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      MILLS & BOON

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      To Bruce and Leslie, for all your expertise, patience and, most of all, friendship. Without you, this book wouldn’t have happened. Thank you.

      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

      Epilogue

      1

      HE’D NEVER FORGET his first glimpse of her. Or his second. She walked in as if she owned the place, and in spite of the chaos around him, Mike Wright’s gaze went straight to her.

      It was all indelibly imprinted on his mind: the harsh storm outside pounding against the fogged windows of the hotel’s pub; the lights flickering overhead as the electricity spiked with the repeated thunder and lightning; the loud strains of Bruce Springsteen blaring from the speakers mounted on the walls; and the even louder voices of the crowd around him talking, laughing, flirting.

      He’d been preoccupied, thinking about the reason he was in Huntsville, Alabama, in the first place—his life’s work, flying space-shuttle missions. The primary pilot of STS-124 had broken his leg parachuting and the first team backup had contacted hepatitis. All of which left Mike, once the secondary backup, as primary. He’d been called home from Russia, where he’d been on loan from NASA to the Russian space agency for the past decade.

      Mike loved being an astronaut, loved his testosterone-run life. But he loved women, too. All of them, all shapes and sizes and colors and temperaments, and everything else faded away the moment she stepped foot into the place—the storm, the crowd, the noise, everything.

      She was wet. Drenched, actually, her dark, dark hair plastered to her head, her clothes molded to her body.

      Another poor, unsuspecting victim of Huntsville’s weather.

      He could empathize, having just come from Russia’s much more predictable climate. But this woman didn’t look like anyone’s poor, unsuspecting victim, not with all that attitude, fire and rage spitting from her eyes.

      Drenched and inconvenienced, Mike guessed. And furious because of it. Amused, he watched as she pressed on through the thick crowd, and in spite of her petite stature, people moved out of her way.

      It might have been the fact she was a woman, when most of the patrons were men. On-the-prowl men at that. But Mike thought it was most likely her queen-to-peasant look, which was icily effective.

      She worked her way closer, heading directly toward the bar, and by coincidence, him.

      “Something hot,” she demanded of the bartender, setting one hand down on the bar as she dropped her bag, establishing a spot for herself where there was none to be had. She looked to both sides, left then right, clearly expecting someone to get off a stool so she could sit.

      Grinning now, Mike rose. “Please,” he said, gesturing for her to take over his seat.

      “Thank you.” As if she wasn’t dripping a river of sleet and rain onto the floor, she sat and tossed back her hair. When the bartender slid what looked like an Irish coffee in her direction, she nodded her head regally and sipped. And then sighed. Sinfully. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, as if she’d just dropped the weight of the world.

      After a good long moment she appeared to realize Mike was still standing next to her. Her dark-blue eyes were cool and assessing, in direct contrast to her wet, incredibly lush, incredibly sexy body.

      “No coat?” he asked, referring to the fact that she wore only a black, long-sleeved silky blouse and skirt, both of which were so wet they couldn’t have been tighter if she’d painted them on. What should have been a very conservative, businesslike outfit became outrageously erotic, especially given that she had a body that could make a grown man drop to his knees and beg.

      “Someone stole it at the airport.” She grimaced. “I hate airports. Let’s just say this is a day better forgotten all around.”

      She didn’t have the Southern drawl of the people around him. Another misplaced traveler, he thought, just like him. “Got caught by surprise in the storm, did you?”

      “Yes, and I hate surprises.”

      Her voice was as cool as

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