Gwynne Forster - Private Lives

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“Kiss me, sweetheart.”

He had never addressed her with such an endearment. Did he mean it? She gazed into his eyes, exposing her vulnerability. His fingers, warm, strong and masculine, worked their magic on her bare back and arms, sending tremors through her. They set her on fire wherever he touched.

She knew she was out of her league, and that he would expect more than she knew how to give. Her lips trembled when she said, “I’m not sophisticated, Brock. I only look as if I am. You…you can teach me what every woman longs to know and feel, because it’s never been mine.”

She tensed when he sucked in his breath, but he tightened his hold on her and whispered, “Do you want me to teach you?”

“Yes. Oh, yes. I do. I do.”

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is a national bestselling author of twenty-three romance novels and novellas. She has also written four novels and a novella of general fiction. Gwynne has worked as a journalist, a university professor and as a senior officer for the United Nations. She holds B.A. and M.A. degrees in sociology, and an M.A. in economics/demography.

Gwynne sings in her church choir, loves to entertain at dinner parties, is a gourmet cook and an avid gardener. She enjoys jazz, opera, classical music and the blues. A devoted museum and art-gallery visitor, Gwynne lives in New York with her husband.

Essence Bestselling Author

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

I hope you’ve enjoyed this short period in the lives of Allison Sawyer and Brock Lightner. A woman and a man who, having tired of misplaced affection and ill-conceived perceptions of themselves, had decided to go it alone in the belief that having no relationship was better than the kinds of relationships they had in the past. Their struggles to deal with the possibility of true love are impeded by their unwillingness to take a chance, stubbornness and fear of the unknown—until the tide of love becomes so powerful that they haven’t the strength to resist it. I hope I’ve dealt well with these characters. I developed a particular affection for Brock, because I thought he knew how to support a woman in her endeavors without trying to make her dependent upon him—something Allison would not have tolerated.

Time was when the strong, harsh and hard hero was all the rage, but my taste is for men who have human frailties, but overcome them; who can hurt all the way to their souls and still stand strong for themselves, for their women and for their families; and who love their women above and beyond all else. I believe my hero is such a man. Let me know whether you agree.

Kimani Press is reissuing several of my early bestselling titles. Obsession, Beyond Desire and Secret Desire, all-time favorites with my readers, were the reissues for the year 2008. Swept Away, Fools Rush In and Scarlet Woman will be reissued in 2009. All of these are Kimani Arabesque titles, so keep a sharp lookout.

I love to receive mail, so don’t forget to keep my mailbox full. If you send me a self-addressed and stamped legal-size envelope, I’ll send you an autographed bookplate and information about my next release and my book-signing tours. You may write to me at P.O. Box 45, New York, New York 100044-0045. You can visit me online at www.gwynneforster.com.

My thanks for your continued support.

With best wishes,

Gwynne Forster

To my husband, whose strength and courage in the

face of personal difficulties is admirable beyond

words, and for his unswerving support and the joy,

the love with which he fills my life. And to my

stepson, a distinguished engineer, who always finds

time to install/explain/repair his parents’ computers,

printers, phones and other gadgets, to brighten our

lives in other ways and to travel several hundred miles

in order to do it. No woman has a more loving and

supportive husband and son. As always, I thank God

for my talents and for the opportunities to use them.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

So this was it! Allison Sawyer parked in front of the rustic-looking log cabin, turned off the engine and rested her head on the steering wheel of her blue Audi.

“What’s the matter, Mom?”

She put on her brightest smile and looked back at five-year-old Dudley. “Everything’s fine, son. Just fine.” She’d come to the right place. He’d never find them there. With the help of her older sister, Ellen, she hadn’t left any tracks to follow, or at least she’d hoped so. She got out, looked around and breathed deeply the Adirondack mountain air. She unlatched Dudley’s car seat, and he jumped out of the car, grabbed her hand and gazed up at her with a broad smile on his face. He loved the outdoors, and woods were all around them. She felt as if she was about to burst.

After a lifetime of trying to please first her father, whom she adored, and then her much older ex-husband, now she had to please only herself.

“I don’t really have any idea who I am,” she said under her breath as she unlocked the cabin door. “I guess I’m in for a surprise.” She walked into the cabin, which for the foreseeable future, would be her home. She looked around. Not bad, she thought. It could have been far worse, and the chances of Lawrence Sawyer finding her were remote.

Alexandria, Virginia’s muggy summer heat did not appeal to Brock Lightner any more than the garden parties and formal shindigs of his fancy friends and neighbors. He had no intention of trussing himself into a summer, white tuxedo like a turkey stuffed for Thanksgiving, just to escort his unattached female friends, society matrons and politicians’ wives to the round of Beltway receptions and parties. When he told them that he was a private investigator, their gazes would sometimes move from his face to his crotch. He had tried to let them know that just because his occupation was sometimes dangerous, it didn’t necessarily indicate sexual prowess. Now he was sick of it, and vowed that there’d be some changes made.

That morning Brock locked the back door of his Alexandria town house, got into his SUV with his German shepherd, Jack, and headed for the cabin he’d had custom-built to his specifications in the Adirondack Mountains. The one thing he hated about his mountain retreat was that he’d be without his piano for nearly a year. From now on, when he got the urge to make music, his guitar would have to suffice. As he drove, he envisioned the changes he’d make in his life. For starters, his days as a private investigator were behind him. When he returned to Alexandria, it would be to resume his career as a lawyer. For the next twelve months, though, he planned to write a memoir about his adventures as a private detective.