But a one-sided love was never, could never, be enough. Sex was one thing, love another. And Sandra knew that to hang on to one, while denying herself the other, would be self-destructive.
Her decision reached, she went in search of Cameron. And her decision was tested when she found hi—m all six feet four inches of gorgeous man fresh from the shower, his hair damp, his chest bare, his worn, faded jeans unsnapped.
Dear Reader,
Go no further! I want you to read all about what’s in store for you this month at Silhouette Desire. First, there’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the triumphant return of Joan Hohl’s BIG BAD WOLFE series! MAN OF THE MONTH Cameron Wolfe “stars” in the absolutely wonderful Wolfe Wedding. This book, Joan’s twenty-fifth Silhouette title, is a keeper. So if you plan on giving it to someone to read I suggest you get one for yourself and one for a friend—it’s that good!
In addition, it’s always exciting for me to present a unique new miniseries, and SONS AND LOVERS is just such a series. Lucas, Ridge and Reese are all brothers with a secret past. and a romantic future. The series begins with Lucas: The Loner by Cindy Gerard, and continues in February with Reese: The Untamed by Susan Connell and in March with Ridge: The Avenger by Leanne Banks. Don’t miss them!
If you like humor, don’t miss Peachy’s Proposal, the next book in Carole Buck’s charming, fun-filled WEDDING BELLES series, or My House or Yours? the latest from Lass Small.
If ranches are a place you’d like to visit, you must check out Barbara McMahon’s Cowboy’s Bride. And this month is completed with a dramatic, sensuous love story from Metsy Hingle. The story is called Surrender, and I think you’ll surrender to the talents of this wonderful new writer.
Sincerely,
Lucia Macro
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Why hadn’t they ever gone to bed together?
Cameron Wolfe peered over the top of his goldframed reading glasses at the woman elegantly poised in his office doorway.
Sandra Bradley was well worth peering at.
At age thirty-one—or was it thirty-two now?-Sandra was in her glorious prime. Tall, slender, gorgeous, and smart as they came, she was one fantastic piece of work, a delight to the eyes and senses, and a worthy opponent into the bargain.
What more could any red-blooded American male ask for in a woman?
Compliance?
Cameron repressed a smile at the immediate response his brain threw out to his silent query. He could readily imagine Sandra in any role she chose to perform—any role, that is, except one of acquiescence.
An unabashed feminist and a damn sharp lawyer, Sandra was light-years beyond the outmoded traditional concept of femininity—which an swered his original question about why they had never gone to bed together. He and Sandra had a professional relationship, and Cameron never mixed business with pleasure. The combination could be explosive, thus devastating. Besides, his view of women was as unabashedly traditional as Sandra’s was nontraditional.
Pity.
“Well, hello,” he drawled. “To what do I owe the singular honor of your visit?”
“Hello yourself.” Sandra’s voice always thrilled. Low and throaty, she could drawl along with the best. “It’s a courtesy call.” She strolled with languid grace into the room.
Attired in a severely tailored jonquil yellow suit, combined with a silk shirt, scarf, shoes and handbag in leaf green, she appeared to bring the mild freshness of Denver’s early-spring weather into the room with her.
Up close, she was even easier on the eyes.
Her features were clearly classic—sculptured bone structure, beneath satiny skin with a magnolia-creamy complexion. Her well-defined, fulllipped mouth alone could have, and probably had, turned hordes of men’s minds to mush, and another part of their anatomy to steel.
Her long-legged, curvaceous figure wasn’t bad, either. In truth, it was muscle-clenching.
Feeling the predictable thrill, and the tightening effect, in every atom of his being, Cameron covered his reaction with the equally languid-appearing motions of first rising, then removing his glasses.
“How intriguing.” He allowed a hint of a smile to shadow his lips. Laying the specs on top of the papers he had been reading, he flicked a hand to indicate the two functional chairs placed in front of his desk. “Have a seat,” he said, arching one goldkissed, tawny eyebrow. “And explain.”