Shotgun Daddy by Harper Allen

Author:Harper Allen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Suspense
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2004-06-04T05:00:00+00:00

“DEL’S GRETA WAS A SUPERMODEL before she quit ten years ago in her early thirties and began concentrating on painting.” Susannah, Tye’s wife, stepped back from a seated Caro, frowned and used the tips of the scissors to make one last careful snip. “Since you didn’t want to wait for her to do this when she returns home tomorrow from her Albuquerque gallery showing, I figured having her talk me through it on the phone was the next best thing. What do you think, Tess?”

Connor’s wife looked thoughtful. “I think it might just suit you better this way, Caro. Have a look.”

The Double B women were doing their best to raise her spirits, Caro thought, listlessly taking the hand mirror that Tess was holding out to her and allowing Susannah to swivel her chair around to face the big mirror over the dresser. Upon her return to the ranch an hour ago, after hearing a truncated version of her ordeal from a grim-faced Gabe, Susannah had whipped off the apron she’d been wearing to prepare supper and she and Tess had hustled Caro into the bedroom. While Susannah had been trying to contact Greta, who hadn’t been at the art gallery but whom Susannah had finally tracked down at her hotel, Tess had taken care of Emily’s evening bottle.

Neither woman had asked for details about what had happened, and for that she was grateful. She was going to have to talk about it eventually, but right now it was all she could do to keep herself under some semblance of control—and what had left her most shaken wasn’t the accident, but the inexplicable action her rescuer had taken.

Susannah and Tess understand that, Caro thought. Any woman would. What that man did to me was a violation.

Her reaction had nothing to do with vanity, and everything to do with feeling powerless. It had been a type of rape. With little interest she looked in the dresser mirror and saw a stranger staring back at her.

Caro Moore had had patrician good looks, she thought slowly. Pale hair had swept straight from an alabaster brow to fall in a smooth satin flow halfway down her back. Sometimes it had been twisted into a low chignon or held in place with a plain clasp, but it had always given an icily fragile, touch-me-not impression.

The stranger in the mirror didn’t look fragile or princesslike at all. Edgy bangs skimmed arched eyebrows. Chunky layers swung freely inches above her shoulders. She looked as if she would be equally at ease whether in buttery black leather and slightly tight jeans or a designer suit and pearls.

The stranger in the mirror didn’t look powerless. She looked sexy and tough and like a force to be reckoned with. She looked strong, Caro decided. Better than that, she felt strong. Strong and—

“And damn mad,” she said, her voice low and determined. “Mad enough to stop letting everyone shunt her off to the sidelines and start taking an active part in this investigation.

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