Kylie Brant  
falling hard and fast


The Sullivan Brothers

September 1999
Silhouette Intimate Moments

ISBN: 0373079591

When shadows fell across the sultry streets of Charity, Louisiana, the usually laid-back sheriff was too restless for sleep. Cage Gauthier had an unresolved murder on his hands--and a beguiling Yankee gal on his mind. But Zoey Prescott seemed as oblivious to the danger stalking this steamy Southern town as she was too Cage's smoldering desire...

Zoey wasn't about to run scared--not from Cage's heated gaze, and not from the killer they were trailing. Still, she kept a safe distance from the slow talking, quick thinking lawman...until one steamy night when the heady mix of passion and peril sparked a seduction she could no longer deny--or resist....

Finalist in the Holt Medallion Contest
Finalist in the Write Touch: Reader's Awards
Finalist in the Golden Quill Contest
Romantic Times magazine Top Pick


Read an Excerpt

"Fern thinks she knows who killed Janice Reilly," Zoey said.

"Does she?" Cage picked up his plate and stacked it on hers with a clatter, reminding her that her headache hadn't completely abated. She watched with more interest than she wanted to admit to see what he'd do next. A man who could cook a decent breakfast was a rarity. One who would do the dishes afterward was a saint.

She smirked when he piled all the dirty dishes in the sink. It appeared she wouldn't have to worry about having him canonized. She doubted he'd meet those pesky Vatican criteria, anyway. "Aren't you interested in Fern's theory?"

He sauntered back with a wet dish cloth to scrub the table. "Nope."

Astonished, she stared at him. "Why not?"

"Because Fern Sykes is a harmless old woman who rarely bothers a soul. And she believes that Elvis is alive and well and raising mutant kangaroos in Australia. There's not a conspiracy theory that she doesn't subscribe to, not a wacky notion that she doesn't embrace." He walked back to the sink and hung up the wet cloth. "She's called my office six times this year alone to report UFO sightings. In her case, even an eye witness account of the murder would be suspect. She's hardly a reliable source."

"You're not even going to check it out?"

He walked toward her, propped his palms on the table in front of her and leaned forward. "Zoey." His voice was gentle. "You stick to writing the mysteries, and let me concentrate on solving this one, okay?"

She lifted her chin to a regal angle. "Fine. Who's stopping you?"

"You are." He watched awareness flash into her eyes, followed by wariness. Good. She'd be wise to feel both. "I've got to tell you my concentration hasn't been the same since you came to Charity."

There was a smart retort on the tip of her tongue. Her gaze met his and the words slid down her throat. Gray eyes should be cold, impersonal. They shouldn't be capable of such warmth, such promise.

“'Course," he mused, his gaze tracing her brows, her lips, "It didn't help my concentration any to lie next to you all night. Listening to the soft sound of your breathing. Watching your face while you slept."

She stared at him transfixed, hypnotized by that low voice.

"All that in-your-face toughness of yours disappears when you're sleeping, did you know that?" His voice was husky, the finger he trailed down her cheek feather light. "I'm not the kind of man to spend a lot of time thinking about any one woman, but damned if I can figure a way to get you off of my mind.

"If you want a mystery to solve, Zoey, maybe you can start with that one."


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Kylie Brant