“Cain?” she said in a voice usually reserved for pleas to the executioner. “Will you marry me?”
Following a moment of protracted silence, he laughed out loud. “Man, for a minute there, I thought you asked me to marry you.”
Maggie’s face had gone two shades of red. “I did.”
The smile slipped disbelievingly from his expression. Cain stared at her, dumbfounded. Standing up to his ankles in the horse dung and straw he’d swept out of the stables, he nearly sat down where he was.
“Not a real marriage, of course. Don’t look at me that way. I know how this sounds.”
Cain snorted, thinking he’d been transported to some weird alternative universe while he wasn’t looking. “You do?”
“I—I said it all wrong. Actually, there is no right way to ask a complete stranger to marry you.”
Dear Reader,
There’s so much great reading in store for you this month that it’s hard to know where to begin, but I’ll start with bestselling author and reader favorite Fiona Brand. She’s back with another of her irresistible Alpha heroes in Marrying McCabe. There’s something about those Aussie men that a reader just can’t resist—and heroine Roma Lombard is in the same boat when she meets Ben McCabe. He’s got trouble—and passion—written all over him.
Our FIRSTBORN SONS continuity continues with Born To Protect, by Virginia Kantra. Follow ex-Navy SEAL Jack Dalton to Montana, where his princess (and I mean that literally) awaits. A new book by Ingrid Weaver is always a treat, so save some reading time for Fugitive Hearts, a perfect mix of suspense and romance. Round out the month with new novels by Linda Castillo, who offers A Hero To Hold (and trust me, you’ll definitely want to hold this guy!); Barbara Ankrum, who proves the truth of her title, This Perfect Stranger; and Vickie Taylor, with The Renegade Steals a Lady (and also, I promise, your heart).
And if that weren’t enough excitement for one month, don’t forget to enter our Silhouette Makes You a Star contest. Details are in every book.
Enjoy!
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
This Perfect Stranger
Barbara Ankrum
To Babs For throwing me your reserve chute on this one and for reminding me daily why we do this very difficult thing.
Thanks.
BARBARA ANKRUM
says she’s always been an incurable romantic, with a passion for books and stories about the healing power of love. It never occurred to her to write seriously until her husband, David, discovered a box full of her unfinished stories and insisted that she pursue her dream. Need she say more about why she believes in love?
With a successful career as a commercial actress behind her, Barbara decided she had plenty of eccentric characters to people the stories that inhabit her imagination. She wrote her first novel in between auditions, and she’s never looked back. Her historicals have won the prestigious Reviewers’ Choice and K.I.S.S. Awards from Romantic Times Magazine, and she’s been nominated for a RITA Award from Romance Writers of America. Barbara lives in Southern California with her actor/writer/hero-husband and their two perfect children.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 1
The idling Harley-Davidson rumbled beneath him with an impatient growl. All power and muscle and ragged edges, the machine—like its rider—waited for some sign that the town that lay at the foot of the pass whose crest they straddled was better or worse than any other.
Dawn was just beginning to ease the darkness from the sky. Lights winked from the small constellations of buildings scattered across the valley below. Cain MacCallister had seen a hundred towns just like it in the past few weeks. Even stopped in a few. But destinations, like dreams, were temporary things, and a man like him didn’t stay long in either one. Still, his dark gaze prowled the compilation of roads and ranches crisscrossing the picturesque landscape below the way a hawk’s did a potential landing spot. And for a moment, Cain dared to imagine himself belonging there. It was foolish, he knew, because he hadn’t belonged anywhere in so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like.
Tightening his fist around the throttle, he glanced to the west. The road forked here toward Missoula. If he wanted to, he could take it. Ride another hundred miles. Not much farther than that. He’d poured the last of his money into the gas tank of his bike just outside of Butte. He might find a job in Missoula, lose himself in a city of that size for a while. A man with choices would do that. But it had been two days since he’d eaten, and hunger gnawed at his insides. He needed food and sleep and most of all, he needed a place to be. At least for a while.
A cool night wind swept down off what some called The High Lonesome, tugging at his thick, dark hair and stirring the restlessness in him. He understood loneliness the way only a man who’d been behind bars could. Most of the time it suited him. But today he felt it in his bones with a deep and abiding ache.
His skin went hot as memories of holding Annie skittered across his mind. They tended to catch him off guard at moments like this, but he tamped those memories down. No use thinking about her. That chapter of his life was over. Whatever needs still eddied inside him, he could assuage with an anonymous roll in the hay. And even as that urge crystalized low in his loins, he realized his decision was made.
He gunned the throttle with a brutal twist of his big hand. The engine answered him with a roar that echoed through the pass and drifted down toward the rushing Musselshell River like the call of some wild thing. Somewhere in the distance, an animal howled in reply.
“So, that’s it then.” Maggie Cortland stared disbelievingly at the bank manager, Ernie Solefield, who was studiously avoiding eye contact with her. For that, she was almost grateful, because she didn’t trust herself not to start blubbering like a baby.
“I’m afraid so, Maggie,” he said curtly, shuffling papers on his perfectly ordered desk. “I wish it could have gone the other way.”
She stared blankly at the shiny bald spot at the top of his head. The smell of money permeated this place, but it dangled, as usual, just out of her reach. “Ernie, you’ve known me for seven years. You know my land—what it’s worth. You knew Ben. We had you and Sarah to our house.”
He shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, Maggie. You know I did everything I could.”
“Everything within the prescribed limits, you mean.”
His head came up with a snap. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The expression on his face, somewhere between anger and guilt, told her she was right. Somehow, that comforted her. After all, she knew the drill. She’d been through