The Case Of The Vainshed Groom
HER HUSBAND HAD MYSTERIOUSLY VANISHED…The morning after her wedding, Dawn Lovell awakened–only to find that the naked man next to her in bed wasn't her husband. Even worse, the sexy best man, Ross Duke, swore he didn't know where her husband was, or who had stolen her belongings or looted her bank accounts….Dawn hardly believed that her new husband had betrayed her, especially when there was evidence of dangerous foul play. But only Ross could help her, and he was suddenly as intent on proving her husband guilty as she was of proving him innocent. Apparently, Ross Duke had decided Dawn deserved another kind of marriage–to him.Honeymoon Hideaway
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Table of Contents
How had she ended up naked in bed with her husband’s best man?
Dawn felt mortified. Yesterday she’d married Quentin Bayliss. She’d gone to bed with Quentin, explored Quentin’s body and nearly made love to him.
But now sexy Ross Duke was in her bed. He was watching her carefully as if she were a strange, potentially dangerous species of animal. This had to be a nightmare—a reasonable enough explanation considering all the champagne and rich food at her wedding reception. Or was Dawn going insane? Maybe she’d sleepwalked.
And yet the fact remained: If Ross was in her bed, then her husband had vanished.
Dawn’s heart suddenly pounded against her ribs, and she stared at Ross. “What are you doing in my bed?” she demanded in a lethal tone. “And what have you done with my husband?”
Dear Reader,
Imagine you’ve traveled far away, to a place of heady danger and luxurious romance nestled high in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. The bellhop has left your bags and you’re about to unpack. You’ve finally reached the exciting Elk River Resort, the setting for Sheryl Lynn’s first book in her new duet, HONEYMOON HIDEAWAY, brought to you this month and next.
Sheryl Lynn lives in a pine forest atop a hill in Colorado. When not writing, she amuses herself by embarrassing her two teenagers, walking her dogs in a nearby park and feeding peanuts to the dozens of Steller’s jays, scrub jays, blue jays and squirrels who live in her backyard. Her best ideas come from the newspapers, although she admits that a lot of what she reads is way too weird for fictionl
Harlequin Intrigue invites you to escape with Sheryl Lynn to the HONEYMOON HIDEAWAYI Next month don’t miss The Case of the Bad Luck Fiancél
Regards,
Debra Matteucci
Senior Editor & Editorial Coordinator
Harlequin Books
300 East 42nd Street
New York, New York 10017
For the gang, Tom and Tristan and Abby
Dawn Lovell-Bayliss—She’d been taught to use her head, not her heart, so she married the perfect man. Was he too perfect?
Ross Duke—He was thoroughly inappropriate—a black sheep, playboy, joker and charmer, but he’d do anything for Dawn.
Quentin Bayliss—Had Dawn’s husband been kidnapped, or was he a smooth talker who had suddenly left her?
Connie Haxman—The high-society mover and shaker would do anything to protect her darling Dawn.
Desdemona Hunter—The “Party Patter” columnist was always on the lookout for a juicy scandal.
Colonel Horace Duke—A stern patriarch and owner of Elk River resort, he knew his son Ross was up to no good.
Janine Duke—She won’t let anyone, not even her brother, threaten the family business.
Brad picked up Galena’s purse. He was dying for a smoke, but his fiancée was such a puritan she’d faint if he lit up in her presence, or even if she smelled it on him. If he recalled correctly, Galena smoked like a chimney.
“Hey!” Galena shouted, grabbing her purse out of his hands.
But not before Brad saw the unmistakable gleam of a firearm. He jumped and drew up his hands to protect his chest He stared wide-eyed at her. “Is that a gun? Are you nuts?”
She pulled a blue steel.32 automatic from her purse. She glared steadily at him. “I must be, for trusting you.”
He flopped onto a cheap chair, hating this sleazy motel room, and hating Galena. But if she got a whiff that he had a penny of his own, she’d go straight to Dawn and ruin everything. He watched her pace like a tigress, caressing the gun barrel as if it were a pet.
“I’m pretty good with this thing. I’ve changed a lot in five years, Brad—”
“Quentin,” he corrected. “My name is Quentin Bayliss. I told you, the Witness Protection Program insists that I stay in character all the time.” She stopped in the middle of the room and hung her head. Her shoulders shook. It took him a few seconds to realize she was laughing. He softened his tone. “I know what I did was wrong, baby. I wouldn’t have done it if I had a choice, but those mobsters were out to kill me. I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anybody, or ever will. I still love you. If I could turn back the clock, I would.”
Her head snapped up. “Liar!”
“I don’t blame you for not believing me. If you’d run out on me, I’d have been—”
“Run out on you? You ruined me, Brad! I lost the gallery, I lost my house. I lost everything because of you.” She extended her right hand, and sighted down the barrel of the pistol, aiming it straight at his head. “Five years, baby. Five long years and the only thing I’ve done is hunt for you. If you don’t give me back my money, I will kill you.”
He huffed a heavy sigh. When he’d married her, she’d been a flaky artist, an appealing eccentric who always wore black and drank only Dom Perignon. Now she was just plain flaky, and obsessed—and dangerous. The only way to shake her off his tail would be to give up Dawn and her millions, but that he refused to do. “Look, Dawn promised to give me the money.”.
