Paula Riggs - Daddy With A Badge

She blinked. “How much time, exactly?”

The cagey little note in her voice had him smiling inside. He liked that in her, the determination to surrender only on her terms. Because he wanted her complete cooperation when they finally consummated this edgy chemistry they generated without even trying, he steeled himself to give her room to maneuver. But not too much room.

And not too much time. Twenty years was a long time to burn for a woman.

That decided, he allowed his private smile to show on his face. “I’m booked on the red-eye tomorrow night.”

She took a deep, shaky breath. “In that case, you’d better stay for dinner.”

Dear Reader,

The excitement continues in Intimate Moments. First of all, this month brings the emotional and exciting conclusion of A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY. In Familiar Stranger, Sharon Sala presents the final confrontation with the archvillain known as Simon—and you’ll finally find out who he really is. You’ll also be there as Jonah revisits the woman he’s never forgotten and decides it’s finally time to make some important changes in his life.

Also this month, welcome back Candace Camp to the Intimate Moments lineup. Formerly known as Kristin James, this multitalented author offers a Hard-Headed Texan who lives in A LITTLE TOWN IN TEXAS, which will enthrall readers everywhere. Paula Detmer Riggs returns with Daddy with a Badge, another installment in her popular MATERNITY ROW miniseries—and next month she’s back with Born a Hero, the lead book in our new Intimate Moments continuity, FIRSTBORN SONS. Complete the month with Moonglow, Texas, by Mary McBride, Linda Castillo’s Cops and…Lovers? and new author Susan Vaughan’s debut book, Dangerous Attraction.

By the way, don’t forget to check out our Silhouette Makes You a Star contest on the back of every book.

We hope to see you next month, too, when not only will FIRSTBORN SONS be making its bow, but we’ll also be bringing you a brand-new TALL, DARK AND DANGEROUS title from award-winning Suzanne Brockmann. For now…enjoy!

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

discovers material for her writing in her varied life experiences. During her first five years of marriage to a naval officer, she lived in nineteen different locations on the West Coast, gaining familiarity with places as diverse as San Diego and Seattle. While working at a historical site in San Diego she wrote, directed and narrated fashion shows and became fascinated with the early history of California.

She writes romances because “I think we all need an escape from the high-tech pressures that face us every day, and I believe in happy endings. Isn’t that why we keep trying, in spite of all the roadblocks and disappointments along the way?”

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

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

He was alive. Barely. Now it was up to the cardiac team to keep him that way.

Sweat-stained and exhausted after the frantic struggle to keep the patient from bleeding to death, the surgeon in charge of the Level-1 trauma unit at George Washington University Hospital stripped off her bloody gown and gloves before heading down the sterile corridor in search of the patient’s family.

While she and her team had been battling the almost impossible odds, a crowd had gathered—predominantly large, solemn-faced, broad-shouldered men with narrowed, watchful eyes.

Among the group were the two men who had ridden in the ambulance with the ashen-faced man now in surgery, their once pristine shirts bloodied while performing CPR until the medics had arrived.

All were members of the Special Investigations Branch of the Secret Service. The patient, Rafael Cardoza, was a senior agent in the same branch. His weapon as well as his badge and ID had been vouchered by the admitting clerk after they’d cut off his blood-soaked clothing.

Falling silent as she approached, they stood stiffly the way people do when they feel helpless, hands in the pockets of conservative suit coats, their carefully unobtrusive ties loosened, the requisite dark sunglasses tucked away in breast pockets.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, is Agent Cardoza’s family here yet?” she asked, her voice reflecting her utter weariness.

In answer to her question, most looked toward a solid, massively muscled man in his mid-fifties who stood to one side of the crowded corridor, alone in a little island of deference. A pleasantly homely man, he had thick iron-gray hair, a granite jaw and steely blue eyes.

“Cardoza’s parents are in Oregon. According to his wishes, they’re to be notified only in the event of his death.” He stopped, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

“He’s alive,” the surgeon hastened to assure him.

“Thank God.” He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “I’m his immediate superior and his friend. Name’s Lincoln Slocum in case you need to know.” That done, he sharpened his gaze. “Fill me in.”

Though he spoke quietly, she had a ridiculous urge to snap to attention. She recognized the name as the newly appointed Director of the Secret Service, though in reality the photo in the Washington Post hadn’t come close to portraying the powerful life force of the man.

“Agent Cardoza was hit twice in the chest,” she related in a voice that was equally quiet. “One of the bullets punctured his left lung, the other may have nicked his aorta, which is why Dr. Forchet took him straight to the OR as soon as his blood pressure was stabilized.”

He accepted that impassively, with only a slight movement of his stern mouth to betray his feelings. “Worst-case scenario?”

“He’s lost a great deal of blood, which makes surgery extremely risky. His heart might also have been damaged. Dr. Forchet won’t know until he cracks the chest.”

No one spoke. The tension was palpable, a lethal black energy that seemed to suck all the air from the surrounding space. The silence was broken by a frustrated curse.

Finally Director Slocum released a long breath. “Rafe’s as tough as they come. He’ll make it.”

She thought about the stripped-down body she’d seen only in clinical terms—lean and muscular and larger than average, bronzed where his skin had been exposed to the sun, paler where it had not. His shoulders were wide and packed with latent power, the torso long and corded with hard muscle, the waist narrow. Without an ounce of extra fat on the long frame, every superbly developed muscle, tendon and sinew had been outlined perfectly like an anatomy lesson come to life.

In spite of the Latin name, the man had a Viking’s golden coloring and height. She’d had only a glimpse of his features before the second-year resident had inserted a breathing tube, but the rough-cut features had been overlaid with a rugged strength. Masculinity personified, she thought with a giddiness born of exhaustion. A beautiful tawny gold man with a heart that had faltered but fought on.

Did he have a mate? she wondered, thinking of her own adorably rumpled husband waiting for her at home. A woman with enough courage and strength to keep from being overpowered by his? A romantic at heart, she fervently hoped so.