Excerpt: 'Barefoot in Pearls' by Roxanne St. Claire

HEA is thrilled to share an excerpt from book three in Roxanne St. Claire's Barefoot Bay Brides series, Barefoot in Pearls (arriving Friday!). Here's the scoop (courtesy of Roxanne) …

With her two best friends and business partners happily engaged, Arielle Chandler's HEA seems elusive. She's beginning to wonder if the promise of "The One" — one true love, meant only for her — is merely folklore passed down from her Native American grandmother. But when a mysterious man nearly mows her down on a hill overlooking Barefoot Bay, the legend of destined love suddenly feels very real.

Luke isn't proud of the fact that he spent 10 years as a mercenary warrior, fighting battles for another country. With those dark days behind him, he's focused on creating a new life instead of destroying others, so he's moved to Barefoot Bay to build a house for an old friend. But when an enigmatic dark-eyed beauty steals his attention and stops his progress with her announcement that he is about to flatten a native burial ground, Luke has a new battle to fight … and this one could cost them both the love of a lifetime.

EXCERPT

The man almost smiled, just enough to hint at dimples and straight white teeth. Just enough to take the edge off his face and turn it into something arresting. She needed to look away, but all she could do was blink at the white lights flashing behind her eyes.

Had she hit her head when he knocked her over or...or...oh, no. No. No, this wasn't possible…was it? Could he be The One?

"No," she murmured.

"No…what?" he asked, leaning in closer. "It's okay, I can check the place out. I have the owner's permission." He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her. "Do you?"

"No, this isn't…you can't be..." But he could be. This could be the universe answering her plea…or the handiwork of a wild imagination. Which was it?

For one long, suspended second, the world around her crystallized, making her hyperaware of every color, scent, and sound. Everything was magnified. Like the slow roll of a bead of sweat trickling over a scar on his temple. And the flecks of color that somehow mixed to make his eyes a haunting blend of emerald and topaz. Even the timbre of his voice, baritone and sweet, and the rhythmic huffs of his breaths as the run caught up with him all sounded like music to her ears. He smelled like sunshine and the sea, and his hand, still wrapped around her wrist, was like a hot brand of man against her skin.

Everything about him was…right.

"Miss?"

She tried to nod at him, letting the very real possibility of what was happening sink in.

"Hey." He snapped his fingers in front of her face, making her jump. "Do you know your name?" he asked sharply.

"Arielle Chandler."

"Place of birth?"

"Sacramento, California."

"Husband's name?"

"I don't have one."

His eyes flickered. "Phone number?"

She didn't answer, but not because she couldn't remember the number. But because his smile went from almost to full force, and the impact actually hurt.

She could practically hear Grandma Good Bear describing exactly these feelings.

"No way!" She shook her head, still not believing it.

"Hey, it was worth a try." Still smiling, he leaned back on his haunches. "Since you're coherent enough to turn me down, you must be okay, Arielle Chandler from Sacramento, California." Then he let his gaze drop over her. "Yeah, you're fine."

And all those dancing cells in her body tripped and flatlined.

After a few seconds, he scooped up his sunglasses and stood. "And, by the way, if you don't have the owner's permission, you won't be able to come here when construction starts."

She looked up at him, digging deep for some semblance of sanity and cool, when all she wanted to do was grab his jaw and stare into his eyes and figure out if he was her future...

Wait a second. "Did you say construction?"

"That old hovel that got messed up in Hurricane Damien? It's history, along with this hill, which the owner said would block his water view when he builds his house. Well, when I build it for him."

Another, different kind of buzz hummed through her head. "It's history?" Her gaze shifted to the right, to the string of pearls not an inch away. Yes, it was history. Ancient, hallowed history. "How can you get rid of a hill?" Especially when it might not be a "hill" at all?

He lifted one mighty shoulder. "With a backhoe." He wiped some sweat from his brow and shifted his gaze to the water. "I wish we could put the house up here for the best view, but there are crazy-strict rules about how close you can build to the shoreline."

And rules about protected land, rules she'd heard about a hundred times from her grandmother. "You can't just backhoe this hill."

"One of my subs will, and soon." He angled his head and looked closely at her, his stare so intent her heart ached like it was...expanding.

Expanding to make room for the man who wanted to destroy what might be sacred ground? What would Grandma Good Bear have to say about that?

"You positive you're okay?" he asked.

No, no, she was not okay. Not at all. "Yes," she lied glibly.

"Maybe I'll, uh, run into you again." He winked and slid on his sunglasses. "Next time I'll have my eyes open."

As he took off, she stared at his physique, the back every bit as mouthwatering as the front. Her fingers brushed the pearls next to her, and a different, visceral tug tightened her chest.

She'd have to find out the truth about these pearls and this land. And if it turned out she was sitting on a Native American burial ground, this man would not bulldoze it away.

Even if he was The One.

Find out more about Roxanne and her books at www.roxannestclaire.com.