Married Or Not?

Married or Not? by Annette Broadrick

Why did her ex have to still be so attractive?

He made her motor run non-stop whenever he was around. Right now, she couldn’t afford to be tempted.

“Don’t worry about helping me,” she said. She could sense his reluctance. “I changed clothes earlier this evening.”

“All right. At least let me put you on the bed before I leave.”

Before she could protest, he picked her up as though she were weightless and sat her on the side of the bed.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Greg said.

She nodded. He continued to stand there. She closed her eyes. It would be so easy to forget what she’d gone through and accept the here and now…

Ian’s Ultimate Gamble by Brenda Jackson

“Mere friendship between us just won’t work.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No.” Ian’s voice was clipped and confident.

“And since things can never be like they were, we need closure to the relationship, a permanent end.”

Brooke knew that what he was saying was true, but hearing him say it hurt her deeply.

“So, how do you suggest we go about finding this closure?” she asked. “Do you want me to leave?”

He stared at her for a long moment before answering. “No. I don’t want you to leave. What I want, what I need, is to have you out of my system once and for all. I know of only one way to make that happen…”

Married or Not?

ANNETTE BROADRICK

Ian’s Ultimate Gamble

BRENDA JACKSON

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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MARRIED OR NOT?

by

Annette Broadrick

ANNETTE BROADRICK

believes in romance and the magic of life. Since 1984, Annette has shared her view of life and love with readers. In addition to being nominated by Romantic Times BOOKreviews as one of 1984’s Best New Authors, she has also won the following awards from Romantic Times BOOKreviews: a Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best in its Series; a WISH award; two Lifetime Achievement awards, one for Series Romance and one for Series Romantic Fantasy.

Dear Reader,

Families have an enormous influence on who we are and how we make our way in the world. I find the dynamics within a family interesting and often entertaining. Other times I grieve for all the lost opportunities that might have salvaged a relationship.

I hope you enjoy Married or Not? and find yourself rooting for each character in his or her struggle for love, happiness and peace.

Sincerely,

Annette Broadrick

One

If Sherri Masterson had had a crystal ball when she woke up that Friday morning in the middle of May, she would have turned off the alarm and stayed in bed. Instead, she followed her usual routine. She got up and showered at the apartment she shared with Joan Price, who was a schoolteacher. The automatic coffeemaker had her morning beverage waiting for her when she walked into the kitchen. She read the paper, nibbled on a piece of toast and drank her coffee before leaving for work.

Sherri loved her job as a technical writer. She worked in Austin, Texas, with a bunch of brilliant geeks who dreamed up new software for consumers. It was her job to translate computer-speak into plain, everyday language, so that a computer user would have no trouble understanding what the software had to offer and how to use it. She’d worked for New Ideas, Inc., for three years.

When she arrived at the office everyone she met was discussing plans for the weekend.

Her plans were the same every week: do her grocery shopping, take clothes to the dry cleaners and pick up last week’s and return home to wash a week’s accumulation of clothes, towels and bed linens.

Saturday was the big night of her week when she and her cat would curl up in front of the television and watch a movie rented from Netflix.

She looked forward to her weekends so that she could kick back and enjoy her time off. She wasn’t interested in dating, which she had trouble getting across to Joan, who was always trying to fix her up with someone: a fellow teacher, a friend of a friend, even one of the single coaches at her high school.

Sherri wanted none of it: the dating, the possibility of falling in love…again. Getting her heart broken…again. Been there. Done that. Barely survived the aftermath.

However, the point was, she had survived. It seemed to be Sherri’s lot in life to lose the people she loved and depended upon. She’d discovered that, despite the poet’s comment, it was better not to love at all than to love and lose.

Sherri had learned that life could be unspeakably cruel three weeks before her fourteenth birthday when she’d been told that the plane carrying her parents home from Greece had crashed.

She’d been staying with her aunt Melanie at the time, and was eager to see her parents again, looking forward to enjoying their photos and, of course, presents and souvenirs they had picked up for her.

She’d talked to her mom every day and lived vicariously through the descriptions of their travels. It had been the first vacation they’d taken on their own. Aunt Melanie had teased them about taking a second honeymoon since they hadn’t been able to go anywhere right after their wedding.

When her aunt told her about the crash, Sherri refused to believe that her parents were gone. She’d spoken to them earlier that day. They’d missed her as much as she missed them and finally the separation would be over.

The message must have been wrong. It had to be wrong.

But the crash was covered by all the news networks because the majority of the passengers were Americans and no one survived.

Sherri had little memory of attending the memorial service. Only vignettes of scenes had stayed with her. Her mother’s best friend holding her and crying while Sherri stood there, dry eyed. The display of photographs of her parents that her aunt had put together. Her dad’s boss telling her aunt that her father had substantial life insurance and a pension plan and that he didn’t want Melanie or Sherri to worry about finances.

As though money could begin to replace what she had lost.

She’d been so angry…at everyone: classes that had prevented her from going with her parents, the airline for allowing the plane to crash, and especially her mom and dad for dying and leaving her on her own. She had wished she’d been with them. At least they would all have been together.

Sherri had watched as her home, most of the furniture and furnishings and both cars were sold. She’d told her aunt she didn’t want anything from the house, but Melanie knew better and had saved many of the personal belongings that Sherri later came to treasure.

Sherri eventually worked through her grief, but at a price. She learned to keep people at a distance and to refuse offers of help, because depending on others who might leave her was too painful to contemplate. If she didn’t let anyone too close, she didn’t have to suffer the possibility of enduring another debilitating loss.

She had learned to survive whatever life threw at her without whining and to make tough choices, even if there was a price to pay. Her one attempt, after she’d become an adult, to allow herself to get close to someone had turned out to be a disaster.

Now Sherri concentrated on being an exceptional technical writer and was happy to forgo the painful pleasures of a relationship.

She was engrossed in finishing the technical manual she was working on—the one that had to be at the printer next week—when she heard that her boss, Brad Horton, had called a meeting for ten o’clock that morning.

Nobody seemed to know why. They generally had their meetings on Mondays. She looked at the manuscript with yearning. She was so close to finishing. With any luck the meeting would be short and she could spend the rest of the day finishing and polishing her work.

When she arrived in the conference room, there were fifteen other employees there. Why would Brad call a meeting for a few of them and not the entire work force? Was there some kind of rewards announcement he planned to make?

Sherri looked around the room. There were people from her department as well as from other sections of the company. Maybe all their hard work had paid off. Maybe Brad planned to give them midyear bonuses.

Yeah, right.

None of them had any idea why they were there and the room was buzzing when Brad strode into the room.

“Thank you for being here,” he began, his hands clasped behind his back. “As you know, we’ve been having difficulty meeting our quarterly sales projections. Management has spent considerable time and effort to come up with a solution and we have had to face the reality that the best thing for the company is to lay off some of our employees.”

A collective gasp swept the room. Sherri’s heart stopped before it began to race. Was he talking about her? She glanced around the table and saw that everyone was looking at him in various degrees of shock.

“I want you to know that none of this has anything to do with your performances,” he continued to say as her heart sank. “Each and every one of you is excellent at what you do. It’s just that we’re being forced to cut costs and unfortunately, this is the only way we can do it.”

She was horrified. And embarrassed. No matter how Brad phrased it, each of them was being fired.

Sherri struggled to come to grips with the whole idea. She had never been fired before. Sherri had always received praise for the work she did. Why would they choose to let her go? She understood the economics, but why was she one of the employees chosen to be laid off?

Her thoughts were bouncing around in her head and she broke out in a cold sweat. What was she going to do? How was she going to face Joan and tell her she’d lost her job? The reason Joan had asked Sherri to be her roommate was because the rent was too much for Joan by herself.

“To make the transition a little easier for each of you…” Brad continued. Sherri forced herself to listen. She had to concentrate. She couldn’t display her despair in front of everyone. “…you will each receive a check for two weeks’salary and any vacation leave you have coming.

“You’re talented people. Remember that. This is strictly a business decision.”

He looked around the room. “Any questions?”

No one spoke. Finally Sherri raised her hand.

“Yes, Sherri?”

“Uh, Brad, you know the manual I’ve been working on? I’ve been getting it ready for the printers next week. Do you want me to finish it before I leave?”

He shook his head. “I appreciate your offer, but no. We’ll have to deal with this without you.” He looked around the room. “Any others?”

No one said anything.

“In that case—” He reached into his coat’s breast pocket and pulled out a sheaf of envelopes. “When I call your name please pick up your check from me. There will be someone waiting at your desk to help you clear out your things.”

The ultimate humiliation. She would have to clean out her desk while someone looked over her shoulder to make certain she didn’t take something that wasn’t hers.

With all the dignity she could manage, Sherri walked to the head of the table when her name was called, took her check and returned to her desk. A smile was beyond her.

No one was talking. Those remaining with the company had their heads down, working. Had she been in their place, she would no doubt have done the same. She was now separated from them. They worked here. She didn’t.

Numbly she found a box and began to strip her desk of reference books and other odds and ends she’d accumulated over the past three years.

She was escorted out of the building and once in the parking lot, Sherri hurried to her car, at the moment the only escape and sanctuary she had. The inside of the car steamed with heat and she quickly rolled down the windows while she placed the box on the backseat. Inside the car, Sherri placed her hands on the steering wheel and stared blindly through the windshield.

What did I do wrong? I was rarely late and always called in. I didn’t take sick days like some of the others. Maybe I shouldn’t have skipped that meeting a few weeks ago in order to meet a printing deadline.

Panic surged through her. What about her part of the rent and utilities? She had money put away for emergencies, but nothing like this. She’d have no income to take care of bills.

The money left for her by her parents had enabled Sherri to pay for her college education and to buy herself a car. She’d been thankful not to have to worry about student loans and very grateful for their foresight.

What was she going to do? She had to get another job, but where?

She’d have to go through interviews, which she detested. She’d have to tell them she’d been laid off. Would that be a black mark against her?

Her eyes finally focused on a few people standing near their parked cars, discussing what had happened. She didn’t want to discuss what had happened with anyone. What she wanted to do was go back home and hide under the bed, or at least hide her head under her pillow.

Her life had been so carefully structured. She’d believed that working hard and honing her skills would protect her.

Tears trickled down her cheeks. She turned the car on and waited for the air conditioner to blow some cool air before raising the windows.

She couldn’t sit in the parking lot all day. She had no place else to go but home. Thank goodness school was still in session. She wouldn’t have to face Joan until later today.

Joan planned to spend most of her summer with three of her teacher friends traveling around Europe. They were leaving the latter part of June.

Sherri knew she was being cowardly, but she wished that this could have happened after Joan had left. She could have used the time to pull herself together and make some kind of plans.

She felt sick to her stomach. She had to get through this, somehow.

Sherri flipped the visor down and stared at herself in the mirror. “So. What do you intend to do now?”

The image in the mirror, with its dark-brown hair, green eyes and pasty white skin stared back blankly.

“Try not to panic. You can do this.”

She flipped the mirror up and eased the car forward. As she pulled out of the parking lot, Sherri thought of one positive…at least her car was paid for. That was one less worry. It was a few years old but she took good care of it. She only prayed nothing major broke down until she had a steady income once again.

She glanced back for a moment before getting on the access road of the freeway. Happiness was not looking in your rearview mirror to see the building where you no longer worked.

Sherri followed the access road until she could merge with traffic on the highway. She glanced at the car clock, amazed to discover it wasn’t even noon yet. Had it only been a few hours ago that she’d been home sipping coffee and reading the paper?

She shook her head. There was definitely a time warp going on. Nothing seemed real to her.

Once on the highway, Sherri headed for home. Traffic flowed smoothly at this time of day, which was a blessing. She had to force herself to focus on her driving.

After a few miles of traveling at seventy, she realized that, once again, luck was against her. Brake lights showed up ahead of her and she began to slow down. There must be an accident up ahead.

Out of habit, she glanced in her rearview mirror and froze.

A tractor-trailer rig had suddenly appeared at the top of the rise behind her and was bearing down on her.

Couldn’t he see all the red brake lights ahead of him? Couldn’t he see that she had come to a complete stop?

Time slowed down for her as she watched him attempt to slow down his rig. She could hear his brakes screaming as he moved inexorably toward her.

Sherri felt a certain calm fall upon her as she waited for him to hit her. Maybe this was the way her life would end. At that moment, she really didn’t care.

The last thing she remembered was the sound of screeching metal as the rig plowed into her car.

Sherri roused at some point, wondering where she was. She felt as though she were floating. She vaguely heard voices that didn’t seem to have anything to do with her. Excited voices. She lazily wondered what they were excited about.

A voice near her head yelled. “This one’s trapped in her car. We’ve gotta get her out of here. Now!”

“Is she alive?”

“Can’t tell. I can see her, but can’t reach her.

She wondered who they were talking about.

Loud sounds echoed around her, which was irritating. How rude. Couldn’t they see she was trying to rest?

She faded away, the voices in the distance, until she felt a hand at her throat.

“There’s a pulse. Let’s get her out of there.”

The seat shifted. Why was she under the dash? Compact cars were too small to be playing games.

Then more hands touched her, moving her.

She screamed and blacked out once again.

Two

Greg Hogan was returning to the police station when dispatch called him to come in. As a homicide detective, he spent as little time at the station as possible. As it happened, though, today he needed to run some information through the station’s computer. He was investigating the murder of a young photographer, and evidence he had gathered pointed to a person who knew his victim well enough to have invited him into his home. He had a couple of suspects in mind. Now he had to follow up on some leads in order to get the necessary evidence for an arrest.

He wondered why he’d been called in. Maybe he’d irritated the captain. If so, it would only be the third time this week. The captain didn’t like Greg’s attitude toward work. He wasn’t a team player. He was a maverick. The problem was, Greg solved homicides and the captain had trouble arguing with his success.

Not that Greg’s success ever stopped the captain from griping at him. Greg had grown so used to it that he’d long ago tuned him out, figuring that while the captain was going after Greg, he was leaving the others under his command alone.

Last week Pete Carter had pointed out how altruistic Greg was, protecting the other men from the captain. Pete was a sergeant on the force and had been around longer than any of them. Greg promptly suggested that since all the men were better off with him taking the brunt of the tongue-lashings, they owed him a beer. And darned if they hadn’t taken him out one night and wouldn’t let him pay for anything.

Greg smiled at the memory.

He pulled into his parking space at the station and got out of his car. The parking space was one of the perks he’d received with his promotion to lieutenant a few months ago, despite the prickly relationship he had with the captain.

Life was good.

As soon as Greg walked inside, he knew something was wrong. There were more men standing around in the bull pen than usual. And all of them looked grim. Greg put his hands on his hips.

“What’s going on?”

Pete walked over to him and put his hand on his shoulder. “Greg, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

Greg looked around the room and frowned. “What happened? Did one of the guys get hurt? Who?”

“No. It’s Sherri.”

“Sherri? What about her?”

“She was in a multicar accident this morning. They airlifted her to the hospital…alive when they got her to the hospital, but I heard she was in critical condition.”

Greg was thankful there was a chair nearby. His knees shook so hard he sank into the chair before his reaction became apparent to everyone. He clenched his jaw.

“I figured that since the two of you had some history together that you’d want to know,” Pete went on, sounding sympathetic.

Greg shook his head, feeling dazed. He pushed his hand through his hair and forced himself to look at Pete. “They’re sure it was her?”

“Yeah. A semi jackknifed when he tried to stop on the freeway and he plowed into her. She was in the last car of a string of them that were stopped due to an earlier accident. Six vehicles were in the smash-up and there were serious injuries in several of the cars, but she caught the brunt of it.”

Greg closed his eyes. Sherri? Near death? Couldn’t be.

“What hospital?” he finally asked.

Pete told him.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Greg said, and left.

He drove to the hospital on autopilot. He parked near the emergency entrance and strode across the parking lot. Inside, the place teemed with people; doctors and nurses moved among patients with various injuries. It looked like a war zone, with some of the injured on stretchers and others in chairs. The Emergency Medical Technicians from the various ambulances outside were working on those victims not as severely injured as the ones they’d brought in.

He quickly checked each stretcher and when he didn’t see her, went over to the nurses’ station.

“I’m looking for one of the accident victims who were airlifted to this hospital. Sherri Masterson Hogan.”

The harried nurse said, “Sir, you can see that we’re overwhelmed with all the injuries here and—”

“Just tell me where they took her and I’ll be out of here.”

She hurried past him, shaking her head.

He turned around and faced the noise and confusion around him. He knew he wouldn’t get any answers here.

Greg continued down the hallway, ignoring signs that read Do Not Enter and shoving doors open, looking into each cubicle for signs of her. A member of the hospital staff stopped him. Greg checked his name tag, which read Dr. Luke Davis, and figured he was one of the doctors on duty.

“Sir, I must ask you to return to the waiting area. Someone will help you as soon as possible.”

Greg said as clearly as he could with his jaws clenched, “Dr. Davis. I’m looking for Sherri Masterson Hogan, who was in that six-car smash-up. I’m told she was airlifted here and I intend to find her.”

The doctor nodded. “I see. Are you a family member?”

“I’m her husband.”

What difference did it make, anyway? He was determined to see her, regardless of their relationship.

“Hold on. I’ll see what I can find out for you,” Dr. Davis said, striding down the hallway, the tails of his medical coat flapping around him.

Greg paced back and forth, dodging carts, beds and medical personnel until the doctor returned.

“She’s in surgery.”

“What are her injuries?”

Dr. Davis shook his head. “You’ll need to speak to the surgeon about that.”

“Where can I find him when he gets out of surgery?”

“You can wait for him upstairs, in Intensive Care. He’ll look for family members when he finishes.”

Greg swallowed. “I want to see her as soon as possible.”

“The surgeon will discuss that with you.”

Greg nodded, turned on his heel and headed toward the bank of elevators.

“Good luck,” Dr. Davis said behind him.

Greg rode the elevator to the next floor where the ICU was located. It was quiet on the ICU floor, which was a relief from the pandemonium downstairs. He pushed through double swinging doors and found the nurses’ station.

“Sir,” one of the nurses said, “you can’t come in here.”

“I’m waiting for Sherri Masterson Hogan to come out of surgery.”

She looked down at the desk and riffled through some files. She read some of the files before saying, “We have a Sherri Masterson who has been recently admitted.”

So she’d taken back her maiden name. Why wasn’t he surprised?

“Are you family?”

He’d already lied once. “Her husband.”

She nodded. “Good. We need to get more information on her.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay.”

She went down a list, asking questions. He knew her age, birthdate, even her blood type, but he had no idea where she lived these days, so he rattled off his own address.

After answering the rest of the questions, Greg wandered down the hallway to the ICU waiting room with the nurse’s promise that the doctor would be out to speak with him as soon as he was out of surgery.

Greg hated sitting around, but he had no intention of leaving the hospital until he knew more about Sherri’s injuries.

He wondered why he cared. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her in almost two years. Eighteen months, six days, to be precise.

She’d asked him not to contact her once everything had ended, and he’d determinedly followed her instructions. He’d almost convinced himself she was part of his past. He was so over her. Then what was he doing here? Why had he panicked at the thought that she could die?

For one thing, she was much too young, six years younger than his thirty-two years.

Just because she wanted no part of me didn’t mean she deserved to die.

The last six months they were together had been filled with so much tension that it had become a third party in their marriage. She’d withdrawn into herself. When he asked what was wrong, she told him that he was too secretive about his past and his background. She said she didn’t really know him at all.

Okay, so he wasn’t the most talkative person in the world…especially about his feelings. He’d never been good about opening himself up and sharing his innermost thoughts and emotions with anyone.

When they’d first married, she had asked him all kinds of questions…about his childhood, his family, why he’d chosen to be a cop. He never liked talking about his childhood or his family and admittedly he was less than forthcoming. As far as he was concerned, all of that was in the past and had no bearing on who he was today. He’d just had trouble explaining that to Sherri’s satisfaction. He’d finally stopped trying.

He shouldn’t have been all that surprised the day he got home to find every last trace of her presence in his apartment gone. She’d left the key to his place on the counter with a note telling him that she was getting a divorce and to contact her attorney—she also left the attorney’s business card—if he had any questions.

Hell yes, he’d had questions! How could she just move out like that? She’d kept asking him to talk to her about stupid things, but that was no reason just to walk out on him. He’d loved her and she’d thrown his love back in his face. Why else would she have hired an attorney before she’d even bothered to tell him she wanted a divorce?

He’d been furious with her. He’d waited three days to calm down enough to call her attorney, who had told him that since they’d acquired no property of significance during the three years of their marriage, Sherri wanted to keep what was hers and let him keep what was his.

He hadn’t argued because he knew there would be no point. She’d obviously made up her mind and his opinion didn’t matter.

He’d tried to be what she’d wanted in a husband, but he hadn’t really known what she expected a husband to be. He’d been alone for most of his twenty-seven years before they’d met. Of course there had been adjustments to sharing a place with her. However, he’d loved her and showed his love in every way he knew how, but his love hadn’t been enough. He knew, was absolutely convinced, that she’d loved him in the beginning. There was no way she could have faked her response to him. His off-duty hours had been spent in bed with her, making love to her, holding her, listening to her while she talked about her childhood and her family.

She’d had it tough and he’d told her that he would always be there for her, that he would never abandon her, or leave her to deal with life on her own.

And yet…

After a while she’d stopped talking to him as much and he figured that was because she’d told him everything about her past. She would ask him about his work, but once he was home he didn’t want to talk about his job. He just wanted to be with her.

He’d always worked long hours during an investigation, but she’d known that. He might have rushed her into marriage a little fast, but he had been afraid he would lose her if he settled for a long engagement. He’d lost her anyway.

Well, he’d come to terms with the divorce. There wasn’t much else he could do. He’d tried to console himself that cops had a higher rate of failed relationships than almost any other profession. Somehow, that hadn’t helped him get over the pain of losing her.

And now she was seriously injured. Regardless of the circumstances, he could not leave the hospital without knowing how she was.

Greg waited three more hours before a weary doctor wearing scrubs appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Masterson?”

“Um, no. Greg Hogan. Sherri uses her maiden name.” He had trouble talking around the knot in his throat. He finally managed to ask, “How is she?”

The doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “There was some internal bleeding and we had to remove her spleen. She’s in stable condition. I think she’s going to get through this with no problem. The airbag saved her life but there was some bruising. Her right arm is broken as well as her right leg, so she’ll be slowed down for a while, but otherwise, I think she’s in good shape, considering what she went through.”

Greg’s relief at the news caused him to choke up. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying to gain control over his emotions.

“May I see her?” he finally managed to ask.