Shadows Of The Past

Maria turned in the direction of the rough-toned male voice and almost replied, “You. I’m looking for you. I have been all of my life.”

In a near daze, she dragged her eyes from his lopsided grin. She’d never thought to meet a man who could actually make her heart jump into her throat. But to happen tonight of all nights! Swallowing her instincts to flee, she answered, “Randy Searle. Is he here?”

Head cocked to one side, he gave her a once-over that was almost insolent in its laziness. “Too bad,” he drawled. “I’d hoped you were looking for me.”

“Is—is he here?” she stuttered, watching the only guy ever to make her mind crash come closer, moving with all the lethal grace of a male confident of his own attractions.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another month of excitement and romance. Start your reading by letting Ruth Langan be your guide to DEVIL’S COVE in Cover-Up, the first title in her new miniseries set in a small town where secrets, scandal and seduction go hand in hand. The next three books will be coming out back to back, so be sure to catch every one of them.

Virginia Kantra tells a tale of Guilty Secrets as opposites Joe Reilly, a cynical reporter, and Nell Dolan, a softhearted do-gooder, can’t help but attract each other—with wonderfully romantic results. Jenna Mills will send Shock Waves through you as psychic Brenna Scott tries to convince federal prosecutor Ethan Carrington that he’s in danger. If she can’t get him to listen to her, his life—and her heart—will be lost.

Finish the month with a trip to the lands down under, Australia and New Zealand, as three of your favorite writers mix romance and suspense in equal—and irresistible—portions. Melissa James features another of her tough (and wonderful!) Nighthawk heroes in Dangerous Illusion, while Frances Housden’s heroine has to face down the Shadows of the Past in order to find her happily-ever-after. Finally, get set for high-seas adventure as Sienna Rivers meets Her Passionate Protector in Laurey Bright’s latest.

Don’t miss a single one—and be sure to come back next month for more of the best and most exciting romantic reading around, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Editor

Shadows of the Past

Frances Housden

FRANCES HOUSDEN

has always been a voracious reader, but she never thought of being a writer until a teacher gave her the encouragement she needed to put pen to paper. As a result, Frances was a finalist in the 1998 Clendon Award and won the award in 1999, which led to the sale of her first book for Silhouette, The Man for Maggie.

Frances’s marriage to a navy man took her from her birthplace in Scotland all the way to the ends of the earth in New Zealand. Now that he’s a landlubber, they try to do most of their traveling together. They live on a ten-acre bush block in the heart of Auckland’s Wine District. She has two large sons, two small grandsons and a tiny granddaughter who can twist her around her finger, as well as a wheaten terrier who thinks she’s boss. Thanks to one teacher’s dedication, Frances now gets to write about the kind of heroes a woman would travel to the ends of the earth for. Frances loves to hear from readers. Write to her at P.O. Box 18-240, Glenn Innes, Auckland 1130, New Zealand.

I’d like to dedicate this book with love to my mother, Annie Gibb, as well as the late Frank Gibb, my father, and to his father, John Gibb, who used to make up stories just for me. And to thank Barbara and Peter Clendon, who sponsor The Clendon Award, aka Finish the Damn Book. The win sent my work to the right place to get published.

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 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

“Vanity, thy name is woman,” Maria Costello told herself, even as she snapped the clasp of her evening purse closed over her glasses and ditched the last particle of her normal librarian look. If there was one thing she didn’t need tonight it was anything that smacked of timidity.

No, if she was to face up to her bête noire, then she had to look as if all the power was in her hands, whether it was true or not. She took a deep breath, tilting her chin, and stared after the lights of her departing cab. Without her glasses they were just two fuzzy red balls zooming into the deep blue of a New Zealand summer twilight.

On any other day, the soles of her feet would have itched to dance to the music pouring out of the early New Zealand colonial edifice that housed the Point restaurant, but tonight nothing could distract her. Not even the song rocking off the overhanging verandas that sheltered sidewalk diners. Tonight the tables were empty. All the action was taking place inside at the party she intended gate-crashing.

Of course, if Mamma knew what she was about to do, she would think Maria’s sense of proportion had gone haywire. An opinion that would be voiced in a mixture of English and Italian, the exact mix dependent on the level of her excitement.

Somehow, Maria was positive tonight it would be Italian all the way. One look and Mamma would know she’d gone over the top with her plum-colored dress. Its nunlike high neckline and long sleeves fooled everyone until she turned around.

She’d needed a confidence boost and this was the first time since buying the dress she’d hauled it out of the wardrobe and worn it outside her bedroom.

All her best glamour products, and for what? For the sake of turning the tables on the man she believed was stalking her.

Some people might think she was taking a gamble denouncing him with no more proof than he’d been the only person she’d recognized when the sensation prickled up her neck. But it hadn’t started until just after she’d been called to reception at Tech-Re-Search and Randy Searle had handed her some documents from Stanhope Electronics. Nearly every time she turned around quickly, she’d caught him dodging out of sight.

She shuddered, switching her thoughts back to her mother before fear could sneak in a low blow and turn her away from her goal.

The way Maria looked at it, in this life you either had to laugh or cry and she was done crying and ready to do battle.

Clenching her back teeth so hard it hurt she walked into the pool of light spilling from the restaurant door. The happening inside was the Christmas party of Stanhope Electronics, the firm that employed Randy Searle. She’d convinced herself that by confronting him face-to-face, even if he tried to bluster his way out of it, people would know, and in future he’d leave her alone.

Her shoulder-length hair, caught up in butterfly clips, tugged as her scalp prickled, the way it did when she felt him around.

Watching.

No! No more letting her mind take that track.

One more indrawn breath, one more step, and she crossed the threshold into a world of pure sound.

A quick sidestep helped avoid a collision with the couple leaving. Laughing over their shoulders, they waved goodbye, calling out, “See you next year.”

At the last moment they noticed her. “Oops, sorry.” The tall blonde’s blue-eyed gaze held hers with the soft bleariness of someone who’d had just enough to drink.

“No harm done,” said Maria, standing to the side to let them exit, hoping the smile on her face hid her apprehension.

The male half of the couple endowed her with a sloppy grin, and just when she thought she was safe, shouted, “Hey, Franc, hang about, we’ve got a live one here.”

A live one? What kind of party was this?

As she hesitated, he said, “Go right on in. Better late than never, it’s one hell of a party.”

His blond companion tugged at his sleeve, snagging his attention. “And it can only get better.”

A look passed between the two. A look of naked need and desire that pinched at Maria as she watched him practically carry the blonde down to the street in their haste to be alone.

Distracted, she wondered what it felt like to want someone so badly you didn’t care who knew.

Mentally reproving herself to get back to the task at hand, she let her eyes adjust to the soft glare of candles reflected in the old-fashioned white-and-black tiles that had first adorned the walls when it was a butcher’s shop.

“Looking for someone?”

Maria turned in the direction of the rough-honed male voice and almost replied, “You. I’m looking for you. I have been all of my life.”

Uh-oh, was her mouth gaping? She shut it with a snap. In a near daze, she dragged her eyes from the guy’s lopsided grin. A grin she’d thought exclusive to her favorite movie hero. Now she knew better. And for worse.

It was as if someone had played a sick joke on her. She’d never thought to meet a man who could actually make her heart jump into her throat. Truth be known, she’d hadn’t been sure if she wanted to. But to happen tonight of all nights! Swallowing her instincts to flee, she answered, “Randy. Randy Searle, is he still here?”

Head cocked to the side, he gave her a once-over that was almost insolent in its laziness. “Too bad,” he drawled. “I’d hoped you were looking for me.”

Her hands fisted tightly round the strap of her purse until her nails dug into her palm. Real life intruded on her fairy-tale moment and let loose the beast to steal her peace of mind. Hopefully a crowded place would keep her safe.

“Am I too late?”

He turned his wrist to check. Dark hairs showed above a gold watch where the cuffs of his white silk shirt folded back. “Not that late, nine-thirty.”

“Is…is he still here?” she stuttered, watching the only guy to ever make her mind crash come closer, moving with all the lethal grace of a male confident of his own attractions.

His glance caught hers. Brown like her own, but more intense in color—bitter chocolate—his eyes held hers until she forced herself to look away.

Franc had never seen eyes quite that color before, never been one to play favorites, but then…times change. Dark brown washed with violet, they were almost the color of her dress.

And if her eyes had stolen his breath, her mouth stopped his heart, the full top and bottom lips pouted naturally as if shaped by a kiss. Immediately the thought my kiss was born. A tiny black mole enhanced the top right-hand corner and definitely required closer investigation.

“Randy?” he replied slowly, snatching time to think of something other than how her mouth would taste, and stop him cursing that Randy had supped there first.

“Do you know him?”

“Sure. Just give me a minute to think where I last saw him.” Which would make at least two minutes since he’d watched her halt in the doorway. One glimpse had sent him hurrying between the tables lining the miniature dance floor, praying she wasn’t a trick of his imagination, brought about by a period of abstinence that had ceased to bother him, until now.

“Hmm, maybe he went upstairs, there are a couple of quieter rooms up there by the bar…” His words trailed off as he realized he had seen Randy heading in that direction, but he hadn’t been alone. Kathy Gilbertson from the experimental electronics lab had been with him, and Franc wouldn’t have laid bets on which of them was in the most hurry to reach the scattering of sofas in the secluded upstairs bar.

“Okay, I could be wrong. Randy is more likely to be in the courtyard out back where all the action is.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll try there.”

Her words lacked enthusiasm, and at the sight of one of her white teeth nipping at her bottom lip he decided to give her an out. “Then again that might not be a good idea unless you’re wearing insect repellent. I heard some of the ladies complaining about mosquitoes. I’d hate you to get bitten.”

By anyone but me.

He’d wanted to touch that honeyed satin skin bare from neck to waist from the moment she’d turned her back to let Hailey and Joel pass. At that moment he wouldn’t have given a damn if the rest of her hadn’t lived up to his fantasy that a goddess had come calling.

Two days early, Santa, but who was he to complain?

Her hair was as dark as his, but no butterfly could ever look half that good on him. She sported at least ten that seemed to flit around her head. Fists bunched, he held back from trying to capture one, but knew his resistance was almost shot.

Hell, what was a guy to do when he that knew up close and personal was never gonna be enough?

From the moment she’d turned to face him, Franc had known he’d been deluding himself. No woman so beautiful, fabulous eyes, generous mouth, not to mention that mole, could possibly be here without a partner.

Soon as she’d proved him correct he’d wished the words unsaid. Randy Searle? The guy was the last person he’d have predicted. And he’d say the goddess standing before him was the last person Randy expected since he’d bet any money the sales rep was more interested in Kathy at the moment. Maybe he could save both of them from an embarrassing situation and do himself and the goddess a favor at the same time.

Her grateful smile almost floored him as she said, “Then that’s no problem, I never get bitten. Guess I’m the wrong blood group or something.”

“Good for you, let me lead the way through the crush. How about I get you something to drink on the way out?” he asked, hoping delay would give him time to formulate plans.

Hell, Randy was in a jam. The least Franc could do was help him out of it. Too bad he couldn’t claim his motives were entirely altruistic.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

He got the distinct impression his goddess was just as eager to put off the meeting, and a spark of hope blossomed that all wasn’t well in the house of Searle. “Okay, red or white?”

She rubbed the tip of her tongue over the spot her tooth had nibbled, his mouth watered for a taste of raspberries. What other flavor could lips that color be?

“A merlot would be nice, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No problem, Ms….”

“Maria. Maria Costello.”

She held out her hand…their fingers touched, skin sliding on skin…the world stopped spinning and threw him off.

He took a deep breath before he ended up with a foot between his teeth. He just couldn’t get past the idea of Randy and the goddess as an item. The guy had all the inclination of a Casanova with none of the expertise. But filling his mouth with his own shoe leather wouldn’t help his cause.

“I’m Franc Jellic.”

Faint streaks of color fanned her cheeks. “Oh, I’ve heard of you. Nice to meet you at last.”

“Heard of me?” He didn’t like the sound of that one bit. It made her association with Randy resonate with words like long term. The back of his neck prickled. Funny place for a conscience, but he’d swear that’s what it was, though he was a bit long in the tooth to start worrying about moving in on another guy’s woman.

“I’ve read of your work in the business section of the Herald.”

He remembered the article; it had likened him to some sort of wunderkind. “I hope you took everything it said with a grain of salt. I’m not that good.”

“Hah,” she chuckled. “They always manage to get something wrong, and where I work, I tend to collect a fund of useless information. They never once mentioned modesty.”

“Got me. Okay, now the introductions are over let me snag you a glass of wine.” Guiding Maria through the crowd, he grabbed a full glass of wine from the small bar in the corner, hoping it was merlot. It was definitely red but he didn’t have time to inquire. It would be just like Randy to arrive before Franc had time to hustle Maria out of the dining room.

“This way.” Guiding Maria past the kitchen and out to the courtyard was both a bonus and a nightmare. He slipped one arm behind her and opened a passage into the courtyard with the other. The moment his fingers brushed bare flesh his heart jolted as if he’d touched a live wire.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured. Sliding his palm closer to the top of her hip, which had no calming effect on his equilibrium whatsoever, Franc made a pretense of checking out the courtyard. Laughter and conversation were more prevalent than in the other room and most of the tables were occupied by more than two. Using the excuse of the music stealing through the corridor behind them, Franc leaned closer and spoke a bare inch from her ear. “I don’t see him, do you?”

Maria took a step back as she turned to answer. “No, I don’t.” He saw her lip tremble as the glow of the Chinese lanterns highlighted the faint bloom of sweat beading her top lip and forehead. The step she’d taken pushed her close to the curve of his arm and through his shirtsleeve her skin felt on fire.

“You’ll be better out here, where it’s cooler than inside. I’ll find you a table to wait at while I look for Randy.” He found one overhung by ivy and a potted palm that filtered the pink lantern light.

A fat yellow candle burned in a ceramic pot and Maria motioned to it as she sat down. “I see someone took care of the mosquitoes.”

“Huh?” he looked at her, his mind blank as she tipped up her glass and drank. Were his lies catching up to him?

“Can’t you smell the candle? It’s citronella.”

The only scent teasing his nose was Maria’s perfume and it reminded him of crushed rose petals. “You can be comfortable then while I send out a search party.”

Sitting sideways, she leaned an elbow on the table, her wineglass swayed in the hand above it as she crossed her legs. “Don’t go to too much trouble.”

“I don’t mind.”

Her foot jiggled in midair, making a liar out of her. It was obvious she couldn’t wait for Randy to arrive. Well, he’d see about that.

Her toenails were painted to match her dress and he found himself staring at them as he wondered if he could get Randy out of the restaurant before Maria became suspicious.

He flashed one last look at her toes as he turned. They would keep. “You just enjoy your wine while I go look for your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend! Maria supposed that was the impression she’d intended—at first. Before Franc.

Quickly, she took her glasses from her purse, put them on her nose and glanced round the courtyard to make sure Randy really wasn’t there. After taking them off, she took a sip of wine. It had the full-bodied flavor of a cabernet sauvignon. Maybe it would bolster her courage. Suddenly, the idea that confrontation would solve all her problems before she went home for Christmas seemed like the worst she’d ever had.

Wasn’t it just like her luck to take a holiday on the night she met Franc Jellic. After years of knowing she had to keep herself safe from men, to meet a man who made her want to throw her heart into the ring and forget all her problems. He could almost pass for the description of the guy she’d told Mamma she was dating. She just hadn’t believed such a man could be real.

But her imaginary man friend existed solely to prevent Mamma from insisting she go to Italy to pick out one of the nice Italian boys the family would parade in front of her. She’d acted secretive about the guy she was seeing, telling Mamma she wouldn’t let him run the gauntlet of her family until she was sure of her feelings for him.

But, deep inside she was sure no other man could evoke the reaction she’d had to Franc. And in all probability, in a few moments he’d be ejecting her from the premises. What was it about him that called to her in this innately sensual way? Stirring her hormones. Filling her head with ideas about losing her innocence at last. Not that she’d dare give in to the devil prompting her imagination.

Sometimes her imagination was her worst enemy.

Her family was convinced that losing all memory of when she was abducted at seventeen was a good thing. They hadn’t allowed for the scenes that ran through her mind each time she touched her scars and tried to picture how she’d gotten them.

More reason for her to confront Randy Searle tonight and put this stalking business behind her, once and for all.

She took another sip and another. The alcohol skipped her stomach and targeted her brain. She’d hardly eaten all day. Nerves. But if she were slightly numb, maybe giving Randy Searle his comeuppance wouldn’t seem so daunting.

In the last few weeks he’d invaded her life, crushed her sensitivities with his grubby mind, violating her privacy. She was here to demand face-to-face that he stop stalking her.

Six feet and a crowded table away from the stairs, Franc’s pores broke into a sweat at the sight of dark-clothed legs heading down them. He was at the foot of them before he recognized Brent, his general manager. “Hey, buddy, am I glad to see you.”

Brent was almost as tall as his own six-four, but his slighter build made him look taller. “Whatever it is, no. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me tonight, replaced every empty glass with a full one and danced with every wallflower until it feels like I’m wearing someone else’s feet. I’d say that’s enough favors for one night.”

Franc gripped the banister and moved a step closer. “And it’s all appreciated. But I kid you not, this one you’ll enjoy. I want you to help me get rid of Randy Searle.”

His friend’s jaw dropped. “What? No way. You know I love you like a brother, Franc, but not enough to kill for.”

Franc rolled his eyes, giving Brent a punch on the shoulder to emphasize his point.

“Idiot. I fancy the woman like crazy, but murder’s too high a price even for a goddess.”

“A goddess? I take it you aren’t talking about Kathy, because that’s who’s with Randy. The pair of them were over each other like a rash. It got so bad I had to leave my bolt-hole and you know I’m a pretty tolerant guy, but man…”

Grinning, Franc said, “That’s because you’re a man of good taste, unlike Randy. No need to worry. That rash isn’t catching.”

He and Brent had been friends for years, working in the same line, electronic design, when the chance for a top job with Stanhope Electronics had come through a family connection—no nepotism involved. If he’d come up short on the qualifications, his new brother-in-law, Rowan McQuaid Stanhope, wouldn’t even have considered him, or Brent, whom he’d taken with him.

“The guy’s simply inconvenient. And what I’d like is Randy to leave and the woman who’s called for him to stay.”

“Let me guess. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.” Brent counted on his fingers. “How many times have I heard that?”

“A few, and not for at least a year, but this time I mean it for real. She’s goddess material.”

“That good, huh? So, it isn’t just a coincidence that this is the start of the summer break. Or, that you have almost two weeks on your hands when Rowan and your sister have forbidden you to work.”

“Never entered my mind.”

“Bull! You’ve thought of nothing but the project for the last year, and as a workaholic you don’t know how to switch off. Unless I miss my guess, you’re looking for a distraction.”

He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t already having withdrawal symptoms, Brent knew him too well, so he laughed, then said, “Wait till you see her. Just remember, you can look but you can’t touch.”