The Quiet Seduction. Dixie BrowningЧитать онлайн книгу.
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CLUB TIMES
For Members’ Eyes Only
Dorothy sure ain’t in Texas anymore!
If Mission Creek isn’t going to Hades in a handbasket, I don’t know what is happening. ’Tis the season for losing your valuables! First Luke Callaghan abandons us, and now our scrumptious D.A., Spence Harrison, has disappeared! In addition, Nadine Delarue claims she lost her diamond solitaire, but something tells us that new pooch of hers might have needed some extra crunch in his dog food.
By the way, let’s see a show of hands for those who think Josie Carson (née Lavender) might be overdoing it with “eating for two.” Isn’t there a limit to how much you’re supposed to gain during pregnancy? Whatever the case may be, Josie, that extra baby weight sure looks good on you!
I’m pleased to announce that Dylan Bridges is the winner of our Yellow Rose Café Wednesday raffle.
Dylan is now the proud owner of the Lone Star Country Club quilt made by our very own “Over Eighty” quilting circle. Dylan, ignore some of the irregular stitching patterns and remember that there’s enough room under that quilt for you and that beautiful wife of yours. All raffle proceeds go to benefit the Mission Creek High School marching band and their tour of New York City.
And that’s all she wrote for this issue, members. As always, make your best stop of the day right here at the Lone Star Country Club!
About the Author
DIXIE BROWNING
is an award-winning painter and writer, mother and grandmother. Her father was a big-league baseball player, her grandfather a sea captain. In addition to nearly ninety-five contemporary romances, Dixie and her sister, Mary Williams, have written more than a dozen historical romances under the name Bronwyn Williams.
Among her romances, very few have been set in Texas. Even so, despite having lived in North Carolina her entire life, she was tempted by the offer to write one of the LONE STAR COUNTRY CLUB books. Long a fan of suspense, she was especially drawn to that particular aspect of the series. New tactics were required to deal with the many continuity elements. Some things, however, transcend location. If you agree that she’s succeeded in rising to the challenge, perhaps you can reassure her through her Web site, www.dixiebrowning.com, or at: P.O. Box 1389, Buxton, NC 27920.
The Quiet Seduction
Dixie Browning
Welcome to the
Where Texas society reigns supreme—and appearances are everything.
The Texas mafia is on the warpath….
Spence Harrison: While en route to the state prison, this high-powered D.A. saw a little boy in harm’s way of a tornado. It wasn’t a question whether he’d heroically risk his life to save the lad. But hitting his head and suffering amnesia wasn’t part of the plan. Neither was seducing the boy’s soft-spoken mom, whose tender ministrations penetrated Spence’s guarded heart….
Ellen Wagner: This struggling farmer didn’t know what to make of the wounded stranger who made her pulse race out of control. But when menacing men came looking for her handsome housemate, she instinctively knew she had to protect him. Will their newfound love be darkened by the Texas underworld?
Mayhem in Mission Creek: During a power struggle between two formidable mobsters, a shocking suspicion comes to light about a presumed-dead heiress. Now the truth sets off a dangerous chain of events….
To my editor, Margaret Marbury, the woman behind the entire LONE STAR COUNTRY CLUB series.
Margaret, I’m in awe of your talent.
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
Chapter Fifteen
One
Spence Harrison scanned the dial in search of a weather update while he drove, half his attention on the highway, half on the sky. He had enough on his mind without heading into a patch of nasty weather. In this section of South Texas, scattered showers might mean anything from a few tepid drops to baseball-size hail. Yesterday’s prediction of scattered showers had produced a deluge.
Luckily, traffic was light on the secondary highway. All he had to do was watch out for slow-moving tractors and a speeding ticket, as his foot tended to be heavier on the accelerator when he was under tension. For a district attorney on his way to the state prison to take an on-site deposition—one he didn’t trust anyone else to take—a speeding ticket would be embarrassing, to say the least.
Reaching up, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. Damn, it was getting hot! He turned the air conditioner up another notch. Cutting back to a moderate sixty-five miles an hour, he tried to concentrate on the task ahead. The trouble came in trying to narrow his focus.
The last call he’d taken before leaving his office had had nothing to do with the murder trial he was preparing to prosecute, or even the information he was hoping to uncover from this particular witness. Instead it concerned Luke Callaghan, a good friend, Virginia Military Institute classmate and old marine corps buddy who had dropped off the radar screen after arriving in Central America. It had been more than a week since he’d reported in.
Considering his usual extravagant lifestyle, his disappearance would not have been surprising, but in this particular case it was definitely a cause for alarm. Luke was involved in a risky undercover rescue mission. Their former commander, Phillip Westin, had gone down somewhere in a Central American jungle—not a great place to go missing. Spence wasn’t privy to all the details, but from the few he did know he’d been able to extrapolate others with his well-honed power of deduction. A logical mind and the ability to reason were valuable tools in his particular line of work.
At the moment, however, those abilities were being stretched thin. As the miles sped past, Spence’s thoughts ricocheted back and forth between Luke’s situation and recent revelations on an entirely different front that made it imperative that he find out just which cops had gone rogue. It was hardly the thing a man could ask if he wanted to stay healthy. At this point, not even Internal Affairs was above suspicion.
Spence could count on the fingers of one hand the cops he could trust. It was a sad state of affairs, damned sad. Most were probably clean, but he couldn’t be sure. Not until he had enough evidence to trigger an outside investigation. He was counting on today’s deposition to add a few more parts to the puzzle.
It had been the murder of Judge Carl Bridges that had shaken things loose. The judge had been a powerful man in Lone Star County—a man