Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Although once upon a time, I wanted it to be that way. Veronica stiffened, wondering where that thought had come from.

  “Dad said when you were small, your parents brought you to one of his fund-raisers and you followed me around all day.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes, isn’t that cute?”

  “I…I suppose so.” Veronica took a mental count. When she was seven, Tessa would have been nineteen. She could see how she must have been drawn to her.

  “Anyway, I’d forgotten all about that,” Tessa said in a chatty voice. “Dad said you wanted me to tie bows in your hair.”

  Veronica laughed softly. “I must have been a pest.”

  “Not really. So, after the party the other night, Dad told me what a tough time you had after your parents died, when you went to live with your grandmother.” Tessa’s eyes teared, and Veronica couldn’t help but feel she was being sincere. “I can’t imagine losing my father.”

  Veronica swallowed several sips of water, hoping to dislodge the lump forming in her throat.

  Tessa gave her a sympathetic look. “What made you decide to move back here after all those years?”

  Veronica had expected subtlety. Instead this woman had no qualms about asking what she wanted to know. “I wanted to work for myself instead of a large firm,” Veronica said, sipping her wine.

  “Yes, but you could have done that anywhere. Why come back to this town? You must have bad memories.” She brought her hand to her cheek in a dramatic gesture. “I just can’t imagine.”

  “That’s just it,” Veronica said, meeting Tessa’s curious gaze head-on. “I don’t have any memories of this town at all.”

  “None?” Tessa asked sympathetically.

  “None,” Veronica said matter-of-factly.

  “So when those doctors said you have amnesia, it was true. I thought they were just making it up.”

  “It’s true,” Veronica said, suddenly losing her appetite. “I’ve tried everything to remember. Even hypnosis. But nothing worked.”

  “That must be horrible.”

  “Yes.” Tessa’s smile radiated warmth and sincerity, but Veronica’s head was starting to throb even more, and she felt nauseated.

  “But I see you’ve already found a man. You’re seeing that handsome detective?”

  Veronica took a sip of water. “He’s a—Tessa, I’m not feeling well,” Veronica said, massaging her temple as a wave of pain rocked through her. “It seems I’m getting a migraine.”

  “Oh, dear, do you want to take something?”

  “No, I have something at home. I think I need to lie down.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Tessa seemed concerned, and Veronica felt even worse for skipping out on their lunch. Perhaps she and Tessa could be friends, after all. “I hope I didn’t upset you by bringing up your parents,” Tessa finished.

  “No, no, lunch was a lovely idea. Actually I woke up this morning not feeling well.” Veronica rubbed the base of her neck. “Must be a bug or something.”

  Tessa patted her hand. “I hope you feel better. Let’s do it again sometime soon.”

  “Sure.” Veronica clutched her purse and avoided looking at the quiche as she hurried out. She certainly couldn’t stomach any food.

  Once outside, she blinked to ward off the dizziness. Hoping the fresh air would do her good, she walked back to her office, breathing deeply and trying to suppress the throbbing at her temple. She clutched the stair rail and slowly climbed the steps, then shuffled into her office by sheer willpower. Two painkillers later, she stretched out on the sofa in her office and fell sound asleep.

  WHY WASN’T VERONICA answering the phone?

  The hairs at the back of Nathan’s neck stood on end. He was too damn worried about her to even think. First, the threatening message last night. Now, she wasn’t answering her phone. What if something had happened to her?

  “They found Barrett,” Ford said, leaning against his desk. “In some little hotel downtown. All holed up with a new mistress.”

  “Right under our noses. How the hell did they trace him there?”

  “His wife. She had a PI on him the whole time.”

  “So, he’s been there since the day Barrett Pharmaceuticals called?”

  Ford nodded. “Looks that way. Means he’s probably not responsible for that little Miller gal and her wolf cries.”

  Nathan let out several curse words and grabbed his jacket. “Maybe, maybe not. He could have orchestrated the whole thing from the hotel. Besides, I don’t think she is crying wolf, Ford.”

  “You’re a sucker,” Ford said.

  Nathan ignored him and rushed to his car. He might be a sucker, but his gut said something was wrong. He had to listen to his instincts. Veronica was in danger. He knew it; he just didn’t know who was after her.

  VERONICA WOKE with a start, her vision cloudy, the sound of a tree limb scraping against the windowpane drawing her gaze to the darkening sky. Her heart was pounding, her breathing erratic. She covered her face with her hands and took several deep breaths to remind herself that the dream was over. And it was just a dream—just like she’d had thousands of times before.

  The shadow had been pursuing her again, chasing her through the forest, and as she ran through the safety of the woods, the branches had snatched at her hands and legs and tried to grab her. She’d seen a bright light up ahead and heard music playing, the soft lyrics of “Somewhere over the Rainbow” fading in and out. She tried to run faster, but suddenly teetered on the edge of a deep hole. She dove for a tree branch to swing across it, but her hands slipped and her fingers scraped the bark, the prickly wood splinters digging into her palms. She felt herself falling, falling, swirling through the air, sinking into nothingness, then slowly waking up.

  She shook off the exhaustion and fear that came with the dream and stared at the clock, groaning as she noticed the time. Ten minutes before five. She had to meet the new locksmith in a few minutes.

  She padded into the bathroom and washed her face, then retrieved her keys and purse and a few files to work on at home. Switching off the lights, she made her way down the stairs. The remnants of fatigue and her earlier headache weighed on her body, and her muscles felt heavy and achy.

  Stepping outside, she wrapped her coat around her and scanned the grassy area. Empty. The gray sky was cold and dark, signifying possible snow, and a chill crept up her spine as the wind howled and whistled through the bare trees. She shivered and glanced around for other people, but the parking lot was amazingly vacant for so early on Friday, and the sunset had diminished with the impending bad weather. She should have listened to the weather forecast. It hardly ever snowed in Georgia, but occasionally an ice storm or light snow would blow through, immobilizing the city. No one was prepared for icy roads, and snowplows were reserved for the major expressways.

  Hurrying home would be best, so she opened the car door and climbed in, fighting with the wind as it caught a few strands of her hair and swiped them from her topknot. Something white caught her eye. A towel lay in the passenger seat, all wrapped up. Odd. She hadn’t put it there.

  Reaching across the seat, she slowly unfolded the edges of the towel, her heart thumping as a red stain came into view. The ends of the towel flopped open and she saw the shiny glint of metal. Blood trickled onto the soft leather of her car seat, and a scream locked in her throat. It was one of her own kitchen knives, covered in blood.

  Someone grabbed her arm and a male voice penetrated the eerie silence, calling her name.

  “Veronica, what the hell is wrong?”

  She turned, wide-eyed, to see Nathan standing beside her car.

  “Veronica, what is it?”

  A muffled cry escaped her and she pointed with unsteady hands to the seat. Nathan’s jaw tightened as he spotted the bloody knife. He helped her from the car.

  “Come on, sit in here.” Without preamble, he gently shoved her into the front of his own car an
d radioed for a crime unit. “I want this car searched with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “I…I got in and it was there,” Veronica mumbled, still shivering uncontrollably.

  “This game is getting tiresome,” Nathan said, gritting his teeth. He pulled Veronica into his embrace, and she relaxed against him, grateful for the warmth of his strong arms.

  “It’s okay.” He rubbed his hand along the base of her spine, and Veronica felt his calm soothing voice wrap around her like a tender caress. “When the crew gets here, I’m taking you home.”

  “I was supposed to meet the locksmith,” Veronica whispered.

  “We’ll meet him,” Nathan said. “And I’ll make sure your apartment’s secure this time.”

  “Stay with me,” she pleaded, burying her face in his chest.

  “Don’t worry.” He threaded his fingers in her hair. “I’m not going to leave you, Veronica.”

  Not ever.

  Nathan knew the silent vow was a mistake, but he could no more stop himself than he could push Veronica away and let someone else take her case. That would be the smart thing to do. He was definitely too involved. But he would not leave her until he figured out who was trying to hurt her.

  And then—he would leave her only if she asked him to.

  Her soft body sagged against him, and within minutes he felt the tension drain from her as she relaxed in his arms. She was safe. He knew it now, but he couldn’t erase the heart-pounding fear he’d experienced when she hadn’t answered the phone. Her firm breasts were pressed against his chest, and the whisper of her breath on his neck had him clinging to her. He’d been scared out of his mind on the way over, imagining all sorts of things that could have happened to her. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled her sweet scent, oblivious to his vow to remain professional.

  He needed the reassurance. He needed to know she was safe. And dammit, he needed to hold her as much as she needed to be held.

  The blue-and-white rolled up, and he pulled away from Veronica only long enough to give them orders. “I’m taking her home. Be sure to fingerprint the car and the knife. Check the bloodstains for type and bag it all for evidence.” He lowered his voice. “I’m going to catch this bastard.”

  The officers nodded and set to work while he climbed in the car. Veronica looked pale, but she’d composed herself and he glimpsed the courage she’d drawn from all her life. The ride back to her house was silent and filled with tension. He didn’t force her to talk, and he realized he needed the time to gather his own thoughts. He’d been frightened. When he’d seen she was safe, he’d wanted to lavish her with kisses and hugs and tear off her clothes, sate his need for her right there in the parking lot. Damn. He’d never felt this way before.

  Gathering his calm, he parked, hopped out and went around to the passenger side. She was already climbing out. The locksmith was waiting. Nathan watched the man work while Veronica excused herself. He heard the shower running and imagined her standing naked under the spray of water. He desperately wished he could join her. But he had to make certain the apartment was secure.

  And he needed to give Veronica time. He wanted her to be sure she wanted him, not just a warm, comforting body. Because once he took her, she was going to be his.

  Forever.

  It couldn’t be any other way. Not with Veronica.

  “Finished,” the man said.

  Nathan paid him and checked the dead bolts, then called for a pizza and found a bottle of wine in Veronica’s cabinet. Making himself at home, he pulled two glasses from the cabinet and poured them nearly full. When the pizza arrived, he paid for it and put it in the oven to stay warm.

  Then he settled on the couch with the wine and sipped, thinking of how he’d have to be patient with Veronica. She was a classy woman, an attorney, not a rough-and-tumble sort of woman. If he took her like some macho, needy jerk, he’d scare her to death. He’d have to go slow, to be tender, to make sure his rough callused hands did nothing but pleasure her. Yes, he would take it slow. He would pleasure her before he found his release. Even if it killed him.

  Then he would do it over and over and over again until she begged for him to take her one more time.

  The fire in his body intensified when she came out wearing a short silky robe. Water droplets lingered in the curve of her breasts and were much too tempting for him to resist. And the bravado she showed made his chest tighten with a feeling he was too afraid to label. He stood, closing the distance between them, until he held her with his legs spread wide, and her delicate body was wedged so close to him he could feel her breath on his neck.

  “Veronica, I—”

  “Shh,” she whispered as she pressed two fingers to his lips. She took the wineglass from him and ran her tongue gingerly around the edge, then brought the clear liquid to her mouth. He watched her inhale the sweet scent of the wine, saw the pleasure it gave her the moment it touched her tongue, and saw the urgent need reflected in her eyes when she licked her lips and swallowed. The curve of her throat was so pale, so enticing, and his body ached with a need only Veronica could satisfy.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head slowly and the soft sway of her long tresses tumbling around her shoulders sent waves of desire thrumming through him. He looked toward the window where the gray sky had begun showering the earth with light snowflakes.

  “It’s snowing,” he said in an effort to divert his mind.

  “It’s beautiful,” Veronica whispered, not once tearing her gaze from his.

  “No, you are.”

  A slow smile spread on her mouth. The hunger in his body grew at the sight. Veronica finger combed a lock of his hair off his forehead, and the shy gesture seemed so intimate he knew he could never let her go. Even if she wanted him to.

  “I was so worried about you,” he finally said.

  She closed her eyes and leaned against him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m okay now. As long as you’re here.”

  He wound a strand of her beautiful hair around his finger, resisting the temptation to dig his fingers in the long locks. His chest ached with the fear he’d felt earlier. He needed to forget his own needs, though, and take care of her. “Are you hungry?”

  He felt her soft laughter against his chest.

  “I meant for food. There’s a pizza in the oven.”

  She looked into his eyes, her face serious. “Do you always take care of your…cases so well?”

  He swallowed against the sudden rise of emotion in his throat. “You’re more than a case and you know it.”

  Her gaze locked with his. Then she smiled, slow and sweet, and spoke so softly he could barely hear her. “I think we’d better have the pizza.”

  He laughed and hand in hand they walked to the kitchen. He carried their wine and she took their plates to the den where they sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table. As Veronica sank her teeth into the gooey cheese, he ate his own slice, barely tasting the rich sauce. She smiled and licked her fingertips, and he sipped his wine, his heart hammering in his chest.

  “This is nice,” Veronica said quietly.

  “What? The pizza?”

  “No, being here…with you. Just relaxing.” She ran her finger along the rim of her glass, and he downed his wine. “It feels so normal, so peaceful.”

  He tipped her chin up with his thumb and wiped a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “It’s okay to feel that way. Things have been difficult for you.”

  She shook her head. “It seems my whole life has been hard.”

  He forced her to look into his eyes. “It won’t be forever, Veronica. I promise you.” He wanted to reassure her, to let her know she had solace from her troubles for a while. But when he lowered his mouth and tasted the tangy wine mixed with Veronica’s sweetness, with her strength and determination, he knew he was taking more than he was giving. He needed her courage, her strength, her soft womanly way of facing things and still managing to have a sweet vulnerability about her. S
omething he’d lost on the force. Something no one could give him but her.

  “Veronica, I need you,” he said softly.

  She cupped his face with her hands and he felt her nod against his chest. Her arms slipped around his waist and she hugged him, ever so gently, then ran her hands up his back and held on to him. She felt so right, so perfect in his arms.

  His resolve broke. He captured her mouth in a kiss, his lips devouring everything she offered, his mind a million miles from work. His soul floated in a space it had never been before, mingling and joining with her every breath.

  Then she inhaled and the soft curve of her breasts swelled, her nipples pushing taut against the silky fabric, and he grabbed her to him with a need that he could longer hide or deny. “Veronica, if you want me to stop—”

  “I don’t.”

  Relieved, he frantically lowered his head and ravished her sweetness, inhaled the soft scent of her soap and tasted the wine and the need in her own urgent mouth as she opened for him. She grasped at his arms and he felt his muscles clench at her seeking hands. Her mouth felt warm and inviting and he plundered the inside with his tongue until her own tongue met his in slow uninhibited thrusts. He nibbled at her lower lip and drove his lower body against hers, crushing her breasts against the fabric of his blue denim shirt and rubbing his hands up and down her back and down to the soft curve of her hips.

  “Veronica, I—”

  “Don’t talk,” she whispered. “It feels too good.”

  It felt like heaven and hell all mixed together as he tortured himself by trying to hold back. Then she dug her fingernails into his back, and he lost control. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to the bedroom, kicking off his shoes as he went, nibbling at her neck and the soft shell of her ear until she writhed in his arms and tugged at his shirt. She pulled it loose and covered his chest with the palms of her hands, raking her fingernails across his hard nipples until he thought he was going to burst from the pleasure.

  Still, he forced himself to pause, to drink in the moment when he would see her naked before him. She kicked off her shoes, and he grinned. Easing her to the floor, he met her gaze and read the urgent hunger, and his vow to go slow evaporated like ice on a hot August day. He shoved her robe aside, revealing the creamy mounds of her full breasts, and she moaned and pushed his own shirt over his shoulders, smiling wickedly when it dropped to the floor.