Dead Calm. Lindsay Longford

>

      Judah could short out all her circuits. Turn her into a gibbering mass of wanting.

      Sophie had learned that. And she loved every minute of scorching to a crisp.

      But not now.

      The tip of his finger brushed the edge of her shirt.

      “Why are you always touching me, Judah?”

      He smiled. “I like touching you, Sophie. That’s why. Just…because.” His gaze held hers.

      She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t, not faced with the sadness in his eyes. She didn’t have it in her to move away at the moment from the lost, damned look in Judah Finnegan’s eyes. It was that glimpse into the dark corners of his soul that got her. Every blasted time.

      Dear Reader,

      Welcome to another fabulous month of the most exciting romance reading around. And what better way to begin than with a new TALL, DARK & DANGEROUS novel from New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Brockmann? Night Watch has it all: an irresistible U.S. Navy SEAL hero, intrigue and danger, and—of course—passionate romance. Grab this one fast, because it’s going to fly off the shelves.

      Don’t stop at just one, however. Not when you’ve got choices like Fathers and Other Strangers, reader favorite Karen Templeton’s newest of THE MEN OF MAYES COUNTY. Or how about Dead Calm, the long-awaited new novel from multiple-award-winner Lindsay Longford? Not enough good news for you? Then check out new star Brenda Harlen’s Some Kind of Hero, or Night Talk, from the always-popular Rebecca Daniels. Finally, try Trust No One, the debut novel from our newest find, Barbara Phinney.

      And, of course, we’ll be back next month with more pulse-pounding romances, so be sure to join us then. Meanwhile…enjoy!

      Leslie J. Wainger

       Executive Editor

      Dead Calm

      Lindsay Longford

      LINDSAY LONGFORD,

      like most writers, is a reader. She even reads toothpaste labels in desperation! A former high school English teacher with an M.A. in literature, she began writing romances because she wanted to create stories that touched readers’ emotions by transporting them to a world where good things happen to good people and happily-ever-after is possible with a little work.

      Her first book, Jake’s Child, was nominated for Best New Series Author, Best Silhouette Romance and received a Special Achievement Award for Best First Series Book from Romantic Times magazine. It was also a finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA^® Award for Best First Book. Her Silhouette Romance Annie and the Wise Men won the RITA^® for best Traditional Romance of 1993.

      Sometimes life throws you totally off balance. If you’re lucky, you find angels along the way. I did. My very own funky, funny, fantastic angels, Cathie Linz, Susan Elizabeth Phillips and Suzette Vandewiele, kept me flying through the storms. They saved me with their laughter, their support and their concern. How did I ever get so lucky?

      I want to thank some special people at Silhouette, too: Karen Taylor Richman, Leslie Wainger and Tara Gavin. I don’t know why you didn’t throw me overboard. But I am blessed by knowing you.

      Without all of you, the baby would have remained abandoned in the manger.

      To My Readers

      This is a book about hate, love and redemption. We live in a world that has too much of the first and too little of the second. But I still believe in the possibility of redemption, and so, with hope and faith, I write of love triumphing over hate. It’s my small attempt to shine a light into the darkness of fear.

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      So many people were generous with their time and their knowledge on this book. As usual, I dived headfirst into subjects of which I was ignorant. These generous people helped me along the way. I am indebted to them. From the Greatest Class Ever of Manatee High School, Bradenton, Florida: Bruce Malcolm, CEO, Trilithic; Jeannette Floyd, funny lady extraordinaire, and Kerstin Knos, for help on Florida adoptions; Kaye Sneary Wood, for her research on Vietnamese customs; and Jim Vandelly, whom I will always remember for his performance in You Can’t Take It with You. Others who gave incredible help were Xuyen Ich Hinh, for his extensive help with Vietnam questions and language; Beth Schemenauer, aka Big Beth, the surfing queen; Bill Ritis, ever ready with anecdotes of a Russian childhood; Jacalyn Schauer, for her constant attempts to keep me supplied with pens and make sure I wasn’t by myself on holidays; and her cousin, Dr. William Gossman, Asst. Professor of Emergency Medicine at Chicago Medical School; Margaret Watson for the “felony flirting” line; and Josh Polak. The helped me take an idea and give it reality. All errors are, alas, mine.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 1

      The biggest shopping day of the year was a killer, all right.

      Sophie sidestepped a trail of plastic syringe tips.

      Torn plastic wraps from hastily opened four-by-four gauze pads drifted in her wake. One step away from a full trot, she jammed her hands into the pockets of her medical jacket and grimaced at a blood trail dotting the black-and-white tiled floor. Third time that night.

      Overstuffed with turkey both fowl and Wild, two good ol’ boys had duked it out in the Emergency Room hall earlier. Then they’d thrown up on her socks. “Damned shame waste of good likker,” one had said morosely. Boozily consoling each other, they’d left in the firm grip of one of Poinciana, Florida’s knights in blue.

      Following the blood trail, Sophie automatically checked out the ER. All five treatment rooms were filled, the waiting room out front was packed to the corners with sniffling, bleeding people, and they all wanted her attention.

      Now.

      Five minutes ago.

      Behind her, a bucket clanked against the floor and water slopped against her, trickled inside her lace-trimmed green socks. She swore under her breath and stopped, the bells on her shoelaces jingling.

      “Sorry, Doc. Damned thing slipped.” Billy Ray Watley’s stringy ponytail swung with his quick grab for the cart. A yellow Caution—Wet Floor sign smacked against the wall. On the other side, the sign warned, Cuidado—Piso Mijado. He shot her a worried grin.

      “No problem, Billy Ray. Don’t sweat it.”

      “Your Christmas socks are ruined.” He jiggled the cart, his ponytail a pendulum to his jitters.

      “Not really.” Even with soapy water squishing between her toes, she smiled. An effort after fourteen hours on duty, but Billy Ray was one of their own.

      She reached down and plucked at one soggy sock. The bells clinked flatly. At six this