Discover Love.

Saints Protection & Investigations Series.

By Maryann Jordan.

Dedication.

For many young girls, it is very hard to be smart-there can still be a backlash against a woman using her brains. I raised two highly intelligent daughters, one now has a doctorate in veterinarian medicine and the other is an engineer. And I remember how difficult middle school, high school, and college could be at times for them. So this book is dedicated to the women who rise above the taunts that women should not use their brains. Ladies...go for it!.

Acknowledgements.

First and foremost, I have to thank my husband, Michael. Always believing in me and wanting me to pursue my dreams, this book would not be possible without his support. To my daughters, MaryBeth and Nicole, I taught you to follow your dreams and now it is time for me to take my own advice. You two are my inspiration.

My best friend, Tammie, who for twenty years has been with me through thick and thin. You've filled the role of confidant, supporter, and sister.

My dear friend, Myckel Anne, who keeps me on track, keeps me grounded, and most of all keeps my secrets. Thank you for not only being my proofreader, but my friend.

Going from blogger to author has allowed me to have the friendship and advice of several wonderful authors who always answered my questions, helped me over rough spots, and cheered me on. To Kristine Raymond, you gave me the green light when I wondered if I was crazy and you never let me give up. MJ Nightingale and Andrea Mich.e.l.le you two have made a huge impact on my life. EJ Shorthall, Victoria Brock, Jen Andrews, Andrea Long, A.d. Ellis, ML Steinbrunn, Sandee Love, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

My beta readers kept me sane, cheered me on, found all my silly errors, and often helped me understand my characters through their eyes.

Shannon Brandee Eversoll as my editor and Myckel Anne Phillips as my proofreader gave their time and talents to making Discover Love as well written as it can be.

My street team, Jordan's Jewels, you all are amazing! You volunteer your time to promote my books and I cannot thank you enough! I hope you will stay with me, because I have lots more stories inside, just waiting to be written!

My Personal a.s.sistant Barbara Martoncik and Business a.s.sistant Myckel Anne Phillips, are the two women keep me going when I feel overwhelmed and I am so grateful for not only their a.s.sistance, but their friendship.

Andrea Mich.e.l.le of Artistry in Design has now created all of my covers and she is amazing at taking my vision and creating a reality. Eric McKinney, my photographer, and his wonderful models, grace my covers.

Most importantly, thank you readers. You allow me into your home for a few hours as you disappear into my characters and you support me as I follow my indie author dreams.

Chapter 1.

Nerd. Smarty pants. Teacher's pet. Brainy.

Twelve-year-old Luke Costas had heard them all before...and worse. And now, for every taunt, he kicked harder. Punched harder. Sweat poured off his lean, but muscular, body as he continued to pound his opponent.

He may be older than me...bigger than me...stronger than me...but I can take him. Just then Luke saw an opening and went for it, taking down Chris, his neighbor.

Chris jumped up, a huge grin on his face. "Way to go, Luke. Way to get in there!"

Feeling Chris clap him on the shoulder, he looked up and grinned. It was the first time the karate move worked on his neighbor...his mentor...his friend. Chris was as unlike his parents as he could be. Muscular. Rode a motorcycle. Owned a custom motorcycle shop. He even had cool tattoos, something Luke knew his dad would never have.

They continued to work out on the mat in Chris' garage for a while longer before Chris' wife, Tina, stepped out of the door leading into their kitchen, calling out, "Chris, honey, can you get the grill going?" Her eyes landed on Luke and she smiled, offering to let him stay for supper as well.

Ducking his head at first, he grinned shyly up at her, and said, "Thanks, Miss Tina, but I need to get home." As she went back into the house, he turned his attention to Chris as the two moved the mats to one side of the garage and stacked them. "I really appreciate your help," he said, hoping the desperate eagerness did not show in his voice.

Chris grinned as he appraised the boy-man in front of him. When he and his wife first moved into the neighborhood, they quickly became concerned about their neighbors, but eventually realized they were not neglectful parents. Just absentminded. And Luke desperately needed someone to teach him the things he would not learn at school or from his father. Stepping over, he resisted the urge to ruffle his hand through Luke's hair, knowing the young man was approaching the age where that gesture would not be appreciated. That thought led to the realization that he might be the one to teach Luke about women...how to appreciate them, care for them...love them. With a shake of his head, he just fist-b.u.mped Luke and said, "See you tomorrow."

As Luke jogged across the yard to his house, pa.s.sing his parents' old station wagon, he hoped his mother had been to the grocery store.

The family room sat empty as usual, the television gaining dust unless Luke wiped it off. Moving into the eat-in kitchen, he noticed it was deserted as well. Opening the pantry, he found the store-bought cookies that brought a smile to his lips. Good. Mom must have made it to the grocery.

Glancing into his parents' study, which had been a dining room with the former owners, he saw both parents hunkered over the open books on their desks. The room was littered with old doc.u.ments, books, and papers that covered the shelves, desks, chairs, and even the floor. Corban and Phoebe Costas taught at the University, devoting their studies to ancient Greece-the language, the history, the lives of those from centuries ago.

"Hi, mom. Hi, dad," Luke called out, not expecting a response. When they were bent over the ancient texts, little penetrated-especially not when their heads were buried in their work.

His mother finally wandered out of her office and as soon as she laid eyes on her only child, her face brightened into a smile. Her short hair was swept back from her make-up free face and an ever-present pencil was tucked on her ear.

"Luke, I didn't hear you come in," she greeted, moving to the refrigerator. Opening the door, she stared inside for a long moment as though searching for the meaning of life.

"Mom, nothing's gonna jump out at you."

Glancing over her shoulder, she grinned. "Yes, well, I can always hope, can't I?" Turning back, she said, "Hot dogs with mac n' cheese?"

Hiding his sigh, Luke nodded. "Sure mom. That'll be great." He thought of the meals some of his friends boasted about...all home-cooked, including desserts. Still munching on his cookie, he hopped up on the stool at the kitchen counter.

"How was your day?" she asked, her gaze moving between his face and the study door.

"Luke!" his father greeted affectionately, walking into the room before immediately turning to his wife. "I think I've found the translation we need. I'm sure it's a combination of ancient Greek and Aramaic Hebrew."

His mother straightened at the refrigerator, the forgotten hot dog package still in her hands. "Are you sure?"

Pushing his thick gla.s.ses up on his nose, he pursed his lips. "Well, not for sure...but if you come see what I've discovered, I think we may have something before the next symposium. Want to take a look?"

The hot dog package landed on the counter as Phoebe rushed after her husband, back into the study.

Luke watched them leave, a sigh escaping as he moved toward the counter to fix the hot dogs. As he stood at the sink, he heard a noise from next door. Glancing out the window, he saw Chris at his grill. With a grin, he grabbed the hot dogs and ran outside.

"Chris!" he called out.

"Hey, Luke, you back so soon?" the friendly greeting met him. Looking down at the package in Luke's hands, he shook his head. "Your folks hard at work again?"

Stopping in front of Chris, Luke looked down at his shoes. "Yeah," he said dejectedly. "I thought you might like some hot dogs and I don't mind sharing if you don't mind them cooking on your grill."

Patting Luke's shoulder, Chris nodded. "No problem, buddy." Adding the hot dogs to his own fare, he jerked his head toward the lawn chairs. "Got some time to kill?"

Luke loved talking to his neighbor-he never felt judged even though Luke knew he was a nerd and Chris was definitely not. "Sure."

"So tell me about school," Chris said, after they settled into their seats.

Heaving a sigh, Luke twisted his face into a grimace. "I like school. I like learning. But I hate being called a nerd."

"Yeah, I used to hate being called that too," Chris acknowledged, earning a sharp glance from Luke. Chuckling, Chris continued, "I didn't always look like this. I was the skinny kid who always loved to read, but got made fun of a lot."

Eyes wide, Luke stared, unable to picture the ma.s.sive man in front of him the way he described.

Leaning forward, his forearms on his knees, Chris pierced Luke with his gaze. "There's nothing wrong with being smart. Your parents are super smart-"

"Yeah, but they're boring-"

"No buts. Now you listen to me," Chris admonished. "Your parents are right for each other, even if you think they're boring. They're connected with their love of old books...and their love for you. Your parents are smart and even though they might be a little absentminded, they're good people, right?"

Nodding, Luke agreed, so Chris kept going. "I didn't have money to go to college, but I loved to work with my hands. So, I applied my brains to what I liked to do. Just 'cause your parents like ancient languages and history, doesn't mean you have to. But you need to discover what you like and then apply your intelligence to that. No matter what it is."

"I like math. I like computers, also," Luke said, his face scrunched in thought. "I'm really good in those." Then, huffing again, he said, "But I hate being called names." Grinning, he added, "That's why I'd like to learn what you're teaching me...so I can beat up on them!"

"Kids are rough on each other," Chris agreed, "but you gotta stay true to yourself. You know, the moves I'm teaching you aren't to be used lightly. You don't use your body to go after someone unless they're coming after you."

Shoulders dropping, Luke acknowledged, "Yeah, I know."

By now, Tina had joined them in the yard, plopping down in the other empty lawn chair. Smiling at the young man, she said, "Do you know anything about St. Luke?"

Luke's gaze jumped to the pretty woman and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, believe me, I've heard it all." Rotely reciting, he said, "St. Luke was Greek and was educated in languages and was a physician. He was an apostle and a historian as well as a writer of gospels, and some even consider him to have been an artist." He grimaced at his neighbors' expressions of mirth and added, "Yeah...I was named after an ancient nerd."

Chris threw his head back in laughter at Luke's description. Tina, unable to hide her smile, giggled as well.

"You know," she said, "St. Luke is also the patron saint of students. When I was in school, I attended St. Luke's High School and our princ.i.p.al always told us that we needed to be the best we could be...in whatever we chose to do." The smile slipping from her face, she leaned forward in her chair capturing Luke's gaze.

"You can be anything you want to be, Luke. You're smart, sweet, strong. Own that. Live up to that. And then continue to learn and discover all that you can.

Staring at the kind woman, he watched as she stood and, with a loving touch from her husband, moved back into the house. Chris jumped up to turn the meat on the grill, leaving Luke alone with his thoughts.

Later that night, as Luke lay in bed, he listened as his parents conversed in the other room, their voices warm as they discussed the upcoming symposium. They discovered what they were good at...and found each other. Chris was right.

He looked up as they came in to say goodnight and tuck him in. As pre-occupied as they were at times, they always remembered to come in at bedtime. After they kissed him goodnight, he thought back to Tina's words. I'm smart, sweet, and strong. Be that. Own that. And live up to that.

Chapter 2.

(seventeen years later).

The atmosphere at Chuck's Bar & Grille was boisterous; even more so than the typical Sat.u.r.day night at the local watering hole. The Saints occupied their usual s.p.a.ce near the back, although it now took several tables pushed together to make room for them all.

When Jack Bryant, a former Special Forces sergeant, retired he re-created one of his last a.s.signments, where he worked with a diverse group of men on a mission in Afghanistan. Jack discovered that the group worked coherently and without egos, making the experience a life-changing one, as well as a successful mission. It took Jack over a year to build his compound underneath his ma.s.sive, luxury house on over twenty acres at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Jack had recruited men from the FBI, CIA, SEALs, Special Forces, ATF, police, and DEA to create his new business-Saints Protection & Investigations.

Luke, stepping in front of his boss' pregnant wife, grabbed the edge of the old, worn, wooden table and shifted it next to another one. "Hold on, Bethany, let us move these around." She smiled up at the soft-spoken, tall, dark-haired man, moving out of his way while he and Jack replaced the chairs around the tables.

Finally, with enough room for them all, they took their seats. Luke slid his gaze around the gathering, a smile playing about his lips. What began as eight men now included two more men as well as eight wives and fiances. Glancing to the side, he saw Marc doing the same thing. Now, it was only he and Marc without someone special.

That thought pierced him, realizing that he wanted what the others had. Not as social as his co-workers, he wondered if that were possible. He loved his work for the Saints, having left the CIA disgusted with the red tape and c.u.mbersome political machine. The Saints offered a unique opportunity for his specialized computer engineering skill set, without the bureaucratic bulls.h.i.t the CIA was mired in.

"Whoo-eee!" came the loud call from a tiny, powerhouse of a woman behind him, jerking Luke from his musings. She was sporting her usual attire-tight jeans, tight Chuck's t-shirt, and too-tall heels. Big bust, big hair, and big heart, she balanced a large tray on her shoulders, her blue eyes twinkling at the group.

Grinning, Luke turned around to see Chuck's iconic waitress, Trudi, walking up behind him, her gaze scanning the group. They had been coming to Chuck's for over a year and Trudi mother-henned the men as well as doted on the women.

She greeted each Saint, cooing over baby pictures from Cam and Miriam and Chad and Dani, while checking on the status of the other pregnant women or those soon to be married. As she made her way around the table, she finally ended with Luke and Marc. Lifting an eyebrow, she said, "So when are the last two of you big men going to fall? Looks to me like you're gettin' behind!"

Marc, the outdoorsman of the group, placed his hand over his heart and declared, "Trudi, until I can find a woman like you, I vow to be single!"

"h.e.l.l, darlin', they broke the mold with me!" Trudi cackled, slapping Marc on the back, before casting her gaze over to Luke.

Throwing his hands up in defense, Luke proclaimed, "Just gotta find the right one."

Leaning down, she said, "Well, you need to get out more. You stay stuck behind your computers all day and probably all night!"

The group laughed knowing she was right. Luke watched her walk away after she delivered the food and his heart squeezed once more. I'm not like the others...I've got no idea what to talk about with women...and they sure as h.e.l.l have no idea what to say to me. For a second, his parents flashed through his mind. As unlikely as they were to find mates, their shared love of ancient texts brought them together and kept them connected over the years. So where does a computer nerd like me find someone? Another computer nerd that's just as antisocial as I am? Yeah, right!

As his eyes moved from Trudi heading back to the kitchen, he noticed a woman at the bar staring at him, a small smile curving her lips. He quickly glanced around at his fellow Saints, obviously all with women, except for Marc, but as he turned his gaze back to the woman, she was definitely not staring at Marc.

c.o.c.king his head to the side, he blatantly observed her, his mind categorizing her traits the way he always a.n.a.lyzed things. Long, black hair, hanging in a sheet down her back. Dark, almost black eyes. Jeans encasing her crossed legs, and a light blue sweater falling off one shoulder. Definitely nice. And definitely not the type that usually looks my way.

Seeing their pitchers of beer almost empty, he excused himself as he headed to the bar to save Trudi a trip. Okay...to be honest, I'd like to check out the interesting and interested lady at the same time.

Sure enough, as he approached, setting the empty pitcher on Chuck's worn bar, the woman swiveled toward him, her smile now a little shaky. Nervous...she looks nervous. Dark bangs hung down almost to her eyelashes, making it difficult to ascertain what her eyes looked like, but her flawless complexion and soft smile was easy to appreciate.

Before he was able to speak, a man wearing an expensive suit leaned a long arm across the woman, placing his gla.s.s on the bar while simultaneously leering down at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Noting her wide-eyed expression of surprise, Luke stood up straight, walked over to her and threw his arm around her, saying, "Hey sweetie. Sorry, I'm late."

The man looked up hastily, grumbled, then s.n.a.t.c.hed his gla.s.s back and moved down the bar.

Before Luke was able to step back, the woman smiled up at him.

"Thank you...I...well...thank you."

Distracted as she bit her bottom lip, he moved his arm from her shoulders and stepped back slightly. "Well, it seemed his attention wasn't what you wanted, so I thought perhaps-"

"Oh, yes," she rushed, a blush rising from her neck upward as she glanced around.

"I'm Luke. Luke Costas." He paused, but she simply smiled back, staring at his face, offering no name in return. "And you are?"