When Sara Beaudry got the note from her brother, she knew it was a matter of life and death. Without a moment to waste she left the modeling shoot, traded her well-known car for a motorcycle, and rode off into a bleak Texas sunset. Roger's message was frighteningly clear: if she wanted to stay alive, she had to find his former partner, Mackenzie Hawk. Although Sara had never met the tall, stoic man of Indian descent, she'd heard that he'd retired to a rustic cabin in Oklahoma's Kiamchi Mountains. Hoping to find him there before dark, Sara headed for the state line.
The whir of a motorcycle engine was an alien sound in the Kiamchi night. Hawk watched in disbelief as the Harley Davidson spun into his yard and its frozen driver collapsed in his arms. What was a tall, leggy redhead doing on his mountain in the middle of the night? As he nursed her back to health, Hawk could see that this was no teenage kid on a joy ride. She was the image of a perfect woman with ivory curves and skin like white satin. The sight of her reminded him of the days when his blood had run hot with desire.
But Hawk had vowed that those days were gone--along with the dangerous assignments and narrow escapes he'd known as a government agent. He'd left undercover work for good. And if this beautiful redhead had anything to do with the agency, he was going to send her packing in the morning, no matter what her story.
Description:
ON HAWK'S MOUNTAIN
When Sara Beaudry got the note from her brother, she knew it was a matter of life and death. Without a moment to waste she left the modeling shoot, traded her well-known car for a motorcycle, and rode off into a bleak Texas sunset. Roger's message was frighteningly clear: if she wanted to stay alive, she had to find his former partner, Mackenzie Hawk. Although Sara had never met the tall, stoic man of Indian descent, she'd heard that he'd retired to a rustic cabin in Oklahoma's Kiamchi Mountains. Hoping to find him there before dark, Sara headed for the state line.
The whir of a motorcycle engine was an alien sound in the Kiamchi night. Hawk watched in disbelief as the Harley Davidson spun into his yard and its frozen driver collapsed in his arms. What was a tall, leggy redhead doing on his mountain in the middle of the night? As he nursed her back to health, Hawk could see that this was no teenage kid on a joy ride. She was the image of a perfect woman with ivory curves and skin like white satin. The sight of her reminded him of the days when his blood had run hot with desire.
But Hawk had vowed that those days were gone--along with the dangerous assignments and narrow escapes he'd known as a government agent. He'd left undercover work for good. And if this beautiful redhead had anything to do with the agency, he was going to send her packing in the morning, no matter what her story.