The Ice Man
“Is what happened between us last night upsetting you?”
Letter to Reader
Title Page
Books by Brittany Young
About the Author
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Teaser chapter
Copyright
“Is what happened between us last night upsetting you?”
“Yes.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper.
“Why?”
“Because we have a professional relationship. It shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to—”
“Get so out of control?” Jack finished for her. “I was, too. Neither of us could have stopped. I wanted you.” He gazed lingeringly at her lovely face. “I still want you. I think I have from the moment you walked into my office. You make me feel...” Jack shook his head. “That’s it. You make me feel. I look at you—touch you—and I discover emotions I didn’t know I was capable of.”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
Jack pulled her into his arms and held her close. “Last night was as natural for both of us as breathing. It was inevitable.”
Dear Reader,
Everyone loves Linda Turner, and it’s easy to see why, when she writes books like this month’s lead title. The Proposal is the latest in her fabulous miniseries, THE LONE STAR SOCIAL CLUB. Things take a turn for the sexy when a straitlaced lady judge finds herself on the receiving end of an irresistible lawyer’s charms as he tries to argue her into his bed. The verdict? Guilty—of love in the first degree.
We’ve got another miniseries, too: Carla Cassidy’s duet called SISTERS. You’ll enjoy Reluctant Wife, and you’ll be eagerly awaiting its sequel, Reluctant Dad, coming next month. Reader favorite Marilyn Pappano is back with The Overnight Alibi, a suspenseful tale of a man framed for murder. Only one person can save him: the flame-haired beauty who spent the night in question in his bed. But where is she? And once he finds her, what is she hiding? Brittany Young joins us after writing twenty-six books for Silhouette Romance and Special Edition. The Ice Man, her debut for the line, will leave you eager for her next appearance. Nancy Gideon is back with Let Me Call You Sweetheart, a tale of small-town scandals and hot-running passion. And finally, welcome first-time author Monica McLean. Cinderella Bride is a fabulous marriage-of-convenience story, a wonderful showcase for this fine new author’s talents.
And after you read all six books, be sure to come back next month, because it’s celebration time! Intimate Moments will bring you three months’ worth of extra-special books with an extra-special look in honor of our fifteenth anniversary. Don’t miss the excitement.
Leslie J. Wainger
Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator
* * *
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
* * *
THE ICE MAN
BRlTTANY YOUNG
Books by Brittany Young
Silhouette Intimate Moments
The Ice Man #849
Silhouette Romance
Arranged Marriage #165
A Separate Happiness #297
No Special Consideration #308
The Karas Cup #336
An Honorable Man #357
A Deeper Meaning #375
No Ordinary Man #388
To Catch a Thief #424
Gallagher’s Lady #454
All or Nothing #484
Far from Over #537
A Matter of Honor #550
Worth the Risk #574
The Kiss of a Stranger #597
A Man Called Travers #622
The White Rose #640
A Woman in Love #658
The Ambassador’s Daughter #700
The Seduction of Anna #729
The House by the Lake #759
One Man’s Destiny #807
Lady in Distress #831
A Holiday To Remember #885
Silhouette Books
Silhouette Christmas Stories 1989
“Silent Night”
Silhouette Special Edition
Jenni Finds a Father #941
Brave Heart #996
Mistaken Bride #1076
BRITTANY YOUNG
lives and writes in Racine, Wisconsin. She has traveled to most of the countries that serve as the settings for her books and finds the research into the language, customs, history and literature of these countries among the most demanding and rewarding aspects of her writing.
Thanks to Cathy Perez, for her perfect Spanish
Thanks to Inkapirka, for their glorious music
Prologue
It was two o’clock in the morning. Jack Allessandro stood in his semidarkened office, and as the ferocious music of Béla Bartók filled it from comer to corner, he looked down at the nearly deserted Chicago street twenty stories below. He raised the half-full glass of scotch to his lips and took a drink.
He looked like what he was—a very successful businessman—from the conservative cut of his dark hair to the fit of his expensive suit. His jacket was neatly laid over the arm of the leather couch. His tie was loosened and the sleeves of his pristine white shirt were rolled halfway up his forearms. He was a powerful-looking man—tall, dark complected and broad shouldered. Women had thrown themselves at him since he was a teenager, and he had taken some of them up on what they’d offered.
But his heart had remained untouched.
Maybe that was just the way it would always be for him. Maybe he was incapable of loving a woman any way but physically.
Jack took another drink.
Lately he’d found himself thinking about having children. The older he grew, the more he thought about it. Of course, thinking about it and doing something about it were two different things.
Jack didn’t know what he’d expected. Perhaps that he’d look at a woman one day—one particular woman—and realize that she and only she was the one he wanted as the mother of his child.
Well, he’d looked at a lot of women over the years and never once had that thought crossed his mind.
And as common as it was these days, he didn’t want a child without a wife.
Perhaps he should just settle on someone, bite the bullet and get married. The woman he was currently seeing had some good qualities. He wasn’t in love with her, but he was fond of her. That could grow into something deeper over time. She had certainly made her feelings for him obvious.
“I knew I’d find you still in your office.”
Jack turned to find his younger sister standing in the doorway. “Patty,” he said with a rare smile as he put down his drink and crossed the office to embrace her. “What are you doing here at this hour? You should be at home with your husband and daughter.”
“I’ve been on duty at the hospital for the past thirty-six hours. I’m at the point where I’m too tired to drive myself home. Is it okay if I bunk with you tonight?”
“Of course.”
Patty pointed at her brother’s drink. “Do you have one of those for me?”
Jack went to the bar and mixed another scotch while Patty turned down the Bartók, sank into a chair across from Jack’s desk and pro
pped up her aching feet.
“Thanks,” said Patty when her brother handed her the drink. “So why aren’t you ever at your apartment? All you have to do is get on the elevator and go straight up. It’s your building, after all.”
“Long workdays.”
Patty quirked an eyebrow. “Is that the only reason?”
“There’s nothing really to go home to,” said Jack quietly as he sat down. “I sleep there. That’s pretty much it.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“I know, I know.”
“You work too much. You always have.”
“Perhaps. But it’s a choice I’ve made.”
Patty gazed with warm brown eyes at the big brother she loved with all her heart. “No, you didn’t, Jack. It was thrust upon you the day you took me out of our grandparents’ home to raise me yourself. If it weren’t for you, I would never have made it through medical school,” she said softly. “I probably wouldn’t have made it through high school.” She looked at Jack for a long, quiet moment. “I think about that a lot, Jack. You’re the one who made the life I live now possible. You were so focused on raising me and building this company that you didn’t have time left for yourself. But now you do. Now you can afford to sit back, relax and enjoy your life.”
“Who says I’m not enjoying it?”
“I do.”
“Patty...”
“I can’t even remember the last time I heard you laugh out loud. And the only time you smile is around my daughter or me.”
“I’ve never been much of a smiler.”
“You would be if you had someone to share your life with.”
A corner of Jack’s mouth curved upward. “It’s just like a happily married woman to assume that’s the answer for everyone else.”
“It is.”
“I have yet to meet a woman I would want to be married to.”
“Have you really looked?”
“Odd that this should come up. I was just thinking about it.”
“And did you arrive at any conclusions?”
“No conclusions. Just questions.”
“Such as?”
“Maybe I’m asking for too much. Maybe the kind of woman I think I can love doesn’t exist.”
“She exists, all right. You just haven’t met her yet. ”
“So you believe in soul mates?”
“I can’t say that I did until I met my Kevin, but I do now. Somewhere out there, Jack, is the one woman in the world who is your other half. I know it.”
“For such an educated woman, you talk a lot of nonsense.” His words were blunt but his tone was gentle.
“You call it nonsense now, but I’m going to remind you of this conversation when you finally do meet Her.”
Jack took another swallow of his drink. “I don’t know. I was thinking that maybe I should just marry Barbara.”
Patty couldn’t disguise her dismay. “You don’t love her!”
“How do you know that?”
“Anyone who sees the way you look at her can tell.” Patty shook her head. “Mark my words, Jack. One of these days when you least expect it, a woman is going to walk into your life and turn everything upside down. Think how horrible that moment will be for you if you’re married to someone else.”
“Barbara’s a good woman.”
Patty shrugged. “She’s all right, I guess. But if you choose her, you’ll be settling. And you’ve never just settled for anything in your life.”
Jack didn’t say anything.
Patty suddenly snapped her fingers. “I almost forgot. Kevin wants me to invite you to a cookout at our house a week from Saturday. Are you free?”
Jack leaned forward and looked at his calendar. “I’ll be there.”
“You can even bring Barbara if you want,” she said with a smile.
“I almost have to. If I come alone, you’ll try to set me up with one of your friends.”
“I do tend to do that,” Patty said apologetically. “It’s just that I love you and want to see you happy.” Patty finished her drink and put it on the desk. “I need some sleep, dear brother.”
Jack rose to his full height of six foot three. “I’ll take you upstairs and tuck you in. Did you call Kevin to tell him where you are?”
“Before I came here.”
“You’re lucky you fell in love with a writer who works at home.”
“Believe me, I give thanks every day for that man. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“It goes both ways, Patty.”
She smiled up at her brother. “That’s the beauty of it.”
“Come on then, Dr. Phillips,” he said as he gave her a hand up from the chair. “Let’s go.”
Moments later Jack stood at the window of his darkened apartment and stared outside. There was a restlessness in him that he couldn’t shake. Was Patty right? Could the woman he’d unknowingly been searching for be out there somewhere?
Chapter 1
Riley Hennessey pressed the intercom button on his desk. “Has Kyra Courtland arrived yet?” he asked his secretary.
“She just walked through the door.”
“Send her in.”
Kyra was smiling at something the secretary said as she opened the door to her boss’s office deep in the Department of Justice.
“What’s she saying about me now?” he asked gruffly.
“Only that you’re in a foul mood and I should just nod and agree with everything you say.”
He pressed the intercom button again. “For the record, my dear Mrs. Henry, I am not in a foul mood.”
“Yes, sir.”
He waved Kyra into a seat across from his desk. He had to admit, even though he was fast approaching sixty, he enjoyed looking at Kyra. She reminded him of Grace Kelly, with her lovely face and soft blond hair. But rather than being cool and aloof as her looks might indicate, she was in fact a warm, wonderful woman. It made a person feel good just to be in the same room with her. And she carried herself with a quiet dignity. Kyra worked in a world peopled mostly by competitive men, and her warmth could have set her up for harassment. But her dignity and humor had won her co-workers’ respect. Not one man at the department would have dreamed of making a pass at her, no matter how tempting it might be. If anything, they were protective of her the way they might have been of a much beloved sister.
“What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” Kyra asked with some evidence of that good humor as she sank into the chair and crossed her long legs.
“You’re not going to like it.”
“That much I already figured out.”
Riley tossed his pen onto his desk as he leaned back in his seat and propped up his feet. “I’ve got a case I want you to look into.”
“I’m listening.”
“High-tech military hardware smuggling.”
“To where?”
“Iran and China.”
“What’s that got to do with us?”
“All roads seem to lead from Washington—spe cifically a member of Congress and probably more than one person at the Pentagon.”
“It sounds as though you already know who.”
“We have our suspicions. But that’s not the same as knowing it for a fact. Have you heard of a congressman by the name of Burton Banacomp?”
“Isn’t he on the House Arms Committee?”
“That’s the one. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let me give you some background. Do you know anything about how we dispose of our military hardware?”
“Not in any detail.”
“Every item manufactured for the Defense Department receives a code number. When it comes time to scrap the items because of obsolescence or downsizing in the military, these numbers are used to determine which pieces need to be destroyed before they’re sold for scrap and which items, like refrigerators, can be sold as is. What’s been happening is that some sensitive materiel—everything from rocket launchers to computers with nucle
ar launch codes still in memory—are being deliberately miscoded, shipped in crates labeling them as legitimate scrap and being sold to foreign countries that are potentially our enemies. You can imagine the repercussions for our national security.”
“This sounds more like a job for Customs than the Department of Justice.”
“Believe me, they’re doing their part. We’ve been working with them and will continue to do so. But you and I both know that Customs inspects only about one-tenth of one percent of what leaves this country. We need to stop this flood at its source.”
“The source being...?”
“Mainly Washington. We’ve got someone on the inside at the Pentagon already who’s managed to get some good information.”
“What about Burton’s office?”
“He’s a wily fellow. The people who are closest to Burton are all cronies—people he’s known and trusted for years. Our efforts to get someone placed close to him haven’t been at all successful.”
“What about wiretaps?”
“We don’t want to go that route. To get a tap means going to court and getting permission. Word might leak out and get back to the congressman. There are people all over this place who owe him favors. If that happens and he backs off, we’ll never find out anything.”
“This is all very interesting, Riley, but so far I don’t see where I fit in.”
Riley leaned back in his seat. “Let’s say Banacomp is our man on the inside—and I believe he is. He has access to the codes, to the people who assign the codes and to the people who are supposed to destroy the coded equipment and sell it for scrap.”
“Okay.”
“What’s missing in this picture?”
Kyra thought for a moment. “Well, if he intends to profit from selling the technology that hasn’t been properly scrapped, he first has to own it, or at least have control over it.”