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Friday's Child
Silhouette Intimate Moments 6/98
ISBN: 0-373-0782-5
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Wealthy, brooding businessman Michael Friday's one weakness was his daughter, Chloe. So when her teacher called to speak about Chloe's behavior, he couldn't believe her concerns. But when Miss Rose came in person, he started listening.
Kate stormed into the single father's office--but stopped short at the sight of the tall, powerful executive. This was Chloe's beloved daddy? Domineering men were always trouble, but this one was more dangerous than most. Because Michael had a tender side, and he was showing it to Kate....
(excerpt from Friday's Child)
Michael watched Kate's reflection from over her shoulder. "It's no use, you know."
Their gazes met in the mirror.
"You can't wipe away what happened here as easily as smoothing the wrinkles from your dress. It still shows where I kissed you. Here." His finger touched the side of her jaw, where his rougher chin had left an abrasion. "And here." His touch whispered over her lips, still swollen from his.
She pulled away jerkily, making sure to keep a careful distance between them. "This was a mistake. Mine," she hastened to add, when his eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry I let it go this far. I appreciate the news you shared with me about your decision for Chloe. And the meal," she added, almost as an afterthought. "But I'm your daughter's teacher. Surely you understand how unprofessional it would be for me to get involved with..."
"Get involved with...?" he asked helpfully, when she hesitated.
She made a helpless gesture with her hand. "With...this. With you. With...anything."
"Am I to assume from that explanation that your only objection to what happened here stems from the fact that you're Chloe's teacher?"
A frown worried her brows. "No...not exactly."
Frustrated desire shortened his temper. "Well, then, what...exactly?"
"It wouldn't be right to have this sort of relationship with a parent, that's true. But you and I...we're not compatible at all."
"No?" he asked softly, moving toward her.
Her eyes tracked his movements warily. "No. Our
lifestyles. Our values. We have nothing in common."
“We've got more in common than you're letting on. How about this?"
he dared her, pressing his lips against the rapid pulse in her throat.
"Do you like this?"
She took a deep breath. "Michael."
He raised his head slowly.
"This can't happen again."
"Let's negotiate."
"No."
His jaw clenched, he threw her one last fierce look. She returned it steadily, her breathing a little rapid, but her expression determined. He opened his mouth one more time, to make one last attempt to get her to see reason. She gave a slight imperceptible shake of her head, her answer devastatingly apparent. Turning jerkily, he yanked at the door to let himself out. The brisk night air held no previews of the coming spring weather, but its chill came much too late to cool unquenched fires.
"Lock the door after me," he commanded, his voice low and harsh. It gave him a reason to linger there on her steps, when common sense and raging hormones would have dictated otherwise. It was an excuse to wait to hear the unmistakable click of the deadbolt, the jangle of the chain.
His ears strained, and he could almost convince himself that he heard more, as well. That he might have heard a tiny sound against the door, that could have been her body relaxing against it. An almost imperceptible sigh, that might have been a released pent up breath.
A tight smile twisted his lips, at odds with the ache in his loins. If he tried hard enough, he might just convince himself that he heard his name whispered.
On the other side of the door.
Undercover Lover
The Sullivan Brothers
Silhouette Intimate Moments 9/98
ISBN: 0-373-07882-X
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Daytime friends...nightime lovers?
He was the one man she trusted, her best friend--and now he was her lover. Ellie Bennett shivered as she remembered last night. Sully had looked at her with such need and longing....She'd seen--she'd felt--the passion behind his legendary control and known they would never be just friends again. But why wouldn't he admit it?
Sully groaned at the memory. For years Ellie had been his only weakness--a temptation he'd protected and hidden. And now she'd brought him to his knees--and nearly blown his cover. Because Ellie didn't know that, for Sully, deception was his stock in trade.
But she was about to find out.
Winner of the Annual Award of Excellence
Competition
Finalist in the Rising Star Contest
Excerpt
"I heard the crash...then you moving around..." Ellie's voice trailed off.
"I'm all right. Go back to bed." Sully's words sounded harsh, even to his own ears. But they failed to sway her.
"I'm not going anywhere until I can see for myself."
He stood there for a moment, then muttering a curse, he found his boot in the darkness and slipped the blade back in its sheathe. Then he walked to the bedroom and grabbed his jeans off the floor. Pulling them up, he zipped them, but didn't bothering buttoning them. He returned to the door just as a knock sounded again.
"Sully!" He pulled open the door as she spoke again exasperatedly. Propping an arm against the door jamb, he contemplated her through the shadows.
"What?"
"I just wanted to be sure you're all right. You're having trouble sleeping again, aren't you?"
His brain seemed to have trouble registering her meaning. "Again?"
"Again." Her dark eyes were sincere, filled with anxiety. "I hear you sometimes, pacing around in here during the night. The walls aren't particularly thick, you know." Her words rendered him sufficiently speechless for her to duck under his arm and walk into his apartment.
By the time he'd recovered, she'd gone the few feet into the living room and switched on a lamp. He turned to face her but remained where he was, keeping the door open. She wouldn't be staying long. He couldn't let her.
He was still trying to adjust to the idea of her listening to him, not just tonight, but other nights. He was aware that her bedroom lay just on the other side of the wall in his. He was definitely aware. Many a night he'd lain awake in bed, imagining what she was wearing in hers. Imagining what she'd look like lying beneath him, wearing nothing at all.
"Sorry I woke you. It was nothing." He shrugged. "Just a dream." But she didn't appear to be listening to him. Her eyes went wide with concern.
"Oh, Sully, your poor chest! What happened to you?"
He blinked at her uncomprehendingly, and she crossed to him, laying one soft hand against his skin. He looked down, realizing she was referring to the bruises that were vivid reminders of his trip to Bogota. And then thought faded as sensation crashed over him. His eyes slid half-closed and he watched her, letting himself imagine for an instant what it would be like if she touched him out of desire instead of concern. How she would look touching him just like that as he mounted her, before her touch grew stronger, wilder, as he slipped into her for the first time.
His need for her was as keen as a blade, threatening to slice away the layer civility he'd carefully constructed, leaving his defenses in shambles. He took her wrist in his hand and stepped away.
"You shouldn't be here."
No, she shouldn't be here, in the middle of the night, wearing a silky invitation for a robe, tied hastily around her narrow waist. One quick tug would unfasten it, and only a little urging from his hands would send it slithering down her arms to pool at her feet. She shouldn't be there touching him like that, looking at him like that.
He jammed his fists into his pockets. She shouldn't be here.
Heartbreak Ranch
The Sullivan Brothers
Silhouette Intimate Moments 2/99
ISBN: 0-373-07910-9
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Rancher Jed Sullivan was ruthless about getting what he wanted--and he'd just set his sights on Julianne Buchanan. The sparks between them had always been kept under Jed's tight control, but now that Julianne had come home, Jed was hungry for something only she could give...
Jed knew that no woman would ever stick around--hell, even his mother had abandoned him. The Heartbreak Ranch in Montana was his only home--the only place he belonged. But it was Julianne's home, too. And until she discovered Jed's secret, he planned to take whatever she would give him--and damn the consequences!
(Excerpt from Heartbreak Ranch)
"Jed."
Julianne's voice was a whisper trapped in her throat, but he dropped the bags he'd been carrying and straightened, as if he'd known she was there. Perhaps he had. Jed had always seemed to know all manner of things.
"Jules." His voice was inflectionless, his face, below the brim of his hat, more so. He nodded to the mound of luggage at his feet. "Is this all you've brought?"
If there was a hint of sarcasm in his tone, she chose to ignore it. "I'm traveling light," she said, moving into the room and facing him.
Time was always very good to Jed. If anything his shoulders
grew broader, his thighs harder, his jaw firmer. Though his hat shielded
his eyes, she knew they were a cool, direct gray, a startling contrast
to the tan he acquired from working outdoors. Beneath the hat his dark
hair curled a bit in back of his ears, telling her better than words that
it had been too long since it had last been cut. His nose had a slight
bump in it, a legacy of the time he'd lost a battle of wills with a half
wild stallion. He carried an aura of simple male confidence, and a maddening
arrogance, glossed with a sheen of unmistakable danger.
She'd long since recovered from her adolescent fascination with that aura,
just as she'd long since given up trying to impress him. So she blamed
the sudden tripping of her pulse and the knot in her throat on a justifiable
appearance of nerves. She crossed to the dresser and pulled out a drawer.
Jed Sullivan was the last person with whom she wanted to discuss the excruciating
end of her marriage. The last to whom she'd admit just how alone she felt
right now, how uncertain about her future.
But she couldn't prevent herself from asking, "Was Annie very worried?"
She hadn't realized he'd moved until she heard him behind her, felt his knuckle brush her jaw. Swinging around, she found herself caught between the surface of the dresser and Jed's hard body. He crooked a finger beneath her chin, tilted it up. "We both were."
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, regret washing up in waves. "I would have given anything to avoid that. I hoped the whole mess would blow over. I didn't want anyone here to be touched by it."
For a moment, his thumb grazed the soft skin below her jawline. "Anything that affects you touches us, too, Jules. You should know that."
His unexpected gentleness was almost her undoing. It would be so easy to lean on him, to let his solid strength take the weight of hers, to let him absorb some of the hurt and desperation which had ridden her for so long. It was tempting to just let go, to allow someone else to take care of her for a change. The strength of that temptation frightened her.
She strove for lightness. "God, Jed, you're not going to be sweet, are you? I can handle anything but that."
His hand dropped away, and, blessedly, he took a step back. "Just tell me that you're okay now."
That, at least, she could answer honestly. "I am, now that I'm home. You don't know how much I needed to see the ranch again."
His brooding gaze held hers for a long, steady minute. "Makes it hard to figure, then, why you took your own sweet time coming home."
The moment of danger had passed. She turned back to her unpacking. "Well, I had things to do. Dodging the media was top of my list."
"Not to mention the police."
"They were tenacious, too," she replied carelessly. "But they listened to reason soon enough."
"Pretty understanding, were they?" There was no mistaking the sarcasm in his voice.
"Once they had the facts. I wasn't even on the ship the night it was raided."
"I understand that some said otherwise."
Her mouth twisted bitterly. "Times like these you find out who your friends are, don't you?"
"Yeah, you do. But if it took you this long to figure out that your best friends are right here, you're a bigger fool than I ever thought."
Julianne whirled to see him stalking away, and he didn't bother to stop the door from slamming behind him. She took a deep breath and strove to calm the fluttering in her stomach. It must surely be due to some quirk in her nature that she preferred his temper to that uncustomary gentleness. Facing Jed in a temper was like riding into a storm; exhilarating, bracing, and a little scary.
But tenderness from him...
That was nothing short of terrifying.
Falling Hard and Fast
The Sullivan Brothers
Silhouette Intimate Moments 10/99
ISBN: 0-373-07959-1
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When shadows fell across the sultry streets of Charity, Louisiana, the usually laid-back sheriff was too restless for sleep. Cage Gauthier had an unresolved murder on his hands--and a beguiling Yankee gal on his mind. But Zoey Prescott seemed as oblivious to the danger stalking this steamy Southern town as she was too Cage's smoldering desire...
Zoey wasn't about to run scared--not from Cage's heated gaze, and not from the killer they were trailing. Still, she kept a safe distance from the slow talking, quick thinking lawman...until one steamy night when the heady mix of passion and peril sparked a seduction she could no longer deny--or resist....
Finalist in the Holt Medallion Contest
Finalist in the Write Touch: Reader's Awards
Finalist in the Golden Quill Contest
Romantic Times magazine Top Pick
(Excerpt from Falling Hard and Fast)
"Fern thinks she knows who killed Janice Reilly," Zoey said.
"Does she?" Cage picked up his plate and stacked it on hers with a clatter, reminding her that her headache hadn't completely abated. She watched with more interest than she wanted to admit to see what he'd do next. A man who could cook a decent breakfast was a rarity. One who would do the dishes afterward was a saint.
She smirked when he piled all the dirty dishes in the sink. It appeared she wouldn't have to worry about having him canonized. She doubted he'd meet those pesky Vatican criteria, anyway. "Aren't you interested in Fern's theory?"
He sauntered back with a wet dish cloth to scrub the table. "Nope."
Astonished, she stared at him. "Why not?"
"Because Fern Sykes is a harmless old woman who rarely bothers a soul. And she believes that Elvis is alive and well and raising mutant kangaroos in Australia. There's not a conspiracy theory that she doesn't subscribe to, not a wacky notion that she doesn't embrace." He walked back to the sink and hung up the wet cloth. "She's called my office six times this year alone to report UFO sightings. In her case, even an eye witness account of the murder would be suspect. She's hardly a reliable source."
"You're not even going to check it out?"
He walked toward her, propped his palms on the table in front of her and leaned forward. "Zoey." His voice was gentle. "You stick to writing the mysteries, and let me concentrate on solving this one, okay?"
She lifted her chin to a regal angle. "Fine. Who's stopping you?"
"You are." He watched awareness flash into her eyes, followed by wariness. Good. She'd be wise to feel both. "I've got to tell you my concentration hasn't been the same since you came to Charity."
There was a smart retort on the tip of her tongue. Her gaze met his and the words slid down her throat. Gray eyes should be cold, impersonal. They shouldn't be capable of such warmth, such promise.
“'Course," he mused, his gaze tracing her brows, her lips, "It didn't help my concentration any to lie next to you all night. Listening to the soft sound of your breathing. Watching your face while you slept."
She stared at him transfixed, hypnotized by that low voice.
"All that in-your-face toughness of yours disappears when you're sleeping, did you know that?" His voice was husky, the finger he trailed down her cheek feather light. "I'm not the kind of man to spend a lot of time thinking about any one woman, but damned if I can figure a way to get you off of my mind.
"If you want a mystery to solve, Zoey, maybe you can start with that one."
Undercover Bride
A Year of Loving Dangerously
Silhouette Intimate Moments; 8/00
ISBN: 0-373-27092-5
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SPEAR agent Rachel Grunwald is assigned to infiltrate the Brotherhood of Blood compound posing as Caleb Carpenter's prospective bride. Her mission is to investigate the nature of the white supremacist organization's relationship with a man known only as Simon, a traitor set on destroying the head of SPEAR. But when Rachel meets Caleb she immediately suspects that there's more to the man than meets the eye. Her determination to destroy everything he represents tangles with her heart, which tells her that there is far more to the man than would first appear.
W.I.S.H. award from Romantic Times
Magazine
Romantic Times magazine Top Pick
Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice award nominee
Voted as one of the top 200 romances since 1982 by Romantic Times magazine
Reviews:
Brilliantly developed, breathtaking in its intensity, this is romantic
suspense at its best!
- Romantic Times Magazine
Undercover Bride...is one of the best overall stories of the year.
- The Romance Journal
Recently picked by Romantic Times magazine as one of the top eight romances for 2000, and one of the top 200 romances since 1982.
(Excerpt from Undercover Bride)
Caleb made a come-and-get-me gesture with his hands. “I'm ready if you are.”
Rachel strolled over to the mat, and waited for him to follow. “Oh, I'm ready, all right.”
She eyed him as they circled in the ring, as each tried to detect the first hint of weakness in the other. In hand-to-hand warfare she had to use her weaknesses, as well as her strengths. If the opponent outsized her, she would have the advantage of speed. Against superior strength, she would still have agility. The only rule of combat was to never, ever fight battles she couldn't' win.
She was determined to win this one.
He moved in with a right jab aimed for her stomach. She ducked under his arm and spun, delivering a kick to his kidneys. She didn't temper the force and knew it stung, even without the reproachful look he fixed her with as he rubbed the spot. “That hurt.”
This time it was she who smirked. “It was meant to.”
There wasn't a smile on his lips, but his eyes gleamed. “Something tells me that you think you're pretty hot stuff on the mat.”
“Something tells me that you've spent your share of time stretched out on top of it.”
He shook his head, a flicker of humor crossing his face. “Baby, I'm going to make you pay for that one.”
With a mask of renewed resolve on his face he kept moving, blocking her feint and right cross, jabbing out, catching her firmly on the shoulder. “Ready to stop yet? I'd hate to really hurt you.”
She bared her teeth. They continued to circle each other warily, waiting for an opening, searching for a vulnerability. She landed one more kick to his belly, and was almost downed when his foot shot out behind hers and he gave her a push that should have toppled her. She held on to his arm to regain her balance, then wrested it behind him. It was a trap. She knew it as soon as she moved; she didn't need his husky laugh to tell her so. She should never have gotten that close to him. Nearness dissipated her advantage. Her mobility was threatened. She released him, clasped both hands, and drove her elbows into his ribcage.
Although his breath released with a satisfying whoosh, he had the presence of mind to grab her before she could spin away, and used his superior strength to wrestle her to the mat. Where he landed smack on top of her.
His chuckle seemed to roll up from the pit of his belly. She imagined that she could feel every roll and pitch of it as it worked through his body. Every inch of his long length was pressed close to hers. Angles against curves, heat to heat. The pounding of her pulse no longer had anything to do with her exertion, and everything to do with their position. It was time to fight dirty.
She let her eyelashes flutter, and parted her lips. Her body softened against his. She didn't have to feign her breathy gasps for air. She saw the instant the laughter faded from his eyes, to be replaced with primitive masculine intent. His knee pressed between hers, and his mouth descended slowly, his gaze fixed on hers.
And a moment later he stilled, his lips a fraction away, male discomfort evident on his face. "Ah...you know that your knee is in a very tender spot...you do know."
She smiled sweetly.
"My mother is expecting grandchildren."
"Then I'd advise you to get up. Slowly."
With exaggerated care he rose, moving back cautiously while she stood, as well. He watched the self-satisfied look settle across her face and it brought an answering smile. Damn, if she wasn't something. Unexpected, alluring, intriguing. And sexy enough to melt a glacier.
He stepped forward, stuck out a hand. "Truce?"
She eyed it suspiciously, before putting her hand in his. The moment their fingers clasped he yanked her against him, and wrapped his arms securely around her waist to keep her there. "Remember," he whispered, his lips close to hers, "never trust an opponent. Especially one promising peace."
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