B.J. Daniels - Premeditated Marriage

She wanted him to offer a good excuse for why he’d screwed up his carburetor, why he’d pretended to need a mechanic, why he’d been looking for Charlie Larkin in the first place.

She could see the battle going on in his eyes. Deep dark blue eyes like the bottom of the ocean. She watched him clench his hands into fists, his broad, muscular back to her, suddenly making her take notice of his size. Her gaze dropped to the jeans he wore and the muscled legs she could make out through the denim. A flicker of heat a lot like desire found flame inside her. He walked away from her so swiftly that she was startled.

But she knew that wasn’t what she had to fear from Gus Riley. It was the way he made her feel. Vulnerable, the way an animal can sense weakness in his prey. It was as if Gus could see beneath the baggy clothing to that unfulfilled ache deep within her like an Achilles’ heel.

And that couldn’t have been more dangerous to her….

www.millsandboon.co.uk

B.J. Daniels sets her latest book in the backwoods of Montana, a place she knows well. She’s lived in Montana since she was five, when her family moved to a cabin her father built in the Gallatin Canyon.

A former award-winning journalist, B.J. had thirty-six short stories published before she wrote and sold her first romantic suspense, Odd Man Out, which was later nominated for the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best First Book and Best Harlequin Intrigue.

B.J. lives in Bozeman with her husband, Parker, two springer spaniels, Zoey and Scout, and an irascible tomcat named Jeff. She is a member of the Bozeman Writers Group and Romance Writers of America. To contact her, write P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, MT59771.

Augustus T. Riley—The true-crime writer specializes in women who kill their lovers, and now he has Charlotte “Charlie” Larkin in his sights.

Charlotte “Charlie” Larkin—She thought her luck with men was bad. But Augustus T. Riley proves it can get a whole lot worse….

Trudi Murphy—She has a lot to offer men—and does.

Quinn Simonson—He and “Charlie” were high school sweethearts until his car missed a turn on the lake road.

Phil Simonson—The chain-saw artist blames Charlotte for his son’s death.

Jenny Lee-Simonson—Jenny Lee was Charlotte’s best friend until she married into the Simonson family.

Forest Simonson—Is his hatred of Charlotte only because of his brother’s death? Or is there more to it?

Josh Whitacker—Everyone wants to know how his body ended up at the bottom of the lake.

Wayne Dreyer—He’s devoted to more than the old Chevy his father gave him.

T. J. Blue—Is he just the strong, silent type? Or is he hiding something?

Vera Larkin—Charlotte’s mother is sicker than she knows, and her daughter is determined to protect her.

Selma Royal—Everyone believes the old maid can see the future. But what does she see for her niece Charlie?

Rickie Moss—He learned the hard way what getting close to Charlotte “Charlie” Larkin could cost him.

Earlene Kurtz—Everyone in town knew she was pregnant with Quinn Simonson’s baby seven years ago, including Charlotte.

This book is dedicated to my Aunt Susie in Houston, Texas, in memory of the love of her life, her hero and husband, T. O. Gressett.

Prologue

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

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Late September

The warm harvest moon cast a silver sheen over the lake and the naked young lovers standing waist deep in the still summer-warm water. Just yards away, crouched in the darkness of the pines, a lone figure watched, trying to decide whether to kill them both now—or wait.

They shouldn’t have been here.

No one came up the weed-choked road to Freeze Out Lake anymore. Not after all the tragedies. No one was fool enough to come near the place late at night—let alone swim in the eerie dark waters.

Except for these two.

They began to stroke each other, their mouths hungry as their hands caressed wet bodies shimmering in the moonlight, the boy’s shoulders muscled, the girl’s breasts large and white, bobbing in the water.

The boy lured her out deeper into the lake in a sort of sex-driven tag where he dived beneath the water, making the girl giggle and pretend to fight him off, daring her to swim farther and farther from the shore. The lake was low, lower than it had been in years because of the recent drought, making it dangerously shallow.

The boy swam away from her, calling for her to follow him as he dived and splashed. But a few dozen yards from the shore, the boy disappeared under the water and the girl slowed as if sensing the danger.

Suddenly the boy surfaced like a porpoise. “Hey!” he called, his voice a little unsteady. “There’s something out here!”

“What is it?” The girl stopped swimming.

Letting them live was no longer an option.

“What is it?” the girl called again, alarm in her voice.

“I don’t know.” He sounded scared now, his voice rising, echoing off the bank of trees that surrounded the small, remote lake. “Whatever it is, I’m standing on part of it.” Sealing his fate, he disappeared beneath the surface.

The girl continued to tread water, her attention on the spot where the boy had vanished, seemingly unaware of the movement in the trees behind her. A branch cracked in the underbrush.

She jerked her head around, her gaze riveting on a spot in the trees, a look of alarm skewing her expression as if she’d seen something moving through the darkness toward her and the boy.

The rumble of a vehicle off in the distance distracted her for just an instant—just long enough that when she focused again on the spot in the trees, it was clear she no longer saw movement. But it was also clear from the look on her face that she saw something. Maybe the shape of the person standing in the shadows of the pines at the edge of the moon-drenched shore. Or maybe just the glint of the filet knife’s long, sharp blade.

Abruptly the boy’s head broke the surface in a spray of silver droplets. He began to swim in wild, frantic strokes toward the shore and the pile of clothing so carelessly discarded earlier.

“What’s wrong?” the girl cried. “What is it?”

“Get out of the water!” the boy screamed, his moonlit face twisted in horror as he beat the water with his arms and legs, swimming madly for the shore and what he foolishly thought would be safety.

The sound of an engine grew louder. Someone was coming up the lake road. Lights flickered erratically through the dark branches just before a pickup burst out into the open, stopping at the edge of the water.

“Oh God, it’s my dad!” the girl gulped. She was still yards from shore and her clothing—trapped and naked as sin.

The unforgiving moon illuminated her as she sunk, neck deep in the water, neck deep in trouble. But she would never know just how much trouble she’d really been in—before her father had showed up.