Colton's Secret History Read online

  It’s their second chance at love.

  Will the truth come between them?

  Returning to her hometown, health investigator Bridgette Colton is reluctantly reunited with old flame Luke Walker. For years, emotionally scarred Bridgette has kept a life-changing secret from Luke. But now their bond lands Bridgette squarely in the path of a terrifying stalker. Losing her heart to Luke again could be a fatal mistake...for them both.

  Moving his hand from her back upward to her hair, he wrapped his fingers in her long tresses. Luke pulled back on her head, exposing her throat.

  He licked her neck. Sucked on her earlobe. When she let out a mew of delight, he returned his lips to hers. Slipping his tongue inside her mouth, Luke explored, tasted and conquered.

  “Luke,” Bridgette said into his mouth, their breaths becoming one. “Oh, Luke.”

  He pressed her into the window, his hand traveling from her hair to her stomach. He worked his fingers under the hem of her shirt, just to see if she felt as soft as he imagined.

  She was.

  His fingers traveled farther up her stomach, and the tips of his fingers grazed the lace of her bra. Luke pressed against the fly of his jeans. He wanted Bridgette. And it wasn’t just tonight. He’d always wanted her. Hers was the face that came to him in dreams and fantasies alike.

  And then the window exploded.

  Dear Reader,

  I have a secret! I am beyond thrilled to be a part of The Coltons of Kansas. This series is full of twists, turns, romance, passion—and of course, secrets. Besides the thrilling stories, the authors who are telling these tales are fabulous.

  If you’ve ever read any of my previous Dear Reader letters, you might remember that the dream of being a Harlequin author goes back to my early teens. It all started with my grandmother, a woman who was both loving and glamorous, and a voracious reader of Harlequin novels.

  One summer afternoon, she finished a medical romance and handed it to me, while saying, “Now, if I could find a man like that, I’d give up being a widow!” I read that book in a day and as I closed the cover, I had a single thought: when I grow up, I want to write romance novels.

  With Colton’s Secret History, I’m releasing my seventh book with Harlequin—something my adolescent self would have never thought possible. More even than the book is the company I get to keep with this series. Wow, just wow!

  Dear Reader, I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing Colton’s Secret History. And if you do love this book—and the series—don’t keep it a secret. Pass it on to someone you love. They’ll love back you for sharing!

  All the best,

  Jennifer D. Bokal

  COLTON’S SECRET HISTORY

  Jennifer D. Bokal

  Jennifer D. Bokal is the author of the bestselling ancient-world historical romance The Gladiator’s Mistress and the second book in the Champions of Rome series, The Gladiator’s Temptation. Happily married to her own alpha male for twenty years, she enjoys writing stories that explore the wonders of love in many genres. Jen and her husband live in upstate New York with their three beautiful daughters, two aloof cats and two very spoiled dogs.

  Books by Jennifer D. Bokal

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  The Coltons of Kansas

  Colton’s Secret History

  Wyoming Nights

  Under the Agent’s Protection

  Rocky Mountain Justice

  Her Rocky Mountain Hero

  Her Rocky Mountain Defender

  Rocky Mountain Valor

  Visit the Author Profile page at

  Harlequin.com for more titles.

  To John, you are my forever and always

  Contents

  Prologue

  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 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Excerpt from Cavanaugh in Plain Sight by Marie Ferrarella

  Prologue

  The sun had not crested over the horizon, yet the sky was lightening by degrees, from ebony to charcoal to a smoky gray. The streetlights that lined Main Street had gone dark. The stores had yet to open. The town of Braxville had yet to wake.

  For Julia Jones, it was the best time of the day.

  She waited in her car, the engine idling and the heat turned to full blast. A sacked lunch, packed by her mother, sat on the passenger seat. And Julia herself held a pen and notebook. The solitude was a blessing and she began—as she always did—writing a letter.

  Luke,

  It’s been months since we last talked, but I want you to know that I love you still. I know that neither one of us can help our separation. I miss you just the same. Yesterday, I saw a commercial—the one with the cat playing the piano. Have you seen it? Do you think it’s all done with computers or was the cat trained? Either way, it made me laugh. And whenever I’m happy, I think of you.

  When do you think we’ll be able to see each other again? I know you’re busy, but I just miss you so much and would do anything to be with you right this minute.

  I’ll write you again tomorrow.

  As always, you have all of my love,

  Julia

  She ripped the page from her journal. After folding it into thirds, she shoved the paper into an envelope and opened the door. Julia ran across the street, the sound of her footfalls on the pavement mingled with the ding, ding, ding of her car’s sensor.

  A blue mailbox sat on the curb. Julia set her purse atop the box as she found a pen for addressing her letter.

  “Luke Walker,” she wrote, before adding several hearts around his name.

  From her bag, she also removed a roll of tape. A piece of tape was placed at the top of the envelope, and she stuck it to the front door of Walker Hardware. Her hand lingered on the plain white envelope as her heart raced.

  “I will always love you, Luke,” she said, her whispered words forming into a cloud of steam.

  Her work done, Julia returned to her warm car and waited.

  Like always, Luke Walker exited through the door next to the hardware store that led to several apartments. Though she’d never been invited to his house, Julia knew that Luke lived above the store—along with three other apartments he let out to rent.

  Luke wore a red sweatshirt and a pair of black running shorts—an inadvisable decision given the morning’s chill. Julia reached for her journal and made a note that she needed to remind Luke to dress for the weather.

  Reaching his arms overhead, he twisted his torso. Left, right. Right, left. He bent at the waist and touched his toes. Slipping earbuds into his ears, Luke took the first few steps of his jog.

  Julia pressed her hands to her mouth, breathless with excitement. This was the moment.

  Luke stumbled to a stop. His blue eyes narrowed, his gaze directed at the letter.

  He removed the envelope from the door and the paper from the envelope. Rubbing a hand on his days-old beard, he scanned the page before crumpling both in his fist. He took off at a jog once again and threw Julia’s letter into a garbage can as he passed.

 
; Her eyes filled with tears.

  He’d seen her letter. He’d read it.

  They were connected and he loved her still.

  It wasn’t the way it had been the last time, when Julia felt such a strong connection to the handsome actor in all the spy movies. She’d met Luke Walker, an important man in Braxville. Luke had taken her to the movies and to play mini-golf and out for ice cream.

  Nor would this relationship end the same way it had with the actor.

  Where Julia had gone to the Southern California studio, then to an agent’s office, then to the actor’s home. Her visit had ended when the police came and found her sitting on the kitchen floor. She was covered in blood, like hot silk, and pressed the knife to her own chest.

  After that, she went to the hospital in California where days turned to weeks and weeks became months. Eventually, the scars on her wrists were nothing more than silver threads.

  Her mother never said anything to anyone. Nobody in Braxville knew where she’d gone—or why.

  She was home now and better than ever.

  Using the side-view mirror, she watched Luke sprint down the street. Even from the back, she could tell that his blond hair was damp with sweat. His strides were long. He was taller than the actor. And sure, there were other differences—Luke’s teeth weren’t as straight or as white. His arms were toned, but not as well muscled as the actor’s. Yet, they shared the same dark blond hair color. The same shade of eyes. The straight nose and well-defined jaw. In fact, there were so many similarities that they could be brothers.

  The doctors had been right about relationships. Julia had to personally know someone in order to love them—and to be loved in return.

  And, oh my, she did know Luke Walker. She knew his schedule. She knew how he liked to play the same game with her every morning. He’d always read her note quickly, careful to throw it away and keep their affair a secret. That was how Julia knew the two of them were fated to be together.

  Moreover, Julia also knew that nothing and no one would ever keep them apart.

  Chapter 1

  Bridgette Colton stood in her childhood bedroom and rubbed her forehead. It wasn’t yet 7:30 a.m. and a headache had started. Already, she knew her day was going to be tumultuous. Through the floorboards came the clear sound of her parents arguing.

  “I see here that you’ve ordered thirty half-racks of ribs?” said her father, Fitz Colton, bringing the topic around to the menu for the Colton barbecue and bonfire. “Are you expecting the family or a battalion from the Kansas National Guard.”

  Her mother, Lilly, replied, “We have all six kids coming. Jordana and Brooks both have new romantic partners and plan to bring them. Markus Dexter and his wife, Mary, will be here. Shep is back in town. You and me. A few neighbors. Other friends. Colleagues from your work. That’s a lot of people to feed, Fitz.”

  Her father said, “Did you see what the caterer is charging for all of this?”

  “Fine,” said her mother. “I’ll call back and switch the order to chicken. It’s only half of the price.”

  “Well, then we look cheap.”

  “You are being cheap,” her mother replied, her words an arrow hitting the target.

  Bridgette groaned. It was a Tuesday, the day after the October holiday and the beginning of her work week.

  Beyond being back in her parents’ home—and not in her apartment in Wichita—the day was far from typical. Her newest assignment as an investigator with the Kansas State Department of Health began today. She’d been tasked with discovering why so many men in Braxville had developed a rare esophageal cancer over the years.

  Discovering what had caused each illness was more than finding a needle in a haystack. It was locating the right haystack in the first place.

  “What do you mean we can’t order a dessert?” her mother asked, Lilly’s voice an octave below shrill.

  Bridgette had yet to unpack her suitcase. Setting it on her unmade bed, she rummaged through her belongings until she found a bottle of OTC pain reliever. She swallowed pills without the benefit of water. As they landed in her gut, she thanked her lucky stars that she was meeting her sisters, Jordana and Yvette, for breakfast. It gave Bridgette the perfect excuse for leaving early.

  Bounding down the stairs, she entered the kitchen. Her mother still wore her plaid dressing gown and sat at the long, wooden kitchen island. A mug of coffee was cupped between her hands. Standing as Bridgette entered, she set the cup aside. “Good morning, darling. You look so pretty today.”

  Pretty? In khakis, a cream blouse and a rust-colored cardigan, she hoped to look neat, professional, competent. Then again, her mother always had a ready compliment and Bridgette’s chest filled with affection. “Thanks, Mom,” she said, accepting the praise.

  Her mother asked, “How did you sleep?”

  “Pretty good,” she said. “But I have to get going. It’s a long drive into town.”

  “You can’t leave without breakfast,” said Lilly. “I’ll whip up something in no time. What do you want? Pancakes? I picked up everything for French toast, if you’d like.”

  “Actually,” said Bridgette. “I’m getting breakfast in town.”

  Her mother’s smile faded. “Oh.”

  Guilt gripped Bridgette’s heart and squeezed. She tried to understand her parents’ situation. It was easy to imagine that with all six kids grown and gone, her mother and father had nothing to do besides ramble around in the big house and gripe at each other.

  It was a problem she would fix if she could.

  Then again, even if she couldn’t repair her parents’ marriage, she could certainly spend more time with her mother. “Hey, Mom. Can I come home at lunch tomorrow? We can look over the menu you’re planning for the bonfire.”

  Her mother’s smile returned. “I’d love that, honey.”

  Her father, sitting at the kitchen table, looked up from the Wichita morning paper. “Notice how she didn’t offer me pancakes or French toast?”

  “That’s because you said you were on a diet,” her mother snapped. “Would you like pancakes or French toast?”

  “Nope, but it would have been nice to have been asked.”

  Their arguing was a constant drumbeat, and Bridgette was never going to get rid of her headache if she stayed. At thirty years of age, she really was too old to be living at home. What had she been thinking by moving in with her parents—albeit temporarily? “I really do need to get going,” she began, while reaching for her tote bag, which had been draped over the back of a chair.

  “What is it that you’re doing at work?” her father asked, flicking his gaze at her from over the top of the paper.

  As if she were in middle school, obedient and looking for approval, her hand grazed the strap of her bag before she let it fall to her side. Her father already knew why she was here. This was his way of getting even more information. “It’s a cancer cluster. The state thinks it’s caused by something in the environment.”

  “Back in my day,” her father began, “if you got cancer it was just bad luck. Now, everyone has to blame someone, or something, for all their problems.”

  “This is a rare cancer,” said Bridgette. “One that is a little more than bad luck.”

  “It could be all the plastics. Your mother was telling me we need a new washing machine with a special filter. Says all of our clothes are made from plastics and little fibers come out in the wash.”

  Lilly nodded. “It’s horrible, Bridgette. The plastic ends up in the rivers and is eaten by the fish. Then we eat those very same fish—and the bits of plastic.”

  Her father harrumphed and folded the newspaper. “I say it’s a hoax started by the washing machine people to fleece folks out of their hard-earned money.”

  Her mother countered with, “I say there is no price tag on a healthy environment.”

 
“Okay, well, I love you both. Have a great day.” She quickly grabbed her bag and turned for the door.

  “Honey, you forgot these.” Her mother held up a plate covered in tinfoil. “I gave you half a dozen muffins. You can share them at work.”

  Share muffins? Maybe her parents really did think she was still in middle school. Still, it was a sweet gesture, and everyone loves food. Arriving with a plate of homemade muffins would help Bridgette with her new coworkers. “That’s very thoughtful, Mom.” Placing a kiss on her mother’s cheek, she continued, “I do love you both. I have to get going.”

  Bridgette walked from the kitchen and through the foyer. She opened the door and stepped outside, drawing in a deep breath.

  She’d come back to Braxville to discover what was causing all the cases of cancer in the area and that was still her top priority. Yet, now she had a new and more immediate goal. Bridgette had to find an apartment to rent—and soon.

  Thank goodness she was meeting her sisters. They both worked for the Braxville Police Department and knew the area. Hopefully, Jordana or Yvette could help. Because Bridgette knew one thing for sure—she could not stay at home.

  * * *

  Luke Walker stood behind the counter and stared at his computer. The screen was filled with his spreadsheet for last month’s sales at Walker Hardware. The numbers didn’t lie. Income was down for September, no doubt about it. What happened if the trend continued—especially since the upcoming winter months tended to be lean?

  Then again, the downtown businesses were less than two weeks away from hosting the annual fall-themed Braxville Boo-fest. Last year, he made more on that single Saturday than he did the whole month.

  The success spurred him to get involved, and he was the chairperson for this year’s costume parade. Aside from having an event for all of Braxville to enjoy, Luke hoped to draw a crowd from Wichita, which was only an hour away. He also hoped that those from the city would make a return trip—and shop.