"Kimberly Logan makes a dazzling debut with A Kiss in the Dark! Kiss is a tender, sizzling romance topped with a delicious dollop of suspense. I can't wait to read more from this talented author!" Bestselling author Teresa Medeiros

"Logan’s debut is a captivating story with unforgettable characters...Look out for more from a bright new talent." Romantic Times Magazine

EXCERPT:

Surfacing from what seemed to him to be the darkest bowels of hell, Tristan became aware of the feel of hands gripping his arms, a voice speaking to him in garbled sentences that made no sense. Taunted by images of sinister dark eyes and a scarred face, he lashed out, his one thought to bring his ordeal to an end.

Twisting about at the same time as he lunged forward, he caught the wrists of the person who held him and flipped them onto the bed beneath him, pinning the culprit to the mattress with the weight of his body.

“Tristan, please! It’s me!”

The frantic words suddenly registered, and he fought back the haze that clouded his head to find himself staring down at a terrified Deirdre.

Sucking in a stunned breath, he reeled back, releasing her wrists as if burned. “God, Deirdre. Are you all right?”

“Y-yes. I think so.”

She didn’t sound at all certain, and Tristan felt his face heat with shame before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, putting his back to her. “I swear I didn’t know it was you. I was...”

“Having a nightmare?” He felt the mattress shift behind him, and a second later tentative fingers trailed down his spine in a caress that had goosebumps breaking out across the surface of his flesh. “I know. It’s the reason I came in here. I heard you.”

He winced. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to disturb your rest.”

“You didn’t. I hadn’t even gone to bed.” There was a heartbeat of silence, then, “You called out Emily’s name. Were you dreaming about her?”

The last thing he wanted to do was relive the awful visions that had plagued his sleep. But something about her voice, so quiet and understanding, invited him to confide in her, to share his burden, and he couldn’t seem to resist.

“I was back in the alleyway in Tothill Fields,” he said gruffly, reaching up to run a shaking hand through the sweat-dampened strands of his hair. “With my mother and the bastard who murdered her. He was laughing, holding a knife to her throat and daring me to try to save her.”

He swallowed in a convulsive movement. “I wanted to run to her, to jerk the knife away from that devil and plunge it into his gut, but it was like I was paralyzed. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t move. The next thing I knew, I was looking down at her body on the ground, her lifeless eyes staring up at me.” Pausing, he bowed his head before continuing as if the words were being torn from him. “Then her face turned into Emily’s.”

“Oh, Tristan.” To his shock, slender arms suddenly wrapped around him from behind. He went still, his lungs seizing as he felt her lay her satin-smooth cheek against the wide expanse of his back. “I’m so sorry.”

It felt so good to have her touching him, comforting him. Cautiously lifting a hand, he covered hers where it rested on his chest and pressed it against his racing heart.

“All I can think about when I lay down at night is her. Wondering whether she’s cold or hungry or afraid. Wondering whether Barnaby Flynt has her.” He closed his eyes against a wave of pain. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her, Deirdre.”

“You won’t.” As she spoke, her warm breath fanned against his shoulder blade, a feather-light gust of air that had his anatomy reacting in a predictable male fashion despite the best of intentions. He was very much aware that aside from the blanket twined strategically about his hips, he was completely, utterly naked. A fact that Deirdre hadn’t yet noticed.

“You’re not alone, Tristan,” she was saying, “and we’ll find Emily together. I know we will.”

He released his breath in a shaky exhalation. She sounded so sure, and damned if a part of him didn’t believe her. Why was it that he couldn’t seem to keep this woman at a distance? Every time he succeeded in pushing her away, she somehow managed to tear down his defenses and get close to him again. All with very little effort.

After what he had revealed to her earlier, he had to admit he’d been feeling particularly vulnerable where she was concerned. Never before had he come so close to spilling out all of his most secret fears. Once they’d returned to her townhouse, he’d excused himself and escaped to his chamber to brood in solitude, needing some time apart from her to get himself back under control.

But control was the last thing on his mind right now. In fact, he was beginning to think it had all but abandoned him for good.

Extricating himself from her arms, he turned to look back at her. The instant he did, he realized it had been a mistake. Gazing up at him with her soft, red curls tumbling down around her shoulders and her willowy curves subtly outlined by her lacy white nightgown, she was exquisite. The picture of temptation.

He gritted his teeth against a surge of lust and hitched the covers farther up on his hips, trying desperately to think of a way to get her out of his reach before it was too late.

“I appreciate your assistance, Deirdre, but I’m fine now, and I believe it’s time for you to go back to your room.”

She must have sensed something from his tone, for she stiffened, her brow lowering. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you. For heaven’s sake, Tristan, you’re practically growling at me. Now, what is it?”

That did it. Lunging to his feet, he whirled to face her, making no attempt to hide his burgeoning erection beneath the drape of the sheet.

“All right. You want to know what’s wrong? The truth is, if you stay in this room for even one minute longer, I’m afraid I’m going to have to kiss you again. And this time I can guarantee I won’t stop at a kiss.”

Her eyes rounded, her jaw dropping as she stared at the glaring evidence of his arousal. One hand fluttering to her throat, she sat as if stupefied.

The silence stretched out between them for what seemed like an eternity. When she finally spoke, her words were barely audible, but Tristan heard them as clearly as a shout. “Maybe I won’t want you to.”

He knew what she was saying. He knew, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to hope it might be true. The urge to sweep her up and lose himself in her, to forget all of his worries about his sister while he plunged into her silken body was very strong. But he had to be certain it was what she wanted, too.

Striding forward, he caught her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his eyes, willing her to be honest with him. “Are you sure, Deirdre?” he prompted huskily. “Be very, very sure.”

She let out a shuddering sigh—-and slowly nodded. “I’m more sure than I’ve ever been of anything in my life.”

He wanted her too much to question her decision any further. Without giving her a chance to change her mind, he leaned forward and captured her mouth with his own.

* * * * *

FOREIGN EDITIONS:

         
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