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Till Death Us Do Part. Rebecca York
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Автор произведения Rebecca York
Жанр Зарубежные детективы
Издательство HarperCollins
Till Death Us Do Part
Rebecca York
Dear Readers,
An author’s heroines and heroes are like her children. They have their faults. And sometimes they give us fits. But we love them dearly, and want the best for them.
Of course, there’s always a lot that happens in a 43 Light Street book before the payoff. You’ve probably noticed that we put our characters through terrible trials—to bring them to an emotional peak and force them to display their heroic qualities under enormous pressure. But we also introduce them to a soul mate—the perfect someone with whom they can live happily ever after.
That’s why we’re so thrilled to be writing Jed Prentiss’s story. In the third Peregrine book, In Search of the Dove, we put Jed through the tortures of the damned. We hoped we’d get to write his story in a fourth Peregrine novel. But he’s had to wait almost ten years for his own book. We’ve had a long time to think about the perfect woman for him. She had to be strong, so she could stand up to him. She had to be spirited to attract him. And she had to be vulnerable to bring out his protective instincts. We think Marissa Devereaux fits the bill. And we hope you agree.
All the best,
Rebecca York
(Ruth Glick and Eileen Buckholtz)
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Marissa Devereaux—She’d walked into a deadly trap. Now only one man could save her, if she dared accept the bargain he offered.
Jed Prentiss—The former Peregrine agent had taken an assignment that might get him killed.
Miguel Sanchez—The general had an iron grip on San Marcos. How far could Marissa and Jed trust him?
William Johnson—What was the Texan really doing in San Marcos.
Louis Rinaldo—The tough-looking Minister of Development had worked his way up from street-gang member to cabinet officer.
Thomas Leandro—The balding professor spouted Marxist doctrine, but where were his loyalties?
Pedro Harara—The banker was waiting for Marissa to make a false step.
Madre Flora—How much influence did the wise old woman wield on General Sanchez’s fiefdom?
Clarita Sanchez—Was the general’s daughter jealous enough to kill Marissa?
Contents
Chapter One
It required effort to keep the smile on his face.
With his thoughts in sudden turmoil and his fingers tightening dangerously around a tumbler of planter’s punch, Jed Prentiss stared across the crowded room at the woman with the upswept golden curls. Was that Marissa? Here to screw things up for him—again.
The minister of economic development asked him a question, and he replied automatically in Spanish. At the same time he shifted slightly to the right to catch another look at the blonde through the crowd.
She turned with a graceful motion to put a champagne flute down on a passing waiter’s tray, and he got a glimpse of her face. He was right. It was Marissa Devereaux. He’d recognize that silky hair anywhere. It crowned a heart-shaped face with innocent-looking blue eyes, a petite nose and a mouth that could twist facts and half truths together so adroitly you didn’t know you’d been had until the middle of the next week.
In fact, she was almost as good at undercover work as he was. Except that she took foolish chances. As if she had nothing to lose.
Damn! She was the last person he wanted to see. What the hell was she doing in San Marcos—much less at a party being held at Miguel Sanchez’s town house? What possible reason would San Marcos’s army commander in chief have for inviting her? Jed couldn’t think of one.
After promising that he’d talk with the minister about mining loans later in the week, he excused himself and made his way across the room. The nearer he got to Marissa, the more burningly aware of her he became. He couldn’t possibly be close enough to smell her perfume, yet he imagined the scent of gardenia drifting toward him. She was wearing a little black dress that she probably didn’t think of as sexy. But it emphasized her narrow waist and sassy little hips. He hadn’t seen the front, but he knew it would be clinging to her high, firm breasts.
He scowled. He’d better keep his mind on business.
He could see she was finishing a conversation with Thomas Leandro, the outspoken university professor who’d made his reputation with pie-in-the-sky blueprints for turning the Central American republic into a socialist paradise. The professor was on Jed’s list, too. But he could wait.
When Leandro went off toward the buffet table, Jed stepped into Marissa’s path. Her cheeks took on a hint of heightened color, and her blue eyes widened and darkened: but the momentary lapse was her only betrayal of surprise—or anything else.
No matter how many times they met, he was never prepared for her reaction to him. As if she were suppressing strong emotions she didn’t want him to read—or couldn’t acknowledge. Whenever he’d tried to find out what was going on below the surface of those beautiful blue eyes, they had iced over. The rebuffs had hurt his ego. He’d vowed never to let it happen again.
“Jed. How nice to see you. Are you here on behalf of the Global Bank?”
Smooth, he thought. As if they were nothing more than friendly colleagues who traveled in the same business circles.
“Yes,” he replied, matching her coolness.