Susan Mallery: Completely Smitten

In our 2011 Bestselling Author Collection, Harlequin Books is proud to offer classic novels from today’s superstars of women’s fiction. These authors have captured the hearts of millions of readers around the world, and earned their place on the bestseller lists with every release.

As a bonus, each volume also includes a full-length novel from a rising star of series romance. Bestselling authors in their own right, these talented writers have captured the qualities Harlequin is famous for—heart-racing passion, edge-of-your-seat entertainment and a satisfying happily-ever-after.

Don’t miss any of the books in this year’s collection!

“Romance novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance, humor and superb storytelling.”

—Booklist on Accidentally Yours

“Susan Mallery’s stories will make you fall in love and laugh out loud.”

—#1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Debbie Macomber

“Mallery’s prose is luscious and provocative, and her characters worth following from book to book.”

—Publishers Weekly on Sizzling

Completely Smitten

Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my readers, with thanks.

And to my former editor, Karen Taylor Richman, who always loved this book.

COMPLETELY SMITTEN

SUSAN MALLERY

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

New York Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author

Susan Mallery

is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than ninety romances. Her combination of humor, emotion and just-plain-sexy has made her a reader favorite. Susan makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with her handsome husband and possibly the world’s cutest dog. Visit her website at www.SusanMallery.com.

All Kevin Harmon wanted was a beer, a burger and a bed, in that order. He’d had the kind of day designed to make a man rethink his career choices. He’d been bit, he was stuck in the middle of Kansas on a night that was practically guaranteed to produce twisters, and he’d just been offered a promotion. Not one thing was going right with his life. For once he wasn’t looking for trouble, so of course trouble came looking for him.

He’d been around long enough to know that when a pretty, wide-eyed blonde walked into a seedy roadside bar, somewhere, somehow, there was going to be hell to pay. Kevin was determined to stay out of the way. No matter what.

He turned his attention from the petite blonde back to the bartender. “Burger,” he said, pushing the plastic menu back at the man. “Extra fries.”

The bartender nodded and wrote something on a pad of paper, then set a frosty mug down on a once-white coaster advertising the local grange.

Kevin took a long drink. He’d just spent the better part of the day transporting a convicted felon across state lines. The process had not gone smoothly, which explained the bite on his arm. The skin hadn’t been broken, but he really hated when there was trouble on the road. If he hadn’t drawn the short straw, he would be down in Florida, helping with a drug raid. But no, he was stuck in Kansas where the air was so thick you could practically stand a spoon up in midair. The pressure was rising—or maybe falling—he could never remember which one caused storms to spin out of control and become tornados.

He’d grown up with twisters, back when he’d lived in Texas, and he’d never liked them. They always seemed to show up right when he was supposed to be whipping the crosstown rival at a baseball game.

Kevin thought about tornados and Texas. He even tried to remember if he needed to buy milk when he flew home the next day. Anything to keep from turning to watch the progress of the blonde. It wasn’t that she was so attractive that he couldn’t resist her. Far from it. Sure, she was pretty enough, but pretty was a dime a dozen.

Instead, what made him determined to stay out of it was the nervousness he’d seen lurking in her eyes, and the hesitation in her step. She belonged in this bar as much as a dog with mange belonged in church.

The bartender flipped on a small television. Instantly the sound of a ball game blasted into the half-full room. Kevin continued to drink his beer, while he stared determinedly at the screen. He ignored everything else, even the half sly, half defiant male laughter behind him.

Bullies moving in for the kill.

He swore under his breath as he set his mug on the bar and pulled off his cap. The one with U.S. Marshals embroidered on the front. He was hot, he was tired, he was hungry. The last thing he wanted tonight was a fight.

Since when did fate pay any attention to what he wanted?

He turned on the bar stool and surveyed the situation. The blonde stood between two big guys with more tattoos than sense. A third, smaller man, had his hand on her arm.

She was of medium height, maybe five-four or five-five, with short hair and big eyes, more blue than hazel. There wasn’t a speck of makeup on her face, but she was still attractive, with full lips and a stubborn-looking chin.

Her clothing choices made him wince. The shapeless short-sleeved dress she wore fell nearly to her ankles. It looked ugly enough to be embarrassed to be a dust cloth—with a white lace collar and some god-awful flower print. What was it about women and clothes with plants on them?

Kevin approached the quartet. The blonde struggled to break free of the little guy’s hold. When she looked up and saw him, relief filled her eyes.

“You with them?” he asked, getting more tired by the second.

She shook her head.

Kevin turned his full attention on the man holding her arm. “Then, son, you’d best let the lady go.”

One of the big guys took a step toward him. Kevin flexed his hands.

“I’ve had a bad day, gentlemen. I’m hungry, tired, and not in the mood. So you can walk away right now, or we can move it outside. I feel obliged to warn you that if we take this to the next level, the only one walking away will be me.”

Haley couldn’t believe it. She felt as if she was in one of those Clint Eastwood Dirty Harry movies her dad liked so much. She half expected to see the dark-haired man pull out a .357 Magnum and ask someone to make his day.

Instead, the skinny man with rabbit teeth who’d been holding her arm let go. He took a step back, holding up his hands and trying to smile.