Robin Nicholas - No Place Like Home

“Are you going to come back?”

Rafe seemed to await her answer as intently as his daughter, their dual gazes penetrating clear to her soul. Almost as if he wanted her to come back as much as Sunny wanted her to…

And for a moment Mariah’s desire to return had nothing to do with saving her job.

A whirl of emotion swept her, as unexpected as yesterday’s tornado. How had this happened so fast? How had she not seen this coming?

Sunny had her grandma, but that didn’t mean the child wouldn’t start to love her, only to be hurt when the time came for her to leave. As for Rafe—even if he did have feelings for her beyond the basic, which she doubted, he was the last kind of man she needed to fall for. There was no future for her here in “Oz.” And yet…

“Of course I’ll be back.”

Dear Reader,

You asked for more ROYALLY WED titles and you’ve got them! For the next four months we’ve brought back the Stanbury family—first introduced in a short story by Carla Cassidy on our www.millsandboon.co.ukWeb site. Be sure to check the archives to find Nicholas’s story! But don’t forget to pick up Stella Bagwell’s The Expectant Princess and discover the involving story of the disappearance of King Michael.

Other treats this month include Marie Ferrarella’s one hundredth title for Silhouette Books! This wonderful, charming and emotional writer shows her trademark warmth and humor in Rough Around the Edges. Luckily for all her devoted readers, Marie has at least another hundred plots bubbling in her imagination, and we’ll be seeing more from her in many of our Silhouette lines.

Then we’ve got Karen Rose Smith’s Tall, Dark & True about a strong, silent sheriff who can’t bear to keep quiet about his feelings any longer. And Donna Clayton’s heroine asks Who Will Father My Baby?—and gets a surprising answer. No Place Like Home by Robin Nicholas is a delightful read that reminds us of an all-time favorite movie—I’ll let you guess which one! And don’t forget first-time author Roxann Delaney’s debut title, Rachel’s Rescuer.

Next month be sure to return for The Blacksheep Prince’s Bride by Martha Shields, the next of the ROYALLY WED series. Also returning are popular authors Judy Christenberry and Elizabeth August.

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Books by Robin Nicholas

Silhouette Romance

The Cowboy and His Lady #1017

Wrangler’s Wedding #1049

Man, Wife and Little Wonder #1301

Cowboy Dad #1327

No Place Like Home #1508

ROBIN NICHOLAS

lives in Illinois with her husband, Dan, and their son, Nick. Her debut book, The Cowboy and His Lady, was part of the successful Silhouette Romance CELEBRATION 1000! promotion. And her third book, Man, Wife and Little Wonder, was Silhouette Romance’s featured BUNDLES OF JOY title.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

There was nothing like knowing she had to do something to trigger the stubborn side of Mariah Morgan’s normally outgoing nature.

Such was the case, as, south of the Kansas/Oklahoma border and several miles west of Highway 35, she opened the door to the dubious ambience of rundown Trixie’s Café. The vanity plates, STRMY F5, on the mud-splattered 4×4 sport utility truck parked outside told her she’d finally tracked down the elusive, reclusive “Stormy” Taylor. But instead of feeling relieved, she struggled with resentment.

A feature on the storm photographer could save her job at Plain View Magazine—so her editor said of her “lackluster work” of late. But she found it hard to get excited over a story on a thirty-five-year-old who chased tornadoes for a living. Only an ingrained aversion to poverty had brought her here.

A hot, dusty breeze trailed her through the door, tugging wisps of her curly, dark hair from its tidy bun. Slinging her purse strap over the shoulder of her royal blue short suit, she shut the door resolutely, sealing in an onslaught of onions and coffee. Conversation came in bursts laced with adjectives like snaky and hellish, and terms like vortex and dryline, all from an unkempt group who looked more than capable of chasing down tornadoes.

All eyes turned her way and talk ceased abruptly, save for the husky voice of a tawny-haired man seated at the far end of the counter. His wrinkled field shirt hung loose of his jeans, his back turned to her as he continued to drawl sexily into the cell phone he held to his ear.

“You know how to reach me, sweetheart. Just be waiting.”

There came a pause during which he seemed to notice the quiet. Half turning on the creaky stool he slouched on, he zeroed sharp hazel eyes on her as the cause of the sudden silence. His gaze turned cautious yet aware as he spoke succinctly into the phone. “Later, sweetheart.”

Mariah flushed hotly as he pocketed the phone. The responsive flutter in the pit of her stomach annoyed her. Only one kind of man eyed a woman that way when he was talking to his sweetheart.

She turned her attention to the group occupying the table in the center of the café, wondering which one was Stormy—the burly old man in coveralls, the dark-haired devil using a laptop or one of two slender young men who looked like they belonged on safari. Realizing she’d have done better to blend with this group clad in khaki and denim, she envisioned herself in her Levi’s and forced a smile.

“Hello. I’m Mariah Morgan from the Wichita office of Plain View Magazine. I noticed the plates on the white truck outside and wondered if one of you folks might be Stormy Taylor.”

Eyebrows raised. Skeptical glances were exchanged. No one offered a word.

Then a husky voice drawled from behind her, “I’m Rafe Taylor.”

Mariah clenched her jaw. Hanging on to her smile with effort, she faced those assessing eyes once more. “Mr. Taylor.”

The occupants of the table behind her snickered.

“Rafe will do.”

“Rafe, then.” She would remain gracious; she preferred gracious to groveling, which was probably closer to the truth, all things considered. He hadn’t responded to any messages she’d left him at his headquarters in some obscure little map dot in southwest Kansas called Tassel. His secretary had finally deigned to take her call, only to send her on this goose chase to track him down—an obvious ploy to discourage her. The death of his wife during a tornado last spring, leaving him with a daughter to raise, had apparently triggered an animosity for all journalists, not just those who went after his tragic story. With a confidence she didn’t feel, she continued, “Your secretary helped me locate you.”