Table Of Content“Do you have an extra room, by any chance?” Damien asked.
Molly laid down a spoon and looked at him with such hope. “You’ll stay
here? With me?” Her relief was nearly palpable.
“I have an idea,” he said, using his most businesslike tone. “How do you
think Jensen would react to your having a live-in lover?”
Her beautiful mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened with shock. Then
she laughed, that full-bodied, head-thrown-back laughter he remembered from
when he’d first met her. His own smile widened in response to it. Even her child
giggled and patted its sticky hands together.
How would it be if Molly touched him with a bit of that caring she showed
so easily to her family? She must have some to spare. It needn’t be anything
permanent. Love certainly wasn’t necessary, or even something he wanted from
her. That would be a little too deep for comfort. He wished only for a taste of
how it would feel to know someone cared.
Dear Reader,
It’s the beginning of a new year, and Intimate Moments is ready to kick
things off with six more fabulously exciting novels. Readers have been
clamoring for Linda Turner to create each new installment of her wonderful
miniseries THOSE MARRYING MCBRIDES! In Never Been Kissed she honors
those wishes with the deeply satisfying tale of virginal nurse Janey McBride and
Dr. Reilly Jones, who’s just the man to teach her how wonderful love can be
when you share it with the right man.
A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY continues to keep readers on the
edge of their seats with The Spy Who Loved Him, bestselling author Merline
Lovelace’s foray into the dangerous jungles of Central America, where the
loving is as steamy as the air. And you won’t want to miss My Secret Valentine,
the enthralling conclusion to our in-line 36 HOURS spin-off. As always,
Marilyn Pappano delivers a page-turner you won’t be able to resist. Ruth Langan
begins a new trilogy, THE SULLIVAN SISTERS, with Awakening Alex, sure to
be another bestseller. Lyn Stone’s second book for the line, Live-In Lover, is
sure to make you her fan. Finally, welcome brand-new New Zealand sensation
Frances Housden. In The Man for Maggie she makes a memorable debut, one
that will have you crossing your fingers that her next book will be out soon.
Enjoy! And come back next month, when the excitement continues here in
Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Yours,
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
Live-In Lover
LYN STONE
Books by Lyn Stone
Silhouette Intimate Moments
Beauty and the Badge #952
Live-In Lover #1055
Harlequin Historicals
The Wicked Truth #358
The Arrangement #389
The Wilder Wedding #413
The Knight’s Bride #445
Bride of Trouville #467
One Christmas Night #487
“Ian’s Gift”
My Lady’s Choice #511
LYN STONE
loves creating pictures with words. Paints, too. Her love affair with writing
and art began in the third grade, when she won a school-wide prize for her
colorful poster for book week. She spent the prize money on books, one of
which was Little Women.
She rewrote the ending so that Jo marries her childhood sweetheart. That’s
because Lyn had a childhood sweetheart herself and wanted to marry him when
she grew up. She did. And now she is living her “happily-ever-after” in north
Alabama with the same guy. She and Allen have traveled the world, had two
children, four grandchildren and experienced some wild adventures along the
way.
Whether writing romantic historicals or contemporary fiction, Lyn insists
on including elements of humor, mystery and danger. Perhaps because that other
book she purchased all those years ago was a Nancy Drew story.
In appreciation for pep talks and the lively exchange
of ideas, this book is dedicated to fellow adventure
lovers Debra Webb, Dianne Hamilton,
Martha Kreiger, Mary Bauer and Rhonda Nelson.
Contents
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
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Damien Perry popped the cap off his bottle of Guinness, shook his head
and laughed, a mirthless sound, as most of his laughs were these days. Sad
commentary when a man had to check where a message came from to determine
who he was supposed to be.
His thumb traced the postmark on the unopened envelope that lay on the
bunk beside him. Nashville, Tennessee. Ah, yes, his role as an assassin.
He’d spent almost a decade now assuming other accents and identities, and
the job was getting old. The Bureau loaned him out to other agencies for joint
operations as if he were a piece of office equipment.
He had considered resigning. Government pay was atrocious, even with the
hefty allowance for designer clothes on assignments such as his last one. The
investments he’d made with his inheritance would insure he never had to work
again.
But what would he do if he quit? Hang out a shingle and use his law
degree?
Damien scoffed and took a good, long swig off his stout. He kicked off his
deck shoes and got comfortable, determined to enjoy this leisure even if it killed
him. If he didn’t gear down between jobs, he’d burn out for certain.
The plain white envelope lay there as if daring him to rip it open, so he did.
No letter inside, just a small rectangle of beige linen card stock.
He smiled for real when he read the name on it. Marian Olivia Jensen. He
only knew one Jensen from Nashville. It had to be her. What on earth could
Molly want from him? He flipped the card over and read the handwritten
message on the back. Please call. I need your help. This is urgent. M.J.
He lay back on the narrow bunk in the cabin of the Anna Louise and held
the card aloft to examine it further. The line beneath her name bore the words
“Freelance Graphics.” Below that a post office box, phone and fax numbers.
How had she gotten the address of the post office box where he
occasionally docked? Few knew of it.
The Bureau had used the Florida address a couple of times to contact him
since he had been working the boat thefts up and down the lower east coast.
Now that the DEA had rounded up the smugglers who had been
appropriating private craft for their runs, Damien was taking six weeks’ leave on
his rented sloop to wind down.
When he’d gone into the small post office branch to cancel the box this
morning, the mail clerk had given him the envelope.
morning, the mail clerk had given him the envelope.
Michael Duvek, the regional director in Memphis, must have given Molly
Jensen the address. Other than her brother, Duvek was the only person they
really knew in common.
But Damien hardly knew her at all. They had met only twice while he was
in the hospital in Memphis after that Nashville fiasco. The acquaintance was
memorable for him, despite its brevity. A bright ray of sun on one of his darkest
days there six months ago.
She had been visiting her brother, Ford Devereaux, the agent he had shared
the semiprivate room with after they’d both been wounded. Absently, he ran a
finger over the puckered red scar on his right side, just below his ribs.
Strange that she should remember him. Damien had just come from surgery
and recovery and was barely conscious when Devereaux introduced his sister.
What a smile to wake up to. Unforgettable.
The next time she had visited, they had gone down the hall together for
coffee—no fun task in his barely ambulatory condition—to give Devereaux and
his fiancée a little privacy.
So that was the extent of their acquaintance, his and Molly Jensen’s, a
drugged-out how-do-you-do, terrible coffee, and a quarter hour of conversation.
But Damien could never forget a woman like Devereaux’s sister, no matter
how short the association. Just thinking about her made him smile with
remembered pleasure.
She was tall, a few inches shy of six feet. Lithe and graceful, but too
energetic for a model. She’d moved more like an athlete. Perfect skin, auburn
hair that shone like polished copper and a laugh that made her green eyes sparkle
like gems. Such expressive eyes, he remembered.
Damien recalled how much he had wanted to touch her. Not sexually,
exactly, though the idea certainly had merit. But just to see whether her joie de
vivre was tangible, maybe even contagious. It had been.
As luck would have it, she had touched him first, just an arm beneath his to
lend support. He’d been infinitely glad to be alive in that moment.
He looked at the card one more time and got up, sliding his bare feet into
his shoes. What would she need him for so urgently? Though this certainly
stirred his curiosity, answering her summons might not be a wise move.
She hadn’t mentioned a husband, but she was most likely married. He knew
she had a very young child because she had whipped out pictures and bragged
that day.
A baby girl who was not especially photogenic. A smile tugged at his lips.
In the photos it had worn one of those ruffled garter-looking things around its
bald head and a fancy dress to match. He clearly remembered the poor thing
