LITMIR.BIZ

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      Something warned her she wasn’t alone.

      Lauren turned and found Daniel standing in the doorway, his eyes shadowed. Her relaxed feeling disappeared. Acutely conscious of her yoga clothes – a midriff-baring tank top and stretchy capris – she swallowed hard.

      “Snow’s stopped.”

      Her nerves tingled at the hoarse note in his voice.

      “I…good. That’s good.” How could he possibly talk about the weather with all the currents zinging between them? She couldn’t even manage to string together a coherent thought.

      “How’d the, er, low-down dog go?”

      That strange note in his voice caught her attention again and she took a closer look at his expression. She finally saw the hunger there – hot desire with an edge of desperation.

      She continued to stare at him, hypnotised by the twitch of muscle in his jaw. He was so big, so dangerously male, and all she could think about was how easy it would be to tug him into the bedroom right now and get her hands on all that hard strength…

       ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      RaeAnne Thayne finds inspiration in the beautiful northern Utah mountains, where she lives with her husband and three children. Her books have won numerous honours, including a RITA® Award nomination from Romance Writers of America and a Career Achievement award from Romantic Times BOOKreviews magazine. RaeAnne loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at www.raeannethayne.com or at PO Box 6682, North Logan, UT 84341, USA.

      Dear Reader,

      When I was writing the book that became The Interpreter (September 2006) I introduced a couple of secondary characters – a big, gorgeous sheriff and a dedicated family doctor in the small fictional town of Moose Springs, Utah. Daniel Galvez and Lauren Maxwell both had important roles to play, but as is the case with many secondary characters, they both disappeared stage left once their respective jobs were done.

      Usually that’s the end of it, but from the instant Daniel and Lauren showed up in my subconscious, they lingered there and I knew I would have to write their story. I couldn’t wait to find out why there was such tension whenever they showed up. What dark secrets stood between them? Why did Daniel freeze every time Lauren walked into the room? Why did she treat this man everyone else respected and admired with such cool reserve?

      I had a great time writing their story, discovering those answers. I have to say, Daniel Galvez became one of my all-time favourite heroes, quiet and strong, willing to risk everything to keep all the people in his town safe – especially the woman he has always loved.

      All my best,

       RaeAnne

      Shelter from the Storm

      RAEANNE THAYNE

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      To Darcy Rhodes, for sharing your singing and your smiles, for changing diapers and telling jokes and helping us take unforgettable journeys we once thought were impossible. You’ll always be part of our family!

      Chapter 1

      “Would you take your shirt off, please?”

      Under other circumstances—and from just about any other woman—Daniel Galvez might have been tempted to take those words as a rather enticing request.

      From Dr. Lauren Maxwell, he knew all too well she meant nothing suggestive—as much as he might wish otherwise.

      He sighed, detesting this whole ordeal, even as he knew he had no choice but to comply. His right hand went to the buttons of his uniform and he wrestled them free, uncomfortably aware of her watching him out of those intense blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing.

      He had to work hard to hide a wince as he shrugged out of his shirt, mentally bracing himself for the moment she would touch him with those cool fingers.

      The pain didn’t worry him. He had coped with much worse than a little scratch on the arm. Handling Lauren and the feelings she always stirred up in him was another matter entirely.

      She watched him take off his shirt, her eyes veiled as they always seemed to be in his presence, and he wondered what she saw. The dirt-poor Mexican kid on the school bus in the fraying, too-small jeans and the threadbare coat? Or the harsh, hard-as-nails cop she must hate?

      Those cool, lovely features didn’t reveal even a hint of whatever she might think of him. Just as well, he thought. He had a feeling he was better off not knowing.

      “Sorry to come in so late,” he said as he pulled his blood-soaked shirt away. “I wouldn’t have stopped if I hadn’t seen the lights on as I was driving past.”

      She raised an eyebrow, though her attention remained fixed on his reason for being in her examination room of the Moose Springs Medical Clinic. “That’s quite a nasty laceration you’ve got there, Sheriff. What were you going to do about it, if you weren’t going to stop here? Stitch it up yourself?”

      If he were capable of such a feat, he probably would have tried rather than finding himself in this uncomfortable position. “I figured I would catch a minute to run into the emergency clinic in Park City later.”

      That was still his preferred option. But since he was missing two deputies this weekend in a department that was already understaffed, he didn’t have that luxury.

      This was his third night of double shifts and he just couldn’t spare the personal leave to drive the half hour to Park City, sit in the emergency clinic there while he waited his turn for a couple hours among all the banged-up skiers and tourists with altitude sickness, then drive a half hour back to Moose Springs.

      With the ski season in full swing, Park City in January was crazy anyway—throw in an independent film festival that drew thousands of Hollywood types and their entourages, and he would just about rather chew tire spikes then spend time there if he didn’t have to.

      Even if that meant baring his chest for Lauren Maxwell.

      “You know I’m always on call for you and your deputies if you need me,” she said. Though her voice was low and polite, he still felt a pinch of reprimand.

      She stepped forward, close enough that he could smell the subtle, intoxicating scent of jasmine and vanilla that always seemed to cling to her. She didn’t touch him yet, just continued to study the jagged three-inch cut on his upper arm that was beginning to throb like hell.

      “How did you say you were injured?”

      “Bar fight down at Mickey’s. Some joker from out of town got mad when Johnny Baldwin kept playing ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ on the jukebox.”

      “Uh-oh. He and Carol are fighting again?”

      “Apparently. By about the sixth go-around, the tourist had had enough of Billy Ray and tried to physically prevent Johnny from putting

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