Was she a ghost sent to drive him mad? Teague Harris wondered when the woman he knew as Kirsten appeared without warning. Shea McKenzie insisted she knew nothing of his vanished fiancée, yet she couldn't explain why she'd been drawn to this town—nor deny Teague's anguished plea for her help. But when she began remembering things she couldn't know, Shea feared what her masquerade had unleashed. Was Teague her destiny . . . or her destroyer?
Darkly sensual and deeply emotional, Catherine Mulvany's tale of passion, mystery, and murder teaches us that love can be stronger than death—and desire more powerful still. Bound by a longing she barely understood, she'd agreed to a perilous charade that could cost her everything, but did she dare risk her heart on a man with so many secrets?
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"Why do you always do that?" Shea asked when she caught Teague staring at her for the second time in five minutes.
"I like the way you look when you're eating, as if every bite were an adventure."
She put her fork down. "But when you stare like that, I feel self-conscious. Like I have a milk mustache or something."
He stroked her upper lip with his forefinger.
She shivered in response.
"Nope," he said. "No full moon." He covered her hand, twining his fingers with hers. "I'm sorry if I make you feel uncomfortable, though."
Heat shot up her arm. She swiveled around to face him, intending to say, "Thanks for lunch. I'd better be going now." Only when she saw his eyes, smoky with desire, she swallowed the words and brought her free hand up to caress his cheek.
When he licked his tongue inside her mouth, a jolt of raw desire rocked her like a surge of electricity. Lightning strikes, she thought, dizzy with wanting him.
Kissing Teague was good, no doubt about it. Kissing Teague was very, very good, but kissing Teague wasn't enough. Not this time.