A man fighting his past. A woman fleeing hers. When fate throws them together they form an unlikely—and temporary—alliance. Soon real passion infuses their fake marriage and they begin to dream of more. But someone has other plans. Someone who would rather see them dead than happy.
Amanda Caruthers is a woman who doesn’t exist. Even as she hides from her violent ex-husband, she hopes her next alias will be her last. Burton Campbell is haunted by a string of failures, blaming himself for his sister’s murder. He secretly hopes his passion—teaching martial arts and women’s self defense—will redeem him from the guilt and pain of his past.
Fate brings them together at the health club where they work. As they teach side-by-side, Amanda slowly gives in to her growing attraction to Burton. Long dormant dreams of love and family take root. Yet even as she hopes to start a new life, her ex-husband is closing in. Desperate, Amanda adopts a new alias—faking a marriage certificate and posing as Burton’s wife.
Locked away in a honeymoon cottage, Amanda’s fears and Burton’s failures come to light, strengthening the bond of trust between them until they bring real passion to their fake marriage. But as the evil from the past comes to life again, trust and love may be the real victims unless Amanda and Burton find the courage to face and conquer their deepest nightmares.
Excerpt
"I don't approve of you, Mr. Campbell, nor do I approve of your proposal. From what I can see, it's nothing but a thinly veiled excuse for propagating violent behavior. If it were up to me, I'd send you on your way."
Burton Campbell resisted the urge to stalk over to the desk and lean down until he was face to face with the small, serious-eyed woman behind it. Instead, he studied her from where he stood in the middle of the room. Except for her purple and gold warm-up suit and the pieces of exercise equipment scattered about the office, she might have passed for a corporate executive addressing a junior account manager. Jet-black hair, cropped into a short, no-nonsense style framed a pale face, devoid of softness. Nothing, not even a framed photo on the desk, hinted at the woman beneath the image.
He waited, his attention focused on her, comfortable in the silence. She shifted in her chair and unconsciously tapped her pen in an uneven rhythm on the polished desk surface. Still, he waited. A hint of pink touched her cheeks, and her eyes, wide and golden brown, stared at a spot just above his left shoulder. Her jaw clenched, as if maintaining her poise was an effort. She could have been beautiful, if she wasn't trying so hard to be unapproachable.
More seconds ticked by.
"Unfortunately, the decision is not up to me. The Board of Directors thinks your program has merit." She consulted her planning calendar, once again professional and in control. "I'll meet with you next Tuesday to discuss the schedule, your equipment needs, and your duties as a staff member. You have three months to establish your martial arts fitness program. After the probationary period, the board will decide whether to make it a regular offering or not. Any questions?"
He had plenty of questions, starting with why the tiny, dark haired dictator, correction, director, of the health club had taken an instant dislike to him based on nothing more than a fitness plan and a resume. But his questions could wait. For now, he had what he wanted.
Located in the suburb of Bentonville, about an hour west of Chicago, the Richard Hospital Health and Fitness Center was renowned for its innovative programs. Showcasing his safety and self-defense classes there was worth whatever sacrifices he had to make.
"No, Ms. Caruthers, I don't have any questions. Yet." He deliberately made his voice intimate and warm, trailing his eyes down her body as he spoke. Her composure cracked under his scrutiny and she inched her chair across the floor ever so slightly, putting distance between them. He suppressed a smile at her nervous gesture. Maybe there was a woman behind the mask after all. The silence was shorter this time.
"I'm curious, Mr. Campbell. What makes a man like you want to teach at a health club for a living?"
"A man like me?"
She looked flustered, but continued the verbal thrusts, protecting her position of authority. "For one thing, you're older than most of
my instructors. I would think a reasonably mature, motivated man would want a more stable career." She swept an assessing gaze over him, probing for something. "Let's just say this job doesn't pay much."
"I'm not in it for the money." He let the words hang between them for a moment. "As it happens, my job at the pharmacy provides me with an excellent living. Teaching martial arts isn't a job; it's more like a calling. Everyone needs something to be passionate about. Don't you agree?"
"I never thought about it, really. I just…."
A glimpse of something softer, more real than he'd seen from her yet, peeked out from behind a crack in her facade.
"What are you passionate about, Amanda?" He kept his voice soft and low, deliberately using her first name, trying to coax a bit more warmth from her. He took a small step forward, like a man approaching a shy puppy.
The minute he moved, she stood and strode toward him, her brisk mask of efficiency firmly in place.
"I think we've covered everything we need to for now, so I'll bid you good day." She offered him a surprisingly firm handshake. "If you need to discuss anything before Tuesday, contact my secretary for an appointment."
I'm the boss, and don't you dare forget it. Her rigid posture and the look of cool dismissal in her eyes conveyed her meaning as clearly as if she'd spoken the words out loud. He allowed himself to be edged to the door, giving no resistance when she ushered him out.
Alone in the hallway, he finally smiled. She was a contradiction, something fragile hiding behind a tough, brittle exterior. He knew from experience how easily a shield like that could shatter, and how deadly the consequences could be. Yes, Amanda was exactly the kind of woman who needed what he had to offer. If he could break through her bravado, he could help her find real strength, courage to face whatever fears she kept at bay with her sharp tongue and stiff demeanor. If he could convince Amanda, he could convince anyone.
From the window flanking the door he watched her, dwarfed by her massive desk, scratching notes on his proposal. A frown etched her otherwise delicate features. Poor Amanda Caruthers. She thought she was totally in control of her situation and of him. For her own sake, before the next three months passed, he would teach her how very wrong she was.
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