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Don’t miss the chance to read the novels that launched New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala’s career.

WHOSE SIDE WAS SHE REALLY RUNNING TO?

Debbie Randall told herself her trip from California to Oklahoma was an errand of mercy. Her best friend's father had broken his leg in a car crash, and she had offered to help him out while he recovered. But, deep down inside, she knew that something else—or, rather, someone else—was behind her offer.

While she was helping Morgan Brownfield recuperate, she would have a chance to spend time with his son, Cole. Since the day she'd met him last summer, she hadn’t been able to forget the tall, quiet cop with the solemn eyes. She'd fallen for him, and she wasn't about to let love slip through her fingers just because he lived halfway across the country.

Cole was wary from the minute Debbie arrived. He'd faced stakeouts and drug busts without fear, but this woman had single-handedly sent him running for cover. He'd chosen to lead a solitary life for a reason, and there was no way on earth he was going to let her weaken his resolve. The problem was, his heart had other ideas.

Introduction

The fury in Cole’s eyes made her shake.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him.

“Well, I’m not,” he muttered.

Debbie loved holding him. Even if it made him nervous. He was so big and so hard in so many interesting places and—her hands ceased their movement beneath his jacket. She looked up.

“It’s my gun.”

She yanked her hands back as if she’d just put them on a snake. “Well, I know that,” she said. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Are you working on this case?”

“Let’s just say I have a…vested interest…in seeing that nothing else happens to you, lady.”

*  *  *

“Ms. Sala tugs at our heartstrings with tender persistence, making us ache with joy and wonder.”

—Romantic Times Magazine

“Sharon Sala is not only a top romance novelist, she is an inspiration for people everywhere who wish to live their dreams.”

—John St. Augustine, Power! Talk Radio WDBC-AM Michigan

Dear Reader

Dear Reader,

I am so pleased Silhouette is reissuing Gentle Persuasion. This book is the continuing story of the Brownfield family, which I first introduced to you in Always a Lady, published last month and available now, as well.

For me, seeing my first five books in print again is a little like coming home. I’m being reunited with characters I created, but characters whom I learned to respect and love.

In this story, Cole Brownfield is a tough, no-nonsense cop until he is reunited with Debbie Randall, the woman who comes to help his father recuperate after a crippling accident. She’s audacious and lovable, and she turns the all-male Brownfield household upside down.

Next month, watch for Sara’s Angel.

Until then, I enjoy hearing from my readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 127, Henryetta, OK, 74437 or c/o eHarlequin.com.

Enjoy the romance,

Also available from Sharon Sala:

SWEET BABY
(MIRA Books)

REUNION
(MIRA Books)

REMEMBER ME
(MIRA Books)

THE RETURN
by Sharon Sala writing as Dinah McCall
(MIRA Books)

MISSION: IRRESISTIBLE
(July 2000, Silhouette Intimate Moments #1016)

ALWAYS A LADY
(Silhouette Books)

Coming soon from Sharon Sala:

SARA’S ANGEL
(October 2000, Silhouette Books)

BUTTERFLY
(November 2000, MIRA Books)

HONOR’S PROMISE
(November 2000, Silhouette Books)

KING’S RANSOM
(December 2000, Silhouette Books)

FAMILIAR STRANGER
(June 2001, Silhouette Intimate Moments)

Dedication

This book is dedicated to a very special woman who has chosen to share her gift of being a writer with any willing soul who has the perseverance to listen and learn.

Not only has she the skill to write wonderful stories and poetry, but she also has the patience to share her knowledge.

And what makes her teaching better…what sets her apart…is the fact that she does it with love and…gentle persuasion.

Ernestine Gravley…this one’s for you.

Chapter 1

The doorbell’s loud persistent summons pulled Cole Brownfield from the backyard pool. It sent him stomping through the house, leaving a wet trail of drips and footprints in his wake.

“What?” he growled as he yanked open the front door to face a stranger. He knew he was being rude but he’d just gotten home from a three-day stakeout and was bone weary.

He and his partner, Rick Garza, also a member of the Laguna Beach Police Department Narcotics Division, had scrunched themselves in the back seat of a burned-out abandoned vehicle in a less than appealing part of the city. For several hours, they’d watched the constant stream of traffic coming and going from the small, nondescript residence that had tentatively been identified as a crack house. After last night, that had been confirmed.

During their stakeout, he’d been crawled on by bugs and barked at by stray dogs. And sometime during the night, someone had tossed a sack of garbage into the yawning openings of the vehicle that had once been windows. He’d never been so glad to get up and out of a place in his life. The only thing that had kept him sane was the thought of diving into the clear, clean, sparkling waters of his backyard pool. But he’d only made two laps when the doorbell had interrupted his relaxation. The quick dip for which he’d yearned before crawling into bed was fast becoming an impossible dream.

Cole continued to drip as he glared over the man’s shoulder to the cab parked on the street.

“Is this the Brownfield residence?” the cab driver asked.

“Yes,” Cole answered. “Who wants to know?” Being a policeman made him instantly suspicious of strangers. After the last seventy-two hours, he was in no mood to play twenty questions with a cab driver.

“My fare,” the driver answered, and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Here’s her bags. But you’ll have to help me get her out of the cab. Worst case of motion sickness I ever saw.” He walked to his vehicle, leaving Cole to follow along behind him.

Her? Cole didn’t like the sound of this. But the driver kept walking. Cole frowned. If he wanted an swers, it was obvious that he was going to have to get them for himself.

The warm sunshine had begun to dry the water clinging to his bare chest, but he broke back out in cold sweat when he recognized the passenger plastered to the floorboard of the cab.

“Sweet Lord!”

A familiar head of dark curly hair hung limply over the seat, dangling above the floorboard. “Little Red! What in hell are you doing here?”

Debbie Randall heard the voice. It was one she’d traveled halfway across the country to hear. And if the world would stop swimming backwards, she’d have time to enjoy the fact that the owner of said voice was standing before her nearly naked.

He looked fabulous: all hard brown muscles, wide shoulders, and tapered waist above slim hips. And dripping wet! Her mind boggled at the implications. But as luck would have it, her stomach changed her mind, and she made a dive out the opposite side of the cab and heaved. It was strictly for effect. There wasn’t anything left in her stomach to come up.

Cole was beyond speech. He eyed the look of disappearing patience on the cabby’s face, reached into his pocket to pay the fare, and realized he didn’t have pockets. Muttering beneath his breath, he retrieved Debbie’s belongings from the cab, fished a twenty-dollar bill out of her purse, and paid the man.

The cabby drove away, leaving Cole face to face with the reason he’d left Oklahoma in a sweat. She might be a bit green around the gills, but she was still the first woman who’d sent him running for cover.

In all his years as a cop, Cole Brownfield had seen a lot of tragedy and dealt with many situations fraught with danger. But he’d never been as scared as he was now with nothing between him and one slightly bedraggled, dark-eyed witch but a Speedo bathing suit.

“Cole,” she whispered, blinking slowly as she held out her hand, “please get me off the street and into bed before I shame us both.”

Cole staggered. My God! She hasn’t been here five minutes and she’s already trying to get me into— He pulled his wayward thoughts back into gear as he realized that she was referring to the fact that she was sick as a skunked dog. He took her by the arm.

“Come on, girl,” he said gruffly. “We’ll talk later. Right now you look like you just flew through hell backwards.”

“Don’t mention flying, please,” she muttered, and staggered gratefully into the house.

*  *  *

“Dad! Why am I the last to ever know anything of importance around here?”

Cole’s question came as his brother, Buddy, was trying to maneuver their father back into the house from his latest trip to the doctor’s office.

Morgan Brownfield sank into his favorite chair and dropped his cane onto the floor. He grunted, lifting his leg as Cole quickly shoved a hassock beneath the heavy cast. He leaned back and stared at his eldest son’s angry impatience.

“Yes, the doctor said I’m healing just fine. Thank you for asking,” Morgan drawled. Ignoring the look of guilt sweeping across Cole’s face, he asked, “Now what are you so worked up about?”

“That…that girl…from Oklahoma is here. You know! Lily’s friend…Debbie something or other.” He knew good and well what her name was. But he wasn’t about to admit to his family that she’d haunted his dreams for months.

“Oh! Debbie’s here! Great! Lily called days ago to tell us she was coming. Lily was going to come herself but her doctor discouraged it. She’s into her eighth month of pregnancy and too near delivery for air travel. The only way Case and Debbie could talk her out of coming anyway was for Debbie to promise to come in her stead. I was going to have a pay a live-in to help out until I got back to my feet anyway. I’d rather pay someone I know than have a total stranger living in my house.”

Cole grimaced. This meant she wasn’t here for a day or two. This sounded like weeks, even months.

“Why didn’t I know about this?” he asked, and ran his hand through his dark hair in frustration. Bone straight and in need of a haircut, it fell back perfectly into its state of disarray as his fingers raked across his scalp.

Buddy’s answer was short and, as usual, to the point. “You didn’t know it because you’re never here.”

“Hell!” Cole said succinctly, and glared at his brother, who calmly stared back, knowing that there was nothing Cole could do to argue the point.

“Where is she?” Morgan asked. “I’ve been looking forward to her visit.”

“She’s in bed,” Cole drawled. “I don’t know who’s going to take care of whom. I peeled her out of the floor of a cab and dumped her in Lily’s old room. She’s suffering from motion sickness. You guys are on your own. I’ve got to get to the P.D.” The Laguna Beach Police Department was Cole’s second home.

Cole waved his arms in the air, renouncing the issue as out of his hands, and left. Buddy disappeared into his room, leaving Morgan alone. Silence was a rare occurrence in the Brownfield house, and Morgan relished the opportunity to lean back and close his eyes.

*  *  *

His wife had died years ago, leaving him alone with five children to raise. Lily, his only daughter, was the only one who’d moved out of the house. She and her husband, Case Longren, lived on a ranch outside of Clinton, Oklahoma, and were about to present him with his first grandchild. The way things looked, it might also be his only one.

Cole, a detective with the Laguna Beach Police Department, was a loner. Buddy, his middle son, was a virtual genius and loved only one thing: his computers. The youngest were the twins, J.D. and Dusty, actors who, at the present time, were away on location of the latest film on which they were working.

Morgan opened his eyes, glanced down at his watch, and reached for the remote control of his television. It was almost time for Wheel of Fortune. He decided to let Debbie wear off the traces of travel. Tomorrow was soon enough for a welcome.

*  *  *

Debbie rolled over on her back, stared blankly up at an unfamiliar ceiling, then down at herself, and wondered where she was and why she’d just spent the night in her clothes. Suddenly, the memory of yesterday came rushing back along with a sick feeling that the man she’d most wanted to impress had all but poured her into bed. At least I’m still alive, she thought. So much for great first impressions.

She rolled out of bed, standing for a moment just to assure herself that the world had finally stopped spinning, and then sighed with relief. Things felt pretty close to normal and that was good enough for her. She pulled her suitcases onto the bed and began to unpack, taking time as she worked to appreciate the very feminine wallpaper and the soft pastel colors on the bed and matching curtains. Framed pictures on the wall indicated she was in Lily’s old room. It made this trip just the least bit less uncomfortable, knowing that she was in the room in which her good friend had grown up.

Volunteering to come had been one thing. Giving up her job as a cashier in a grocery store wasn’t exactly giving up a life-long career. Now that her brother, Douglas, was finally out of college and more or less on his own, she could think about herself. Knowing that she was going to live in the same house with the first man she’d met in years who had even made her think of lasting relationships had been another altogether.

But the memory of a tall, quiet man’s dark eyes and solemn face had been powerful persuasion. The attraction present between them at their first meeting was as fresh as if it had only been yesterday. A neighborhood cookout to introduce Lily’s family to Oklahoma had turned into a contest between Debbie and Cole as to who could ignore whom the most effectively.

But it hadn’t worked. It was hard to ignore a need to be held. It was impossible to ignore each other. Cole Brownfield had been a man to remember. And she had…for months. Now she was here. It was time for action.

A quick shower and a fresh change of clothing sent her in search of her hosts. She entered the kitchen to find Morgan hobbling from cabinet to table and back again, obviously trying to assemble a breakfast for himself. Debbie’s mouth formed a silent O as she took a good look at the mess in the kitchen. Chaos reigned.

“Need a little help?” she asked, and returned the smile of welcome that Morgan Brownfield sent her way.

“Debbie! You’ll never know how glad I am to see you,” Morgan said, “and how much I appreciate you giving up your time to come out and help.”

“Oh, I think I can,” she answered, as she gave him a quick hug of welcome. “The question is, where do I start first?”

“With breakfast,” Morgan commanded. “There may not be order in the house, but there’s food. I have Cole to thank for that.”

Debbie flushed at the sound of his name. “And I have him to thank for helping ground me yesterday. I’ve never been so sick…or embarrassed.”

“You’re young yet,” Morgan teased. “There’ll be other times and other days.”

Laughter was shared along with a quick but filling breakfast as Debbie was brought up to date on Morgan’s progress and on the whereabouts of his offspring, as well.

“You won’t have to worry about J.D. and Dusty,” he said. “They’re off on location, playacting again. Bit parts in some low-budget movie,” he grinned. “But they’re happy and that’s what counts.”

He pointed toward a closed doorway just off the kitchen. “Buddy’s in there. At least I think he is. That’s where I saw him last. And, as you probably have guessed, Cole is on duty. His hours are unpredictable, but he’s not. He’s my responsible son. Sometimes too much so. But my wife’s death left all of us with burdens. Cole took it upon himself to become the father figure to Lily and the boys while I was at work.”

Morgan sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know what I would have done without him. For that matter, I still don’t.”

“I understand,” Debbie said. “My folks have been gone for several years now. Dad died of cancer and Mom two years later in an accident. I was nineteen when Mom died. It left me with a seventeen-year-old brother who was nursing a chip on his shoulder. It took me six years to reclaim him and another two to get him out of school. He graduated last year from Oklahoma University with a marketing degree.”

“And where did that leave you?” Morgan asked softly. There was a lot of giving in Debbie’s story, but not much about what she’d had to give up.

“Free to come take care of you,” she answered. “And that’s what I’m about to do. Where do you want me to start?”

Morgan shrugged. “Well, I certainly appreciate it, and don’t think I don’t know what an effort this was on your part. And, as for monetary arrangements, I’ve opened an account for you at my bank. Your pay will be deposited twice a month. Here are some counter checks until yours come back from the printer.”

“I didn’t intend for this to be so…businesslike,” Debbie said. The mention of money made her blush. “It’s not like I had a job I couldn’t bear to leave. Grocery checker isn’t exactly high on a high school counselor’s list of career opportunities. I can have the job back as soon as I return. My boss already said so. I was simply looking at this as a…vacation. I’ve never been to California.”

He smiled crookedly, reminding her of Cole. Just the thought of him made her lose her concentration. And then Morgan continued.

“As for where to start…look around. It’s all a mess, and I don’t think this will feel like a vacation. Believe me, you’ll earn every penny of it. If you hadn’t come, I would have had to hire extra help until I’m well. That wreck on the freeway broke more than my leg. I can’t seem to recoup my enthusiasm for anything.” He hugged her gently. “I’d a lot rather it be you here than some stranger.”

She smiled.

He continued. “And I may have to send you out to buy a whole new set of dishes. I can’t seem to find half of them. Glasses are scarce, too.”

“Hmm,” Debbie mused. “Well, I’ll tell you what! Why don’t you go out to the fabulous lounge chair by the pool. Take the morning paper with you. I’ll be out later with something cool for you to drink. That’ll give me time to sort through all this without disturbing your rest.”

He readily agreed and disappeared outside, leaving Debbie to set a routine in motion as she began to put the household back to rights. A shadow passing across a doorway nearly an hour later made her look up to see that the Brownfield hermit had finally come up for air.

“Hey, mister!” she called from the living room as she saw Buddy carrying a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of iced-down soda in the other. “You better say hello to me. Long time no see.”

“Uh…Debbie!” Buddy gulped and grinned around a mouthful of cookie. “Yeah! I’d forgotten you were coming. Great to see you again, too.”

She gave him a hug and resisted the urge to sit him down and comb his hair. It looked as if he’d slept standing on his head. Little swirls and spikes of shaggy brown hair went every which way.

“You, too, Buddy,” she replied. “Are you still into computers?”

“Cole is gone, you know,” he answered in Buddy-like fashion. His mind was always on an entirely different subject than the one in discussion.

“I know, darling,” she said softly, and patted him on the arm as he disappeared into his room with his snack. As she watched him walk away, a thought occurred to her. If she was right, she just may have saved Morgan the price of a set of crockery.

“Oh Buddy.” She called aloud through the closed door. “I meant to tell you. You have fifteen minutes to retrieve every piece of crockery and glassware residing in your room, or I’m coming in with a bucket of soap and water and a vacuum.”

The door flew back instantly. Buddy stood mouth agape, half-eaten cookie hanging from his mouth as he gasped. “No…never…in here. Wait! I’ll do…you can’t… I’ll only take—”

Debbie waited. He stuffed the cookie into his mouth and pivoted as neatly as a star running back. She smiled to herself. Pay dirt! She wisely refrained from making another remark as Buddy made his first of five trips to the kitchen. She opened the dishwasher and pointed. He blinked, chewed, gulped, and swallowed the last of his cookie.

“Who, me?” he asked, and then stopped at the expression on her face. “Oh! Sure thing.”

Debbie left him to his task as she went outside to check on Morgan. A quick glance told her that he was still dozing. She quietly scooted the patio table over so that its umbrella would give him some shade and went back into the house just as the phone began to ring.

“Brownfield residence,” she answered. The deep masculine voice at the other end made her tilt. She leaned against the wall for support and tried to focus. It was the same feeling she’d had when the plane had taken off yesterday, leaving her stomach somewhere over the red earth of Oklahoma.

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