Jennifer's Outlaw Read online

  Jennifer watched him ride away, watcbed until be was out of sight.

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  KAREN ANDERS

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  Jennifer watched him ride away, watcbed until be was out of sight.

  Trouble. He looked like big-time trouble to her. An outlaw with a gallant streak. A battle-scarred warrior, from the looks of him. Thief of hearts if ever she saw one. She needed to steer a wide berth around him while he was in town.

  It was safer for her.

  Safer for her heart.

  Safer for her sanity.

  She let her breath trickle out. She didn’t need any more outlaws in her life. One had been enough. Plus, Corey Rainwater was running from something. It was in his eyes. The law? The past? Love? It fit with the image of him. Weren’t outlaws always running from something?

  And weren’t there always women who wanted to help them or reform them?

  Well, not her. Not this time...

  Dear Reader,

  By now you’ve undoubtedly come to realize how special our Intimate Moments Extra titles are, and Maura Seger’s The Perfect Couple is no exception. The unique narrative structure of this book only highlights the fact that this is indeed a perfect couple—if only they can find their way back together again.

  Alicia Scott begins a new miniseries, MAXIMILLIAN’S CHILDREN, with Maggie’s Man, a genuine page-turner. Beverly Bird’s Compromising Positions is a twisty story of love and danger. And welcome Carla Cassidy back after a too-long absence, with Behind Closed Doors, a book as steamy as its title implies. Margaret Watson offers The Dark Side of the Moon, while new author Karen Anders checks in with Jennifer’s Outlaw.

  You won’t want to miss a single one. And don’t forget to come back next month for more of the best romantic reading around—only from Silhouette Intimate Moments.

  Leslie 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

  * * *

  JENNIFER’S OUTLAW

  KAREN ANDERS

  Published by Silhouette Books

  America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance

  KAREN ANDERS

  lives in northern Virginia with her two children. She is the support person for a psychology graduate program at an area university, and the graduate students refer to her as “the goddess.” She earned the title for her infinite wisdom, which comes from nine years of service to the department.

  She believes that a book is a gateway into an exciting world, and feels lucky to bring this world magically to life with her own unique way of telling a story. She enjoys creating unconventional characters with unique personalities. Her first book is the realization of a nineteen-year dream. She calls herself a true, dyed-inthe-wool romantic, and is not ashamed to admit it, so it comes as no surprise that she writes romantic stories.

  Her many interests include country dancing, crossstitching, horseback riding, book research and, of course, reading. She’d love to hear from her readers, who can write to Karen c/o Silhouette Books, 300 E. 42nd Street, Sixth Floor, New York, NY 10017.

  To my family and my daughters, Meghann and Briana, for their precious love. To the supportive efforts of my fabulous GMU fan club, especially Jim Maddux for his marvelous support. To Ruth Graham for her undying faith. To my agent Joseph Anthony for his wonderful expertise. To Ruby Sheradsky for her help in a trying time. To Donna Broshek, the sister of my heart, for listening, editing, critiquing, pushing and just plain believing. To Debra Robertson, my gracious editor. And to Lisa; she knows why.

  Chapter 1

  Jennifer Horn stood her ground, daring Jay Butler to hit her. The sun-drenched parking lot sweltered in the late-morning heat, ripples of hot hazy vapor rising from the black asphalt like steam from an overheated kettle. The wind blew swirling dust around the lot, rattling the leaves on the trees with a dry papery sound.

  A crowd had formed to watch the quarrel between the two prominent Silver Creek citizens. Jay’s angry voice rose in pitch and the people watching stirred nervously as he raised his hand to slap her. She could almost feel the sting from the anticipated slap. Backing down hadn’t even occurred to her.

  Her eyes shifted to Tucker who stood behind his father, his eyes bleak and filled with dread. The boy’s body was rigid and ready to spring forward. Jennifer implored him with her eyes to stay put. If he interfered, Jay’s wrath would be turned solely on him and she couldn’t bear that. Her eyes slid to the nervously shifting crowd.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  A hand came out of nowhere to clasp Jay Butler’s wrist, and a solid barrier stood between her and Jay, eclipsing the sun. The stranger towered over her, and Jennifer noted that his deep, husky voice had been soft with menace.

  The anxiety that had churned in her stomach when Jay raised his hand slowly disappeared. And when the stranger moved sideways, bringing Jay with him, she stared up, searching out his eyes. Her father had told her that she could always gauge a man by his eyes, but this one wore mirrored sunglasses, his eyes concealed. He had on a black Mexican-style hat with shiny silver conchos decorating the band. Two thin cords were cinched tightly under his dark stubbled chin.

  If it weren’t for his long, black hair and the missing gun belt that would look natural strapped to his lean hips and strong thigh, he would look like Clint Eastwood in High Plains Drifter.

  He even stood like a gunslinger.

  Her eyes traveled over the rest of him as he glared at Jay with a forcefulness that even she felt. With Jay’s wrist tightly manacled in the stranger’s powerful, black-gloved hand, Jennifer felt suddenly and unexplainably safe. Even the crowd behind her seemed to settle down at the stranger’s sudden appearance.

  As the standoff continued, Jennifer’s eyes roamed over him again. A tan mackintosh with a brown leather collar reached almost to dusty, scuffed black snakeskin boots complete with spurs.

  A rodeo rider? she wondered silently. He wore a blue chamois shirt, the top three buttons undone, showing off his elegant tanned neck and the beginnings of a smooth chest. Black jeans clung to his body, revealing hard male strength, and she recognized the gold belt buckle for what it represented. Yeah. A rodeo rider.

  “Get your hands off me, chief!” Jay snarled as he tried to jerk his wrist free.

  Jennifer saw Tucker stiffen, his soft mouth pull into a grimace, and she felt more sorry for the boy than she could ever show. She knew Tucker would never accept her sympathy. He was too proud.

  She sighed softly and shook her head. “Jay, you’re such a jackass.”

  The stranger smiled, a soft upturning of his mouth. He shot her a sidelong glance. “A woman with backbone?”

  Seeing the two men together, she realized what a dandy Jay was compared to the plainly dressed stranger.

  Jay’s blond hair was curly and short. He was as fair as the stranger was dark, and he looked soft compared to this lean, tall man. Whereas Jay was stocky and heavyset, the stranger was cool, lean and sleek like a panther. Jay wore brand-new blue jeans that had never seen a day’s work and a flashy
red cowboy shirt with black piping. A gold bracelet sat on one wrist while the glint from a gold watch could be seen on the other. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  The only jewelry the stranger had on was a small gold hoop in his ear with a little dangling golden feather and a watch with a turquoise band.

  There was something so honest about his appearance, she thought. A hardworking man without vanity who dressed for comfort and ease of movement. No wolf in sheep’s clothing, just pure wolf.

  As for Jay, he had more brazenness than brains.

  Couldn’t Jay see the wild danger in this man? Couldn’t he feel the power emanating from him like the heat rising from the asphalt?

  “You want to call the sheriff, ma’am?” The soft husky drawl of the stranger’s voice was enticing, hypnotic. It flowed over her like warm honey.

  She noticed that he never took his eyes off Jay.

  “No. Let him go,” she finally responded, disgusted with Jay and his public display of temper.

  The stranger didn’t just let Jay go. He shoved him away from her.

  “Why don’t you go and pick on someone your own size, cowboy?” the stranger drawled as he squared his shoulders and placed his black-gloved hands on his hips. He slowly perused Jay, one hand moving to the stubble on his chin. “I reckon I’m too big and she’s too small.”

  The insult struck home and Jay puffed himself up like a peacock. “Why don’t you go to hell?” he said between clenched teeth.

  “I’ve already been there.”

  The smooth change of pitch in his voice caused Jennifer to wonder what the cryptic comment meant. It sounded as if he had more to say. She could almost hear him finish the sentence, And I’ve never gotten out. Well, after this confrontation he would be gone and she would never know. She surprised herself by wanting to know, and the thought suddenly saddened her.

  “Why don’t you mind your own business, chief?” Jay sneered the word as if it was distasteful to say. He stepped forward but halted at the imperceptible movement of the stranger’s body. He backed up, as though finally recognizing the danger he was in.

  “I’m making it my business, cowboy, so you better back off.”

  “Jay, come on,” Tucker said in a firm voice.

  “Who the hell do you think you are, coming into my town and telling me what to do?” He violently brushed off the young boy’s hand.

  Jennifer opened her mouth to tell Jay off, when the stranger put his hand on her arm. She was shocked at the heat of him even through the leather glove. “I don’t pay any mind to braying jackasses, ma’am.”

  She had to concentrate on not laughing, but her twitching lips gave her away.

  “Bitch,” Jay growled, lifting his hand to strike her.

  With breathtaking speed the stranger reached out and grabbed Jay’s fingers, bending them back. A tiny amount of pressure had Jay on his knees in the dust.

  With soft threat in his voice, the stranger said, “Apologize to the lady.”

  Jay’s eyes narrowed in pain and anger.

  “Now!” the stranger ordered.

  “Sorry,” Jay said tightly.

  The stranger let him go, then turned his gaze to Tucker. “You all right, kid?”

  Tucker’s head lifted and his nostrils flared. For a long moment he stared at the tall dark man with a look of wariness passing quickly through the chocolate-brown depths of his eyes, but Jennifer sensed he wasn’t afraid of the man. It puzzled her, but before she could even think about the quiet exchange, Jay once again caught her attention.

  He’d scrambled back to his feet. Eyeing the stranger with hatred, he rubbed his fingers, and then glared at Jennifer. “You’ll be sorry, Jennifer, you little bit—” He glanced back at the stranger who pulled his gaze from Tucker and lifted his dark eyebrows, just waiting.

  “I already am,” she murmured shakily, rubbing her wrist where Jay’s hold had made the skin tender.

  As if with a will of their own, her eyes lifted to the stranger’s and her blood seemed to slow and heat. The lethal quality she’d sensed in him hadn’t diminished at all. There was deep anger in this man, she thought. An anger that went down to the soles of his boots and suggested he would like nothing better than to rearrange Jay’s face.

  She also sensed that he was holding back because of her. He intrigued her. Why would a man obviously not a citizen of Silver Creek, Texas, stand up for her? No one else had come to her rescue because they were all afraid of Jay and his brothers. Clovis, who was twenty-seven and the second oldest, was vicious and mean. It was rumored he killed one of his own dogs when he brayed too loud one morning and wakened Clovis after a night of drunken brawling. Jackson, at twenty-four, liked to say obscene things to women for their sheer shock effect. Emmett, twenty-one, would do anything Jay said, even hold down the owner of the feed store while Jay punched him until he agreed to a lower price on feed. And there was talk that Stuart, the youngest at eighteen, had smashed a truck owner’s new vehicle just because it was better-looking than Emmett’s truck. The Butlers were men who thought they were above the law and terrorized anyone who got in their way.

  But not this man. He showed no fear of Jay at all. She had a feeling even if he knew about the dark rumors circulating about Jay, he still wouldn’t care.

  “Take a hike, cowboy,” the man said. The menace in his voice was unmistakable and Jennifer felt an unaccountable thanks for the act of kindness he was showing to a perfect stranger. She had no doubt that if he hadn’t stepped in, Jay would have slapped her.

  Jay gave her one more vicious look, a wealth of dark promise in his eyes. Grabbing Tucker by his upper arm, he stalked away.

  Jay’s departure seemed to cue the crowd that the excitement was over for the moment. Some of the onlookers began to leave.

  The stranger turned toward Jennifer and pushed the hat off his head to hang by the joined cord. Pulling off his gloves, he tucked them into his belt just like a rodeo rider and raked his hands through his straight dark hair.

  It gave Jennifer a moment to study his strong features, and she discovered that he was really easy on the eyes.

  Loner. The word came to her mind suddenly. Not only alone, but this man wanted to be alone. She realized how much of his solitude he was risking to defend her, and it struck a chord inside her. “Thank you for involving yourself in my problems, Mr....”

  “Rainwater. Corey.”

  “Jennifer Horn,” she said as she extended her hand. He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair and clasped her hand, gently, but firmly. Her pulse stumbled from the electrifying feel of his bare palm against hers, as if her hand had hit a live wire instead of warm callused flesh.

  But the electricity of his touch was nothing compared to the sheer shock effect of his eyes. Green eyes. Dark, fathomless and hot. Honest, straightforward eyes that could melt solid steel, see into the deep recesses of her soul and learn her most private secrets. Eyes a woman could sink into and get lost in. Yet she felt that in those deep glistening turquoise pools, she would find the shelter and warmth she’d been craving ever since she was stupid enough to marry that good-for-nothing, rodeo-riding, womanizing Sonny Braxton and allow him to foster a child.

  No way, Jennifer, she admonished herself silently. No way are you going to get mixed up with a man that looks this good, a man that looks as elusive as the wind. A loner who clearly wants to stay alone. So stop looking at him like that. She pulled her hand away as if burned, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He probably had women swooning at his feet all the time and was used to being stared at. Even though she told herself to stand firm, she couldn’t seem to stop the quick, fluttery feeling in her stomach.

  He was at least part Apache, she speculated, with his sharp, high cheekbones, his full sensuous mouth and strong firm chin. Long, straight, silky hair was parted on the side, blue-black and breath-stealingly gorgeous—a dead giveaway to the fact that he had Native American blood in him. A hint of a wild, untamed nature glinted in his astonishing ey
es. A warning?

  One she intended to heed.

  He canted his hip slightly in an arrogant display of male cockiness, indicating that he knew she was looking and he didn’t mind. In fact, she had the feeling that he welcomed her appraising eyes on him.

  Dangerous.

  She had never met a more blatantly sexy man since Sonny, and even he paled by comparison.

  “What brings you to Silver Creek?” she managed to ask, trying to conceal the evident wonder he evoked, in her.

  He didn’t answer, but strode away. He shucked the worn mackintosh and stowed it in the pocket of the saddlebag he had strapped to his gleaming motorcycle. She shouldn’t have, but she did notice the way his tight black jeans molded to his very nice backside.

  She must have been so caught up in her argument with Jay that she hadn’t even noticed the noise of the sleek motorcycle’s powerful engine.

  Even through the coating of dust, she could tell the bike was well taken care of. He’d probably put it together himself, she mused. He looked like the kind of man who was good with his hands.

  “Where’s the nearest hotel?” he asked with his back to her.

  Thank God, he couldn’t see her eyes. She took a deep breath. “No hotel. We’ve only got one motel and it’s at the end of town, but it’s really clean. Ellen Beaumont runs both the motel and the diner and she keeps everything spic and span. She even tries to dry the sheets outside if she can manage. We call her Mrs. Clean.”

  He chuckled softly without real mirth. “If it has a bed and a shower, I’ll be ecstatic. I’ve done my share of sleeping on the ground.”

  An unexpected catch of pain stabbed her heart at the disheartened tone of his voice. Hadn’t anyone ever shown him a little kindness? He seemed so alone and so sad. “Just keep going down this road.” She pointed down the main street of town when he turned around, leaning his backside against the seat of the motorcycle. “It’s next door to the diner.”