Kidnapped and confined in a harem -- that's not the scenario Charlotte Quade envisioned when she prayed for just one grand adventure before sailing home to Washington Territory from Europe. While exploring the ancient, exotic island kingdom of Riz, Charlotte foolishly lost her way. In a dizzying moment, she was snatched, bound up in a sack and unceremoniously dumped -- completely naked! -- in the ship's cabin of the very same man who had caught her fancy as a young girl in Seattle: Captain Patrick Trevarran.But Charlotte's dream lover turned out to be no gentleman! He had once gallantly fetched her, as a mischievous teenager,from the riggings of his ship, but now he appraised her with exasperation and quickly packed her off to the harem of a sultan friend. When they were reunited -- as much by mercy as by fate -- it was clear that Patrick wished merely to tease and trifle with this pretty, rebellious American. But, through their adventure, Charlotte had discovered a provocative man torn between recklessness and devotion, between storm and calm. Now, with all the strength and passion she possessed, Charlotte would chart a course that would sweep them at last to their destiny -- a glorious and resounding love.From Publishers WeeklyIn 1877 Charlotte Quade has finished her tour of Europe and is longing for one " glorious adventure" before returning home to Washington Territory. No sooner does she express that desire in a letter to her sister than she is kidnapped in a marketplace on the island of Riz while traveling with family friends. The prize in a poker game, she is then delivered as a gift to Patrick Trevarren, a ship's captain on whom she has had a crush since she was caught climbing his rigging at the age of 13. Patrick deposits her in his friend the sultan Khalif's harem so that he can complete some business before accompanying her to Seattle, but she fears that he has abandoned her and tries to escape. To avoid punishment for her escape, she is forced to marry Patrick when he returns. The two then travel together but are soon called back to assist Khalif when his evil half brother tries to take over the palace. Miller ( Yankee Wife ) fills this frenetically paced romance with spirited repartee meant to recall The Taming of the Shrew, but while Charlotte is appealing and clever, her love interest is not her intellectual match, and his insistences that she stay out of trouble become tiresome. Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc. About the AuthorLinda Lael Miller is the author of seventy historical and contemporary romance novels, many of which are set in the American West. She was awarded the Romance Writers of America's prestigious Lifetime Achievement Award in 2007.

The best laid plans…Halli Sanders spent two years planning the trip of a lifetime to Italy. Her itinerary did not include being stranded by her siblings, kidnapped by a sexy American movie star, dodging bullets, or fleeing criminals in a car chase around Lake Como. And that's just in the first three hours.…often go awry.Trent Tomlin put his movie career on hold to investigate his brother's murder-ruled-suicide at his Italian villa. He's closing in on the suspects when an American tourist unwittingly films the murder of the retired cop helping him. The killers will stop at nothing to get the evidence—including holding Halli's family as collateral.Life's a little different unscripted.Thrust into the role of real-life hero, Trent finds himself falling for the Plain Jane whose beauty blossoms with every challenge they face. But how can he keep the evidence from falling into the wrong hands and get justice for his brother and friend without betraying Halli and her family?Excerpt:Trent cast his own quick glance in the rearview mirror, pressure squeezing his body like a starving boa constrictor as he searched for the men who'd spotted her and her camera across the bay. By his amateur calculations, he figured he had about three more minutes. If they were lucky.Pushing up to sit on the headrest, he prepared to turn on the superstar charm that had brought him such success at the box office.“I'm waiting for my brother and sister,” she said before he could speak.So that's who'd driven off as he watched the scene unfold from one street above and behind her. He lifted a tense shoulder in a careless gesture. “Quick spin around town, and I'll bring you right back. They'll never know you were gone, sugar.”Her eyebrows drew together above those deep blue eyes. Damn. He fought his own frown. Based on previous experience with star-struck women, she should've jumped in at the first invitation. Wasn't it just his luck, this one had common sense.Leaving the car running, he swung his legs over the door and rounded the front of the convertible. His heart thumped with each step as he tried to figure out the best way to get her out of this mess. It was one thing when he was following a script, but how the hell did one orchestrate a rescue in real life when the rescuee wouldn't cooperate and he had no time to explain the danger? It's not like he could play her the recording tucked in his pocket.The girl backed away from his approach. He fought back rising apprehension and forced an easy smile.“Look, I appreciate the offer, Shain, but—”“Trent.”“Right.” Her blush deepened. “I know. Trent. But I—”“I need you to get in the car.” As an afterthought, he added, “Please.”“Um…”He used her glance down the road as cover for his own. Still time, yet his control slipped. “Seriously. Get in.”The sharp command widened her eyes. Suspicion darkened them to navy, and she took another step backward. Then her shoulders squared while her gaze narrowed with determination. “No.”The right taillight on his Alfa Romeo exploded. Trent ducked reflexively as bits of plastic flew in all directions. Adrenaline spiked through him, but other than a sharp reactive jerk, the girl just stood there holding her camera. Trent lunged forward, grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the car.“Hey—let me go!” She pulled back with surprising strength.He picked her up and shoved her head first into the passenger seat, then vaulted over her to slip behind the wheel. Heartbeat thundering in his ears, he gunned the gas with a sickening grinding of gears before the convertible shot out into traffic amidst screeching tires and blaring horns.

In a high-stakes world of privilege, betrayal, and the sexy thrill of the unknown, you never know where a dangerous distraction will lead . . . Cal Hart walks a blurred line of honor. The rock-hard former Marine has his lethal skills at the service of the highest bidder. Until a contract comes in to kill Lana Vanderpoel, the sultry, charismatic heiress and billionaire's daughter. She's way too sexy to end up at the wrong end of a silencer. So Cal takes the job—and starts planning how to get Lana to safety while he unearths who's behind the threat . . . Lana only knows she's been kidnapped—and she'll fight tooth and nail against whoever has snatched her from her life. Her stern-faced captor sends a tremor of ice through her veins, yet a thrill lies beneath her unease. He's dark and dangerous, his body ripped, honed, and capable. But lust isn't the same as trust—and whether or not she can believe what Cal's telling her, there's at least one...

Sheryl Lister presents a second-chance holiday romance as her seasonal gift to you—her readers!Will former lovers be reunited just in time for Christmas...Melissa Tucker broke off her no-strings attached liaison with Kyle Jamison the minute she realized that she didn't just like him—she'd gone and fallen in love with him. Now, months later, the former police detective is the only one she can turn to when the threatening notes she's been receiving start to escalate. Only she didn't count on still wanting him...Kyle shared a sensual affair with Melissa and was completely blindsided when she broke things off. Granted he'd made his position against long-term relationships very clear at the start, but she's the one woman he hasn't been able to forget and now that he has the chance, he intends to prove to her that he is indeed a one-woman man.

Product DescriptionEveryone in Ashley O'Ballivan's life is marrying and starting families—except her. But what date can compare to Jack McCall, the man who broke her heart years ago?And now he's mysteriously back. But he isn't who she thinks he is.After a dangerous mission working for the DEA, security expert Jack McCall rents a room in Ashley's bed-and-breakfast. For her sake, he must keep his distance. But his feelings for her are so powerful that only his heart remains off-limits. To protect her—from his enemies and himself—he has to leave…vowing to fight his way home to her and Stone Creek forever. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.Ashley O'Ballivan dropped the last string of Christmas lights into a plastic storage container, resisting an uncharacteristic urge to kick the thing into the corner of the attic instead of stacking it with the others. For her, the holidays had been anything but merry and bright; in fact, the whole year had basically sucked. But for her brother, Brad, and sister Olivia, it qualified as a personal best—both of them were happily married. Even her workaholic twin, Melissa, had had a date for New Year's Eve.Ashley, on the other hand, had spent the night alone, sipping nonalcoholic wine in front of the portable TV set in her study, waiting for the ball to drop in Times Square.How lame was that?It was worse than lame—it was pathetic.She wasn't even thirty yet, and she was well on her way to old age.With a sigh, Ashley turned from the dusty hodgepodge surrounding her—she went all out, at the Mountain View Bed and Breakfast, for every red-letter day on the calendar—and headed for the attic stairs. As she reached the bottom, stepping into the corridor just off the kitchen, a familiar car horn sounded from the driveway in front of the detached garage. It could only be Olivia's ancient Suburban.Ashley had mixed feelings as she hoisted the ladder-steep steps back up into the ceiling. She loved her older sister dearly and was delighted that Olivia had found true love with Tanner Quinn, but since their mother's funeral a few months before, there had been a strain between them.Neither Brad nor Olivia nor Melissa had shed a single tear for Delia O'Ballivan—not during the church service or the graveside ceremony or the wake. Okay, so there wasn't a greeting card category for the kind of mother Delia had been—she'd deserted the family long ago, and gradually destroyed herself through a long series of tragically bad choices. For all that, she'd still been the woman who had given birth to them all.Didn't that count for something?A rap sounded at the back door, as distinctive as the car horn, and Olivia's glowing, pregnancy-rounded face filled one of the frost-trimmed panes in the window.Oddly self-conscious in her jeans and T-shirt and an ancient flannel shirt from the back of her closet, Ashley mouthed, "It's not locked."Beaming, Olivia opened the door and waddled across the threshold. She was due to deliver her and Tanner's first child in a matter of days, if not hours, and from the looks of her, Ashley surmised she was carrying either quadruplets or a Sumo wrestler."You know you don't have to knock," Ashley said, keeping her distance.Olivia smiled, a bit wistfully it seemed to Ashley, and opened their grandfather Big John's old barn coat to reveal a small white cat with one blue eye and one green one."Oh, no you don't," Ashley bristled.Olivia, a veterinarian as well as Stone Creek, Arizona's one and only real-deal animal communicator, bent awkwardly to set the kitten on Ashley's immaculate kitchen floor, where it meowed pitifully and turned in a little circle, pursuing its fluffy tail. Every stray dog, cat or bird in the county seemed to find its way to Olivia eventually, like immigrants gravitating toward the Statue of Liberty.Two years ago, at Christmas, she'd even been approached by a reindeer named Rodney."Meet Mrs. Wiggins," Olivia chimed, undaunted. Her china-blue eyes danced beneath the dark, sleek fringe of her bangs, but there was a wary look in them that bothered Ashley…even shamed her a little. The two of them had always been close. Did Olivia think Ashley was jealous of her new life with Tanner and his precocious fourteen-year-old daughter, Sophie?"I suppose she's already told you her life story," Ashley said, nodding toward the cat, scrubbing her hands down the thighs of her jeans once and then heading for the sink to wash up before filling the electric kettle. At least that hadn't changed—they always had tea together, whenever Olivia dropped by—which was less and less often these days.After all, unlike Ashley, Olivia had a life.Olivia crooked up a corner of her mouth and began struggling out of the old plaid woolen coat, flecked, as always, with bits of straw. Some things never changed— even with Tanner's money, Olivia still dressed like what she was, a country veterinarian."Not much to tell," Livie answered with a slight lift of one shoulder, as nonchalantly as if telepathic exchanges with all manner of finned, feathered and furred creatures were commonplace. "She's only fourteen weeks old, so she hasn't had time to build up much of an autobiography.""I do not want a cat," Ashley informed her sister.Olivia hauled back a chair at the table and collapsed into it. She was wearing gum boots, as usual, and they looked none too clean. "You only think you don't want Mrs. Wiggins," she said. "She needs you and, whether you know it or not, you need her."Ashley turned back to the kettle, trying to ignore the ball of cuteness chasing its tail in the middle of the kitchen floor. She was irritated, but worried, too. She looked back at Olivia over one stiff shoulder. "Should you be out and about, as pregnant as you are?"Olivia smiled, serene as a Botticelli Madonna. "Pregnancy isn't a matter of degrees, Ash," she said. "One either is or isn't.""You're pale," Ashley fretted. She'd lost so many loved ones—both parents, her beloved granddad, Big John. If anything happened to any of her siblings, whatever their differences, she wouldn't be able to bear it."Just brew the tea," Olivia said quietly. "I'm perfectly all right."While Ashley didn't have her sister's gift for talking to animals, she was intuitive, and her nerves felt all twitchy, a clear sign that something unexpected was about to happen. She plugged in the kettle and joined Olivia at the table. "Is anything wrong?""Funny you should ask," Olivia answered, and though the soft smile still rested on her lips, her eyes were solemn. "I came here to ask you the same question. Even though I already know the answer."As much as she hated the uneasiness that had sprung up between herself and her sisters and brother, Ashley tended to bounce away from any mention of the subject like a pinball in a lively game. She sprang right up out of her chair and crossed to the antique breakfront to fetch two delicate china cups from behind the glass doors, full of strange urgency."Ash," Olivia said patiently.Ashley kept her back to her sister and lowered her head. "I've just been a little blue lately, Liv," she admitted softly. "That's all."She would never get to know her mother.The holidays had been a downer.Not a single guest had checked into her Victorian bed-and-breakfast since before Thanksgiving, which meant she was two payments behind on the private mortgage Brad had given her to buy the place several years before. It wasn't that her brother had been pressing her for the money—he'd offered her the deed, free and clear, the day the deal was closed, but she'd insisted on repaying him every cent.On top of all that, she hadn't heard a word from Jack McCall since his last visit, six months ago. He'd suddenly packed his bags and left one sultry summer night, while she was sleeping off their most recent bout of lovemaking, without so much as a good-bye.Would it have killed him to wake her up and explain? Or just leave a damn note? Maybe pick up a phone?"It's because of Mom," Olivia said. "You're grieving for the woman she never was, and that's okay, Ashley. But it might help if you talked to one of us about how you feel."Weary rage surged through Ashley. She spun around to face Olivia, causing her sneakers to make a squeaking sound against the freshly waxed floor, remembered that her sister was about to have a baby, and sucked all her frustration and fury back in on one ragged breath."Let's not go there, Livie," she said.The kitten scrabbled at one leg of Ashley's jeans and, without thinking, she bent to scoop the tiny creature up into her arms. Minute, silky ears twitched under her chin, and Mrs. Wiggins purred as though powered by batteries, snuggling against her neck.Olivia smiled again, still wistful. "You're pretty angry with us, aren't you?" she asked gently. "Brad and Melissa and me, I mean.""No," Ashley lied, wanting to put the kitten down but unable to do so. Somehow, nearly weightless as that cat was, it made her feel anchored instead of set adrift."Come on," Olivia challenged quietly. "If I weren't nine and a half months along, you'd be in my face right now."Ashley bit down hard on her lower lip and said nothing."Things can't change if we don't talk," Olivia persisted.Ashley swallowed painfully. Anything she said would probably come out sounding like self-pity, and Ashley was too proud to feel sorry for herself, but she also knew her sister. Olivia wasn't about to let her off the hook, squirm though she might. "It's just that nothing seems to be working," she confessed, blinking back tears. "The business. Jack. That damn computer you insisted I needed."The kettle boiled, emitting a shrill whistle and clouds of steam.Still cradling the kitten under her chin, Ashley unplugged the cord with a wrenching motion of her free hand."Sit down," Olivia said, rising laboriously from her chair. "I'll make the tea.""No, you won't!""I'm pregnant, Ashley," Olivia replied, "not incapacitated."Ashley skulked back to the table, sat down, the tea forgotten. The kitten inched down her flannel work shirt to her lap and made a graceful leap to the floor."Talk to me," Olivia prodded, trundling toward the counter.Ashley's vision seemed to narrow to a pinpoint, and when it widened again, she swayed in her chair, suddenly dizzy. If her blond hair hadn't been pulled...

Titan Group is expanding. New recruits mean Jared Westin has potential new hires to scrutinize. What he didn't expect was his very pregnant wife Sugar to finagle her way onto the surveillance team as the prospects were assessed.Her involvement in the simple observation goes dangerously wrong. She and best friend Lexi Black stumble into a problem with Russian mobsters. Sugar is forced to draw on her old ATF tricks, but weeks from her due date, she has no choice but to team up with Bishop O'Kane, a potential new recruit and Parker Black, Lexi's hacker husband, who must go undercover.This is special ops novella is packed with high-stakes crime and intrigue, a baby story for Boss Man, and two steamy romances for two of Titan's favorite couples.

The Carsons of Mustang Creek: three men who embody the West and define what it means to be a rancher, a cowboy and a hero in this brand-new series from the queen of Western romance SLATER CARSON might be a filmmaker by trade, but he's still a cowboy at heart—and he knows the value of a hard day's work under the hot Wyoming sun. So when he sees troubled teen Ryder heading down a dangerous path, he offers the boy a job on the ranch he shares with his two younger brothers. And since Ryder's guardian is the gorgeous new Mustang Creek resort manager, Grace Emery, Slater figures it can't hurt to keep a closer eye on her, as well... GRACE EMERY doesn't have time for romance. Between settling into her new job and caring for her ex-husband's rebellious son, her attraction to larger-than-life Slater is a distraction she can't afford. But when an unexpected threat emerges, she'll discover just how far Slater will go to protect what matters...

Appearances can be Deceiving…Vanessa Lawrence had a talent: falling for the wrong man. Case in point, her ex-husband. On the outside, the football player had looked perfect—handsome and rich. But Mr. Perfect turned out to be a lying, manipulative philanderer, and Vanessa vowed never to compromise herself for a man again.Then she met Nick DeAngelo. He was also handsome and rich. And he just happened to be a former football player. His disarming charm gave her a rush, and he sure knew how to sweep a girl off her feet. But he was so much like her ex-husband…could she trust him? Could she trust herself?Review"Miller tugs at the heartstrings as few authors can." -Publishers Weekly"Linda Lael Miller creates vibrant characters and stories I defy you to forget." -#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber"Strong characterization and a vivid western setting make for a fine historical romance." -Publishers Weekly on McKettrick's Choice"Likable protagonists, a wealth of memorable secondary characters and a...heart-touching plot make this warm, family-centered, information-rich 1910 prequel to Miller's ‘ Montana Creeds' trilogy a good choice for series fans and new readers as well." -Library Journal on A Creed Country Christmas"Completely wonderful. Austin's interactions with Paige are fun and lively and the mystery that began in Tate's story ends with Austin's love story and adds quite a suspenseful punch." -RT Book Reviews on McKettricks of Texas: Austin"A passionate love too long denied drives the action in this multifaceted, emotionally rich reunion story that overflows with breathtaking sexual chemistry." -Library Journal on McKettricks of Texas: Tate Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.This particular strain of flu, Nick DeAngelo decided, had been brought to Earth by hostile aliens determined to wipe out the entire planet—starting, evidently, with an ex-jock who owned one of the best Italian restaurants in Seattle.Sprawled on the couch in the living room of his apartment, he plucked a handful of tissues from the box on the floor beside him and crammed them against his face just in time to absorb an explosive sneeze. He was covered in mentholated rub from his nose to his belly button, and while his forehead was hot to the touch, the rest of him was racked with chills.He wondered when Mike Wallace would burst through the door, wanting the story. It was time to alert the masses to impending doom.Did you actually see these aliens, Mr. DeAngelo?Call me Nick. Of course I didn't see them. They must have gotten me when I was sleeping.The imaginary interview was interrupted by the jangling of the telephone, which, like the box of tissues, was within reach. Hoping for sympathy, he dug the receiver out from between the cushions and rasped out a hoarse hello."Still under the weather, huh?" The voice belonged to his younger sister, Gina, and it showed a marked lack of commiseration. "Listen, if I wasn't afraid of catching whatever it is you've got and missing my exams next week, I'd definitely come over and take care of you."Nick sagged against the back of the sofa, one hand to his fevered forehead. "Your concern is touching, Gina," he coughed out."I could call Aunt Carlotta," Gina was quick to suggest. She was a bright kid, a psychology major at the University of Washington, and she knew which buttons to push. "I'm sure she'd love to move into your apartment and spend the next two weeks dragging you back from the threshold of death."Nick thought of his aunt with affectionate dread. It was in her honor that he'd slathered himself with mentholated goo. "This is not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill flu, you know," he said.Gina laughed. "I'll alert the science department at school—I'm sure they'll want to send a research team directly to your place."Privately Nick considered that to be a viable idea, but he refrained from saying so, knowing it would only invite more callous mockery. "You have no heart," he accused.There was a brief pause, followed by, "Is there anything I can get you, like groceries or books or something? I could leave the stuff in the hallway outside your door—""Or you could just drop it from a hovering helicopter," Nick ventured, insulted.Gina gave a long-suffering sigh. "Why don't you call one of your girlfriends? You could have a whole harem over there, fluffing your pillows and giving you aspirin and heating up canned chicken soup.""My 'girlfriends,' as you put it, are all either working or letting their answering machines do the talking. And chicken soup is only therapeutic if it's homemade." Nick paused to emit another volcanic sneeze. When he'd recovered, he said magnanimously, "Don't worry about me, Gina, just because I'm putting you through college and paying for your car, your clothes, your apartment and every bite of food that goes into your mouth. I'll be fine without…any help at all.""Oh, God," wailed Gina. "The guilt!"Nick laughed. "Gotcha," he said, groping for the remote control that would turn on the TV. Maybe there was an old Stallone movie on—something bloody and macho.Gina said a few soothing words and then hung up. It occurred to Nick that she was really going to stay away, really going to leave her own brother to face The Great Galactic Plague alone and unassisted.There was, Nick decided, no human kindness left in the world. He flipped through the various movie channels, seeing nothing that caught his fancy, and was just about to shut the set off and try to focus his eyes on a book when he saw her for the first time.She was a redhead with golden eyes, and the sight of her practically stopped his heartbeat. She was holding an urn that was suitable enough to be someone's final resting place, and there was a toll-free number superimposed over her chest.With quick, prodding motions of his thumb, Nick used the control button on the remote to turn up the volume. "My name is Vanessa Lawrence," the vision told her viewing audience in a voice more soothing than all the chicken soup and mentholated rub in the world, "and you're watching the Midas Network." She went on to extol the virtues of the hideous vase she was peddling, but Nick didn't hear a word.He was too busy dredging up everything he knew about the Midas Network, a nationwide shopping channel based in Seattle. One of his friends—an executive with the company—had urged him to invest when the economy had gone south, claiming that the new home-shopping network would be a hit with newly spendthrift consumers.Nick shoved one hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end in ridges that reeked of eucalyptus. Undoubtedly, he thought, he was experiencing some kind of dementia related to the virus that had been visited upon him.Without taking his eyes away from the screen, he groped for the telephone and punched out the office number. His executive assistant, a middle-aged woman named Harriet, answered with a crisp, "DeAngelo's. May I help you?""I hope so," wheezed Nick, who had just finished another bout of coughing."You don't need me, you need the paramedics," remarked the assistant."At last," Nick said. "Someone who understands and sympathizes. Harriet, find Paul Harmon's number for me, will you please? I'm in no condition to hunt through the contacts on my phone."It was easy to picture Harriet, plump and efficient, searching expertly for the number. "His office number is 555-9876," she said.Nick found a pencil in the paraphernalia that had collected on the end table beside the couch and wrote the digits on the corner of the tissue box, along with the home number Harriet gave him next.The woman on the screen was now offering a set of bird figurines."Oh, lady," Nick said aloud as he waited for Paul Harmon to come on the line, "I want your body, I want your soul, I want you to have my baby."The goddess smiled. "All this can be yours for only nineteen-ninety-five," she said."Sold," replied Nick.Vanessa Lawrence inserted her cash card into the automatic teller machine in Quickee Food Mart and tapped one foot while she waited for the money to appear. A glance at her watch told her she was due at her lawyer's office in just ten minutes, and the drive downtown would take fifteen.Her foot moved faster.The machine made an alarming grinding noise, but no currency came out of the little slot, and Vanessa's card was still somewhere in the bowels of the gizmo. From the sound of things, it was being systematically digested.Somewhat wildly, she began pushing buttons. The words Your transaction is now completed, were frozen on the small screen. She glanced back over one shoulder, hoping for help from the clerk, but everyone in the neighborhood seemed to be in the convenience store that afternoon, buying bread and milk."Damn!" she breathed, slamming her fist against the face of the machine.A woman wearing pink foam rollers in her hair appeared at Vanessa's side. "You're on TV, aren't you?" she asked. "On that new shopping channel, the something-or-other station."Vanessa smiled, even though it was the last thing she felt like doing. "The Midas Network," she said, before giving the machine another despairing look. "Just give me back my card," she told the apparatus, "and I won't make any trouble, I promise.""I watch you every day," the woman announced proudly. "I bought that three-slice toaster you had on yesterday—there's just Bernie and Ray and me, now that Clyde's gone away to the army—and my sister-in-law has four of the ceiling fans."In her head, Vanessa heard the production manager, Paul Harmon, giving his standard public-relations lecture. As the viewing audience expands, you'll be recognized. No matter what, I want you all to be polite at all times."Good," she said with a faltering smile.She took another look at her watch, then lost her cool and rammed the cash machine with the palms of her hands. Miraculously two twenty-dollar bills popped out of the appropriate slot, but Vanessa's cash card was disgorged in three pieces.She dropped both the card and the money into the pocket of her blazer and dashed for the car, hoping the traffic wouldn't be bad.It was.Worse, when Vanessa reached her attorney's modest office, Parker was there with his lawyer and his current girlfriend.Vanessa prayed she didn't look as frazzled as she felt and resisted an urge to smooth her chin-length auburn hair.Parker smiled his dazzling smile and tried to kiss her cheek, but Vanessa stepped back, her golden eyes clearly telling him to keep his distance.Her ex-husband, now the most sought-after pitcher in the American League, looked hurt. "Hello, Van," he said in a low and intimate voice.Vanessa didn't speak. Although they had been divorced for a full year, Parker's presence still made her soul ache. It wasn't that she wanted him back; no, she grieved for the time and love she'd wasted on him.Vanessa's attorney, Walter, was no ball of fire, but he was astute enough to know how vulnerable she felt. He drew back a chair for her near his desk, and gratefully she sank into the seat.Parker's lawyer immediately took up the conversational ball. "I think we can settle this reasonably," he said. Vanessa felt her spine stiffen.The bottom line was that Parker had been offered a phenomenal ...