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Lovers Only
Christine Pacheco
Praise for Christine Pacheco (#u3a4083f4-2b5c-5333-aa2a-dcce4a0d8ee8)Letter to Reader (#ua46a9ff1-67b2-5a69-8362-f989c1a1e16c)About the Author (#uff841b24-da09-54a9-bba9-ecc8003d2e59)Title Page (#u2e1b7bd9-e6bd-513e-a823-0b12c07c3a7b)Dedication (#u5ee6f6a9-104e-540d-bcb5-da1b3b1cbf15)Chapter One (#u9845fa29-3250-59cc-b898-1f8e331710d9)Chapter Two (#u7949d97f-1757-54c8-90f2-743bef735895)Chapter Three (#uf6eb7bb4-d979-544e-ab2f-c8f681fa9141)Chapter Four (#u30666713-02fe-5e63-8f4b-57c3281f17fe)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)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Praise for Christine Pacheco
“Reading Chris Pacheco is like sitting in a balmy breeze under a banyan tree and savoring your favorite drink. Her books take me away to my favorite escape. She’s sure to please.”
—Bestselling author Debbie Macomber
“A sure delight!”
—Bestselling writer Barbara Boswell
“I Carried My Bride Across The Threshold,”
Clay said softly.
Cat’s breath seemed frozen.
“I need to give her a kiss to welcome her home. Slow and soft, Cat? Or with the passion that built inside me during the months you weren’t in my house, the months you weren’t in my bed?”
Her mind ordered her to run. Her heart held her firmly in place.
“It’s your choice. But know one thing. I’m going to kiss you. And it won’t be a kiss you’ll forget anytime soon.”
Dear Reader,
Happy Valentine’s Day! This season of love is so exciting for us here at Silhouette Desire that we decided to create a special cover treatment for each of this month’s love stories—just to show how much this very romantic holiday means to us.
And what a fabulous group of books we have for you! Let’s start with Joan Elliott Pickart’s MAN OF THE MONTH, Texas Moon. It’s romantic and wonderful—and has a terrific hero!
The romance continues with Cindy Gerard’s sensuous A Bride for Abel Greene, the next in her NORTHERN LIGHTS BRIDES series, and also with Elizabeth Bevarly’s Roxy and the Rich Man, which launches her new miniseries about siblings who were separated at birth, THE FAMILY McCORMICK.
Christine Pacheco is up next with Lovers Only, an emotional and compelling reunion story. And Metsy Hingle’s dramatic writing style shines through in her latest, Lovechild.
It’s always a special moment when a writer reaches her 25the book milestone—and that’s just what Rita Rainville has done in the humorous and delightful Western. City Girls Need Not Apply.
Silhouette Desire—where you will always find the very best love stories! Enjoy them all....
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Readar Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609. Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
About the Author
CHRISTINE PACHECO considers herself lucky to have married her real-life hero, Jared. They live in Colorado with their two children, a boy and a girl.
Christine remembers always wanting to be a writer. She even talked her elementary school librarian into publishing her books. She notes always preferring romances because they’re about that special moment when dreams are possible and the future is magical.
You can write to Christine at P.O. Box 448, Eastlake, CO 80614.
Lovers Only
Christine Pacheco
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my mother, whose belief in me was real and tangible. Mom, my heartfelt thanks for helping me believe I could achieve my dreams.
And for Whitney and Raymond, you two are special gifts! Of course, Jared, this is for you, too. Whatever I am, it’s because of your support.
One
Ripping paper broke the silence.
In stunned amazement, Catherine looked across at Clay. No one breathed. No one spoke.
Catherine’s heartbeat tripled its already fast tempo, and a lump lodged in her throat. Oh, Lord. Not now. Not now when things were so very close to being over.
Freedom hovered just moments beyond her reach.
Jagged legal documents fluttered to the floor.
Clay slammed his fist on the shiny cherry-wood conference table, marring the perfect gloss.
Catherine jumped. Couldn’t find a word.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Clay clipped, rising to his feet in a single, fluid motion. His hands gripped the table’s edge, and his body radiated tension.
Catherine’s shoulders sagged.
“Now see here, Mr. Landon—” her attorney began.
“No,” Clay interrupted softly. Dangerously.
How many times in the past years had Catherine heard that tone? Not as often as in the early part of their marriage, but enough to recognize the careful control with which he held his anger in check.
“No,” he repeated. “You see here. Catherine is still my wife.” With that, he broke gazes with her attorney and fixed glacial blue eyes on her—the opponent.
She shivered, despite the sun streaming through the window.
For a moment she thought she detected a softening in Clay’s expression. And something more. Perhaps a hint of hurt?
No, that wasn’t possible.
She and Clay had lost the ability to hurt each other three years ago. Catherine remembered it well. It had happened at the exact same time they’d lost their ability to communicate and share.
“She won’t be married to you for much longer,” Kevin Dobson insisted.
When Clay turned his attention to Catherine’s attorney again, the older man pulled a starched handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow.
“I want to talk to my wife. Privately.”
“Clay,” Jack Simmons said. “This really isn’t the time.”
“Out!” he ordered his own attorney.
Catherine felt the heat of their stares fasten on her, one by one. First her attorney. Then Clay’s attorney. Finally, Clay himself.
Beneath the table she twisted her fingers together, absently reaching for the missing wedding ring...the ring Clay had gently slipped onto her hand as he’d solemnly promised to love and cherish her forever.
The same ring she’d shed when he’d broken that vow. The same ring that now rested, by itself, at the bottom of her jewelry box.
“Five minutes, Cat.”
The raw-edged intensity in his tone skittered across her nerves.
“Isn’t what we had worth five minutes to you?”
She remembered the way he’d raised her hand to his lips, making the preacher pause. She swore she still felt the warmth that had rushed through her at that moment, when she’d believed she and Clay would truly grow together, have a family together, become old together....
“Out, Jack. And take Dobson with you.”
“This is highly unusual,” Kevin Dobson protested.
In less time than it took her frantic heart to beat half a dozen times, Clay had moved, coming around to her side of the table. With the toe of his cowboy boot he pushed back her chair.
When his fingers found her shoulders, she looked up, trying to gauge emotions carefully cloaked behind his unreadable blue eyes.
“Call him off, Cat.”
With slow and gentle, yet inexorable pressure, Clay drew her to her feet. Then he pulled her closer to him. She could have resisted. Part of her mind screamed at her to resist. But she didn’t.
There was something so right, so elementally right and basic about being in his arms again. It had been so long....
Illogically, a frisson of excitement took hold. He was acting as if she was special, just like the Clay she’d fallen in Jove with so many years ago. Catherine forced herself to remember that it was the man he’d become she was divorcing.
She looked up. His eyes didn’t seem so glacial. Nor did they contain the heat that they might once have had when he held her.
“Cat, talk to me. Tell them to get out. Please,” Clay said quietly.
The warmth of his breath on her cheek stirred Catherine’s starving senses, along with memories—memories of cool Colorado nights and Clay’s masculinity to keep her warm and secure.
“It’s okay,” she finally said, looking sideways toward Dobson—away from her husband.
Dobson checked his watch. “Really, Mrs. Landon, this isn’t the way things are done,” he protested a second time.
Clay’s grip tightened.
From experience she knew it was better to face the storm, brave it out and then let it blow over.
If Clay wanted five minutes, she would give it to him. And then close the door behind her, never to look back.
Besides, knowing Clay, he would stand here and argue the point for five minutes and win, anyway. Giving in now meant victory in the end. Victory in the form of freedom.
“Give us five minutes, Mr. Dobson.”
He wiped his brow again, then checked his watch. “Five minutes, Mrs. Landon. I do have other clients, you know.”
The door closed behind the two lawyers. She and Clay were alone for the first time since she’d moved out of their home several months ago.
In spite of everything, she attempted a grin. “He acts as though he’s paying me,” Catherine said.
Clay didn’t smile in return.
If anything, his expression had darkened. The storm hadn’t diminished, it had intensified.
Her smile fled. She knotted her hands into fists, fingernails cutting into her palms.
“Okay, Clay, you won.” Catherine let out a long breath, then said, “Talk.”
“We haven’t done much of that, have we?”
“Don’t,” she protested, wedging one of her clenched hands between them in a desperate attempt to gain some space. “It’s a little late for regrets.”
He shook his head; a renegade lock of hair drooped over his forehead. Instantly years and experience were erased from his features. If only pain could be vanquished so easily....
“I was serious. I’ve changed my mind about giving you a divorce, Cat.”
Her pounding heart stopped. He couldn’t mean it. Not at this stage.
He began to move his fingers in a light caress.
Her heart resumed pounding.
Catherine forced herself to drink a deep breath of air and hold it for a few seconds. “You can’t prevent me from divorcing you, Clay. These are the nineties.”
“I know,” he said, voice barely over a whisper, making her strain in order to hear his words. “But I can make life hell for you.”
Her own anger surged to the surface, red-hot and blazing. “Are you threatening me?”
“No.”
