“Dana?” her mother’s sleepy, worried voice wafted down the hall to her. “Sweetheart, are you all right?” A feeling of weary worry reached Dana, who knew that it was from her mother. She paused at the head of the stairs, unwilling to say anything, and her mother sighed through the open door, “It was another nightmare, wasn’t it, darling?”
“Yes, Mom,” she said raggedly. Two great tears spilled down her cheeks. “Don’t worry, I’m all right. I’m just going to read for a while downstairs, since I’m not very sleepy. You go on back to sleep.”
Something moving in the night air. Wind sighing. Silence, a distant creaking of bedsprings. Then her mother’s weary voice again, wafting like the night breeze to the slim figure hovering indecisively. “All right, dear. Though I wish you’d go to see Doctor Freedman and get some sleeping pills. This insomnia is going to push you to a collapse, if you aren’t careful…” Her words trailed off, and Dana headed on down the stairs. She knew her mother wasn’t going to say any more. She’d known what her mother was going to say before she’d said it.
The house was much too hot and stifling. She crept upstairs to dress in jeans, a thin summer top, and sneakers, pulling back her chestnut hair and tying it with a ribbon, for comfort. Minutes later she was slipping out through the back door, needing desperately a chance to breathe fresh, cool air. There was no possibility of that, though, for outside it was as hot and as muggy as the house had been. The night sky was clear, the darkness clean and cutting to the senses, the dark purple sky awash with brilliant white flashing stars. There was no moon. The huge pines to the right of the house moaned and sighed as they bent first one way and then another in the restless wind. Dana walked listlessly, her feet automatically finding her way, knowing the area so well. But no matter how far she went she could never run from the nightmare that was herself.
She’d always tenaciously clung to the fact that she was, though definitely strange, undeniably sane down inside and fundamentally sound. But now, after the past several nights when she’d dreamt of a life she’d never even lived, she was becoming frighteningly convinced that she was going mad.
She was utterly terrified. This was something dark and new, something totally outside the realm of her experience. As a young girl, her parents had gradually come to the realization that she was something special, something extraordinary. It began when they had noticed that whenever someone close to her had been hurt, she would cry silently, tears rolling down her small face, and she would cradle the part of her body that had been injured on the other person. She didn’t have to be told of the other person’s injury. She never had to be told. She always knew.
When asked about it, she never could adequately describe in words what it was that she really experienced. In fact as she grew older, she had been simply astounded to find out that other people had no experience of that which she had taken for granted as a simple part of life. She could not believe that other people couldn’t hear the unspoken messages that were fairly screamed at her.
Her parents had watched her respond to commands that were never uttered, wincing with a parent’s pain at the shaking puddle of nervous hysteria that was Dana who had come home early from her first day of school, As they had become more and more aware of her peculiar talent, they’d decided to do their best to shelter her. They’d taken her out of the public school system and her mother, a qualified teacher, had retired early to teach Dana herself. No mention of oddity or strangeness had ever been allowed to reach her young ears, but then again, she knew what was being thought.
Now, in the darkness of the cloaking night, she had to smile a little at her parents’ unquestioning support. They could have so easily looked at her as if she was a monster or a freak. But all she had ever received from them was that constant flow of their love and steady support.
As she’d grown older, she had done a little research and had finally labeled herself as a telepath. Picking up only certain people’s emotions and thoughts and not others, never able to control it, never able to transmit her own thoughts and feelings, she had retired more and more into herself. She was always a loner, always shying away from personal contact like a frightened rabbit. She walked now through the iron veil of darkness, quietly crying. No matter how she had tried, she’d never found a way to shield herself from other people. She always picked up their emotions and upheavals like radar, with an unerring sense, and it was sometimes enough to make her scream with anger and frustration at her utter lack of privacy. Though she was only twenty, she felt like she’d lived forever.
She’d always held on to that feeling of reality, though. She’d always been able to trace her feelings to something that made sense. Mrs. Reardon’s fearful spurts of intense rage that Dana had sensed, her mind feeling scorched as if from a fiery blast, had been caused because she’d known her husband was cheating on her with the girl who worked at the post office. That screaming, horrifying wrench of death that had hit her, three years ago, had been her father, smashed out of life almost instantly in an accident at the mill where he worked. It still made her break out in a cold sweat to remember that. When the message had come from sympathetic neighbours that Jerry Haslow had been killed, she had been rocking in silent grief beside her stunned and stricken mother.
But these queer, frightening nightmares made no sense whatsoever. She’d tried and tried, and she couldn’t make any kind of continuity mesh between them and the world as she knew it. They were coming from no one she knew. She was completely, despondently alone in the madness.
The wind howled overhead. The night rustled, whispering softly to itself. Her head lifted, blindly seeking. She wasn’t quite so alone. She found her voice and spoke out, “Hello? Who’s there?”
No answer. Pine rustle. The silent sound of stars twinkling. The wind caught at the grass and made it ripple, unseen. There was someone, a large black shadow that was the huge tree’s shadow and not part of it, unmoving. She said abruptly, feeling alarmed, “I know you’re there, so there’s no use in hiding. Who is it?” Her voice echoed queerly in the open space.
A low, masculine voice came back to her, slightly harsh, hostile. “You’re trespassing, whoever you are. For God’s sake, it’s four in the morning and hardly the time to be walking blithely about!” The black shadow moved, materialised into the shape of a man.
When a new business partner appears in Kati’s diner, it’s not just the broccoli that’s steamed.
Kane and Mabel
© 2012 Sharon DeVita
Kati Rose Ryan lives in the small town of Libertyville, Missouri, taking care of the diner her irresponsible brother left her to run. When a “friend” of her brother shows up at the diner, Kati is immediately suspicious. Her brother Patrick’s friends are nothing but thieves and freeloaders and she’s had her fill of them.
She fully intends to throw no-good Lucas Kane out on his ear. Until Lucas tells her that her brother lost his half of the diner to him in a poker game, and Lucas is her new partner.
Furious that her brother could be so reckless and irresponsible to gamble his half of the diner away, Kati does everything in her power to get rid of Lucas. But, Lucas isn’t budging. In fact, he intends to stay in Libertyville until he can prove to Kati that he doesn’t just want to be her partner in the diner, but in life, as well.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Kane and Mabel:
“Can I help you?”
He lifted his head and Kati found herself staring into the most glorious blue eyes she had ever seen. He was more attractive up close than she’d anticipated. Her mouth grew dry as his gaze slowly swept over her, from the top of her unruly auburn curls, across the white blouse and past the faded jeans to linger on her tattered sneakers.
A smile twitched at his mouth. “A little more coffee would be nice.” He lifted his cup to her and Kati glared at him. Another freeloader, she knew it! If she started waiting on him and serving him free food, she’d never get rid of him.
Yanking the cup out of his hand, Kat
i stormed behind the counter and grabbed the pot left over from breakfast. Sloshing some cold coffee into his cup, she returned to the booth and banged the cup down in front of him. Tapping her foot impatiently and trying not to stare at him, she waited while he took a sip.
“This coffee is terrible,” he announced, and Kati reached out and snatched the cup out of his hand.
“Since you don’t want any more of my coffee, perhaps you’ll tell me what you do want?”
One black brow rose and his eyes danced merrily. “Do you treat all your customers so courteously?” he asked casually, pausing to roll up the sleeves of his shirt.
“Listen, Mr.—”
“Kane. Lucas Kane.” He held out his hand and Kati stared at it as if it were a snake ready to strike. Her eyes caught a flash of something on his arm. A tattoo, that much she knew for sure. She tried not to stare, but her curiosity got the best of her and she squinted, trying to make out the words.
“Born to Raise Kane,” he drawled slowly, and Kati’s startled gaze flew to his. Her breath caught unexpectedly and she felt annoyance streak through her.
“Mr. Kane,” she said sharply. “I have work to do, so if you don’t mind, would you please state what your business with my brother is, so that I can get on with my business?”
“Ahhh, my business. Well, Mabel…” Leaning back against the booth, he inclined his head to study her from a different angle.
“My name’s not Mabel,” she snapped, a little off balance at the way he was looking at her.
He frowned in obvious confusion. “Who’s Mabel?” he inquired, and Kati ground her teeth. Just because the diner was called Mabel’s didn’t mean there had to be a Mabel. That was the name of the diner when she purchased it. She bought the place from a man named Bruno, and he’d never seen hide nor hair of anyone named Mabel, either. Everyone in town knew who really owned the place, so there didn’t seem much point in changing the name. Besides, new signs cost money, money better spent elsewhere, not that she intended to explain all of that to him.
“Would you please state your business?” Kati demanded, her patience sorely strained.
He smiled pleasantly. “I guess you could say my business is your business.” Kati narrowed her eyes to stare at him suspiciously.
“What the devil are you talking about, Mr. Kane? I don’t have time to play guessing games with you.”
“Call me Luke.”
“I’ll call you a lot more than that if you don’t hurry up and tell me what you want!” Kati threatened, trying to ignore Bessie who was waving frantically from the kitchen.
He lifted his finger and beckoned Kati closer. Puzzled, but anxious to learn what he wanted, she leaned down so he could whisper in her ear. “You know,” he said softly, his warm breath fanning her hair, “you are mighty testy. Perhaps you should try meditating. Maybe your karma is out of whack!”
Jerking upright, Kati glared at him, not at all amused by the mischief in his eyes. “What do you want?”
“Food,” he said simply. “But after that coffee, I don’t know if I should risk it. I’m not too fond of food poisoning.”
“Food poisoning!” Kati bellowed, glaring at the man. How dare he insult her diner. “I’ll have you know the food in here is excellent. Not that you’re going to get any of it!”
Reckless
Amanda Carpenter
She’ll risk her safety to save lives, but can she risk her heart to find love?
As a foreign correspondent working in dangerous, far-flung locales, Leslie considers herself a tough, capable woman. And that is put to the test, when her plane is hijacked. Placing her life at risk, she manages to sacrifice her safety to allow the other hostages to escape.
Left alone in captivity, Leslie begins to despair, but when a fellow journalist with whom she’s had a brief fling appears, Leslie realizes their relationship was more than skin deep. And together, they can face both her captors as well as their feelings for each other.
This Retro Romance reprint was originally published in March 1986 by Mills & Boon.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Reckless
Copyright © 2014 by Amanda Carpenter
ISBN: 978-1-61921-786-7
Edited by Heather Osborn
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Original Publication by Mills & Boon: March 1986
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: January 2014
www.samhainpublishing.com
Reckless Page 15
