 Never Love A Stranger By Nancy Madison Thunder rumbled and lightning streaked across the late winter skies that morning while rain poured down on Pollard Park, an older suburb of Richmond, Virginia. Julie Taylor opened the front door and stepped out on the porch. Taking a deep breath, she raised her collapsible umbrella and ventured into the storm. The small umbrella provided little protection, and soon her jeans stuck to her body like a wet, uncomfortable second skin. Her soggy Reeboks swished with every step she took. "Misty! Misty!" Tired and frustrated, Julie called her elderly Schnauzer until she was hoarse. The dog had wandered away before the storm hit, while Julie was unloading her car. The last straw came in the form of a strong gust of wind that turned her umbrella inside out. In less than a minute, the rain had plastered her hair to her head and soaked her shoulders. Despite all of her efforts, Misty didn't appear. "You should have paid more attention to her." Julie scolded herself. "You know how she likes to roam." Soaked to the skin, Julie gave up, temporarily. With sinking spirits, she turned around and headed back the way she'd come. Maybe the dog had found shelter from the storm or returned home. Julie reentered the rental house, dropped the damaged umbrella in the foyer then kicked off her soggy shoes. Watching where she stepped, she climbed the stairs. Like the rest of the older frame house, the tired burgundy carpet with its ragged edges had been better days. The last thing she wanted to do was catch her foot in the carpet and take a tumble. In the spacious if dated bathroom, the white tiled walls and old-fashioned footed tub seemed to invite her to take a long, leisurely soak. Relieved to take off her soggy jeans and sweater, she heaped them in a corner then turned on the hot water faucet and waited. Nothing! She frowned and twisted the cold water faucet. That worked fine. "Damn. I don't know what's wrong with this stupid plumbing but the realtor is going to hear from me. "Oh, well. Pretend you're back at Girl Scout camp. Cold showers never bothered you then." With a shrug, Julie stepped into the tub and turned on the shower. The icy fingers of cold water didn't encourage her to linger. Moments later, she got out, dried herself, and slipped on her flannel robe. She hugged the robe to her cold body and walked into the bedroom she'd claimed to get dressed. A lump formed in her throat at the mental image that had haunted her since Misty slipped away--a lost, frightened, little dog out in the rain. Maybe a kindhearted neighbor had found her pet. As soon as the storm passed, she'd go out again and conduct a more thorough search. While Julie stood in front of a wall mirror in the bedroom, trying to unsnarl her wet, tangled hair, the doorbell chimed. Who could that be? Experience had taught her to be cautious so she didn't rush to the door. The bell chimed again and again until she ran barefoot downstairs. At the front door, she paused. Just two people in Richmond knew she'd arrive that day and neither of them would visit her at home. She peered through the peephole on the door but couldn't see anything. At last, curiosity got the better of her and she pulled the heavy door open. Startled by what she saw, she sucked in her breath and stepped back. A tall, blue-eyed man stood on her front porch with Misty in his arms. His dark auburn hair sparkled with raindrops. "Hello." She recognized him right away but gave no sign. "I'm Paul Martin from next door. Are you the new tenant?" "Why, yes. I'm Julie Taylor." The good looking guy whose photograph she had studied more than once was the last person she'd expected to find on her doorstep. Later, she would've made an excuse to go next door and meet him. "I found this dog on my front porch. Is she yours?" He patted Julie's pet and Misty licked his hand. "She sure is! Thanks for bringing her home." Julie reached for her soggy canine. Paul clutched the bedraggled dog against his chest and wagged his finger at her. "You ought to be more careful. Your pooch could've strayed into traffic and been hit by a car. This's a busy street." As if to prove his point, a ramshackle vehicle raced up the hill, splashing water to the sides of the street. "Look, I don't need a lecture." Who does this jerk think he is? "She slipped out while I was unloading my car. She must have wandered off, then the storm hit and I couldn't find her." Julie again reached for her pet and this time he surrendered the Schnauzer. "Are you okay?" Julie checked her beloved pet's body for signs of injury and found none. She must be more tired than she'd realized. She'd just been rude to the person who rescued Misty. Besides, Paul Martin was the last person she wanted to antagonize. He was the reason she'd moved to Richmond. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be impolite. Thanks for bringing her home." "It's all right." His voice warmed, became friendlier. "I shouldn't have scolded you. I can see you care for her. It's just that so many people neglect their pets. "Well, if you've just arrived, you must have a million things to do. Keep an eye on her, okay?" Brushing wet dog hair from his navy sweater, he patted Misty's head then stepped off the porch. Before Julie could reply, he'd slushed across the soggy lawns and entered the neighboring house. Closing the door, Julie addressed the wet bundle in her arms. "Well, he sure isn't what I expected. After I get unpacked, I'll go over and thank him again. The sooner I get to know him, the better." Julie rubbed her pet with a towel and laid her in the dog bed she'd brought from her condo outside Washington, D.C. The one-bedroom unit had been her home for four years since she'd graduated from college. "Now stay there and you'll be dry soon." A few minutes later, she returned to the den with several dog biscuits and enticed Misty to eat them. With a sigh, the Schnauzer curled up in her bed. The fragrance of wet fur filled the air. Perched on the brick hearth, her shoulders soaked up the warmth of the fire while Julie studied the room. The worn carpet and the armchair near the television indicated the deceased owner of the house had spent a lot of time here. Of course, it didn't matter what kind of place it was. She was here to do a job. Still, she was grateful to be somewhere warm, dry, and relatively comfortable on a rainy cold night. The old man's son, a State Department employee, had been delighted to lease the house, furnished. Eager to return to his overseas assignment, he'd removed his father's personal effects then turned the house over to her. Impatient to make a fresh start, she'd still use all of her expertise in the days ahead. "Always do your best." That was one ethic her father had instilled in her, and one she strived to uphold. Thinking of him brought an ache to her heart. Six weeks ago today he'd died of a massive heart attack. She missed the man who'd been both father and best friend. With a sigh, she pushed back the ripple of loneliness that slid into the room and threatened to overcome her. Better get settled in now. This is home until you're finished here. She lugged her suitcases upstairs to the bedroom she'd claimed and hoisted them onto the four-poster bed. While catching her breath, Julie gazed at the room. A glass case of dolls and the pastel draperies and comforter soothed her, reminded her of her bedroom when she was a child. Misty wandered into the room and begged until Julie picked her up and placed her on the foot of the bed. Worn out by her adventure, the old dog wasted no time in falling asleep. Soon, her soft snores broke the silence. While she unpacked, Julie thought of Paul Martin next door. She had to admit he was the best looking man she'd met in a long time. Get a grip on yourself. He's a good-looking hunk, but you've seen handsome men before this. Finding a suspect attractive is just another sign you need to get out of law enforcement. But as she hung her clothes in the large double closet, she remembered her neighbor's light blue eyes, reserved smile, and the cleft in his chin.
Nancy Madison, a former corporate librarian for an international
accounting and consulting firm in Dallas, is the author of Never Love A
Stranger and Clues To Love.
"Julie Taylor, just four years out of college, follows her late father's footsteps and becomes a police officer. Now she's working on an important case. Nobody calls it a murder case yet but Shelia, the vanished wife who was in the process of divorcing her husband Paul was the victim of some kind of foul play originating with her husband. That's Shelia's stepmother's theory. She pounds her theory home to anyone who'll listen. Julie has trouble seeing Paul as a wife-killer. Her police sense tells her something's definitely wrong with the picture her police partner insists on seeing, Paul as a murderer. But her sense as a woman tells her a few things,too and it's getting harder to retain her objectivity about the man whose touch makes her tingle. It seems to work that way for Paul,too. Thanks to author Nancy Madison's ability to clearly describe her characters and the settings in which they function, no reader wil have a problem keeping up with the twists and turns Julie's case takes. And there are some bizarre twists and turns, as Julie's police training and her womanly instincts take her on the trail of a real murderer, and leaves her open to being the murderer's next victim. This novel is what's called in some circles a "page-turner," meaning you
will read just as fast as you are able, because you can't wait to find out
what's going to happen next in this engrossing adventure. Enjoy."—
Review by Jean Goldstrum, ebooksfanfare.com
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