Harper Allen - Sullivan's Last Stand

He’d done his best to protect her from himself

And all right—maybe his best was one hell of a poor effort, but he’d tried, dammit. He’d never said he was a saint. That was why he’d stayed away from her since the last time—because he knew his limitations when it came to Bailey Flowers.

But then she’d come back into his life. And now she was asking him to destroy the last scrap of feeling she might have for him.

“You shouldn’t have come back, Bailey.” He kept his voice even, but he could feel a muscle twitching at the side of his jaw. “I told you how it would turn out.”

Her eyes widened. “In bed together, or at each other’s throats,” she said flatly. “And I told you that the second scenario was the more likely one. It seems I was right.”

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

What’s bigger than Texas…? Montana! This month, Harlequin Intrigue takes you deep undercover to the offices of MONTANA CONFIDENTIAL. You loved the series when it first premiered in the Lone Star State, so we’ve created a brand-new set of sexy cowboy agents for you farther north in Big Sky country. Patricia Rosemoor gets things started in Someone To Protect Her. Three more installments follow—and I can assure you, you won’t want to miss one!

Amanda Stevens concludes her dramatic EDEN’S CHILDREN miniseries with The Forgiven. All comes full circle in this redemptive story that reunites mother and child.

What would you do if your “wife” came back from the dead? Look for In His Wife’s Name for the answer. In a very compelling scenario, Joyce Sullivan explores the consequences of a hidden identity and a desperate search for the truth.

Rounding out the month is the companion story to Harper Allen’s miniseries THE AVENGERS. Sullivan’s Last Stand, like its counterpart Guarding Jane Doe, is a deeply emotional story about a soldier of fortune and his dedication to duty. Be sure to pick up both titles by this exceptional new author.

Cowboys, cops—action, drama…it’s just another month of terrific romantic suspense from Harlequin Intrigue.

Happy reading!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

P.S. Be sure to watch for the next title in Rebecca York’s 43 LIGHT STREET trilogy, MINE TO KEEP, available in October.

Sullivan’s Last Stand

Harper Allen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Harper Allen lives in the country in the middle of a hundred acres of maple trees with her husband, Wayne, six cats, four dogs—and a very nervous cockatiel at the bottom of the food chain. For excitement she and Wayne drive to the nearest village and buy jumbo bags of pet food. She believes in love at first sight because it happened to her.

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

468—THE MAN THAT GOT AWAY

547—TWICE TEMPTED

599—WOMAN MOST WANTED

628—GUARDING JANE DOE*

632—SULLIVAN’S LAST STAND*

Bailey Flowers—A year ago Sullivan broke her heart. Now she’s back in his life again…with a score to settle and a sister to find.

Terrence Patrick Sullivan—The tough ex-mercenary can’t undo the mistakes of his past. But he’s determined not to repeat them—and Bailey was his biggest mistake.

Angelica Plowright—Bailey’s beautiful blond sister was smart enough to hold out for marriage to a billionaire. She just wasn’t smart enough to realize that money isn’t everything.

Aaron Plowright—The well-known billionaire is always a popular subject for the photographer’s lens—and now his illicit weekend with a mystery woman has been caught on film.

Tracy Weiss—The ambitious attorney has a professional connection to Plowright. It’s rumored she has a personal relationship with him, as well.

Ainslie O’Connell—Sullivan’s half sister loves him dearly, but she’s afraid that history will repeat itself.

For Michael

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

He hadn’t changed at all in one year. He was still the most gorgeous male she’d ever seen.

She might have known, Bailey thought in resignation, crossing her arms and waiting for him to see her standing in the doorway. Telephone receiver cradled on his shoulder, his eyes closed and a wry smile lifting one corner of his mouth, Terrence Patrick Sullivan was in full spate, slouched so far back in his leather chair that by rights he should have tipped the thing over. Long legs were propped up on the paper-strewn surface of his desk.

She gave an audible snort and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes fly open as his startled gaze met hers.

“Whoever she is, she’ll have to call you back,” she said dryly. “Hang up the phone, Sully. We’ve got to talk.”

She’d been right. He was even more heart-stoppingly handsome than she remembered, she thought with a spurt of irritation as he gave her a quick glance. Really, that was a big part of his problem. Would women have been throwing themselves at the man the way they had for most of his thirty-odd years if he hadn’t been blessed with those dark navy eyes and those thick sooty lashes? Would he have been able to have his pick of female companionship without that glossy black hair brushing the collars of his Armani suits, or the linebacker shoulders that filled out the jackets of those same suits?

Probably, she conceded in annoyance. Because even if he’d had nothing else going for him, Terrence Patrick Sullivan was a charmer. Women adored him. Men liked him. Children trusted him, dogs followed him home, and although he parked his Jaguar near a tree at the back of the building here, she’d seen with her own eyes that the pigeons that roosted in it would spatter everyone else’s car except his.

He was pond scum.

“Listen, something’s come up, sugar,” he was saying into the phone now. “But I’ll see you tonight like we planned. Uh-huh, seven o’clock. SWKA, baby-doll.”

“I see you still use the old sign-off, as well. But I must have rattled you, Sullivan—it’s SWAK, not SWKA.” Unfolding her arms and shoving herself from the door frame as he abruptly hung up, Bailey crossed the carpeted floor to his desk. She pulled out a chair and plopped herself negligently down in it. Swinging her own jean-clad legs up, she put her feet on a pile of papers next to his. “Unless you meant Sealed With Kiss A,” she added.

“Tara’s a great kid, but she’s not that big on spelling. I’m doubting she noticed.” He met her eyes. “My sister Ainslie’s twelve-year-old goddaughter, Bailey. I’m taking her and Lee out for pizza tonight.”