Her Sweet Talkin' Man

MYRNA MACKENZIE,

married to her high school sweetheart, with two (very tall and always hungry) teenage sons, has been blessed by the joys of family. She's had the chance to be a teacher and to learn all the cool things that kids can teach us about human nature. She's traveled, hiked mountains, rafted white water and seen bear and elk up close. And, since 1993, when she began writing for Silhouette, she's also had the privilege of being able to share the stories she loves to write with readers around the world. Winner of the Holt Medallion honoring outstanding literary talent, and a finalist in the Readers' Choice Awards and the Orange Rose contest, Myrna likes to think of herself as a professional (but hardworking) daydreamer.

Myrna was thrilled when she was asked to be part of the LONE STAR COUNTRY CLUB continuity. The opportunity to work with some of her favorite authors, to be a part of such an exciting and complex story and to have the chance to flesh out characters who were so much fun to work with has been a joy. You can contact Myrna by writing to her at P.O. Box 225, LaGrange, Illinois 60525 or by visiting her Web site at www.myrnamackenzie.com.

Where Texas society reigns supreme—and appearances are
everything.

A sexy playboy and an irresistible single mom get more than they bargained for when a stalker threatens their newfound romance.

Ace Turner Carson:
He's in Mission Creek to claim an inheritance he feels is rightfully his. But spending just a few days with the wealthy Carsons—and a beautiful “little lady”—gives Ace a sense of belonging he's never experienced…and a family to come home to.

Crystal Bennett:
While stuck in a broken-down elevator, a smooth-talking playboy quickly insinuates himself into Crystal's heart, and she is forced to rethink her ability to trust men. Especially once Ace puts his own life on the line for her child…

A shadow in Mission Creek:
The ribbon is cut on the new maternity wing of Mission Creek Memorial Hospital. Everyone who's anyone attends the ceremony…as does a stranger who lurks in the background with ulterior motives of his own.

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

“W
hoa, this is going to be some family reunion. Especially since the rest of the family doesn't even know I exist,” Ace Turner Carson said to himself as he pulled his white sedan into the above-ground parking garage of the Mission Creek Memorial Hospital.

No surprise, though, since he himself hadn't even known his true roots until three months ago when his mother died.

But now he knew. Something he almost wished he didn't know, he thought with a grimace. And he'd had to take the next step and come to Mission Creek, Texas. His mother had suffered years of humiliation and pain after she'd been abandoned by the man she loved. Ford Carson deserved to suffer a little humiliation in kind.

Who better to engineer that than a hell-raising bad seed of an unwanted son?

“So bring on the family reunion,” Ace whispered. “And let's make it as public an event as possible. Past time to get in the dance, buddy.”

Besides, Ace had to admit, this could be fun—in spite of all his misgivings about being here in this unfamiliar town where the wealthy Carsons had so much influence, in spite of his reluctance even to meet
the man who had given him life. He smiled. Could be real fun. Especially if he hammed things up a bit and worked hard at being an embarrassment to his dear old dad.

“Oh, yes, this is going to involve some intense concentration, Carson. Some single-minded devotion.”

Which was why when he saw a petite, well-curved redhead making a beeline for the parking-garage elevator, which was where he was headed, Ace ignored his automatic response to her undeniably appealing body.

“No distractions,” he reminded himself. “You came here for a reason.”

Yes, but that didn't mean he'd gone completely numb to the world and blind to the things that made a man a man and a woman a woman. He might be on a single-minded quest, but this was no ordinary woman. And, after all, he wasn't going to do anything but look, anyway. And maybe flirt—just a bit. An elevator ride didn't leave a man time for much more.

As she drew nearer and scanned her surroundings, clearly on the alert for thugs and wolves on the prowl, he noted her wide hazel eyes, which held a hint of innocence in spite of the fact that she appeared to be in her early thirties. Interesting. What was even more interesting was that below the hemline of her knee-length ice-blue suit was a pair of the finest legs ever to grace Texas, or even the planet. Her hair was a mass of silk held back with silver clips. The strands practically begged for a man to unsnap those clips and sift through the silk with his fingertips.

Of course, touching her was absolutely out of the question. He wanted to admire her, not distress her. So when an elderly couple turned down the aisle on their way to the elevator, too, Ace grinned at them and moved forward. The red-haired beauty would know she was safe now.

He sauntered toward the elevator, his long legs taking him there ahead of her.

“Allow me to get that for you, darlin”' he said, stepping forward to push the elevator button. “Looks like your hands are full.”

The lady stopped in her tracks. She had reached out for the button at the same moment he had, and she looked down at his hand, which was just over her own. Her skin nearly met his. He could feel her warmth. He could feel something else radiating from her. Awareness?

“Thank you, sir,” she said. “But I think you're mistaken about my inability to handle such a simple task. After all, my hands aren't nearly full. I'm only carrying a clipboard. And I'm truly sorry, but I don't
ever
answer to the name darlin'.”

He raised a brow because, after all, she
had
just answered.

A slight blush turned her cheeks an endearing rose as she realized her mistake. And did he say that her eyes held a trace of innocence? Well, yes, they did, but they could also flash intense green sparks when she was perturbed. And she appeared to be pretty darn perturbed right now.

Ace couldn't help smiling at the thought—and he couldn't help being intrigued. That blush and those
eyes told him she hadn't had much experience with men like him, who blatantly spoke their minds or didn't bother hiding their interest. But she didn't back away. Her hair swung back when she dared to look up and stare him straight into his eyes. That was fortunate for him, since the movement exposed a neck that was long and pretty and pale. It made him dream of nibbling that tender spot just beneath her ear to see if he could make her sigh and gasp.

His entire body responded to the thought, an overly intense reaction that gave him pause.

Careful, buddy, he warned himself. Easy. She hadn't revealed her skin on purpose and would no doubt be appalled if she knew that the neat little collar of her suit made him think of peeling back the lapels and letting his fingers brush her flesh. She was obviously a by-the-book, never-break-the-rules kind of lady and he was a prowling alley cat, a man who never, ever touched a woman who hadn't been born a little wild and who liked things that way. Seeing how
she
was, however, he should probably just apologize and call the game off.

“You're right. I misspoke. Excuse me,” he said as the elderly couple and the elevator arrived and he motioned everyone in ahead of him with a slight bow. But then he stepped in behind the redhead, and the orange-blossom scent of her slipped in and caught him unawares. Nothing like the enticing scent of a lovely woman to play havoc with a man's good intentions.

He moved in just a touch closer to her than was
proper. “I'll let you push
this
button if it makes you feel better,” he murmured, gazing into her eyes.

Those eyes blinked. “Excuse me?” She turned a delicious shade of pink.

The old man chuckled. His wife smiled but shook her head at Ace as if to reprimand him for his manners.

“I need to get off at the main floor, darlin',” he directed, his lips twitching as he tried to hold back his smile. His hazel-eyed lady was clearly struggling to prove to the world that she was terribly sophisticated and dignified. He wouldn't spoil her illusions and announce that he'd seen she was still untutored in the ways of the wild.

Anyone could see that, he thought as she pushed the button for him and then one for the other couple. That prim little telltale voice might have been silent as the elevator descended, but when the doors opened at the next floor and the elderly couple exited, his lady clearly showed signs of common sense and a healthy dose of wariness. She moved to the corner and glanced up at him nervously.

Instantly Ace felt ashamed to know that he was the cause of her fear. He'd teased her earlier because he'd wanted to see what happened to her eyes when her emotions ran away with her. Still, frightening or hurting a woman in any way was just about the lowest thing a man could do.

He stepped away, leaned back against the corner farthest from her and crossed his arms to show her that he wasn't going to grab her. “You were right to correct my bad manners,” he said. “I apologize.
We're strangers, and you're smart not to have anything to do with anyone you haven't been properly introduced to.”

Who in hell in Mission Creek, Texas, would introduce him to anyone? No one knew who he was.

Once they did discover his identity and what kind of man he really was, they sure as Satan weren't going to welcome him, much less begin introducing him to the women of the community.

The redheaded beauty looked suddenly chagrinned.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “You're probably here for the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new maternity ward. You're a guest, and you should be treated as such.”

She didn't look any more at ease with him than she had, but he finally realized that she was wearing some sort of hospital badge. She worked here and felt she had to put up with whatever he dished out. Now that she'd decided he had a legitimate reason for being here, she felt that she had to be kind to him, even to apologize when he had been in the wrong. Sudden fierce anger surged through Ace. Anger at himself for putting her in a position where she felt she had to be gracious to a man who had obviously invaded her comfort zone. Ironic. He knew better than anyone that women often bore the brunt of men's mistakes, yet here he was making a mistake and dumping the blame on his lovely victim. Hell, he was the one in the wrong. He
was
here for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, but his intentions were anything but innocent.

He shook his head and held up one hand to stop her from humbling herself before him any more.

“Ma'am,” he said, dredging up a trace of charm and humor to at least try to put her at ease. “You were right not to want to talk to me. I've got a reputation as a flirt and an opportunistic rover. And a woman these days can never be too careful. Just keep doing what you're doing. It's the smartest way to be.”

There. He could almost feel her relaxing.

For some reason that didn't make him feel good, because he realized that his words were true. A woman couldn't be too careful. If a man could put her at ease just with a few well-chosen words, then some no-good tomcat could take advantage of her, catch her off guard. But…well, heck, he couldn't be the guardian of the world. He wasn't even going to be in Mission Creek that long. Just long enough to kick up some dust, leave an impression and settle an old score. This woman, whoever she was, probably had a husband who could look after her. Besides, this slowpoke of an elevator was almost to the right floor, the main level.

Ace stood straighter, readying himself to get off and meet whatever was to come in the next few hours.

He stared up at the numbers on the digital readout.

Nothing happened.

Silence settled over the car.

The woman looked up anxiously at the numbers, which still didn't appear to be doing anything.

And then the silence seemed to get deeper. The soft creaking of the car ceased entirely. The lights flickered and then held.

But the car didn't buck up and continue on its way. There were no sounds of movement. There was just
a lot of quiet and waiting. In the void of anything else, Ace could hear the beauty's breathing. He looked at her and saw her body stiffen. She stared up at the floor numbers as if willing them to move.

“I…I think we may be stuck.” Her soft voice trembled slightly. She pushed the button for the floor, then pushed it again. And again.

Nothing happened.

“Oh, no.” She turned frightened eyes to Ace. She licked her lips nervously. All her cool facade of moments before drained away. “I…I think…” she began, and then stopped as if her mind was a jumble, as if she was too terrified to speak.

“Shh,” he whispered. “It's all right. I'm sure things will get moving soon.” Although he didn't know anything of the sort.

No matter. Those big hazel eyes were pools of lost hopes. Her clipboard slid to the floor, and her small hands curled into tight fists.

“I'm…I'm sure you're right,” she managed to get out, but her teeth chattered in spite of the fact that it was July in Texas and the air-conditioning seemed to have gone out with the power.

Ace took one look at the woe in her face, the way she was struggling to control herself in front of him when she was clearly terrified, and he wanted to take the elevator apart for her, to bodily move the car to the right floor.

“Let's just try the emergency phone,” he said, dropping his voice to a low soothing tone as he reached for the receiver. Calmly he explained to the
security officer who answered that he and another passenger were caught between floors.

“He's going to get the technicians,” Ace told the woman when he hung up.

She almost visibly took control of herself. Her pretty lips tightening, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and gave a quick nod. “Okay,” she said faintly. “That's very good.”

But her eyes were just a touch too wide. Ace thought he still detected a faint tremble in her voice.

“We'll be out of here in no time, sunshine.” He flashed her a reassuring smile. “Or am I not allowed to call you sunshine?”

Something that might have been a smile in other circumstances eased some of the tension around her lips. “I'm really sorry to be acting like such a fool.” Her soft red curls slid against her cheeks as she shook her head. “It's rather embarrassing to admit but…I'm afraid I'm not very good in small spaces. At least not when I'm stuck in one.”

He wanted to ask why. Had something happened in her past that had brought on these feelings of claustrophobia? But then, he was touchy about his own past. He certainly didn't ask others about theirs.

“We'll pretend that we're not in a small space, then,” he said. “Would you mind if I suggested…that is, why don't you close your eyes for a bit?”

He laughed as her eyes opened wider. “That isn't exactly what I meant, sunshine.”

“I know. I just…” She took a deep shuddery breath.

“It's just so you won't see where you are, then you won't think about it so much. I won't touch you,” he said. “I promise. Here, put your hand on the phone. If I do anything or say anything you don't like, even slightly, you call for help. I don't think they'll have any difficulty identifying me as the culprit once they get us out of here.”

She almost managed a smile. He was glad that by keeping her talking, she was forgetting her fears for a moment. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. And her lashes drifted shut, hiding those gorgeous hazel eyes from his view.

“What now?” she asked.

“How about this? Picture something wonderful,” he suggested. “Someplace really big and open. The ocean.”

She laughed softly, a low husky sound that would have been right at home in a setting that included satin sheets, candles and a man's fingertips caressing her skin. “I've never been to the ocean.”

“Hmm, well, you should go someday,” he said, even though he'd never been to the ocean, either. “You should definitely insist that your husband take you there.” It didn't hurt to remind himself that she probably was some man's treasure, and he, Ace Turner Carson, had no business thinking of her in connection with satin sheets, candles or touching.