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“I quit.”

Amy winced, feeling suddenly emotional. She loved this job. She’d even come pretty close to loving her boss a time or two. But if she was going to have any sort of life at all, she was going to have to leave this all behind. “I—I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to work here anymore.”

Carter gave her a long-suffering look. “What do you want, Pendleton? A raise? A new title? More responsibility?”

“I want…” She hesitated. She’d never really told him this before, though she’d hinted at it often enough lately. “I want a home. I want a husband. I want babies, and a cat, and long mornings in bed and walks on the beach.”

“What?”

Dear Reader,

Summer’s finally here! Whether you’ll be lounging poolside, at the beach, or simply in your home this season, we have great reads packed with everything you enjoy from Silhouette Romance—tenderness, emotion, fun and, of course, heart-pounding romance—plus some very special surprises.

First, don’t miss the exciting conclusion to the thrilling ROYALLY WED: THE MISSING HEIR miniseries with Cathie Linz’s A Prince at Last! Then be swept off your feet—just like the heroine herself!—in Hayley Gardner’s Kidnapping His Bride.

Romance favorite Raye Morgan is back with A Little Moonlighting, about a tycoon set way off track by his beguiling associate who wants a family to call her own. And in Debrah Morris’s That Maddening Man, can a traffic-stopping smile convince a career woman—and single mom—to slow down…?

Then laugh, cry and fall in love all over again with two incredibly tender love stories. Vivienne Wallington’s Kindergarten Cupids is a very different, highly emotional story about scandal, survival and second chances. Then dive right into Jackie Braun’s True Love, Inc., about a professional matchmaker who’s challenged to find her very sexy, very cynical client his perfect woman. Can she convince him that she already has?

Here’s to a wonderful, relaxing summer filled with happiness and romance. See you next month with more fun-in-the-sun selections.

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

A Little Moonlighting
Raye Morgan

This one is for Val Payne,

good friend and fellow water polo mom

RAYE MORGAN

has spent almost two decades, while writing over fifty novels, searching for the answer to that elusive question: Just what is that special magic that happens when a man and a woman fall in love? Every time she thinks she has the answer, a new wrinkle pops up, necessitating another book! Meanwhile, after living in Holland, Guam, Japan and Washington, D.C., she currently makes her home in Southern California with her husband and two of her four boys.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter One

“Pack your bags, Pendleton. We’ll be dining in Paris tomorrow.”

Amy Pendleton looked up from her desk with a worried frown, her sleek blond head tilted to the side as she regarded her boss, Carter James, who seemed all too cheerful with his news.

“Paris, France?” she asked, a slight hint of desperation in her tone.

“Of course,” he replied, waving papers at her before he dropped them on her desktop. His clear blue eyes shone with anticipation. “Ah, the Seine, the Champs-Élysées, the streetside bistros…”

Her pretty face twisted as her brows pulled together. “Weren’t we just in Paris last month?” she asked, wondering why he never seemed to notice that her enthusiasm for these constant business trips had waned in recent months. “Or was that Amsterdam?”

“Both,” he said happily, dropping to sit on the corner of her desk, one leg swinging. “And don’t forget that great steak dinner we had in Madrid on that trip. Too bad the meeting in Copenhagen lasted so late into the night that we had to settle for herring sandwiches.”

“Herring sandwiches,” she echoed, her voice hollow, her eyes glazed over. Absently, she picked up a pencil and held it in her hands. “Another cross-Atlantic flight. Cardboard airplane food.” She snapped the pencil in two and let the pieces drop onto her desk as she stared into a grim future. “Hour-long waits at ticket counters.” She picked up another pencil and snapped it, too. “Wearing clothes so wrinkled they look as though you’d slept in them.” Snap went a third. “No sleep. Jet lag. No way to keep track of the days.”

A deep sigh shuddered through her. “I just want to spend three consecutive nights in my own bed,” she said wistfully.

“Remember that little café where we had that great Turkish coffee the last time we were in Paris?” Carter said, his eyes focused on a distant memory.

His handsome face was relaxed, content. The picture of the successful businessman, his wide shoulders filled out his impeccable Italian suit as though he’d been born to wear the style. His thick dark hair was combed back in a slight wave off his forehead, but perfectly controlled, as was most of his life. “We’ll go there for breakfast on our first morning…”

She stared at him. He wasn’t paying any attention. But that was hardly new. He never paid any attention to her! Another pencil bit the dust.

How had she ever been so crazy as to dream about someday marrying this man when, after two long years of working together, he barely knew she existed outside of her performance as his administrative associate? He went on, rhapsodizing about Paris in the spring, and she marveled at him. How could he be so absolutely adorable and at the same time, so darn self-involved?

Marry him? Ha. Now that would be the height of insanity. First she would have to get him to think about something other than business or food long enough to notice she was a woman. And that seemed to be asking a little too much.

Although, she’d tried. Oh, yes, she’d certainly tried. She’d done all the normal things—brought in home-baked brownies, laughed at his jokes, smiled a lot, sat around looking doe-eyed and feminine.

And when that didn’t seem to jolt a response in him, she’d tried a more direct approach. She’d asked for advice from friends and—much to her later chagrin—had taken it. The short skirts hadn’t done anything noticeable to stir his blood. But she’d pressed on, donning dresses that emphasized her attributes, wearing her hair loose and casually shaking it in his face when she bent close to look over plans he was explaining to her.

“Pendleton, you’re going to make me sneeze,” he’d said, grimacing. “Can’t you do something with that hair?”

She remembered well the incident when she’d tried out the new perfume her friend Julie had told her was a surefire attention-getter. She’d stood very close to Carter and wafted the scent around her in his general direction whenever she got the chance. And suddenly, it seemed to work. He was sniffing the air.

“What’s that smell?” he asked her, frowning.

But before she could answer, while she was still busy producing her most flirtatious smile, he decided he knew.

“Someone’s ordered in pizza,” he said decisively. “My God, I’m hungry as a bear. Hold down the fort, Pendleton. I’ll go get us something to eat.”

Being mistaken for a freshly baked pizza was something a girl just didn’t get over all that quickly. That had been the last straw. She’d pretty much given up now.

And here he was going on and on about Paris as though this trip was going to be something special. Well, not for her.

“I’m not going,” she announced when he paused for breath.

He looked at her as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “What are you talking about?” But before she could answer, he noticed the shattered remains littering her desk. “Pendleton, why are you destroying your pencils?”

She glared at him. “Because I am slowly going mad,” she told him grimly. “And that is why I am going to quit.”

She pulled open a desk drawer with a flourish and took out a sheet of paper that had her resignation printed on it. She’d been holding it there for weeks, waiting for the right moment. That moment seemed to have come.

“Here. Take it. I think it covers all the bases.” She winced, feeling suddenly emotional. She loved this job. She’d even come pretty close to loving her boss a time or two. But if she was going to have any sort of life at all, she was going to have to leave this all behind. “I—I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to work here anymore.”

He glanced at the paper, read a line or two, and gave her a long-suffering look. “Rubbish,” he said, and he dropped it into the trash can. “What do you want, Pendleton? A raise? A new title? More responsibility?”

He really didn’t listen. Suddenly she felt so tired.

“I don’t want any of those things. I want…” She hesitated. She’d never really told him this before, though she’d hinted at it often enough lately. But what good were hints to a man who never listened? Taking a deep breath, she launched into her new anthem of need.

“I want a home. I want a husband. I want babies, and a cat, and long mornings in bed and walks on the beach and…”

He laughed. Far from being offended, she stared at him in wonder. He didn’t often laugh right out loud, and when he did, the effect on her pulse rate was astounding. His brilliant white teeth gleamed against his tanned skin, his blue eyes sparkled against the thick, dark lashes, and his face softened for a moment. Laughing made him look so human, so approachable…so sexy. Her heart skipped a beat and a familiar longing rose in her chest, a longing she’d been beating back lately. But it just wouldn’t seem to die.

“Pendleton…” Reaching out, he took her chin in his hand and smiled into her eyes.

She smiled back, yearning for him, savoring his touch. That didn’t happen very often. He seemed to avoid it most of the time. But maybe he was waking up. Maybe he’d finally seen something in her to care for.

And his gaze did darken as he sobered. He looked more deeply into her eyes and for a moment, he seemed almost puzzled by what he saw there.

“Don’t you know that I can’t do without you?” he said softly.

Her heart was thumping in her chest. Had he finally noticed?

“You’re my other half,” he went on. “Without you I’m pretty good at this business. But together, we knock ’em dead.”

She sighed, shoulders sagging. Business again. She should have known. It was always business with Carter.

“You and I were made for this line of work,” he told her, dropping his hand from her chin but maintaining his hold on her gaze. “You know I’m right. You’re a born negotiator. I’ve seen your eyes light up when you see a chink in the opposition’s armor. I know how cool and silky you get when you know you’ve found a negotiating ploy that’s going to leave the other side gasping. I’ve seen your elation when we get a settlement that favors TriTerraCorp.” He grinned at her, very sure of himself.

He was right. They were very important to their company. TriTerraCorp was a large real-estate development firm with ongoing projects all over the world. The four-story, steel-and-tinted-glass headquarters here in the California central coast town of Rio de Oro was an imposing structure as was fitting for such a consequential corporation.

“And we always get a settlement that favors TriTerraCorp,” Carter was reminding her. “Because we’re the best.”

They were the best. He was right. She was good and he was better. He was so good, in fact, that he knew there was a good chance he could manipulate her. She knew it, too.

But she wasn’t going to give in that easily this time.

“I’m thirty-two years old, Carter,” she told him earnestly. “I’m edging into the zone of no return. If I don’t get started on finding someone to have a family with, I won’t ever have one.”

“Why do you have to quit your job in order to start a family?” he asked her, quite sensibly. “Lots of women keep working.”

“Your average job may allow for such things,” she said, shaking her head. “Being your sidekick is a little too nonstop for that. I barely have time to breathe. I don’t think I could fit in finding a mate and popping out a couple of babies while marking up contracts at the same time with my free hand.”

“Babies.” He shuddered. “Believe me, you don’t want to get mixed up with any of those. Messy, smelly, noisy things. A few all-nighters with a baby will sap all the fight right out of you.”

She turned her palms up. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. I can’t do both.”

Rising from the desk, Carter began to pace restlessly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. She was being more tenacious than usual. She might actually mean it this time. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t lose her. Somehow over the past two years, their work patterns had become so intertwined, he couldn’t imagine setting up a series of important negotiations without her.

He looked at her sideways. Why hadn’t he seen this coming? He made it a practice to keep his distance, even from Pendleton. He’d learned early in life that human relationships always ended badly. It didn’t pay to let your heart get involved, not if you wanted to avoid getting it broken. Life was so much safer when you cruised the surface instead of plunging down into the deep.

He’d made a promise to himself never to let anyone become so important that his happiness depended upon keeping them in his life. Bad things happened when you did that. And yet, here he was, on the verge of losing her, and scared it just might happen.

Oh, what the hell! He could go on without her. He could get another associate, train her just the way he’d trained Pendleton. It would work out fine. No one was indispensable.

And then he turned and looked at her, took in her porcelain-fine profile, her beautiful blond hair, her trim figure, the graceful curve of her neck, and something seemed to quiver deep inside him. He couldn’t lose her.

“Not so fast, Pendleton,” he said calmly. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through. There are things in the works that could change your mind.”

She shook her head. “There will always be something coming up that would tempt me to stay,” she admitted. “I love working here and you know it. But my full nature isn’t fulfilled with work. I need more.”

He nodded dismissively and his face took on a pensive look.

“I talked to the Joliet Aire people this morning,” he told her with exaggerated casualness. “And Monsieur Jobert has agreed to meet with you.”

Her head snapped up and she stared at him. “What?” Monsieur Jobert was an illusive contact she’d been going after for six months. She jumped up, facing Carter and beaming. “You’re kidding!”

He nodded, gratified by her delighted surprise. “It’s true. That is exactly what we’re going to Paris for. He finally read one of your letters and wants to meet the lady behind the persuasive words.”

“I knew I could get to him eventually,” she said, eyes shining with triumph, her hand tightened in a little fist. “Now, to make sure I’ve got the right ammunition to convince him once we meet face-to-face…” Her voice trailed off as she realized what she was saying.

He studied her closely, one eyebrow cocked. “One more trip to Paris, Pendleton,” he said softly. “Come on. You know you can’t pass this one up.”

She turned away, thinking hard. He’d won again. But still, an interview with the famous Monsieur Jobert!

Carter watched her, his eyes filled with worry now that she wasn’t gazing into his. The last thing in the world he could afford was to lose Amy Pendleton. Together they were a well-oiled machine. Their successes were legendary at TriTerraCorp.

Besides, there was a part of him, deep down, a tiny part he didn’t often allow to surface, that would miss her in other ways. No, he couldn’t do without her. His throat tightened as he thought of it. He’d already lost too much, dammit. This was someone he wasn’t going to let walk out of his life.

“All right,” she said, turning back to look at him with stormy eyes. “One more trip to Paris. But after that…”

“Après moi le déluge,” he said, grinning at her as he repeated the famous quote attributed to Louis XV. “‘After me the deluge!’”

She laughed softly, shaking her head, not sure what the quote had to do with anything, but enjoying it anyway—enjoying him.

And that was part of her problem. She just enjoyed him too darn much! And that spoiled the rest of the male population for her. Every man she met she compared to Carter, and every other man came up wanting when she made those comparisons.

“More like, ‘after Paris, the resignation’,” she corrected him, her eyes sparkling. “Don’t forget. I’m quitting.”

He didn’t answer but his confident smile told her he would be working on new ways to keep her from doing that. And he was very good at orchestrating outcomes the way he liked them.

“‘The more you try to get out, the more they pull you back in’,” Meg quoted in her best mobster accent.

Amy laughed at her sister’s impression of a gangster. She’d always been a natural actress, even when they were both growing up together in San Diego. Amy remembered the neighborhood productions they had put on, with Meg playing most of the parts and other children drafted off the street to play against her. Amy herself was usually the set designer, promoter, ticket-taker and prompter. While Meg loved being in front of an audience, Amy had always preferred the behind-the-scenes activities.

“That’s about the size of it,” she admitted. “But I’m going to quit right after we get back from this trip. Honest.”

“Good.” Meg smiled at her sister. Only two years older, she’d considered herself the head of the family, ever since their parents had died a few years before. “Because, you’ve got to admit,” she went on, “you’re not getting any younger, Amy.”

Meg filled a little bowl with homemade strawberry ice cream and placed it on the kitchen table in front of her sister, then went on to fill two more tiny bowls.

Amy bit her tongue, taking up the ice cream and grabbing a spoon to eat it with, but fuming inside. What a dumb thing that was to say. Of course she wasn’t getting any younger. Nobody was. Meg might as well advise her to breathe air.

Still, she held back her temper and didn’t let her sister see how much she resented that comment. After all, she knew Meg was just trying to help her. She was concerned, and she wanted Amy to find a man and have the happiness she’d found with her husband Tim and her three little children.

Amy loved her sister. Looking at her now, with her common-sense attitude and her shiny auburn hair cut in a short bob, she felt a surge of affection. She really felt as though she’d neglected Meg over the past few years. She was on the road so much, she barely had time to stop by for holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving before racing off again to go to cities all over the world. Sometimes she felt that she hardly knew Meg’s little ones, and she regretted that.

“Besides, if you quit, you’ll have more time to date.” Meg turned and gave her a bright smile that failed in its attempt to seem offhandedly casual. “Paul is always asking about you.”

Paul was Meg’s neighbor, a perfectly nice man Amy had met over dinner at her sister’s. But she had to hold back her reaction once again, because while Paul was pleasant and had a certain charm, he was no Carter James.

Still, whom was she kidding? Carter was exactly the man she couldn’t get. Maybe Paul was more her speed. That is, if she really wanted to settle down and have a family.

“Deedee!” Meg called as she set out the two little bowls. “Scamp! Ice cream!”

A sound very much like that of stampeding cattle came thundering through the house and two very small children exploded into the room. The boy was a towhead with hair like flax. The little girl had a mop of chocolate-colored curls. They stopped dead when they caught sight of Amy. Deedee, all of eighteen months or so, reached out and clung to her four-year-old brother’s arm while they both stared, wide-eyed.

“It’s your aunt Amy, sillies,” Meg exclaimed with a short laugh. “Come give her a kiss.”

There was just no way that was going to happen. Amy could see it in their eyes.

“Hi, Deedee,” she said cheerfully, though she heard the oddly uncomfortable note in her own voice. And if she heard it, she knew darn well they did. “How are you, Scamp?”

“Fine.”

Scamp, whose real name was William, answered her but didn’t look eager to make physical contact. He put his arm around his little sister’s shoulders as though to protect her, and they both sidled away from their aunt, trying to reach the table without having to come within arm’s reach of their unfamiliar relative. And they got away with it, since Meg didn’t notice. She had turned away and was chattering on about something she’d seen in the paper that morning.

Amy felt her smile harden like concrete around her mouth. The children hated her. And she had no idea how to charm them. Why wouldn’t they be wary? They grabbed their dishes of ice cream and made tracks out of the room, glancing back with half smiles, then ducking their heads and disappearing. Here she was dressed to the hilt, on her way to the airport to leave for Paris. They’d never seen her like this before, in heels and a power suit, with the obligatory silk power scarf, and her hair combed back severely into a twist held by a diamond-studded comb. She even had on her power makeup, which could almost be considered a mask. All necessary for striking tremulous awe in the hearts of negotiating adversaries, but hardly the thing to endear nieces and nephews.

There was that, and the fact that she hadn’t been around enough lately for them to be holding many fond memories. Why did she let herself get so caught up in business that she neglected her family? She wasn’t going to let that happen any longer. She was going to pick a time and come over every week. Right after she got back from Paris.

She groaned softly, realizing how that sounded like putting things off again. She’d done too much of that. Could she change?

She finished off the ice cream and sighed as she pushed the dish away. Well, there you had it. She was frightening to small children. Was this the future she wanted? It was down to the wire and it was her choice. She had to change.

“I’d better get going if I don’t want to miss the flight,” she said, rising and giving her pretty sister a kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” Meg said stoutly, gripping her by the shoulders and gazing intently into her eyes. “You’re committed. You’re going to quit when you get back from Paris.”

Amy nodded, frowning with mock ferocity, and they both laughed as she went out the door, waving. But the laugh faded quickly as she made her way to her car.

Life without Carter. Was it possible?

But she did want to have a normal life and a family, and if she was serious about that, it was time to attack her problem with the right sort of focus and attention.

Suppose she took some time off and tried to get this done. What would it take? At least six months to find someone suitable and congenial whom she might want to marry. Another six months to really get to know him—and convince him that he wanted to marry, as well. Another six months to set up the wedding. Then a few months before getting pregnant…

She gasped in horror as she turned into the airport parking lot. It would take almost three years, from the moment she began her project, to the point where she could possibly have a baby in her arms. She was going to be a hundred years old before she got there!

It all seemed so hopeless. And as she stood waiting for the shuttle to take her to the international terminal, it did occur to her that there might be an indication of the root of her problem in the fact that she even thought about things like this in a business-like manner—projecting time frames and plotting out an attack the way she would plot out a business move. She’d been too long in the business world, hadn’t she?

She saw Carter waiting for her by the ticket counter and her heart leaped up as it always did when she saw him. She loved the way he stood, so casually sure of himself, so sure the world was his oyster. If only he were the marrying kind. If only he would somehow magically, suddenly, fall in love with her. That would take care of everything.

She sighed, then started forward, walking quickly to join him.

“Darn you, Carter,” she was saying under her breath. “Why don’t you love me?”