A Little Christmas Magic
Page 22
ONE TEXAS NIGHT
A Romantic Suspense Novel
Excerpt from
One Texas Night
A Romantic Suspense Novel
by
Sylvie Kurtz
Bestselling Author
ONE TEXAS NIGHT
Awards & Accolades
Romantic Times Best First Romance, Nominee
Booksellers' Best Award, Finalist.
"Sylvie Kurtz mixes romance and suspense with perfect aplomb in this well-crafted tale."
~Library Journal
"I don't know my name. I don't know where I work. I don't know where I live." She flung her head back and closed her eyes to intensify the bits and pieces popping into her mind. "I know I like Orange Zinger tea and a toasted English muffin with crunchy peanut butter for breakfast. I know I like the feel of the earth on my fingers. I know I like movies that require a box of tissues to watch." She almost laughed at the absurdity of her fractured recall.
Tears itched the back of her eyes. Her throat tightened. Her fingers rolled into fists. "But I don't know anything about Angela's murder. Don't you think I'd tell you if I did?"
The officer rose and dragged his chair around the desk. After he'd turned her chair around to face the mirror, he sat until their knees almost touched. The tip of his black cowboy boots rested a fragment of an inch away from her bare toes. She curled them protectively away.
A shaft of panic invaded her. He was too close, much too close. She was aware of the heat emanating from him, of the fresh scent of soap carried on those heated waves, and of him, and how much his physical presence disturbed her already shaky balance—of how much she needed to be held right now.
"I know how frustrating it must be for you not knowing who you are." A measure of warmth crept into his voice. "But it's important you give remembering a real good try. A young woman died, and you might have witnessed her murder."
"Witnessed?" She jerked in surprise. "You don't think I murdered her anymore?"
"Let's just say for the sake of argument that you didn't." He reached forward and placed a sheltering hand over hers. The warmth of his skin felt good on her iced fingers. The directness of his gaze, unnerving as it was, also reflected a clarity of character she wanted desperately to trust.
"I want to go home," she said. It was getting harder to breathe in the thickening air. She had to get out. But who could she call? Did she even have anyone who cared about her?
"Where is home?"
She lowered her lashes and sighed. "I don't know, but anywhere has to be less claustrophobic than this room."
He leaned farther forward. Anxiety snapped and crackled along her overloaded nerves, tightening her chest. "You don't like closed-in places," he said. "Is that why you were wandering outside in the middle of the night?"
Once more she allowed her gaze to meet his. She held it steady this time, not letting the piercing quality of it trouble her. "You could irritate a saint."
He shifted back again, his mouth curling into half a grin. "I've spent hours developing that quality. But I have a hunch you're no saint, so why don't you just make it easy on yourself and cooperate with me. I don't want to hurt you. I want to find Angela Petersen's murderer."
She removed her hands from the protective cover of his and crossed her arms below her chest, scrunching back as far as she could in the chair. "I don't know anything."
"I can protect you," he promised. Something deep inside knew she needed protection, but from what? Or from whom? "There's nothing to be afraid of."
Nothing to be afraid of. But there always had been something to be afraid of. A fear like a monster in the closet that banged to get out, that haunted her days and nights, year after year. What did it want? She didn't know, and wasn't sure she wanted to find out. But this fear had nothing to do with Lieutenant Sloan's investigation. This fear was far too old to be part of this fresh nightmare. It was a private one. One she'd have to deal with on her own. She lifted her shoulders and shook her head. "Why would I need your protection?"
A trace of irritation flickered in his eyes. His jaw flinched once before he spoke again. "Listen, it's very important that you—"
A knock on the door interrupted him. He got up to answer. Someone out of her line of sight offered him a piece of paper.
"Melinda Amery!" He said the name with such hatred she recoiled in her chair from the booming concussion of his voice. "Is she related to Ely?"
She couldn't hear the muffled reply. He skewered her with his narrowed gaze, and as he left, he slammed the door. Why did that name bring such hatred and anger out of him? What had this Melinda Amery done to him? Her heart thudded hard once. Was she Melinda Amery?
Melinda Amery. She turned the name over and over in her mind, but it struck no chords of recognition. With a sigh, she rested an elbow on the desk and propped her head on her uplifted hand. Her free hand traveled over the dried mud on her leg, tucking her feet beneath her.
She wanted to get out of here. She wanted a shower and a good long nap. She wanted to forget this episode. Tomorrow things would start falling back into place and she could resume her normal life as if nothing had happened.
Except that "normal" wouldn't be the same. Angela was dead. Angela who had been her neighbor. The image of moss roses, the sound of laughter flicked like wet paint onto the opaque canvas of her mind. The quiet companionship they'd shared was gone forever. And like dominoes, when one thing fell, others were bound to follow.
She knew without being told she had a lot of questions left to answer. And none of them would bring out Lieutenant Sloan's charming dimples.
One Texas Night
A Romantic Suspense Novel
by
Sylvie Kurtz
~
To purchase
One Texas Night
from your favorite eBook Retailer,
visit Sylvie Kurtz's eBook Discovery Author Page
www.ebookdiscovery.com/SylvieKurtz
~
Discover more with
eBookDiscovery.com
Page forward and complete your journey
with an excerpt from
Sylvie Kurtz's critically acclaimed
PERSONAL ENEMY
Excerpt from
Personal Enemy
A Romantic Suspense Novel
by
Sylvie Kurtz
Bestselling Author
PERSONAL ENEMY
Reviews & Accolades
"A thrilling romantic suspense. The story is fast-paced, starring realistic characters. Romantic thriller readers will appreciate this tense tale."
~Harriet Klausner
The dark-haired man bent over his work possessed every inch of space in his territory. He glanced up for a fraction of a moment, then returned to his paperwork. "Who are you?"
"Adria Caskey. Your nine o’clock appointment for the secretarial position."
Distractedly, he lifted his agenda from below a neat stack of papers, checked the entry and frowned.
She attempted to relax and took in the man beneath the air of utter confidence—the charcoal-gray suit molding his athletic body to perfection, the tie’s red knot in precise position between the starched points of his shirt collar, the manicured hairstyle that left not one straight brown hair out of place. She searched his lean face for something to hate and found the sheer power in the set of his long, straight nose, the reflection of light on his prominent cheekbones, the dark slashes of eyebrows above his dusty-green eyes fascinated her.
Definitely a western dragon. An unexpected twin thrill of excitement and fear ran through her. Peter Dragon would make her task a challenge. He would defy her at every turn. He would question her judgment. He would oppose her suggestions. She could see why hanging on to a secretary might prove a problem. A man like him didn’t believe in second chances. And the provocation of his unspoken defiance spurred her contrary nature into overdrive.
You can’t do it, keiki.
Oh, ye
s, I can, Grandpa. Watch me!
So it had gone throughout her training in her grandfather’s secret art of self-defense. When she thought she’d gone as far as she could, he’d challenged her and catapulted her to new achievements despite the underlying ripple of anxiety. That’s why she’d taken on the risky jobs. They gave her purpose—a barrier to climb, an obstacle to overcome, a way to transcend the constant wash of terror lying just beneath her skin.
Peter Dragon would be her ultimate test.
But she was ready.
She held his gaze as he looked up. She’d seen those eyes before on a stormy night twenty-one years ago, staring down at her from her parents’ bedroom window. They’d looked innocent then. Now they were tinged with something ruthless and fierce. Steady strength peered at her through the shield of his glasses and, for an instant, she feared he could see right through her.
Not what she’d expected, this palpable power. It disturbed her enough that her mind couldn’t soften her gaze to read his aura as her grandfather had taught her. Not good.
Would he recognize her after all this time? Not likely. That night held no meaning for him. He’d probably forgotten. The name Caskey wouldn’t mean anything to him. It belonged to her grandfather. Would he see his childhood in the Polynesian features she’d inherited from her father? Or would he choose to see only the pale skin she’d received from the mixed bag of her mother’s European heritage? How much of his past had he managed to erase from his mind?
Pain rolled through her in a tsunami-sized wave. She fisted her hand with joint-crunching force to keep from letting it surge over her and crash into him in a breaker of anger.
Use mind, not external force, keiki.
Grandpa was right, of course. If she wanted the job, she would have to feign admiration and interest. Her brittle smile hurt her cheeks. "You’re looking for a secretary."
"I have a capable assistant."
"It’s my understanding she left the position. Mr. Russell Dragon arranged for the interview."
Not a muscle moved on his face, as if losing an employee happened every day.
"Do you have a résumé?" His voice reported across the room in an imperial decree. The degradation of interviewing his own assistant seemed to grate on his nerve.
She boldly ate the space between them. Resting her briefcase on the seat of a chair, she plucked a single sheet of paper from its depth. She reached over his desk and handed the sheet to him.
He didn’t invite her to sit so she remained standing. This way they stood on equal footing. She had no doubt he'd chosen the people-swallowing chairs on purpose. Was it for power or security?
Power, definitely power. He’d shown too much disregard for security to care that the throne chair, the dominating desk and deep visitors’ chairs all hindered attack.
He leaned back on his throne, perusing her revised life’s work with serious intent. If you only knew!
"I can’t help notice that you’re overqualified for the job, Ms. Caskey." Arching an eyebrow, he dared her to prove him wrong. He dropped her résumé on his desk and propped his elbows on his throne’s arms, tenting his fingers under his chin. "Why would you want to work as a secretary when you could easily get an entry-level managerial position elsewhere?"
"My education is extensive." Perspiration prickled her armpits in spite of the cool air blowing against her face from an overhead duct. The pins holding her chignon bit into her scalp. When the opponent is hard, you must remain soft, keiki. Calm your mind. "But my real-life business experience is limited. I earned my MBA at Yale a year ago.
I’ve been taking care of my dying grandfather since then."
Peter listened carefully, not showing the slightest hint of reaction. His stillness more than anything fanned her anxiety. Did he hear the half-truths beneath her story?
"He died two months ago." At least that much was true.
"I’m sorry for your loss, but I still don’t understand why you’d want this position."
Her fingers itched to twist her raincoat’s loose belt. She forced her hands to lie unmoving along the seams of her skirt. An undercurrent of heat radiated from him, wafting the faint scent of leather and spice toward her. He waited for her answer with unnerving stillness, emphasizing his quiet power.
"The economy being what it is, openings are rare these days. I’m older than most graduates and have less experience." A little flattery never hurt. "One of my business professors used your rise to success as an example of impeccable business ethics." How had Peter managed to hide the source of his start-up capital? How many people besides her mother and father had died to make his empire possible?
"I’ve done some research. You have a lot of growth potential. That’s the kind of company I want to work for. I’d like to learn the business from the ground up. Grow with it." Find its weakness. Destroy it. "I’m not planning on being a secretary forever."
No, her future beyond this obligation remained a blank canvas she had no idea how she would paint. But before she could think about her future, she had to put her family’s past to rest.
Personal Enemy
A Romantic Suspense Novel
by
Sylvie Kurtz
~
To purchase
Personal Enemey
from your favorite eBook Retailer,
visit Sylvie Kurtz's eBook Discovery Author Page
www.ebookdiscovery.com/SylvieKurtz
~
Discover more with
eBookDiscovery.com
Flying an eight-hour solo cross-country in a Piper Arrow with only the airplane's crackling radio and a large bag of M&Ms for company, Sylvie Kurtz realized a pilot's life wasn't for her. The stories zooming in and out of her head proved more entertaining than the flight. Not a quitter, she completed her pilot's course, earning her commercial license and instrument rating.
Since then, she's traded in her wings for a keyboard, where she lets her imagination soar to create fictional adventures that explore the complexity of the human mind and the thrill of suspense. She believes organic dark chocolate is an essential nutrient, likes to knit with soft wool, and justifies watching sappy movies by knitting baby blankets.
She has written 21 novels.
For more details, visit www.sylviekurtz.com.
Sylvie loves to hear from readers. You can contact her at kurtzsyl@aol.com
Follow Sylvie on Twitter: @sylviekurtz
Books by Sylvie Kurtz
The Seekers Series
Book 1: Heart of a Hunter
Book 2: Mask of a Hunter
Book 3: Eye of a Hunter
Book 4: Pride of a Hunter
Book 5: Spirit of a Hunter
Book 6: Honor of a Hunter
Flesh & Blood Duo
Book 1: Remembering Red Thunder (2002 Romantic Times Nominee for Best Intrigue)
Book 2: Red Thunder Reckoning
Stand Alone Works
Pull of the Moon
Detour
Ms. Longshot (optioned for TV Movie)
Personal Enemy
A Rose at Midnight
Under Lock and Key
A Little Christmas Magic (2001 Readers Choice Finalist)
Alyssa Again
Blackmailed Bride
One Texas Night (1999 Romantic Times nominee for Best First Category Romance and a finalist for a Booksellers Best Award)
Silver Shadows
Broken Wings
Table of Contents
Cover
Dedication
From Sylvie Kurtz
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Excerpt from HIDDEN LEGACY by Sylvie Kurtz
Excerpt from ONE TEXAS NIGHT by Sylvie Kurtz
Excerpt from PERSONAL ENEMY by Sylvie Kurtz
Meet the Author
More by Sylvie Kurtz