The Drifter. Kate Hoffmann
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About the Author
KATE HOFFMANN has been writing for Mills & Boon since 1993. Since then she’s published sixty books, primarily in the Temptation and Blaze® lines. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys music, theatre, and musical theatre. She is active working with high-school students in the performing arts. She lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her two cats, Chloe and Tally.
Dear Reader,
When I began this trilogy, I was looking forward to writing three books set in three different seasons—winter, spring and summer. But with my writing schedule, I never seem to be writing the books in the season in which they’re set.
The first book of this trilogy, set in a snowbound cabin, was written during the heat of August. This book, set in the Colorado springtime, was written as the leaves were turning and the first frost set in. And the next book, set in Chicago in the summer, will no doubt be written while the snow is flying. I guess you could say I’m seasonally challenged.
Whatever the season, I find the escape of writing just as much fun as a vacation. So enjoy this trip to Boulder, Colorado. I’ve only been there once, but it was a great place to visit.
Happy reading,
Kate Hoffmann
The Drifter
Kate Hoffmann
For my ever-patient editor, Brenda Chin.
Table of Contents
Prologue
“IT’S GOT TO BE SIMPLE and concise,” Angela Weatherby said as she slowly twirled around in her desk chair. “The name has to encompass all the traits that make up this guy. He’s a wanderer, he can’t settle down. He’s always searching for the next big thrill, whether it’s climbing a mountain or seducing a beautiful woman. He freely admits that he doesn’t want to commit, yet women fall for him again and again and again.”
Now that her SmoothOperators Web site was such a success, Angela had found it much easier to work on the book she was writing. She’d chosen a title—Spotting the Smooth Operator: A Woman’s Guide to Avoiding Dating Disasters. She’d developed ten solid archetypes of the smooth operator. But, according to her editor, she needed to come up with clever names for each. The chapter on the Charmer had already been written and she’d moved on to the next in line, then become stuck on the header.
“So he’s a wanderer,” said Celia Peralto, Angie’s business partner and webmaster. “A … nomad?”
“That makes him sound like he’s tending sheep instead of seducing women. How about the Traveler?”
Celia shook her head. “Sounds like some stuffy businessman.”
A long silence grew between them. Ceci had been an invaluable help on the book and was always happy to brainstorm ideas. But this one had them both stumped. “It’s on the tip of my tongue,” Angela said. “He’s a … a …” She groaned and closed her eyes, clearing her mind. “He’s a—drifter!”
She opened her eyes to find Ceci grinning at her. “That’s it,” Ceci said. “He’s a drifter. I like it. He can’t settle down, he moves from one woman to the next, he’s footloose and irresponsible and every woman thinks she’ll be the one to change him.”
“But no one can,” Angela said.
“Well, there’s always an exception to the rule,” Ceci said. “If there wasn’t, there would be a bunch of eighty-year old guys hopping from bed to bed, seducing any woman they could find.” She paused. “There was a post on the Web site this morning. Alex Stamos has officially stepped out of the dating pool. His sister added a note to his profile saying that he’s getting married.”
“Well, it’s good I never got to interview him, then,” Angela said.
When she’d decided to do anonymous and anecdotal interviews with each of her “types,” Alex had been first on her list. He’d been the perfect example of a “Charmer.” Unfortunately, she’d never been able to talk to him and had to settle for a car salesman from Arlington Heights and a bartender from DePaul.
“You don’t believe men can change, do you?” Ceci asked.
“I used to think they could,” Angela admitted. “But how many profiles do we have on the site? Tens of thousands and yet, only a few men make the transformation from smooth operator to devoted husband. I’ve had just enough bad experiences to make me cynical.”
“Don’t you hope that someday you’ll find a great guy, someone who won’t treat you like a commodity?”
Angela sighed. In her heart of hearts, she still wanted to believe there was someone out there for her. But she was slowly creeping toward thirty and she knew the odds. The older she got, the smaller the bachelor pool became, until all that was left in the water were the bottom feeders and leeches and poisonous snakes. She was a practical girl who had let go of her fairy-tale dreams a long time ago.
“Of course I do,” Angela murmured. “But I’m not going to hold my breath.”
“A more optimistic attitude might help,” Celia said. She crawled out of her chair and pulled Angela to her feet. “Go ahead. Close your eyes, click your heels together and say it three times. I will fall in love with a great man, I will fall in love with a great man, I will fall in love with a great man.”
Angela laughed and pulled her hands out of Ceci’s grip. “You’re a hopeless romantic.