IN THE ARMS OF DANGER by Jaydyn Chelcee

Summary

Every woman needs a little danger in her life, but what's perilous about a wildlife shoot in the beautiful Montana wilderness? Armed with only a camera, Lacey Weston treks through the rough terrain and captures more on film than she bargains for-the murder of another young woman.

Fearing for her life, Lacey flees the scene and stumbles straight into the path of a man who strongly resembles the murderer. Sheriff Danger Blackstone, with his piercing gray eyes and rugged physique, could be the man in her undeveloped pictures.

With nowhere else to run and hide, Lacey must decide if she dares to trust her life to the only person who can protect her, one whose apparent grudge against Anglo females makes him less than approachable-the very man she suspects of murder.

This suspenseful romance-packed with action, hard-bodied cowboys and long, hot nights-gives a whole new meaning to the Wild West.

Excerpt

"Don't. There's no way in hell you can get by me. No way in hell I'll let you. Give it up, little cat, because if you don't, I'm going to handcuff you to that chair behind you."

Lacey lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. She drew a deep breath and started toward him. He was moving out of her way or else. Only problem-she didn't know what the 'or else' would be.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. His nostrils flared. "Come and get it, sweetheart," he said quietly. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

She noted the slight tensing of his body. Oh, boy. He was just waiting for her to make the ultimate mistake of attacking him again. Her self-protective instincts kicked in. She halted and backed up a step. "I believe you, sugar."

He looked at her sharply. Annoyance leapt to his eyes. She had the disconcerting feeling he purely hated her being here. She fought a smile. Mr. Tall, Dark and Studly would rue the day he ever tangled with Lacey Weston, she guaran-damn-teed-it.

Hands fisted on her hips, Lacey flung back her head in challenge. "Well, sugar, we seem to have a teeny little problem here. A stalemate." A dark brow arched.

"The way I see it, I want through the door you're standing in front of, and you obviously aren't happy with the idea." She grinned. "I believe what we have here, is what you cowboys deem a 'Mexican stand-off'."

The predatory gleam in his eyes darkened. A wicked grin split his lips. He folded his arms across his mountainous chest and cocked one hip against the doorframe. "Nah. What we have here, sugar," he drawled in mock imitation of her Southern accent, "is Custer's Last Stand, and I'm Chief Sitting Bull." He moved toward her with a slow, lethal walk. "Guess who won that battle, bright eyes? Sheath your claws little cat, because this is another battle where the pale-face loses."
 

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