Page 1 of Bridge to Home

Prologue

Harlow Wynn stared wide-eyed, unblinking at Wynn Harbor Inn’s majestic lodge, or what was left of it. The acrid smell of smoldering timbers singed her nostrils.

Her stomach churned, and she desperately needed to cough…to clear the burning in her lungs. Instead, she stood frozen, ramrod straight and unable to look away.

Firefighters worked in unison, dragging their hoses to the section of the structure that housed the lodge’s small apartment. Dodging the workers, Harlow saw her father not once, but twice, trying to enter the burning structure only to be stopped by the fire captain.

She clenched her fists, praying for a miracle that her mother had somehow escaped the raging inferno.

Harlow wasn’t sure how long she stood there. All she knew was that she would stay…stay and pray, believing Gwendolyn Wynn was still alive and had somehow miraculously survived.

Time moved in slow motion. The fire died down. The wall of flames turned to embers. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. David Wynn, Harlow’s father, with a look of utter defeat, exhaustion and shock etched on his face, trudged toward her. He didn’t have to tell her. Harlow knew her mother had perished in the fiery inferno.

“She’s…gone.” Harlow, her throat parched from the heat and smoke, choked out the words. “Mom died in the fire.”

“I’m sorry, Harlow. She…” David Wynn reached for his daughter’s arm.

Something deep inside her snapped. An anger as hot as the fire erupted. Harlow’s whole body shook as she jabbed her finger at him. “This is all your fault!”

“You know that isn’t true. I was in the cottage when the fire broke out. I loved your mother.”

“Did you? Then why was she living in the manager’s apartment instead of at home?” Harlow spun on her heel.

Her father reached out to stop her.

She jerked her arm from his grasp, seething with rage. “You might not have set the fire, but it’s your fault Mom is dead.”

“How can you say that?” David’s voice cracked. “Please, Harlow. You’re not thinking straight.”

“You’re wrong. I am thinking straight. Crystal clear, in fact. I’m leaving Mackinac Island. Your precious Wynn Harbor Inn is all yours because I can promise you one thing. After I leave here, I’m never coming back.”

Chapter 1

“Harlow! Over here!”

Harlow Wynn turned toward the paparazzi and tilted her head, mustering up her most dazzling, sultry expression. Lights flashed. So many bright lights she was temporarily blinded.

Placing her hand on her hip, she struck what she jokingly referred to as her “Marilyn Monroe pose” while the cameras continued flashing. It was part of the deal, part of the gig. A carefully orchestrated gathering in front of the film studio to build hype for her upcoming film,A City of Glass.

Smile. Pretend you enjoy being hounded by the press, all the while being stalked, gossiped about, lied about…

So many untruths published about her over the years. Harlow had given up trying to set the recordstraight. It no longer mattered. People, fans, the public would believe what they wanted to believe.

She felt a light tug on her hand and turned to find her husband, Robert, who was also her manager, propelling her in the opposite direction.

Harlow quickly recognized where he was taking her. To the casting director Daniel Orlane, who stood smirking. She’d felt his eyes on her, mentally undressing her, watching her every move, leering at her. Predator and prey.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d inked a deal for a major movie production working alongside some of the hottest stars in Hollywood. As soon as she’d signed her name, Orlane had attacked her, ripped her shirt and left an angry red welt on her upper arm.

Of course, Harlow had heard the rumors before meeting with him. The man was a lecherous, middle-aged powerhouse. You either let Orlane paw at you or risk being ostracized. Harlow had finally hit his radar.

Thank God a building custodian happened to be walking past before things got completely out of control. She’d made a quick escape. Shaken, Harlow returned home. Robert was there, working in their office.

She told him what had happened. Shockingly, her husband brushed it off, even hinting that perhaps Harlow had encouraged Orlane. It was the first time she could ever remember Robert dismissing her concerns.

Harlow abruptly stopped. “I don’t want to talk to him,” she gritted under her breath. “I told you what happened yesterday.”

“You’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum,” Robert hissed back. “This is a major deal. You two need to get along, or at least fake it in public.”

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