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Seducing Hunter
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
Dear Reader
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Copyright
“What Do You Think Of The Sheriff’s Office?”
Hunter asked as he showed Gaylynn around.
“Tack a few girlie posters on the wall and it would look just like your old tree house.”
Hunter grinned at her tart comment. This was the Gaylynn he knew and loved.
Whoa there, he ordered his runaway thoughts.
Love? Where had that come from? Falling for Gaylynn would be like eating gunpowder—you know it’s going to detonate sooner or later.
But damn, she looked good in those jeans!
“Want to see my extra-heavy-duty handcuffs?” He tugged open the top drawer and dangled them in front of her.
“Can I use them on you?” she inquired.
Not trusting that fiendish gleam in her eye—was it caused by passion or anticipation of revenge for that gum in her hair all those years ago?—he heard himself promising, “Only if we’re in bed.”
“Cathie Linz’s fun and lively romances are guaranteed to win readers’ hearts! A shining star of the romance genre!”
—Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Dear Reader,
This month, we begin HOLIDAY HONEYMOONS, a wonderful new cross-line continuity series written by two of your favorites—Merline Lovelace and Carole Buck. The series begins in October with Merline’s Halloween Honeymoon. Then, once a month right through February, look for holiday love stories by Merline and Carole—in Desire for November, Intimate Moments for December, back to Desire in January and concluding in Intimate Moments for Valentine’s Day. Sound confusing? It’s not—we’ll keep you posted as the series continues.and I personally guarantee that these books are keepers!
And there are other goodies in store for you. Don’t miss the fun as Cathie Linz’s delightful series THREE WEDDINGS AND A GIFT continues with Seducing Hunter. And Lass Small’s MAN OF THE MONTH, The Texas Blue Norther, is simply scrumptious.
Those of you who want an ultrasensuous love story need look no further than The Sex Test by Patty Salier. She’s part of our WOMEN TO WATCH program highlighting brand-new writers. Warning: this book is HOT! Readers who can’t get enough of cowboys shouldn’t miss Anne Marie Winston’s Rancher’s Baby. And if you’re partial to a classic amnesia story (as I certainly am!), be sure to read Barbara McCauley’s delectable Midnight Bride. And, as always, I’m here to listen to you—so don’t be afraid to write and tell me your thoughts about Desire!
Until next month,
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Port Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Seducing Hunter
Cathie Linz
CATHIE LINZ
left her career in a university law library to become a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romances. She is the recipient of the highly coveted Storyteller of the Year Award given by Romantic Times, and was recently nominated for a Love and Laughter Career Achievement Award for the delightful humor in her books.
While Cathie often uses comic mishaps from her own trips as inspiration for her stories, she found the idea for this trilogy in her very own home—from an heirloom that has been in her family for generations. After traveling, Cathie is always glad to get back home to her family, her two cats, her trusty word processor and her hidden cache of Oreo cookies!
Special thanks to fellow crew members
Elainibonz and Ooopsie
for being at the other end of the modem
whenever I needed them!
One
“No!” Gaylynn Janos screamed. “No.don’t!”
Sitting straight up in bed, Gaylynn blinked away the tears and dragged in ragged lungfuls of air. Her breathing remained unsteady as she tried to shake off the shrouds of the vivid nightmare she’d just had—a nightmare that was based on reality. She’d lived it all again—the reflective shimmer of the switchblade, the stark terror.
“It’s okay,” she whispered to herself, the sound of her shaking voice penetrating the silence in the otherwise empty cabin. “You’re safe now.”
Still trembling, Gaylynn reached out to check the time on her travel alarm resting on the bedside table. It was three o’clock. The muted daylight sneaking through the crack in the drapes told her it was afternoon. She’d been so tired after the fourteen-hour drive from Chicago to North Carolina that she’d fallen asleep on the bed while still fully dressed.
It probably would have been smarter to have overnighted along the way, but once she’d made the decision to come to her big brother Michael’s secluded Blue Ridge Mountain cabin she hadn’t wanted to stop until she’d reached its comforting safety. She’d hoped to leave the nightmares behind.
“No such luck,” she muttered, scooting over to the edge of the bed and planting her feet firmly on the pine floor. The sound of her stomach growling reminded her of the fact that she’d gone to bed without eating.
She’d just finished making herself a quick salami sandwich from the food she’d brought with her when she caught sight of the cardboard carton Michael and his wife, Brett, had given her right before Gaylynn had left their wedding reception in Chicago the night before.
Balancing her lunch on top of the cardboard carton, Gaylynn carried everything outside to carefully plunk herself down on the large wooden rocking chair. Located on the sunny side of the covered front porch, the old-fashioned rocking chair was just begging for someone to occupy it. This was the kind of chair one could wile away the hours in, Gaylynn decided as she set aside the mystery package from her brother in favor of taking a bite out of her sandwich.
Spring came sooner this far south. At home the trees were still bare, but here they were proudly budding new leaves, creating a green tracery against the sky. A slight rustling in the underbrush got her attention. The noise was caused by a cat. A few seconds later two kittens skittered out. The feline family looked scared and hungry, very hungry.
Talking softly, Gaylynn removed some of the salami from her sandwich and, slowly going down the steps, offered it to the mama cat and her two kittens. Despite her careful movement, the animals were spooked and scurried back into the woods.
Gaylynn felt the sting of unexpected tears. She could empathize and how. She knew the feeling well. She was as spooked as those wild cats were. Scared to the bone. So frightened that the first thing you did was run, and ask questions later.
To her relief, she saw that the mother cat and her two kittens hadn’t gone far into the woods. They were warily peering out at her. Kneeling down, Gaylynn quickly shredded the salami into bite-size pieces for them before leaving the meat in a spot where the cats could see and smell it.
Moving back to the front porch, she was glad to see the feline family eventually dash out and gulp down the food. The little calico kitten was the runt, and barely got a bite or two. The mother was very thin and appeared to be a Siamese. The other kitten was cream colored.
Once the food was gone, they all dashed back into the safety of the woods. They clearly felt safer away from people. At the moment, Gaylynn felt exactly the same way.
Sitting in the rocking chair, she absently picked up the cardboard carton her brother had given her, claiming it held “a little something from the Old Country to bring you luck.”
Her big brother had never been one to believe in luck before, despite their shared Rom heritage. Her father, a Hungarian Rom, was another story, however. Konrad Janos had taught her many good-luck charms over the years. He’d even insisted she take his special rabbit’s foot with her for this trip.
Her father couldn’t know that there was no protection against the blind fear that welled up inside of Gaylynn. She hadn’t told either of her parents what had really happened to her the month before. She’d just said she’d needed some time off from teaching in the inner city in Chicago. Since they’d never really approved of her working in such a rough neighborhood to begin with, they’d been too relieved at her decision to question her reasons for leaving.
Despite the warm sunshine, Gaylynn shivered as the mental images insistently flashed through her mind, the same images that had haunted her nightmare—the switchblade, the terror, the suddenness of it all. She’d had no warning of danger. No premonition of what was coming.
Sure there had been trouble at the school before, but she’d been known for her determination and toughness. She’d never had anything bad happen to her. She was well-liked and respected by her students. Even so, she’d never been foolish. She knew the dangers and had taken steps to avoid trouble. Until that day.
She’d stayed late at school. She’d been alone. Her mind had been on the school talent show when she’d felt arms grabbing her as she walked out of her fourthgrade classroom into the deserted hallway. Then the knife had been at her throat. No chance to scream. No chance to protect herself. She’d felt helpless. It wasn’t a feeling she’d really ever experienced before. She’d always been the fearless one in her family.
Her assailant hadn’t been much taller than she was, and at a little over five feet, she was no giant. But he’d been incredibly strong—due no doubt to the drugs he was high on, drugs that had made him dangerously unpredictable, drugs that had turned a fourteen-yearold boy into a lethal stranger.
He’d wanted money. She’d given him what little she’d had. His hands shook. So had the long, shiny blade, pricking the smoothness of her skin and drawing blood. Gaylynn raised her hand to her throat, fingering the tiny scar that remained as she recalled the high-pitched desperation of his words.
Then it was over as suddenly as it had begun. He’d shoved her against the row of metal lockers and taken off. But for one brief moment she’d seen his face. Her assailant was Duane Washington. He’d been one of her students five years ago, one of the more promising ones. She’d had high hopes for him. Those were gone now. And so was he.
Twenty-four hours after she’d been held at knifepoint, Gaylynn had gone home and turned on the fiveo’clock news to see the grizzly footage, the cameraman zooming in on the blood still darkening the street while the News team anchor’s voice-over said, “The suspect, Duane Washington, was wanted by the police on a mugging charge. He was fleeing, avoiding arrest, when he ran right into the path of an oncoming bus. Witnesses say that he died instantly.” Another close-up, this time of a covered body being carried away. Duane’s body.
The images still haunted her nightmares. The knife. The blood on the street. Duane’s white-sheeted body.
Although the attack had happened almost a month ago, Gaylynn didn’t feel she was recovering the way she should. She was still at the mercy of her emotions-primarily guilt and fear. Perhaps she’d done the wrong thing in calling the police and identifying Duane as her attacker. If she hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t have been fleeing and wouldn’t have run right in front of that bus.
Then again, maybe if she’d been a better teacher, she would have seen signs much earlier that Duane was getting into trouble and she’d have been able to intervene before things had reached such a desperate point.
But there was no changing the past. The bottom line was that now Gaylynn, who had never feared traveling around the entire world on her own, was afraid to close her eyes in her own bed at night. She was paralyzed by fear—fear that she’d done the wrong thing, fear that she’d been in part to blame for Duane’s death, fear that she’d been unable to protect herself, fear that she was so vulnerable to attack, fear that she’d be attacked again.
The counselor she’d seen had told her she was suffering from post-traumatic stress. Gaylynn expected it to go away, like the flu did. But her symptoms had remained. Unable to teach as she once had, she’d left, taken a leave of absence.until she was “her old self” again, as her principal had jovially put it.
The trembling overcame her as it did whenever she thought too long about what had happened. The rocking chair moved forward and the cardboard box on her lap almost slid off. Grabbing it, she moved the package closer to her body.
“You’re safe now,” she whispered, as she had every day since the attack. She had yet to learn how to believe it.
Taking a few deep breaths, she shoved her dark thoughts aside and instead focused on undoing the cardboard flaps to finally see what her brother had packed for her. Inside she saw an intricately engraved metal box along with a letter in a spidery handwriting.
Oldest Janos son, It is time for you to know the secret of our family and bahtali—this is magic that is good. But powerful. I am sending to you this box telling you for the legend. I am getting old and have no time or language for story’s beginning, you must speak to parents for such. But know only this charmed box has powerful Rom magic to find love where you look for it. Use carefully and you will have much happiness. Use unwell and you will have trouble.
At the bottom of the letter was a yellow sticky note her brother had added. On it was written: “Thought you might find this interesting. Brett swears it worked in our case. Judge for yourself.”
It was “the box,” the one Gaylynn had heard so much about but had never seen before, the one Greataunt Magda in Hungary had sent Michael. Three weeks later, he’d married Brett.
Gaylynn clearly remembered the first time she’d heard about the love-charmed box. It had been right before Christmas when her father had told the family legend of a beautiful young Gypsy girl who’d fallen in love with a nobleman who did not return her feelings. Gaylynn had promptly dubbed him the “no-account count.”
The story was that the girl had paid to have a love spell cast on her behalf, but the old Gypsy woman who was in charge of such things had messed up the spell so that every second generation of Janos children would find love “where they looked for it”—which was taken literally! In remorse at her error, the old Gypsy had insisted the girl keep the engraved box she’d brought along, the only thing of value she had. Legend had it that the slightly out-of-whack love spell worked to this very day.
Leaning forward, Gaylynn tried to get a better look at the supposedly magical box—only to have the rocking chair shift forward, thereby tilting the box so that the lid opened.
Knowing the family legend that you’d find love with the first person of the opposite sex you saw after opening the box, Gaylynn automatically looked up-to see an old man dressed as a bum shuffling along the edge of the woods that surrounded the cabin.
Startled, she stood. The man disappeared back into the woods and the box lid flipped shut again.
“Great,” she muttered. “When Michael looks up he sees beautiful Brett. When I look up I see a derelict moonshiner! Maybe this box is a curse instead of good magic.” Having said that, Gaylynn carefully returned the box and the letter to the cardboard container. As she closed the cardboard flaps, she couldn’t help wishing she could bundle up her own ragged emotions just as easily.
By that evening, Gaylynn had already named the family of stray cats. The mama was Cleo, short for Cleopatra. The cream-colored kitten turned out to be a cream-colored Siamese, complete with crossed eyes in a vivid blue color. She was dubbed Blue. The little calico kitten had the temporary nickname of Spook.
Gaylynn wandered down to the edge of the woods and fed them all the salami she had in the house, as well as a sampling of other fare—cheese crackers, skim milk, a can of tuna. Tomorrow she’d have to get some dried cat food from the little gas station/food store at the base of the mountain. And some more food for herself.
Looking up, she only now realized that night had fallen while she’d been engrossed with the feline family. Not long ago, she’d enjoyed darkness. Now the woods that had seemed so peaceful became ominous, with the stark shapes of the foliage and trees taking on the outline of someone ready to strike.
Gaylynn jumped to her feet, her sudden movement scaring away little cross-eyed Blue, the only one who’d let her get within a foot. Now the kitten bolted, bringing tears to Gaylynn’s eyes. Damn, she’d never been the weepy type before. She hadn’t even cried when she’d broken her arm in two places at fourteen.
Biting her bottom lip to keep her unruly emotions at bay, Gaylynn quickly made her way back toward the cabin. Halfway there, a floodlight flickered on, illuminating her way. She remembered Michael telling her he’d installed a light-activated light.
She’d no sooner gotten inside the cabin when the sound of gravel crunching in the stillness of the night made her freeze in her tracks. Someone was outside!
Gaylynn couldn’t help it. Fear washed over her.
The twin beams of a car’s headlights pierced the shadowy darkness of the living room. The cabin was far enough off the beaten track to ensure that no one would just be passing by. That was one of the reasons Gaylynn liked it so much. Perched on the top of a hillside, it was just her, the kitties and the other wildlife, none of it human—other than the brief glimpse of that old moonshiner.
She was not expecting company. Only her family knew she was here. Yet a car was definitely making its way up the long and narrow gravel driveway—a driveway that was private and so secluded no one could stumble upon it by accident.
Silently thanking her brother’s foresight in installing the large floodlight on the outside corner of the cabin, Gaylynn tiptoed to the front door and peeked out the curtained window. The driveway was brightly lit. There was a car all right. A dark-colored sedan. She didn’t recognize it.
The car door opened and she saw a man step out. The floodlight shone down on his head. He had dark hair. As he turned toward the cabin she saw his face clearly for the first time.
An instant later, her fear was replaced by anger. Yanking the door open, Gaylynn confronted the man climbing the wooden steps leading up to the front porch.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Now is that any way to greet an old friend?” Hunter Davis returned with a slow smile.
Two
Gaylynn hadn’t seen Hunter Davis in ten years, but in many ways it was as if she’d only seen him yesterday. His dark hair was longer than she remembered and had a touch of silver at the temples. His deep-set eyes were exactly as she remembered, a vivid shade of green—the color of backlit spring leaves.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Red?” he drawled.
She’d hated the nickname as a kid, and she intensely disliked it now. Hunter had given her the nickname when, as an awestruck thirteen-year-old, Gaylynn had used henna on her hair to impress the “only man in the universe” for her. Hunter hadn’t known that he was that man. He’d been eighteen, five years older than her. In her idolizing eyes, he’d seemed like the perfect man.
Seeing Hunter now, she realized how wrong she’d been. Now he was a man. Not perfect perhaps, but definitely rather awesome. The years had honed him to a sharp edge, as was illustrated by the fine lines at the outer edge of his green eyes. His level brows intensified his elemental attractiveness. His face was too powerful to be handsome, yet it held a woman’s attention longer than any surface good looks would.
When, at age thirteen, Gaylynn’s plain brown hair had turned a vivid red as a result of her henna experiment, Hunter had started calling her Red. She’d tagged after him and her brother, anyway. She’d fallen in love—with capital letters and all the fervor of a teenager.
And when Hunter had gotten married at twenty-five, she’d shed a tear or two. It was the last time she’d cried. Until last month.
“What are you doing here, Hunter?” she asked.
Instead of answering, he eyed her with a frown. “What’s-wrong?” he said bluntly. “You look awful.”
Her cheeks burned. She knew her clothes were rumpled, and her jeans had dirt marks at the knees where she’d bent down to feed the stray cats. She’d planned on taking a shower after she’d eaten her late lunch, but had gotten distracted. Her hair hadn’t been brushed in hours and probably had a twig or two sticking out of it from her exploratory walk along the edge of the woods. “I wasn’t expecting company right now. Go away,” she muttered with self-conscious irritability, trying to move him toward the front door.” Come back later.”
She might as well have tried to move Mount McKinley. “I’m not going anyplace until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m on vacation, okay? This is the way I look when I’m on vacation. If you don’t like it you can leave!” Her famous Hungarian temper flared as she stomped off to the bathroom and slammed the door. Looking in the mirror, she saw that he was right. She did look awful. After washing her face and brushing her hair, she put on some lipstick before opening the door.
Of course, Hunter was waiting right outside, just as she’d known he would.
“There, is that better?” she asked, complete with a mocking pirouette.
“I wasn’t talking about your hair. I was talking about your eyes.”
“I didn’t get a lot of sleep…”
“That’s not it,” he interrupted her. Taking her chin between his fingers, he tilted her face up. “There’s something about the expression in your eyes.”
She closed them. Tight. But that only made the feel of his warm fingers on her skin all the more powerful. In an instant it was as if she were thirteen and in the throes of her ardent crush on him all over again. Her world became centered on the point of contact between them. Heat traveled from his fingertips to her skin, racing to her heart. Her senses were in a turmoil as he practiced his black magic on her with nothing more than the merest brush of his hand.
Disconcerted, she snapped her eyes open and stepped back from. him. “Did Michael send you over here to check up on me?”
“He told me you were coming.”
“I’ll shoot him.”
“Now hold on.”
She wanted to hold on, all right. She wanted to hold on to Hunter’s broad shoulders, wrap her arms around him and never let go. Great. This was not the time for her to remember the stupid crush she’d had on him. This was the time to get rid of him. Before she said or did something foolish.
“I’m fine. You don’t have to waste any more time checking up on your friend’s nuisance sister.”
“You’re not a nuisance.”
