“Well, now that you’ve found me, what do you want?”
“To find out how you are,” he said, “and what made you leave.”
“I’m fine. And I left because I wanted to.”
If Shahna hadn’t known him so well, she might have missed the flexing of a muscle in his cheek as he clenched his teeth. Kier had a formidable temper that he usually kept rigidly in check. “That’s no answer,” he rasped. “Why don’t you tell me the truth?”
The truth? Where would she start? “The truth is,” she said, “I’d had enough—of everything. Sydney, the rat race.” Of living life on the surface, of a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere, of hiding my real feelings because you didn’t want to know about them, of being afraid that you’d find out and cut me from your life as ruthlessly as you had every other woman who shared it for a brief time. “I needed…wanted something different.”
Dear Reader,
It’s August, and our books are as hot as the weather, so if it’s romantic excitement you crave, look no further. Merline Lovelace is back with the newest CODE NAME: DANGER title, Texas Hero. Reunion romances are always compelling, because emotions run high. Add the spice of danger and you’ve got the perfection of the relationship between Omega agent Jack Carstairs and heroine-in-danger Ellie Alazar.
ROMANCING THE CROWN continues with Carla Cassidy’s Secrets of a Pregnant Princess, a marriage-of-convenience story featuring Tamiri princess Samira Kamal and her mysterious bodyguard bridegroom. Marie Ferrarella brings us another of THE BACHELORS OF BLAIR MEMORIAL in M.D. Most Wanted, giving the phrase “doctor-patient confidentiality” a whole new meaning. Award-winning New Zealander Frances Housden makes her second appearance in the line with Love Under Fire, and her fellow Kiwi Laurey Bright checks in with Shadowing Shahna. Finally, wrap up the month with Jenna Mills and her latest, When Night Falls.
Next month, return to Intimate Moments for more fabulous reading—including the newest from bestselling author Sharon Sala, The Way to Yesterday. Until then…enjoy!
Yours,
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
Shadowing Shahna
Laurey Bright
LAUREY BRIGHT
has held a number of different jobs but has never wanted to be anything but a writer. She lives in New Zealand, where she creates the stories of contemporary people in love that have won her a following all over the world. Visit her at her Web site, http://www.laureybright.com.
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 1
He came out of the mist.
Morning cloud lay softly in the hollows of the blue hills embracing the Hokianga Harbour, and drifted across its glassy waters.
Shahna Reeves, about to enter her cottage, paused at the steady put-putter of an engine. A small basket of fresh, warm brown eggs held between her hands, she watched the white hull of a motor launch emerge from the curling wisps of vapor.
The boat turned and slowed until it was nudged expertly alongside the weathered and worn jetty. There were two men aboard—the boat’s chunky, brown-skinned owner-driver, Timoti Huria, and…
Already on her way down the grassy slope, Shahna abruptly paused, her heart jumping erratically, her breath snagged in her throat.
The taller man leaped onto the jetty and took a backpack from Timoti’s big hands. A gray T-shirt stretched across taut muscles as he swung the pack to the worn, uneven boards, and designer jeans molded a trim male behind and long legs.
Timoti called to Shahna, “Brought you a visitor, Shahna. Okay?”
The newcomer, hoisting the pack onto one shoulder, turned and lifted his dark head, fixing her with a challenging ocean-blue stare.
Shahna swallowed. It wasn’t okay. Far from it. But if Kier Remington had come this far to find her he wasn’t going to go away just on her say-so. And she didn’t want to involve Timoti in a physical confrontation. Jerkily she nodded, then found her voice. “It’s okay. Thanks, Timoti.”
Satisfied, he revved the engine, and the launch backed and proceeded along the harbor, stirring a white-edged trail in the water.
His passenger started up the hill, coming to a halt in front of Shahna, their eyes level because the sloping ground negated the six inches’ difference in their height.
He subjected her to a leisurely inspection, from the dark brown hair curling gently about her ears, the loose T-shirt and unfashionable denim cutoffs, and down lightly tanned bare legs to the disreputable sneakers that she had thrust on her feet to go feed the hens.
Traveling upward again, his scrutiny halted on the basket of eggs.
A slight, disbelieving smile curved the explicitly masculine mouth. Shahna remembered how that mouth had felt on hers, firm and sure, warm and hungry. Shockingly she remembered too her own hunger for him, for his kiss, his touch, his arms around her, his male scent in her nostrils, his skin sliding against hers, hot and slick and exciting.
A familiar, long-denied longing assailed her body and made her legs weak. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
The last thing she had expected was that Kier would come looking for her. Dismay warred with exhilaration at the thought that he might have cared enough to do that.
He lifted his eyes to hers. “More to the point, what are you doing here?”
His gaze went beyond her to the cottage. Despite the white paint she’d lavished on the worn boards, the fresh green trim on the windowsills, and the new corrugated iron roof, she knew the sagging front steps and big up-and-down windows betrayed its colonial-era beginnings.
Shahna said, “The Hokianga is one of the most beautiful places in the world.” Dodging the real question.
He half turned to survey the harbor that thrust deep into New Zealand’s North Island, its myriad inlets and tributaries snaking through bush and farmland.
The sun was slowly bringing it to life, glinting on lazy ripples chasing each other across the surface as the mist melted away and crept up the hillsides, lingering on the bush-covered curves.
“It’s very pretty,” he agreed politely, and turned his attention to the immediate environs.
Around the cottage the grass was kept short by sheep that had fled at the sound of the approaching boat. A stand of dark-leaved trees, relieved by nikau palms and lacy tree-ferns, protectively embraced the small clearing.
His deep-blue gaze came back to her, and a lean, strong hand reached out to touch a tiny curled feather adhering to one of the eggs. “Very earth mother.”
Shahna