âNot so tentative. Try it again.â
Left jab, right cross. Helena tore into him. The next shot went between Randyâs gloves and landed square on that taut, sweaty six-pack he was so damn proud of.
âHey, whoa!â
She couldnât stop. He caught her next punch on his forearms. Why didnât he fight back? Hit her? She could take it. She had to take it or sheâd never win.
She felt herself falling as he cut her legs out from under her with his heel.
They hit the canvas locked together. She struggled against him, felt every inch of him above her, his weight bearing her down. âHit me! For Godâs sake, hit me,â she sobbed. âYou have to hit me.â
âI canât,â he whispered.
She felt his breath against her lips, his body hot and hard.
Suddenly she wrapped her legs around him, arching her back, no longer struggling, as his mouth came down on hersâ¦.
Dear Reader,
When my last book, His Only Defense (December 2008), came out, readers wanted to know more about âRandyâ Randy Railsback, the womanizing detective from the Cold Case Squad. Heâs a good detective, but a responsible guyânot so much. Randy never dates women with ex-husbands, kids, abusive boyfriends or familyâ¦or psychological problems. No baggage. And the minute the word marriage comes up, heâs outta there.
The last woman he needs in his life is English professor Helena Norcross. She has enough baggage to fill a moving van. Sheâs divorced from a compulsive gambler, has two frighteningly intelligent children, suffers from debilitating anxiety attacks and dangerous rages. Sheâs fighting to get her life back on track by enrolling in Randyâs self-defense class for women. Two years earlier she was assaulted by a serial rapist who comes back to kill previous victims.
Randyâs breaking his own rules about avoiding responsibility. Heâs falling not only for Helena, but for her kids, too. Sheâs falling for him as well, but believes the only way to be free to love again is to kill the man who raped her, setting herself up as a target.
I love to hear from readers. Write to me at Harlequin Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ont., M3B 3K9, Canada, or check out my Web site, www.carolynmcsparren.com.
Carolyn McSparren
RITA>® Award nominee and Maggie winner, Carolyn McSparren has lived in Germany, France, Italy and âtoo many cities in the U.S. to count.â Sheâs sailed boats, raised horses, rides dressage and drives her Shire cross mare to a carriage. She teaches writing seminars to romance and mystery writers, and writes mystery and womenâs fiction as well as Harlequin Superromance books. Carolyn lives in the country outside of Memphis, TN, in an old house with four indoor and six outdoor cats, three horses, seven raccoons, at least two foxes and one husband, not necessarily in order of importance.
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
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
âOKAY, STREAK, show me what you got.â Randy Railsback stood relaxed, with an easy grin on his face.
The woman heâd nicknamed Streak came at him across the workout room like a charging rhino. At the last second, he casually moved his hands sideways. Completely off balance, she stumbled past him. He caught her ankle with his instep.
She sprawled on the big mat that covered two-thirds of the floor, and rolled over onto her back awkwardly. The other women gasped. âSee, ladies,â he said over his shoulder, âyou use their force against them.â He reached down to offer her a hand, and found himself facedown across her body, staring into a pair of brown eyes so enraged they seemed to be entirely black pupil. âWhoa!â he said as he rolled off. âWay to go, Streak. More than just a pretty face.â
He came to his feet in one fluid movement. She scrambled away on the seat of her sweatpants.
âHope I didnât hurt you,â he said, and rubbed his wrist. âYou definitely hurt me.â
The other women tittered. She hadnât hurt him, but she might have. Out-of-control newbies were always more dangerous than pros who understood how to engage and when to stop. âFriends?â he said, and stuck out his hand. She ignored it and struggled to her feet.
Had to be a reason for all the anger she was carrying. Jessica might have an idea. As manager of a working gym, Strength for Health, Jessica often knew more about her clients than they realized.
He hadnât planned to take Streak down, but sheâd come at him with such force, heâd had no choice. She toted some muscle on that skinny frame, she moved fast and she was only three or four inches shorter than his six feet two. If she learned to channel that anger, she might turn into a formidable opponent. If she didnât, she was going to get herself or someone else hurt.