Sylvie Kurtz - Ms. Longshot

Dear Reader,

When my editor suggested I give Alexa a prosthetic leg, I wondered how I could turn her into an action/adventure heroine worthy of a Bombshell book. How could a woman with that handicap possibly work undercover and kick butt? I scoured the Internet for information and still wondered how I could make this assignment work. Then I was fortunate to meet a woman who showed me that the only thing that could get in Alexa’s way was her own thoughts. Throwing Alexa out of her Ralph Lauren world and into Levi’s and leading her through an adventure that gave her a much-needed attitude adjustment turned out to be a lot of fun! I hope you enjoy reading Alexa’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Sincerely,

Sylvie Kurtz

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Sylvie Kurtz for her contribution to the The It Girls series.

ISBN: 9781408946206

Ms. Longshot

© Harlequin Books S.A. 2005

First Published in Great Britain in 2005

Harlequin (UK) Limited

Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, including without limitation xerography, photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

This ebook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the prior consent of the publisher, in any form or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters in this work have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.á.r.l.

® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Silhouette Bombshell

Personal Enemy #29

†Ms. Longshot #70

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**Heart of a Hunter #767

**Mask of a Hunter #773

A Rose at Midnight #822

**Eye of a Hunter #866

*Flesh and Blood

**The Seekers

SYLVIE KURTZ

Flying an eight-hour solo cross-country in a Piper Arrow with only the airplane’s crackling radio and a large bag of M&M’s for company, Sylvie Kurtz realized a pilot’s life wasn’t for her. The stories zooming in and out of her mind proved more entertaining than the flight itself. Not a quitter, she finished her pilot’s course and earned her commercial license and instrument rating.

Since then, she has traded in her wings for a keyboard, where she lets her imagination soar to create fictional adventures that explore the power of love and the thrill of suspense. When not writing, she enjoys the outdoors with her husband and two children, quilt-making, photography and reading whatever catches her interest.

You can write to Sylvie at P.O. Box 702, Milford, NH 03055. And visit her Web site at www.sylviekurtz.com.

For Cassie—a Bombshell in training

A special thank-you:

To Amy Schiff for sharing her story with me.

Definitely a Bombshell heroine!

Samantha at Hair Force for helping

me with my dyeing dilemma

Ann Voss Peterson for sharing

horse trailer stories

About the Author

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

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

COMING NEXT MONTH

New York City. December. Ten years ago.

The second-floor bathroom of the Constance Gramercy School for Girls was crowded as usual. I elbowed my way to the mirror and puckered up to see if the zit I’d felt growing on my chin in social science had popped up. Wouldn’t you know it, the timing sucked. I had a horse show in the morning.

Nathalie Huston, my best friend since we’d bitten each other the first day of kindergarten, came pounding through the door, big boobs leading the way and her long, black ponytail flying behind her. She’d had that magnificent chest since she was eleven. At fifteen, I was still waiting for mine to show up. My mother said British roses took longer to bloom, which only made me wish I’d inherited more of my father’s American genes.

Back of the hand pressed to her forehead, Nat paused and sighed dramatically. Of course the contrast of Wedgwood-blue eyes and raven hair had made her dramatic from birth. I couldn’t help smiling.

“What’s wrong this time, Nat?” I turned back to the mirror and swiped boring clear lipgloss—the only kind the builds-the-character rules allowed—across my lips.

“Oh, Alexa, I can’t take it anymore.” Nat plopped her book bag against the white sink and checked to see if what little makeup was allowed needed retouching. “I simply can’t sit through Mr. Ziegler’s algebra class today.” She sniffed in perfect imitation of Mr. Ziegler’s postnasal drip problem and pushed nonexistent glasses up her nose—just as Mr. Ziegler would do. “Forty minutes of that is enough to drive anyone nuts. Like what am I ever going to use algebra for anyway?”

I didn’t mind math. I was kind of good at it, actually. Daddy kept telling me I had a head for business and, as uncool as that was, I liked hearing him say it.

“Let’s cut last period,” Nat whispered. She stretched open the top of her Gucci bag and showed off the fresh pack of smokes.

“It’s raining,” I said with a sigh. No need to look outside for a weather update. Not with the frizz I had going. Even in a French braid, even inside, even with half a bottle of Aveda frizz tamer, the humidity made my mahogany curls look like one of the rusted Brillo pads in the science lab.