The Christmas Rose. Dilly Court
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“I’m sorry, Mac. This isn’t going to happen.”
It took a long second for her words to sink in. Then he said, “All right. Can you tell me why?”
“I just—a lot of reasons.”
He was entitled to an explanation, but she couldn’t tell him Charles would kill her if she ever let another man touch her. I’ll know if you betray me, Erin. I have many friends…and they have many friends. You belong to me. You will always belong to me.
She met the confusion in Mac’s eyes again. How could she tell him anything about her life with Charles and keep his respect? More to the point, how could she tell him anything, period? Her attraction to him went beyond anything she’d ever felt for a man, but he was still very much a stranger to her. She’d only known him for two weeks, and it took longer than that to establish trust. Her daughter had to be her first priority. One innocent word to the wrong person could turn their lives into a living hell.
Dear Reader,
What better way to start off a new year than with six terrific new Silhouette Intimate Moments novels? We’ve got miniseries galore, starting with Karen Templeton’s Staking His Claim, part of THE MEN OF MAYES COUNTY. These three brothers are destined to find love, and in this story, hero Cal Logan is also destined to be a father—but first he has to convince heroine Dawn Gardner that in his arms is where she wants to stay.
For a taste of royal romance, check out Valerie Parv’s Operation: Monarch, part of THE CARRAMER TRUST, crossing over from Silhouette Romance. Policemen more your style? Then check out Maggie Price’s Hidden Agenda, the latest in her LINE OF DUTY miniseries, set in the Oklahoma City Police Department. Prefer military stories? Don’t even try to resist Irresistible Forces, Candace Irvin’s newest SISTERS IN ARMS novel. We’ve got a couple of great stand-alone books for you, too. Lauren Nichols returns with a single mom and her protective hero, in Run to Me. Finally, Australian sensation Melissa James asks Can You Forget? Trust me, this undercover marriage of convenience will stick in your memory long after you’ve turned the final page.
Enjoy them all—and come back next month for more of the best and most exciting romance reading around, only in Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Yours,
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Editor
Run to Me
Lauren Nichols
LAUREN NICHOLS
started writing by accident, so it seems fitting that the word accidental appears in her first three titles for Silhouette. Once eager to illustrate children’s books, she tried to get her foot in that door, only to learn that most publishing houses used their own artists. Then one publisher offered to look at her sketches if she also wrote the tale. During the penning of that story, Lauren fell head over heels in love with writing fiction.
In addition to her novels, Lauren’s romance and mystery short stories have appeared in several leading magazines. She counts her family and friends as her greatest treasures, and strongly believes in the Beatles’ philosophy, “All You Need Is Love.” When this Pennsylvania author isn’t writing or trying unsuccessfully to give up French vanilla cappuccino, she’s traveling or hanging out with her very best friend/husband, Mike.
Lauren loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her at http: www.laurennichols.com.
I was blessed with four great brothers but was never lucky enough to have a sister, so this book is dedicated to my sisters of the heart— the terrific women who make my days more fun with their friendships, e-mails, phone calls, promises of prayers and, frequently, the threat of a three-mile walk to get me in shape (which is a lost cause).
For the one and only Anna Banana. For Karen Rose, Doreen, Shirley, Lisa and Gladys.
For my Looper pals: Ann, Jacki, Jan, Liana, Lorraine, Polly and Susan.
I love you guys.
And always for Mike, for taking such good care of my wimpy heart.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Chapter 1
The lies were getting easier to tell.
Hiding a stab of guilt, Erin Fallon carried her nearly three-year-old daughter out of Amos Perkins’s sturdy clapboard home to his porch, then held the wooden screen door for Amos. Once, a lie would have died on her tongue; her father’s cheating had hurt her mother so badly, Erin grew up with a deep respect for the truth. But for the past year, honesty had had to take a back seat to survival.
Christie’s warm breath and sweet baby whisper bathed Erin’s ear. “I’n firsty, Mommy.”
“We’ll get some juice in a minute, sweetheart,” she returned quietly, then shifted her attention back to her new employer.
Amos winced with exertion as he stepped over the threshold and onto the porch, then drew a few labored breaths. He continued the conversation they’d begun inside the house. “Then yer okay with the pay?”
“It’s more than generous, Mr. Perkins. Thank you.” The money was a godsend. Buying the first van had seriously depleted her funds, then, when in fear, she’d traded the white Ford Windstar in on an older vehicle, there’d been no refund. Not that she cared. Now she had an anonymous-looking gray van that few people would notice.
“’Course, your room and meals are included,” Amos continued, his wispy gray hair lifting in the early-June breeze. His cane thumped hollowly on the plank floor as he moved past two Adirondack chairs and an old green-and-yellow glider to brace himself against a porch post. “How soon can you ladies start?”
Alarmed that he would lose his footing so close to the steps, Erin put Christie down and wandered to Amos’s side. “As soon as you like. Everything we need is in the van.”
His startled look drew a smile from Erin. “Christie and I travel light, Mr. Perkins.”
“Call me Amos. And I s’pose now’s as good a time as any to start.” He nodded down the sloping hill to his right, indicating an old but well-kept barn, a split-rail corral and two small outbuildings. Beyond them a pasture stretched to meet a wall of Ponderosa pines, and in the distance the majestic San Francisco peaks rose triumphantly against the summer-blue sky.
“Like I said,” he repeated, “it ain’t much of a ranch. We run a few steers and horses for our own use. Couple-a cats to keep the mice busy.”
Christie clung to her leg, and Erin reached down to stroke her fine black hair. “It’s beautiful here.”
“We like it.” Amos’s brow furrowed. “You should know, not much happens here in High Hawk. We’re a whole twenty miles from Flagstaff—don’t have none of them nightclubs like you folks have back East. That gonna be a problem for you?”
Erin nearly