Release Day: MAY 27, 2014
Alaska: Where the men are as bold and untamed as America's last wilderness...
It's been three years since Lane Bishop tragically lost her fiancé, and she's finally ready to risk her heart on someone else. The hot look in Dylan Brodie's eyes says he's going to be that man.
But when Lane flies to the remote 1930s fishing lodge to help him renovate, she discovers a little girl who won't speak, eerie legends and strange sounds in the night. And when she investigates the history of the lodge, she uncovers a legacy of injustice and murder.
As danger stalks his daughter and the woman he is coming to love, Dylan must risk everything to uncover the shocking truth.
She loved too many things about Dylan Brodie. She had to be careful, had to protect herself. She couldn’t allow herself to get in too deep.
It was after one a.m., the night sounds intruding into the bedroom. The wind in the trees, the hoot of an owl on a limb somewhere nearby. Curled into Dylan’s hard body, Lane stirred and slowly opened her eyes. A faint trace of moonlight slanted down through the window. Tall pines cast dark shadows across the deck outside the bedroom.
Lane drowsed, her body warm and languid. She thought of Dylan’s amazing lovemaking, and a faint smiled curved her lips. The man was a very demanding lover and yet he never took without giving back. Her body was beginning to crave him like a drug.
Her smile slipped away. She had to remember this was only a summer affair, a sinfully delicious episode, a respite from the real world that she had allowed herself. Both of them knew it couldn’t last, both had accepted that before the affair ever started. Maybe they would see each other once in a while, when they could fit it into their busy schedules, but it was hardly a secret that long distance affairs never worked.
Lane didn’t want to think about that. Not now. Not when he slept so peacefully beside her.
She listened to his even breathing against the side of her neck, turned onto her back so she could study his face, the carved cheekbones, the curve of that hard mouth. When he shifted onto his back, intriguing bands of muscle tightened across his powerful chest.
She loved his body. Long, lean, and hard, every ridge and sinew honed for stamina and strength. She loved the way he knew exactly how to use it to bring them both pleasure.
She loved his protective nature, his commanding presence, his work ethic, the way he took control. She loved--
Lane broke off. She loved too many things about Dylan Brodie. She had to be careful, had to protect herself. She couldn’t allow herself to get in too deep.
Instead of touching him, rousing him from slumber, making love with him again as she wanted, she turned back onto her side and stared out the window. The curtains were open, giving her a clear view of the black night sky and jewel-bright stars, nothing like seeing it through the haze in L.A.
She was staring at a cluster of sparkling white dots, trying to recall the name of the constellation, when she saw him. A man, tall, his shadow moving stealthily, soundlessly across the deck. A cry locked in her throat and she started to tremble. Reaching for Dylan, she barely touched his arm before he came awake.
“What is it?”
“There’s a man...” She pointed toward the window. “Outside on the deck.”
“Stay here,” he commanded as he climbed out of bed. Jerking on the jeans he had slung over a chair, he grabbed his pistol off the nightstand and shoved it into his waistband. “The shotgun’s under the bed. There’s a safety on top. Don’t shoot me.”
Lane swallowed and nodded, watched him stride toward the bedroom door that led out onto the deck. He didn’t ask if she knew how to use the weapon. He just assumed she could handle the job if it needed to be done. No man had ever treated her so much as an equal.
Her heart raced as she watched him quietly disappear out the door. Hurrying to the window, she surveyed the wooden deck that wrapped around the bedrooms on this side of the lodge, but the man was already gone.
She thought of the moment he had realized she had seen him, the instant their eyes met and held, the faint hesitation in his step. He was wearing a sweatshirt with a hoodie that shadowed his face, and though she couldn’t really see him, she could feel the power of those eyes.
Lane shivered. No one can get inside, she reminded herself. Caleb had personally seen to that. She was safe. They all were. Still, she didn’t relax until Dylan returned to the suite.
She met him at the door. “Did you see him?”
He shook his head. “Nobody there.” There was something in his manner, something he wasn’t saying.
“What is it? Tell me.”
He sighed, raked a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “There was nothing. Not a trace. Not a footprint. Nothing.”
Her chin inched up. “I saw him, Dylan. You doubted me about the ghost but I was right. It might not have been real, but it was there. And I saw someone out there tonight.”
His mouth edged up. “All right, you saw someone. I believe you. Let’s just hope whoever it was got the message that he’s no longer welcome. Maybe now he’ll leave us alone.”
Dylan draped an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, baby. Let’s go to bed. We’ll take another look around in the morning. Caleb’ll be back by then. I’m a good tracker, but Caleb’s better. If the guy left any sign, we’ll find it.”
Maybe they would. Lane hoped so. Anything that would bring all this to an end.
“In the meantime,” Dylan said, “maybe we can find a way to get back to sleep.”
Lane’s insides warmed at the thought of that incredible male body pressing her into the mattress, moving deep inside her. Amazing how the man always seemed able to read her mind.
But as they passed the window, she thought of the shadowy figure on the deck, remembered the stealthy way he moved then just seemed to disappear, and a chill slipped down her spine.
Who was he? What did he want? She couldn’t help wondering if any of them would truly be safe until they found out what was going on.
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MEET THE AUTHOR:
Kathleen Kelly Martin (aka Kathy Lawrence, Kasey Mars)
Kathleen Kelly was born on 14 July 1947 in the Central Valley of California, USA. She obtained a degree in Anthropology and History from the University of California in Santa Barbara. She was a real estate broker, when she met her future husband, Larry Jay Martin. A short time after the two became acquainted, Larry asked her to read an unpublished manuscript of an historical western he'd written. Kat fell in love with both the book and the author! Then, after doing some editing for him, she thought she'd try her own hand at writing. She moved on to become a full time writer.
Punlished since 1988, she singed her books with her married name, Kat Martin, but she also used two pseudonyms: Kathy Lawrence for a book incollaboration with her husband Larry Jay Martin, and Kasey Marx for her first contemporary romances. The New York Times bestselling writer, among her many awards, has won the prestigious RT Book Review Magazine Career Achievement Award. To date, Kat has over eleven million copies of her books in print. She has been published in seventeen foreign countries, including England, South Africa, Spain, Argentina, Germany, Italy, Greece, Norway, Sweden, Russia, Bulgaria, China, and Korea.
Currently residing with her husband, a Western-writer and photographer, in Missoula, Montana, USA. But when they are not writing, they also enjoy skiing and traveling, particularly to Europe.
"I've always loved books. I was an avid reader, with any number of my own stories rolling around in my head. Writing them down seemed a logical step."
"I love anything old," Kat says. "I love to travel and especially like to visit the places where my books are set. My husband and I often stay in out-of-the-way inns and houses built in times past. It's fun and it gives a wonderful sense of a by-gone era."
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