: Kathy Clark
STARTING OVER
By
Kathy Clark
“SPARKS AND SHOOTING STARS”
Kate knew what Rusty was referring to, but she dared not speak or he might see how his kiss had r
attled her senses.
"Kate . . . Kate, didn't you see them?" he murmured. And "Wh
at am I going to do with you?"
Her head nestled in the curve of his neck. For a few seconds, she allowed herself to be held before she lifted her hands and gently pushed h
im away.
"That shouldn't have happened." The heated blush that stained her cheeks could be caused by embarrassmen
t or excitement . . . or both.
"Why not?" he asked, his hands aching to touch her again.
"You're free to fall in love again, and I'm not married. The only problem is timing, and I've always heard cupid likes to shoot his arrows at the most inconvenient of times."
Published March 1991
eISBN
: 978-0-373-16383-0
STARTING OVER
Copyright © 1991 by Kathy Clark. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All the characters In this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
® are Trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.
To Karan Richardson, one of my oldest* and dearest friends. It's been fun. I wish you the best of luck in everything you do.
*Oldest as in years of friendship, not in age!
A special thanks to everyone at U.S. Coast Guard Station Freeport, especially BMC Scott Dunaway and Petty Officer Gravette. You are doing a terrific job. (If you had been on duty when Doug Cramer's helicopter went down, I'm sure you could have found him.)
OTHER BOOKS BY KATHY CLARK & BOB KAT
MAINSTREAM
Life’s What Happens (written under pen name of Bob Kat)
YOUNG ADULT
OMG (written under pen name of Bob Kat) (#1 CUL8R Series)
BRB (written under pen name of Bob Kat) (#2 CUL8R Series) scheduled April, 2013
THX (written under pen name of Bob Kat) (#3 CUL8R Series) scheduled July, 2013
SUSPENSE
After Midnight (#1 Denver After Dark Series)
Cries in the Night (#2 Denver
After Dark Series) scheduled June, 2013
CONTEMPORARY WOMEN’S FICTION
Angel of Mercy
(#3 Angel Series)
Cody’s Last Stand
Count Your Blessings
Goodbye, Desperado
Kissed By An Angel (#1 Angel Series)
Phantom Angel (#2 Angel Series)
Sight Unseen
Stroke of Midnight
Sweet Anticipation
Teacher’s Pet
ROMANCE NOVELS
Another Sunny Day
Born to be Wild
Cold Feet, Warm Hearts
Golden Days (sequel to Another Sunny Day)
No Satisfaction
Passion and Possession
A Private Affair
Risky Business
Starry Nights
Tempting Fate
Contents
Cover Image
Title Page
Copyright & Permissions
Dedication
Books by Kathy Clark
Prologue
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
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Preview of
After Midnight
Preview of
OMG
Preview of
Life’s What Happen
Prologue
"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday . . . this is helo number November 23 . . . engine problems . . . going down . . . Mayday . . . May ..."
The two Coast Guard officers who were monitoring the international distress frequency on their station's radio exchanged concerned glances.
"This is Station Freeport. Helo, please repeat your registration number and your coordinates," one of the officers instructed the unknown pilot.
The only answer was the roar and crackle of static.
"Helo, do you read me? We need your coordinates and registration number," the officer repeated.
There was no further response from the helicopter's pilot.
"I didn't catch but the first three digits of his helo numbers. How about you?" the officer questioned his partner.
"No. There was too much noise on the channel"
Both men knew what a monumental task it would be to find a downed helicopter in the vastness of the Gulf of Mexico without either coordinates or a complete registration number.
"From the strength of the frequency, he couldn't be too far away. I suppose we'd better call for an air search."
The first officer sighed as he turned back to his console. "While you contact Corpus Christi to send the Falcons, I'll start calling the airports and transport services to see if they have a helo out whose numbers begin with N23."
"It'll take at least an hour for the Falcons to get here. Maybe by then our
helo will have located the wreckage."
For the next four hours the two officers monitored the radios, listening as two of the Coast Guard's Falcon jets and one of their helicopters flew search patterns back and forth across the area. When a scattering of debris was discovered floating on the surface about twenty miles out of Freeport, the officers didn't know whether to cheer or despair.
"We're on scene in position twenty-eight degrees, forty minutes north and zero nine-five degrees, ten minutes west. We've come across debris of what appears to be a helo."
"Is there any sign of life?
A raft? Anything?" one of the men asked the Falcon pilot who had sighted the signs of the crash.
"No, only a few pieces of the aircraft and what appears to be a seat cushion," the pilot answered. "That
helo must have sunk like a rock."
"We'll determine the drift and send the cutter Point Monroe to check it out. Let me verify those coordinates." He repeated the pilot's position.
"Roger. We're heading home now."
The Coast Guard helicopter hovered overhead while the cutter moved in slow, ever widening circles around the drifting debris until the darkness of night overtook them, stealing away most of their visibility. When, at last, the chopper headed back toward port, they called in their final report of the day.
"There's no sign anyone survived. Do you have any idea how many passengers were on board?"
The bone-weary
officers who had not left their posts since the first distress call came in, answered in the negative.
"We didn't have time to get any information about the craft or its occupants. We were finally able to track down the registration to C-Breeze, a transport company based in Freeport, but there's been no answer at their office. Ever hear of them?"
"Sure. It's a small company, only two helos on their pad," the captain answered. "It's a family operation with just one pilot . . . the husband, I think."
"Do you think there is any chance he made it...?" The second officer's voice trailed off at the implication.
"Not unless he's a phenomenal swimmer. But even if he was Michael Phelps, the sharks would get him if he doesn't have some sort of survival gear. From what we've found . . . or haven't found . . . I'd say the guy is a goner. There's pieces of rotor and fuselage everywhere. If the pilot survived, he'd be hanging on to something. The cutter will continue the search through the night, and we'll be back out there as soon as the sun rises."
The first officer took off his headphones and let his head fall back to relieve the tension in his neck muscles. "Twenty miles out . . . hell, he won't even wash up on shore. If they didn't find him today, he'll be fish food tonight."
The second officer grimaced. He had only been with the Coast Guard for a few months, and this was the first death he had had to deal with. "I'm just glad I'm not the one who has to notify his family."
Chapter One
"Why don't you stay here until the baby is born? You know your dad and I love having you around again. We have no plans for your old room, and we could turn the study into an nursery. Or we could convert the attic over the garage into an apartment. Your father has been talking about doing that for years anyway, so it wouldn't be any trouble." As she spoke, the woman's hands continued to knead a soft lump of dough although her gaze never left the face of her daughter.
It was a tempting offer. Wrapped in the warm, safe cocoon of her childhood home, surrounded by the love and concern of her parents, Kate Cramer could put off facing the future. Sleeping in her old room, waking up each morning to the familiar smells and sounds of her mother preparing breakfast, and spending her afternoons and evenings helping out at the restaurant took her back to a happier, more carefree time. When she was a teenager she had her whole life before her. She had yet to meet the man she would fall in love with and marry, and the thought of becoming a mother was still a distant dream.
Kate looked down at the chunks of apple she had been cutting into small pieces for turnovers. The sun sparkling through the kitchen window reflected off the solitaire diamond that was centered in her wedding set. At that same moment, the baby rolled inside her, adding his reminder to how much things had changed since she had last lived with her parents. Not only had she met, fallen in love with and married a wonderful man and was now eagerly awaiting the birth of her first baby, but she had become a widow.
