Star Bright
Catherine Anderson
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Praise for the Romances of New York Times Bestselling Author Catherine Anderson
“Anderson comes up with another winner by deftly blending sweetness and sensuality in a poignantly written story.”
—Booklist
“Emotional and heartfelt, her stories make you believe in the power of love.”
—Debbie Macomber
“Catherine Anderson is an amazing talent.”
—Elizabeth Lowell
“Catherine Anderson has a gift for imbuing her characters with dignity, compassion, courage, and strength that inspire readers.”
—Romantic Times
“A major voice in the romance genre.”—Publishers Weekly
Morning Light
“Heart-tugger extraordinaire Anderson adds a touch of the paranormal to this poignant and richly rewarding chapter in her Harrigan family series. A subtext to this race-against-time tale is how faith and accepting extraordinary gifts are not mutually exclusive.”
—Romantic Times
“This is a story not to be missed. Morning Light delivers on all levels, and is a fantastic read that will touch readers at the very core of their being.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
Sun Kissed
“This smart, wholesome tale should appeal to any fan of traditional romance.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Vivid descriptions, realistic family relationships (especially the lively sibling banter), and a dash of suspense make this heartwarming, gently sensual romance a satisfying read.”
—Library Journal
“Another heartwarming chapter in the Coulter family saga is on tap in the always wonderful Anderson’s newest release. . . . Anderson is at her best when it comes to telling stories that are deeply emotional and heartfelt.”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars)
Summer Breeze
“Anderson understands the inner workings of the human soul so deeply that she’s able to put intense emotion within a stunning romance in such a way that you’ll believe in miracles. Add to this her beautiful writing style, memorable characters, and a timeless story, and you have an unmatched reading adventure.”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars)
“The kind of book that will snare you so completely, you’ll not want to put it down. It engages the intellect and emotions; it’ll make you care. It will also make you smile . . . a lot. And that’s a guarantee.”—Romance Reviews Today
My Sunshine
“Another winner from Anderson’s compassionate pen.”
—Library Journal
“Sweet and sensual.”
—Publishers Weekly
“With the author’s signature nurturing warmth and emotional depth, this beautifully written romance is a richly rewarding experience for any reader.”
—Booklist
Blue Skies
“Readers may need to wipe away tears . . . since few will be able to resist the power of this beautifully emotional, wonderfully romantic love story.”
—Booklist
“A keeper and a very strong contender for Best Contemporary Romance of the Year.”—Romance Reviews Today
Bright Eyes
“Offbeat family members and genuine familial love give a special lift to this marvelous story. An Anderson book is a guaranteed great read!”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars, top pick)
Only by Your Touch
“Ben Longtree is a marvelous hero whose extraordinary gifts bring a unique and special magic to this warmhearted novel. No one can tug your heartstrings better than Catherine Anderson.”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars, top pick)
Always in My Heart
“Emotionally involving, family-centered, and relationship-oriented, this story is a rewarding read.”
—Library Journal
“[A] superbly written contemporary romance, which features just the kind of emotionally nourishing, comfortably compassionate type of love story this author is known for creating.”
—Booklist
Sweet Nothings
“Pure reading magic.”
—Booklist
Phantom Waltz
“Anderson departs from traditional romantic stereotypes in this poignant, contemporary tale of a love that transcends all boundaries . . . romantic through and through.”
—Publishers Weekly
Other Novels by Catherine Anderson
“Harrigan Family” Novels
Morning Light
“Coulter Family” Novels
Phantom Waltz
Sweet Nothings
Blue Skies
Bright Eyes
My Sunshine
Summer Breeze
Sun Kissed
The Comanche Series
Comanche Moon
Other Signet Books
Always in My Heart
Only by Your Touch
SIGNET
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
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First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,
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First Printing, January 2009
Copyright © Adeline Catherine Anderson, 2009
All rights reserved
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
eISBN : 978-1-101-02210-8
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
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In memory of my mother, Nory, whose light still shines in the hearts of those who love her.
Prologue
Rainie Hall Danning paused after exiting the ship elevator onto the third deck. Her whole body trembled with nerves, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse against the wall for a moment to gather her composure. But she didn’t dare, not with cameras hidden everywhere. Just start walking. Act normal. Every move you make may be recorded. Upstairs inside the posh ladies’ lounge, where electronic surveillance was forbidden, she had altered her appearance. Now she wore a stretchy black sheath, an Elvira wig, brown contacts, black cat-eye glasses, and so much makeup that her face felt stiff. Tasteless but effective. No one who saw her later on film would recognize her as the wealthy and elegant Lorraina Danning who’d gone to dinner wearing a sequined evening gown and a forty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace.
Yearning to run, Rainie walked slowly along the corridor, shoulders back, chin held high. No ducking her head to hide her face. Her friend Janet had assured her only minutes ago that this disguise was good enough to withstand close scrutiny later. Oh, God, oh, God. Was it possible that she and her friend were actually going to pull this off? Rainie stifled a hysterical urge to laugh. Now dressed as Lorraina Danning, Janet was somewhere on an upper deck, moving toward a camera-free area where she could duck into a closet, change clothes, and emerge as herself.
Rainie’s heart slammed with every footfall, and cold sweat filmed her body. The ceiling of the hallway, which seemed endlessly long, felt low and oppressive. With every breath she took, she prayed she wouldn’t hear the elevator doors slide open behind her. Her husband, Peter, seemed to have a sixth sense where she was concerned, enabling him to guess what her next move was going to be, sometimes even before she knew herself. If he caught her . . . Oh, God, she couldn’t let herself think about that. She needed to stay calm, keep a clear head. Just one little mistake could ruin everything.
The numbered plaques beside the cabin doorways swam in Rainie’s vision. Where was 3056? Her back tingled, and an awful burning sensation had taken up residence right between her shoulder blades. She glanced back, half expecting to see her husband—tall, elegant, sophisticated Peter, whose kindly demeanor and gentle smile fooled everyone. The hallway behind her was empty. She was still safe, and she would stay that way if she could just find the damned room.
It seemed as if she covered the length of a football field before she reached the right cabin. She fumbled with clammy fingers for the plastic key card that she’d slipped inside the bodice of her dress. Hurry, hurry. Glancing up and down the corridor to make sure Peter hadn’t suddenly appeared, she shoved the card into the slot. Nothing. She realized the card was upside down and inserted it again. At last the little green light came on. Frantic to vanish, she almost fell into the room. After closing the door, she collapsed against an interior wall, trembling so violently that her knees threatened to buckle.
The housekeeping staff had flipped on the lights and left clever towel sculptures on the turned-down bed. The room was cramped compared to the royal suite on deck ten, where she’d dressed for dinner earlier. There was barely walking room between the queen-size bed and the ocean-view window. Opposite the sitting area, which consisted of only a short couch and a coffee table, the wall was lined with storage cabinetry, a built-in vanity, and a closet. But to Rainie, the accommodations looked wonderful—a small hidey-hole where she would be safe from her husband.
When she recovered enough to move, she hooked the Do Not Disturb sign over the outside door lever. Then she began stripping off the dress as she approached the suitcase on the couch. Though a claustrophobic breathlessness made her lungs hitch, she needed to shower and cover her body with sunless tanning lotion before she went out on the balcony to gulp fresh air. Having dark skin was part of her disguise, and the colorant might take a few hours to work. From this moment forward, Lorraina Ann Danning had ceased to exist, and Anna Pritchard had taken her place.
Rainie’s friend Janet, who worked aboard this ship, had kept her promise. The suitcase contained everything Rainie would need to make good her escape—black leather and denim clothing, a silver-studded belt, chunky boots, lots of Goth-style jewelry, oversize sunglasses, fake tattoos, makeup, the tanning lotion, and all the necessary fraudulent identification. Rainie fingered a roll of cash tucked into a storage pocket, stared with burning eyes at a Visa card imprinted with her alias, and sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving that she’d been blessed with such wonderful friends. All set and ready to go. Now she had only to keep her head down for the next seven days until the ship returned to Seattle.
Rainie stepped into the small bathroom to shower. By the time she’d finished washing off the expensive French perfume that Peter insisted she wear, her skin smarted, yet it seemed to her the scent lingered. His mark. Needing to get it off, she scrubbed with soap again, and then again. Finally she came to accept that her compulsive urge to scour until her skin felt raw stemmed more from emotional reasons than her sense of smell. She wanted—no, needed—to get everything she associated with Peter Danning out of her life.
After toweling dry, Rainie smoothed the tanning lotion over her body and then scrubbed her hands clean before tugging the Elvira wig back on. Before slipping into a white terry guest robe she’d found in the closet, she reinserted the brown contacts and outlined her mouth with purplish black lipstick. Only then did she feel it was safe to step out onto the balcony to cleanse her lungs with the moist sea air. As she gripped the railing and fixed her gaze on the sinking globe of orange on the western horizon, the night breeze whipped the synthetic strands of pitch-black hair across her face.
Peter would be looking for her by now, going first to the ladies’ room and then possibly to their suite. When he failed to find her, how long would he wait before raising an alarm? My wife is missing. Her earlier urge to laugh had now been replaced by fear. What if a search of all the cabins was executed? If anyone could make the ship’s captain and crew hop to, it was the rich and influential Peter Danning. By morning, law enforcement teams would descend on the vessel to unravel the mystery of Lorraina Danning’s disappearance.
Rainie forced herself to think positively. If they came to her quarters, they would find only an awkward, sunbaked young woman with brown eyes, an Elvira hairdo, and weird-looking clothes. No one would suspect anything.
In only moments, darkness would descend. To Rainie, who’d so frequently gone to the theater with her husband over the last two years, the sunset seemed symbolic. The curtain was falling. The nightmare her life had become was over, and the next act was about to begin.
Bright with promise, tomorrow beckoned. Rainie had once endured a horrible beating for dropping one of Peter’s precious crystal goblets, so it had seemed almost prophetic to her when she’d found a rural town called Crystal Falls on an Oregon map. It appealed to her sense of irony. When the crystal falls, Lorraina may die. So that was her destination, Crystal Falls. She had no idea what difficulties she might face when she got there. She knew only that anything would be better than what she’d just left behind.
Chapter One
The ticking of a teapot clock and the hum of an ancient refrigerator were the only sounds to fill the silence in Rainie’s one-story duplex, which she’d rented only a week ago and equipped on the cheap. Mismatched dishes, eating utensils, and cookware graced the freshly scrubbed shelves and drawers of the outdated kitchen. Thrift-shop throw rugs covered worn areas in the speckled linoleum, which she’d scoured and waxed on her hands and knees. In
spots, she’d washed the walls with such vigor that she’d removed the paint, but now all the surfaces were clean and each room sported a sparse collection of secondhand furniture.
Since the house and everything in it was old, Rainie had aimed for a 1950s look, purchasing inexpensive wall art, doilies, dresser scarves, decorative pillows, and cozy throws from Goodwill to camouflage nicks, gouges, and holes in the upholstery. The result was comfortable and quaintly attractive, a place that Rainie could call home until her circumstances improved.
Improving her circumstances was the main focus of her attention right now. Long strands of curly brown hair streaked with blond, compliments of a home perm and frost job, fell forward over her face as she perused the Help Wanted section of the Crystal Falls newspaper. The table at which she sat, made of ancient chrome and Formica, with one bent leg and four vinyl-cushioned chairs, wobbled slightly every time she moved. To steady her writing surface, she pressed down with her elbows as she circled each job possibility.
So far, all she’d found of real interest was a bookkeeping position at a ranch. The other opportunities either held little appeal or required training she didn’t have. Still, she flagged the dismal maybes. Her funds, loaned to her by friends, would soon run out. Flipping hamburgers might not be very glamorous, but forty hours a week at minimum wage would help pay the rent and some of her utilities.
