The Hand-Picked Bride

The Hand-Picked Bride
Raye Morgan

“How Did I End Up With You In My Arms?” (#u0b5b24a5-9a55-557a-9ce9-6e75456394bf)Letter to Reader (#u116f3709-1ca2-526a-aa95-39fe1f46394a)Title Page (#ube412cae-00cd-5b99-b9ff-29c660f89518)About the Author (#u1a79bb99-b974-5af1-bdf6-320f2e067974)Chapter One (#u9da97da6-f016-5a55-998e-f6321d68ceaa)Chapter Two (#u45c1ff2a-0cd6-583f-b6fc-95a2d36c1c6c)Chapter Three (#u57a00963-252a-5a38-a606-4fe687aaf1a7)Chapter Four (#uae6623a0-757f-50f5-8bcd-3bdc1e969ca2)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)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“How Did I End Up With You In My Arms?”

Grant asked her wonderingly.

Jolene stretched luxuriously beneath his hands. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “Maybe it was just meant to be.”

He stared down at her, shaking his head. “This isn’t right.”

Jolene looked at him as he rose from the bed. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your space.”

He turned back to face her. “No, it’s not that, it’s just...” He started to reach for her again, drawn inexorably and relentlessly toward her by something he couldn’t explain—and couldn’t let happen. How could he tell her that the man she was really meant to be with was his brother?

He pulled her into his arms again. Just one more kiss, he thought irrationally. Just one.

Dear Reader,

Hello! For the past few months I’m sure you’ve noticed the new (but probably familiar) name at the bottom of this letter I was previously the senior editor of the Silhouette Romance line, and now, as senior editor of Silhouette Desire, I’m thrilled to bring you six sensuous, deeply emotional Silhouette Desire novels every month by some of the bestselling—and most beloved—authors in the genre.

January begins with The Cowboy Steals a Lady, January’s MAN OF THE MONTH title and the latest book in bestselling author Anne McAllister’s CODE OF THE WEST series. You should see the look on Shane Nichols’s handsome face when he realizes he’s stolen the wrong woman ..especially when she doesn’t mind being stolen or trapped with Mr January one bit....

Wife for a Night by Carol Grace is a sexy tale of a woman who’d been too young for her handsome groom-to-be years ago, but is all grown up now.... And in Raye Morgan’s The Hand-Picked Bride, what’s a man to do when he craves the lady he’d hand-picked to be his brother’s bride?

Plus, we have Tall, Dark and Temporary by Susan Connell, the latest in THE GIRLS MOST LIKELY TO.. miniseries; The Love Twin by ultrasensuous writer Patty Salier; and Judith McWilliams’s The Boss, the Beauty and the Bargain. All as irresistible as they sound!

I hope you enjoy January’s selections, and here’s to a very happy New Year (with promises of many more Silhouette Desire novels you won’t want to miss)!

Regards,

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

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

Canadian P.O. Box 609, Fort Ene, Ont. L2A 5X3

The Hand-Picked Bride

Raye Morgan

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

RAYE MORGAN

favors settings in the West, which is where she has spent most of her life. She admits to a penchant for Western heroes, believing that whether he’s a rugged outdoorsman or a smooth city sophisticate, he tends to have a streak of wildness that the romantic heroine can’t resist taming. She’s been married to one of those Western men for twenty years and is busy raising four more in her Southern California home.

One

Hey, Jolene. What happened to your baby?” the produce man from the neighboring booth called over.

“Kevin?” Jolene Campbell whirled and stared at the empty playpen in disbelief. For half a second, the facts failed to register. It couldn’t be. She’d just put him down a minute ago. She’d been talking to a customer and she’d glanced over and he’d been there. He’d been there!

But he was gone now.

One side of the soft foam playpen was smashed down and she knew right away her adventurous eighteen-month-old had found a way to escape. He’d been working hard on the project lately, but she’d thought she would notice if he...

Her heart was beating quickly, like a bird flapping in her chest, but she still wasn’t panicked. He had to be close by. She’d seen him only a minute ago.

The customer tried to hand her his money to pay for the German Chocolate cake she’d boxed for him, but she didn’t even notice, brushing right past him, leaving her booth along the side of the street unattended without a second thought. She had to find Kevin.

The Thursday San Rey Farmers’ Market was popular and people filled the closed-off street, milling back and forth in clumps, making it very hard to see a pint-size child wandering between the legs of the adults.

“Have you seen Kevin?” Jolene called to her friend and roommate Mandy Jensen who ran the soft pretzel machine.

“Kevin?” Mandy looked up and down the banner-filled streets. Booths selling everything from freshly picked arugula to wildly painted garden elves met her gaze, but no little boy. “No, I thought you had him in the playpen.”

“I thought so, too,” Jolene called back, but she was already hurrying, rushing, and panic was beginning to lap at the edges of her sense of control. Her long, blond braid hit her back as she went, bouncing off one shoulder and then another as she turned her head to search out every cranny she came upon.

“Have you seen a little blond boy coming by here?” she asked a complete stranger, not waiting for an answer when the woman looked at her blankly. Turning, she ran to the other side of the street. “Have you seen a little boy?” she called out. “My little boy is missing. Please, please, have you seen him?”

Someone grabbed her arm and she turned to see that it was Mandy.

“I’ll take this end of the street,” her friend told her, waving back toward the center of town. “You go the way you’re going. We’ll find him, Jolene. Don’t you worry.”

“Don’t you worry, don’t you worry.” The words pounded in her head but she couldn’t quite grasp what they meant, because worried was all she was right now. Kevin, his sweet little face, his huge blue eyes, his devilish smile, his fat little legs...

“He’s wearing blue overalls and a red checkered shirt,” she called out to anyone who would listen as she began to run. “He’s got to be here somewhere. Have you seen a little boy?”

People looked up, surprised, as she passed, at first not understanding, but looking sympathetic once they realized what was going on. But no one had seen him. How could that be? She wanted to shake someone. Someone had to have seen him. He didn’t just disappear. How could he have come down this entire street and no one notice?

“Kevin!” she called out, her voice almost breaking with despair. “Kevin, where are you?” There was a frantic fear growing in the pit of her stomach, a feeling only a mother could know. My God, where was he?

If asked, Grant Fargo would have admitted he didn’t know much about little kids. The only child he’d been close to at all was his brother’s little girl, Allison, and she was eleven now. He could hardly remember when she’d been a toddler. At any rate, though he was no expert, as he watched the little blond boy approach, he had a pretty good idea that a child this size shouldn’t be wandering the streets by himself. There must be someone nearby attached to him, he reasoned. Some mother or baby-sitter would show up at any moment. So he didn’t pay too much attention as the kid climbed up on the stone bench beside him and began eyeing the cookie he was eating.

“Hi,” he said to him at last, brushing a few dry crumbs from the fine Italian fabric of his suit pants leg. “What’s your name?”

No response. But there was a glint in the blue eyes.

“You want one of these cookies, don’t you?” Grant said conversationally. He patted the waxed paper bag beside him, tempted to offer a snack to the child, but then thought twice and hesitated. “Listen, I’d give you one, but I don’t think your mom would like it.” He held up the cookie he’d had a bite of and studied it. “You see, moms have this thing about their kids taking food from strangers....”

Too late he learned a lesson about eighteen-month-old baby boys. They have no manners and they seldom wait to be invited to take a snack that appeals to them. One chubby little arm shot out and four fingers and a thumb plunged into the bag, grabbed hold of a cookie and shot out again. The boy gave Grant a triumphant grin and clamped down on the cookie with all four teeth.