by Aimée Thurlo
“Yes,” he whispered, his breath teasing her lips. As a hawk cried shrilly overhead, he took her mouth with his own.
Epilogue
Lanie stood before their new home. Gabriel was finishing a last-minute repair on the roof while Lucas put the last coat of paint on the porch trim. Joshua was loading leftover bundles of roofing shingles into his pickup, oblivious to the demands of such hard labor.
Marlee came up to stand beside Lanie, looking at Lucas wistfully. “You’re a lucky woman, Lanie. You’re now part of a very special family.”
Finished painting the trim, Lucas sauntered by, picked up Lanie and twirled her around. “I want to be an uncle soon, okay?”
“Get married and start your own family,” she shot back, laughing.
Lucas set her down, shaking his head. “Someday—maybe,” he said, giving Marlee a wink, then walking off.
Marlee blushed and gave Lanie an embarrassed smile. “My guess is that Joshua will marry next. Lucas will be the last of the Blackhorse brothers to settle down. You mark my words.”
“Joshua? You think so?” She looked at the muscular giant holding the ladder as Gabriel climbed down from the roof. “But he doesn’t even have a girlfriend.”
“Four Winds will fix that. You wait,” she said, walking over to help Lucas clean up the paintbrushes.
Gabriel came up and, taking Lanie’s hand, led her to the shadow of a tall pine. Standing behind her, he pulled her close against his chest. “Well, pretty wife, what do you think? Is everything the way you wanted?” he asked as his gaze settled on their new home. “If there’s anything missing, just say the word,” he whispered.
“Only one thing is needed to truly make it feel like home.” She leaned back, resting against his chest. “And I have a feeling you’ll know exactly what to do about that, once we’re alone.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, raining a trail of moist kisses down the column of her neck.
As she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin, a shiver ran up her spine. “I couldn’t ask for more,” Lanie said, then sighed as he nuzzled her ear, setting her blood on fire. “But I probably will.”
Here’s a sneak peek at Colleen Collins’s RIGHT CHEST, WRONG NAME Available August 1997…
“DARLING, YOU SOUND like a broken cappuccino machine,” murmured Charlotte, her voice oozing disapproval.
Russell juggled the receiver while attempting to sit up in bed, but couldn’t. If he sounded like a wreck over the phone, he could only imagine what he looked like.
“What mischief did you and your friends get into at your bachelor’s party last night?” she continued.
She always had a way of saying “your friends” as though they were a pack of degenerate water buffalo. Professors deserved to be several notches higher up on the food chain, he thought. Which he would have said if his tongue wasn’t swollen to twice its size.
“You didn’t do anything…bad…did you, Russell?”
“Bad.” His laugh came out like a bark.
“Bad as in naughty.”
He heard her piqued tone but knew she’d never admit to such a base emotion as jealousy. Charlotte Maday, the woman he was to wed in a week, came from a family who bled blue. Exhibiting raw emotion was akin to burping in public.
After agreeing to be at her parents’ pool party by noon, he untangled himself from the bed sheets and stumbled to the bathroom.
“Pool party,” he reminded himself. He’d put on his best front and accommodate Char’s request. Make the family rounds, exchange a few pleasantries, play the role she liked best: the erudite, cultured English literature professor. After fulfilling his duties, he’d slink into some lawn chair, preferably one in the shade, and nurse his hangover.
He tossed back a few aspirin and splashed cold water on his face. Grappling for a towel, he squinted into the mirror.
Then he jerked upright and stared at his reflection, blinking back drops of water. “Good Lord. They stuck me in a wind tunnel.”
His hair, usually neatly parted and combed, sprang from his head as though he’d been struck by lightning. “Can too many Wild Turkeys do that?” he asked himself as he stared with horror at his reflection.
Something caught his eye in the mirror. Russell’s gaze dropped.
“What in the—”
Over his pectoral muscle was a small patch of white. A bandage. Gingerly, he pulled it off.
Underneath, on his skin, was not a wound but a small, neat drawing.
“A red heart?” His voice cracked on the word heart. Something—a word?—was scrawled across it
“Good Lord,” he croaked. “I got a tattoo. A heart tattoo with the name Liz on it”
Not Charlotte. Liz!
eISBN 978-14592-6845-6
HER DESTINY
Copyright © 1997 by Almée Thurto
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 publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited. 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 8K9.
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 the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered In the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and In other countries.
Printed In U.S.A.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Dear Reader
Dedication
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Prologue
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Preview
Copyright