The Officer And The Renegade

The Officer And The Renegade
Helen R. Myers

TELL ME YOU'RE INNOCENT! Taylor Benning's urgent plea seared Hugh Blackstone's heart. All the spurned half-breed had to do was admit he'd been wrongly accused. He knew the right words would prompt her to throw her arms around him, maybe even win him a night in her bed… .They'd once been as close as two people could possibly get. But how could he forget that Taylor had failed him all those years ago - in the name of love - and continued to betray him with the secret of their son?

Theirs Was Some History.... (#u5c127805-f200-5c42-8b9c-26c52a17e407)More Praise for Award-winning author Helen R. Myers: (#ufba12a65-0681-5299-ae6c-d7def8c063d0)Letter to Reader (#u39028661-3926-5d23-bc26-392c96014f61)Title Page (#u3934e5d6-ac5d-5c34-ae40-ae58a9c5a4eb)About the Author (#u3f15fafe-ba96-5119-907e-2a117c53e60e)Chapter One (#u225f3cba-175c-5a25-be90-b8bfbb5b8a0c)Chapter Two (#u2d1aa8aa-522e-522e-929b-a36ad6a9ebc0)Chapter Three (#ubd0e2680-c408-5691-abbe-b216493ebe84)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)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Theirs Was Some History....

Taylor had been the one for Hugh, the only woman who ever knew the feel of his strong, magnificent body against hers, and of those callused gentle hands exploring and claiming. From the day they’d met as kids, back when their relationship had been about kinship and understanding, through the sweet, sweet years of discovering love, then passion...all the way to the moment court bailiffs escorted him away, there had never been anyone else for either of them. That was a huge stack of memories for a woman to repress....

Now, fourteen years later, Hugh was free...and Taylor needed to tell him about her son...his son!

More Praise for Award-winning author Helen R. Myers:

“Ms. Myers never fails to give the reader a good solid, entertaining story with fresh characterizations and dialogue that sparkles.”

—Rendezvous

Dear Reader,

LET’S CELEBRATE FIFTEEN YEARS OF SILHOUETTE DESIRE...

with some of your favorite authors and new stars of tomorrow. For the next three months, we present a spectacular lineup of unforgettably romantic love stories—led by three MAN OF THE MONTH titles.

In October, Diana Palmer returns to Desire with The Patient Nurse, which features an unforgettable hero. Next month, Ann Major continues her bestselling CHILDREN OF DESTINY series with Nobody’s Child And in December, Dixie Browning brings us her special brand of romantic charm in Look What the Stork Brought.

But Desire is not only MAN OF THE MONTH! It’s new love stories from talented authors Christine Rimmer, Helen R. Myers, Raye Morgan, Metsy Hingle and new star Katherine Garbera in October.

In November, don’t miss sensuous surprises from BJ James, Lass Small, Susan Crosby, Eileen Wilks and Shawna Delacorte.

And December will be filled with Christmas cheer from Maureen Child, Kathryn Jensen, Christine Pacheco, Anne Eames and Barbara McMahon.

Remember, here at Desire we’ve been committed to bringing you the very best in unforgettable romance and sizzling sensuality. And to add to the excitement of fifteen wonderful years, we offer the chance for you to win some wonderful prizes. Look in the pages at the end of the book for details.

And may we have many more years of happy reading together!

Senior Editor

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The Officer And The Renegade

Helen R. Myers

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

HELEN R. MYERS

satisfies her preference for a reclusive life-style by living deep in the Piney Woods of East Texas with her husband, Robert, and—because they were there first—the various species of four-legged and winged creatures that wander throughout their ranch. To write has been her lifelong dream, and to bring a slightly different flavor to each book is an ongoing ambition.

Admittedly restless, she says that it helps her writing, explaining, “It makes me reach for new territory and experiment with old boundaries.” In 1993 the Romance Writers of America awarded Navarrone the prestigious RITA for Best Short Contemporary Novel of the Year.

One

“Jeez...look at the place. You really expect us to live way out here?”

As Taylor Grace Benning eyed the small town coming into view beyond the highway’s exit sign, she gripped the steering wheel of her aging red Jeep Cherokee and struggled to keep calm. It wasn’t the view that got to her, though, it was her son. No less than thirteen-point-three years old, yet he remained cranky when he first woke from a nap just as he had at three months.

You’d think I would be used to him by now.

Well, there was used and used. Besides, her nerves weren’t at their best, and the hurried marathon drive from Detroit hadn’t improved on that status, either.

“Come on, Kyle, you sound as though this were your first trip. So far things don’t look that much different since the last time we visited.”

“That’s the point—last time we weren’t planning on staying. Besides, I was a little kid. I didn’t know any better.”

Taylor eyed the extralarge T-shirt that hung on him like a parachute over a sapling, and his baggy, ripped jeans, and wondered what kind of emotional explosion she would have to deal with if she told him that he still didn’t have a clue. She opted for a mild cold war.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Right. Who wouldn’t want to live in a ghost town that’s been painted every gross shade of neon ever invented?”

Ignoring him, she exited Interstate 40, which went on to Albuquerque, and eyed their destination nestled at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Kyle was right; these days Redoubt, New Mexico, was like a surprise streak of paint on an otherwise no-nonsense canvas. The salmon pink, canary yellow, peacock blue and electric white buildings that she could see so far were startling against tree-covered cliffs. After driving for hours along the flat, then rolling, prairie tempered with spotty vegetation, this shocking splash of color was unexpected, despite her father’s warning that the town was attempting once again to reinvent itself. Aside from the fresh coat of paint, though, there was no missing that most of the structures were a half-century old and spare. No Frank Lloyd Wright or Taj Mahal creations here. On the other hand, glamour and grandeur weren’t what she and her son needed at this stage in their lives. The challenge was to make Kyle understand that.

“Forget aesthetics for the moment, okay? Your grandfather’s counting on us.” She hoped the reminder would trigger his conscience. “Once you get a chance to stretch your legs and take a better look around, I bet you’ll see things aren’t so bad.”

“Compared to what?”

“Reform school for one.”

“Not funny.”

She wasn’t trying to be; she was thinking about what he could have—probably would have—had to look forward to if they’d stayed much longer in the urban hotbed they had previously called home. “Sorry, dear heart. You leaned straight into that one.”

The young teen slouched lower in his seat and crossed his legs, further exposing a bony knee sticking through his torn and fraying jeans. Her only child was at a difficult stage in more ways than one. While physically sprouting into a man, emotionally he was light-years away from adulthood. As a result, when he wasn’t bumping his long legs or those clodhopper feet into walls and furniture, he was pining after girls aeons ahead of his maturity and experience, or else hanging out with boys too reckless and angry for any parent’s peace of mind. A month ago, when her fellow officers on the Detroit police force brought him home for the second time for offenses almost worthy of arrest, she’d begun giving serious thought to returning to the land of her birth. A few days later, a call from her father had convinced her to follow through with the idea.

Despite the dark lenses on her sunglasses, Taylor had to squint against the late-June sun, which was nearing its midpoint in the cerulean sky. But her eyes stung for another reason, too: having been away from the state for fourteen years with few visits between—and brief ones at that—the emotions rushing through her were as painful as they were sweet. As a girl, she’d ridden bareback across this land, slept under the canopy of this incredible sky, made love for the first time in this relentless heat. Once she’d made up her mind to come back, she’d understood she would have to deal with those memories, the old feelings... many things. But she’d hoped that she would be too busy to be susceptible to the “what if...” demons. Apparently those gremlins were more resilient than she’d anticipated.

“I sure hope Gramps has indoor plumbing,” Kyle muttered, twisting in his seat as they passed a weather-beaten shack with an even shakier-looking outhouse behind it.

Taylor felt her lips twitch. “You know he does. You’re just having withdrawal pangs because there’s no mall.” Thank goodness, she added silently.

“Yeah, and now that you brought it up, what do you expect me to do all day while you’re working?”