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When Charles Landon dies, the legacy he leaves behind has very different implications for each of his four children. For sophisticated GRANT LANDON it means that CRISTA ADAMS, his ward, is more than he’d bargained for! What all of the Landons find through Landon’s legacy, though, is the key that finally unlocks their hearts to love…
Dear Readers,
Welcome again to the exciting world of the Landons, and to the legacy that changes the lives of an entire family.
The idea for these books came to me when a friend and I met for lunch at a restaurant in New York. I overheard some women talking at the next table. They were discussing what makes a man exciting. “He has to be gorgeous,” said one. “And a rebel,” said another. “And not the least bit interested in being tamed,” said a third. The next thing I knew, Cade, Grant and Zach Landon sprang to life inside my head. They were certainly handsome, rebellious and untamable, and when I wondered what kind of women could possibly put up with them, their beautiful sister Kyra materialized and said, well, she’d always loved them, even if they were impossible!
This month, let me introduce you to Grant Landon in Guardian Groom. Grant’s a New York attorney. Master of any situation, he’s never at a loss…until he finds himself the unwilling guardian of Crista Adams, who has the face of an angel and the soul of a gypsy.
Settle back and enjoy four months of love, laughter and tears as you discover the full meaning of the Landon legacy.
With my warmest regards,
Sandra Marton
ALSO AVAILABLE IN HARLEQUIN PRESENTS
Landon’s Legacy
1808—AN INDECENT PROPOSAL
Guardian Groom
Sandra Marton
IT WAS late on an unseasonably warm Friday afternoon in September, and all was right in Grant Landon’s world.
The deal The New York Times had called “impossible” was almost wrapped up, the weekend stretched ahead, and tonight a long-legged beauty whose face graced half the magazine covers in the city was dining with him at his Fifth Avenue apartment—which didn’t dim his growing interest in the blue-eyed blonde seated on the other side of his desk.
They had been dueling for the past several hours, each trying to gain the upper hand, but Grant knew better than to allow his attention to be diverted by something other than the intricacies of contract law. Now, with the deal concluded, he could see that she was all the diversion one man could handle.
Alicia Madigan was bright, sophisticated, and coolly elegant. A woman to his liking—and Grant knew just the way she’d like to be handled. A shadowy smile curved across his mouth at the thought, softening the hard, handsome lines of his face.
The Madigan woman noticed.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” she said lightly. “I’ll begin to worry that I gave away too much.”
Grant laughed softly. “Come now, Miss Madigan. You know what they say about the fine art of negotiating. You give some, you get some.”
She smiled, sat back, and crossed her legs. Her demure suit skirt inched above her knees. Grant’s eyes narrowed. Was that a flash of black lace, or was it his imagination?
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Mr. Landon. We both know what the ‘fine art of negotiating’ really means. Her eyes met his. “Get as much as you can, while you can. Isn’t that right?”
Were they still discussing the intricacies of contract negotiations? Or had they moved on to an entirely different sort of negotiation?
“Perhaps.” Grant smiled. “But I’ve never taken pleasure in an arrangement that wasn’t mutually agreeable.”
Alicia Madigan gave a throaty laugh. “So I’ve heard.” Her long legs scissored again. There was no mistaking the flash of black lace this time. “You know,” she said softly, “I was as excited at the prospect as I was wary of the consequences of dealing with the famous Grant Landon.”
Grant’s smile tilted. “I have difficulty envisioning you as wary of anyone, Miss Madigan.”
“Alicia, please. Surely, we don’t have to be so formal now.” The tip of her pale pink tongue peeked from between her teeth and slicked across her bottom lip as she rose from her chair. “In fact, I was thinking we might have a drink together. Perhaps dinner. And then—well, who knows?”
Grant felt his body tighten as she came toward him. He looked her over slowly, his hazel eyes moving the length of her body in frank appraisal. Instinct told him that he could take her now, that she wanted to be taken now. All he had to do was go to her, put his hands under that seemingly demure skirt, shove it above her thighs…
“You’re very direct,” he said, his voice a little thick as he pushed back his chair and got to his feet.
“I am.” She put her