Dangerous

Dangerous
Diana Palmer

Jacobsville, Texas, is a risky place for the heart… Tall, lean and headstrong, FBI agent Kilraven lives by his own rules. And one of those rules includes keeping his hands off Jacobsville’s resident sweetheart, Winnie, no matter the temptation. Shy and innocent, she couldn’t handle a man like him – a merciless man with a dangerous past.Yet Winnie’s still determined to stand by his side and, if they are to have a future together, her ruthless Texan will need to confront old secrets and let her into his guarded heart.Discover Diana… The author of over a hundred books, Diana Palmer is one of the top ten romance authors in America. This is sweeping, intense, passionate romance at its very best!

Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer

“Nobody does it better.”

—New York Times bestselling author Linda Howard

“Palmer knows how to make the sparks fly.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Diana Palmer is a mesmerising storyteller

who captures the essence of what a

romance should be.”

—Affaire de Coeur

“Nobody tops Diana Palmer when it comes to delivering

pure, undiluted romance.

I love her stories.”

—New York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz

Also byDiana Palmer

NIGHT FEVER

ONE NIGHT IN NEW YORK

BEFORE SUNRISE

OUTSIDER

LAWMAN

HARD TO HANDLE

FEARLESS

DIAMOND SPUR

TRUE COLOURS

HEARTLESS

INNOCENCE PROTECTED

WED IN WINTER

About the Author

The prolific author of over one hundred books, DIANA PALMER got her start as a newspaper reporter. One of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humour. Diana lives with her family in Georgia.

DIANA

PALMER

DANGEROUS

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

To Cindy Angerett, 9-1-1 dispatcher,

Beaver County, Pennsylvania,

and to Emergency Services Personnel everywhere,

who give their time generously,

both on and off the clock, to help someone in need.

1

Kilraven hated mornings. He especially hated mornings like this one, when he was expected to go to a party and participate in Christmas gift-giving. He, the rest of the police, fire and emergency services people in Jacobsville, Texas, had all drawn names around the big Christmas tree in the EOC, the 911 emergency operations center. Today was the day when presents, all anonymous, were to be exchanged.

He sipped black coffee in the Jacobsville Police Station and wished he could get out of it. He glared at Cash Grier, who smiled obliviously and ignored him.

Christmas was the most painful time to him. It brought back memories of seven years ago, when his life had seemed to end. Nightmarish visions haunted him. He saw them when he slept. He worked his own shifts and even volunteered to relieve other Jacobsville police officers when they needed a substitute. He hated his own company. But he hated crowds far more. Besides, it was a sad day, sort of. He’d had a big black Chow keeping him company at his rental house. He’d had to give it away because he wasn’t allowed to keep animals at his apartment in San Antonio, where he would be returning soon. Still, Bibb the Chow had gone to live with a young boy, a neighbor, who loved animals and had just lost his own Chow. So it was fated, he guessed. He still missed the dog, though.

Now, he was expected to smile and socialize at a party and enthuse over a gift that would almost certainly be a tie that he would accept and never wear, or a shirt that was a size too small, or a book he would never read. People giving gifts were kindhearted, but mostly they bought things that pleased themselves. It was a rare person who could observe someone else and give just the right present; one that would be treasured.

At his job—his real job, not this role as a small-town police officer that he’d assumed as part of his covert operation in south Texas near the border with Mexico—he had to wear suits from time to time. Here in Jacobsville, he never wore a suit. A tie would be a waste of money to the person who gave him one for Christmas. He was sure it would be a tie. He hated ties.

“Why don’t you just string me up outside and set fire to me?” Kilraven asked Cash Grier with a glowering look.

“Christmas parties are fun,” Cash replied. “You need to get into the spirit of the thing. Six or seven beers, and you’d fit right in.”

The glare got worse. “I don’t drink,” he reminded his temporary boss.

“Now isn’t that a coincidence?” Cash exclaimed. “Neither do I!”

“Then why are we going to a party in the first place, if neither of us drink?” the younger man asked.