Eddi was a job. An assignmentâ¦
Doug reminded himself of this fact as his eyes feasted on the way she moved. She was an assignment, yes, but she was also the most fascinating woman heâd ever met.
âSwear you wonât leave my side for an instant? Swear it or I wonât go,â Eddi said. âAs long as youâre with me, I can do this.â
Ignoring the warning in his brain, Doug reached for her hand. He held it tenderly and reveled in the rush of desire that burned through him. âIâll be right there with you every step of the way.â
Before he could fathom her intent, she leaned across and kissed his cheek. In that infinitesimal moment before she drew away, it took every ounce of discipline he possessed not to kiss her back. Not to draw her into his arms and kiss her the way she deserved to be kissedâ¦
This book is dedicated to a bright, beautiful young lady who never lets anything stop her from reaching her goals. No matter what life has thrown her way, she always triumphs while showing kindness and generosity to all those around her. My niece, Tanya Kimble Turley, this book is for you and your very own Knight in Shining Armor, your husband, Ray.
Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing at age nine. Eventually she met and married the man of her dreams and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners and working in a factory, a day-care center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding generalâs office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and they finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mystery and movies for inspiration. In 1998 her dream of writing for Harlequin came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at P.O. Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345, or visit her Web site at www.DebraWebb.com.
âAre you sure this young woman is indeed a DâMartine heir?â The man studied him closely, as if he were some kind of bug under a microscope. âI need absolute certainty here. If what you say is true, thenââ
âI know what I saw,â Joe said sharply. âAnd I know what it means. Iâve had twenty long years in the state penitentiary to think about it. Thatâs the only reason I went back there first thing when I got out.â He snorted, a disgustingly crude sound judging by the other manâs flinch. âYou think I bagged that kid twenty-five years ago because I was lucky?â
The other man just stared at him with obvious impatience and no small amount of distaste.
âI bagged him so easy because he was distracted by his girlfriend. He was in love,â Joe added with an emphatic wave of his arms. âSo damned in love he didnât even notice I was following him until Iâd nailed him.â
Another flinch from the guy whoâd been his partner twenty-five years ago. A partner who hadnât spent a solitary day behind bars and, from the looks of him, had suffered little considering their deal had gone so far south it had burned out somewhere in the vicinity of the equator. Instead of landing a ten-million-dollar ransom as they had planned, theyâd ended up with a body to dispose of and nothing to show for their trouble.
Heâthe silent partnerâhad insisted they were never to see each other, or even to speak to each other, again. After all, it was his hind end in the sling. The high-and-mighty partner was the mastermind behind the whole plan. Course it wasnât his fault the package had gotten damaged.
Old Joe had no one to blame for that except himself. Heâd screwed up. Had too much to drink and the young heir had died as a result, leaving Joe and his partner nothing to do but dump the body and make sure no evidence pointed toward either of them. Theyâd gotten away with it, by George. Not a soul on earth knew they had been the ones. If Joe hadnât gotten into that other trouble a little later, heâd have walked away clean with a number of crimes to his credit.
But, fact was, heâd spent twenty years in prison. The whole time heâd thought of little else except what heâd missed by screwing up that kidnapping. He could have been drinking tequila down in Cancún; instead, he was wasting away in a cell. Then it had dawned on him that maybe there was hope for a second chance. Heâd seen how crazy that rich boy had been over the waitress heâd sneaked away from his hotshot college every weekend to see. A girl like that had no hopes in hell of snagging herself a rich boy without a little leverage, planned or not. Joe had thought on it ever since. The very day the state released him from prison heâd gotten on a bus and headed straight for Meadowbrook, Maryland. Heâd hung out for a few days, laying low and acting nonchalant. And, lo and behold, heâd been right.