He unfastened her top button and dipped the cool cloth beneath the folds of her elegant blouse.
“That’s nice,” Leeza breathed. “I never would have suspected you had it in you.”
Daggert continued slowly, carefully, bringing her heat down after the day’s brutal ride through the hot New Mexico desert. Her color was coming back, giving her a peachy glow. He drifted his fingers over the swell of her breasts and up the arch of her shoulders and back down again.
She sighed.
He allowed his fingers to dip lower, cooling her.
Heating him.
Her eyes opened abruptly, and a gaze as blue and deep as the coldest mountain lake met his squarely. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked.
He gave a final slow swipe before pulling his hand back. “I’m not dead,” he said.
“Something to look forward to, then,” she purred.
Dear Reader,
This is a month full of greats: great authors, great miniseries…great books. Start off with award-winning Marie Ferrarella’s Racing Against Time, the first in a new miniseries called CAVANAUGH JUSTICE. This family fights for what’s right—and their reward is lasting love.
The miniseries excitement continues with the second of Carla Cassidy’s CHEROKEE CORNERS trilogy. Dead Certain brings the hero and heroine together to solve a terrible crime, but it keeps them together with love. Candace Irvin’s latest features A Dangerous Engagement, and it’s also the first SISTERS IN ARMS title, introducing a group of military women bonded through friendship and destined to find men worthy of their hearts.
Of course, you won’t want to miss our stand-alone books, either. Marilyn Tracy’s A Warrior’s Vow is built around a suspenseful search for a missing child, and it’s there, in the rugged Southwest, that her hero and heroine find each other. Cindy Dees has an irresistible Special Forces officer for a hero in Line of Fire—and he takes aim right at the heroine’s heart. Finally, welcome new author Loreth Anne White, who came to us via our eHarlequin.com Web site. Melting the Ice is her first book—and we’re all eagerly awaiting her next.
Enjoy—and come back next month for more exciting romantic reading, only from Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Editor
A Warrior’s Vow
Marilyn Tracy
MARILYN TRACY
Marilyn’s books, which range in subject matter from classic women-in-jeopardy scenarios to fallen angels fighting to save the universe, have placed on several bestseller lists and earned her such awards as Romantic Times Career and Lifetime Achievement Awards, and Best of Series. She claims to speak Russian with fair fluency, Hebrew with appalling mistakes and enough Spanish to get her arrested at any border crossing. She lives with her sister in Roswell, New Mexico, where the only aliens they’ve seen thus far are the critters in their new home, a converted railroad warehouse.
For Dick Satterlee, a gentle warrior,
who is surely playing the guitar in a far better place. And hopefully far better guitar. With love…
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 17
Chapter 1
“You could talk to me,” Leeza called out. “I’ll bet that’s allowed in the great tracker rule book. Something easy, like, ‘How are you faring back there?’ Not much of a commitment. You can just shout out your response anytime now.”
The man riding in front of her didn’t turn around or acknowledge her in any way. His horse, Stone—undoubtedly named after the man’s heart—swished his tail as if he, at least, was aware a bedraggled woman followed behind and had been doing so for countless hours.
Leeza Nelson wished she could summon up a straight back and a glare on the off chance the man riding in front of her would turn around and actually say something to her. But he wasn’t likely to wonder how she was holding up, and she wasn’t remotely able to sit up straight anymore. Every inch of her body ached and she’d lost all sensation in her bottom some five hours and thirty confusing mesquite bushes back.
The tracker she followed like a cowed pup didn’t seem to care that she felt worried sick about a nine-year-old jokester named Enrique, missing now for almost a full day. Tracker James Daggert had made it obvious her presence would only slow him down and that her lack of experience at riding western style was nothing but a nuisance.
From the moment she’d announced her intention of accompanying him to search for the missing boy, this high-dollar tracker, Daggert, had made it abundantly clear that Leeza Nelson’s wants and needs were one step lower than the desires of a desert mouse carrying the Hanta virus.
She was aware that as far as Daggert was concerned, she’d foisted herself into the mission, and she could put up or shut up.
This tracker extraordinaire was after only one thing, apparently: finding little Enrique. When they’d set out on this incredible trek, Daggert’s single-minded focus on the mission had made her feel grateful that she’d contracted the right man for the job. As the head of her own financial corporation, she knew the value of finding the best person to do each specific task.
Daggert’s resistance to her accompanying him had vaguely pleased her, for she had considered his reluctance might indicate a dedication to his task. That she’d been unwilling to go along with his edicts revealed her own determination to find the child.
But now, five hours later, she’d decided the man wasn’t dedicated, he was an unadulterated sadist.
“I hate this,” she muttered to her horse’s twitching ears. “I hate New Mexico. I hate horses. And right now, I hate little Enrique for running away. For that matter, I hate sunshine, dry grass, open fricking terrain, and most of all, I hate, positively hate James Daggert.”
Her horse, a beast with the unlikely name of Lulubelle, whickered.
Stone, James Daggert’s horse, gave a whinny in response.
Daggert reined in his horse and let loose an earsplitting whistle.
Lulubelle took another couple of steps and stopped abruptly, still some fifteen feet behind Stone.
Leeza rocked in the saddle, one half a gasp away from sliding to the ground in a puddle of defeat. Pride alone kept her on the horse. The evil tracker she’d hired to search for Enrique would probably leave her lying facedown in the dust if she did fall off.
“I’ll show him,” she growled to the equally evil beast she straddled. “If he thinks Leeza Nelson will ever admit defeat, he’s got another think coming.”
The horse didn’t answer aside from stomping one huge hoof.
On the northern horizon, a brown blur raced toward