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Love's Nine Lives
Cara/Cassidy Colter/Caron
HE HARDLY KNEW HER, BUT HE ALREADY WANTED TO BE A BETTER MAN….She made rugged contractor Justin West believe he existed only to protect those more fragile than himself. And that, more than anything, told him Bridget Daisy was trouble. Justin had experienced enough heartache to make him unwilling to settle down anytime soon. And the lovely librarian exemplified commitment–from her copper-colored bun to her big orange cat, who saw no room for another male in Bridget's life. Justin couldn't agree more. So he vowed to stop thinking of her eyes, and lips and his hands in her hair. He would be a perfect gentleman.There was only one problem. He had never been a gentleman.
He was having the unfortunate and powerful effect of making Bridget completely addled.
Which she’d been from the moment she’d opened her door, looked way up and seen him push his fingers through the chocolate silk of his hair. His eyes had been mesmerizing—a mix of gold and green, with a light burning in them that even she could see was frank male appreciation.
The light had said Justin didn’t see her as little Miss Librarian, despite the severity of her hairdo and the straight lines of her skirt. Somehow he had seen through all that as if it was nothing more than a disguise—a role she played. He had seen her as a woman and something shockingly primal in her had answered back.
Which was dreadful, of course. Because it went without saying that he was the kind of man she absolutely loathed.
Dear Reader,
Whether you’re enjoying one of the first snowfalls of the season or lounging in a beach chair at some plush island resort, I hope you’ve got some great books by your side. I’m especially excited about the Silhouette Romance titles this month as we’re kicking off 2006 with two great new miniseries by some of your all-time favorite authors.
Cara Colter teams up with her daughter, Cassidy Caron, to launch our new PERPETUALLY YOURS trilogy. In Love’s Nine Lives (#1798) a beautiful librarian’s extremely possessive tabby tries to thwart a budding romance between his mistress and a man who seems all wrong for her but is anything but. Teresa Southwick returns with That Touch of Pink (#1799)—the first in her BUY-A-GUY trilogy. When a single mom literally buys a former military man at a bachelor auction to help her daughter earn a wilderness badge, she gets a lot more than she bargained for…and is soon earning points toward her own romantic survival badge. Old sparks turn into an all-out blaze when the hero returns to the family ranch in Sometimes When We Kiss (#1800) by Linda Goodnight. Finally, Elise Mayr debuts with The Rancher’s Redemption (#1801) in which a widow, desperate to help her sick daughter, throws herself on the mercy of her commanding brother-in-law whose eyes reflect anything but the hate she’d expected.
And be sure to come back next month for more great reading, with Sandra Paul’s distinctive addition to the PERPETUALLY YOURS trilogy and Judy Christenberry’s new madcap mystery.
Have a very happy and healthy 2006.
Ann Leslie Tuttle
Associate Senior Editor
Love’s Nine Lives
Perpetually Yours
Cara Colter
Cassidy Caron
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This one is for Hunter.
Without you, this book, and so much more,
would not be possible.
Thank you for all the lessons and laughter.
Who knew so much joy could come from one small being?
Books by Cara Colter
Silhouette Romance
Dare To Dream #491
Baby in Blue #1161
Husband in Red #1243
The Cowboy, the Baby and the Bride-To-Be #1319
Truly Daddy #1363
A Bride Worth Waiting For #1388
Weddings Do Come True #1406
A Babe in the Woods #1424
A Royal Marriage #1440
First Time, Forever #1464
* (#litres_trial_promo) Husband by Inheritance #1532
* (#litres_trial_promo) The Heiress Takes a Husband #1538
* (#litres_trial_promo) Wed by a Will #1544
What Child Is This? #1585
Her Royal Husband #1600
9 Out of 10 Women Can’t Be Wrong #1615
Guess Who’s Coming for Christmas? #1632
What a Woman Should Know #1685
Major Daddy #1710
Her Second-Chance Man #1726
Nighttime Sweethearts #1754
Love’s Nine Lives #1798
Silhouette Books
The Coltons
A Hasty Wedding
CARA COLTER
shares her life with the man of her dreams, her spirited teenage daughter, Cassidy Caron, several spotted horses and a fiery orange tabby cat. Her perfect day includes writing, riding and reading. Cara has weaknesses for Tim Horton’s iced cappuccino (a true Canadian pleasure), English toffee coffee and high-quality chocolate (the only known remedy for writer’s block). Working with her daughter to create this story was one of the most gratifying experiences of her career.
CASSIDY CARON
Eighteen-year-old high school student Cass Caron has been an extraordinary explorer of the Canadian wilderness. She has participated in grueling back-country treks, horse-pack trips and fly-in adventures. Cass has sold articles to outdoor publications, trained horses and worked in an orchard. She loves cats and is frequently inspired by them. Her dreams for her future include a high-action outdoor career and a man who cooks!
Contents
Chapter One (#u7d916c75-78fd-53ac-9065-1a3d40897fa9)
Chapter Two (#u40f3b57d-8158-5d6c-b9c9-7a573128d8b9)
Chapter Three (#uada4d017-8e86-5ac9-894f-38ce19af4c11)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
“Conan, please.”
He curled his tail more tightly around his body and squinched his eyes shut, feigning sleep. Unless she was offering sautеed shrimp, she could forget it.
“Conan, just try one little bite.”
Something disgusting was wafted in front of his nose.
Diet cat treats. Ha, as if the words diet and treat could be used successfully together. He opened one eye, glared at his mistress and then snapped it shut again.
“Conan, you know what the vet said. You are a tiny bit overweight.”
The vet was a horrible old man who smelled overwhelmingly of dogs. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the good doctor’s body odor and breath gave away an even more treacherous secret: vegetarian.
The veterinarian was a dog-loving vegetarian, and she was going to take diet advice from him? The man knew nothing about the delicacies of dealing with a cat, that had been obvious.
He heard his mistress walk away, so Conan opened one eye, placing an orange-colored paw carefully over it so he could watch her unobserved.
He felt momentarily contrite. Her copper-colored hair, usually so neatly put back into a bun, was hanging loose around her face. Her green eyes were wide with worry, and there was a wrinkle in her normally unblemished forehead. She was still in her pajamas, something unheard of, even if it was Sunday morning.
She was obviously distressed, and it made Conan realize that she really was not as confident or mature as her primly done hair and straight-lined business suits suggested. Really he was partly to blame for that visit to the vet.
Okay, fully to blame. He’d been a free-roaming tabby his entire sorry life, until he’d found himself in lockup and had been rescued by her late last fall.
At first he thought he must have used up his ninth life, even though he’d been counting pretty carefully and thought he was only on seven. For it had seemed, after being adopted from the Hunter’s Corner Pet Shelter, that he must have died and gone to heaven!
Miss Bridget Daisy was one of the few people he’d ever met who really deserved to own a cat. First the name: Conan. Celtic for “mighty one,” she’d explained to him after days of making lists and debating over just the right name. Really, what could have been more suiting? The mighty one. Perfect.
And then the food! She was constantly delighting him: roasted chicken livers, succulent steak bits and his all-time favorite, sautеed shrimp.
Okay, okay, things were not perfect, even in heaven. When winter had come she had presented him with a sweater with his name on it. And a horrid little hat. A guy should have had way more pride, but he had a weakness for the shrimp. Miss Daisy might look innocent, but she knew how to play a guy’s weaknesses.
Right now, having been shrimp-deprived for three whole days, he’d probably wear a tutu for one small morsel of seafood, any variety.
But the biggest problem with coming home to Miss Daisy hadn’t been the clothes, as humiliating as they were. No, it had been the fact that she wouldn’t let him outside without a leash. A leash! Of course, in the winter, who wanted to go outside anyway? Winters were made for snoozing on the couch. But spring changed everything…
Which brought him to the visit with Dr. Veggie, the vet.
Conan had been perched in one of his favorite places—on the back of her couch—minding his own business, really.
And then the bird had landed at the feeder, a location that had seen dismally little traffic over the winter but was looking more promising now. The front-yard feeder was shaped like a little house, with shutters and cute signs all over it that said things like Open for Business and Birds Welcome. As if birds could read! The expression birdbrained had not manifested out of thin air.
The bird at the feeder had been a purple finch, something Conan adored even more than shrimp, if that was possible. He felt finch had the most delectable flavor—slightly wild and faintly smoky with just a touch of bitter aftertaste, probably from the feathers.
In no time at all, focused with hunter intensity on the bird, Conan had totally forgotten the window. He had gone into a crouch, his tail switching, his eyes narrowed on the prey. He’d waited, knowing the bird would make a mistake, land on the ground, greedy thing, wanting that one more tiny seed….
There it was. His moment. Even as he’d launched himself, he’d heard her voice in the background.
“Conaaaan, nooooo!”
Too late.
He’d bounced back off that window as if he was a tennis ball spiked from a racket and lay on the floor dazed, blood—important blood, his—splattering the carpet around him.
Hence the unfortunate meeting with Dr. Veggie, a white-haired antiquity with more wrinkles and creases than that Shar-Pei monstrosity Conan had been forced to share the waiting room with. Conan had hated the little winter balaclava Miss Daisy had made for him, but he hated this more—his whole head wound with white tape, his ears poking through two holes in the top, his face completely surrounded in white as if he were a nun wearing a wimple.
It was horrible. And was there a little sautеed shrimp to help him through his most humiliating moment? No, there was not.
Because the evil dog lover had pronounced him overweight. Nothing so scientific as a scale either. Just prodding with those poochie-smelling fingers that had been God knew where else that morning!
Miss Daisy could be counted on to be thorough, though. She had taken him home and put him on her bathroom scale. He should have known her gasp of dismay did not bode well for his culinary endeavors. She had actually thought the scale wasn’t working.
“Twenty-six pounds! Conan, I don’t think that’s possible.”
Of course it wasn’t possible. He was a little portly, not fat. It was not at all his fault. His mother had also been big-boned.
