A Kept Woman

“Make Me Stop,” He Said. “Tell Me This Is Wrong.”

Natalie froze. “I can’t.” She wanted to caress his face, to follow the angles and hard lines, to shape them with her hands. But she couldn’t seem to summon the courage.

“Say it,” he beckoned.

Silent, she remained where she was, her body flooded with warmth. She needed him, and she couldn’t bear to let go, to lose the connection. He closed his eyes. With a quaking hand, she pressed her palm to his chest and felt the erratic beats.

When he opened his eyes, she took her hand away. A minute passed. Or mabe it was a second. For Natalie, time stood still.

“I can’t,” she said again. “I can’t tell you it’s wrong.”

“Then I’m taking you.” Zack’s voice turned rough. “I’m taking all of you.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to another passionate month at Silhouette Desire. A Scandal Between the Sheets is breaking out as Brenda Jackson pens the next tale in the scintillating DYNASTIES: THE DANFORTHS series. We all love the melodrama and mayhem that surrounds this Southern family—how about you?

The superb Beverly Barton stops by Silhouette Desire with an extra wonderful title in her bestselling series THE PROTECTORS. Keeping Baby Secret will keep you on the edge of your seat—and curl your toes all at the same time. What would you do if you had to change your name and your entire history? Sheri WhiteFeather tackles that compelling question when her heroine is forced to enter the witness protection program in A Kept Woman. Seems she was a kept woman of another sort, as well…so be sure to pick up this fabulous read if you want the juicy details.

Kristi Gold has written the final, fabulous installment of THE TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE STOLEN BABY series with Fit for a Sheikh. (But don’t worry, we promise those sexy cattlemen with be back.) And rounding out the month are two wonderful stories filled with an extra dose of passion: Linda Conrad’s dramatic Slow Dancing With A Texan and Emilie Rose’s suppercharged A Passionate Proposal.

Enjoy all we have to offer this month—and every month—at Silhouette Desire.

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

A Kept Woman

Sheri Whitefeather

SHERI WHITEFEATHER

lives in Southern California and enjoys ethnic dining, attending powwows and visiting art galleries and vintage clothing stores near the beach. Since her one true passion is writing, she is thrilled to be a part of the Silhouette Desire line. When she isn’t writing, she often reads until the wee hours of the morning.

Sheri’s husband, a member of the Muscogee Creek Nation, inspires many of her stories. They have a son, a daughter and a trio of cats—domestic and wild. She loves to hear from her readers. You may write to her at: P.O. Box 17146, Anaheim, California 92817. Visit her Web site at www.SheriWhiteFeather.com.

To my readers:

Many of you have commented that you enjoy stories

that push the envelope, and A Kept Woman

is no exception. I was particularly fascinated by the

early days of WITSEC (the witness protection program)

and decided to combine some of the early security

methods with the modern program. A Kept Woman

is my interpretation of a security field inspector toppling

into a forbidden, heart-bound affair with a witness.

This story blends fact, fiction and creative liberties and

does not necessarily represent the inner workings

of this highly effective and controversial program.

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

Epilogue

One

Natalie Pascal was nervous. Deputy U.S. Marshal Zack Ryder sensed it from the moment he saw her. As a WITSEC field inspector, he’d encountered plenty of edgy witnesses, and this stunning blonde was no exception. Scanning the passengers filtering into the baggage claim area, he moved forward to make his presence known, to greet the woman he’d been assigned to relocate.

“Natalie.” He said her name and she looked up and caught his gaze. For a moment, they just stood in the midst of a bustling airport, staring at each other. Like strangers, he thought, whose lives were about to collide.

“So you’re him,” she said.

He nodded. “Yep. I’m him. Zack Ryder.” Her field inspector, the deputy marshal who would help Nancy Perris adjust to her new identity, to becoming Natalie Pascal.

She didn’t extend her hand and he didn’t offer his. He figured she wasn’t keen on shaking hands with a lawman, on being too friendly. He’d seen old photographs of her; he knew her history. Prior to her acceptance into the Witness Security Program, she’d been a hot-as-sin, buxom brunette, as well as the girlfriend of a Los Angeles mobster.

These days, she was a reed-thin blonde, with stylishly cropped hair and tinted contacts. The golden-brown color made her eyes seem cougarlike, but he supposed the smoky black liner enhanced the effect, too. Tall and chic, she wore an elegant pantsuit, tailored to fit her slim form.

Zack motioned to the luggage turntable. “Let me know when you see your bags.”

She shifted her purse, adjusting the strap on her shoulder. “There’s only one.”

He didn’t comment. He already knew she was traveling light. WITSEC would deliver the rest of her belongings, what little there was. Natalie had liquidated just about everything she owned, everything her mobster boyfriend had given her. “So,” he said, reverting to small talk. “How was your flight?”

She glanced away, making him aware of her discomfort. Arriving in an unfamiliar city to meet an unfamiliar man couldn’t be easy. But it beat the hell out of the alternative, he thought. Natalie had agreed to testify against her former lover. And if the mob found her, they would kill her. Her old boyfriend wasn’t an underling. He was David Halloway, the new boss of the West Coast Family.

Finally, she shifted her gaze back to his, and when she did, they stared at each other again. “My flight was fine. Just fine,” she added in a cracked whisper, in a voice so low he could barely hear it.

Because he got the crazy notion to touch her, he broke eye contact. Was she for real? Or was she playing head games? He’d expected her to be a revamped gun moll, but he hadn’t predicted the delicate edge of vulnerability.

Zack remained silent. He was pretty good at idle chitchat. But at the moment, communicating with this woman eluded him.

“That one is mine,” she said suddenly.

“What?”

She motioned to a suitcase on the turntable. “The one with the gold ribbon.”

“Got it.” A bit terse, he reached for the bag. Over the years, he’d learned not to trust too deeply, not to allow the criminals-turned-witnesses to con him, not to BS their way into his good graces. He wasn’t about to get compromised, especially by a mistress.

He turned to face her, and she took a step back, confusing him even more. “Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and he guided her to the parking lot. It was his job to protect her, to give her a chance to start a new life. And Zack was damn good at his job.

Silent, Natalie walked beside him. Her strides weren’t as long as his, but they were close. She moved like a runway model, like a lean, lithe, sexual creature—a woman who’d gotten by on her looks.

They reached his black sedan and he popped the trunk and stowed her bag. When he opened the passenger door for her, she gave him a hesitant look. Did she think he had a trick up his sleeve because he was behaving like a gentleman?

He climbed behind the wheel, and she buckled her seat belt and gazed out the windshield. He reached for his cigarettes and shook one from the pack. Igniting the tip, he inhaled a gust of nicotine and tobacco, a habit he had no intention of breaking. At forty, he was more than set in his ways.

Squinting through a haze of smoke, Zack backed out of the parking stall, wishing Natalie didn’t rub him the wrong way. He’d relocated criminals, as well as innocent people. Husbands, wives, children. Families who’d sacrificed their safety to do the right thing. He wasn’t sure where Natalie Pascal fit in. For the first time in his career, a witness had managed to baffle him.

He slid her a sideways glance, and she pushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She placed her hands on her lap. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“This is a monumental change. Different from what you’re used to.”

“I can handle it.”

Could she? he wondered. She’d been a kept woman for most of her adult life and, at twenty-nine, that left her out of the mainstream loop. “It’s okay to be scared.”

She barely blinked. “Scared? About relocating to Idaho? I’m looking forward to living in Coeur d’Alene. I’ve heard it’s a nice place.”

“Yes, it is.” But he wasn’t buying her I’m-in-control facade. Although WITSEC had provided her with psychological counseling to prepare her for the move, she was still anxious, he thought. Restless about her future, afraid the West Coast Family would find her.

“WITSEC showed me a videotape of Coeur d’Alene,” she said.

“I know,” he responded, wondering why she’d agreed to testify against her former lover. Revenge? Fear? With Natalie, he couldn’t be sure.

What kind of woman would sleep with a mobster? A married mobster, no less. Her affair with David Halloway shouldn’t matter, but the idea twisted Zack’s gut, reminding him of the day he’d caught his ex-wife in bed with another man.

When his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, he eased his grip. In a roundabout way, his wife had blamed him for her infidelity, claiming his job had interfered with their marriage. But that was a load of bull. In Zack’s mind, cheating was cheating. He wasn’t about to take responsibility for something that wasn’t his fault.

Natalie stared straight ahead, watching the bumper of the car in front of them. For the past thirty minutes, the ride had been quiet, the conversation stilted.

Why did Zack Ryder have to remind her of David? They didn’t look anything alike, but the deputy marshal was big and tough and brimming with power. He possessed a domineering presence, just like David. The man she’d loved. The man who’d destroyed her.

She shifted in her seat, then turned to study Zack’s profile. His neatly trimmed hair was a deep, dark shade of brown, and his temples and sideburns bore faint threads of gray. He was handsome, in a hard, imposing sort of way. She knew WITSEC inspectors were highly trained security specialists, but Zack made her nervous. Then again, this whole experience made her nervous.

The trial was still a ways off, but the Marshal Service had promised to provide around-the-clock protection when she returned to L.A. to testify. Of course, this was different. Zack wouldn’t be with her twenty-four hours a day. Natalie wasn’t in a “danger area.” She was on highway 90, heading for Coeur d’Alene.

WITSEC had gone to great lengths to establish her new identity, to alter her appearance, to help Nancy Perris disappear. They’d kept her in a secure location until they felt it was safe to put her on a plane and send her to Idaho. To meet Zack Ryder.

He glanced over at her and for one pulse-jarring second, she froze. When he turned back to the road, she let out the breath she’d been holding.

In spite of the help she’d been getting from the Marshal Service, Natalie wasn’t comfortable around lawmen. The good-cop bad-cop thing set her on edge. She could never tell who was who.

“We’re almost there,” Zack said.

“We are?” She opened her purse, prepared to reapply her lipstick, then realized what she was doing. Fumbling with her bag, she cursed her stupidity. David had encouraged her to primp, to make sure she looked perfect every time she appeared in public. It was a habit she couldn’t seem to break. Her fingers itched to secure her compact, but she closed her purse instead. She wasn’t about to flip open her mirror and gloss up her lips in front of Zack.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Still stressing over her compact, she looked up. “What?”

“Do you want to eat?”

She shook her head. Food was the furthest thing from her mind.

He gave her a quick study. “I’ll bet you refused the meal on your plane, too.”

Natalie didn’t respond. She’d been told that her field inspector would play a definitive role in her relocation, that his commitment to her would be on a long-term basis. Yet she couldn’t imagine sharing her emotions with this man. She wasn’t about to admit that she’d awakened this morning, fresh from a nightmare and battling a stomachache.

He exited the highway and headed into town. Curious, she peered out the window. The sidewalks of Coeur d’Alene were busy, the shops quaint and inviting. She liked the idea of living in a resort community, but her quest for independence wasn’t nearly as liberating as she’d hoped it would be. The newness made her feel like a knobby-kneed kid on the first day of school.

As Zack turned onto another street and pulled into a parking lot, she noticed the sandwich shop. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Getting us some lunch.”

“Us?”

“Yes, us. We’re both going to eat. I’m not going to let you waste away. Not on my watch.”

Because his concern seemed genuine, she fought a wave of confusion. He was big and strong, and a part of her wanted to cling to him. But she’d made that mistake with David. No matter how lonely she was, no matter how much she longed for a friend, she wouldn’t allow herself to need another man. Not even her field inspector.

“You don’t have to fuss over me,” she told him.

“Good grief, woman. It’s just a sandwich.”

No, she thought. It was more than that. So much more.

Zack got out of the car, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He disappeared into the eatery, and she recalled the first meal David had bought her. She’d been a love-starved teenager living on the streets, seduced by the comfort of one simple lunch.

Zack returned a short while later. He put the sodas he’d purchased in the cup holder between their seats and handed her the bag. “You can have your pick. Ham and cheese or roast beef and avocado.”

When their gazes locked, she realized her stomachache was gone. In its place was a warm little flutter. God help her, she thought. She was attracted to him.

Stunned by the sexual pull, she glanced at his left hand. She didn’t see a ring, but that didn’t mean anything. David hadn’t worn a ring, either. In the beginning, she hadn’t known her lover was married.

“Ham and cheese is fine,” she said, guilt clouding her mind. She’d left David when she’d learned the truth, but it hadn’t taken long for him to convince her to return to him, to be his mistress. And that shamed her most of all.

Zack started the car, and she realized he was taking her to her new home. She’d been told that he would rent her a place, a temporary dwelling until she could find a house of her own.

Natalie kept the sandwich bag on her lap, crinkling a corner of the paper. The rustling sound was better than silence, she decided. Better than the strange energy between her and Zack.

He headed toward the lake, and she rolled down the window to breathe in a gust of fresh air. She could see a glimpse of the water, sparkling in the distance. A body of blue, she thought. As tranquil as a tourist’s dream, as active as a child’s imagination.

Her view of the lake disappeared when he turned onto a tree-lined street. Natalie had never lived in an area like this. She’d been welfare poor; she’d been mistress rich. But she’d never fit into the white-picket-fence world.

He guided the car down a long driveway and stopped at a cozy guest house. Her heart bumped her chest. The windows were trimmed in yellow and the lawn was freshly mowed.

“Is this mine? I expected an apartment.”

He parked his sedan and cut the engine. “It rents by the month, so it didn’t require a lease. The owners live up front. They’re a young family. They seem like nice folks.”

“What did you tell them about me?”

“That you’re a friend of mine who plans to open a boutique in Coeur d’Alene.”

That was close to the truth, she thought. Except for the friend part. “Did you mention that you’re a deputy?”

“Yes, but no one outside the Marshal Service knows I’m with WITSEC. As far as your landlords are concerned, I’m just a local deputy.”

Natalie fell silent. It was obvious his badge had closed the deal. Who wouldn’t trust a federal lawman?

When he exited the car, she followed suit, carrying the sandwich bag. He turned to look at her, and when that little flutter returned to her stomach, she struggled to temper it.

The June air was warm, and a mild breeze blew. Zack stood tall and dark in a black jacket and matching trousers. The sun had bronzed his skin and his eyes were marked with tiny lines. Frown lines, she thought. He shifted their sodas, then handed her one, searching his pockets for the keys to her new home. She wondered if he’d been raised in this area. Maybe he was a member of the Coeur d’Alene Indian tribe. Zack looked as if he might be part Native American.

Finally, he located the keys and unlocked the front door. She stepped inside and tried to contain her excitement. The living room presented a stone hearth, and the kitchen had French doors that led to a barbecue deck. Already she loved it.

“There isn’t much here by the way of furnishings,” he said. “I got you a bed and a dresser. And a dining room table. Just a few things to help you get by. You can pick out whatever else you need.”

“Thank you.” When their eyes met, an indefinable moment passed between them. Heat? Hunger? A stream of tenderness? Natalie couldn’t tell.

“But just remember that you’re on a budget,” he added. “WITSEC will foot the bill for your furniture, but they aren’t going to provide the fancy-ass stuff Halloway used to buy for you.”

She tried not to flinch. “Excuse me?”

“Excuse you for what? Being spoiled? Don’t worry, you’ll get over it.”

Natalie’s heart fell. Yes, she had slept with a married man. And yes, she was guilty, shamed to the bone. But wasn’t it enough that David’s wife vowed to see her dead? Did she have to be judged by a U.S. marshal, as well? Summoning the strength to defy him, she held his gaze. “At least I have enough money to start a business.”

“By selling off everything lover-boy gave you? That’s not the same as earning it.”

She held her ground. “I’m sure it’s more than you have.”

He didn’t back down. “I’ve made some investments.”

She pushed the issue. “I probably still have more than you.”

“Maybe, but I’m not a hot-looking blonde.” He shrugged, then made a silly joke, turning the tide with his offbeat humor. “Can you imagine some mobster putting me up in a condo? Dressing me in sexy lingerie?”

She rolled her eyes, and he laughed.

“You’re a jerk, Deputy. And you’re not funny.”

He grinned at her. “Then how come you’re fighting a smile?”

Because I’m an idiot, she thought. And she’d been charmed by jerks before. Refusing to break down and smile, she grabbed her drink and sucked on the straw.

“So what do you think of this place?” he asked.

Feigning indifference, she swallowed the soda. “It’s okay.”

“Just okay? I thought it was perfect for a single woman. It even has one of those glamour bathrooms. Big sunken tub, lights around the mirror.” He took the sandwiches from her and placed them on the dining room table. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

She accepted the tour, but she kept her distance, making sure their hands didn’t accidentally touch or their shoulders didn’t brush when she squeezed past him in the hallway.

The curtains in the bedroom matched the carpet, and the brass bed he’d provided was made up with a fluffy white quilt and lacy pillows. She shot him a curious glance.

He defended his choice. “What the hell do I know? It seemed like something a woman would like. Besides, it was on sale.”

She thought the bed was pretty, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Where do you live?” she asked, wondering what sort of furnishings he favored.

“I commute between a cabin in the mountains and a house in the city.”

But he wasn’t going to tell her what mountain range or what city, she realized. He knew everything about her, but she wasn’t privy to personal information about him.

“You have my pager number, don’t you?” he asked suddenly.

Natalie nodded. WITSEC had provided it.

“It’s a satellite pager,” he said. “I won’t miss your calls.” He moved toward the dresser, where a telephone sat. “I left a list of local numbers, too. Fire, police. But if you think you’re in danger, call the one at the top. That’ll bring a squad of marshals to your door.”

Her pulse jumped to her throat. She hoped and prayed that she would never have to use that number, but she knew the possibility existed.

As Zack continued the tour, she followed, trying to keep her fear in check. In a fit of anger, David had killed one of his associates, then forced her to help him clean up the mess. The blood, the—

“Check out the bathroom.”

She blinked. “What?”

“The bathroom.”

She peered around his shoulder, and he moved out of the way. The tile-lined tub, she noticed, was big enough for two, and a floral-print curtain shielded a separate shower stall.

Speaking of flowers. An artistic bouquet decorated the sink. Pink, purple and red blooms flourished in an elegant glass vase. “Are these from my landlords?”

“No.”

“Then who ordered them?”

“I did.”

Stunned, she merely stared at him. “You?” The man who’d criticized her character? “Are flowers a standard WITSEC procedure?”

“No, but I thought they would brighten up the place.”

“Thank you.” Up until now, she’d been living in a safe-site center, where the doors were electronically bolted and hallways were monitored with security cameras and motion detectors. It hadn’t felt like home.

He finished showing her around and suggested they eat lunch. She sat across from him at the table, confused by his ever changing moods. He seemed judgmental one minute and compassionate the next.

He unwrapped the roast beef sandwich. “I made sure the kitchen was pretty well stocked. Dishes, pots, pans, silverware.” He motioned behind him. “The fridge came with the place. We can go to the market later if you want.”

She picked the onions out of her sandwich. “We?”

“You don’t have a car yet. Who else is supposed to take you shopping?”

Who indeed? Zack Ryder was her only contact in Coeur d’Alene. But that didn’t mean she had to make herself vulnerable to him, she thought. So he’d bought her flowers. So what? It was his job to help witnesses adjust to their new surroundings.

“When can I meet my landlords?” she asked.

“Next week. They’re on vacation right now.”

“What are their names?”

“Steve and Carla. He’s an accountant, and she runs after the kids. A couple of towheaded boys.” Zack chuckled. “From what I gathered, they keep her pretty busy.”