THE TEXAS TATTLER

All the news that’s barely fit to print!

Fortune Heir Charged With Murder!

Red Rock is all abuzz with the news that Sheriff Wyatt Grayhawk has charged Jonas Goodfellow with the murder of their uncle, Ryan Fortune. It appears that this importer deliberately gave a poisoned bottle of port wine to the Fortune family’s patriarch at the recent bash to welcome the lost heirs.

But the burning question on everyone’s mind is—who’s that pretty young blonde who posted his bail money and has been by his side ever since?

That “pretty young blonde” is Jonas’s loyal assistant, Tara Summers. Ms. Summers flew from their global headquarters in San Francisco to open a satellite office in town, since Jonas can’t leave Red Rock until the charges are dropped. Our sources tell us the pair is sharing a suite at a local hotel, but from the looks they’ve been secretly exchanging, Jonas may have just leapt from the frying pan…into the fire!

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Silhouette Desire, where every month you’ll find six passionate, powerful and provocative romances.

October’s MAN OF THE MONTH is The Taming of Jackson Cade, part of bestselling author BJ James’ MEN OF BELLE TERRE miniseries, in which a tough horse breeder is gentled by a lovely veterinarian. The Texan’s Tiny Secret by Peggy Moreland tells the moving story of a woman in love with the governor of Texas and afraid her scandalous past will hurt him.

The exciting series 20 AMBER COURT continues with Katherine Garbera’s Some Kind of Incredible, in which a secretary teaches her lone-wolf boss to take a chance on love. In Her Boss’s Baby, Cathleen Galitz’s contribution to FORTUNES OF TEXAS: THE LOST HEIRS, a businessman falsely accused of a crime finds help from his faithful assistant and solace in her virginal embrace.

Jacob’s Proposal, the first book in Eileen Wilks’ dynamic new series, TALL, DARK & ELIGIBLE, features a marriage of convenience between a beauty and a devastatingly handsome financier known as the Iceman. And Maureen Child’s popular BACHELOR BATTALION marches on with Last Virgin in California, an opposites-attract romance between a tough, by-the-book marine drill instructor and a free-spirited heroine.

So celebrate the arrival of autumn by indulging yourself with all six of these not-to-be-missed love stories.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Her Boss’s Baby

Cathleen Galitz

CATHLEEN GALITZ,

a Wyoming native, teaches English to seventh to twelfth graders in a rural school that houses kindergartners and seniors in the same building. She lives in a small Wyoming town with her husband and two children. When she’s not busy writing, teaching or working with her Cub Scout den, she can most often be found hiking or snowmobiling in the Wind River Mountains.

Meet the Fortunes of Texas

Meet the Fortunes of Texas’s Lost Heirs—membership in this Texas family has its privileges and its price. As the family gathers to welcome its newest members, it discovers a murderer in its midst…and passionate new romances that only a true-bred Texas love can bring!

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Jonas Goodfellow: Falsely arrested for Ryan Fortune’s murder, this lost heir wants nothing more to do with that nest of vipers he’d foolishly hoped would accept him as kith and kin.

Tara Summers: From the day he gave this inexperienced high school graduate her first job, she’s been in love with her boss. But now that she’s pregnant with the boss’s baby, is Jonas about to promote her to…wife?

Ryan Fortune: Having faced his own mortality, the family patriarch now has some special gifts in mind for four people who saw him through his darkest hour….

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

One

Tara Summers smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in the fashionable pink power suit she had chosen expressly for the occasion. Aware that she was the focus of attention in the front office of the small jail-house, she couldn’t help fretting if her skirt wasn’t a tad too short. She had picked out this particular outfit hoping it would make her feel both professional and sexy. From the head-to-toe ogling she was receiving from the officers on duty, it appeared she had achieved at least one of the two desired effects.

If only Jonas thinks so, she agonized, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

The irony of the situation did not escape her. Five years ago the tables had been turned, and it had been Jonas Goodfellow who had arrived like a chivalrous knight of old to bail her and his kid stepsister out of jail. Only seventeen at the time, Tara had been mortified when she and Ellen had been incarcerated for a drinking violation following their high-school graduation. Still green around the gills, she had burst into tears at the first inclination that Jonas was about to administer a well-deserved tongue-lashing.

Between sobs she’d explained the reason for her unprecedented behavior. She desperately needed a job to support her ailing widowed father. At her age without a college degree or experience in anything other than part-time waitressing, life appeared hopeless.

Moved by her plight, Jonas wiped away her tears with his handkerchief and offered her a job on the spot. He was just starting up his own business and said he could use someone to mind the store and answer the phone when he was out of the country. Starting pay was more than Tara could have expected anywhere else. Not only would it help salvage her father’s dignity, the money would allow her to take a couple of college classes at night, as well.

“You’ll never regret it,” she promised him, gratefully pumping his hand like a well-oiled piston.

A pair of twinkling green eyes and a wicked smile pulled Tara back into the present. “Are you sure that a sweet young thing like yourself really wants to bail out an attempted murderer—considering the fact that you could be spending your time with an upright good-looking fellow such as myself?”

The police officer behind the desk threw out his chest to add to the appeal of his offer. He seemed nice, close to her own age and charming in a boyishly cute way. Just the sort of all-American guy her father was always after her to date. He often reminded her how much he wanted a couple more grandkids to bounce on his knee.

Tara took a deep breath before replying, “I’m positive. Now will you please take me to see Jonas?”

Regardless of how bad things looked, she wasn’t about to abandon Jonas now. This was her big chance to pay him back for his kindness and generosity. And to prove that she was no longer the girl he’d rescued so long ago.

Goosebumps raised along the length of her arms as Tara followed the officer through the office into the jail itself. She wasn’t sure whether to attribute them to the sudden drop in temperature or the chilling atmosphere of the dismal holding area. Tara squinted in the harsh light, looking past rows of steel bars.

Who is that unshaven man sitting on the edge of his cot, holding his head in his hands? Surely not clean-cut, always in control, take-charge-of-the-world Jonas Goodfellow.

Reminding herself that he couldn’t be expected to be at his charming best, Tara tried touching him gently with her smile.

Awakened from his melancholic stupor by the subtle scent of her perfume, Jonas raised his head. Blue eyes collided with brown, and a frisson of electrical energy melted the bars that separated them, creating the illusion that they were the only two people on earth.

Who is that angel in pink? Jonas wondered. Surely not that scared high-school graduate I hired to answer phones for me just a couple of short years ago.

Indeed not. This was a woman, mature in both mind and body. A woman who knew full well the effect she was having on every male in the joint. How amazing, it must seem to them, that a model could walk off of the pages of a glossy fashion magazine and into their collective fantasies.

Jonas groaned. It was hard enough defending a lady’s honor when one wasn’t behind bars. A low whistle emanating from the cell directly across the way confirmed his worst fears. Accompanying suggestions turned the lady in question the same lovely shade of pink as her suit. The stern reprimand that the young police cadet in charge issued was met by guffaws.

Never in all his life had Jonas wanted to bash in someone’s head as badly as he did at this very moment. Humiliation and indignation were powerful stimulants when mixed in a vial already overflowing with injustice. Seeing Tara’s smile wobble, he growled at his fellow prisoner, “It’s a good thing you’re penned up way over there. Otherwise I’d wager you’d have trouble trying to whistle without any teeth.”

In response, the other man flung a filthy string of expletives in his direction. He also took a step away from the bars to make sure he was out of reach when the officer unlocked Jonas’s cell.

Jonas regretted Tara’s seeing him like this. Had he anyone else in the world to call upon, he would have spared his lovely young secretary the trip from San Francisco to the boondocks of Texas. Unfortunately Jonas had no family left except his stepfather and stepsister, Ellen, who was expecting a baby anytime now. Considering her delicate condition, he didn’t want to put any extra strain on her. And Jonas would have preferred death in the electric chair than to ask his stepfather for a favor. Not that asking would have made any difference. Nicolas Goodfellow would refuse to help. Just as surely as he had refused to have anything to do with raising Jonas or caring for his needy young wife, who had meekly submitted to his emotional abuse right up until the day she died.

“Thanks for coming,” Jonas said to Tara as the door to his cell swung open. “You’re certainly a sight for sore eyes.”

Though he resisted the urge to give her an appreciative hug in front of their watchful audience, she was not given to such reserve. Wrapping her arms around him, she brushed a kiss across his stubbled cheek, causing yet another crude comment to bubble up from the gutter of another captive’s mind.

For all the times Jonas had imagined holding this woman in his arms, he couldn’t believe how good she felt. Way too good. For the hundredth time, he had to remind himself that theirs was an employee/employer relationship. Friendly and respectful. Anything more would be taking advantage of Tara’s sweet nature and naiveté.

“Let’s get you out of here,” she whispered in his ear.

The sensation of her breath on his neck caused Jonas’s skin to tingle. What was that scent she was wearing? A heady mixture of flowers and musk, it was an importer’s dream. Jonas was certain he could sell gallons of the stuff.

After almost three days of confinement, he was eager to leave the premises. Happy to let Tara lead the way, he couldn’t help but notice the way the young officer’s gaze lingered on the hypnotic swaying of her hips. Jonas’s chest tightened uncomfortably. He tried brushing the feeling off as the onset of bronchial pneumonia that he’d likely contracted from one of the thugs with whom he’d been forced to share quarters for the past fifty-six hours and twenty-two minutes.

Not that he was counting.

Jonas said a little prayer of thanksgiving as he entered the light of freedom. Relative freedom, he amended, cursing the fact that for the time being the bail money Tara had procured from the business liberated him only from his cell. Unless the charges against him were dropped, Jonas would be required to remain in the tightly knit community of Red Rock until the time of his trial. As far as he could tell, the small town existed for the sole purpose of servicing the Fortune family—that nest of vipers that he had so foolishly hoped would welcome him as kith and kin.

He was charged with the attempted murder of one of the town’s most prominent citizens. The fact that, as far as Jonas could tell, everyone in Red Rock, from the local pharmacist to the sheriff, was related only made matters that much worse. He figured he’d been lucky not to have been lynched while he awaited bail. He’d be even luckier to get out of town in one piece. One thing was for certain. Good old Sheriff Grayhawk wasn’t about to risk upsetting his pretty little wife by letting anyone off the hook who was even circumstantially implicated in harming her favorite uncle.

To the lawman’s credit, however, Grayhawk hadn’t gone out of his way to persecute him. Fortunately it appeared the sheriff was more into justice than punishment. Still, given the hostile stares leveled at him by both employees and visitors as he left the county building, Jonas was certain he would be under careful surveillance as long as he remained in Grayhawk’s jurisdiction.

Stepping outside into the bright light of a Texas summer day, he realized just how much he had taken such a simple pleasure for granted: the warmth of the sun and of Tara’s smile. The way the light caught in her blond hair, which tumbled about her shoulders in an aura of golden diffusion, almost made him question for a moment whether she was wearing a halo. A telltale shiver told Jonas just how relieved this angel was to be well out of such an awful place.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate you coming to bail me out,” he began stiffly.

Knowing how Jonas hated being indebted to anyone, Tara would have none of it. “You’d do the same for me,” she assured him with a blinding smile. “In fact, I believe you already have.”

“It’s hardly the same,” he retorted bitterly.

“Of course it is,” she insisted. “It’s my turn to take care of you now.”

Though Jonas looked genuinely insulted by the thought, Tara felt certain his masculine pride would ultimately take a back seat to his gratitude. At least she hoped so as she directed him toward the car she had rented for the length of their stay in Red Rock.

Feminine instinct compelled her to toss him the keys. Having worked so closely with this man for the past five years, she had absolutely no fear that he would do anything as foolish as attempt to bolt from town. She smiled at him as he opened her car door. Even under the most dire of circumstances, she could always count on Jonas to be a gentleman. It was one of the things she found most endearing about him.

Tara filled him in on the arrangements she had made as they drove to the hotel where they would be staying until this whole mess was cleared up. As always, Jonas was impressed with his assistant’s efficiency. He may have initially taken her under his wing out of pity, but the truth of the matter was that hiring Tara Summers was the smartest business move he’d ever made. Again he forced himself to remember just how foolish it would be to jeopardize such a remarkable working relationship by doing anything as stupid as pulling over to the side of the road and kissing her senseless. After all, someone as moral and inexperienced as Tara might mistake such purely masculine impulsiveness as being something far more than it actually was: lust and appreciation wrapped up in one hormonally charged package.

“It’s far from perfect, but it’s the best I could do on such short notice,” she said, needlessly apologizing for the arrangements she’d made to procure for him the only official suite in the small town. “I’ve had all the necessary equipment to run the business long distance shipped here. Everything should be here by tomorrow.”

A blush crept up her neckline as she explained in a rush how two separate bedrooms adjoined a relatively spacious central living area that would have to serve as their temporary office “until this little matter gets cleared up.”

“Always the master of understatement,” Jonas quipped, pulling up in front of the hotel.

As grateful as he was that Tara had taken all necessary precautions to keep his mind off the gravity of his situation, it bothered Jonas that she seemed so unsettled by the thought of sharing close quarters with him. Didn’t she trust him enough to keep his hands to himself?

Switching off the ignition, he leaned across the seat. Tipping up her chin to force her to make eye contact with him, he asked her point-blank, “What are you afraid of, little one? Haven’t I always been a perfect gentleman around you?”

That’s the problem! she longed to tell him, melting at the endearment designed to remind her of the difference in their ages. What I’m really afraid of is that you have absolutely no interest in me as a woman. A woman who wants to be more to you than just a loyal employee.

But there was no way she could tell him that, not when she was in the process of falling headlong into a pair of eyes so blue that she was certain it would be impossible to hide any falsehood there. Surely if he was guilty of any wrongdoing, she would be able to discern it just by looking into those eyes. At the mere touch of his thumb beneath her chin, Tara felt the familiar jolt of electricity that tugged at her insides and made mush of rational thought every time he came in physical contact with her.

Don’t you feel it, too? she wanted to ask.

Remembering some of the late nights they had spent working overtime when she had caught him looking at her as more than a mere employee, Tara was certain he must. Ever the gentleman, however, he had never acted on the predatory desire she had seen in those electric blue eyes. And he never would, she feared, unless she gave him some blatant encouragement. A pretty new dress and expensive perfume were too subtle by themselves.

Brazenly she traced the outline of his jaw with her index finger. If anything, she thought that two-day stubble and haunted look in his eyes only made him more outrageously masculine than ever. Indeed, such a rebel could capture any woman’s heart with a single glance.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you’re the one who has something to fear?” Tara asked in a squeaky voice she barely recognized as her own.

The deep bass tones of Jonas’s laughter filled the car. Clearly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking, he seized Tara’s hand to try to stop her from making an even bigger fool of herself. Putting her hand demurely back into her own lap, he threw in one of his patented winks in hopes of keeping the mood light.

“Just in case you’re tempted to play with fire, I promise to keep my door locked. I’m already in enough trouble without being accused of robbing the cradle, too.”

Two

Seething at the flippancy of Jonas’s comment, Tara held her head high as they checked into the hotel. The twelve years separating them were hardly enough to put her thirty-four-year-old boss over the hill. It wasn’t as if he was old enough to be her father or that anyone could mistake her for a teenager. Tara’s feminine pride was assuaged somewhat by the elderly desk clerk’s arched eyebrow at two unmarried people signing in for a single suite. Obviously he didn’t think she was too young for Jonas.

“I’ll remind you that we’re a respectable establishment,” the older man said sanctimoniously as he passed them a set of keys.

Jonas glared at him but declined to explain the situation. The old duffer would probably have a conniption fit when he realized an accused murderer was staying under his inviolable roof, he thought as he opened the door to the suite.

The hotel was the best Red Rock had to offer. Decorated in muted mauve and turquoise Southwestern designs, the suite had an air of fading elegance. The living room was spacious enough to make-do as a temporary office, though Jonas suspected it would get crowded once all the equipment and paperwork arrived. Over Tara’s objections, he insisted she take the roomier master bedroom, which had a view of a picturesque city park. As long as his room had a bed and a telephone, Jonas was set. After spending the past couple of nights sleeping on a cot under a scratchy blanket, he assured her this was near heaven.

“I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of bringing along some of your personal items,” Tara said, producing the shaving kit he kept at the office as a spare.

Jonas could have kissed her. The idea flitted through his mind like a golden butterfly canvasing a field of flowers. Instantly he squashed the impulse.

Running his hand over the stubble on his chin, he told Tara how much he appreciated her thoughtfulness. “You know how I hate feeling scruffy.”

All Tara knew was that she wouldn’t mind getting a whisker rub from this blue-eyed demon. As she set about unpacking her own things, she took decided comfort in the buzz of the electric razor starting up in the bathroom. It was the kind of everyday soothing sound to which she could definitely grow accustomed. Absently she wondered if married couples truly appreciated such simple joys of cohabitation.

When Tara heard the shower being turned on, she marveled at how the thought of such an ordinary hygienic act could bring sweat to her brow. All she could think of was the close proximity of Jonas, naked. The water caressing his six-foot-three body, his glistening muscles, and…

Ten minutes later he emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a thick towel wrapped around his middle. With his dark hair shimmering with water, he looked every bit a Roman gladiator. It was all Tara could do to refrain from asking if he would like help wiping that spot on his broad shoulders that he had missed.

“You look like a nude man,” she said with a smile, then realizing the embarrassing Freudian slip, tripped all over her tongue trying to correct herself. “A new man! I meant to say you look like a new man.”

The sound of Jonas’s laughter washed over her. He did have a wonderful way of putting her at ease in the most difficult of moments.

“Listen,” he said with a lopsided smile, “I know how awkward this has to be for you. I’ll promise to try to stay out of your way if you’ll do the same for me. I apologize for my state of undress, too, but I’m actually thinking of burning the clothes I was wearing. I don’t want anything around to remind me of the time I spent in that jail cell. Being the superefficient assistant that you are, I was hoping you might have brought me a couple of clean things to wear…”

Once again on firmer ground, Tara hastened to make him forget her earlier blunder. “I already put clean clothes on your bed. I didn’t bring much along because I figured it would be just as easy to buy a few things while we’re here. You know I’ve been wanting to update your wardrobe for quite some time now.”

Jonas inserted an injured tone to his voice. “Just be forewarned I’m not about to get a nose ring to go along with any trendy clothes you pick out to bring me into the new millennium.”

It was the kind of warm funny banter that Tara liked to think might someday be a part of their marriage. As much as Jonas would like to dismiss her as nothing more than an employee, she couldn’t keep waiting for him to notice she’d grown up. She was, after all, far too bright and ambitious to remain at a dead-end job forever. Certain that this was the perfect opportunity for her to prove what a wonderful wife she would make him, Tara had every intention of maximizing their time together.

“Remind me to give you a raise,” Jonas said, padding off in the direction of his bedroom. “You take awfully good care of me.”

“I’d sure like to,” she replied softly to a backside that made her suck in her breath with longing.

Seeing the damp imprints of his feet across the plush carpet, she wondered if marriages really did break up over such inconsequential things as a husband failing to dry his feet or replace the roll of toilet paper or squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom. Tara had read articles about such things, but found the idea preposterous. She sighed deeply. Only time would tell whether close proximity would indeed bring her closer to the man she wanted—or if it would drive them apart.

Tara knew that some women would be offended by Jonas’s expectations of her as an employee. She understood that it was her duty as a modern woman to rage against any request to make coffee or pick up dry cleaning or, say, pack up the office and move it to Dust Blown, Texas. But she just couldn’t muster up much indignation. Love had a way of making the most mundane chores a joy.

Aside from the fact that she enjoyed being near Jonas, Tara knew she was well compensated, financially, for what she did. And with a little luck she had every intention of moving up in his affections.

She also knew that self-reliant Jonas was likely to do everything in his power to keep her at arm’s length. It clearly amused him how she blushed or trembled whenever he came too close. A less-determined woman might have given up on having anything more than a platonic relationship with him. Not Tara Summers. Having supported both herself and her father ever since she was seventeen, she knew what the word persistence really meant. This was her chance to pay Jonas back for having faith in her when nobody else had and to finally make her feelings known. If she couldn’t muster up the courage here, she knew it wouldn’t happen back in San Francisco, where they would no doubt fall back into the same old productive platonic patterns of behavior.

A virgin, Tara felt a certain amount of trepidation—and a good deal of anticipation—at the prospect of spending a prolonged period of time in confined quarters with such a sexy virile man. But at the ripe old age of twenty-two, she was past caring about what damage could be done to her reputation.

In fact, she was pretty sure her virginity was her reputation.

Not that she hadn’t had any chances, romantically speaking. Plenty of men had made plays for her, but an old-fashioned girl at heart, Tara was hoping to share the gift of herself with a man who truly loved her. A man who she loved with the kind of passion immortalized in the tender verses she so esteemed. Certainly Jonas’s was as tragic a story as any the great bard had imagined. Although she knew he didn’t blame her for the predicament in which he found himself, Tara couldn’t help feeling guilty for the part she had played in getting him to come to Texas.

When he returned to the living room a moment later, Jonas was wearing a new pair of khaki pants and a soft white polo shirt. She was in the midst of deciding whether she liked him more as a rough-shaven rebel or a clean-shaven jock when it occurred to her that he really fit into neither category. One minute he was looking right into her soul with those piercing eyes and the very next moment his eyes would soften to reveal the hint of a little boy all alone against the world.

“Are you ready to fill me in on what’s happened?” she asked, taking a soda from the wet bar and offering him one, as well.

“After all I’ve been through, I think I deserve something stronger,” Jonas told her, settling down into a sofa and stretching his long legs across the expanse of velvet striping.

Tara substituted a beer for the pop and handed it to him. Then she draped her jacket on the back of her chair.

Noticing the wonders her feminine curves did for the simple scoop-neck shell and matching skirt she wore, Jonas took a long swig of his drink before beginning. “Well, of course, you know all about how I ended up here in the first place.”

“The invitation,” she supplied, feeling a twinge of culpability for her part in encouraging him to come to the Double Crown Ranch. Loyally tied to her own family, she had been thrilled when Jonas told her about the invitation he’d received several months ago from his long-lost uncle, Ryan Fortune, asking him to attend a reunion party for his sister and brother’s “lost heirs.” Apparently, good-looking smooth-talking Cameron Fortune had numerous affairs during his marriage and managed to father three illegitimate children before he was killed in a car crash—with his young assistant.

Jonas’s initial reaction was to scorn the invitation outright. After all, the only thing his birth father had ever given him was a start in the womb of a woman who deserved a whole lot better than she ever got. The thought of that dear woman having to endure Nicolas Goodfellow’s emotional abuse just to secure her illegitimate child a name and a trim suburban home was more than Jonas’s heart could bear considering even now. Other than the fact that it would have given him a good deal of satisfaction to look Cameron up one day and spit in his face, he wasn’t particularly sorry that his biological father was dead.

Still, Ryan Fortune had sounded so genuinely nice over the phone, trying to right his older brother’s wrongs, that Jonas had been sorely tempted to connect with the family he’d never known he had. Since his mother had passed away four years ago, Jonas knew any action he took couldn’t harm her in any way.

And he had been curious, after all.

For years he’d wondered about the man who had abandoned his mother. The one time he had probed for answers, she had bitterly referred to his conception as the product of her only one-night stand. Embarrassed, her ultra-strict religious parents had refused to have anything more to do with her. Shame still burned in her pale gaunt cheeks as she recalled those dismal days, trying to make it all on her own on minimum-wage shift work. That it turned out that Jonas’s real daddy was a multimillionaire didn’t make him any more palatable to the child he’d deserted.

The fact that a stray dog would have gotten better treatment than Jonas had at the hands of his stepfather made his accomplishments all that much more impressive. That he had been able to make something of himself despite all odds was perhaps the biggest reason for him to succumb to the urge to seek out his roots. Many people would clamor to meet their rich relatives in hopes of ingratiating themselves and asking for money; Jonas preferred to let the Fortunes know he didn’t want a damned thing from them.

Other than the respect he’d been denied from birth.

“I brought along a bottle of wine to the reunion like you suggested,” Jonas continued, methodically explaining the events that led him to jail. “As a gesture of goodwill.”

Tara nodded. She knew he wasn’t attaching any guilt to her well-intended idea.

“From that special French shipment. Yes, I remember,” she said.

“It was well received.” Jonas paused thoughtfully before adding almost as an afterthought. “As was I.”

Knowing how much it would please her, he considered telling her how good it had felt being instantly accepted into the Fortune family. They all seemed to be such lovely people—on the surface. After years of enduring his stepfather’s emphatic declarations that he was most definitely not of his loins, Jonas thought he had finally found home.

That home was a Spanish-style mansion situated in the midst of the untold number of acres constituting the fabulous Double Crown Ranch. But this was not nearly as important to Jonas as the fact that such benevolent successful people seemed so anxious to claim him as their own.

“Was there a problem with the wine?” Tara prodded, obviously unaware of the lump lodged like a fist in Jonas’s throat at the memory.

“You could say that,” he replied, the corners of his mouth turning up wryly at the corners at the understatement. There was no tactful way to break the news to her. “Shortly afterward, my uncle was admitted to the hospital, and that particular bottle of wine tested positive for poison. Hence, in a nutshell, my unfortunate incarceration.”

Tara gasped in disbelief. It had never occurred to her that when she encouraged Jonas to establish ties with the Fortunes, there would be even the slightest chance he would be implicated in any kind of criminal activity. Certainly nothing as heinous as what he had just relayed.

The tortured look in those cerulean eyes almost doubled Tara over in empathy. She rushed to his defense in a sputter of denouncement. “But there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that wine! Despite the extravagant price, it’s one of our most popular sellers. In fact, I put in another order to France just two days ago. If there was anything wrong, I’m sure it would have been recalled by the company.”

Surprised by her naiveté in assuming the wine had been tampered with at the factory, Jonas assured her, “Just to be safe, let’s pull all remaining cases from the showroom floor. I’ve insisted that the police test the bottle itself. Seeing how I was eager to make a good first impression, I splurged and bought a big bottle, more than could fit into the antique cut-glass decanter that Ryan poured it into.”

“Even if it tests positive,” Tara declared implacably, “I don’t see how they can possibly tie the crime to you. It isn’t like you were the only guest at the reunion.”

Her outrage was gratifying. In a dark secret part of his heart, Jonas had been bracing himself for the possibility that she might jump to the same conclusion the police had: that he was guilty of attempted murder. Not only was he personally tied to the murder weapon, Sheriff Grayhawk had been quick to point out how easy it would have been for Jonas, as an international importer, to illegally obtain the digitalis without a prescription from an overseas supplier. All things considered, even his high-priced lawyer admitted that the outlook for Jonas wasn’t bright.

It would have killed him to have spied either fear or reproach in his assistant’s big brown eyes. Though he knew he was far from a knight in shining armor, that Tara held him in such openly high regard made Jonas want to be a better man. Maybe he wasn’t worthy of being up on that pedestal where Tara had put him, but he wasn’t ready to relinquish the position just yet.

He was quick to agree with her assessment of the situation. “Of course you’re right. What with Storm Pearce, one of the other two lost heirs, in addition to Uncle Ryan and Aunt Miranda, there had to be enough Fortune cousins and in-laws there to populate at least half of this dusty little town.”

“Surely your uncle realizes that anyone could have—”

“Ryan isn’t in the position to do much clear thinking right now. He’s still in the hospital, deathly ill. As I understand it, he’s not out of the woods yet.”

That particular bombshell lay between them as yet unexploded. If Ryan Fortune were to actually die, Jonas was certain to be charged with his murder. In a state renowned for putting men to death as an example to others, his odds were not good for anything lighter than a life sentence if a jury actually found him guilty by a preponderance of evidence, circumstantial or not.

Things were definitely more serious than Tara had suspected when she had packed up and headed to Texas. She had been under the impression that this was all some sort of gigantic mistake that could easily be cleared up with a little time, logic and detective work.

“But what reason could you possibly have for wanting to kill your uncle?” she demanded to know as if already playing out the courtroom scene in her head.

“Besides the possibility of inheriting millions?” Jonas supplied with a twisted self-deprecating grin. “According to Sheriff Grayhawk, revenge is always a viable incentive. He’s well aware that I’ve never held my real father in much esteem. He seems to think that animosity could carry over to his brother, my uncle Ryan. As much as I hate to admit it, any qualified psychiatrist could have a field day analyzing my motives.”

Tara’s head was swimming. She was glad she wasn’t drinking anything stronger than ginger ale. A person needed all her faculties to piece this hodgepodge together. She eyed Jonas’s drink suspiciously. “You don’t think anyone would tamper with our drinks, do you?”

“I’ve considered the possibility. Though I wouldn’t put it past anyone in Red Rock to try and do me in while I’m holed up here, I think we’re safe as long as we check to make sure the containers are properly sealed.”

The mere suggestion that Jonas might not get out of town alive sent a shiver up Tara’s spine.

“I’d certainly understand if you didn’t feel like sticking around,” Jonas said, reading the goose bumps on her arms.

“Just try to get rid of me,” she quipped with false brightness.

Nothing short of dynamite was going to blast her away from this man’s side in his time of need. If anything happened to Jonas, she didn’t know how she could continue getting up in the mornings. Whether he knew it or not, he was the center of her universe. Rather than dwelling on any pessimistic possibilities, Tara decided to approach this particular predicament as she did every other problem in her life—one methodical step at a time.

Setting her drink down, she signaled that break time was over. She was ready to get back to work.

“As soon as the computer arrives, we’ll get online and catch up on correspondence and paperwork. Then we’ll set about figuring out who the real criminal in your loving family is and decide how best to go about clearing your name.”

The tired smile Jonas gave her was tinged with bitterness. “Goodfellow may be a bastard’s name passed down illegitimately, but after all that’s happened, I have to admit that I prefer it to the one that’s brought me nothing but mis-Fortune since I set foot in Texas.”

Three

Just watching Tara Summers at work was enough to make most people tired. Jonas likened it to studying the mighty ant in action. Seemingly there was no task too big for her to tackle. So when his assistant calmly announced that she had plans to catch the real criminal and clear his name, Jonas was tempted to call the local law-enforcement agencies and put them on alert.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, foolishly hoping the gesture alone would somehow be enough to stop her. “Listen, Tara, I don’t want you doing anything stupid on my behalf. I’d never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you. As flawed as the system may be, let’s put our trust in it and allow the police to do their job. The last thing I need or want is for you to go risking your pretty little neck for me.”

Tara felt a tingle on her shoulder where his hand rested. The touch seared her, burning through layers of clothing. Though the use of the word pretty was flattering, the statement made her feel like a silly schoolgirl.

“What do I have to do to get you to stop bossing me around like I’m some helpless child?” she asked in exasperation.

Jonas’s eyes darkened in response. He’d been having a heck of a time seeing her as an ingenue for quite some time. That Tara insisted he abandon his only shield against her was as unnerving as the way his body reacted whenever she was near.

“I never meant to imply that you’re childish,” he replied in a steady tone.

Far from it! he thought. If only you knew how hard it’s been for me to refrain from acting on the way I see you.

“It’s just that I worry about you, and I don’t like feeling that you think I’m incapable of taking care of my own problems.”

Since that put matters into a completely different light, one that cast Jonas as a man needing to see himself as strong and capable, Tara held her tongue. Being wise beyond her years, she saw no reason to antagonize him further. Besides, she’d do exactly what she wanted to do, anyway.

Within hours, boxes started arriving. In no time at all they had the makings of a temporary office. Soon the main computer was up and running, paperwork was sorted into piles according to priority, and the temp Tara had hired to run the San Francisco office reported that everything there was going relatively smoothly. Feeling underfoot, Jonas lamented that he was going to have to cancel the upcoming buying trip overseas to which he had been so looking forward.

While much of his business was conducted over the Internet, he still enjoyed periodic forays into dangerous territories. Exposure to infectious diseases and sometimes hostile gunfire were part of the allure. His adventurous lifestyle had served him well during the time he’d been forced to wait in jail for Tara’s arrival. As much as he despised his questionable companions, Jonas found them far less formidable than the chieftain of a tribe of headhunters with whom he’d once shared a meal. Of course, the chieftain had been far more honorable than the scumbags who had inhabited the cells next to his.

Tara knew full well that Jonas found the merchandising end of the business rather dull, and she was secretly relieved that he’d been forced to cool his heels for a while. It hadn’t escaped her notice that every time she came remotely close to revealing her true feelings to him, he packed up and went abroad. Unable to bring herself to believe it was merely coincidence, she was determined to use this opportunity to force the issue of whether he felt anything more for her than employer-employee respect.

That Jonas did indeed find her incredibly beguiling was not necessarily due to any untoward behavior on her part. He could no more find fault with her decorum than he could her clothes. What she was wearing at the moment was certainly professional. He couldn’t exactly blame her for his being so fascinated by the way her skirt hugged her hips and exposed a pair of long silky legs or for the way he covertly studied the swell of her breasts beneath the satiny fabric of her shirt.

It wasn’t as if she had deliberately changed the quality or brand of the perfume she wore. Still, her subtle fragrance played havoc with his senses. Every time she came near, it evoked haunting sensual images that could well have landed him in court for sexual harassment had he actually acted on them. Determined that hard work was all he needed to clear his mind and keep him focused, he refused to take a break for the rest of the day.

As evening settled over the sleepy little community like a lacy shawl, Jonas pushed himself away from the computer screen and grumbled that though he was starving, he had no desire to leave the hotel and endure the whispers of “polite society.” Happy to accommodate him, Tara reached around him to shut off the computer and call it a day herself. Jonas was enveloped by the flowery scent of her shampoo as her hair brushed his face. The almost imperceptible touch of her hair against his skin produced an incredibly potent flame in the center of his being.

Tara called room service and ordered a bottle of wine and dinner for two. Personally the romantic aspect of it delighted her. The candles, the wine, the fresh flowers all carted in by a young man dressed pristinely in white seemed divinely inspired to help set just the right mood for elegant seduction.

Unfortunately Jonas seemed impervious to the flickering charm of the moment. The food was delicious, and Tara gave little sighs of pleasure with each bite she took. When she asked him to pass her the salt, his hand inadvertently brushed hers, sending shivers all the length of her body.

“Here’s to the most wonderful assistant in the world,” Jonas said, raising his glass and clinking it gently against hers.

Taking a modest sip, Tara blushed. As potent as the wine, the compliment warmed her from the inside out.

“I’m glad you know how lucky you are to have me,” she replied, batting her eyes exaggeratedly. Since flirting had never been her forte, Tara decided to rely on humor to carry her through any awkward pauses in the conversation.

“I do indeed,” Jonas assured her.

Over the years he had come to rely on Tara’s strength, common sense and wonderful sense of humor in more than just business matters. She had become his confidante, gently encouraging him to attend the Fortune reunion, then rushing to bail him out of jail without the least hesitation.

With every sip of wine his lovely assistant took, he could see her visibly relax. Remembering the drinking that had so long ago landed her in the slammer with his precocious stepsister, he was sorely tempted to remind her to slow down. Still, she looked so pretty sitting there, all flushed and content, that he hated sounding like her father. She was old enough to have a drink if she wanted one. Thinking how that pink suit complemented her fair coloring, he found himself enjoying the company of such a stunning woman.

The sound of her laughter brushed his dark thoughts away. Deciding it the sexiest sound he’d ever heard, Jonas came to realize more fully just how difficult this forced cohabitation was going to be. It had been hard enough back at the office chasing off thoughts of Tara as anything more than his kid sister’s best friend. Here, it would take the fortitude of a saint to ignore that voluptuous body and those mystical dark eyes. How could fate conspire to package innocence and sensuality in such a seductive pink bundle of pure femininity?

Refilling her glass, Jonas told himself that she was safe with him. It wasn’t as if she was driving anywhere tonight, thus endangering herself or others. The worst that could happen was that he might have to tuck her into bed. His own drink poised midway in its path from the table to his lips, the thought caught him unawares. By the way his body reacted, he had to pause to wonder who was going to protect her from him.

Ashamed of the direction his thoughts had taken, Jonas sternly reminded himself of all he owed this woman. Certainly more than the kind of one-night sexual gratification that had led to his own birth. He had no intention of ever doing that to another human being. Especially not to such a genuinely sweet thing as Tara.

“I think I’ll turn in early,” he said, rising from his chair and trying to rouse a yawn. With his body so attuned to the beautiful woman in the room, Jonas seriously doubted he was going to fall asleep anytime soon. The look of disappointment on her face tempted him to sit right back down again. Prudence, however, kept his knees locked in an upright position.

“Good night,” Tara murmured. The regret in her voice implied she somehow felt responsible for hastening his departure.

Long after he had retired to his bedroom, Tara sat in the dying candlelight pondering the future. It was apparent that Jonas was bound and determined to be a gentleman. And while she respected his chivalry, she also found it downright infuriating. Unassuming by nature, she was clearly uncomfortable in the role of aggressor. Yet she knew that if she waited for him to make the first move, she would be destined to die an old maid like that preposterous-looking caricature in the deck of cards she remembered playing with as a child.

Contemplating the half-empty bottle of wine, she thought about accidentally stumbling into Jonas’s bedroom. She could always blame her misguided sense of direction on the alcohol. As luck would have it, such blatant sexual overtures were not Tara’s style. The truth was, she wasn’t confident enough about her own sexual prowess to risk throwing herself at him.

Although Jonas wasn’t seeing anyone seriously at the moment, she knew he didn’t lead a celibate lifestyle. Over time she had watched, with equal measures of envy and disgust, various women blatantly coming on to her boss. Beautiful self-assured women who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to go after it. Experienced women with no fear that they might prove unsatisfactory in bed.

It was agony for Tara to be so close to the man she loved and yet so far. For all intents and purposes they might as well have been separated by thousands of miles as by a single thin wall. Sighing, Tara pushed herself away from the table. On a whim, she snapped a daisy off the fresh spray on the cart and tucked it behind an ear.

“Tomorrow is another day,” she said, melodramatically mimicking one of her favorite fictional characters. Scarlett O’Hara was the kind of woman who would stop at nothing to get her heart’s desire. Certain there was a lesson for herself in the character’s words, Tara headed off to bed determined to put her troubles behind her for the night.

After a sound night’s sleep, she had a pot of coffee brewing and was ready for work by eight the next morning.

Unlike Tara, her boss was decidedly not a morning person. Yawning widely enough to frighten all flies within range, Jonas straggled into the “office” wearing a pair of button-fly jeans and a tight white T-shirt that defined his muscles all too well. His hair was sticking out in all directions. Tara couldn’t decide which impulse was stronger: the one compelling her to run her hands the length of those fabulous biceps or the one urging her to smooth that errant hair. In his disheveled sleepy state, he was enough to make any red-blooded woman’s mouth water. Something about those heavy-lidded eyes made her want to abandon work altogether and tuck herself back into bed with him.

“Coffee?” she asked, reining in her fugitive thoughts and slipping into her professional demeanor.

Jonas mumbled something that she could only assume was yes. Setting a fresh cup before him, she looked at him in concern. “Didn’t you sleep well?”

He could have killed her. Lifting red-rimmed eyes to meet hers, Jonas glared at her. “Not really,” he said, confirming the obvious.

How dare she be so chipper so early in the day? While he’d spent the night tossing and turning, fantasizing about what kind of nightclothes she wore, Tara had apparently been sound asleep, blissfully unaware of his torment. The least she could do was have the decency to be as susceptible as he was to daylight’s harsh glare. Indeed, no dark circles, mussed hair or irritability marred the lovely face Tara presented this morning. If anything she looked prettier than ever in a pair of tight jeans and form-fitting sweater. He doubted she was even aware of how every luscious curve of her body was so tauntingly displayed.

Impervious to Jonas’s dark mood, Tara offered him a doughnut to “sweeten” him up. He took three. Wondering what it would be like to awake every day to such a bright happy countenance, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. That off-key humming of hers was certainly a nice way to start the day.

A long hot shower and shave helped Jonas feel refreshed. Tara jumped when he stepped back into their office after preparing himself for the day. Hurriedly she got off the phone and asked him if he was feeling any better.

Made suspicious by her guilty blush, Jonas ignored the inquiry. “Who was that?” he wanted to know.

Tara wished she was a better liar. “I was trying to get hold of your uncle,” she admitted reluctantly.

The look darkening his features left little doubt that he did not appreciate her meddling.

“I know you’ve been worried,” Tara rushed on, pretending not to notice the way his lips thinned in disapproval. “It sounds like he’s going to be all right, after all. Did you know he’s scheduled to be released from the hospital any day now?”

“No, I didn’t.” Jonas’s words were as clipped as the heels of marching soldiers. “And aside from how it affects me personally, I don’t much care, either.”

Even when inwardly panicked, Tara had the amazing ability to look outwardly serene. She decided to remain quiet and let him make the next move. She focused her attention on the correspondence in front of her.

“All right,” Jonas growled, hating himself for succumbing to curiosity. “What did he have to say?”

Tara fidgeted with opening a letter to avoid meeting his thunderous expression. “Just that his lawyer had advised him not to speak to you. He sounded pretty weak,” Tara added hastily, hoping to douse the fire blazing in Jonas’s eyes. “Like he might have been overmedicated.”

The last thing she wanted to do was put more strain on an already frayed family bond. Ever the optimist, she was still holding out hope that Jonas could still somehow establish a relationship with his Texas kinsmen. Clearly now, however, was not the time to broach that particularly prickly subject.

“I don’t want you to ever speak to that man again. Or any of the Fortunes, for that matter,” Jonas said in a tone that left little doubt he expected to be obeyed.

“That could be kind of hard,” she responded with a forced determined smile, “considering that it would be hard to swing a cat in this town without hitting one of your relations.”

“Then don’t go swinging any cats.”

Petulance welled up in Tara like a geyser. “How dare you speak to me like I’m fourteen!” she erupted. “I’m a grown woman, and I’ll talk to whomever I please, thank you very much. And if you don’t stop treating me like a little girl without the good sense God gave a goose, I’m going to swing more than just a cat at you!”

Startled by her fervor, Jonas softened his tone. “All I’m saying is that I would really prefer that you don’t involve yourself with any of my so-called relatives.” And although he didn’t think he owed her any explanation, he offered one, anyway. “I don’t trust them and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Seeing that the concern clouding those amazing eyes was for her alone, Tara’s indignation melted like ice cream on a hot summer day. Touched, she willingly sought a compromise.

“I appreciate that you don’t want me to get hurt, Jonas,” she told him, her own tone softer now, too. “But you need to realize that you are the one in danger here, not me. If somebody is out to frame you for murder, who knows how far this could go? I can’t stand the thought of someone trying to destroy you.” Tara’s voice cracked with emotion. “I promise I’ll be careful if you’ll do the same.”

Unable to argue with what appeared to be perfectly sound logic, not to mention moving loyalty, Jonas decided to take Tara at her word. Unable to do anything about the situation but wait, he turned his attention to the business of the day. It came as no surprise that his competent assistant had things completely under control. With the exception of some documents that he needed to sign, Jonas felt more or less in the way. Furthermore, the news about his uncle had been unsettling. As much as Jonas hated to admit it, he had been anxious to be accepted by his new family. It hurt him deeply that they all suspected him of foul play. Though relieved to hear that Ryan was to be released soon, Jonas nonetheless felt insulted that his uncle refused to so much as speak to him.

How he longed to hop the next plane and put all this turmoil behind him! Jonas often found himself hankering for the kind of overseas travel that most people would find traumatic. He recognized the restlessness he was feeling for what it was—the need to run; to put distance between himself and trouble spelled with a capital Tara.

Unfortunately the law prevented him from following his usual pattern of escape.

The day crawled by. Jonas had difficulty focusing on anything other than the slender curve of his assistant’s neck as she bent over her work, the texture of her hair brushing enchantingly against his hand as he reached to take the phone from her, a sweet musky scent that set his pulse throbbing and a guileless pair of eyes framed by lashes so long Jonas thought they should at least warrant a city ordinance. By quitting time, he thought he would go mad if he didn’t get out of his incredible shrinking hotel suite.

“I need some air,” he announced suddenly.

Startled, Tara pulled her gaze away from the computer screen to study his face. Glancing at her watch, she saved her work with a single keystroke and smiled affably.

“What do you say we go out for dinner?”

Jonas couldn’t bring himself to utter the loud “No!” reverberating in his brain. After all, there was no rational reason to decline the invitation, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt Tara’s feelings. He just wanted to put some space between them so that he could clear the cobwebs from his head. Hoping that simply getting out of the hotel would be enough to give him some breathing room, Jonas acquiesced to her suggestion. Perhaps she would want to window-shop after dinner and he could make up some excuse to go back to the room and check for messages. If he didn’t get away from her soon, he knew he was going to have trouble keeping his unruly desire at bay.

Although Tara was aware of how awkward it was for Jonas to be seen in public, given the charges against him, she was still excited about going out for dinner with him. Aside from the fact that she was the only female in town that he knew, apart from relatives, it was almost like a real date. She ran a brush through her hair and put on a dab of lipstick for the occasion. The natural color on her cheeks made the need for any other makeup unnecessary.

They picked out a small out-of-the-way restaurant in hopes that no one would recognize Jonas. He directed the hostess to seat them in a dimly lit booth against the back wall and did his best to ignore the fact that people craned their necks to stare as they made their way to their seats. Jonas tried dismissing their curiosity, knowing that Tara’s classic features, natural elegance and curvaceous figure would have made her the target of envious gawking even had she not been seen with Red Rock’s most infamous jail-bird.

For her part, Tara attributed Jonas’s restlessness throughout their meal to the fact that he had virtually been penned up for too long. All day he had reminded her of a panther pacing behind the bars of a cage avariciously eyeing freedom. Growling at anyone who came too near.

What Tara did not understand was that it was her own nearness causing his decided unease.

Jonas took pleasure from the fact that Tara so completely enjoyed her meal. Having dated women who picked daintily at high-priced plates and lied about being full after three mouthfuls, it was refreshing to be with someone with a healthy appetite. Figuring her for the kind of woman who would likely enjoy a good ball game while relishing a hot dog with the works and a plastic cup of frothy beer on the side, Jonas wished he could hop the next plane and whisk her off to Candlestick Park.

It had been a long time since such simple joys had held any appeal for Jonas. As a child he’d had no father to take him to ball games or compete in three-legged races or toss a football around in the backyard. Secretly he had cursed the man who was his real father and made up lame excuses for the stepfather who never once showed up at any of his activities. As a grown man, Jonas tried supplanting hurtful memories by journeying to faraway places and deliberately putting himself in dangerous situations. It had never occurred to him that a simpler answer lay closer at home in a pair of soft brown eyes that had the power to magically make the world seem new all over again.

When Tara finished off the last bite of her chocolate cheesecake with a satisfied sigh, she suggested they catch the early movie showing in town. Thinking it would be a good way to get his mind off work, off his troubles and off a certain pretty blonde, Jonas agreed. He neglected, however, to take into account how his body might react to sitting next to an enchantress in the dark, her fragrance wrapping itself around his senses, effectively blocking out the drama playing on the screen. Tara’s laughter was so infectious that he found himself smiling in all the appropriate places even though he wasn’t paying a bit of attention to the actors’ lines.

Once when something in the film frightened her, Tara grabbed his arm and squeezed hard. He flexed his muscles beneath her hand. No matter how undeserved it might be, her reaction made him feel strong and protective as an overpowering surge of hormones raged through his body. All the while he was wondering why his age wasn’t tempering such purely physical reactions with prudence, he enjoyed feeling like her hero.

Clearly this was the epitome of foolishness. And every bit as dangerous for Tara’s tender heart as for his jaded one. After all, what could the future hold for a man accused of attempted murder?

Emerging from the darkened theater to a surprisingly soft twilight, Jonas had every intention of separating himself from her for the remainder of the evening on any pretense at all. Why he accepted her suggestion that he accompany her on a walk through the park before turning in for the day was as much a mystery to him as who had tried to poison Uncle Ryan Fortune. August days tend to be punishing in Texas, and this one had been no exception. The cooler temperature of the falling night was a welcome relief as they strolled up to a Civil War cannon that seemed horribly out-of-place next to modern-day playground equipment.

The park was deserted save for one lone family. The parents were loading up the remnants of their picnic, folding tablecloths and blankets and gathering their protesting brood. The father chased his youngest, a red-haired little girl who squealed in delight at what she perceived as a game of tag. Tara and Jonas kept their gazes away from one another, as if being alone could somehow make disturbing longings for such a simple loving lifestyle disappear like the light fading from the sky.

Uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts were taking, Tara challenged Jonas to race her to the swings. When he staunchly refused, she called him an old fuddy-duddy and set off on her own. She looked so beautiful with her thick mane of golden hair streaming out behind her that Jonas couldn’t help but be stirred by the sight. He took off after her and, despite her sizable head start, beat her to the swings.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.