Love Me Tonight. Gwynne Forster

      Dear Reader,

      Since so many of you have written to me over the past several years asking if I would write another book about the Harrington brothers, my editor agreed that it was time to revisit that charming family. As you may know, there were only three Harrington brothers—Telford, Russ and Drake—and each had his own story. However, in my treasure trove of ideas, I discovered that the Harrington family is larger than I initially thought. As such, it gives me great pleasure to bring you this story of the sometimes sizzling, sometimes rocky relationship between another Harrington man and the woman he loves.

      If you enjoy this story—and I sincerely hope that you do—you will be happy to learn that a character introduced in this novel, Love Me Tonight, continues the Harrington family series in his own story, A Compromising Affair, which will be published by Arabesque in 2011.

      In case you missed the previous award-winning Harrington novels, Once in a Lifetime, After the Loving and Love Me or Leave Me, Arabesque is reissuing them, beginning with Once in a Lifetime in November 2010. I hope you have an opportunity to read them.

      I enjoy receiving mail, so please e-mail me at [email protected]. If you write by postal mail, reach me at P.O. Box 45, New York, NY 10044, and if you would like a reply, please enclose a self-addressed, stamped envelope. For more information, please contact my agent, Pattie Steel-Perkins, Steel-Perkins Literary Agency, e-mail [email protected].

      Warmest regards,

      Gwynne Forster

      Acknowledgments

      To my husband and my stepson, whose love, affection and unfailing support are always with me and for which I thank God every day of my life.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 1

      Judson Philips sat on his back porch looking at the sunset. He appreciated the longer days and shorter nights of mid-March, for time seemed to pass more swiftly than during the dreariness of winter. He needed the healing that the passage of time would bring.

      Rick, his big German shepherd, sat beside him, occasionally rubbing against his leg. “Come on, boy, no use procrastinating. It has to be done, so let’s do it.” He patted Rick on the head, got up and went inside. He’d never realized how big that house was or how lonely he could be in it. With Rick beside him, he ran up the stairs and opened the door to his parents’ bedroom.

      For the first time in his life, he was alone in every sense of the word. Being adopted and an only child, he’d been the apple of his parents’ eyes. They doted on him so much that, until he finished high school, achieving his independence had been one long struggle. When he was seven or eight years old, he had often fantasized about leaving Baltimore and becoming a saxophone player with a jazz band and traveling around the world.

      He opened several chests of drawers in his parents’ bedroom and found nothing of particular interest. He wasn’t sure what to look for but decided to search in the bottom of his mother’s closet. He found a two-foot square cardboard box with four drawers tucked away. He sat with it on his parents’ bed and opened a drawer.

      The sight of his father’s passport gave him cause for hope. The phone rang, breaking the silence and startling him, much like a child caught in mischief.

      “Hello,” he said, expecting to hear the voice of one of his mother’s friends calling to console him.

      “How’s it going, man?”

      “Scott! Not so good,” he began to unburden himself. “You know I loved my parents, and they certainly loved me. But I never got the courage to ask them about my birth parents, because I didn’t want them to think I was unhappy or that they didn’t do enough for me even though I never stopped wanting to know where I came from. Now they’re both gone, and I’ll probably never know. I feel…I don’t know…but it’s as if I have no ties. I don’t belong with…hell! You know what I mean. I’ve just begun looking through my folks’ papers.”

      “You gonna try and find your birth parents?”

      Judson squeezed his eyes shut. “I have to,” he said.

      “I understand. I’m with you, man. You know that.”

      “Yeah. Thanks.”

      “I almost forgot why I called you. I know it’s early after what you’ve just been through with Aunt Bev, Judson, but I thought it would do you good to get out. Tomorrow’s my birthday. And my folks are giving me a party at the Hilton. Remember? What do you say?”

      “Uh…all right. I’ll…I’ll be there.” He’d forgotten about Scott’s birthday. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ve…had a lot on my mind.”

      “I know that, buddy. I’m glad you’ll come.”

      Judson hung up. Scott Galloway had been his close friend since kindergarten, and he couldn’t think of anyone more reliable as a friend. He opened a second drawer and discovered a stack of papers, brown and dry with age. His heartbeat accelerated when he found an old newspaper clipping of a birth announcement. He discovered whoever it was about was born in Hagerstown, Maryland.

      “Hmm.” Why would his parents keep the newspaper clipping?

      The next morning, Friday, Judson bought Scott a digital camera to replace one he’d lost, had it wrapped and delivered by messenger. He arrived at the party a few minutes after nine that evening, and Scott met him at the entrance to the ballroom.

      “Judson,” Scott greeted him. “Thanks for that terrific camera.” He took it from his pocket. “Just what I needed. Uh…I have someone I want you to meet. Marks has been stalking her for the last hour.”

      Judson seemed indifferent. He tried not to let his frustration show, but he certainly felt like it. “Happy birthday, Scott. Sorry, but I do not want to meet another one of your cute buddies.”

      “This one isn’t a buddy and you’d better not call her cute. She’s a coworker and a friend, and you definitely want to meet her.” He tapped Judson’s shoulder. “Trust me.”