In Too Deep

Lily pressed a hand against her stomach, remembering all the times she had prayed for a child before adopting Annmarie. She didn’t dare hope for the impossible, especially under these circumstances. Not after learning how Quinn felt about family—and being abandoned.

She was at once terrified and exhilarated. Quinn’s baby. The contract Franklin Lawrence had put out on her life. The need to leave before someone—maybe her daughter—got hurt or killed.

Her already impossible choice had just become even worse. If she was pregnant, what did she do about Quinn?

For a moment she allowed herself to believe the baby was a foundation on which they could build a life together. For the moment she wanted to pretend that she didn’t have to run again….

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another month of the most exciting romantic reading around, courtesy of Silhouette Intimate Moments. Starting things off with a bang, we have To Love a Thief by ultrapopular Merline Lovelace. This newest CODE NAME: DANGER title takes you back into the supersecret world of the Omega Agency for a dangerous liaison you won’t soon forget.

For military romance, Catherine Mann’s WINGMEN WARRIORS are the ones to turn to. These uniformed heroes and heroines are irresistible, and once you join Darcy Renshaw and Max Keagan for a few Private Maneuvers, you won’t even be trying to resist, anyway. Wendy Rosnau continues her unflashed miniseries THE BROTHERHOOD in Last Man Standing, while Sharon Mignerey’s couple find themselves In Too Deep. Finally, welcome two authors who are new to the line but not to readers. Kristen Robinette makes an unforgettable entrance with In the Arms of a Stranger, and Ana Leigh offers a matchup between The Law and Lady Justice.

I hope you enjoy all six of these terrific novels, and that you’ll come back next month for more of the most electrifying romantic reading around.

Enjoy!

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Editor

In Too Deep

Sharon Mignerey

SHARON MIGNEREY

lives in Colorado with her husband, a couple of dogs and a cat. From the time she figured out that spelling words could be turned into stories, she knew being a writer was what she wanted. Her first novel garnered several awards, first as an unpublished manuscript when she won RWA’s Golden Heart Award in 1995, and later as a published work in 1997 when she won the National Reader’s Choice Award and the Heart of Romance Readers’ Choice Award. With each new book out, she’s as thrilled as she was with that first one.

When she’s not writing, she loves enjoying the Colorado sunshine, whether along the South Platte River near her home or at the family cabin in the Four Corners region. Even more, she loves spending time with her daughters and granddaughter.

She loves hearing from readers, and you can write to her in care of Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279.

Acknowledgments:

I would never have been able to imagine microbes that live in high pressure and high temperatures around deep sea hydrothermic vents, nor would I have had any idea about how to create a disaster in a lab, without input from my brother, Paul Noble Black, Ph.D. Thanks, Paul, for answering endless questions about life in a lab and microbiology, and for providing invaluable suggestions that made the science come alive. The good stuff is yours, and the mistakes are mine.

Thanks to Jo Mrozewski, whose knowledge of village life on the Inside Passage gave me wonderful tidbits, including basketball and hot strong tea laced with sugar and cream.

Dedication:

To Barbara, Amy, Patty, Daniele and Karen…

I love our Wednesday-night laughter and your friendship

more than you know.

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

Epilogue

Chapter 1

“Mommy, look at what we found.” Five-year-old Annmarie’s call was filled with enthusiasm from where she was bent over a tide pool with her new best friend, Thad.

Lily Jensen Reditch grinned at her daughter’s excitement as she clambered around several large boulders to reach the rocky beach. Act the act until you feel the feeling. Normal was the feeling she wanted, and today felt…normal. Her daughter’s carefree joy as she skipped through life was something that Lily would give a lot to have back in her own. She’d done all the right things to be better—gone through grief counseling and completed the regime recommended by victim’s advocacy—and she was determined to be her old self. The optimistic one. The naive one. That thought made her smile. Optimistic—oh, she hoped so. Naive—never again.

Movement farther down the shoreline caught Lily’s attention. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized it was just Thad’s uncle Josh, hiking around the Hollywood Bowl. It was a collapsed mineshaft that had eroded into a clamshell shaped cave at the water’s edge.

Lily deliberately reminded herself that the whole reason she had moved here was so she didn’t have to assess every person she met as a threat. No threats here, despite the sleepless nights that continued to plague her and despite the nightmares that made sleep something to avoid. Dismissing Josh from her thoughts and reminding herself to smile, Lily returned her attention to the children and the beach, which was dotted with tide pools that reflected the misty noon sky of late August.

By Alaska standards the day was warm. Cold, though, compared to the balmy weather of California where they had lived until two months ago. Despite the gray sky that promised rain, Annmarie’s blond hair gleamed, and Lily touched her daughter’s head when she reached the kids. Wrapping her thick red cardigan more firmly around herself, Lily bent over the pool where the children crouched.

A small scallop and an equally small crab rested at the bottom of the pool. A second later the crab bumped the scallop, and it shot through the water with surprising speed.

Annmarie laughed. “Wow, did you see that?”

Lily grinned at her daughter’s unabashed delight. “I did.”

“How do you suppose he did that?” Thad asked.

“He clamped both halves of his shell together, which squirts the water out and makes him leap forward,” she responded, demonstrating with her hands. The mechanics of how a bivalve moved was elementary compared to the mountains of research data she had been absorbing during the last few weeks.

A hydrothermic vent discovered last year was the major project under way at the Kantrovitch Research Center. Lily had uncovered several interesting areas where she could put her background to work…if she chose to get back into the research fast track. She was tantalized, a surprise since all she had wanted was to come home so she could be closer to family, especially her sister Rosie.

During the past month, the center had been practically deserted, evidently a planned break until additional funding arrived in September. Max, a jack-of-all-trades and handyman, had been the only other person around, caring for the specimens in the various aquariums, setting up the pressure tanks needed for deep-water specimens, and providing her with the extra muscle she had needed to drag new file cabinets out of the middle of the floor.

The project leader, Quinn Morrison, had interviewed her by phone, hired her sight unseen, and had encouraged her to settle in. He’d left her a set of keys and told her to take any desk in the main room except the one closest to the windows.

“How do you know it’s a he?” Annmarie wanted to know, drawing Lily’s attention back to the discovery at hand—the small scallop. “It might be a girl.”

“Could be.”

“How do clams make babies?” Annmarie asked, pulling at Lily’s sleeve. Whether talking about her aunt Rosie’s pregnancy or other animals, babies—or, more accurately, the making of them—recently held endless fascination for Annmarie.

“I bet they do it like snails. I’ve seen ’em in my brother’s aquarium,” Thad said before Lily could answer.

“But this is a clam,” Annmarie said.

“Not it’s not. It’s a scallop,” Thad said with the superiority that came with being two years older. “I bet they open their shell real wide so they can touch like snails do.”

“Actually, the male and female never touch,” came a voice from behind Lily, deep, as gravelly as the surf over rock, and pure Texan in the accent. “The male’s sperm is drawn through the water to the female when he senses eggs are present.”

Lily whirled around to look at the man, alarmed they were no longer alone and that he’d managed to arrive without her seeing or hearing him. His statement could have been salacious, but it was, instead, the matter-of-fact explanation of a scientist.

She sized him up through the haze of warnings that she hated…that she wasn’t safe, that strangers were potential threats. The man’s deep voice matched his appearance. Tall, broad-shouldered. Bigger than life, in fact, from where she knelt on the rocks next to the children. His sandy hair curled at his nape and over his ears, mussed as though he had repeatedly run his fingers through it. His eyes were dark, the color of a fjord when the shadows stretched over the water.

He smiled as he knelt next to them and said to Lily, “Hi, I’m Quinn Morrison.” Before she could respond he smoothly turned his attention back to the kids with, “This scallop will be lucky to even find a mate.” He pointed at the sea star that also occupied the tide pool. “See this guy here? He’s Pacific Henricia and his favorite food is the scallop. And if he gets close enough—”

“The scallop will be lunch,” Thad finished.

Lily’s galloping heartbeat settled. This was her new boss—and, of course, he knew the scientific names of the local sea life.

“That’s right,” the man agreed.

“Maybe we should take her out of this pool and put her into another one,” suggested Annmarie.

“What if the sea star is hungry?” he asked. His glance skipped over Lily before focusing on her daughter.

Each time he looked at her, Lily could feel a charge in the energy around her. She hadn’t felt a spark of awareness like this in nearly forever. She shivered and openly watched him. The tanned lines of his face and the deep smile lines around his eyes reminded her of the men in her family—men who wrestled a living from the sea by fishing the waters of the inside passageway.

He smiled easily as he talked to the children, the expression encompassing his entire face. It wasn’t so much handsome as interesting. Prominent cheekbones sculpted a deep hollow at his cheeks and a cleft emphasized his chin and square jawline. Clearly in his element, he wore a long-sleeved denim shirt, a micro-fleece vest and worn, button-fly jeans.

Annmarie asked, “Why does he have to eat this scallop?”

“Because Mother Nature intended that some animals be food for others. Sure, we could move it, but it could end up being somebody else’s lunch.” He winked at Annmarie. “Yours or mine.”

“That’s right,” Thad agreed with an emphatic nod. “I’ve eaten scallops. Lots of times.”

“So, how does the boy scallop know when the girl scallop has eggs?” Annmarie asked, returning with single-minded purpose to her earlier topic. The child had babies on the brain.

“Well,” the man answered, “we don’t actually know for sure. We think the female’s scent changes. That’s the trigger for mating behavior in most animals.”

“You mean, they smell? Like perfume or something?” She wrinkled her nose.

He laughed. “Yeah. Like perfume or something.”

Once more his gaze slid from Annmarie to Lily, who felt her color rise. She became aware of his scent—not cologne or sweat. Something far more subtle and altogether…pleasant. A nudge of awareness became something more, a primal recognition that welled out of the depth of her heart. He’s the one.

She shoved the thought away. John had been the one. Her beloved John who had died so suddenly more than two years ago. Whatever spark she felt was loneliness, she reasoned. Maybe even envy at seeing her sister and her brother-in-law so deeply in love. Maybe missing someone to hold her through the night when her thoughts were consumed with a past she couldn’t change.

He smiled and extended his hand. “You must be Dr. Jensen.”

“You’re back.” She automatically shook his hand. A common, ordinary act. Still, she was aware of his touch, his hand large and warm and inviting around hers.

“Just last night.”

“I’m Annmarie,” her daughter interjected. “This is Thad.”

“Your children?”

“Just me,” Annmarie said with one of her infectious grins. “Thad, his mommy is Hilda. She’s my mom’s friend from when they were kids. Did you know that?”

“Ah, no.”

“Do you have kids? We could play with them,” Annmarie said.

He laughed. “No. No kids.” His gaze skipped back to Lily. “No wife. Not even a dog.”

“Aunt Rosie has a dog,” Annmarie informed him. “And I have a cat named Sweetie Pie.” When he looked back at her, she added. “You could play with them or I could help you get one of your own. Which do you like better? Dogs or cats?”

Quinn stood up, and his “Oh, no!” expression at the thought of being fixed up with a pet made Lily grin.

“You’d better say no quick,” she said. “Once my daughter gets hold of an idea—”

“I get the picture.” He smiled down at Annmarie. “Thanks for the offer. But—”

“You’ll think about it.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t know why grown-ups have to think about all the fun stuff. Come on, Thad, maybe we can find an octopus.”

Quinn laughed and offered Lily his hand. “Now that would be an unusual find.”

He pulled Lily up when she placed her hand within his. The detached-scientist part of her wanted to know how it was possible to feel each separate pull of his fingers against hers.

The man was not quite as tall as her brothers-in-law, both of whom were well over six feet. Unlike them, Quinn had the breadth of a linebacker. Broad shoulders had never before been alluring. Next to this man’s bulk, she didn’t feel so much small as sheltered. She reminded herself that she really did prefer men who didn’t make her feel quite so small.

She watched Annmarie and Thad scamper down the deserted beach, pausing here and there to lean over and peer into the tide pools.

“I was expecting someone older,” Quinn added, releasing her hands, ignoring that it wasn’t politically correct for employers to bring up the subject of age. “Someone with your publishing record ought to be at least fifty.”

“A scientist without a publishing record is also one without grants…and a job.” Lily met his gaze and told him the truth. “I was expecting you to be older, too.”

One of his eyebrows rose and another engaging grin lit his face. “I’m only nineteen.”

“It’s not the years, then, but the miles.” The man had an impressive record based on what she’d been able to glean from the university Web site. With his investigation of this hydrothermic vent he had the chance to establish himself as one of the top marine biologists in the Pacific.

“They do pile on.” He laughed again, a deep, rumbling purr that encouraged her to laugh with him. And she did, feeling a rapport with this man she had experienced with only three other men in her life. Her father. Her husband. Her brother-in-law, Ian. Fleetingly, she wondered, if like Ian, this was a man she could entrust with her life. Her laughter faded. She turned away that thought as her gaze fastened on her daughter. Act the act, she reminded herself. This wasn’t California. She and Annmarie were safe.

“Are you responsible for that major cleanup project in the front office?” Quinn asked, pulling her attention back to him.

The question sounded to Lily like an accusation. When she had first set foot in the facility two weeks ago, she had found the office in complete chaos. Quinn Morrison might be a brilliant marine biologist, but organized he was not. Papers and files had been piled on every available surface of the office area, and two huge file cabinets that still bore their shipping tags were empty. Ignoring the mess on that one desk he’d told her to leave alone, she had gradually read, labeled and filed everything.

“Responsible?” She shook her head. “No. I’ve settled in like you told me to and acquainted myself with the research.”

“Getting acquainted with the research is one thing. Cleaning is another.”

“I was trying to find a place to sit. And since you had those empty file cabinets—”

“If I’d wanted a janitor, I would have hired one.” The instant the words left his mouth, Quinn heard the annoyance in them and reluctantly admitted he was irritated. When he’d left a month ago, the place had looked a shambles, but at least it was his shambles. When he’d walked in a half hour ago, he’d barely recognized the office. The homey touches on one desk—pictures and a plant—were an invasion to his space.

“I’ve moved something you need—that’s why you’re upset.” Her gaze openly searched his face. “What are you looking for?”

Quinn stared at her, surprised she hadn’t taken offense. Her willingness to take responsibility for his being annoyed took away any fun that he might have had in continuing to bait her.

“There were a bunch of files on clams we collected from the vent site. I’d like to find the ones on the hemoglobin levels found in the dissected clams,” he said. He’d need those reports sooner or later, he decided, but now was as good a time as any to figure out if he’d ever lay hands on any of his data again.

“I know exactly where that is. And since I couldn’t find the electronic file, I scanned them, so they’re also in the computer.” Lily’s glance went to the children who were bent over a tide pool. “Come on, Annmarie,” she called. “Time to go.”

Quinn looked at the shoreline, noting the tide was still going out. “They can stay here if they want.”

“Says the man with no kids.” Lily grinned. “I might let them walk from the research center to Thad’s house, but leaving them alone on the beach…” She shook her head.

“Asking for trouble, huh?” Time to be agreeable, though he thought she was being a little overprotective. Then again, maybe this was the way caring mothers acted. Like he would know.

“Big-time.”

As soon as Lily saw that the kids were right behind them, she headed toward the path that led up the steep slope to the research center. The bounce in her step matched the enthusiasm in her voice. “Do you have the data for the clams harvested from the Juan de Fuca site? Since this vent isn’t as deep, any variances should be interesting.”

Quinn followed her, wondering if she’d managed to really bring enough order to the files that she really did know exactly. He would have spent a couple of hours looking for the files, much as he’d never admit that to her. “Given your previous research, I would have thought the microscopic life around the vent would be more interesting to you.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Like the barophiles? Or the autotrophs? They’re magical.”

That wasn’t the word he would have applied, but he liked the thought.

“Have you isolated any organisms yet?” she asked.

He shook his head. “We’re still in the survey stage. We’ve scheduled a week to gather samples when the summer break ends.”

“Figuring out how a living thing creates food from inorganic material,” she continued, “could keep a scientist happy for years.”

“You?”

Her smile faded. “I…left that behind.”

He still couldn’t believe that he’d managed to snag someone with her credentials for the research assistant’s salary that he could offer within the budget of his current grant. Now that he’d met Lily Jensen, Ph.D., he was even more confused. Especially after she’d made it clear during their phone interview that she was now using her married name. Since all of her publishing had been done under her maiden name, why in the world was she distancing herself from it?

“What made you give up the publish-or-perish career track to come here? There’s not much challenge for someone who’s had her own lab and grants big enough to support a staff.” He didn’t elaborate that the grants he’d secured so far were much too small to do the research needed. If she had come across those documents, she would have already figured that out. He gave her one of his practiced smiles. “Kick me if I’m being nosy.”

She didn’t respond for several seconds, then carefully said, “I needed a career change. No. More than that. A life change. My sister Rosie lives here, so we came here.”

“Ah.”

“Ah?” She turned face him.

“Everyone sometimes does,” he said with a nod. “Needs a change that is. After a divorce—”

“I’m not divorced.”

“After being fired.” His smile stayed firmly in place. He knew he was prying, and he wondered how long it would be before she told him to back off.

“I wasn’t fired. The university even offered me a bigger lab as an inducement to stay.”

That didn’t surprise him. She had a slew of papers that made his own publishing record look meager. “After rescuing your kid from drugs.”

“Annmarie is only five-years old, for pity’s sake,” she responded. The corners of her eyes crinkled as though she couldn’t decide whether to laugh at him or to be mad at him. “Okay, yes, wanting a good place for her to grow up was part of it. But I’m not so idealistic as to think children in small towns don’t have their problems. I grew up in a small town—”

“Where?”

“Petersburg.”

“Alaska? You’re not a California girl?” From her blond hair, casually secured in some kind of big clip at the back of her head, to the honey tan of her skin, she conjured images of the old Beach Boys’ song about California girls.

Lily shook her head with a chuckle. “Not me, though I lived there for the last ten years.”

“Which explains why you’re cold.” The long red sweater belted around her waist hadn’t kept her from shivering, even while they walked up the slope.

She shivered again, glancing back toward the beach where the children were tagging along behind them. “It’s a nice day.”

Without hesitation, he took off his vest and draped it over her shoulders. She stopped walking and turned around to face him. Since she was higher on the slope, they were eye to eye, and he realized she was petite, her bone structure fine.

A question formed in her eyes. “Are you always this—”

“Inquisitive? Pushy? Nosy?” he finished.

She shook her head, her gaze deeply searching his eyes as though she saw a hero. For an instant he wished he were.

She simply watched him with those dark brown eyes that were unusual in a complexion as fair as hers. He’d been around enough women to recognize the spark of interest in her expression, which was totally at odds with her body language.

Thinking she was way too likable for his peace of mind, he said, “You moved here to escape the scandal of being involved with a student.”

“Outrageous.” She laughed.

“That bad, huh?”

“Your behavior,” she said. “Pushy, maybe. Nosy, absolutely. And definitely outrageous.”