Linda Turner - A Hero To Count On

Katherine screamed again, and Hunter’s heart stopped dead in his chest. Swearing, he took the stairs two at a time to get to her.

Feeling like he was running in quicksand, it seemed to take him an eternity to reach the top of the stairs. Katherine didn’t scream again, but that did little to reassure him. She couldn’t scream if someone had knocked her out…or killed her.

Something squeezed his heart at the thought. No, dammit! She wasn’t dead, and anyone who even thought about hurting her was going to have to deal with him.

Dear Reader,

I’ve heard of writers who write romance novels by formula: the hero and heroine meet by page 5, the first kiss is by page 50, the first love scene should begin by page 150, etc, etc. I don’t do that. I have to let a story evolve and give the characters the space they need to come together. And my editor, thank God, indulges me! So sometimes the hero and heroine don’t meet until the twenty-first page of the manuscript—as they do in A Hero to Count On—but it’s worth the wait. Especially when you have a hero and heroine like Hunter Sinclair and Katherine Wyatt. I love the chemistry between them…and the sass. Writing their story was great fun, and I have to say that so far, this is my favorite of the BROKEN ARROW RANCH series. But then again, I feel that way about all my books when I finish them! I hope you do, too.

Enjoy!

Linda Turner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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LINDA TURNER

began reading romance novels in high school and began writing them one night when she had nothing else to read. She’s been writing ever since. Single and living in Texas, she travels every chance she gets, scouting locales for her books.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Lying in her boyfriend’s arms, her heart still pounding from their loving, Katherine Wyatt felt like crying. How many evenings had they spent like this? After two years she couldn’t remember. She just knew that, even though she loved Nigel with all her heart, she needed more from him than sex. “We need to talk,” she said huskily.

“If this is about me breaking our date last weekend, I’m sorry, love, but I had to go to Paris again. There was a last-minute glitch in an acquisition, and the entire deal would have fallen through if I hadn’t taken a personal hand in things. Don’t be mad. I was just doing my job.”

He was always “just doing his job.” She tried to understand, but ever since she’d known him, Paris had been a problem. It seemed like every time they made plans to do something special, he had to travel to Paris to take care of some kind of glitch with the import/export business he’d inherited from his father.

She tried, however, not to complain. She’d had boyfriends who couldn’t keep a job, who didn’t work, who expected her to loan them money. She never had to worry about that with Nigel. He not only worked hard, he always paid for everything when they were together and spoiled her with wonderful gifts. How could she find fault with that?

Considering all that, she knew she should have been happy. He was a wonderful man—generous and loving, affectionate, honest and kind. He was, in fact, everything she could want…except her husband.

“I want to get married.”

The second she said the words, he stiffened. She wasn’t surprised. She’d tried discussing marriage with him before, but every time the word came up, he found a way to change the subject. Not this time. She wanted a husband, children, a home with toys and dogs and a swing in the yard. If he wasn’t interested in having the same thing, then she had some hard decisions to make about continuing their relationship.

“I know you swore you’d never get married again after your divorce, but I’m not Cynthia. I’m nothing like her. I’m not going to hurt you or take you to the cleaners—”

Setting her away from him, he reached for his pants. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” she asked, hurt. “We’ve been dating for two years! I love you. I want to have your children while I’m still young enough to enjoy them.”

“Sweetheart, you’re only twenty-eight!”

“I’ll be twenty-nine next month,” she said. “I’m ready to settle down. If you’re not, then at least give me some idea of when you will be. Give me some kind of hope.”

For a moment she didn’t think he was going to answer her. Pulling on his shirt, his face set in grim lines, he didn’t look at her as he tucked in his shirt, then sat down to tug on his shoes and tie them. She’d never seen him so somber.

Suddenly chilled, without quite knowing why, she pulled on a robe and quickly belted it around her waist. Even then, she wasn’t ready for what he had to say when she turned to face him.

“Cynthia’s not my ex-wife,” he said bluntly. “She’s my wife. I lied when I told you we were divorced. We’ve been married for three years.”

Stunned, she gasped. Married. He was married? “No! You can’t be. You’re lying.”

“We have a home in Paris…and a one-year-old son. That’s why I had to fly home last weekend. He was sick.”

His words hit her like a knife in the heart. Horrified, she looked at him as if she’d never seen him before. “You had a son a year after you and I started sleeping together?”

“It wasn’t planned, Katherine—”

“Do you think that matters?” she cried. “You’re married! While your wife was pregnant, you were having sex with me. And you obviously don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“She didn’t know. She never has to know. I wouldn’t be telling you if you weren’t pressing me to get married.”

Stunned, Katherine couldn’t believe he was serious. “So it’s all right for you to cheat on your wife and son and lie to me as long as you’re the only one who knows the truth? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, of course not,” he retorted, scowling. “But telling the truth isn’t always the best policy. People get hurt…”

“So you’re saying it’s all right to lie?” When he didn’t deny it, she looked at him in confusion. “I don’t know you anymore. I’m beginning to wonder if I ever did. Who are you? How can you be so cold and unfeeling?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he growled, stung. “You know that.”

“You hurt me—and your wife and son—the first time you flirted with me. You betrayed us all when you had sex with me without telling me the truth.”

“It wasn’t just sex—”

“Of course it was,” she snapped. “What else could it be? You vowed to love and honor another woman till death do you part.”

“But—”

“Don’t you dare say that didn’t mean you couldn’t love someone else,” she cut in coldly. “The only person you love is yourself. Does your wife know who you are? Does she have a clue what kind of man you are?”