Every Waking Moment Read online

  Gail knew she would be willing to trust Blake with her life.

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Books by Doreen Roberts

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Copyright

  Gail knew she would be willing to trust Blake with her life.

  The question, though, was whether or not she could trust him with her secret. Being a man of high principles, would he be able to accept her story and believe in her innocence, when so many didn’t?

  He was beginning to care for her, she could tell. It was in his eyes when he looked at her, in that sudden stillness whenever she got too close to him. Was she throwing away a chance of happiness by keeping him at arm’s length?

  On the other hand, if she told him her story, she ran the risk of disillusioning him. It would be terrible to see that warm look in his eyes turn cold and watch him struggle to let her down lightly....

  Dear Reader,

  I’m not going to waste any time before I give you the good news: This month begins with a book I know you’ve all been waiting for. Nighthawk is the latest in Rachel Lee’s ultrapopular CONARD COUNTY miniseries. Craig Nighthawk has never quite overcome the stigma of the false accusations that have dogged his steps, and now he might not live to get the chance. Because in setting himself up as reclusive Esther Jackson’s protector—and lover—he’s putting himself right in harm’s way.

  Amnesia is the theme of Linda Randall Wisdom’s In Memory’s Shadow. Sometimes you can go home again—if you’re willing to face the danger. Luckily for Keely Harper, Sam Barkley comes as part of the package. Two more favorite authors are back—Doreen Roberts with the suspenseful Every Waking Moment, and Kay David with And Daddy Makes Three, a book to touch your heart. And welcome a couple of new names, too. Though each has written elsewhere, Maggie Simpson and Wendy Haley make their Intimate Moments debuts with McCain’s Memories (oh, those cowboys!) and Gabriel Is No Angel (expect to laugh), respectively.

  So that’s it for this time around, but be sure to come back next month for more of the best romance reading around, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

  Yours,

  Leslie Wainger

  Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator

  * * *

  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 5X3

  * * *

  EVERY WAKING MOMENT

  DOREEN ROBERTS

  Books by Doreen Roberts

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Gambler’s Gold #215

  Willing Accomplice #239

  Forbidden Jade #266

  Threat of Exposure #295

  Desert Heat #319

  In the Line of Duty #379

  Broken Wings #422

  Road to Freedom #442

  In a Stranger’s Eyes #475

  Only a Dream Away #513

  Where There’s Smoke #567

  So Little Time #653

  A Cowboy’s Heart #705

  Every Waking Moment #783

  Silhouette Romance

  Home for the Holidays #765

  A Mom for Christmas #1195

  DOREEN ROBERTS has an ambition to visit every one of the United States. She recently added several to her list when she drove across the country to spend a year on the East Coast.

  She’s thinking about setting her future books in each of the states she has visited. She has now returned to settle down in Oregon with her new husband, and to get back to doing what she loves most—writing books about adventurous people who just happen to fall in love.

  To Bill, for all your encouragement, faith and

  unswerving loyalty. You inspire me and sustain me,

  and your unconditional love fulfills my every

  waking moment.

  Chapter 1

  The business section was no more than six blocks long, Blake Foster reckoned as he propped himself against the doorway of the antique store. This small town was exactly as he’d pictured it—a few dismal-looking shop fronts, a small general store with a sub post office, a shabby diner, the inevitable tavern. Yes, that about summed up Mellow Springs.

  Right now was probably not a good time to judge whatever doubtful merits the town might possess. Piles of dirty, frozen snow lined the sidewalks, and a bleak gray sky promised more to come. The wind had to be blowing straight off the mountains, Blake thought, as he tugged the fur-lined collar of his jacket up the back of his neck. The cold was enough to freeze his eyeballs.

  For a moment he yearned to be back at a cozy table in Delphi’s Bar in the heart of downtown Portland, instead of this godforsaken hole in the wilds of the Northwest mountains. This was one assignment he could safely bet he wouldn’t enjoy.

  He never did enjoy his job when a woman was involved. Especially when she looked as good as the one in the picture nestled in the pocket of his plaid shirt.

  It wasn’t often a woman stirred his interest anymore. He’d already paid a high price for learning that emotions got in the way of his work and were best ignored. Something about the sad brown eyes and wistful smile of Gail Stevens, however, haunted him in his weaker moments.

  Blake frowned at the twinge of uneasiness beneath his belt. He couldn’t afford that kind of thinking. He had a job to do, and he was good at it only as long as he remained impartial.

  A dark blue compact car turned onto a gravel patch on the other side of the street, and he jerked to attention. The tires crunched noisily across a crisp ridge of mud-stained snow, then rolled to a halt in front of a large barn.

  After a second or two, a woman climbed out and slammed the door. She wore a short gray skirt beneath a navy blue reefer jacket, and her dark hair streamed across her face as she hurried across the narrow street, struggling against the wind. She dragged a handful of hair back with her gloved hand when she reached the doorway of the bookstore a few yards away from where he stood.

  He could see her profile clearly now—her small, firm chin tucked into the bright red scarf at her throat, although the sweep of her dark hair hid her eyes. Without looking in his direction, she tugged the door open and hurried into the shop.

  He would have known her even without that confirmation. He felt a small stab of satisfaction. He’d finally tracked her down. All he had to do now was make contact. And the sooner the better.

  He headed back to the hotel, doing his best to ignore the rumblings of apprehension in his gut. It was the daughter, he told himself. She was the one who would get the worst of this lousy deal. Too bad that it was always the kids who had to suffer the consequences of their parents’ mistakes. That was the toughest part of his work.

  Deliberately, he shoved the thought out of his mind. In an hour he would go back to the bookstore and find out a little more about Gail Stevens. If he did his job right, she would never suspect anything was wrong until it was too late. And by then, it would no longer matter.

  On her knees in front of the Mystery shelves, Gail carefully stacked the latest releases, sorting out the authors in alphabetical order. One of the covers caught her eye, and she turned the book over to scan the back blurb. Although she had a pile of books at home to read, she still found it hard to resist an intriguing plot or interesting characters.

  The doorbell ji
ngled, announcing a customer. Gail placed the book on the shelf and glanced over at the door. Expecting to see one of the locals, she felt a small jolt when a tall, husky stranger stepped into the tiny shop and looked around him with an expectant air.

  Rising to her feet, she watched him as he wandered over to the used books and began idly scanning the various spines. He was dressed in jeans and a dark brown leather jacket, and his dark hair was swept back from a wide forehead to disappear beneath the upturned collar.

  She could see only his profile as he stared at the shelves. It was a strong face, dominated by a slightly hooked nose and a stubborn chin. His mouth turned down at the corners, as if he’d weathered more than his share of hardships.

  She started, wondering where the illogical thought had come from. At that moment, he turned his head and looked up, straight into her eyes.

  She felt the impact of his gaze clear across the room. It was as if a glacier had suddenly scudded over the floor, freezing everything in its path. Shadowed by the bookshelves, his eyes glinted cold gray, and his ruthless mouth looked capable of inflicting verbal pain.

  Normally she didn’t mind being alone in the store. Polly Wilson, the owner of The Book Nook, didn’t usually come in until the lunch hour, but Gail would have been more than happy to see her arrive earlier.

  “Good morning,” Gail said, keeping her expression pleasant. “Is there something I can find for you?” She’d managed to make the pat phrase sound casual, in spite of her flutter of apprehension. There was just something about the man that unnerved her, although she wasn’t sure why.

  “I hope so.” The customer started toward her. As he moved into the light from the windows she almost laughed at herself. His stern features no longer seemed forbidding. In fact, she decided, he was rather nice to look at. A little more polished than her first impression, but definitely rugged.

  When she looked into his eyes, however, she had the strange notion that he was just as wary of her as she was of him.

  “I’m touring the area,” he said, when she reached him. “I’d like to see some travel books.”

  His deep voice, with its faintly husky undertone, seemed to seep right into her bones. She could sense the tension in him now, humming just beneath the surface and barely controlled.

  Telling herself she’d been reading too many murder mysteries, she turned away from him, and felt the tiny hairs on her nape bristling as he followed close behind her to the back of the store to the travel section.

  “Were you interested in a particular area?” she murmured, as she reached for a slim guidebook.

  “The mountains, lakes...anything of interest nearby.”

  Gail nodded, trying to regain her composure. She reached for another book and noticed the slight tremble in her hand. Annoyed with herself, she turned sharply to face him.

  His gaze seemed to bore right through her skull, scattering her concentration. Again she sensed a certain edginess about him, and wondered what it was that kept him so uptight.

  “These might be of some help,” she said. “If you’re interested in skiing, there’s a lodge and chairlift not too far from here.” She tried to recall the name of the resort and for some reason drew a blank.

  He took the books from her, his fingers brushing hers. She could feel the reaction from his touch sneak up her arm to tease the back of her neck. She snatched her hand away and pretended to study the spines of the books on the shelf again.

  His tension was communicating itself to her, she thought, with a flash of irritation. One minute he seemed threatening, the next he was generating sparks of excitement up and down her body.

  “This is a fairly extensive guide of the area,” she said, showing him a thick paperback. “It lists all the hiking and ski trails, as well as the fishing lakes and streams. Of course, this time of year, your choices might be limited....”

  She stopped, her words faltering as his gaze settled on her mouth. She could almost feel the magnetism radiating from him, drawing her onto dangerous ground. With effort, she pulled herself together. Confused by her conflicting thoughts, she thrust the book at him, saying pointedly, “It’s eighteen-fifty.”

  He took the guidebook from her, his eyes never leaving her face. Flipping through the pages without reading any of them, he murmured, “Thank you. This will do just fine.”

  Heading back to the counter, she sucked in a long, slow breath. This was utter nonsense. At thirty-four she should know better than to allow her hormones to govern her good sense. Just because an attractive man wandered into a town where there happened to be a considerable shortage of interesting men did not give her a reason to go to pieces.

  Her enigmatic customer took his time reaching inside his jacket for his wallet, while his gaze flicked around the store. The absurd thought that he was committing the layout of the premises to memory tempted her to smile at her paranoid fears.

  “Do you do much skiing?” he asked abruptly.

  Taken by surprise, she sounded flustered as she answered, “Not a lot...I don’t really have much time.”

  “How far away is the ski lodge?”

  “About ten miles east of here.”

  “Does it have accommodations?”

  “I believe so. I don’t know it well enough to recommend it, though. The book should give you more information about it.”

  “And the name?”

  This time she came up with it. “Fircrest Lodge.” How could she have forgotten that? She had taken Heather to the bunny slopes there just two weeks ago. “That will be nineteen-eighty with the tax,” she said firmly.

  She wasn’t sure she cared for the way he fired questions at her. He had a brusque way of talking, as if he were interrogating her. The thought made her uneasy again. She was only too familiar with that kind of cross-examination.

  Impatiently, she brushed her fears aside. That was all in the past, and she had nothing to fear anymore.

  He handed her a twenty, and she rang up the charge.

  “Are there any good restaurants around here?” he asked.

  “So far I’ve only seen the diner on the corner and the one in the Alpine Inn.”

  She gave him his change, dropping it into his open palm. “There’s a Chinese restaurant on Fourth Street, across from a steakhouse. I don’t know what they’re like—I usually eat lunch at the diner. There’re also a couple of fast-food places farther down the road. You might have seen them when you came in, unless you came down from Canada?”

  He shook his head. “Seattle. I must have passed them in the dark last night.”

  “They close early.” She dropped his purchase into a bag with the receipt and held it out to him. “They’re kind of set back in the trees.”

  “I’ll watch out for them.” He took the bag from her, his fingers once more brushing against hers.

  This time she suppressed her reaction, wondering if he had deliberately engineered the contact. Almost immediately she dismissed the notion as ridiculous. She watched him glance around the stacked shelves of books once more.

  “What time do you close?” he asked, as he tucked the book inside his jacket. “I might want to come back later and look for something to read.”

  Her heart skipped, and she dropped her gaze. “We close at six, except for Friday night when we’re open until nine.” Staring at the receipt book, she concentrated on entering the sale.

  “Thank you.”

  Without looking up, she gave a slight nod, her fingers gripping the pen until she heard the door close behind him. Finally able to relax, she slowly let out a breath.

  She wasn’t sure which had disturbed her the most—his subtle sensuality or the faint aura of danger she sensed behind those magnetic eyes. She had to stop imagining the worst, she thought, impatient with her irrational fears.

  She’d fought hard to put the past behind her and rid herself of her paranoia. She wasn’t about to let one obscure stranger stir up all that anxiety again, and give her more sleepless nights. She’d worke
d too hard to overcome her insecurity.

  The locals were beginning to accept her now, and Heather, just like a typical five-year-old, had adjusted to her new environment almost at once. She hadn’t even mentioned her father in weeks.

  Only one person knew their real names, and that was Polly. They were safe in this little town.

  Wandering back to the Mystery shelves, Gail allowed her mind to return to that fateful day when she’d arrived in Mellow Springs. She’d been pretty desperate at the time. She and Heather had left Portland with little more than the clothes on their backs, and no clear idea where they were going.

  They had needed a place to hide, a place to find peace, where Heather could grow up and where Gail could forget the horror of the past. Driven by an urgency she couldn’t explain, Gail had stayed at the wheel until she could no longer see. Her exhaustion had caught up with her in Mellow Springs.

  She had woken up the next morning in the tiny town that was no more than a dot on the map, and she had decided that Providence had taken a hand. Assuming the name “Kate Morris,” she’d rented a house, then looked for a job.

  Stepping into the bookstore one day, she’d come face-to-face with a slight woman who wore her iron gray hair scraped back from her face in a bun, making her bony features look even more austere. Nevertheless her bright blue eyes danced merrily behind her rimless glasses, and Gail had taken an immediate liking to the spry, middle-aged owner.

  Polly had seemed enchanted with Heather, and upon learning that “Kate” was looking for a job, had offered her a position at the store, saying she was tired of working full time and could use the help. There wasn’t much to do except read in Mellow Springs, she’d told Gail, and the bookstore did a brisk trade.

  Gail had given Polly a plausible story to explain why it was so imperative that no one know her real name. Her in-laws were vindictive and wanted to take their grandchild away from her. They had money and power, and she was worried they would succeed, so she’d taken Heather away to start a new life.