Parker And The Gypsy. Susan Carroll
“It’s Late. I Should Be Going.” Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Copyright
“It’s Late. I Should Be Going.”
“No!” Sara’s cry seemed almost involuntary. “I—I mean, you don’t have to. You could...stay.”
There was no mistaking her meaning. Her face was suffused with the delicate flush of passion, the glow of a woman waiting, willing to be loved. He’d never realized that desire could be such a pure and simple thing, almost holy when shining from a pair of deep blue eyes.
She was offering him everything he hungered for, and he didn’t know why he didn’t just reach out and take advantage of it. She was his gypsy lady. All the warmth that had always been missing from his black-and-white world.
He hesitated one moment more before taking the biggest risk of his life.
Mike Parker reached out of the shadows and took Sara’s hand.
Dear Reader,
A sexy fire fighter, a crazy cat and a dynamite heroine—that’s what you’ll find in Lucy and the Loner, Elizabeth Bevarly’s wonderful MAN OF THE MONTH. It’s the next in her installment of THE FAMILY McCORMICK series, and it’s also a MAN OF THE MONTH book you’ll never forget—warm, humorous and very sexy!
A story from Lass Small is always a delight, and Chancy’s Cowboy is Lass at her most marvelous. Don’t miss out as Chancy decides to take some lessons in love from a handsome hunk of a cowboy!
Eileen Wilks’s latest, The Wrong Wife, is chock-full with the sizzling tension and compelling reading that you’ve come to expect from this rising Desire star. And so many of you know and love Barbara McCauley that she needs no introduction, but this month’s The Nanny and the Reluctant Rancher is sure to both please her current fans...and win her new readers!
Suzannah Davis is another new author that we’re excited about, and Dr. Holt and the Texan may just be her best book to date! And the month is completed with a delightful romp from Susan Carroll, Parker and the Gypsy.
There’s something for everyone. So come and relish the romantic variety you’ve come to expect from Silhouette Desire!
Lucia Macro
And the Editors at Silhouette Desire
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
Susan Carroll
Parker And The Gypsy
SUSAN CARROLL
began her career by writing Regency romances. It was a long way from the starch of the British aristocracy to the sizzle of a contemporary American love story. But, in making the leap, Susan found one thing remained the same: that spark of humor that gives zest to any romance, no matter what the time period.
Susan draws on the same humor in her own life. Currently residing in Illinois, she keeps busy between books, coping with two lively children, two rambunctious cats and one very noisy hamster.
To my friend Paula Jolly, for reading the runes and helping to keep my aura fluffed.
One
Mikey ran through the maze of dark alleys, heart thumping beneath his ragged T-shirt, his grubby sneakers pounding the cold, hard concrete. Behind the kid, the shadow of a man loomed, tall and wavering in the streetlights, like a dangling spider.
Mikey glanced wildly about him for an escape route, but there was none. Brick walls enclosed him on all four sides. A ragged sob tore from his chest as he whirled about. The shadow man crept closer, ever closer. The boy flattened himself against the wall, tears streaking down his dirty cheeks as his stalker stepped into the light.
Mikey could almost see his face now....
“No! Go away,” the boy screamed as the shadow-man grabbed at him, his fingers sinking into Mikey’s shoulder like bony talons. With his other hand, the dark demon raised his knife—
“No!”
The word tore from Mike Parker’s throat as he wrenched awake, his head snapping back against the battered upholstery of his office chair. The leather creaked as he sat bolt upright and clenched the sides of his old oak desk, his brown eyes flying wide open. It took a few moments for him to remember where he was. The four plaster walls, the steel file cabinets and other trappings of his one man detective agency slowly penetrated his sleep-fogged brain.
No dark alleys. No shadow man. No knife. He had just dozed off at his desk, had a bad dream. That was all. But for a brief second, Mike felt all of twelve years old again. Small, helpless and scared. His hand crept reflexively to his shoulder, seeking traces of the wound that had long ago healed. Or should have. Damp patches stained the black T-shirt that hugged the hard contours of his chest, but they were from perspiration, not blood.
Swearing under his breath, Mike shook his head in disgust, raking back uneven lengths of tawny-colored hair from his eyes.
At the age of thirty four, he was too old for this, to be still having nightmares about the bogeyman. Or in this case, a day-mare. Anytime he was overtired or a little run-down, he could almost count on that stupid dream to come creeping up on him again. But after all these years, why, damn it?
“The answer is obvious, Michael,” the grad student from Rutgers he’d once dated had told him. “The dream is a manifest sign about some unresolved issue from your childhood.”
“You don’t say,” Mike had snapped, wondering how they’d gotten around