In Blackhawk's Bed
Passing through a small Texas town, Seth Blackhawk found himself rescuing a set of young twins in trouble.His bravery resulted in an injury that had the lone wolf agreeing to Hannah Michaels's more than generous offer to recuperate inside her home. Seth had spent years going deep under cover, hiding his emotions, but sweet Hannah had his cool composure at the breaking point.Yes, he could show her the passion she so desired, but could he give Hannah the commitment her romance-wary soul demanded? Seth was used to living his life on the edge, but this time it was his heart on the line.
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“You Have The Right To Remain Silent,” Seth Said Sensually.
He moved his hands down Hannah’s arms and circled her wrists with his fingers as if he’d handcuffed her. “If you give up that right,” he continued, “then anything you say can and will be used against you.” He lifted her arms over her head and gently pinned her to the sofa beneath him.
His lips touched hers; he nipped at the corner of her mouth, then her bottom lip. His lips teased endlessly. Sensation after sensation shimmered through her, each one more exquisite than the one before.
Impossible, she thought dimly. This is simply not happening. She was certain that she would wake from this erotic dream any second. Only, she didn’t want to.
She wanted to know, wanted to feel what would happen next….
In Blackhawk’s Bed
Barbara McCauley
BARBARA MCCAULEY,
who has written more than twenty novels for Silhouette Books, lives in Southern California with her own handsome hero husband, Frank, who makes it easy to believe in and write about the magic of romance. Barbara’s stories have won and been nominated for numerous awards, including the prestigious RITA>® Award from the Romance Writers of America, Best Desire of the Year from Romantic Times and Best Short Contemporary from the National Reader’s Choice Awards.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
One
WELCOME TO RIDGEWATER, TEXAS. POPULATION 3,546. HOME OF THE WORLD’S LARGEST FRUITCAKE!
Seth Granger stared at the twenty-foot billboard depicting a smiling family of four standing beside a Godzilla-sized fruitcake with bright red cherries on top.
Fruitcake?
After eight years as an Albuquerque undercover cop, Seth thought he’d seen it all. He stared up at the towering depiction of fruits and nuts.
Apparently, he hadn’t.
Shaking his head, he downshifted, then slowed his Harley to the respectable speed of twenty-five. The last thing he needed was a ticket in this one-fruitcake town. After six hours on the West Texas highway in the blistering late-summer sun, what Seth needed was a full tank of gas, the biggest, juiciest cheeseburger he could find and a great big glass of ice water. By tonight, he’d be in Sweetwater where he could find a motel, then the closest bar. He’d been itching for an icy mug of Corona all day, and he could already taste the crisp, amber brew sliding down his dust-dry throat.
Throw in a pepperoni pizza, a pretty waitress, and that was about as perfect as life got.
A middle-aged woman walking a little black terrier on the side of the highway stared at him as he approached. The dog yapped and tugged on its leash, then circled the woman’s legs, nearly tripping her. Seth glanced at her as he passed. The woman glared back.
So much for small-town hospitality, he thought.
But even he had to admit he was looking a little scruffy. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and his thick black hair was almost to his shoulders. He’d had to let it grow for his last assignment—infiltrating a meth-lab operation—and he hadn’t cut it yet. Top that off with a motorcycle and a pair of aviator glasses, and he looked like the front cover of Bad Ass Bikers.
The late-afternoon heat rippled in waves off the asphalt as he turned into the gas station and drew stares from the people gassing their cars. He rumbled to a stop in front of a pump and pulled his helmet off. While he filled his tank, Seth scanned the station. Everyone quickly looked away.
He wondered what the good people of Ridgewater would do if he yelled “Boo!” and started waving his arms around. Jump in their cars, most likely, and peel out of the station as if Satan himself was on their tail. The thought made him smile.
But he resisted the temptation to follow through. He had more pressing, important things to give brain space to than what the people of Ridgewater thought of him.
Like the letter in his backpack from Beddingham, Barnes and Stephens’s law office.
There’d been a mound of mail when Seth had finally come home after the fiasco of his last assignment. He hadn’t intended to read any of the tower of bills or advertising brochures that night. All he’d wanted was an ice pack for his aching hand and a bottle of José Cuervo.
But the letter had been on top of the pile, all those lawyers’ names staring at him like a neon sign, and Seth had picked it up. No doubt someone intended to sue him. Maybe a disgruntled drug dealer who hadn’t appreciated being arrested, Seth figured, or maybe that bastard in apartment 12-C who liked to beat up his wife had resented Seth’s interference a few weeks earlier. Jeez, the list could have gone on forever, he supposed and he’d dropped the letter back on the pile.
But as he’d filled a bag with ice, then poured himself a shot of tequila, he’d come back to the letter. That’s when he’d noticed the return address was Wolf River County, Texas.
He froze.
Wolf River?
He’d tossed back the drink in his hand, then reached for the envelope and ripped it open.
And now, standing here in this Ridgewater, Texas, gas station, Seth remembered every word of that letter. But no words more clearly than the second paragraph, third line…
