Captain John Murdock, USMC, Retired, with the strong hands and gruff sarcasm, was all male, all muscle and a mystery to her.
Maggies mind replayed every moment of that encounter with her new neighbor. She could still hear the deep voice demanding she do the right thing despite her fearsstill feel the big hands that had accidentally warmed her and made her feel unexpectedly secure when hed clasped her fingers. She could easily recall her gratitude that hed spoken kindly to her chatty son even though shed done nothing to encourage any type of conversation. John Murdock was bigger and stronger than her in every way.
She should be afraid of a man like that.
And yet shed run to him for answers and assurances.
But blindly trusting a man like that was a mistake she couldnt afford to repeat. Was she a fool to believe the military cut of his golden-brown hair and proud carriage of his shoulders meant he was a man whod defend her?
About the Author
JULIE MILLER attributes her passion for writing romance to all those fairy tales she read growing up, and to shyness. Encouragement from her family to write down all those feelings she couldnt express became a love for the written word. She gets continued support from her fellow members of the Prairieland Romance Writers, where she serves as the resident grammar goddess. This award-winning author and teacher has published several paranormal romances. Inspired by the likes of Agatha Christie and Encyclopedia Brown, Ms Miller believes the only thing better than a good mystery is a good romance.
Born and raised in Missouri, she now lives in Nebraska with her husband, son and smiling guard dog, Maxie. Write to Julie at PO Box 5162, Grand Island, NE 68802-5162, USA.
The Marine
Next Door
Julie Miller
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Prologue
Maybe there wont be a wedding!
How can you say that?
Hidden by the trash bins where hed been working after regular customer hours, the man lingered in the shadows outside the Fairy Tale Bridal Shop near downtown Kansas City and watched as the back door swung open and the young couple stormed out into the parking lot.
An older woman, her hair gleaming like brass in the illumination of the trendy neighborhoods wrought-iron lights, hurried after them. You ungrateful little girl.
Please. The shopkeeper following behind her tried to intervene but wasnt assertive enough to be paid any heed. You shouldnt be making big decisions right now
No, Mother. The young woman whirled around and he caught his breath. She was so classically beautiful. So perfect. So like No, dont go there. Its young woman. Grown woman. Not little girl. You cant force this on me. Its too big. Too much. I dont want this.
You still want me, right? The tall man in the tailored suit reached for her.
She shrugged off his touch with an unladylike grunt and no answer.
Sweetheart. The tall man smiled and clasped his hands around her shoulders, trying to soothe her temper. Lets go to our dinner reservation and use the time to cool off. Its been a long day.
Im not hungry. She shook him off.
The man in the shadows smiled beneath the mask he wore over his nose and mouth. That one had fire. An insidious awareness of her feminine strength licked through his veins and made him clench his fist around the bag he carried.
Then let me drive you home. Well talk.
No! The young beauty spun around and stamped her high heels toward the sidewalk that ran along the street. Ill catch a cab.
Sweetheart?
She really shouldnt
When the young man and mousy shopkeeper moved to follow, the mother stopped them both. Dont bother. Shes been like this for weeks now. Ill try to talk some sense into her when she gets home.
Seriously? They were letting her march off by herself? Not that this was as dangerous a neighborhood as it had once been now that buildings were being renovated and new shops and young professionals were moving in. And the Shamrock Bar just a couple of blocks over, where a good cross-section of KCPD cops liked to hang out after hours, offered some degree of crime deterrence. Still, a woman alone, brave enough to face the city at nighttoo upset to be truly aware of her surroundings
The man glanced up. The last vestiges of graying twilight were giving way to stars and a dim crescent moon. Night was falling, and it would be a dark one. Traffic was light between the race of rush hour and the incoming surge of the citys nightlife.
She wouldnt find that cab anytime soon.
The forgettable woman went back into her shop. With a silent nudge, the bossy mother and groom-to-be climbed into their car.
His pulse raced in anticipation at the opportunity at hand. The shop door locked. The car drove off. It would be so easy. It had been so long.
Dont. A voice of reason inside his head tried to warn him off the impulse heating his blood. You dont need this anymore. Youre better than this.
But he wanted. Hungered.
And she was all alone.
He dropped his bag to unzip his jacket and reach inside his pocket. Everything he needed was in his vehicle. It would be so easy.
I told you to get rid of those things. Dont think this way. Stop.
But hed done without for so long, hed been so good. Still, the rage burned inside him every time he thought of her.
And the hurt. The humiliation.
It wasnt his fault. She couldnt do this to him. Not again. He wouldnt let her. He needed her to pay. He needed to take back all shed stolen from him.
Its not the same. Youre confused.
Shut up, he muttered, feeling his own hot breath moisten the fibers of the mask he wore.
He moved from the shadows to peek around the corner of the brick building. The street was practically empty. Storefronts were dark. The apartments above them were far removed from a world that was quickly shrinking to the quick, purposeful strides of the blonde woman and his own raging need.