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      Clint Whitfield Was The Most

       Dangerous Man She’d Ever Met,

       The Kind Of Man Who Touched

       Every Instinct Known To

       Womankind.

      Although she enjoyed the sensual art of flirtation, she’d become wary of deeper involvement. So she’d decided she didn’t need romance in her life. Friendship would do.

      But this man had stirred something deep inside her, something innocent of prior experience. And he’d done it without the usual social exchanges, with little verbal or physical communication, and without using an ounce of masculine charm.

      Baffled by his effect on her, Regina studied the sculpted features now softened by slumber, the challenging, provocative scar. “Yep, dangerous,” she murmured, a smile touching her mouth. “Wonderfully dangerous.”

      Dear Reader,

      Welcome to the world of Silhouette Desire, where you can indulge yourself every month with romances that can only be described as passionate, powerful and provocative!

      Silhouette’s beloved author Annette Broadrick returns to Desire with a MAN OF THE MONTH who is Hard To Forget. Love rings true when former high school sweethearts reunite while both are on separate undercover missions to their hometown. Bestselling writer Cait London offers you A Loving Man, when a big-city businessman meets a country girl and learns the true meaning of love.

      The Desire theme promotion THE BABY BANK, about sperm-bank client heroines who find love unexpectedly, returns with Amy J. Fetzer’s Having His Child, part of her WIFE, INC. miniseries. The tantalizing Desire miniseries THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS: THE LOST HEIRS continues with Baby of Fortune by Shirley Rogers. In Undercover Sultan, the second book of Alexandra Sellers’s SONS OF THE DESERT: THE SULTANS trilogy, a handsome prince is forced to go on the run with a sexy mystery woman—who may be the enemy. And Ashley Summers writes of a Texas tycoon who comes home to find a beautiful stranger living in his mansion in Beauty in His Bedroom.

      This month see inside for details about our exciting new contest “Silhouette Makes You a Star.” You’ll feel like a star when you delve into all six fantasies created in Desire books this August!

      Enjoy!

      Joan Marlow Golan

      Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

      Beauty in His Bedroom

      Ashley Summers

      MILLS & BOON

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      To Rita Gallagher,

       mentor, companion and best friend.

       Thank you for being in my life.

      ASHLEY SUMMERS

      is an incurable romantic who lives in Texas, in a house that overflows with family and friends. Her busy life revolves around the man she married thirty years ago, her three children and her handsome grandson, Eric. Formerly the owner and operator of a landscaping firm, she also enjoys biking, aerobics, reading and traveling.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      One

      Regina Flynn stepped into the elegant, two-story foyer with a wariness bordering on the absurd. As an employee of Lamar’s Home Maintenance and Security Agency, she had a perfect right to enter this uninhabited home. Yet the sound of her heels on the black-and-white marble floor was shockingly loud, and her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy.

      Regina stopped just inside the door, her little blue pot of African violets clutched to her chest like a talisman. Even the August heat did not warm her inner chill. Closing the door, she leaned against its hard surface with a gusty sigh.

      “I’ve done it,” she whispered. “I’ve stolen a house.”

      A sharp shake of head immediately rejected this preposterous notion; the assistant to Lamar’s regional manager did not steal houses! Her position with the agency placed her in charge of the North Houston area, and this handsome estate, owned by a man named Clint Whitfield, was merely part of her portfolio of managed properties.

      “All you’ve done is assign him a house sitter, Regina,” she corrected herself crisply. “You do have that authority, you know. The house sitter just happens to be you.”

      Annoyed with herself—and an overly active conscience she could never quite master—Regina felt for the light switch. In the growing dusk, the boxes holding her belongings looked pitifully few; when a chandelier flooded the area with light, they appeared even more misplaced.

      Sadness tightened her throat. Everything she owned fit easily into six cardboard boxes. Not much of a legacy for twenty-nine years of living, she thought dispiritedly.

      Catching sight of herself in an ornate wall mirror, Regina pushed at the red-gold curls swirling around her face in riotous disarray. “Flynn, you’re a mess,” she snapped at her green-eyed image. Her voice seemed to rebound off the walls.

      Edging around boxes, she walked down the hall. White-shrouded furniture haunted darkened rooms. Chilled air blew through concealed vents, a necessity in Houston’s humid climate despite the absence of people. Air-conditioning, not ghosts, caused her goose bumps, she chided her quick shiver.

      She paused in the sculptural arch of another doorway. Beyond lay the great room, a huge, airy space that encompassed the kitchen, breakfast nook and dining room wing, the family room, and glass-roofed conservatory forming the rear wall. She felt a little foolish bringing this modest violet into such opulence. With exaggerated care she centered it on the kitchen windowsill. Almost magically it meshed with its setting.

      “As if to the manor born,” she quipped, patting a velvety leaf. “You’re just what this house needed.”

      Flipping another light switch, she caught her breath at the beauty its mellow glow revealed. Clint Whitfield had built something really special, she thought softly.

      So why had he left it vacant for so long?

      As usual, her thorny question went unanswered. She didn’t know Clint Whitfield; she’d been in another department when he contracted with the agency. Later, a promotion had put her in charge of his file, and she’d been inside his gracious, white-columned abode several

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