LITMIR.BIZ

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      PATRICIA THAYER

      has been writing for sixteen years and has published nineteen books with Silhouette. Her books have been nominated for the National Readers’ Choice Award, Virginia Romance Writers of America’s Holt Medallion, Orange Rose Contest and a prestigious RITA^® Award. In 1997, Nothing Short of a Miracle won the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Special Edition.

      Thanks to the understanding men in her life—her husband of thirty-two years, Steve, and her three grown sons and two grandsons—Pat has been able to fulfill her dream of writing romance. Another dream is to own a cabin in Colorado, where she can spend her days writing and her evenings with her favorite hero, Steve. She loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 6251, Anaheim, CA 92816-0251, or check her Web site at www.patriciathayer.com for upcoming books.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      “A merger for a marriage.” Jed Foster’s voice sounded confident, almost smug. “I have to admit you really came through, J.C.”

      Tori’s breath stopped as she removed her hand from the doorknob and forced herself to listen to the conversation between her father and the man she would marry in the morning.

      “I told you not to worry,” J.C. assured his future son-in-law. “The wedding is in less than eighteen hours and by the end of the month, your company will be part of Sherco. Tori, being married, finally gets her control of her grandfather’s stock. Between the two of us, we’ll have the majority shares. Now it will be up to you to convince Tori how to vote her shares.”

      “That shouldn’t be too hard. I’ve been able to persuade her to see things my way for months.”

      Tori felt sick, hearing the satisfaction in her fiancé’s voice. Her grandfather’s will had been ironclad. She had to be either thirty years old, or married before she received her inheritance.

      She stepped back from the door, somehow found her way through the hotel lobby and into the ladies’ room. She sank against the sink and tried to slow her breathing.

      Her marriage to Jed had been arranged as part of the two companies’ merger. All Jed wanted was to get control of her company shares.

      Turning on the faucet, she splashed cold water on her heated face. How humiliating. Her father had actually bought a husband for her. Did he think she couldn’t find a man on her own? Well, why was she surprised? J. C. Sheridan liked being in control of everything, from the boardroom to his only child’s life.

      Anger welled up, along with tears. He’d soon learn his reign was about to end.

      Victoria Sheridan wasn’t going to let her father or anyone else manipulate her, because she wasn’t going to be around. She grabbed her purse and marched out of the hotel, leaving her wedding rehearsal dinner and future groom behind.

      After retrieving her car from the valet, she climbed in and headed out of the parking lot. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to get away. She would no longer do the sensible thing—the calm thing. She had let her father convince her that marrying Jed was best for her.

      But, hell, did she even love Jed? Did she even know him?

      With only her honeymoon suitcase in the backseat, Tori stopped by the bank and withdrew the cash limit on the only credit card she had with her. The corporate credit card. When her cell phone began to ring, she turned it off and drove her car onto the freeway. North? South? Lord, she couldn’t even make a decision. Finally she turned south and began driving away from San Francisco, to parts unknown…and a new life.

      Chapter One

      Early one spring morning, Sheriff Nate Hunter was driving on patrol, minding his own business, when he spotted her. She was a beauty. His heart skipped a beat, then set off racing. There she was in the middle of the southern Arizona desert with the sun highlighting her curves, her perfect lines. Not to mention that low-slung body and all that polished chrome.

      A 1966 classic, hardtop-convertible red Corvette.

      Nate slowed his breathing as well as his patrol car, made a quick U-turn, and pulled up behind the Vette. He climbed out and walked along the desert highway toward the vehicle. Outside of being dusty, she looked in mint condition. Who would leave a car like this in the middle of nowhere? California plates. He copied down the numbers and soon discovered the problem. A trail of oily substance dotted along the shoulder of the road and ended under the back of the car. He groaned as he thought about the expensive repair bill.

      Nate approached the passenger side, crouched down and looked in. In the driver’s seat he found a woman. Her head was tilted back, her eyes were closed and her long wheat-colored hair was draped against the white leather bucket seat.

      Her slender body barely took up any room at all. His attention moved to her chest. The pink knit T-shirt fit snugly over her breasts, moving up and down with her relaxed breathing. She was asleep.

      Nate rapped his knuckles against the window, but she didn’t stir. He leaned closer. She was young, maybe in her midtwenties, and attractive, with a pert nose and flawless skin. His body began to react like the hot desert heat and he glanced away to compose himself.

      He tapped on the window again and this time, she awoke with a start. When she opened those big, golden brown, more-striking-than-any-he’d-ever-seen eyes, Nate felt as if he’d been gut-punched.

      Tori Sheridan jumped and her eyes widened at the sight of the large figure standing outside her car. Panic surged through her. “Go away,” she cried, looking away from the broad-shouldered silhouette outlined by the sun.

      “Ma’am, you can’t park here,” he called out. “It’s dangerous. Do you need help?”

      Tori had been on the road for three days and in that time she’d had plenty of men who were more than willing to help her. If she’d been smart, she would have sold her Corvette and bought a sensible sedan. But she loved her car.

      “If you don’t leave

Скачать книгу