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“Am I the father of your baby?”
Grace knew the answer Ethan wanted. It was in his scowl, his clenched hands, the sinking feeling in her stomach. It was foolish to be disappointed. She was twenty-five, a woman on her own, about to become a single mother.
There was no room in her life for daydreams or fantasies, no chance that a charming rogue might turn into her very own Prince Charming, no chance at all that something special could develop out of a one-night stand. Yes, he’d come back upon learning that she was pregnant, but only because he wanted her to deny that he was the father.
“No,” she said softly, feeling the ache of the lie deep inside.
He looked startled, then relieved, then suspicious. “No, what?”
“You’re not the father.”
His gaze narrowed, sending heat flushing through her face.
“You’re lying. It’s my baby, isn’t it?”
Dear Reader,
Once again Intimate Moments is offering you six exciting and romantic reading choices, starting with Rogue’s Reform by perennial reader favorite Marilyn Pappano. This latest title in her popular HEARTBREAK CANYON miniseries features a hero who’d spent his life courting trouble—until he found himself courting the lovely woman carrying his child after one night of unforgettable passion.
Award-winner Kathleen Creighton goes back INTO THE HEARTLAND with The Cowboy’s Hidden Agenda, a compelling tale of secret identity and kidnapping—and an irresistible hero by the name of Johnny Bronco. Carla Cassidy’s In a Heartbeat will have you smiling through tears. In other words, it provides a perfect emotional experience. In Anything for Her Marriage, Karen Templeton proves why readers look forward to her books, telling a tale of a pregnant bride, a marriage of convenience and love that knows no limits. With Every Little Thing Linda Winstead Jones makes a return to the line, offering a romantic and suspenseful pairing of opposites. Finally, welcome Linda Castillo, who debuts with Remember the Night. You’ll certainly remember her and be looking forward to her return.
Enjoy—and come back next month for still more of the best and most exciting romantic reading around, available every month only in Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Yours,
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
Rogue’s Reform
Marilyn Pappano
MARILYN PAPPANO
After following her career navy husband around the country for sixteen years, Marilyn Pappano now makes her home high on a hill overlooking her hometown. With acreage, an orchard and the best view in the state, she’s not planning on pulling out the moving boxes ever again. When not writing, she makes apple butter from their own apples (when the thieves don’t get to them first), putts around the pond in the boat and tends a yard that she thinks would look better as a wildflower field, if the darn things would just grow there. You can write to Marilyn via snail mail at P.O. Box 643, Sapulpa, OK 74067-0643.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Prologue
It was a slow night at the Pirate’s Cay. Some joker in the corner had spent the last two hours playing every Jimmy Buffett tune on the jukebox, and two of the worst pool players on Key West were playing a game of eight ball that was never going to end the way they were going at it. The few regulars who had wandered in had wandered back out before long, leaving Ethan James with no one interesting to watch but the redhead alone at a table for two.
He had a weakness for redheads—had ever since he was sixteen and had hitched a ride across Texas with a redhead five years his senior. She’d shown him the sights at damn near every stop, and he’d developed a fine appreciation for flaming hair and fiery passion along the way.
The redhead at Pirate’s Cay was looking at him as if she could show him a few things, too. On a slow night, with nothing else, he was sure he would enjoy the ride.
As he finished wiping down the bar, the owner of the Cay came out of her office, took a look around, then joined him. “Life in wild, wonderful Key West. I don’t know how we survive it.” She tossed two envelopes onto the bar between them. “Here. Happy payday.”
“What’s the other?”
“Letter came for you today. I put it with your check so I wouldn’t forget, and then I forgot.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall, then swiveled her stool around. “Last call, folks. We close in ten minutes.”
No one showed any interest in more drinks. The redhead waited until he was watching her, then stood up, smiled and sauntered to the door. If he were a betting man, he’d give himself better than even odds that she’d be waiting in the parking lot when he walked outside.
Actually, he was a betting man, though it was one of many vices he’d been working at giving up. He’d achieved a higher degree of success with some than others. He’d stopped stealing and drinking, and was honest more often than not. Staying away from the gambling was harder, but he told himself when he slid that at least it was better than earning his money by conning innocent dupes out of theirs. He’d cut back on indiscriminate sex, but he couldn’t give it up completely. Hell, he had to have something to make life worth living. He damn sure didn’t have anything else…except a drop or two of self-respect. He doubted anyone else would be proud of the changes he’d made, but he was, and that was almost enough.
Setting the envelopes aside, he began closing up. By the time he finished, it was only two minutes past closing time and everyone but him and the boss was gone. She didn’t have far to go—through the storeroom door and up a flight of stairs to her apartment on the second floor. His own apartment was a few miles farther in a neighborhood significantly shabbier. He had five hundred square feet over a two-car garage that took too much of his paycheck, but he had nothing else to spend the money on. No family who wanted anything to do with him. No girlfriend. No future besides trying to stay out of trouble.
He waited for the boss to walk him to the door so she could lock up behind him. “See you tomorrow, darlin’,” she murmured as he left.
He responded with a nod and a wave, then glanced at the letter as he started for the parking lot. The postmark was illegible, the handwriting familiar, the return address even more so. His sister-in-law Olivia was the only member of the family who kept tabs on him—whether out of affection or self-protection, he didn’t know. He suspected the latter.
She’d gotten the Cay’s address from the birthday card he’d sent his brother Guthrie last December, and in return, she’d signed Guthrie’s name to a Christmas card, along with an invitation to spend the holidays with them. He’d ignored the invitation, knowing he was about as welcome in Heartbreak as a prairie fire in a drought, but he’d kept the card, and the two she’d sent him since.
As he turned the corner into the