When the Earth Moves

by Roxanne St Claire

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  When the Earth Moves

  By

  Roxanne St. Claire

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  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

  Epilogue

  * * *

  "You Are Going To Sign That Document, Aren't You, Cameron?"

  He had no reason to deny her his signature. Surely he didn't want the responsibility of a ten-month-old baby.

  "What will happen if I don't?"

  A child's world, and Jo's, would collapse again. "You will."

  "What will happen if I do?"

  "I'll leave. I promise never to darken your doorstep again."

  A slow smile revealed straight white teeth. "Then I'm going to take every possible minute I've got." He leaned right into her ear and whispered, "And you'd like my doorstep. You're welcome to darken it anytime."

  Every feminine cell in her body betrayed her, dancing to attention and making her tingle. The very thought of what he was suggesting made her legs feel a little weak. Great. Just great, Jo . She hadn't counted on having to fight herself to get what she wanted.

  * * *

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for choosing Silhouette Desire. As always, we have a fabulous array of stories for you to enjoy, starting with Just a Taste by Bronwyn Jameson, the latest installment in our DYNASTIES: THE ASHTONS continuity series. This tale of forbidden attraction between two romance-wary souls will leave you breathless and wanting more from this wonderful author who will have a brand-new miniseries of her own, PRINCES OF THE OUTBACK, out later this year.

  The terrific Annette Broadrick is back with another book in her CRENSHAWS OF TEXAS series. Double Identity is an engrossing page-turner about seduction and liesyou know, all that good stuff! Susan Crosby continues her BEHIND CLOSED DOORS series with Rules of Attraction , the first of three brand-new stories set in the world of very private investigations. Roxanne St. Claire brings us a fabulous McGrath brother hero caught in an unexpected situation, in When the Earth Moves . Rochelle Alers's THE BLACKSTONES OF VIRGINIA series wraps up with Beyond Business , a story in which the Blackstone patriarch gets involved in a surprise romance with his newand very pregnantassistant. And last but certainly not least, the engaging Amy Jo Cousins is back this month with Sleeping Arrangements , a terms-of-the-wUl story not to be missed.

  Here's hoping you enjoy all six of our selections this month. And, in the months to come, look for Maureen Child's THREE-WAY WAGER series and a brand-new installment of our infamous TEXAS CATTLEMAN'S CLUB.

  Happy reading!

  Melissa Jeglinski Senior Editor Silhouette Desire

  Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X

  * * *

  * * *

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this'"stripped book."

  SILHOUETTE BOOKS

  ISBN 0-373-76648-3

  WHEN THE EARTH MOVES

  Copyright © 2005 by Roxanne St. Claire

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  Visit Silhouette Books at www.eHarlequin.com

  Printed in U.S.A.

  * * *

  Books by Roxanne St. Claire

  Silhouette Desire

  Like a Hurricane #1572

  The Fire Still Burns #1608

  When the Earth Moves #1648

  * * *

  ROXANNE ST. CLAIRE

  began writing romance fiction in 1999 after nearly two decades as a public relations and marketing executive. Retiring from business to pursue a lifelong dream of writing romance is one of the most rewarding accomplishments in her life. The others are her happy marriage to a real-life hero and the daily joys of raising two young children. Roxanne writes mainstream romantic suspense, contemporary romance and women's fiction. Her work has received numerous awards, including the prestigious Heart to Heart Award, the Golden Opportunity Award and the Gateway Award. An active member of the Romance Writers of America, Roxanne lives in Florida and currently writesand raises childrenfull-time. She loves to hear from readers through e-mail at roxannestc@aol.com and snail mail at P.O. Box 372909, Satellite Beach, FL 32937. Visit her Web site at www.roxannestclaire.com.

  * * *

  While writing this book, I had the opportunity to "meet" a group of talented, spirited writers who participated in an eHarlequin.com Writing Round Robin. The project was designed for me to teach about craft and encourage aspiring writersbut I was the one who learned, and discovered a source of constant support and friendship.

  This book is dedicated to the gang in the Hood, with much love and loyalty.

  * * *

  Chapter One

  Cameron McGrath never missed the first pitch of a Yankee game. He considered it low class, bad luck and downright disrespectful to a near-holy tradition. So when the receptionist announced that a woman waited in the main lobby of Futura Investments and insisted on seeing him, he swallowed a colorful curse.

  "I don't have any more appointments today, Jen." To be certain, he flipped open his PDA and checked the calendar. Of course he wouldn't schedule anything past six on a game night. Especially when the Yankees were playing Boston. "Who's she with?"

  "Uh, she's alone."

  He smiled, and silently forgave the young girl's mistake. Jen had personality and charm, and that's why she was out front. "Did she say what company she's with? One of our clients? Or is it some kind of sales call?"

  No doubt it was. Since he'd taken over as the top at-torney at Futura Investments, it seemed he spent far too little time practicing law and way too much time overseeing the legal department. He hadn't gotten dual graduate degrees in law and business to baby-sit junior lawyers and make decisions on office equipment, although it seemed he'd done a lot of both lately.

  "She's not with any company, Mr. McGrath." The receptionist lowered her voice. "I think this is personal . I meanshe looks like someone, like maybe she'sshe looks personal."

  Personal? Amanda? She could be relentless when ignored. It had only been a week since he'd called her or was it two? Geez. He'd been perfectly honest from the beginning of their short relationship, but that didn't stop any marriage-starved Manhattan woman who had her sights set on a new last name. His .

  He glanced
at his watch. He'd take her along to the game. At least he wouldn't be late and she'd count it as a date. "Tell her I'll be out in a minute. Hope she's dressed for a game."

  Jen's laugh sounded more like surprise than humor. "I guess it depends on what you're playing."

  With Amanda, he'd place his bets on a short leather skirt, a skimpy but painfully expensive top, and heels as high as the Chrysler Building. He smiled. She could be relentless, all right. And sometimes that worked in everyone's favor.

  The smile was still on his face as he loosened his tie and turned the corner toward the Futura lobby, ready to greet the former model he'd met at a fund-raiser two months earlier.

  But as he glanced through the glass doors of the reception area, he froze midstep and slack-jawed.

  That was not Amanda.

  She stood with her back to him, studying the panoramic city view out the floor-to-ceiling windows. A pair of worn, faded jeans hugged a heart-shaped backside, with one cowboy-booted foot tapping the carpet, either in impatience or to a tune that played in her head. A thick mane of reddish-brown hair covered most of her back, just about kissing the top of those sinful-looking jeans. And on her head she wore a black cowboy hat.

  She looked like one long, lean, bull-riding machine.

  Did he know this woman?

  As he opened the lobby door, she slowly turned, tipped her hat back on her forehead and answered that question with one heart-stopping gaze. Nope. He would never have forgotten that face. Wide-set eyes the color of copper pennies, buttercream skin and a mouth that demanded hours of close scrutiny.

  And, he noticed with a bit of surprise, not a speck of makeup. He'd never even seen Amanda without makeupor at least the remnants of it.

  "Mr. McGrath?" She took a few quick strides toward him, the sound of her boot heels on the marble floor echoing the beat of his increased pulse rate.

  "I'm Cam McGrath." He extended a hand in greeting. "Can I" Help ? No, help was not on the list of things he wanted to do to and for her.

  "Jo Ellen Tremaine." Her handshake was solid, but her gaze held a question, a sense of anticipation. Was he supposed to recognize her name? Was she opposing counsel on a Futura case? He was drawing a blank. Or maybe that was because his brain cells had shut down in deference to an alternative organ.

  He forced himself to focus on her face, but she hoisted a tote bag over her shoulder, the action pulling her shirt a little to the side and revealing the translucent skin of her throat and collarbone.

  "I know you're off to a meeting," she said. "So I won't take but a second of your time."

  "No problem. It's nothing urgent." Had he just told her the Yankees and Red Sox were not urgent? He had to get a grip. Pretty women could be found on every street in New York. They just didn't generally dress for the rodeo. "What can I do for you?"

  She glanced toward Jen, who hadn't missed one second of the brief interplay. "Could I speak with you privately?"

  He weighed his options. Spend some time talking to this gorgeous cowgirl. Be late for the Yankees. Cowgirl. Yankees.

  "My office is right down the hall." He tilted his head toward the door in invitation.

  She took off her hat and shook out her hair, causing some silky strands to fall over her shoulders. His gaze dropped to her pale-blue button-down shirt, complete with silver snaps.

  Yeehaw.

  Holding the door, he managed a good long look at the fitted back pockets of her jeans again. The Yankees would play at home eighty-one times this season. A jaw-dropping version of Dale Evans would only appear in his office once. He had definitely made the right choice.

  "Can I offer you something to drink, Ms. Tremaine?" he asked as they entered his office and he closed the door.

  "You can call me Jo. And unless you have an ice-cold Bud on tap, I'm fine."

  He chuckled a little. "Wouldn't you know it? My office tap is out."' He suddenly remembered the six-pack of Amber Bock in his refrigerator at home. Intended for

  Saturday's softball game, but easily replaced. "Or we could go somewhere else."

  "No, thanks." She stood in the middle of the room, her gaze direct and unwavering. "This won't take that long. I hope."

  He heard an infinitesimal catch in her voice, something only a lawyer trained to sniff out half-truths and cover-ups would notice.

  He gestured toward the sofa in the sitting area of his office. "Please. Have a seat."

  She folded herself into one of the chairs, her faded denim and black boots looking oddly out of place on the chrome-and-leather divan he'd had designed when he took over the massive corner office.

  "Are you from around here.. Jo?" The name suited her. She wasn't feminine. Womanly, oh, yeah. But nothing fluttered in her movements, not her fingers, not her eyelashes. Jo. He liked it.

  "I'm from Sierra Springs, California."

  He inched back in surprise.

  "Have you heard of it?" She sounded like she expected him to say yes.

  "I can't say that I have, but you've come a long way. Is Sierra Springs near the Silicon Valley?" They had clients out there, several of them. This had to be related to Futura somehow.

  She shook her head, smoothing her jeans with one long, slow stroke of her hands, a whisper of a cynical smile tipping her lips. "Not that valley. Sierra Springs is on the border between California and Nevada, a hundred miles from Sacramento, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains."

  His knowledge of the area geography was scarce, at best. No clients that he could think of. No potential in-vestments. Not much of anything but the Ponderosa Ranch and some second-class gambling in Reno. "Pretty quiet up there, I bet."

  "It was. Until the earth shook us down to our boots and rattled our brains into scrambled eggs."

  "The earth?" He zipped through a mental hard drive. What was she talking about? "Oh, yes." He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "I have heard of Sierra Springs. There was an earthquake there a few months ago. A big one."

  She nodded. "Five point six. And some nasty aftershocks."

  This was definitely a lawsuit waiting to happen. "Five point six, whoa. That is major. Did it affectwere you hit hard?"

  His gaze traveled over those jean-clad legs again, hoping against hope that whatever her business they wouldn't be adversaries. He'd very much prefer to counsel her. Among other things.

  She shrugged. "I lost somepeople."

  Staff? Family? Whoever, he had no doubt that her loss was at the root of this unorthodox meeting.

  "I'm sorry to hear that." He seemed to recall five people died at one site. An apartment building. And then the image of a firefighter carrying a one-year-old from a hellhole of debris flashed in his mind. Of coursethe baby found in the rubble. The story had been on every news station for days.

  Did she own the building? Did Futura ? Surely he'd have been briefed on that kind of potential lawsuit if they did.

  "So, what do you do in Sierra Springs?" With some witnesses, the most innocuous questions cut right to the truth. He half imagined she'd say she roped horses and cattle, but more likely, she was another lawyer. They just dressed differently in California.

  "I do body work."

  His pulse kicked up again. "Excuse me?"

  "Car repairs. Wrecks."

  "You're a mechanic?"

  "I'm a collision repair expert." A little light danced in her bronze-brown eyes as she narrowed them. "I own my own body shop."

  "Really." So she wasn't a rodeo queen or a lawyer. She pounded steel for a living.

  Without thinking, his gaze slid back to her hands, long and slender and not a grease stain on them. And free of any jewelrynot even a single gold band. "Well you've certainly piqued my curiosity, Ms.Jo. What brings you to New York?"

  "You."

  His body tightened with a low, natural response to the single raspy word.

  "Me?" Okay. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if that mouth is damn near edible. "How's that?"

  "I need you to sign a paper."


  Legal alarms sounded in the back of his head. "What kind of a paper?"

  "It's called a Petition of Relinquishment and Consent."

  He thought for a minute, his mind skimming first-year law. "Isn't that part, of the adoption process?"

  For a moment she didn''t move. The tip of her tongue peeked through her unadorned lips and dampened them. "Yes."

  "I don't understand. Why would you need my signature?"

  "I'm in the process of adopting a baby. And she is adistant relative of yours."

  He leaned forward as though she pulled him on a string. "A relative of mine?"

  "She's youryour niece."

  He shook his head. "I don't have a niece. I have two brothers and neither one has children." Unease trickled through his veins, but he dismissed it. If Colin or Quinn had fathered a baby, he'd know it. They had no secrets, nothing they didn't share with one another. Could this be a" ploy for money? A hoax? "I think you've made a mistake. Who is the child?"

  "There's no mistake," she insisted. "She's definitely your niece."

  "I'm utterly certain I don't have a niece."

  She raised one beautifully shaped brow. "Don't be utterly anything until you've heard the facts."

  Objection sustained. "Who is the father?"

  "Her father's entirely out of the picture, and anyway, he's not related to you. It's her mother. Her mother is wasa woman by the name of Katie McGrath."

  As if he had a Rolodex in his mind's eye, he flipped through every distant McGrath cousin he could remember. No Katie. "I've never heard of her."

  Slowly she crossed and uncrossed her legs. "No, you wouldn't have. You've never met her. But her mother is Christine McGrath."