In The Arms Of A Stranger. Kristen Robinette
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“Just say my name,” she interrupted. “I’ll know your voice.”
Luke nodded and disappeared through the doorway, leaving Dana alone. What she’d said was true. She could pick that deep, captivating voice out of a crowded room. Maybe it was the tense circumstances, but that voice had the power to soothe her and, if she was honest with herself, to make her want to crawl into the shelter of his arms.
Power. The word stuck in her brain as she pointed Luke’s gun toward the empty door frame as he’d directed. Hadn’t she learned a thing or two about giving up her power? But this was hardly the same as her marriage had been. Luke had just given her the power of his weapon and, with barely a word of instruction, his trust.
Time passed. Five minutes? Ten?
“Dana…”
“Yes,” she responded, lowering the gun and, with it, her defenses.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to another month of the most exciting romantic reading around, courtesy of Silhouette Intimate Moments. Starting things off with a bang, we have To Love a Thief by ultrapopular Merline Lovelace. This newest CODE NAME: DANGER title takes you back into the supersecret world of the Omega Agency for a dangerous liaison you won’t soon forget.
For military romance, Catherine Mann’s WINGMEN WARRIORS are the ones to turn to. These uniformed heroes and heroines are irresistible, and once you join Darcy Renshaw and Max Keagan for a few Private Maneuvers, you won’t even be trying to resist, anyway. Wendy Rosnau continues her unflashed miniseries THE BROTHERHOOD in Last Man Standing, while Sharon Mignerey’s couple find themselves In Too Deep. Finally, welcome two authors who are new to the line but not to readers. Kristen Robinette makes an unforgettable entrance with In the Arms of a Stranger, and Ana Leigh offers a matchup between The Law and Lady Justice.
I hope you enjoy all six of these terrific novels, and that you’ll come back next month for more of the most electrifying romantic reading around.
Enjoy!
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Editor
In the Arms of a Stranger
Kristen Robinette
KRISTEN ROBINETTE
could never decide what she wanted to be when she grew up. She wanted to be an archaeologist, a firefighter, a psychiatrist, an equestrian, an artist, a police officer…all at the same time. After deciding that her affliction was actually the urge to write about such things, she set out to become an author. Four romance novels and multiple fiction careers later, she couldn’t be happier! Kristen lives in Alabama with her husband and three daughters. When not at the keyboard, she can be found spending time with her family, pampering her horse (who believes he’s a dog), boating, reading and generally avoiding domestic chores.
To Adrienne, who made us complete.
And to my sister, Kathy, who always slowed down so that I could catch up, held my hand in front of the “big kids” and still comes out to play. Thank you.
Contents
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
Chapter 19
Prologue
Chief Luke Sutherlin sat his coffee mug on top of a battered file cabinet and watched chaos consume his police station.
“Chief, another storm report is coming in.” Lieutenant Ben Allen hovered over the computer terminal as it began printing.
Luke nodded, dreading the fact that he’d be trapped in the station today. Working closely with his officers wasn’t a favorite part of his job. His men accepted that a Sutherlin was, yet again, in charge. Respected his authority, maybe. But they didn’t like him. Not even on a good day.
And today was definitely not a good day.
He walked slowly to where Ben stood and scanned the information as it printed. When the terminal finally stilled, he ripped the paper away and read it in detail.
“Looks like the storm will go north of Sweetwater, after all,” Lieutenant Allen offered in a too-cheerful voice.
A winter storm had built west of the Mississippi River and was now burying North Alabama and Tennessee under a blanket of ice and snow. It was a freak storm, the television meteorologists explained with panicked expressions, something they’d never seen before, much less in early March. Authorities originally predicted it would sweep across the North Georgia Mountains with the same fury, but the storm had weakened and was headed north of them.
Luke breathed a sigh of relief. They were accustomed to occasional snow flurries but were ill equipped to handle a storm of this magnitude. This was the South. He could count ten tornadoes for every true snowstorm he’d seen. He tossed the report on Ben’s desk.
“What’s that?” He pointed to a crumpled slip of yellow paper with his name scrawled at the top.
“Oh…” Ben smoothed the paper before offering it to him. “It’s a message, sir. I’m sorry. I took it late last night.”
He pulled it from Ben’s hand. Shelly Henson. The name stopped him cold. His father’s mistress. Former mistress, he amended. He hadn’t seen or heard from Shelly in over a year. Why had she called the station?
Ben had scribbled the message with a fat felt-tipped marker: “I’ll be returning what belongs to you.” Shelly had taken a couple of hundred dollars from his wallet a year ago, the night he’d taken her in. He winced at the memory.
After having received a frantic call from the housekeeper, Luke had arrived at his father’s house to find Shelly lying on the polished marble floor, her face bruised and the smell of fear in the air. His stepmother had merely watched the distasteful scene play out with cool detachment. But then, Miss Camille, as she liked to be called despite her age and marital status, had never made any secret of his father’s affairs. On the contrary, she wore them like a badge of honor. Proof of what she was forced to endure.
His father had made himself conveniently absent by then, leaving Luke to see to the nasty details.
Luke had brought Shelly back to his place, then valiantly tried to wipe the scene out of his head with a bottle of booze. It hadn’t worked. Not that night or any night since.
Why Shelly Henson would feel the need to make amends at all was beyond him. The theft was nothing compared to his own behavior that night. He rotated his stiff right shoulder. His shoulder had never failed to predict a storm, not in twenty-two years. Not since his sixteenth birthday, when his father had broken it.
Luke