Carla Cassidy - To Wed and Protect

Admiration for her fluttered through him, and he became aware of several things at once, like the fact that Abby’s sweet scent filled the room and that she was clad in only a pale, frilly nightgown.

He had an overwhelming desire to learn every inch of her. His body reacted to his thoughts, filling with a tension that seemed unbearable.

But it was a tension he wouldn’t, couldn’t, follow through on.

And in that instant, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. It wouldn’t solve the problem, but it just might give Abby a fighting chance.

“Abby.” He stood and faced her. “Marry me.”

Dear Reader,

Happy New Year! And happy reading, too—starting with the wonderful Ruth Langan and Return of the Prodigal Son, the latest in her newest miniseries, THE LASSITER LAW. When this burned-out ex-agent comes home looking for some R and R, what he finds instead is a beautiful widow with irresistible children and a heart ready for love. His love.

This is also the month when we set out on a twelve-book adventure called ROMANCING THE CROWN. Linda Turner starts things off with The Man Who Would Be King. Return with her to the island kingdom of Montebello, where lives—and hearts—are about to be changed forever.

The rest of the month is terrific, too. Kylie Brant’s CHARMED AND DANGEROUS concludes with Hard To Tame, Carla Cassidy continues THE DELANEY HEIRS with To Wed and Protect, Debra Cowan offers a hero who knows the heroine is Still the One, and Monica McLean tells us The Nanny’s Secret. And, of course, we’ll be back next month with six more of the best and most exciting romances around.

Enjoy!

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

has written over forty 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.

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

The place looked as if it had been abandoned for years, but Luke knew it had only stood empty for a little less than a year. However, before abandonment the house and surrounding acreage had been owned by a cantankerous, eccentric old man who, rumor had it, had believed himself from the planet Zutar and spent most of his time attempting to contact fellow space creatures.

But Zutarian Arthur Graham had died almost a year earlier, and as far as Luke Delaney knew, the ramshackle house had not been entered since.

The early morning sun beat relentlessly on Luke’s head as he got out of his car and approached the front door. If not for the car sitting out front, Luke would have assumed the house was still vacant. There were certainly no signs of life and no indication that any work at all had been done to make the house look more inviting.

The wood on the house was weathered to a dull gray, and thick weeds choked the path that led to a dangerously sagging front porch.

Luke had received a call the day before from a Mrs. Abigail Graham, asking if he’d be interested in meeting her here first thing this morning to discuss some carpentry work she wanted done on the place.

He’d been surprised. First and foremost because he hadn’t heard any rumors that anyone had moved into the old Graham place, and usually the minute a stranger appeared in or around town, the gossipmongers went into action.

Luke had instantly agreed to meet with her, intrigued to see the interior of the place. After all, it wasn’t everyday you got to see the living environment of a space alien.

And he had to admit, he was equally intrigued to meet the woman who owned the smoky, deep voice that had called him the day before. That voice had instantly conjured up visions of a lush brunette or a sultry blonde and had reminded Luke that it had been far too long since he’d enjoyed the company of a pretty lady.

Of course, Abigail Graham was probably sixty years old and as crazy as her infamous relative, he thought as he stepped up on the front porch.

With his first step onto the wooden porch, it instantly became apparent how imminent repairs were needed. The wood was rotten, and a hole was just in front of the door, indicating that somebody’d had a foot go completely through the rotten wood.

He carefully maneuvered around the hole and knocked on the door. It was opened immediately. The woman who stood before him was certainly no sixty-year-old. With long dark hair cascading around her slim shoulders and framing her slender face, she was definitely on the right side of thirty.

“Abigail Graham?” Luke asked, noting that her eyes were the shade of spring…a soft, lovely green that shimmered like the sea in the bright sunshine.

However, one of those beautiful green eyes appeared slightly swollen, and a hint of a bruise peeked beneath makeup at the corner.

“Yes, and you must be Luke Delaney.”

He backed up as she stepped out and across the hole. “I’m assuming this is what you called me about?” he asked, gesturing to the porch.

She nodded. “I knew it was rather unstable but didn’t realize just how dangerous it was until my son’s foot went through it yesterday.”

That sexy voice of hers shot a new wave of pleasure through him. Looking at her certainly wasn’t difficult, either. Mrs. Abigail Graham, he reminded himself. A married woman sporting the hint of a black eye—and certainly none of his business.

“Was he hurt?” Luke asked, eyeing the hole.

“Thankfully no. His tennis shoe got scuffed and it scared him, but he wasn’t hurt.” She smiled, and Luke felt the jolt of that gorgeous smile deep in the pit of him, like that lick of heat he got when he took a swallow of good Scotch.

“Why don’t you come on inside and we can discuss the repair work,” she suggested. She stepped over the hole to the front door.

He followed her into the house and tried not to notice how sexy her shapely bottom looked in her tight jeans. The living room, although starkly furnished, was spotlessly clean and decorated in desert shades.

From someplace else in the house he could hear the sound of a television playing what sounded like cartoons.

She gestured him to the sofa, and he sat. “The man at the lumberyard said you were the best carpenter in town,” she explained. “He was the one who gave me your name and number.”

She perched on the edge of a chair facing the sofa. “So, what will it take to repair the porch?”

“I can’t repair it. It needs to come down altogether and a new one built.”

A frown creased her forehead, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. She had luscious full lips, and Luke wondered idly if they would be as soft and inviting as they looked.

“How much is all this going to cost?” she finally asked with a sigh.

Luke stood and pulled a measuring tape from his pocket. “Why don’t we go out and get some measurements, then I can give you an estimate.” He had a feeling he wasn’t going to make much profit on this job.

It was obvious that money was an issue. Anyone who chose to live in this ramshackle place had to have made the decision because they couldn’t afford anything better.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” She got up, hurried down the hallway and disappeared into the first doorway on the right.

Luke once again looked around the room. On second glance, he saw the work that needed to be done. Windowsills needed to be refinished or painted. The hardwood floor was scuffed and worn. But those things were cosmetic. The rotten porch was something different. She was lucky nobody had been seriously hurt on it.

She returned from the bedroom and they gingerly stepped out on the rotten porch. “This is a bad accident waiting to happen,” he said as they stepped off the porch. “If you have me build you a new one, would you want it to be the same size?”

He watched as she gazed at the porch thoughtfully. Lordy, but she was pretty. Her clear, creamy skin looked soft and touchable, and her dark hair was a perfect foil for her startling green eyes.

“It’s a pretty good size, isn’t it?” she said thoughtfully.

“Sure,” he agreed. “It’s big enough to hold a couple of chairs and a potted plant or two.”

“Then let’s keep the new one the same size.”

He nodded. “Let’s get the measurements.”

As she took the end of the tape measure from him, he smelled her fragrance, a soft whisper of something sweetly feminine and clean. It was probably a good thing the woman was married. Otherwise she would be a huge temptation, and Luke was trying not to walk the path of temptation.

“How long have you been here?” he asked as he gestured for her to go to the opposite side of the porch.

“We arrived on Tuesday and have spent the last couple of days having trash hauled off. Apparently my uncle was a bit of a pack rat.”

Luke made a mental note of the measurement, then motioned her to the side of the porch. “Arthur was your uncle? Nobody around here knew he had any relatives.”

“Actually, he was a great-uncle, but I never met him in person.”

“That’s all I need,” he said and hit the button on the tape measure to retract the tape. “He was a bit of a character, your great-uncle Arthur.”

Her cheeks flushed prettily as she met him at the base of the steps leading to the porch. “Poor Uncle Arthur. My father used to say he was a bolt whose nut was screwed on crooked.”

Luke laughed at the apt description of the old man. “He was certainly colorful,” he agreed. “He sometimes showed up in town with aluminum foil antennas wrapped around his head, said he was picking up signals from space.”

She winced, then gave another one of her pretty smiles. “Well, I hate to disappoint the town gossips, but I don’t intend to take up where Uncle Arthur left off,” she replied.

Luke grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of other odd people here in Inferno to keep the gossips busy.” He hated to think how often in the past he had kept the gossip mill busy.

“Where are you from?” he asked curiously.

“Uh…back east.”

He grinned. “Back east as in New York or back east as in East India?”

“Uh…Chicago. We’re from Chicago.”

Luke didn’t know exactly how he knew, but he was fairly certain she was lying. Her gaze didn’t quite meet his, and there was a hint of unnatural color to her cheeks that let him know she wasn’t being truthful. Again he reminded himself that the lovely lady was none of his business.

At that moment the front door opened. Two children stood in the doorway. The little boy looked to be about five or six, and the girl standing next to him appeared to be slightly younger. Both were dark-haired and dark-eyed, and each of them eyed Luke warily.

“Don’t come out here,” Abigail cautioned. “We’ve been using the back door since yesterday,” she explained to Luke.