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Forbidden Lover
Amanda Stevens
Get ready for a new brand of justice… Born to a legacy of lawman, three brothers sworn to serve and protect will safeguard the women they love.GALLAGHER JUSTICEThe feud between the Gallaghers and the O'Roarkes had raged for generations. And Detective Nick Gallagher would do whatever it took to keep his father's killer–a hated O'Roarke–in prison. Even commandeer the assistance of the beautiful Dr. Erin Casey–with or without her consent!Erin had almost forgotten her secret past–until Nick's demands put her in the spotlight. When threats forced her into Nick's protection, Erin knew time was running out. Even as his hard body and sky-blue eyes awoke her deepest passions, Erin tried to resist Nick's talk of the future. Because Nick would soon know he was falling for the daughter of his bitterest enemy…
The temptation of being too close
Erin sat staring into the fire, her features soft and fragile in the flickering light. She reminded Nick of a painting he’d once seen—pale, innocent, with an almost mystical aura. But unmistakably woman.
Another time, he would have leaned over and kissed her. He would have taken his time, tasting her delicate lips, loosening her hair until it fell wantonly down her back. He would have touched her all over, whispered what he wanted to do to her….
He let the fantasy spin away with no small regret, and turned his attention back to the darkness outside the cabin. A murderer was out there waiting, and since Nick had been the one to drag Erin into this mess, it was his duty to protect her, not to seduce her.
But Nick knew that one sometimes led almost inevitably to the other….
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
This month, some of your favorite Harlequin Intrigue authors—and a first-timer—deliver a killer selection of books for you to enjoy.
Amanda Stevens closes the case in the final installment of her GALLAGHER JUSTICE miniseries with Nick Gallagher’s story, Forbidden Lover (#557). The Gallagher brothers were born to serve and protect, and three more sexy lawmen you’d be hard-pressed to find. If you missed the first two books, be sure to let us know!
In her twentieth 43 LIGHT STREET title, Ruth Glick writing as Rebecca York scorches some paper with Never Too Late (#558), the steamy story of Scott O’Donnell and Mariana Reyes. Harlequin Intrigue is proud to bring you this terrific ongoing series and we thank you for making it one of our most popular features.
Also, this month, Patricia Rosemoor—Harlequin Intrigue’s most-published author—launches her very own miniseries, SONS OF SILVER SPRINGS. Sometimes it takes a family tragedy to bring siblings back together. But nothing is thicker than blood. Meet the Quarrels brothers in Heart of a Lawman (#559).
Finally, newcomer Karen Lawton Barrett contributes her first title to Harlequin Intrigue. We know you’ll love Hers To Remember (#560) for its emotional drama and highly charged suspense. Hang on to your seats when you read this A MEMORY AWAY…story!
Take home all four books for an exhilarating rush of romance.
Sincerely,
Denise O’Sullivan
Associate Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue
Forbidden Lover
Amanda Stevens
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amanda Stevens has written over twenty novels of romantic suspense. Her books have appeared on several bestseller lists, and she has won Reviewer’s Choice and Career Achievement in Romantic/ Mystery awards from Romantic Times Magazine. She resides in Cypress, Texas, with her husband, her son and daughter, and their two cats.
Books by Amanda Stevens
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
373—STRANGER IN PARADISE
388—A BABY’S CRY
397—A MAN OF SECRETS
430—THE SECOND MRS. MALONE
453—THE HERO’S SON* (#litres_trial_promo)
458—THE BROTHER’S WIFE* (#litres_trial_promo)
462—THE LONG-LOST HEIR* (#litres_trial_promo)
489—SOMEBODY’S BABY
511—LOVER, STRANGER
549—THE LITTLEST WITNESS** (#litres_trial_promo)
553—SECRET ADMIRER** (#litres_trial_promo)
557—FORBIDDEN LOVER** (#litres_trial_promo)
HARLEQUIN BOOKS
2-in-1 Harlequin 50th Anniversary Collection
HER SECRET PAST
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Dr. Erin Casey—She’s made a name for herself—but it isn’t the name she was given at birth.
Nick Gallagher—More than anything, the police detective wants the O’Roarke family to pay for its crimes.
Clive Avery—Why would a native Chicago policeman take a new job in the middle of nowhere?
Ed Dawson—The superintendent has never gotten over his stepdaughter’s murder.
Maggie Gallagher—Her blossoming relationship with Ed causes her family concern.
Sean Gallagher—Has Nick’s father’s body finally come home to rest?
Dylan O’Roarke—The attorney claims his client—his cousin—is innocent.
Dr. Russel Quay—He resents Erin’s appointment as head of the forensic anthropology lab.
Fisher—Does the shadowy informant know more than he reveals?
Contents
Chapter One (#u832564b9-c937-52e4-af34-8cc011056f2b)
Chapter Two (#ue2640f01-8d95-5d26-b4bb-1ff47d546e34)
Chapter Three (#u6e515c84-2926-5917-86b5-8dfa160b2382)
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)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
The bones talked to her while she worked. As Dr. Erin Casey painstakingly examined the human cranium on her worktable, the story of a life began to unfold for her.
The skull was small and lightweight, which told her the remains were female, and the width of the hipbone concurred. Further examination revealed a small indentation on the pubic bone, indicating that the woman had given birth to at least two children.
The unidentified female was someone’s mother.
How old were her children? Did they still wonder what had happened to their mother? Did they sometimes lie in bed at night, missing her so badly they ached? Did they still dream about her?
Behind her goggles, Erin’s eyes closed briefly as an image of her own mother flitted through her mind. She’d been dead for nearly a year now, but sometimes the loss still seemed too much for Erin to bear. Sometimes the urge to talk to her mother was so strong, the need so great, that Erin would find herself lifting the phone to her ear, only to realize all over again that if she dialed her mother’s number, a stranger would undoubtedly pick up.
Madeline Casey had been everything to Erin—a devoted mother, a best friend, a trusted confidante. The two of them had been on their own from the time Erin was just a baby, moving from city to city for the first few years of her life, running, she now knew, from a past that had colored her life in ways she was only beginning to understand.
Perhaps that was why she’d accepted a faculty position at Hillsboro University, a small, private college in Chicago, the city where Erin had been born and where her mother had grown up. Erin had family here, but none of them would recognize her if they met her on the street or heard her name. She hadn’t seen any of them, including her father, since she was nine months old, nor they her. And Erin’s mother had long ago legally changed both their names, not so much for safety’s sake—though that had undoubtedly been a consideration—but in an effort to sever all ties with a family that had been morally and legally corrupt.
Erin felt no bitterness about the separation. She understood her mother’s motives all too well. The reason she’d moved back to Chicago had nothing to do with renewing ties with her father or his family. Far from it.
She’d come here solely because of her mother. From the moment the offer from Hillsboro had been presented to her, Erin had sensed her mother’s presence would be strong here. Madeline had grown up in Chicago, gone to school and fallen in love here. She’d married and given birth to two children here. When she’d moved away, she’d left a part of her heart behind, and in some strange way, Erin knew this was where she would finally find a sense of herself, here in the shadow of her mother’s past.
And, of course, the state-of-the-art laboratory of which Erin was in charge had played no small part in her decision. Funded almost entirely by a wealthy, anonymous donor, the Forensic Anthropology and Human Identification Laboratory, usually referred to as FAHIL, rivaled the one at the University of Tennessee, where Erin had received her doctorate in physical anthropology and where the famous “body farm” was located.
All in all, she considered her move to Chicago from the sometimes sweltering climate of Knoxville to be a wise one. The campus was small with the usual petty jealousies and academic backstabbing, but in the two months that Erin had been on staff, her reception had been fairly warm. She suspected the ease with which she had been accepted had more to do with the reputation she’d earned at the Anthropological Research Facility in Knoxville than with her personally.
As one of only a handful of board-certified forensic anthropologists nationwide, her presence at Hillsboro was something of a coup. Her name had quickly been added to the Chicago Police Department’s consultation list, as well as law enforcement agencies all over Illinois and the Midwest. Hillsboro’s board of trustees were very aware that a high-profile case could bring donors out of the woodwork.
Case 00-03, the unidentified mother on Erin’s worktable, was her third consultation with CPD, and though it didn’t promise to be high-profile, there was something about the woman’s remains that had captured Erin’s imagination.
The skeleton had been discovered less than a week ago, beneath an old house that was being torn down in Chinatown. Erin hadn’t been invited to examine the skeleton in situ, but instead, the remains had been dug up and transported in a black plastic bag to the pathology lab at the Chicago Technology Park. The pathologist on duty had quickly concluded there wasn’t enough tissue remaining on the bones for an autopsy to be of much use, so Erin had been called in.
Carefully, she took facial measurements, narrating her findings for the video camera that recorded every nuance of her examination. The notes would later be transcribed and included in the report she would give to the police.
The broad face, squared winglike cheekbones, and small low-bridged nasal bone were characteristics of the Mongoloid race. Since the skeleton had been found in Chinatown, Erin knew there was a very good chance the remains were Asian.
An Asian mother of at least two children.
The story continued to unfold.
Next, Erin began to determine the woman’s age by studying the degree of fusion in the femur, the closure of the cranial sutures, and the—
“Dr. Casey?”
Absorbed in her work, Erin jumped at the unexpected sound of a human voice. The bones talked to her, but they never spoke out loud.
She glanced up. Gloria Maynard, her secretary, stood tentatively inside the lab door, her expression wary. She didn’t like coming down here. The shelved bones and skulls patiently awaiting identification made her nervous, but then death made a lot of people nervous. But not Erin. If anything, she took comfort in the knowledge that stripped of skin, tissue, and muscle, human beings were all pretty much the same underneath.
Including the tall, good-looking man who hovered outside in the hallway, just beyond the open door.
Erin frowned. She didn’t like strangers invading her private domain, for security reasons among others. “What’s going on?” she asked Gloria.
The secretary glanced over her shoulder. In spite of her discomfort, her eyes danced excitedly. “There’s a detective outside to see you. I told him to wait in your office, but he insisted on coming down here. He said he needed to talk to you about an urgent case—”
The man pushed past Gloria into the lab, as if too impatient to wait any longer. Erin didn’t much care for his attitude, but whoever he was, he certainly had excellent bone structure, she’d give him that. She automatically cataloged his features. Wide shoulders, narrow waist, lean hips. Moving to his face, she noted the high cheekbones, the well-defined brow, and the piercing blue eyes, so striking against his dark coloring.
His impatience emanated from every nerve ending in his body. He looked incapable of standing still. He wore a sport coat with charcoal trousers, and his hand swept restlessly down his striped tie as his gaze roamed every nook and cranny of the lab, undisturbed, he would have her think, by the rows of human skulls grinning silently from the shelves.
Satisfied with what he’d seen, his blue gaze came back to rest on Erin. Her stomach fluttered, not from attraction or sexual awareness she was quite sure, but from apprehension. Somehow she knew the man’s presence here in her lab did not bode well for her future peace of mind.
“So you’re the bone lady,” he said, in a voice deepened not so much by age—Erin judged him to be in his early thirties, possibly two or three years older than she—but by confidence and authority, a man who liked telling others what to do.
She bristled instantly. “No,” she told him coolly. “I’m not the bone lady, although I thank you for the compliment. That moniker belongs to another forensic anthropologist, one I admire very much.”
“Fair enough,” he said easily, although his gaze seemed to intensify on her. “But you are Dr. Casey, aren’t you? Dr. Erin Casey?”
“Yes.” She shoved her goggles to the top of her head, then peeled off her gloves and disposed of them in the waste receptacle before she ventured across the room toward him. “And you are…?”
“Detective Gallagher,” Gloria piped in, as if she had only now remembered his name. Her voice was higher than normal, and she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the man. “He’s with the Chicago PD.”
