“I’m not pretending to care about you because I’m concerned about you. I’m concerned because I care.”
Arden wanted to believe him but was afraid to trust him, afraid to trust her own feelings for Shaun. There were still things she didn’t want Shaun to know. Things she might never be ready to tell him.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out that the fire in your apartment was deliberately set? Did you think I wouldn’t connect this arson to the last letter you received?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—I don’t—” She remembered his reaction after the fire: his fear and concern, and the way he’d made love to her, slowly and tenderly, until she felt as if she were really cherished. “I’m not used to having people worry about me.”
“Then you’ll have to get used to it,” Shaun said. “Because I’m not going away.”
Dear Reader,
Our exciting month of May begins with another of bestselling author and reader favorite Fiona Brand’s Australian Alpha heroes. In Gabriel West: Still the One, we learn that former agent Gabriel West and his ex-wife have spent their years apart wishing they were back together again. And their wish is about to come true, but only because Tyler needs protection from whoever is trying to kill her—and Gabriel is just the man for the job.
Marie Ferrarella’s crossline continuity, THE MOM SQUAD, continues, and this month it’s Intimate Moments’ turn. In The Baby Mission, a pregnant special agent and her partner develop an interest in each other that extends beyond police matters. Kylie Brant goes on with THE TREMAINE TRADITION with Entrapment, in which wickedly handsome Sam Tremaine needs the heroine to use the less-than-savory parts of her past to help him capture an international criminal. Marilyn Tracy offers another story set on her Rancho Milagro, or Ranch of Miracles, with At Close Range, featuring a man scarred—inside and out—and the lovely rancher who can help heal him. And in Vickie Taylor’s The Last Honorable Man, a mother-to-be seeks protection from the man she’d been taught to view as the enemy—and finds a brand-new life for herself and her child in the process. In addition, Brenda Harlan makes her debut with McIver’s Mission, in which a beautiful attorney who’s spent her life protecting families now finds that she is in danger—and the handsome man who’s designated himself as her guardian poses the greatest threat of all.
Enjoy! And be sure to come back next month for more of the best romantic reading around, right here in Intimate Moments.
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
McIver’s Mission
Brenda Harlen
BRENDA HARLEN
grew up in a small town, surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as an attorney (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up the “real” job to be a mom and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book—an RWA Golden Heart Winner—to Silhouette.
Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (“too many books,” according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with “real” people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at [email protected] or by snail mail c/o Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279.
This book is for Neill,
my husband and my hero, for always believing.
And for Connor and Ryan,
heroes-in-training, for giving me a reason to follow my dreams.
With thanks to:
Sheryl Davis, Sharon May and Kate Weichelt, for their critiquing expertise and priceless friendship;
Tom Torrance,
for teaching me more about writing romance than I thought a man ever could;
and Susan Litman,
for loving this story enough to buy it.
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 18
Chapter 1
Laid to rest.
The words taunted Arden Doherty with the illusion of comfort, the suggestion of peace. There had been little peace in the lives of Denise and Brian Hemingway, even less in the way their lives had been taken from them. Abruptly. Tragically. Unnecessarily.
Arden turned away from the gathering. Her absence wouldn’t be noticed by the small crowd of mourners who’d come to say goodbye. She wasn’t family; she hadn’t been a friend. There was no reason to stay any longer, nothing she could do now.
Still, she glanced back one more time, not sure why she felt compelled to take that final look. She knew she’d never forget the image of those two glossy wood coffins, side by side—one less than four feet in length—gleaming in the late-September sun.
Just as she’d never forget that she was responsible for them being there.
Arden walked briskly, as if she might outdistance her thoughts, her grief, her guilt. She paused outside the cemetery gates to put on her sunglasses. The dark lenses cut the bright glare of the afternoon sun and masked the tears that burned behind her eyes. She desperately tried to switch mental gears, to think of something, anything but the mother and son who would soon be buried.
She turned into Woodfield Park, her steps slowing as the top of the courthouse came into view: thick stone walls; gleaming, multifaceted windows; towering white pillars. More impressive to Arden than the architecture of the building was what went on inside. The law was a complicated piece of machinery that churned tirelessly, if not always successfully.
The building was a visible symbol of the unending fight for truth and justice. Arden had dedicated her life to that same fight, and her own office was just down the street, where she could look out her window and see the peaked roof of the courthouse. Sometimes that glimpse was all she needed to remember why she’d become a family law attorney: to fight for the women and children who couldn’t fight for themselves.
Today, she wasn’t feeling very inspired, and she wasn’t ready to go back to the office. Not yet. She needed a few minutes by herself to grieve, to acknowledge the helplessness that now seemed so overwhelming. She found a vacant bench nestled in the shelter of towering oak trees and settled against the wooden slats, confident that she was hidden from the pedestrian traffic on the path by the massive stone fountain. Here, if not solace, she could at least have solitude.