Jill Shalvis
Long-Lost Mom
© 1998
Dear Reader,
Happy New Year! And welcome to another month of great reading from Silhouette Intimate Moments, just perfect for sitting back after the hectic holidays. You’ll love Marilyn Pappano’s
We’ve got some great miniseries titles this month, too. Welcome back to Carla Cassidy’s Western town of MUSTANG, MONTANA in
Enjoy them all-and be sure to come back next month for more of the most exciting romantic reading around, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Yours,
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
To Matrice, for believing in me, even when I didn’t. Thank you!
Chapter 1
He came every year without fail. Same day, same time, and he wondered, as he always did, if Jenna knew it. If she was haunted by their past, too.
Of course she wasn’t, and never had been.
Annoyed at himself, Stone Cameron tossed a curious squirrel a handful of his trail mix. “This is the last year I do this,” he told the animal over the roar of the surf.
The squirrel sat up on its haunches, hoping for more.
Stone tossed some more food, then laughed in spite of himself when the greedy thing tried to eat it all on the spot.
“Oh…my God.”
At the soft gasp Stone shifted on the large rock and looked over his shoulder.
A woman stood on the sand of the deserted beach, covered from head to toe in black. Black trousers, black hooded wool coat, gloves and boots. The early-morning spring sun spilled over her, bathing her in a golden glow, and for an instant she looked so familiar his heart all but stopped.
Jenna.
A shaft of pain sliced through him, neatly destroying his calm. For a moment he’d thought she’d come back, but he knew now that was impossible.
Jenna Loggins was gone. Long gone.
And he was glad.
The woman standing before him appeared rigid, practically unbreathing. All he could see of her was her nose, but somehow it was enough to know she was deeply troubled.
The woman, medium height and willowy as a reed, suddenly swayed on her feet as though feeling faint.
Dammit. “Are you all right?” His voice was rougher and grittier than he would have liked, but sitting here, in this precise spot, where he hadn’t been in an entire year, was tearing his guts out.
She nodded, then raised a glove-covered hand to her face. Behind her mirrored sunglasses he sensed her intense unwavering stare, which he returned.
She didn’t look all right, although he couldn’t see her well at all, just a vague impression of porcelain skin, carefully painted lips and shuttered eyes. “Maybe you should sit down,” he suggested, shifting over on the large rock. There was ample room for two.
Slowly, as if in a trance, the woman walked around the rock to face him. For a long minute she said nothing, did nothing, just stared at him.
And despite Stone’s resolve to be alone and miserable on this day, something about the woman caused a stir deep within him. It wasn’t her body; he couldn’t see it clearly. It certainly wasn’t the face she’d hidden from him with such care. No, it was something much more profound, and it disturbed him in a way he hadn’t been disturbed in some time.
He was inexplicably
“I…can’t believe it,” she whispered.
Neither could he, but he couldn’t deny it. Some silent connection was drawing him to her.
The squirrel, clearly sensing snack time had come to an end, took off, chattering loudly, and disappeared into the thick woods lining the California beach. The noise seemed to snap the woman out of her spell. Again she lifted a hand to one cheek as if protecting herself from his gaze. Stone couldn’t see her eyes behind the reflective sunglasses, but he knew she stared at him as if waiting for something.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” The minute the words were out he wished them back. Would he never learn to stop trying to fix everyone’s problems but his own?
“You…don’t know me.”
She sounded so shocked that Stone took a closer look. Her hood had fallen back some, revealing a crop of fawn-colored hair, artfully cut to fall in soft waves about her face-a face still more than half-covered by her scarf and the tilt of her head, almost as though she was afraid he would recognize her.
He didn’t.
A horrible bone-seizing tension seem to grip her, a tension he didn’t understand and told himself he didn’t want to.
“Don’t tell me you have amnesia,” he quipped, trying to lighten the mood, when in fact, for some reason, he really wanted to take her hand and tell her everything would be okay.
He was an idiot.
“No, I don’t have amnesia. But…” Her voice trailed off and her mouth closed tight. Suddenly she sank onto the rock beside him. “You… I’m a stranger to you.” As if she realized how much she’d revealed, she dragged her hood back over her head and hugged herself with her arms. “A complete stranger.”
