Typical Male

Typical Male
Cait London

I'm not your run-of-the-mill pampered playboy - I'm a Blaylock! - Tyrell Blaylock, corporate warrior and defender of his family landThis loner came home to find peace - not to wrangle with Celine Lomax, the hot-mouthed firebrand who'd invaded his mountaintop retreat. She would stop at nothing to reclaim her birthright - land she believed Blaylocks stole from her family generations ago.And the more the seductive spitfire insisted on taking Tyrell's rich Wyoming legacy, the more he dreamed of taking her . Because one taste of her inexperienced lips and Tyrell knew he was destined to introduce Celine to the bliss of womanhood… and the joys of a real family - typical Blaylock style. Some men are made for lovin' - and you'll love our MAN OF THE MONTH, another irresistible Blaylock brother!

“You Actually Want To Reopen The Old Feud. You Want Revenge.” (#u26fb22bc-c4cb-5cea-a10d-a257d6dec241)Letter to Reader (#u552032d4-940b-5838-a093-501202ffaab7)Title Page (#u631402dc-65cb-5f37-a507-bc557f177690)About the Author (#u5a6368ef-7f1d-5676-870d-0cb0dc75f4d3)Dedication (#uaeac410d-3fe8-55d3-ab5c-bae313567bcb)Chapter One (#u164d7807-f3d0-55cb-aced-f0f8cf9ed88c)Chapter Two (#ued8d3cc7-c2d4-51b9-875e-5eb7c892ec04)Chapter Three (#u0ee6dc18-2dcf-5514-be40-cd93f612fc05)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)

“You Actually Want To Reopen The Old Feud. You Want Revenge.”

It was to Celine’s benefit that Tyrell knew this was not a whim, but a need that drove her every breath. “You got it, buddy.”

“Well, then,” he said slowly. He stretched slowly, and Celine blinked at all that male body rippling in front of her. She swallowed abruptly as an unfamiliar little feminine lurch that she couldn’t define stabbed at her. Celine liked everything in black and white; she did not like unsteady emotions.

Tyrell’s slow smile might have devastated another woman. “I guess you’ve got to deal with me, then. I appreciate the notice. And thanks for referring to me earlier as a ‘big, juicy tomato.’ I’m honored, and you’ve gone to all this trouble, too, to pick me from my vine. My, that makes me feel so special.”

Tyrell Blaylock, the man she’d ruined, was flirting with her!

Dear Reader,

Merry Christmas from Silhouette Desire—where you’re guaranteed powerful, passionate and provocative love stones that feature rugged heroes and spirited heroines who experience the full emotional intensity of falling in love!

The always-wonderful Cait London is back with this December’s MAN OF THE MONTH, who happens to be one of THE BLAYLOCKS. In Typical Male, a modern warrior hero is attracted to the woman who wants to destroy him.

The thrilling Desire miniseries TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB concludes with Lone Star Prince by Cindy Gerard. Her Royal Princess Anna von Oberland finally reunites with the dashing attorney Gregory Hunt who fathered her child years ago.

Talented Ashley Summers returns to Desire with That Loving Touch, where a pregnant woman becomes snowbound with a sexy executive in his cabin The ever-popular BACHELOR BATTALION gets into the holiday spirit with Marine under the Mistletoe by Maureen Child. Star-Crossed Lovers is a Romeo-and-Juliet-with-a-happy-ending story by Zena Valentine. And an honorable cowboy demands the woman pregnant with his child marry him in Christy Lockhart’s The Cowboy’s Christmas Baby.

Each and every month, Silhouette Desire offers you six exhilarating journeys into the seductive world of romance So make a commitment to sensual love and treat yourself to all six for some great holiday reading this month!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to.

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., PO Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian. PO Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont L2A 5X3

Typical Male

Cait London

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

CAIT LONDON

lives in the Missouri Ozarks but loves to travel the Northwest’s gold rush/cattle drive trails every summer. She enjoys research trips meeting people and going to Native American dances. Ms. London is an avid reader who loves to paint, play with computers and grow herbs (particularly scented geraniums right now). She’s a national bestselling and award-winning author, and she has also written historical romances under another pseudonym. Three is her lucky number, she has three daughters, and the events in her life have always been in threes. “I love writing for Silhouette,” Cait says. “One of the best perks about all this hard work is the thrilling reader response and the warm, snug sense that I have given readers an enjoyable, entertaining gift”

For my daughter Karla

One

“A woman, and she looks like trouble.” Tyrell leaned back into the shadows of Wyoming’s Rocky Mountain pines and firs and studied the woman marching up the rugged path to his cabin hideaway. Her stride wasn’t easy, but firm, with a purpose — she wanted something.

His ex-fiancée had used other methods. But his sister, Else, the matron of the extensive Blaylock family, walked like that, and she always had a purpose.

Tyrell wiped the sweat from his chin with his forearm. Chopping wood took away a measure of his dark mood. He traced the zigzagging route of a red fox in the brush, then scanned the cloudy sky where a golden eagle seemed to hover in the high winds. At this altitude, late May was cold, though the ranches below were decked in spring’s vivid green. Six months ago, he had been a top executive, a chief of finance for a New York corporate office. Now the only peace he’d found was about to be invaded by a woman.

He wasn’t in a mood to deal with anyone, even his family Else didn’t like her brothers to escape her. James, Logan, Dan Roman and Rio all had wives and only lightly mourned the freedom of “holing-up.”

Until Tyrell had settled the storms within him, he was doing just that, taking a “breather” and coming home to the source of his peace—the mountains and his family.

He hefted the ax and placed his thoughts in numerical order He liked numbers; they had always served him well. He swung the ax at the trunk of the tree and began to count his thought with each solid whack. One—when he’d found what he needed settled that savage edge riding him, then he would—He swung the ax again, coming down on the first cut to create a wedge that would eventually fell the tree. Two—go in for the kill, find out who started the rumors about him. Someone had been tracking his life, his credit cards, his bank account, his method of travel and telephone bills. Three—the ax bit into the wood with an expert cut that would eventually topple it. Returning home was all part of his plan to sort out his life. And it would be a long time before he’d trust a woman.

A hawk, seeking a mouse, soared in the clear blue Wyoming sky as Tyrell gripped his ax tightly. The woman continued he steady march toward his sanctuary. The few women in Tyrell’ life had always wanted something—cash, career, status. At one time, he’d wanted those things, too. Now he didn’t; he wanted peace. Tyrell’s gaze swept over Jasmine, the small Wyoming town nestled in the valley below. His ancestor Micah Blaylock had settled the valley and had taken a bride, and the Blaylock name was rich with honor and respect. The youngest of seven children, Tyrell had come home again to find that honor and family values he’d tossed away the years he’d worked to build Mason Diversified. Mason’s, a top shipping and label company now owned many subsidiary companies with varied interests but Tyrell had paid a dear price. He’d been away from his family and his roots too long.

Micah Blaylock’s old cabin had been Tyrell’s refuge—rebuilding it had given him what he’d needed.

It wasn’t easy to move back into his family. He couldn’t forget his father’s last telephone call — Tyrell should have come home and didn’t. He’d been too busy chalking up profits for Mason Diversified.

He inhaled the fresh morning air, scented of spring. Soon there would be wild roses beginning to bud. A mountain blue bird shot across the sky, and new leaves shimmered on the cottonwood trees. And the air around him simmered with regrets. Now his parents were gone, killed in an accident on icy roads. He wondered if that ice had shrouded his heart, pictures of their crushed car in the deep canyon haunting him.

He studied the woman invading his peace. Then, with a curse, he expertly threw the ax he’d been using to cut wood; the ax handle rotated once in midair, the steel sinking deep into the trunk of an aspen tree. “If she makes it past that old rock slide, it will take her about two hours to get to the meadow, and she’s not getting past that. I came up here for peace and quiet.”

The woman, dressed in a ball cap, a dull red sweater against the morning chill and khaki shorts, placed one hand on a boulder and vaulted over it. Her small round glasses glinted, washed by the cloudy morning sun as she leaped over a stream and continued steadily upward on the rocky path. In a direct as-the-crow-flies line, she was not far from Tyrell’s cabin; however, the winding trail around a small canyon added to the walking time. From his high vantage point, Tyrell noticed her hiking boots and the slender athletic legs above them. Her backpack shifted as she vaulted over a log.

“She’ll sprain something and I’ll be stuck with her.” Tyrell had had enough of women for a long time. Hillary had left deep bruises. His ex-fiancée, the daughter of his boss, wasn’t exactly the love of his life, but she suited Tyrell’s rising financial career. After a five-year relationship, he’d expected her to believe his word against the rumor mongers’. His jaw tightened beneath his two-week beard. Someone had set out to deliberately sabotage his career, starting rumors about his private life and making insinuations about selling Mason Diversified’s lucrative client list to competitors.

An aging playboy, and jealous of Tyrell’s youth and fitness, Melvin Mason had gradually grown to resent his top man on a personal basis. Mason wanted singular control of the company, now that the firm was showing high profit.

Descended from hunters, Tyrell’s eyes jerked to a bighorn sheep, leaping on the red rock cliff above the cabin. Tyrell had expected his future father-in-law and employer of the past ten years to believe him. Insecure, feeling threatened and looking for reasons to strip Tyrell’s growing control of the company, Melvin Mason had believed what he wanted and took the rumors as truth. Melvin wasn’t the understanding sort, but then Tyrell hadn’t asked for friendship. He’d pushed Mason Diversified into a sleek, high profit company and had made millions for Mason. Tyrell liked numbers lining up to make neat profit. His colleagues hadn’t questioned his integrity; they respected him. He’d expected the same from his fiancée and an employer whom he had made rich. He hadn’t asked Hillary or her father for warmth; he’d asked them to believe him. After years of association, he hadn’t doubted that they would give him time to root out the troublemaker.

They hadn’t. Without waiting, without questioning or letting Tyrell untangle the gossip, Mason had wanted the company to himself. He wanted to play power hardball, ripping away Tyrell’s position and employee benefits. A bad move on Mason’s part — the aftershocks included Mason’s top clients calling Tyrell and asking for referrals to Mason’s competitors.

After Hillary’s and Mason’s reactions to the rumors that Tyrell had a sleazy private life, he hadn’t cared who started the trouble; he’d had enough after a long series of Mason’s attempts to undermine him. Prior to the final break, the day Mason ordered him out of the building, Tyrell’s instinct told him there was trouble. Two weeks before that day, Tyrell had moved to protect the investments and retirement portfolios of his staff and fellow workers, who wanted him to fight and who believed in him. Then, when their investments were safe and established in accounts outside Mason’s reach, Tyrell had set to work destroying what he’d built. On that final day, one touch of his finger to just one computer key, set into action damage that could not be repaired.

Descended from Apaches and Spanish conquistadors with a mix of European settler thrown in, Tyrell knew how to fight. He knew how to streamline profits and he knew how to fatten loss. He left Mason with a shell of a company, the same as it was ten years ago. Then he’d walked away, sickened by the lifestyle he had once wanted.

To mend, he’d come back to Jasmine, Wyoming, and his family, the Blaylocks. He’d sort out his disappointment and anger, in himself and in Mason, and then he’d rebuild his life.

Startled by his sudden flash of temper, Tyrell rhythmically slapped his thigh. Damn it, he wanted privacy, not visitors and chitchat or a helpless woman underfoot. The woman walked across a fallen log bridging another creek and Tyrell held his breath, hoping she wouldn’t fall. Instead she sat on a gray boulder and drew off her ball cap. Short, vibrant strawberry-red curls gleamed in the dim gray morning, her face small and pale in the distance.

“She’ll sunburn in this high mountain sun, even though it is cloudy.” Tyrell narrowed his eyes as she removed something from her backpack, stripped off her glasses and began rubbing her face and legs. “So she knows about sun protection, but there’s a whole lot more up here that can make life hard on a woman, including me. She’s not getting past my meadow.”

He glanced at the clouds and mist swirling around the blackrock jagged mountain above him. This was his element now, where he could trim his dark savage temper chopping wood and adding onto his log cabin. Rain was not far away, the air was heavy, fragrant with dampness. When the rain began, she’d change her mind and start back after resting. Then he could return to the peace he had to have....