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“I’m not pretending to care about you because I’m concerned about you. I’m concerned because I care.”

Arden wanted to believe him but was afraid to trust him, afraid to trust her own feelings for Shaun. There were still things she didn’t want Shaun to know. Things she might never be ready to tell him.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out that the fire in your apartment was deliberately set? Did you think I wouldn’t connect this arson to the last letter you received?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—I don’t—” She remembered his reaction after the fire: his fear and concern, and the way he’d made love to her, slowly and tenderly, until she felt as if she were really cherished. “I’m not used to having people worry about me.”

“Then you’ll have to get used to it,” Shaun said. “Because I’m not going away.”

Dear Reader,

Our exciting month of May begins with another of bestselling author and reader favorite Fiona Brand’s Australian Alpha heroes. In Gabriel West: Still the One, we learn that former agent Gabriel West and his ex-wife have spent their years apart wishing they were back together again. And their wish is about to come true, but only because Tyler needs protection from whoever is trying to kill her—and Gabriel is just the man for the job.

Marie Ferrarella’s crossline continuity, THE MOM SQUAD, continues, and this month it’s Intimate Moments’ turn. In The Baby Mission, a pregnant special agent and her partner develop an interest in each other that extends beyond police matters. Kylie Brant goes on with THE TREMAINE TRADITION with Entrapment, in which wickedly handsome Sam Tremaine needs the heroine to use the less-than-savory parts of her past to help him capture an international criminal. Marilyn Tracy offers another story set on her Rancho Milagro, or Ranch of Miracles, with At Close Range, featuring a man scarred—inside and out—and the lovely rancher who can help heal him. And in Vickie Taylor’s The Last Honorable Man, a mother-to-be seeks protection from the man she’d been taught to view as the enemy—and finds a brand-new life for herself and her child in the process. In addition, Brenda Harlan makes her debut with McIver’s Mission, in which a beautiful attorney who’s spent her life protecting families now finds that she is in danger—and the handsome man who’s designated himself as her guardian poses the greatest threat of all.

Enjoy! And be sure to come back next month for more of the best romantic reading around, right here in Intimate Moments.

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

McIver’s Mission
Brenda Harlen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BRENDA HARLEN

grew up in a small town, surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as an attorney (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up the “real” job to be a mom and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book—an RWA Golden Heart Winner—to Silhouette.

Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (“too many books,” according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with “real” people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at brendaharlen@yahoo.com or by snail mail c/o Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279.

This book is for Neill,

my husband and my hero,

for always believing.

And for Connor and Ryan,

heroes-in-training,

for giving me a reason to follow my dreams.

With thanks to:

Sheryl Davis, Sharon May and Kate Weichelt,

for their critiquing expertise

and priceless friendship;

Tom Torrance,

for teaching me more about writing romance

than I thought a man ever could;

and Susan Litman,

for loving this story enough to buy it.

Contents

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

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

Laid to rest.

The words taunted Arden Doherty with the illusion of comfort, the suggestion of peace. There had been little peace in the lives of Denise and Brian Hemingway, even less in the way their lives had been taken from them. Abruptly. Tragically. Unnecessarily.

Arden turned away from the gathering. Her absence wouldn’t be noticed by the small crowd of mourners who’d come to say goodbye. She wasn’t family; she hadn’t been a friend. There was no reason to stay any longer, nothing she could do now.

Still, she glanced back one more time, not sure why she felt compelled to take that final look. She knew she’d never forget the image of those two glossy wood coffins, side by side—one less than four feet in length—gleaming in the late-September sun.

Just as she’d never forget that she was responsible for them being there.

Arden walked briskly, as if she might outdistance her thoughts, her grief, her guilt. She paused outside the cemetery gates to put on her sunglasses. The dark lenses cut the bright glare of the afternoon sun and masked the tears that burned behind her eyes. She desperately tried to switch mental gears, to think of something, anything but the mother and son who would soon be buried.

She turned into Woodfield Park, her steps slowing as the top of the courthouse came into view: thick stone walls; gleaming, multifaceted windows; towering white pillars. More impressive to Arden than the architecture of the building was what went on inside. The law was a complicated piece of machinery that churned tirelessly, if not always successfully.

The building was a visible symbol of the unending fight for truth and justice. Arden had dedicated her life to that same fight, and her own office was just down the street, where she could look out her window and see the peaked roof of the courthouse. Sometimes that glimpse was all she needed to remember why she’d become a family law attorney: to fight for the women and children who couldn’t fight for themselves.

Today, she wasn’t feeling very inspired, and she wasn’t ready to go back to the office. Not yet. She needed a few minutes by herself to grieve, to acknowledge the helplessness that now seemed so overwhelming. She found a vacant bench nestled in the shelter of towering oak trees and settled against the wooden slats, confident that she was hidden from the pedestrian traffic on the path by the massive stone fountain. Here, if not solace, she could at least have solitude.

She tilted her head to look up at the sky, staring at the cloudless expanse that, even through the shade of her sunglasses, was so gloriously blue it almost hurt her eyes. The trees had started to change color, flaunting shades of gold and russet and red. Birds chattered somewhere overhead, although it wouldn’t be long before most of them headed south to escape the cold Pennsylvania winter.

It was a beautiful day. Or it would have been if she could have forgotten, for even half a minute, about the scene she’d walked away from in the cemetery. And the part she’d played in putting the mother and son there.

She felt a tear spill onto her cheek, swiped at it impatiently. She’d learned a long time ago that tears were futile, crying a sign of weakness. But right now she couldn’t help feeling helpless, ineffectual.

“Arden?”

She stiffened at the sound of the familiar voice. The last thing she wanted right now was company. Especially Shaun McIver’s company. She ignored him, hoped he’d keep walking.

Of course, he didn’t. Anyone else would have respected her need for privacy, but not Shaun. Arden had met him eight years earlier when her cousin had married Shaun’s brother the first time. After a five-year separation Nikki and Colin had recently remarried, and Arden had danced with Shaun at the wedding.

It had been an obligatory dance between the maid of honor and best man, but it had opened the door to feelings Arden had buried long ago, introduced her to desires she preferred to ignore. Uncomfortable with the emotions he stirred inside her, Arden had resolved to stay away from him. But Shaun was a lawyer, too, which meant that she had occasion to cross paths with him both personally and professionally.

“Please, go away.” Her tone wasn’t as firm as she’d wanted, the words not quite steady.

He ignored her request and lowered himself onto the bench beside her. No doubt Shaun believed he had the right—maybe even an obligation—to intrude on her pain.

Arden braced for the questions, prepared to deflect any attempts at idle conversation. But he didn’t say anything at all. He just slipped his arm across her shoulders and drew her close to the warm strength of his body.

The quiet compassion, the wordless understanding, unraveled her. She felt another tear slip out, track slowly down her cheek. Then another. Arden pulled off her sunglasses, brushed away the moisture with her fingertips. She drew in a deep breath, fought for control of her emotions. She tried to pull back, to pull herself together, but Shaun didn’t release her.

“Just let it go,” he said.

And she did. She wasn’t strong enough to hold back the tears any longer, and they slid down her cheeks. Tears of regret, despair, guilt. Helpless to stop the flow, she turned her face into the soft fabric of his shirt and sobbed quietly.

Shaun rubbed his palm over her back, soothing her as a mother would soothe a child—as Denise Hemingway might have once soothed four-year-old Brian. Arden’s tears flowed faster, and still Shaun continued to hold her. She didn’t know how long he sat with her, how long she cried. Eventually her sobs subsided into hiccups, her tears dried. Still, her throat was raw, her eyes burned, her gut ached with the anguish and futility of loss.

She felt something soft pressed into her hand and focused her bleary eyes on it.

A handkerchief?

It almost made her smile. She didn’t think anyone carried them anymore. She should have known that Shaun would. She pulled away from him and unfolded the pressed square of white linen to wipe her eyes, blow her nose.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Arden shook her head. “No.”

Maybe he thought she owed him some kind of explanation after such an outburst, but she hadn’t asked him to intrude on her grief. She wasn’t used to leaning on anyone other than herself. That she’d needed someone, and that he’d been there for her, both surprised and irritated her. And she was just waiting for him to pry, to demand, so she’d have a reason to be annoyed.

But he didn’t pry. He didn’t demand. Instead he tipped her chin up and looked at her with genuine concern and compassion in the depths of his dark green eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”

She drew a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

Shaun glanced at his watch, and she hoped he had somewhere else he needed to be. She didn’t like to seem ungrateful, but she’d cried all the tears she had in her, and now she just wanted a few minutes to herself to gather her thoughts. Then she would head back to the office and bury herself in any one of a dozen cases that needed her immediate attention.

“Do you want to grab some dinner?” he asked.

Arden frowned. “With you?”

One side of his mouth curved in a wry smile, and she felt a jolt of something deep inside her. Something she didn’t understand and wasn’t prepared to acknowledge.

“Yes, with me,” he said.

“I don’t think so.” She was baffled by the invitation and wondered if all that crying had somehow short-circuited her brain.

“Why not?” he asked in the same casual tone.

Her frown deepened. Why was he pursuing this? She couldn’t ever remember him seeking out her company. “Because I have to get back to the office.”

“You’re not going to get any work done tonight.”

“Despite the outburst,” she said, irritated by his confident assertion, “I didn’t have a complete mental breakdown.”

“You need to get your mind off what’s bothering you.”

“And having dinner with you is going to do that?” she asked skeptically.

“It might.”

“Look, I appreciate the offer. And I appreciate the shoulder. But I don’t have time—”

“Dinner with me,” Shaun interrupted without raising his voice, “or I’ll call Nikki.”

Arden lifted one eyebrow, silently communicating her displeasure that he’d drag her cousin into this. “Why would you call Nikki?”

“Because I’m concerned about you. You’re upset about something, and I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“I have things I need to do.”

He pulled a cell phone out of his jacket pocket and held his thumb poised over the keypad. “She’s on speed dial.”

Arden sighed. The last thing she wanted was her cousin to be worrying about and fussing over her. “I want Mexican.”

“Mexican it is.” He dropped the phone back in his pocket.

Shaun sat across from Arden at a scarred wooden table, studying her as she studied the menu, wondering how they’d ended up here together. His invitation had been as much a shock to himself as it had been to her. But he couldn’t leave her alone when she was obviously distraught about something.

Her nickname around the courthouse was “ice princess,” and everything he knew about her confirmed that she’d earned that designation. Not that he’d ever referred to her as such. Not out loud, anyway. Although it seemed to him more of a compliment than an insult—a tribute to her ability to remain detached and professional as she represented her clients.

There’d been nothing cool or detached about the woman who’d cried in his arms. She’d curled into him, her body soft and fragrant and completely feminine. She’d been vulnerable, almost fragile, her sobs wrenched from somewhere deep inside. As he’d held her, the outpouring of grief had squeezed his own heart.

He frowned, disturbed by this thought. He didn’t want to have warm, tender feelings toward Arden. He didn’t want to have any feelings for Arden. He respected her as a professional acquaintance, he appreciated her as a woman, but he had no personal interest. Besides, she was practically family.

Okay, so she wasn’t related to him in a way that would make any sexual interest illegal or immoral. But the connection was close enough that he’d have to be a complete idiot to risk a romantic interlude. If it ended badly, it would be awkward for both of them on family occasions.

Besides, he had his own reputation as a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. It was as inappropriate as he now knew Arden’s to be, but it didn’t bother him. The reputation was an effective deterrent to all the marriage-minded women who might otherwise set their sights in his direction. He hadn’t had a serious relationship since Jenna had ended their engagement six years earlier, and he wasn’t in the market for one now.

The appearance of the waiter brought his attention back to the present. Arden still had her nose buried in the menu, although he could tell by the distant look in her deep brown eyes that her thoughts were elsewhere. He reached across the table to pluck the menu out of her hand and return it to the waiter.

“Why don’t we start with the deluxe beef nachos, followed by chicken fajitas?” he suggested.

“That’s fine,” she agreed.

The waiter scribbled down the order.

“And a couple of Corona,” Shaun added.

The waiter returned almost immediately with two bottles topped with wedges of lime. Shaun picked up his beer and tapped it against hers.

“To better tomorrows,” he said.

She forced a smile, but the sadness continued to lurk in her eyes. “I don’t think I thanked you.”

“I got the impression you would’ve preferred to be left alone.”

“I would have,” she admitted. “I don’t like to fall apart. I like it even less when there are witnesses.”

“There’s no shame in needing someone to lean on every once in a while.”

She tipped the bottle to her lips and sipped. “When was the last time you soaked someone’s shirt with your tears?”

He sat back, considering. “I can’t remember.”

“Yeah,” she said dryly. “That’s what I thought.”

“Sometimes it’s harder to let go than it is to hold it in,” he told her, knowing that it was true for Arden.

What had happened to her that she felt compelled to bury her feelings so deep? Why was she always so determined to be strong and independent? And why was he so affected by the hint of vulnerability in the depths of those beautiful eyes?

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. She jolted, and the furrow on her brow deepened. He found he enjoyed seeing the cool and controlled Arden Doherty flustered. And he found it quite interesting that his touch—even something as casual as his hand on hers—seemed to fluster her.

She tugged her hand away, but not before he noticed the way her pulse had skipped, then raced. It made him wonder how she might react if he ever really touched her. And it forced him to admit that he wanted to really touch her.

He shook off the thought, took a mental step in retreat. Offering to share a meal with a woman wasn’t analogous to feeling an attraction. He did not want to touch Arden. He wasn’t looking for any kind of involvement.

And if being here with her had him contemplating something more than dinner, it was just that he’d obviously been too long without a woman in his life. Besides, contemplating was steps away from acting, and he had no intention of making any kind of move on Arden Doherty.

Still, he was relieved when the waiter returned with a heaping platter of nachos.

Arden’s stomach grumbled; Shaun grinned.

“I missed lunch today,” she admitted, as she dipped a nacho chip laden with spicy beef, cheese, and jalapeños into the dish of sour cream. “I was tied up in court all morning and then…I had…somewhere else I had to go.”

Her evasive comment intrigued him. “Somewhere else” was obviously where she’d been before he’d found her in the park. It shouldn’t matter to him; he shouldn’t care where she’d been or what had upset her.

He decided to redirect the conversation. “I can’t believe we’ve never had dinner together before.”

“We’ve had dinner together plenty of times.”

“With Nikki and Colin,” he agreed. “Never just the two of us.”

“Why would we?”

He shrugged. “We’re colleagues, of sorts. We’re family, almost. It just seems strange that we’ve never shared a meal.”

“We wouldn’t be doing so now if you hadn’t blackmailed me,” Arden reminded him.

He grinned. “I must admit, it’s a novel approach for me with a woman.”

Her lips twitched in a reluctant smile, and Shaun’s breath caught. He’d always known she was beautiful. Almost too beautiful. It was an observation, he assured himself, not an attraction. Yet, he couldn’t discount the immediate physical response of his body when those sensual lips curved, parted slightly. He wanted to touch his mouth to hers, just once, to know if she tasted as sweet as the promise of those lips.

“There’s no need to waste your charm on me,” Arden said.

“Why do you think it would be wasted?”

“We both know I’m only here with you because you thought I’d fall apart again if you left me alone.”

“I was concerned about you. I am concerned,” he admitted.

“Don’t be.”

It was her tone as much as the words that informed him the ice princess was back. Or so she wanted him to believe. But why? What had happened to make her so distrustful, so wary?

He shook off the thought. Whatever it was, it was her problem. She’d said as much herself. He didn’t need to worry about Arden Doherty, and he didn’t need any complications in his own life right now.

As she shared dinner and conversation with Shaun, Arden found herself beginning to relax. She’d wanted to be annoyed with him for having forced the situation. She didn’t like being coerced into anything. But she was also grateful. She had planned to go back to work, but she knew that by six o’clock the office would be empty. There would be no one with whom to share meaningless conversation, nothing to distract her from thinking about Denise and Brian, wondering if there was something more she could have done, something that might have changed the way things had turned out.

She’d thought she wanted to be alone, but what she really wanted—what she needed—was a diversion.

Shaun McIver was one hell of a diversion.

He was certainly a pleasure to look at: more than six feet of well-honed male with sun-kissed golden highlights in his dark blond hair. His face was angular, with slashing cheekbones and a slight dimple in his square chin. But it was his eyes that got to her. They were a dark mossy green with amber flecks that could take her breath away if she let them.

Which she didn’t. He might be a beautiful specimen of masculinity, but she wasn’t interested. Not in Shaun McIver, not in any other man. She’d learned a long time ago that opening herself up to love meant opening herself up to heartache. Her mother, her stepfather, her almost-fiancé—everyone who’d ever claimed to love her had hurt her. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Still, she had no moral objection to sharing a meal with Shaun, especially when the food was Mexican and she was starving.

By the time they left the restaurant after dinner, the temperature outside had dropped several degrees. Arden shivered, and Shaun slipped an arm over her shoulders. She shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from the chill in the air.

Arden frowned. She didn’t understand her reaction to him. Surely she didn’t have any romantic feelings for Shaun—that was too ridiculous to consider. Maybe it had just been too long since she’d been with a man. Too long since she’d even wanted to be. In the past several years, she hadn’t met anyone who understood the importance of her career. Even the lawyers she’d dated thought her commitment bordered on obsession. And there were times, even she had to admit, when it did. When it had to. Because there were times when she was the last hope for the abused women and children who came to her for help.

Shaun turned automatically in the direction of Arden’s apartment building. She’d forgotten that he knew where she lived, that he’d been drafted by Nikki to help Arden move several months earlier.

“You don’t have to walk me home,” she protested.

“What would Nikki say if I didn’t see you safely to your door?”

Arden shrugged but didn’t bother to respond as they headed down the street. They walked in companionable silence, listening to the muted sounds of the evening. Fairweather was hardly a booming metropolis at the best of times, and by eight o’clock on a Friday evening, this part of the downtown core was pretty much asleep. A few streets over, people would be filtering in to the bars and dance clubs, but here everything was quiet. Her apartment, just a few blocks ahead, would be quieter still.

“I really should have gone back to the office,” Arden said, wondering if she should do so now.

“It’s Friday night,” Shaun reminded her. “If it’s that important, it will be there tomorrow.”

She nodded. He was right, but she couldn’t help thinking that work might help keep her mind occupied, help her push the events of the day aside—at least for a while. Shaun’s company had provided a reprieve, as he’d promised, but she knew that the haunting memories would come back as soon as he was gone.

She turned up the walk to the front door of her building, his arm dropping from her shoulders as she reached in her pocket for the key. “I can find my way from here.”

“Is that a not-so-polite way of saying good-night?”

“I thought it was polite,” she said.

He smiled, and her heart stuttered. She told herself the reaction was a result of her exhaustion and not indicative of any attraction. She almost believed it.

“It would be more polite to invite me inside for a cup of tea,” he said.

“I don’t have any tea.”

“Coffee, then.”

She didn’t really want to be alone, but she didn’t understand why he wanted to spend any more time with her. “Fine. Would you like to come up for a cup of coffee?”

His smile widened; her pulse accelerated. “That would be great.”

The old, converted home that housed her apartment didn’t have the luxury of elevators, so she led the way through the small lobby to the stairs. On the second-floor landing, they passed Greta Dempsey, one of Arden’s neighbors, with Rocky, Greta’s toy poodle. The flamboyant Greta was dressed for an evening in front of the television in a fuchsia satin robe with lime-green slippers on her feet and curlers in her hair. Rocky had fuchsia bows on both of his ears. After exchanging greetings, Mrs. Dempsey looked Shaun up and down, then grinned at Arden and indicated her approval with a thumbs-up.

Wishing Mrs. Dempsey a good evening, Arden hurried up the last flight of stairs to her third-floor apartment, grateful that the dim lighting in the hallway wouldn’t reveal the flush that infused her cheeks.

She unlocked the door of her apartment and stepped inside, her hand halting in mid-air by the light switch as her gaze landed on the envelope on the hardwood floor.

And the knot in her belly that had only started to loosen, tightened again.