Sometimes love really is worth fighting
for, but picking your battles isn't so easy—especially when lives are
at stake.
Personal tragedy and the loss of both parents at
a young age made Ariela Perrine cross self-sacrificing hero types off her
datable list. But Ariela is literally swept off her feet when an accident
brings her face to face with an unforgettable pair of blue eyes, a
playful smile, and an overly affectionate dog.
Oh yes, journalist Dylan Bond makes
her sizzle, but dare she risk it? After all, he's just returned
from covering conflicts around the globe. With his assurance he'll be handling
domestic stories from now on, Ariela's weak resistance crumbles and their
relationship intensifies at a dizzying speed. Then an unexpected phone
call lures Dylan back to Iraq and he falls off the radar. His
disappearance will test them both in ways neither expected. Will it bring them
closer or destroy their fragile peace forever?
EXCERPT
“Please,
come in.” Ariela grabbed her sweater off the hook on the wall and slipped it
on, feeling a little underdressed in her pajamas.
What on earth was he doing here, and how had he found her? Not that she was
complaining. Oh no, far from it. He’d made a startling impression on her
earlier today. When he’d smiled at her, she could have sworn his brilliant blue
eyes were dancing like fairies at a midsummer frolic. Odder still, when he
spoke she’d imagined butterflies circling her head. She’d heard tinkling bells.
At the time, she hoped it was because of the knock on her head. Now she wasn’t
so sure. Just looking at him again was doing crazy things to her mental and
physical circuitry.
The guy entered the apartment and gaped at the
furniture right out of the sixties. Very familiar with this reaction, Ariela
laughed.
“Yeah, I get it. The Jetsons meet Beetlejuice,
right? Probably not the décor you’d expect two interior designers to have.”
He shook his head, still blinking as he took it
all in.
Overlapping the edges of her unbuttoned sweater,
she hugged herself, painfully aware she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Well, there’s a
simple explanation. When you’re cash poor and starting a business with next to
nothing, you can’t exactly go wild in your own apartment right off the bat.
We’re still living with the furniture we had during college, courtesy of Uncle
Henry and Aunt Rose—with a few freebies thrown in to make it really eclectic.”
She gestured to their space-age teal sofa.
“Please, have a seat. Appearances aside, it’s actually quite comfortable. Can I
get you something to drink—juice, tea, coffee maybe?”
Anything, anything at all?
Turning, he flashed a little dimple. “No thanks.
I’m fine.”
He’d get no argument from her.
They sat down and he looked pained when she
settled into the bright tangerine-colored armchair. Understandable. It did clash
jarringly with her pajamas—pastel balloons floating across a soft pink background.
The poor guy blinked several times, seemingly trying to handle the color
overload. Biting her lip so she didn’t break out laughing, Ariela tucked her
feet up and gave him a slow, curious smile.
He sat up straight, recognizing his cue. “Right.
Sorry. I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”
“It crossed my mind,” she admitted.
“I didn’t get a chance to give you that business
card before they carted you away.”
“Oh, and you brought it to me? That’s so nice of
you. Thanks.”
He peered at her intently, more serious now.
“How are you?”
Even though she didn’t know him, there was
something in his expression that made her believe he could be trusted, and more
importantly, he wouldn’t have asked about her if he didn’t honestly want to
know. The naked concern radiating out of his deep blue eyes transformed his handsome
face into something miles beyond devastating.
“I have a mild concussion.” Why was she blushing?
The corner of his mouth curled up a smidgen.
“Headache?”
She felt her warm cheeks flare hotter. What was
wrong with her? “Not anymore.”
“Good.” He broke into a full-blown smile and
settled back on the sofa, apparently satisfied.
Still reeling from the power of his smile,
Ariela shifted uneasily in her chair. “I have a confession— I can’t remember
your name. It’s really bugging me.”
His head dropped back and he laughed. “Dylan
Bond.”
She brightened. “Like in Bond, Dylan Bond?”
She’d remember it now.
His eyebrows flicked up in amusement. “Something
like that.”
“Dabbles in international intrigue?” She was
toying with him, but it was fun.
He flashed a sexy-assed smile. How many kinds
did the guy have? “I’m comfortable being in the middle of the action, but I’m
back to working domestically again.”
Say
what? Ariela’s eyebrows rose so high she felt her hairline shift.
“I think I need a translation. What is it you do?”
He had a great laugh. “I’m a journalist. I just
finished a stint in Iraq, but I’m back now. It’s nice not having to deal with
body armor and helmets.”
Looking skeptically back at him, she assumed he
was putting her on. “Is that right?”
“Actually, yes.” He shifted onto one butt cheek
and pulled out his wallet. A second later, he handed her a press pass from a
recent event. “I’m working out of my house now—mostly covering the political
side of the war.”
She read the pass, her doubts dissolving. “You
actually live around here?” She handed the card back and he put it away.
“Sure, why not?”
Shrugging, she said, “Well, Lewiston isn't
exactly Washington DC.”
“With the internet and a telephone, you can stay
connected from pretty much anywhere. Still, I do plenty of traveling and
Washington is only a two hour drive. I can be there and back before Max even
notices I'm gone.”
“Max?”
His blue eyes were dancing again. Hello tinkling
bells. “My retriever.”
“Ah yes, I remember him now.”
Dylan grinned. “He’s probably the reason you
woke up wanting a wet wipe.”
She laughed and his smile deepened. That dimple
of his was growing on her.
“Listen,” he said, leaning forward, elbows on
his knees. “How about going out with me sometime? We can do something gentle—bumper
cars maybe?”
She waited for her retreat mechanism to kick in.
It was strangely silent. “Here I was, hoping you’d suggest hang gliding or
bungee jumping.”
“Anything you want. I’m flexible.”
Another perfect smile flashed at her and
Ariela’s heartbeat spiked. “Sure, why not?”
“Good.” He stood and pulled the business card
out of his front pocket. “Here, before I forget.”
Ariela unfolded her legs and reached for the
floor with her bare feet. When she rose he was right there with the card.
Taking it, she noticed he was taller than she’d initially thought. She supposed
that made sense. How well can you judge anyone’s height when you’re on your
back?
She walked him to the door. Opening it before
she could, he turned and asked, “When?”
“When what?” She watched his eyes move as he
took an unabashed tour of her face.
“When can I take you out?”
The birds in her stomach were back, fluttering
away. Good thing they were keeping the noise down. “Whenever?”
Dylan gave her a meaningful look, full of
promise. “Expect a call.”
Ariela closed the door behind him and fell
against it. If she hadn’t locked her knees, she would have been a puddle of melting
woman on the floor. As Dylan’s footfalls faded out and the back door shut, she
pressed a hand to her excited heart. Something told Ariela that she was in for
a wild ride with this one. Hell, just sitting in a quiet room with Dylan was
exhilarating. Now she knew it wasn’t just the concussion. There was far more at
play here. Scary.
She was about to find out whether Dylan’s hands
were capable and steady on the wheel, because he was already in her driver’s
seat. She knew it, and judging by the look he gave her on the way out, he knew
it too. Suddenly the Beatles were singing Drive
My Car in her head.
About the Author
I’m a pampered wife, mother to three fantastic sons, one super
daughter-in-law, and proud nana.
I write the stories I
like to read. Life is difficult. Love makes it bearable.
Please visit my website Tara Mills Romance for more
great reads and my quirky blog. I’m also on Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter.
