Authors: Linda Lael Miller
Linda Lael Miller
Anna Dorfman
Deborah Chabrian
POCKET BOOKS
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First Pocket Books paperback printing April 1996
The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book.”
PIRATES authorKEYvalue000000
$7.99 U.S.
$11 99 CAN.
TWO MAGNETIC LOVERS. ONE VOLATILE PASSION
.
LINDA LAEL MILLER LIGHTS UP THE NIGHT IN HER HEART-POUNDING
NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLER
DON’T LOOK NOW
Available from Pocket Star Books
KEEP YOUR EYES ON BREATHLESS SUSPENSE FROM LINDA LAEL MILLER—DON’T MISS HER ALL-NEW NOVEL
ONE LAST LOOK
Coming in trade paperback from Pocket Books
EAN
PIRATES
“Sensuality, passion, excitement, and drama … are Ms. Miller’s hallmarks.”
—Romantic Times
PRAISE FOR THE WARM, WONDERFUL NOVELS OF
NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLING AUTHOR LINDA LAEL MILLER
PIRATES
“Lively … a dashing hero.”
—Publishers Weekly
“An incredible adventure of love and desire…. A timeless story to capture the heart…. The pages sizzle with passion.”
—The Literary Times
“PIRATES is Linda Lael Miller at her scintillating best.”
—Affaire de Coeur
SHOTGUN BRIDE
“An exciting, action-packed tale starring two delightful lead protagonists…. [A] story that will keep the audience breathless in anticipation.”
—Harriet Klausner, thebestreviews.com
“Pure delight…. I laughed out loud in some places and had a warm heart in others…. The McKettrick Cowboys a great series—not to be missed.”
—Old Book Barn Gazette
HIGH COUNTRY BRIDE
“Linda Lael Miller is one of the finest American writers in the genre. She beautifully crafts stories that bring smalltown America to life and peoples them with characters you really care about.”
—Romantic Times
“Miller ably portrays the hardscrabble life of the American west … [in a] winsome romance full of likable characters.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Just the beginning of a fantastic new dynasty…. Join the gang at the Triple M Ranch and share in the love and laughter with some of the most wonderful characters to come your way in a long time.”
—nettrends.com
THE LAST CHANCE CAFÉ
“
The Last Chance Café
delivers powerful romance flavored with deep emotional resonance.”
—Romantic Times
“This novel is dead-on target … [with] suspense, down home comfort, and sizzling tension… Ms. Miller has a timeless writing style, and her characters are always vivacious and appealing.”
—Heartstrings
“[An] enriching tale.”
—Romance BookPage
“An entertaining story.”
—Booklist
SPRINGWATER WEDDING
“Fans will be thrilled to join the action, suspense, and romance….”
—Romantic Times
“Pure delight from the beginning to the satisfying ending … Miller is a master craftswoman at creating unusual story lines [and] charming characters.”
—Rendezvous
“The perfect recipe for love … Miller writes with a warm and loving heart.”
—BookPage
Discover a side of Linda Lael Miller you’ve never seen before
…
READ HER PAGE-TURNING NOVELS OF ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
DON’T LOOK NOW
“An exciting romantic suspense thriller…. The story line is action-packed…. Linda Lael Miller at her intriguing best.”
—Midwest Book Review
“[A] fantastic plot.”
—Readertoreader.com
“Heart-stopping suspense…. A great read that moves along at dizzying speed.”
—Winter Haven News (FL)
NEVER LOOK BACK
“[An] exhilarating police procedural romance…. A thriller that never slows down until the final confrontation…. The return of the cast from
Don’t Look Now
will excite readers…. Romantic suspense fans will look back on the two Clare Westbrook novels as fond Miller time.”
—Allreaders.com
A
LSO BY
L
INDA
L
AEL
M
ILLER
Banner O’Brien Corbin’s Fancy Memory’s Embrace My Darling Melissa Angelfire Desire and Destiny Fletcher’s Woman Lauralee Moonfire Wanton Angel Willow Princess Annie The Legacy Taming Charlotte Yankee Wife Daniel’s Bride Lily and the Major Emma and the Outlaw Caroline and the Raider Pirates Knights My Outlaw The Vow Two Brothers Springwater Springwater Seasons series: Rachel Savannah Miranda Jessica A Springwater Christmas One Wish The Women of Primrose Creek series: Bridget Christy Skye Megan Courting Susannah Springwater Wedding My Lady Beloved (writing as Lael St. James) My Lady Wayward (writing as Lael St. James) The Last Chance Café High Country Bride Shotgun Bride Secondhand Bride Don’t Look Now
For Diane Kirk and Anita Battershell
.
Thanks for your confidence in the romance genre and your commitment to the empowerment of women. You are two terrific females!
Linda Lael Miller
PIRATES
The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book.”
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 1995 by Linda Lael Miller
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN: 0-671-87316-4
ISBN 978-1-439-10814-7
eISBN 978-0-671-87316-5
First Pocket Books paperback printing April 1996
10 9
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Cover design by Dorfman; Cover illustration by Deborah Chabrian
Manufactured in the United States of America
For information regarding special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-800-456-6798 or [email protected].
W
hen the dog deserted her and moved in with Jeffrey and his new bride, it was, for Phoebe Turlow, the proverbial last straw.
She had weathered the divorce well enough, considering how many of her dreams had come crashing down in the process. She’d even been philosophical about losing her job as a research assistant to Professor Benning, at a time when finding a comparable position was virtually impossible, given recent government budget cuts. After all, the professor had been writing and lecturing on the subject of American History at Seattle College for forty-five fruitful and illustrious years; he was ready, by his own admission, to spend his days reading, fishing, and playing chess.
Phoebe had held herself together, through it all. And now even Murphy, whom she’d rescued from the pound as a mangy, slat-ribbed mongrel and carefully nursed back to health, had turned on her.
She lowered the telephone receiver slowly back into its cradle, gazing at the dismal Seattle rain sheeting the window of her rented house. The glass reflected a hazy, pixielike image of a woman with short chestnut hair, large blue eyes, high cheekbones, and fair skin.
But Phoebe was looking through herself, mentally reliving the phone call she’d just received. Heather, Wife Number Two and widely proclaimed light of Jeffrey’s life, hadn’t been able—she probably hadn’t even tried—to suppress the smug note in her voice when she called to relay the news that the hound of hell was “safe and sound” in their kitchen. To hear Heather tell it, that furry ingrate had crossed a continent, fording icy rivers and surmounting insurmountable obstacles, enduring desperate privations of all sorts—Phoebe could almost hear the theme music of a new movie, rated G, of course.
Murphy, Come Home
.
Muttering to herself, Phoebe crossed the worn linoleum floor, picked up the dog’s red plastic bowl, and dumped it into the trash, kibbles and all. She emptied the water dish and tossed that away as well. Then, running her hands down the worn legs of her blue jeans and feeling more alone than ever before, Phoebe wandered into her small, uncarpeted living room and stared despondently out the front window.
Mel, the postman, was just pulling up to her mailbox in his blue and white jeep. He tooted the horn and waved, and Phoebe waved back with a dispirited smile. Her unemployment check was due, but the prospect didn’t cheer her up. If it hadn’t been for her savings and the small amount of insurance money she’d received when her mother and stepfather were killed in a car accident years ago, Phoebe figured she would have been sitting on a rain-slicked sidewalk down by the Pike Place Market, with a cigar box in front of her to catch coins.
Okay
, she thought, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. She could last for about six months, if she didn’t get a new job soon, and
then
she would join the ranks of Seattle’s panhandlers. An inspiring prospect, for somebody who was all of twenty-six years old.
Snatching her blue hooded rain slicker from the peg beside the door and tossing it over her shoulders, Phoebe dashed out into the chilly drizzle to fetch her mail. She’d sent out over fifty résumés since losing her job with Professor Benning—maybe there would be a positive response, or one of the rare, brightly colored cards her half brother,
Eliott, sometimes sent from Europe or South America or Africa, or wherever he happened to be. Or a letter from a friend…
Except that all their friends were really Jeffrey’s, not hers.
And that Eliott didn’t give a damn about her, and never had. To him, she was a trifle, an unfortunate postscript to their mother’s life. She wished she could stop caring what he thought.
Phoebe brought herself up short; she was feeling sorry for herself, and that was against her personal code. Resolutely, she wrenched open the door of her rural mailbox, which was affixed to a rusted metal post by the front gate, and reached inside. There was nothing but a sales circular, and she would have crumpled it up and tossed it into the nearest mud puddle, but she couldn’t bring herself to litter.