Jennifer Greene - Ain’t Misbehaving

Dear Reader,

Over the years, so many wonderful readers found me through my Harlequin/Silhouette booksand asked me if the books I wrote under Jeanne Grant for Berkley would ever be available. Thanks to Carina Press, they are! Over the next few months, starting in November 2010, two titles will be available every month through next spring.

AintMisbehaving has a special place in my heart-and its a story that readers have never stopped writing me about. At the time, it broke all the rules-breaking rules is something Ive always loved to do-and undoubtedly, thats part of why Ive loved it so much.

Mitch has a problem no romantic hero is supposed to have. Lets just say that hes an alpha guy who was deprived of his alpha until recently. And Kay, the heroine, thinks of herself as a sophisticated woman with a ton of common sensenone of which is going to help her a bit to deal with a man like Mitch.

I hope Ive tantalized you! Carina Press worked with me to take out a few outdated phrases and references, but otherwise, this is the same story that won a Silver Medallion from RWA and placed on a variety of bestseller lists when it first came out.

Please feel free to let me know how you like the story-you can find me through my website at www.jennifergreene.com or through my Jennifer Greene author page on Facebook.

Looking forward to hearing from you!

Jennifer Greene

With a violent shiver, Mitch shook the rain from his dark hair and strode briskly up the stairs. Outside, there was a lalapalooza of a wind, as they called it in Idaho, and his bulky fishermans sweater afforded only minimal protection against the damp, cold morning. The first of November was announcing itself with a vengeance.

At the top of the stairs, he pushed open the heavy steel door and wandered through, automatically turning left into the familiar corridor of Bransons, the new medical facility halfway between the college towns of Pullman and Moscow. The bright walls of the childrens wing were decorated with cartoon art, while painted rainbows graced the ceilings.

Unfortunately, the cheerful decor in no way muted the unmistakable smells of alcohol and antiseptic. Mitch jammed his hands in the front pockets of his worn, loose cords and felt his teeth instinctively clench, just a little.

Old dreads. Hed spent too many years in hospitals to shake his revulsion for those smells; yet that very revulsion was the reason why he spent so many Saturday mornings here. Antiseptics and fear went together if you were a kid. He knew. The hospital hed been in had been much older and drearier than Bransons, and hed been a few years older than most of the children on this floor, but he understood exactly what they were going through.

Way back when-when he was fifteen, to be exact-his only goals in life had been to play football and to get laid.

Ones goals changed slightly when one had spent thirteen years fighting for survival. A narrow streak of white in Mitchs dark hair and a deep furrow between his brows bore witness to the change. Still, his face must have retained some traces of that hell-bent-for-trouble teenager, because when the brunette at the nurses station glanced up, her eyes sparkled in welcome.

Youre early, handsome.

A little. He returned her wide grin. Rhoda had soft brown eyes, curly hair and a figure that almost made her nurses uniform look seductive. He let his eyes sweep over her a little longer, primarily because she would have been disappointed if he hadnt.

Stop that.

Stop what?

She fussed hurriedly with the papers in front of her. You give me that kind of look every time you come in here, she accused mildly.

You have terrific legs.

Thank you. She stopped fussing. Now, are you going to see Peter for me?

Mitchs easy smile didnt falter, but his dark eyes ceased to dance and turned broody and gentle. He was better last week, he said shortly.

Medically, hes doing fine. Oh, chafing at the traction, but its his mother hes frantic about. Shes his whole family

Last week you said shed been taken off the critical list.

Rhoda nodded. She has been, and in time shell be fine. But we cant let him see her, Mitch. The bandages alone would scare him to bitsespecially since hes convinced something terrible has happened to her. Kays already in there, by the way, but never mind-that little boy can use all the company he can get.

Mitch had already taken a determined stride toward the childs room when he hesitated, one eyebrow raised curiously. Whos Kay?

Whos Kay? Rhoda echoed in surprise. How could you not know Kay? You two have been coming here on alternate Saturdays for months. Actually, we figured you two had worked the schedule out between you.

Never heard of her. He took another impatient step down the corridor.

Hey. Wheres my kiss? Rhoda hissed in an outraged whisper.

Mitchs head swiveled back. There you go again, completely spoiling your image as a tyrant. How do you expect to keep discipline around here when youre such a sucker for a little kid and a good-looking man?

You? Good-looking? Rhoda lifted her face for a peck on the cheek.

Youve still got that key to the back room?

You want it?

Believe me, Id give you exactly what you deserve, Mitch whispered, except that then youd have to go back to your husband knowing exactly what youd missed in life.

Rhoda chuckled. Get out of here. And if you cause trouble on the ward today, Ill hang you by the thumbs, Mitch Cochran.

Now youve got me shaking. Mitch rapped his knuckles once on the high Formica counter and stuck his hands in his pockets again as he strode toward room 209.

Flirting, he was discovering, was like riding a bike. One never forgot how to do it. Between adults, the innuendos were a little more sophisticated than between teenagers, but it was basically the same. A hint at forbidden pleasures, a little verbal rush, a slight retreat, the smallest hint of physical contact Actually, flirting was really a vastly underrated cure for low blood pressure.

Low blood pressure had never been his problem. It was the condition of his heart valves that had prevented him from having a normal life for the past thirteen years. But that was all behind him now.

His life was at a crossroads. He suddenly had to make decisions-about his lifestyle, his career-hed never thought hed have the chance. The choices were awesome. Already, hed had six months of life. It had taken him almost that long to get used to just having the commodity.

These Saturday mornings at Bransons were a reminder of the riches, and in some ways a relief from those decisions most twenty-eight-year-old men had already made. In a dozen ways, Mitch felt older than his years. He knew a great deal about pain and about courage and about the gut strength it took to fight for survival. But he seemed to know very little about how to form relationships that went beyond the superficial-and the ability to reach out to others wasnt coming easily.

Except with the children, on Saturday mornings. Mitch paused in the open doorway of room 209. The room was a private one; Mitch had already tried to persuade Rhoda to move the boy into a two-bed room. Little ones needed company, not solitude, and this boy even more than most.

Peter was seven, a redhead with more freckles than face. His left leg was in a heavy cast. At a glance, Mitch could see the blotchy red around the youngsters eyes, as if he had only recently finished crying. However, at the moment Peters cheeks were puckered, and he was clearly fighting laughter.