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      CARLA CASSIDY

      has written over thirty-five books for Silhouette. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance, and in 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series, both from Romantic Times Magazine.

      Carla believes the only thing better than a good book to read is a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

      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

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 1

      “Johnna Delaney, you are out of order!” Judge Orin Wellsby bellowed as he banged his gavel to emphasize his irritation.

      “And you are a cantankerous old goat,” Johnna muttered beneath her breath.

      A white eyebrow rose and Judge Wellsby’s pale-blue eyes narrowed. “You are coming dangerously close to a contempt charge, Counselor.”

      Johnna’s client, Susan Boskow, a twenty-two-year-old mother of three charged with shoplifting, frowned, obviously worried by the heated exchange between the judge and her defender.

      Johnna was aware of Chet Maxwell, the overzealous, pompous prosecuting attorney grinning in smug delight.

      She sighed and attempted to swallow her anger—along with the bitter taste of her pride. “I apologize, Your Honor. I guess I just got carried away with the zest of defending my client.”

      Judge Wellsby, apparently mollified by her apology, banged his gavel once again. “Court is in recess until tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock.”

      As the judge disappeared from the bench, Johnna said goodbye to Susan, then began shoving paperwork into her briefcase.

      “Are you all right?”

      Johnna looked up at the familiar voice. Kelly Linstrom, who worked as her secretary and receptionist in her law office, eyed her worriedly.

      Slapping another bundle of paperwork into her briefcase, Johnna drew a deep breath to steady her anger. “That old coot should have retired ten years ago,” she exclaimed, her voice slightly unsteady. “He only sticks around so he can be a burr on my behind.”

      Kelly grinned impishly. “I’m not sure who is the burr on whose behind.”

      Johnna smiled tightly.

      Kelly’s grin widened. “Hopefully you can finish this trial without spending any time in jail for contempt. Don’t you have your brother’s wedding to attend tomorrow afternoon?”

      “Yes, although from what Mark told me, it’s just going to be a simple ceremony in the church down the street.”

      “I’d settle for a simple ceremony if only somebody would ask me to marry him,” Kelly said ruefully. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

      “Bright and early,” Johnna replied. As Kelly left the courtroom, Johnna snapped her briefcase closed, threw her empty coffee cup into a nearby trash bin, then turned to leave the courtroom. That was when she saw him.

      He sat in the back row, the only person left in the room other than her. Shock riveted through Johnna as her mind worked to accept his presence here in Inferno, Arizona—here in this very courtroom.

      “Hello, Johnna,” he said, and stood.

      Her first impulse was to run, to shove past him and escape. The very sight of him, so tall—so damnably handsome—stirred old memories and deep emotions, memories and emotions she had firmly repressed for the past nine years and certainly didn’t want to remember or feel now.

      “Hello, Jerrod.” She was pleased at the controlled cool tone of her voice. “I didn’t realize you were back in town.” Nice, civil, as if she was speaking to anyone she knew.

      But this isn’t just anyone! her heart cried. This is Jerrod McCain, the man who had once owned her heart—when she’d had a heart to own.

      He shrugged those impossibly broad shoulders, his blue gaze sweeping down her body, taking her in from head to toe. She felt his gaze as if it was the caress of his warm fingertips, and she stiffened defensively against the invisible assault. “I’ve been in town a little over a week. I’ve been staying out at my dad’s place.”

      A week. He’d been in Inferno a whole week and she hadn’t felt his presence, hadn’t instinctively known he was near. Good. He was firmly and forever out of her life, out of her heart.

      “Well, it’s nice to see you,” she said with what she thought was just the right touch of airy nonchalance. She headed

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