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“You make me different, you make me want to be different.”
A startled glow went through Janina. She blushed for the first time in…well, it felt like forever. Maybe it was. “I—I don’t know what to say. Thank you. You—I—”
The oh-so-gentle tip of Russ’s forefinger touched her mouth. “Dance with me?”
“Yes.”
The one word was like magic, as though she’d said “Abracadabra.” Just that quickly, the outside fell away, she was in his arms and the music and Russ’s heartbeat were the only things she heard, felt, knew. The rhythm of her heart keeping time to Russ’s was what she moved to, the feel of his body against hers was all the cue she needed, the slightest pressure of his hand in the small of her back, of his thighs against hers, his knee between them while they swayed.
She reached her arms around him as far as they would go, to hold him, hold on to him. Make sure he was really there. “Neither one of us is dreaming. We’re both really here. Together, same wavelength. For a change.”
Dear Reader,
No doubt your summer’s already hot, but it’s about to get hotter, because New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham is back in Silhouette Intimate Moments! In the Dark is a riveting, heart-pounding tale of romantic suspense set in the Florida Keys in the middle of a hurricane. It’s emotional, sexy and an absolute edge-of-your-seat read. Don’t miss it!
FAMILY SECRETS: THE NEXT GENERATION continues with Triple Dare by Candace Irvin, featuring a woman in jeopardy and the very special hero who saves her life. Heir to Danger is the first in Valerie Parv’s CODE OF THE OUTBACK miniseries. Join Princess Shara Najran as she goes on the run to Australia—and straight into the arms of love. Terese Ramin returns with Shotgun Honeymoon, a wonderful—and wonderfully suspenseful—marriage-of-inconvenience story. Brenda Harlen has quickly become a must-read author, and Bulletproof Hearts will only further her reputation for writing complex, heartfelt page-turners. Finally, welcome back Susan Vaughan, whose Guarding Laura is full of both secrets and sensuality.
Enjoy them all, and come back next month for more of the most exciting romance reading around—only from Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Enjoy!
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Editor
Shotgun Honeymoon
Terese Ramin
TERESE RAMIN
The granddaughter of an Irish Blarney Stone kisser (who, lowered by her ankles to do so, kissed it last at the age of ninety-six) and the oldest of eight, Terese Ramin has been surrounded by kids, chaos and storytelling all her life. At the request of her siblings she told outrageous stories late into the night, which caused a great deal of giggling among the kids and aggravation for her parents, who merely wanted them all to Go To Sleep! Terese lives in Michigan with five dogs, three cats, two kids and a husband who creates sawdust.
To all the waitresses who have waited on and fed me throughout the years, especially the ones at Little Chef in Brighton, MI. You guys are the best. And to the gang in the BT Bayou: thanks for the silliness factor.
For my darling daughter, Brynna, who goaded me into writing a different book from the one I originally had in mind. I love you with all my heart. Also for C. Rita Brigham, friend and student, who at eighty-plus may be full of vinegar but has failed miserably at turning into it. To shared laughter. Love you, my dear.
Acknowledgments
My sincere thanks to the following people: Annette Mahon, Cat Brown, Kristi Studts, and Karen K.—Arizona. Lillian Stewart Carl—title. Special thanks to Intimate Moments authors Melissa James, Lindsay Longford, Vickie Taylor and Linda Wisdom, who responded to a friend in need. As ever, all leaps of faith, lapses of reality and flat-out mistakes are wholly my own.
“Like newborn calves we will not be afraid of tigers.”
—2000 Chinese men’s Olympic gymnastics team motto
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
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Prologue
Winslow, Arizona
July 17. Thirteen years ago
The worst nights didn’t start with a body on the ground. They began with a dispute that could end with a body on the ground, possibly his.
Russ Levoie, nineteen, and only three months out of the police academy, had known this going in. He’d seen it up close and personal on the Havasupai reservation where he’d grown up—not in his own family, but in too many of the other families. Poverty begat fear begat the need to numb it begat drinking—or some other form of self-medication—begat dispute begat violence. And the cycle didn’t alter with the scenery, it simply changed addresses. Nevertheless, here he was, headed into a trailer park on his own on a “see the woman” domestic-violence call because no one else was close enough to take it with him. And hot damn, didn’t that just make him feel peachy-safe.
On the other hand, if he’d really meant to feel safe for the rest of his life, he’d have chosen another line of work. But this was all he ever remembered wanting to do. Adrenaline pumping, he parked his car, radioed in his position, alighted and slid his nightstick into place on his left hip before unsnapping the holster flap on his right.
Across the dusty street, he saw a white curtain flutter back into place. The neighbor that had called in, he guessed, peeking out to see who’d arrived. He headed in that direction. The door was cracked open and a hand beckoned him through the chicken-scratch front yard. “They’ve stopped now,” the woman behind the screen said. Her voice was hushed as though in deference to the dusk. She carried a cigarette to her lips, lit it, inhaled and blew smoke from the corner of her mouth back into her trailer, away from Russ. Crossed an arm beneath her flat chest and propped her other elbow on it. The hand that held the cigarette to her mouth trembled.
Behind her, almost hidden in the shadows, was one of the young waitresses from the diner he frequented almost every evening before he went on duty. Janina. Young, pretty, everyday made astounding by a pair of huge heavily fringed mahogany eyes and a thick, roughly halved mane of hair the midnight side of brown. His heart and libido did the same damn telltale hop-skip-and-pucker it’d done any time he’d wound up in her vicinity lately. Damn because at maybe sixteen and still in high school Janina was jailbait. Still she was a cute little thing. He hoped her future would be more attractive than her present appeared to be.
“I don’t get involved,” Janina’s mother recalled his attention by saying, “but this time it’s bad, worse’n I ever heard. Hadda call, y’know? Lotta bangin’ around—someone gettin’ hit, like. Body hittin’ walls, furniture bustin’ ’n all. Then I hear her scream and she runs out the house all bloody.