One quick kiss, Johnny promised himself. Just one…
But as he lowered his head to hers, the sultry night turned suddenly stifling hot. Her lips were summer warm and satin smooth, and in an instant his plan of offering her just one quick kiss was shot to hell. After ravishing her mouth for a full minute, he backed her against the railing and kissed her again…then again.
He meant to stop. He would stop. Soon, he told himself. But he was losing control, and she was letting him. And that was when it hit him.
He was no better than the man from her past—the one who’d hurt her so deeply.
“Dammit, chérie, what the hell are you trying to do to me?” Then, before she could answer, before her head had a chance to clear and grasp just how close she’d come, he melted into the shadows.
Dear Reader,
As Silhouette Books’ 20th anniversary continues, Intimate Moments continues to bring you six superb titles every month. And certainly this month—when we begin with Suzanne Brockmann’s Get Lucky—is no exception. This latest entry in her TALL, DARK & DANGEROUS miniseries features ladies’ man Lucky O’Donlon, a man who finally meets the woman who is his match—and more.
Linda Turner’s A Ranching Man is the latest of THOSE MARRYING MCBRIDES!, featuring Joe McBride and the damsel in distress who wins his heart. Monica McLean was a favorite with her very first book, and now she’s back with Just a Wedding Away, an enthralling marriage-of-convenience story. Lauren Nichols introduces an Accidental Father who offers the heroine happiness in THE LOVING ARMS OF THE LAW. Saving Grace is the newest from prolific RaeAnne Thayne, who’s rapidly making a name for herself with readers. And finally, welcome new author Wendy Rosnau. After you read The Long Hot Summer, you’ll be eager for her to make a return appearance.
And, of course, we hope to see you next month when, once again, Silhouette Intimate Moments brings you six of the best and most exciting romance novels around.
Enjoy!
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
The Long Hot Summer
Wendy Rosnau
This book is dedicated to my husband, Jerry,
the hero in my life and partner in all things. To Tyler and Jenni, for their love and bright smiles. And to Lettie Lee, for her instincts, support and always taking my call.
WENDY ROSNAU
lives on sixty secluded acres in the Northwoods of Minnesota with her husband and their two energetic teenagers. A former hairdresser, today she divides her time between the bookstore she and her husband opened in 1998, keeping one step ahead of her two crafty kids, and writing romance. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, painting and drawing, traveling, and, most of all, spending time with those two crafty kids and their dad.
A great believer in the power of love and the words never give up, Wendy’s goal of becoming a published author is a testimony that dreams can and do come true. You can write to her at P.O. Box 441, Brainerd, Minnesota 56401. For a personal reply send a SASE.
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
Chapter 15
Chapter 1
Angola State Penitentiary
The hell of it was, the parole deal stunk. But if Johnny agreed to the terms, he’d be breathing fresh air within the hour. It should have been an easy choice to make—he’d been rotting in Louisiana’s maximum-security prison for six months. Yeah, it should have been easy—if only the terms of his parole weren’t so ridiculous.
A buzzer sounded and the iron door electronically unlocked. “Come on, Bernard, put a wiggle in it,” the guard ordered. “The warden wants to see you, pronto.”
Contrary to the direct order, Johnny slowly got to his feet. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out his half-used pack of Camels, and passed the cigarettes to his cell mate, who lay sprawled on the top bunk. They exchanged a look; it said, Good luck, but don’t bet too high on the odds. Then, in a lazy gait that had been a Bernard trademark for over half a century, Johnny sauntered through the open door and into the corridor of Cell Block C.
When Johnny entered the warden’s office moments later, Pete Lasky looked up from the mound of paperwork scattered on his cheap metal desk. Lasky owned a pair of uncharitable blue eyes, and a false grin that exposed a row of coffee-stained teeth—an occupational hazard created by the monotony of ten-hour days sandwiched between a desk and a window overlooking a bleak, prisoner-filled courtyard. “So, Bernard, you wanna be cut loose today?”
The stupid question deserved a stupid answer, but Johnny didn’t plan on getting cute; the sixty-year-old warden didn’t own a sense of humor. “No chance for a fat fine and public service?”
“Sure would make life easier for you, wouldn’t it?” Pete grinned. “Well, it ain’t gonna happen. Easy, I mean. Never did like that word. Easy ain’t gonna teach you when to keep your mouth shut or your fist out of some poor devil’s face. And those are two lessons that would do you some good.”
Johnny had heard it all before, and in most cases what was said about him was true. Only, in this particular instance—the one the warden was referring to—he hadn’t been shooting off his mouth, or taking the first swing. Yeah, he’d retaliated, but only after Farrel had come at him.
“I’ve had two phone conversations with your hometown sheriff,” the warden continued. “Looks like Sheriff Tucker’s not any happier about these parole terms than you are. The way he tells it, you’re about as popular in Common as a copper-belly at a Fourth of July picnic. But like I told him, I’m not in the ‘happy’ business.” The warden opened his top drawer, then took out the paperwork for Johnny’s release and laid it on his desk. “By the way, if you agree to this deal, that man—the one you damn near killed—is off-limits. Any criminal conduct will nullify your parole. Carrying a weapon will do the same. Failure to comply will earn you another six months inside. So what’s it gonna be?”
Johnny jammed his hands in the back pockets of his faded jeans, and the image of Belle Bayou suddenly surfaced. With it came a treasured memory from his youth—his father teaching him how to fish cane-pole style at sunrise.
The truth was, if he agreed to the warden’s parole deal, he would be waking up to that sunrise every morning for the next four months. He hadn’t been back home in years—not until six months ago, anyway—but he’d never been able to forget the bond he’d formed with the bayou.
He knew the bayou as well as any of the old-timers. He knew where the best fishing spots were. Where the shy blue herons nested, and where every hidden channel in the bayou ended up. He also knew what a stir he’d cause by showing up in town again.
“Well?”
“I’ll