“I’m going to win this case, get married and run for office. That’s the plan.”
“Plans can change, but only if you want them to.”
He regarded her for several seconds, and Maggie was afraid she’d crossed some line. “What I want is to do the right thing. I always do.”
What was the “right” thing here? Was it right to like him? To want him to like her? To imagine what it would be like to kiss him? Was it right to want to see him again—without testimony or lawyers, without messy histories or future campaigns involved?
Was it right to want those things without any other expectations?
Dear Reader,
When last we saw James Carlson, he arrested the bad guy and saved the day. Many readers wondered whether or not James would ever meet his match. Have no fear—A Man of Privilege answers that question!
James is a wealthy man with a spotless record. He’s destined for higher office and the power that goes with it. All goes according to plan until Maggie Eagle Heart walks into his life. He’s completely unprepared for the beautiful woman who challenges him at every turn. No one has ever challenged him before. Maggie is different— and it won’t be long until James discovers just how different she really is!
James finds himself struggling to keep his family’s expectations and his own dreams spinning when Maggie is around. Before he knows it, things spin out of control.
A Man of Privilege is a sexy story of power and privilege. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Be sure to stop by www.sarahmanderson.com for a sneak peek at the next book, A Man of Distinction.
Sarah
About the Author
Award-winning author SARAH M. ANDERSON may live east of the Mississippi River, but her heart lies out west on the Great Plains. With a lifelong love of horses and two history teachers for parents, she had plenty of encouragement to learn everything she could about the tribes of the Great Plains.
When she started writing, it wasn’t long before her characters found themselves out in South Dakota among the Lakota Sioux. She loves to put people from two different worlds into new situations and see how their backgrounds and cultures take them someplace they never thought they’d go.
When not helping out at school or walking her two rescue dogs, Sarah spends her days having conversations with imaginary cowboys and American Indians, all of which is surprisingly well-tolerated by her wonderful husband and son. Readers can find out more about Sarah’s love of cowboys and Indians at www.sarahmanderson.com.
A Man
of Privilege
Sarah M. Anderson
MILLS & BOON
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To my grandmothers, Frances, Goldie and Maggie.
I couldn’t have asked for three stronger women
in my life, and for the gifts that each gave me,
I’m eternally grateful.
One
“Mr. Carlson, Agent Yellow Bird is here with Ms. Touchette.” His assistant’s tone was clipped and professional, giving no clue as to what sort of woman was waiting out there.
“Thank you.” James’s hand hovered over the old-fashioned intercom switch. The intercom wasn’t his favorite way to communicate with Agnes. Reminded him too much of how his father would bark out orders to the hired help from behind the closed doors of his home office. Luckily, his father wasn’t here.
And his parents had certainly never stooped to visit him in South Dakota. The sight of this shabby office in the Judicial Building in Pierre, South Dakota, would no doubt send his mother into affected hysterics. In her view, his job here was not the shortest path between the family mansion in Washington, D.C., and the White House. The Carlson family dynasty was mentioned in the same breath as the Kennedys or the Bushes. For as long as he could remember, he had been groomed for a run at the presidency. His parents expected him to do whatever it took to win. It drove them nuts that James insisted on walking the straight-and-narrow path to power instead of letting them open all the doors for him.
He picked up the photo of Ms. Touchette from his desk. The decade-old mug shot showed a bruised, beaten woman trying to look mean and mostly looking like a dog someone had kicked too many times. Her scarred skin and browned teeth were consistent with those of a meth abuser. She had a hell of a rap sheet—arrests for transporting and delivering drugs, prostitution, breaking and entering. The later arrests, which had occurred almost ten years ago, had taken place at the same time James had been finishing at the top of his class at Georgetown with seven-figure offers from all the top firms.
His father had expected him to take the highest offer, but James didn’t need the money. His grandfather had left him more than enough, so James had taken an entry-level position with the Department of Justice and earned every single promotion. He was one of the best lawyers in the country not because his mother was rich or his father was powerful, but because he worked hard and followed the rules.
Not everyone followed the rules. The paper trail on Touchette went cold nine years ago. Either she’d dropped off the face of the earth or gotten better at evading the cops. Both would explain why it had taken Yellow Bird months to track her down. James hoped she’d gotten clean, but he had to remind himself that it didn’t really matter what had happened to her. What mattered was that James needed her. She was an insurance policy in his quest to clean up the courtroom.
If Yellow Bird hadn’t been out there, James would have let Ms. Touchette sit. Nervous people were easier to manipulate than calm people. But FBI agent Thomas Yellow Bird was no criminal. Half the time, James got the feeling Yellow Bird would drop him with one shot, given the opportunity. The other half, James was sure the man would take a bullet for him. James preferred to stay on the latter side as much as possible. He stood to put on his suit jacket and straighten his tie. “Send Ms. Touchette in, please.”
Yellow Bird entered, motioning for the woman to follow him. James remained standing—even criminals deserved common courtesy—but when she walked into his office, he did a double take.
She was not what he was expecting.
The woman standing before him had long black hair that hung to her shoulders in loose waves, with bangs that swept down low over her left eye. Her skin was a clear, tawny brown and appeared to be scar free. She wore a brown, ankle-length, tiered skirt and a pink tank top, and she clutched a brown leather bag to her side. She was clean, her eyes bright and wary. She’d look good on a witness stand.
She’d look better in bed.
Where had that come from? He hadn’t had