Perfect Timing Read online

  Praise for the Romances

  of Catherine Anderson

  “Anderson comes up with another winner by deftly blending sweetness and sensuality in a poignantly written story.”

  —Booklist

  “Catherine Anderson has a gift for imbuing her characters with dignity, compassion, courage, and strength that inspire readers.”

  —Romantic Times

  Coming Up Roses

  “An extraordinary novel. Poignant, moving, rich in character, and deeply emotional. A keeper.”

  —Romantic Times

  Lucky Penny

  “Anderson returns to her historical roots with a stirring, beautifully rendered story of the power of family, love, and trust. Her knack for creating real stories turns her books into ‘keepers’ and her readers into the kind of fans who will eagerly await her next book.”

  —Romantic Times (4½ Stars)

  Comanche Magic

  “Catherine Anderson is an extraordinary talent. She has a voice that is gritty and tender, realistic and romantic, and always unique.”

  —Elizabeth Lowell

  Here to Stay

  “Another wonderful, very emotional story of the Harrigan family.”

  —Romantic Times

  Indigo Blue

  “A marvelous, moving, poignant, and sensual love story. . . . Ms. Anderson holds her readers spellbound.”

  —Romantic Times

  Early Dawn

  “Never stinting on the harsh reality inherent in the setting, the author tempers the roughness with a powerful love story and remarkable characters. She draws out every emotion and leaves readers with a true understanding of life and love.”

  —Romantic Times

  Comanche Heart

  “Riveting, passionate, and powerful . . . everything a romance should be.”

  —Amanda Quick

  Star Bright

  “Catherine Anderson brilliantly grabbed my attention right away with a brainy tale of intrigue . . . an emotionally moving and romantic treat that you’re sure to enjoy.”

  —Night Owl Romance (Top Pick)

  Morning Light

  “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

  “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

  “With the author’s signature nurturing warmth and emotional depth, this beautifully written romance is a richly rewarding experience for any reader.”

  —Booklist

  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)

  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

  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 . . . 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

  Star Bright

  Here to Stay

  Perfect Timing

  Contemporary Coulter Family Novels

  Phantom Waltz

  Sweet Nothings

  Blue Skies

  Bright Eyes

  My Sunshine

  Sun Kissed and Sun Kissed Bonus Book

  Historical Coulter Family Novels

  Summer Breeze

  Early Dawn

  Lucky Penny

  The Comanche Series

  Comanche Moon

  Comanche Heart

  Indigo Blue

  Comanche Magic

  Other Signet Books

  Always in My Heart

  Only by Your Touch

  Coming Up Roses

  Catherine Anderson

  A HARRIGAN FAMILY NOVEL

  Perfect Timing

  SIGNET

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 707 Collins Street, Melbourne, Victoria 3008, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi–110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books, Rosebank Office Park, 181 Jan Smuts Avenue, Parktown North 2193, South Africa

  Penguin China, B7 Jiaming Center, 27 East Third Ring Road North, Chaoyang District, Beijing 100020, China

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Copyright © Adeline Catherine Anderson, 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either a
re the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Contents

  Praise

  Also by Catherine Anderson

  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

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  To my husband, Sid,

  who appeared in my life with “perfect timing.”

  Chapter One

  Quincy Harrigan’s riding boots offered poor traction on the patches of ice-encrusted snow, which in the faint light of predawn looked bluish white on his scraggly front lawn. Carefully holding a mug of coffee in one hand, he picked his way between two muddy ranch vehicles, wondering when his dooryard had become a parking lot for pickups, the tractor, and two dented ATVs. Walking with his head bent, he realized his hair had gotten so long that it dangled in a dark brown hank over his left eye. Damn. He’d been out of town and missed his appointment with the barber. Rescheduling was out of the question. From one day to the next, he didn’t know when he’d have to leave again, and while he was here, he was far too busy to drive clear into town for a walk-in visit. It was a wonder he even managed to grab a few hours of sleep. This morning, he felt the exhaustion in every muscle of his body, and he seriously doubted the freshly brewed French roast would give him the jolt of energy he needed.

  No matter. Compared to his sister-in-law Loni, he had little reason to complain. At least he wasn’t fighting for his life. The thought made his heart twist, and the lump that seemed to have taken up permanent residence at the base of his throat throbbed like a toothache. He stopped to gaze across his ranch, taking in the huge taupe-colored arena that loomed over all the smaller buildings. Twenty years ago, this had been an empty piece of land, signed over to him by his father. Now, just having turned forty, Quincy saw the story of his adult life in every structure, fence post, and nail. This ranch had been his dream since childhood, but now that he’d accomplished everything he’d planned, all he felt was empty.

  Why Loni? The question had haunted his every waking moment for the past month—ever since the doctor here in Crystal Falls, Oregon, had first uttered the word leukemia and referred Loni to specialists at the Knight Cancer Institute in Portland. How was it fair that Loni had been the one stricken with such a serious illness? Quincy’s brother Clint worshiped the ground she walked on. She had two children who needed her. By comparison, no one really depended on him.

  Quincy blinked away tears and forced his feet to move again. Loni wasn’t going to die, damn it. She was young, and up until two months ago, when she’d sickened with what everyone thought was the flu, she’d been the picture of health. There were surely treatments available for whatever kind of leukemia she had. Nearly every day, people were either cured or put into remission. It was silly of him to be thinking such gloomy thoughts. And he sure as hell didn’t have time for them. Everyone else in the family except his sister Sam, who had volunteered to care for Clint and Loni’s kids, was in Portland to lend their support, and while it was Quincy’s turn to stay here, looking after all six ranches, he had to make sure everything ran smoothly. It was a hell of a job for one man, but both Parker and Zach had been trading off with him, and he hadn’t yet heard either of them complain. He wouldn’t, either.

  Halfway to the arena, Quincy stopped to take a swig of coffee, hoping the hot slide of liquid would lessen the ache in his chest. Fat chance. He couldn’t think of Loni without struggling to breathe. When had he come to love her like a sister? At first, just being around her had given him the willies. A bona fide clairvoyant who worked closely with the FBI to locate missing children, Loni could get flashes of a person’s past, present, or future by a mere touch of hands. Like most men, Quincy had a private life, and there were certain aspects of it that he preferred not to share with anyone. It had bothered him to think that Loni might see him with a woman in an X-rated moment.

  Now, after coming to know Loni, Quincy realized that whatever she saw when they made physical contact was immediately buried deep within her. She had no desire to inflict harm or embarrassment with her gift of second sight. Over time, Quincy had stopped worrying about that. If Loni had ever seen him during an intensely private moment, she’d never let on, and he’d finally come to trust that she would never breathe a word of it to anyone, not even to Clint. After that, growing to love her hadn’t been a big jump for him.

  Now it was a done deal. He could almost see her, big blue eyes dominating a heart-shaped face framed by a wealth of dark, glossy hair. Pretty. But, more important, she was every bit as sweet and dear as she appeared to be. No wonder Clint suddenly looked as if he’d been run over by a semitruck, his burnished face tinted with undertones of gray, his brown eyes, so like Quincy’s own, filled with inexpressible worry and pain. Clint adored his children, but it was Loni who was the true center of his life. Without her, how would he go on? Just thinking about it made Quincy’s stomach roil.

  Though March had finally arrived, the air was so cold it burned Quincy’s lungs when he drew a deep breath. He wished he’d thought to grab his lined Levi’s jacket before leaving the house. Icy fingers curled over his shirt collar and sent a chill crawling down his spine. From the holding sheds, he heard equines neighing and grunting, their way of calling for breakfast. The sound helped to center him and clear his head. He had animals counting on him, and he’d best kick it into high gear.

  Just as Quincy reached the berm of snow that had collected over the winter under the eaves of the arena, his cell phone emitted the sound of a horse whinnying, a tone reserved only for members of his family. As he jerked the device from his belt, he half expected to see his dad’s name on the screen. Frank had rented a hotel suite near the cancer institute, and he and his wife had been at Clint’s side ever since Loni had been admitted there. Always an early riser, Frank often buzzed Quincy to give him an update before the sun came up.

  Quincy’s pulse stuttered when he saw that the caller was Clint. “Hey, Clint,” he said. “How is she?”

  Silence. Then Clint’s voice came over the air, wobbly and hoarse. “It’s bad, Quincy. Real bad. I just talked with the team of specialists taking care of Loni.”

  Quincy had never heard Clint sound so shaken. “At this hour?” It was all Quincy could think to say—a futile attempt to sound normal when his brother’s world might be tipping off its axis. “I thought only ranchers were crazy enough to start work this early.”

  “They’re busy men, and a lot of lives are in their hands.” Clint swallowed. The sound came through to Quincy, a hollow plunk that painted a picture he didn’t want to see. “Loni has acute myelogenous leukemia, a very aggressive strain that’s often unresponsive to treatment. The doctors say they told me the name of it a while back, but apparently it went in one ear and out the other.”

  Quincy wanted to ask Clint more questions, but he sensed that his brother needed to get this said without interruption.

  “Now they’ve finally determined her AML subtype. I guess they had a devil of a time doing that—something about the AML morphology under a microscope not matching up quite right with any other cancers they’ve seen.”

  “What’re you saying,
Clint—that she’s got one-of-a-kind leukemia?”

  “Something like that. By now the doctors would be willing to settle for a close match just to begin treatment. Problem is, she’s so far gone it’s way too late for remission induction therapy. Her platelet counts are too low for her to undergo chemo or a bone marrow transplant.”

  “Whoa.” Quincy stepped over the pile of snow to lean a shoulder against the eastern exterior wall of the arena. Quelling rising panic, he managed, “If she’s too sick for either of those, what kind of treatment can they give her?”

  Quincy’s blood ran as cold as the crystallized air when he heard Clint sob. He could not recall ever having seen or heard his oldest brother cry as an adult. “Nothing,” Clint said brokenly. “There’s . . . nothing . . . they . . . can do. At best, they give her . . . a week or two . . . but it’ll be a miracle if she holds on that long.”

  The mug of coffee slipped from Quincy’s hand. He flinched as hot liquid slopped onto his pant leg. His brain told him to pull the drenched denim away from his skin, but he couldn’t get the message to his hands. He stared stupidly at the spray of brown on the snow. None of this was happening. It couldn’t be. Fury at what he was unable to control shot through him in a painful rush. Words blasted out of him.

  “Then we need to get her to another center! The Mayo Clinic, maybe. Samantha’s brother-in-law, Rafe Kendrick, is standing by to fly her anyplace you name. In his jet, she’ll have all the comforts of home. We can’t just let her—” Quincy couldn’t finish the sentence. “There are all kinds of treatments. Somebody, somewhere, can do something! A really good team of doctors can put her into remission. I know it.”

  “She already has a really good team of doctors, some of the best.” For several seconds, Clint rasped for breath. The sound reminded Quincy of the story he’d once read to his little sister, Sam, about a tiny train that huffed and puffed to get up a steep grade. “It’s not their fault she has some weird subtype they’ve never seen! And it’s . . . too . . . late to take her somewhere else. She . . . could . . . die during a long flight. This is my . . . fault, Quincy, all mine. I screwed around, thinking she had a bad case of flu. Jesus, help me. I . . . should . . . have realized! If I’d gotten her up here sooner, they might have been . . . able . . . to . . . save her. Now all they can do is give her transfusions . . . and . . . IV fluids. That helps, but it’s a short-term fix, and now she’s getting so dehydrated, they have to poke her and poke her to . . . even . . . find . . . a vein.”