Wendy Rosnau - A Younger Woman

“This is ridiculous. Do you think I won’t be missed? You can’t just lock me up and think no one will notice.” Margo circled back to the crux of the matter. “Keeping someone against their will is called kidnapping, Detective Archard, and that’s illegal.”

He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. “Right now the best thing for you is plenty of bed rest.”

Margo’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare chain me to this bed like a dog, Ry. You wouldn’t dare!”

“If you don’t think so, then you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Dear Reader,

Once again, we’ve rounded up six exciting romances to keep you reading all month, starting with the latest installment in Marilyn Pappano’s HEARTBREAK CANYON miniseries. The Sheriff’s Surrender is a reunion romance with lots of suspense, lots of passion—lots of emotion—to keep you turning the pages. Don’t miss it.

And for all of you who’ve gotten hooked on A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY, we’ve got The Way We Wed. Pat Warren does a great job telling this tale of a secret marriage between two SPEAR agents who couldn’t be more different—or more right for each other. Merline Lovelace is back with Twice in a Lifetime, the latest saga in MEN OF THE BAR H. How she keeps coming up with such fabulous books, I’ll never know—but I do know we’re all glad she does. Return to the WIDE OPEN SPACES of Alberta, Canada, with Judith Duncan in If Wishes Were Horses…. This is the kind of book that will have you tied up in emotional knots, so keep the tissues handy. Cheryl Biggs returns with Hart’s Last Stand, a suspenseful romance that will keep you turning the pages at a furious clip. Finally, don’t miss the debut of a fine new voice, Wendy Rosnau. A Younger Woman is one of those irresistible stories, and it’s bound to establish her as a reader favorite right out of the starting gate.

Enjoy them all, then come back next month for more of the best and most exciting romance reading around—only in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

lives on sixty secluded acres in the northwoods of Minnesota with her husband and their two energetic teenagers. A former hairdresser, she now divides her time between operating the bookstore she and her husband opened in 1998, keeping one step ahead of her two crafty kids and writing romance. In her spare time she enjoys reading, painting and drawing, traveling and, most of all, spending time with those two crafty kids and their dad.

A great believer in the power of love and the words never give up, Wendy says that reaching her goal of becoming a published author is a testimony that dreams can and do come true. You can write to her at P.O. Box 441, Brainerd, Minnesota 56401. For a personal reply send SASE.

To my mom and dad for always being there for me—

awesome job on the bookshelves and my table, Dad—

I love you.

To my father-in-law for his humor, and to my mother-in-law for putting on wings and rescuing me so often in my hour of need.

And always, to Jerry, the rock that keeps me grounded, and to Tyler and Jenni for knowing it all and loving me anyway.

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

Through the lens of her camera Margo zeroed in on the pier and brought into focus her brother, Blu, and the stranger. They were an odd pair, she decided, and wondered who the smart dresser was and what was so important that it required a meeting with the Blu Devil on a lonely pier at night.

They shook hands, ignoring the September rain soaking their clothes. The heavy mist gave the streetlights a distorted, eerie glow, making Margo’s task harder. She was no master photographer, but Blu hadn’t asked for a professional job, just visible proof that the exchange had taken place.

She hadn’t asked what was being exchanged. Frankly, she didn’t want to know. No, this wasn’t about the right or wrong of anything. Her sole purpose for being in Algiers tonight instead of New Orleans behind the piano at the Toucan Lounge had nothing to do with morality and everything to do with sisterly love.

The night air had turned into a sponge, sharpening the odor of rotting fish and river decay. Margo wrinkled up her nose and swiped at her long, black hair. She could hear the constant slapping of the water against the boats tied dockside, feel the tropical air sucking her jeans closer to her slender, boyish hips.

Anxious to get out of the weather, she squinted through the camera lens and focused on Blu pulling something from his back pocket. Deciding this must be it, this was the exchange, she quickly clicked the shutter, then advanced the film. She had just raised the camera to take a second picture when a gunshot exploded out of the darkness. Frozen in motion, Margo watched in horror as the stranger jerked hard to the right, then crumpled at her brother’s feet.

An involuntary scream climbed her throat, and she dropped the camera, vaguely aware that it shattered as it hit the asphalt. Mindless of the impending danger, she bolted from her hiding place and started to run toward the waterfront. As she reached the pier and climbed the steps, the pungent odor of cordite confirmed that she was now very much in the path of the melee. More shots erupted from somewhere behind her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, crying out at the same time. Sheer panic overwhelmed her, but Margo’s fear for her brother’s safety overrode her fear for herself, and she forced herself to move forward.

As if the gunfire had opened up the sky and made the gods angry, a deluge of rain fed the sudden craziness. For a moment Margo thought the rain would be their salvation, and for one split second it was—she slipped on the wet planking and went down hard. Seconds later, on her knees, a bullet whizzed past her head. She struggled back to her feet, her ears ringing, her knees bruised and throbbing. She searched out the spot where she’d last seen Blu, only to find he was no longer standing but sprawled on his back next to the unmoving stranger.

“No! Please, God, no!”

Margo’s stomach convulsed. Fighting for air, she reached out and gripped the pier railing to keep from going over the side, her legs two disjointed pieces of rubber. She squeezed her eyes shut and began to pray fast and furiously, demanding that God hear her immediate need. When she was finished, over the pounding rain, she heard him. No, it wasn’t God, but the voice was just as powerful, just as wonderful. She imagined the Almighty wouldn’t have approved of her brother’s choice of words, but Blu’s deep voice scalding the air with profanity was sweet music to her ears—so much so that she began to cry.

Through happy tears, Margo watched Blu lift his dark head and lock gazes with her. A second later he was cussing again. “Bon Dieu, Chili! Get the hell off the pier! Are you nuts?”

His pet nickname for her made Margo cry harder—she and Blu had been so close growing up—so close in age and appearance that they had often been thought to be twins, though he was three years older.