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His Arch Enemy's Daughter
Crystal Green
SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY?Rebellious socialite Ashlyn Spencer craved family love. Failing that, she made high jinks a habit to undermine her clan's crippling tyranny. Which meant Kane's Crossing's new sheriff–gruff, growly Sam Reno–had his hands full with his fiercest foe's wayward daughter. Although the Fates were against them, virginal Ashlyn relished keeping Sheriff Sam on his toes and secretly ached for the brooding, blue-collar lawman.Despite Ashlyn's spitfire charm, sweetheart smile and hidden hurts, she was strictly forbidden fruit in Sam's book. Still, she saucily sidled past his own bitter defenses, melted his jaded heart–even inspired images of making giggling, gurgling babies. But dare Sam forget the sinister crimes committed by the Spencers…and wed his effervescent enemy?
“Well, Sheriff Reno, I think you’ll find that the word nice doesn’t exactly apply to me,” Ashlyn admitted.
He looked at her, his eyes boring into her soul.
Ashlyn allowed her own gaze to skim over the sheriff’s hard body. Maybe being arrested by this lawman wouldn’t be such a horrible thing.
She grinned, her heart beating a little faster. Wouldn’t her rich father kill her if she got involved with blue-collar Sam Reno, foster brother of the man who’d nearly ruined her family?
Then again, Sam Reno had his own powerful reasons for hating her kin.
And he probably would arrest her if he could read her thoughts….
Dear Reader,
Spring is a time for new beginnings. And as you step out to enjoy the spring sunshine, I’d like to introduce a new author to Silhouette Special Edition. Her name is Judy Duarte, and her novel Cowboy Courage tells the heartwarming story of a runaway heiress who finds shelter in the strong arms of a handsome—yet guarded—cowboy. Don’t miss this brilliant debut!
Next, we have the new installment in Susan Mallery’s DESERT ROGUES miniseries. In The Sheik & the Virgin Princess, a beautiful princess goes in search of her long-lost royal father, and on her quest falls in love with her heart-meltingly gorgeous bodyguard! And love proves to be the irresistible icing in this adorable tale by Patricia Coughlin, The Cupcake Queen. Here, a lovable heroine turns her hero’s life into a virtual beehive. But Cupid’s arrow does get the final—er—sting!
I’m delighted to bring you Crystal Green’s His Arch Enemy’s Daughter, the next story in her poignant miniseries KANE’S CROSSING. When a rugged sheriff falls for the wrong woman, he has to choose between revenge and love. Add to the month Pat Warren’s exciting new two-in-one, My Very Own Millionaire—two fabulous romances in one novel about confirmed bachelors who finally find the women of their dreams! Lastly, there is no shortage of gripping emotion (or tears!) in Lois Faye Dyer’s Cattleman’s Bride-To-Be, where long-lost lovers must reunite to save the life of a little girl. As they fight the medical odds, this hero and heroine find that passion—and soul-searing love—never die….
I’m so happy to present these first fruits of spring. I hope you enjoy this month’s lineup and come back for next month’s moving stories about life, love and family!
Best,
Karen Taylor Richman
Senior Editor
His Arch Enemy’s Daughter
Crystal Green
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Tonya: You were one of Earth’s brightest angels.
We miss you.
CRYSTAL GREEN
lives in San Diego, California, where she has survived three years as an eighth-grade teacher of Humanities. She’s especially proud of her college-bound AVID (Advancement Via Individual Determination) students who have inspired her to persevere.
When Crystal isn’t writing romances, she enjoys reading, creating poetry, overanalyzing movies, risking her life during police ride-alongs, petting her parents’ Maltese dogs and fantasizing about being a really good cook.
During school breaks, Crystal spends her time becoming readdicted to her favorite soap operas and traveling to places far and wide. Her favorite souvenirs include travel journals—the pages reflecting everything from taking tea in London’s Leicester Square to backpacking up endless mountain roads leading to the castles of Sintra, Portugal.
THE KANE’S CROSSING GAZETTE
Spencer Socialite Meets Her Match?
by Verna Loquacious, Town Observer
Greetings from your friendly neighborhood grapevine!
Though our cozy hamlet has suffered from a dry spell as of late, I believe I’ve come upon a veritable sea of gossip.
Ashlyn Spencer, great-great-great-granddaughter of our beloved town founder, Kane Spencer, has been seen on the arm of the new sheriff, Sam Reno. Now, I have to tell you, I’m a tad stunned by this news. For those of you who haven’t been keeping up with current—or even ancient—events, Sheriff Reno grew up in these parts, and has recently returned to reunite with his foster brother, Nick Cassidy.
There’s been a flood of bad blood between those rich-as-Croesus Spencers and the blue-collar Renos, especially after the factory accident—the one that killed poor Sam’s father, bless his soul.
Land sakes, you’d think our socialite Spencer wouldn’t dare disappoint Daddy by dating the low-born Sheriff Reno. But, like you, folks, I do love a good star-crossed tale….
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Ashlyn Spencer was in a real fix this time.
“Emma, why don’t you put away that shotgun?” she asked while backing out of the insect-buzzed porch light and into the shadows. She felt erased, almost safe in the darkness cast by Mrs. Trainor’s roof.
The older woman’s outline didn’t budge from the screened door. “I’ll be darned if you play any April Fool’s jokes on Trainor property, Miss Spencer. You, me and my sawed-off friend will wait right here until the sheriff comes.”
Ashlyn wanted to speak up in her defense, to tell Emma that she wasn’t playing any pranks tonight—hadn’t played any for a long time now. In fact, this bundle of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills she held in her hand was sticking to her palm with the urgency of a cat clinging to a curtain for safety.
Right about now, they were all victims of worst-case-scenario shotgun nightmares.
“Emma, I—”
A deep voice rumbled over her protestations. “Lower your gun, Emma.”
Ashlyn could hear the woman’s sigh of relief, even through a screen mashed with Kentucky flies and a trace of dandelion down.
The sheriff and his boots thumped their way up the stairs, onto the porch. “You put that firearm away, Emma?”
A heavy clicking sound from behind the older woman’s door made Ashlyn start from her hiding place. Was Emma Trainor cocking the gun?
Ashlyn jolted backward and smashed right into the new sheriff, his chest as broad and as hard as a wall. Not literally, but it felt like so many hard bricks piled together—enough to make her see stars.
She turned to him, blinking, the towering shadow of the sheriff’s body eclipsing the moonlight with a heavy jacket. The stars blurring her sight settled into one dull glint on his broad chest. A lifeless, silvery badge.
Fleeting images of Sheriff Carson, the old law of Kane’s Crossing, flashed through her mind. He’d liked to give her a hard time for the way she’d run around town, getting into her share of mischief. And her father had paid the sheriff well to keep his daughter in line.
But Sheriff Carson had passed away a short time ago, and a new lawman had taken his place just last month. A man who’d been appointed by the prominent citizens of Kane’s Crossing.
Sam Reno had returned to town. The same man who’d been the object of Ashlyn’s star-in-the-eyes fantasies, her Teen Beat dreams.
She gulped and subtly tried to stand behind him, just in case Emma was aiming in her direction.
The other woman stepped onto the porch, and Ashlyn felt her face heat up when she realized that the “click” had merely been the screened door opening.
Emma nodded to the sheriff. “Thanks for answering so fast. I heard an intruder out here and found Ashlyn Spencer lurking around my door.”
Ashlyn hid her hands behind her back, hoping no one had seen the money, hoping no one would suspect that she was up to good for a change.
Sheriff Reno placed his hands on his lean hips, his silhouette dark against the moon’s silver light. “You’re going to get someone killed with your weaponry, Emma. Now, I know better than anyone that you want your protection, but pumping bullets into the town socialite won’t rid the world of evil. I’d hate to take you in for that.”
Ashlyn felt the sheriff shoot her a glance, but she bit her tongue, determined to let them think what they would about her reasons for being here.
Emma stuck her fists into the pockets of her oversize jeans. “Sorry, Sam. I didn’t even have a gun. Had to use a fire poker. The girl scared me, sneaking around like she was, creaking my porch boards.”
Truth be told, Ashlyn wished she hadn’t frightened Mrs. Trainor. The woman had suffered enough pain in her life, what, with her husband dying in the same factory accident that had killed Sam Reno’s own father. And she felt partly responsible, too, because it was her family’s factory. Her family’s responsibility—one that they’d never owned up to.
Sheriff Reno took a step forward into the faint porch light, affording Ashlyn a better vantage point.
He had the corded strength of a Remington sculpture, all rough edges and darkness. His clipped brown hair barely brushed his jacket collar, and it was longer on top, falling to just above his stern brow. The fullness of his lower lip gave her heart a lurch, and it wasn’t because he was frowning.
He shook his head, his voice as low and as dry as an endless stretch of desert road. “Well, I guess you can’t do a whole lot of damage with a phantom arsenal.”
A few more steps brought him closer to Emma. Softly, he asked, “How’re you doing?”
The older woman’s lips trembled, and Ashlyn had to avert her glance.
“As well as can be expected. Janey’s still in the hospital, for as long as the money’ll keep her there.”
Ashlyn tightened her grip on the hundred-dollar bills and looked up.
Sam Reno cupped his long fingers under the woman’s jaw, making Ashlyn’s throat ache. His touch was so gentle, so sympathetic, like a physical connection between two survivors who’d lost everything.
She felt invisible, surrounded by the darkness of cave walls, blocking her from the rest of humanity. Dank, lonely, so dark…
Ashlyn washed her mind of those thoughts. She needed to forget about the cave, about the scared seven-year-old girl who’d lived under the banner of town disapproval for so long.
But how could she forget that her family had caused such pain?
Unthinkingly, she cleared her throat, wanting to slap herself when it broke the moment between Emma and the sheriff. He turned to her, a glower of displeasure clearly marking his face.
“What the hell were you doing creeping around here in the dead of night?” he asked.
She tried to shine her most innocent smile, but it didn’t quite hold. “I’ll have to plead the Fifth on that.”
His gaze had focused on her hands, folded behind her back very suspiciously. “Drop it.”
That voice—so low, so cold, so deadly serious.
Maybe he thought she was packing her own heat. Heck, if one-hundred-dollar bills were bullets, she’d be absolutely riddled with holes.
She’d give anything for nobody to know what she’d intended to do with the money. Nobody had the right to know.
However, the sheriff’s fingers had tensed near his holster, the one with the gun in it.
Ashlyn dropped the wad of money and held her hands in the air, shrugging as she did so. “Whoops.”
“Yeah, whoops.”
He stepped near her, brushing her sweater with his jacket. As he retrieved the bundle of bills, she shivered, probably because the April night had a sudden warm thrill to it.
He moved in front of her and held up the money. “This should be an interesting explanation.”
Emma Trainor’s jaw almost hit the floorboards. Why was she so shocked? Was it so unthinkable that Ashlyn would want to help someone in their time of need?
Well, now she’d have to explain. Unless, of course, she desired an all-expense-paid trip to the sheriff’s office.
Actually, she thought, if Sheriff Sam was doing the driving, it didn’t sound all that bad.
