Lovers' Reunion

Lovers' Reunion
Anne Marie Winston

THE MAN SHE COULDN'T FORGET…He was a man of adventure, the epitome of masculinity, and he had swept the girl next door off her feet one incredible night - and made her a woman. But Marco Esposito didn't think he was the home-and-hearth type of man that Sophie Morrell deserved… so he walked away. But he never forgot her.Now Marco was back and he wanted to do right by Sophie - for now and always. Sophie hadn't forgotten those fiery kisses, but could she trust that their night of shared passion would grow into the love of a lifetime… ?

“Hello, Marco. I heard you were home.” (#uda08328b-ada9-57c1-91c3-d28a43fdcd7a)Letter to Reader (#ueb598f16-4ab8-5a44-a91a-c512212b5966)Title Page (#u97043fdc-7558-549d-8adc-f2ed384a35d3)About the Author (#ue895d332-d924-5e9b-90bf-cd68f9deaefc)Dedication (#u94254934-37a7-53ae-befe-2df21edfd48e)Prologue (#u67bb87c0-cc9e-50d3-8d32-3d0ce29ee2f4)Chapter One (#u7d565d66-9132-586c-9942-48e029387e82)Chapter Two (#u7f49c1cb-eb70-5a65-a4e4-f215db114b88)Chapter Three (#uc700c84c-4618-55f2-a700-74d1485c5ad2)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“Hello, Marco. I heard you were home.”

He didn’t want to take his eyes off her, as his gaze took in the woman he’d never forgotten.

“You look fantastic,” he said, and she smiled.

“Sophie. . .” He hesitated. “About the way things ended between us—”

“It was a long time ago, Marco, and I’ve forgotten it. I still consider you a friend.”

He frowned. That wasn’t the response he’d expected or hoped for.

“Have a nice visit,” she said as she walked back toward her house.

Her voice brought reality crashing down on his head. She had been his once, but he’d left her. And now he would have to do all he could to win her back....

Dear Reader,

The joys of summer are upon us—along with some July fireworks from Silhouette Desire!

The always wonderful Jennifer Greene presents our July MAN OF THE MONTH in Prince Charming’s Child. A contemporary romance version of Sleeping Beauty, this title also launches the author’s new miniseries, HAPPILY EVER AFTER, inspired by those magical fairy tales we loved in childhood. And ever-talented Anne Marie Winston is back with a highly emotional reunion romance in Lovers’ Reunion. The popular miniseries TEXAS BRIDES by Peggy Moreland continues with the provocative story of That McCloud Woman. Sheiks abound in Judith McWilliams’s The Sheik’s Secret, while a plain Jane is wooed by a millionaire in Jan Hudson’s Plain Jane’s Texan. And Barbara McCauley’s new dramatic miniseries, SECRETS!, debuts this month with Blackhawk’s Sweet Revenge.

We’ve got more excitement for you next month—watch for the premiere of the compelling new Desire miniseries THE TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB. Some of the sexiest, most powerful men in the Lone Star State are members of this prestigious club, and they all find love when they least expect it! You’ll learn more about THE TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB in our August Dear Reader letter, along with an update on Silhouette’s new continuity, THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS, debuting next month.

And this month, join in the celebrations by treating yourself to all six passionate Silhouette Desire titles.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

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, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Lovers’ Reunion

Anne Marie Winston

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ANNE MARIE WINSTON has believed in happy endings all her life. Having the opportunity to share them with her readers gives her great joy. Anne Marie enjoys figure skating and working in the gardens of her south-central Pennsylvania home.

For Mary Alice

My roomie

“Few delights can equal the mere presence of one whom we trust utterly.”

—George MacDonald

Prologue

Had he heard voices?

Slowly, Marco Esposito opened his eyes, dreading the sight of the dappled shades of the jungle surrounding him. God, if he got out of here alive, he’d never wear green again.

He held his breath, straining to hear above the warbling, whistling clamor of the creatures in the canopy above his head. Must’ve been wishful thinking. Or hallucinating.

His tongue felt thick and swollen. It took effort to unstick it from the roof of his mouth. He was dying for a drink, but he’d finished the last of the water late yesterday. Kind of ironic, since he was soaked from head to toe by the steamy humidity in the air.

Something was crawling over his hand. He fought back a shudder and hoped it wasn’t one of the brilliantly colored little tree frogs whose poison would finish him off a lot faster than the blood he’d already lost, considerable as he thought it was.

He knew better than to move, and not just because of threatening creatures. The pain was bearable as long as he lay completely still. He wanted to check his watch, but even the movement of his arm sent hot daggers of fire lancing up his right leg, so he didn’t. He squinted up through the leafy veil of the rain forest that soared in a tangled jumble of vines, thick tree trunks and leaves overhead.

Daylight. Unless he’d been dozing a lot longer than he thought, this was the second day, then. Relief swamped him. By day the jaguar he so feared would be lying low, waiting for night, when its sharp predator’s vision was unparalleled in the close, black regions of the terrain through which it passed.

He’d kept the flashlight on last night, shining it at random spots around him until the battery weakened and finally died. If he wasn’t found today, the jaguar would find him tonight.

By rolling his eyes to the left, he could just see the humped outline of what had been a small plane, wingless and shattered among the ferns. The pilot was still inside, dead since the moment of impact. The other body lay on the ground beside the plane. He’d covered it as best he could with a heavy tarp, broken open a couple of capsules of ammonia and prayed that any passing predators would be too afraid of the strange scents to come too close for a while.

Grief tightened his chest. Stu had been a good researcher, a trusted friend and damn good on expeditions like this. He’d died less than an hour after Marco had pulled him from the plane.

Marco hoped he’d get the chance to talk to Stu’s family one day, give them the final few words his colleague had sent to those he was leaving. Dammit! Stu had a wife, two kids, one of whom was still in high school. Life really sucked sometimes.

Family. His own family was going to be devastated if he didn’t make it out of this green hell. He hadn’t been home more than a handful of times in fifteen years. But in his heart, they were always close. His mom, dad, grandparents, four sisters... At least he wouldn’t be leaving a wife or kids to mourn him, to try to get along on their own.

And just like that, she was with him.

Sophie. He’d tried to forget her, to keep her out of his head for nearly six years now.

He hadn’t succeeded.

He could see her clearly: soft bouncy curls, laughing dark eyes, those full, pouty lips he’d so loved to kiss. He’d had no business kissing her, but his willpower hadn’t been up to the task of holding her at bay after the first time he’d tasted her. They’d had only one time together but still he could call up the images, the scents, tastes and touches as if it had been yesterday. And the raw, naked longing that had sprung from nowhere had spooked him.

His only defense had been to stay away. Away from Chicago, away from his own home, away from the girl next door who’d said she loved him.

But she’d been too young to love anybody. He’d told himself that more times than he could count.