Instinctive Male

“There’s always that between us, isn’t there?” Mikhail asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He was standing too close, and whatever pulsed hot and alive between them burned Ellie’s skin. Her senses tingled. “If you weren’t so afraid—”

The world stilled around them. “Of what am I afraid?” he asked very slowly.

“You’re afraid to get involved. Anyone can see that.”

“Can they?” he asked darkly, studying her with that close, burning intensity that seemed to make the sand shiver beneath her shoes. The waves seemed to slow and stop, the fog stilling and intimate, and Ellie could only hear the sound of her quickening heartbeat.

Then, with a rough, reluctant sigh, he tugged her to him and took her mouth with enough heat to make her forget everything but taking as he was taking….

Everything that she had sensed hidden beneath Mikhail’s cold exterior was just beneath the surface, hot and real, and it was hers at last.

“So now it has begun,” he whispered.

Dear Reader,

Spring into the new season with six fresh passionate, powerful and provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire.

Experience first love with a young nurse and the arrogant surgeon who stole her innocence, in
USA TODAY
bestselling author Elizabeth Bevarly’s
Taming the Beastly MD
(#1501), the latest title in the riveting DYNASTIES: THE BARONES continuity series. Another
USA TODAY
bestselling author, Cait London, offers a second title in her HEARTBREAKERS miniseries—
Instinctive Male
(#1502) is the story of a vulnerable heiress who finds love in the arms of an autocratic tycoon.

And don’t miss RITA
^®
Award winner Marie Ferrarella’s
A Bachelor and a Baby
(#1503), the second book of Silhouette’s crossline series THE MOM SQUAD, featuring single mothers who find true love. In
Tycoon for Auction
(#1504) by Katherine Garbera, a lady executive wins the services of a commitment-shy bachelor. A playboy falls in love with his secretary in
Billionaire Boss
(#1505) by Meagan McKinney, the latest MATCHED IN MONTANA title. And a Native American hero’s fling with a summer-school teacher produces unexpected complications in
Warrior in Her Bed
(#1506) by Cathleen Galitz.

This April, shower yourself with all six of these moving and sensual new love stories from Silhouette Desire.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

M
ikhail Stepanov was the one man Ellie Lathrop did not want to ask for anything.

At eight o’clock on a late February night, fog curled seductively around the Washington State coastal road; it was treacherous with curves and damp with the drizzling rain that had been falling all day. Ellie tightened her hands on the mini-station wagon’s steering wheel and glanced at the sleeping child in the back seat, nestled amid her favorite blanket and toys.

The drive from Albuquerque was draining, requiring stops at rest areas for Tanya to play. A few hours at night were spent sleeping in the well-lit parking lots of restaurants because motels would have taken the last of Ellie’s money. In the last six months, she had spent most of her reserves in traveling from place to place, always moving, keeping Tanya safe. Ellie drove skillfully, carefully, more so than if she had been traveling by herself—because nothing could happen to her legally adopted, precious child.

Her sister’s biological child…and now Hillary wanted Tanya back, to use as a pawn in her marriage game.

Ellie ran her hand through her hair and realized she was shaking, running on coffee, nerves and fear.

Just over four years ago, she had cruised down this same twisting road, determined to irritate stern man of steel Mikhail Stepanov. Ellie’s father owned the chain of Mignon International Resorts, to which Mikhail’s Amoteh Resort belonged; as the boss’s daughter, she often stayed at the various resorts free of charge. She had driven a sleek custom-ordered red sports car then, and fresh from a luxurious European spa, she had been up to battling Mikhail—one of her most enjoyable diversions, pricking at his meticulous businessman exterior, trying to find the man beneath. Back then, she didn’t care what he thought of her, and it was all a game.

One tilt of that arrogant head, one slash of those green eyes, and her instincts told her to cut the Ice Man down a notch. Maybe back then she’d had to make him pay for being so like her father, focused on business, untouchable in his emotions.

Her father’s files were complete—Mikhail Stepanov had been divorced five years ago, refusing his wife’s demand to leave plans for the Amoteh Resort. JoAnna had come to Mignon’s main offices and had told Paul Lathrop everything—including that she’d deliberately aborted Mikhail’s baby. And yet, Mikhail revealed nothing of the emotions that would disturb another man.

Ellie’s taunting games had stopped when she had became a mother to her sister’s biological child. Tanya, just four years old, had to be protected, and Mikhail was the only man who could help. At six-foot three inches, he towered over Ellie’s five-foot-seven frame, and when he was nearby, her instincts as a woman prickled. She refused to be intimidated by those narrowed green eyes, that forbidding scowl of dark brown brows.

Her windshield wipers click-clacked as Ellie thought of
Mikhail Stepanov, the man she must face. With a Russian immigrant father and a Texas beauty as his mother, Mikhail was devoted to his family and to the Amoteh Resort. As manager, he moved through the luxurious corridors like a lord cruising his fortress, frighteningly efficient, quiet, dark and dangerous. Always perfectly groomed and dressed in a suit, his dark brown hair neatly clipped, Mikhail was about as approachable as an iceberg. Maybe that was why she had loved taunting him so much—just to see if he was human…to see what ran beneath that steely surface.

Mikhail had the unique ability to challenge her at a level that made her want to taunt him, to bring out the real man. Her senses told her that beneath Mikhail’s perfectly groomed, civilized suit lurked a primitive, sensual male—one she wanted to taste and captivate before moving on….

A woman whose mother had deserted her as an infant and who had been raised by a cold, hurtful father, Ellie wasn’t one to stay in relationships that could hurt.

Mikhail couldn’t be hurt. Not once in eleven years since she’d first met him in her father’s offices did he disprove her appraisal. He’d been married and divorced in that time and so had she, but whatever nettled her about Mikhail hadn’t changed.

Ellie doubted that Mikhail had any personal weaknesses—the man was all steel and business, the same ilk as her father.

Her lips pressed tightly as she watched the windshield wipers smear wet trails across the glass. It was dangerous for her to attempt to pit Mikhail against Paul Lathrop—she could lose. Correction: Tanya could lose.

On the hill overlooking the small town of Amoteh, Ellie slowed the small station wagon and stopped briefly. Located on the Pacific edge of southwest Washington State, the town had taken its name from the Chinook word for strawberry,
amoteh.
The lights of the tourist town, now wrapped in rain and fog, glowed eerily in the distance.

Mikhail had fought Paul, persuading him to finance a
Mignon resort in the slow-moving, quiet town. The battles weren’t sweet, but Paul had known that Mikhail’s determination would find finances to create the Amoteh Resort—Mikhail’s beloved “baby.”

Those battles convinced Ellie that Mikhail could protect Tanya from her grandfather and irresponsible mother.

Ellie shivered, despite the warmth of the mini-station wagon. Her nails, no longer long, buffed and glossed, were now short and practical as they tightly gripped the steering wheel.
She despised her helplessness, the desperation that had made her contact Mikhail Stepanov.

As her resources dwindled, she’d been wrangling with Mikhail, trying to nudge him into welcoming her and Tanya at the resort; Lathrops always had free accommodations. Then, six months ago, she’d been desperate. She’d ordered him to reserve a suite for her, with one room prepared for a child. After the first telephone volley between them, he hadn’t answered her telephone calls, e-mails or faxes. Because she had nowhere else to send Tanya’s toys, she had sent them to the Amoteh Resort.

As her father’s daughter, Ellie knew how to bully and maneuver. Begging would be new and humiliating. At thirty-six years old, she was forced to deal with a man just like her father, to make concessions, to be at the mercy of his decisions…. In Mikhail’s tersely expressed opinion, she was a playgirl, a jet-setter without responsibilities, legendary for her whims and parties, and she had botched a major project for the Mignon chain.

She’d botched nothing, merely taken the blame for Hillary, and she wasn’t that playgirl any longer; she was desperate to protect her child and nothing of her former wealth remained. Ellie tightened her hands on the steering wheel; she was done wrangling, threatening and contacting Mikhail. If she had to, she’d beg….

Rain slashed against the windshield, as cold and welcoming as Mikhail would be. Ellie brushed a tear from her cheek. She hated crying, and yet with her financial reserves
and strength almost gone and danger threatening Tanya, she needed the only man who could help her keep her child…if he would.

She weighed arriving at the Amoteh Resort and facing Mikhail; Tanya shouldn’t be exposed to that first clash, because they always clashed, didn’t they? Mikhail in that quiet, dark, intense way as a response to her glittering, slashing offensive. She’d circled him, looking for a weakness, and had found none.

But this time,
Ellie would not let herself respond to the instincts that Mikhail always set off. She would not….

Ellie turned the car from the Amoteh and toward the Stepanov home. She had met Mikhail’s parents, Fadey and Mary Jo Stepanov, earlier, at a social dinner at the opening of the Amoteh, and had liked them instantly.

With the instinct of a mother protecting her child, Ellie drove to the Stepanov home, a bold wooden structure overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Two hours later, Mikhail Stepanov wanted to toss Ellie Lathrop out on her expensive derriere, the one clad in black designer jeans and seated on the walnut desk in his sprawling office. As manager of the expansive Amoteh Resort, he knew how to get rid of unwanted “pests.” Mikhail narrowed his eyes, considering the terms in which to best frame Ellie, and came up with “A Big Bloody Thorn in My Side, the Potential to Ruin Everything, the Woman I Wish Were Anywhere But Here.” Then he added mentally, “The woman who dumped a pitcher of ice water over my head at a business meeting when I agreed with Paul, the woman who lobbed pâté across an elegant dinner table at me, the woman who brought an entire party into my bedroom at her father’s house, the woman I want most to avoid.”

At nine o’clock at night, the rain outside Mikhail’s office window pattered softly. The Amoteh Resort, luxuriously huge and sprawling, was ominously quiet. The few off-
season tourists, taking advantage of the lower rates, had settled in for the night, and the minimal staff had gone to their homes in the small, quaint oceanside town.

With a mix of rain, ice and snow expected, Mikhail would have ordinarily gone to his parents’ home to meet the guest staying there. But Ellie wasn’t just any guest, and he wanted their battle to be private.

Mikhail sent a pointed, narrow-eyed message to said curved bottom on his desk, and Ellie smiled blandly at him. She tilted her head just that bit that said she recognized his hint and wasn’t taking it. Cut in different layers, her shoulder-length hair was sun-streaked, the tips catching the light, shifting over the darker layers beneath. A smooth strand of silky hair slid across her cheek, gleaming and catching the soft lighting. Her tan was genuine, not from a bottle. But above that soft cheek, Ellie’s gray eyes were taunting and veiled by her sweeping eyelashes.

He liked order in his business and in his life, and Ellie knew exactly how to tear that order apart. He refused to let her nettle him.

Her mouth curved slightly and one fine dark eyebrow lifted, challenging him as she moved just enough to nudge a neat stack of papers. The top one slid aside and Mikhail checked himself from straightening them. She knew perfectly well that he preferred order.

All five-foot seven, sleek, selfish, spoiled inches of her, from that carefully tousled shoulder-length hair down to her neatly trimmed boots, had irritated him since the day he first met her—the boss’s daughter.

“I warned you that I was coming. You’ve had months to prepare. I told you to get a suite ready with a room for a child,” Ellie said softly in her cultured, I’ve Got You, Bub, Boss’s Daughter tones. “I sent boxes of toys. Where are they?”

If he could have tossed Ellie out into the night, he would have. From experience, he knew that where Ellie went, she brought trouble.

In this case, she had brought trouble to his parents’ home—in the form of a four-year-old girl. His parents’ delight had sounded over the telephone; they were happy to baby-sit while Ellie Lathrop came to see him. The child was already tucked in and sleeping deeply after his father’s bedtime stories.

Mikhail didn’t want to think about whose child she was. Ellie hadn’t been pregnant at the opening of the Amoteh over four years ago, and now she’d collected a four-year-old child. Paul had been silent about his daughters, but then he wasn’t a sentimental man. Guessing anything about Ellie was a disaster; she was unpredictable. “The toys are in the storeroom. You can take them with you. You’re not setting up camp in the Amoteh.”

“Oh, I’m not?”

There was just that crisp, taunting tone that could set him on edge. How typical of her, Mikhail thought, to arrive at night. Just for the night—because in the morning, she was leaving, Paul Lathrop’s daughter, or not.

“My parents called, warning me of your arrival. They said the little girl is asleep in their guestroom. That’s an indication you aren’t certain of your welcome at the Amoteh, and you went to my parents because you know of their softness for children. Let me clarify the situation for you—You will not use my family, Ellie, and you are not welcome here.”

“Your mother and father were thrilled to baby-sit. I’m going to be staying with them, too. I’m more than welcome there, if not here. I’ll be a regular part of your family. Won’t that be nice?” she asked too sweetly, in the taunting tone she’d used before.

Mikhail chewed on that galling truth—his mother, Mary Jo, had been thrilled, of course…almost as delighted as Fadey, his father. Their first grandchild, Jarek Stepanov and his wife Leigh’s baby, would be born in three weeks, and they had always loved children. Therefore, it made sense that Ellie chose the loving Stepanov family for her vic
tims—a stealthy way to get to Mikhail and torture him as only she could do.

And for some unexplained reason, Mikhail’s parents delighted in hearing of his clashes with Ellie. Their interest in his battles with Ellie was only exceeded by his younger brother’s teasing. Jarek liked her, and before his marriage to Leigh, Jarek and Ellie had played a flirting game that they both knew would go no further. Mikhail had sensed that they did so to torment him.

His ex-wife’s games and torments had made
him
immune to flirtation from self-serving women like Ellie.

Outside, the black swells of the Pacific eased to caress the shoreline, fog curling around the piers, creeping up the steps to enfold the massive Amoteh Resort, caressing it like a lover.

An offshore buoy sounded softly, warningly, as Mikhail opened the window for a breath of the crisp, salt-scented air he had loved all his life. Soft lights shone in his parents’ home, a jutting wood and rock structure with sprawling porches that overlooked the ocean and, a distance away, his brother Jarek’s new home with Leigh.

Just north on the coastline was Strawberry Island. In another century a Hawaiian chieftain, captured and enslaved by whalers and shipwrecked on this island, had died. Bitterly alone and longing for his homeland, Kamakani had placed a curse on Strawberry Island: only a woman who knew her own heart could dance before his grave and remove that curse.

Mikhail decided that Ellie was his private curse. He’d known it from the moment he’d met her eleven years ago in Paul Lathrop’s Seattle office, expensively dressed for a tennis game, and—on the company payroll—laying out her day of saunas and beauty shops and a party that night. He’d known she was a curse when the Amoteh opened and Ellie held a private party in her suite. Mikhail had been called to break up the brawl between two rich playboys competing for her favors. Playing her games, she had sent a pack of
equally spoiled women after Mikhail. Ellie had told them that just-divorced Mikhail was on the lookout for a new wife.