On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

should take a hint and drop the subject, Callaway."
    She gave a dramatic sigh. "Another person with a secret. I seem to be surrounded by them tonight."
    He smiled. "I don't know about that. Your Italian boys seemed up front and outgoing."
    "The Moretti twins? I've known them forever. They're not to be taken seriously."
    Her dismissive words made him feel oddly better about the interaction he'd witnessed earlier. "Are you sure about that? The first one looked really into you."
    "Tony is a huge flirt. He's that way with everyone."
    "If you say so."
    "I do say so," she said firmly. "What about you? No date tonight?"
    "Not tonight."
    "You do like to be the man of mystery, don't you?"
    "I've heard it adds to my charm."
    "Charm? You think you have charm?" she asked doubtfully.
    He couldn't help but grin at her disgruntled expression. "Apparently, you don't think so."
    "Tonight is the first time I've ever seen you smile. So maybe there's more to you than I thought."
    "Maybe there is."
    She stared at him, then said. "Well, I don't have time for mystery men. I have my hands full at the moment."
    He should be relieved by her answer, but he found himself oddly disappointed.
    "I should go and mingle," she added.
    "You should," he said, downing his drink. "I have to take off."
    "So soon?"
    "I have an early morning. Have a good night."
    "You, too."
    He set his empty glass down on a nearby table and moved quickly through the crowded restaurant. When he stepped outside, he was surprised to see a guy peering into the windows of the bar. He wore jeans and a big sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head. The man jerked when he realized Max was looking at him. He turned quickly and walked away.
    Uneasiness ran down Max's spine. His car was in the opposite direction, but something made him follow the guy down the street. The man picked up his pace when he reached the corner. Max did the same, but when he jogged around the block, the guy was gone.
    Max stopped, frustrated that he'd lost him, even though he didn't really know why he was in pursuit. But he'd trusted his instincts for a very long time, and most of the time his gut did not steer him wrong. Maybe this time, however, his instincts were off. He was on edge. His life was about to change in a big way, and he didn't know if he was ready.
    Turning, he walked back the way he'd come. When he reached his car, his phone rang. He pulled it out and saw his mother's number. His stomach muscles clenched.
    "Mom? What's up?"
    "I just want to make sure you're going to pick me up at eight o'clock tomorrow," she said.
    "I promised I would," he replied.
    "Don't be late. Your brother has waited long enough for this day."
    "I won't be late," he promised. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and then opened his car door and slid behind the wheel, his heart racing a little too fast as he thought about the next morning—about the sixty mile drive north to the prison where he would pick up his brother.

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Excerpt: Falling For A Stranger
    (Callaways, #3)

    Barbara Freethy

    CHAPTER ONE

    Ria Hastings was in the mood for trouble. It was a warm tropical night on Isla de los Sueños, a small island off the coast of Costa Rica, known for its white sandy beaches, water sports, deep sea fishing, and rum drinks. On one side of the island, several large estates sat on the rugged hillsides with spectacular views of the ocean. The rest of the town lived near the beach, where three hotels and a dozen restaurants competed for tourist dollars.
    Ria wiped a strand of blonde hair off her sweaty forehead. The temperature hovered around eighty degrees at just after midnight, and the beachside bar was packed with tourists. Ria had been tending the bar since seven, and she was ready to call it a night. She'd been hit on four times already, and while she was used to handling men who were a little too drunk or too interested in her, she was tired of wearing a polite smile, but she would do exactly that for another hour. She couldn't risk getting fired, nor could she afford to draw any attention to herself. She'd been blending into the local scene for months. Now was not the night to stand out.
    As she wiped down the counter, her gaze caught on a man sitting at the far end of the bar. He'd arrived two hours earlier with a friend—a loud, charming, and now hammered, sunburned blond by the name of Tim. Tim had been doing tequila shots since ten and was now hosting a trio of beautiful girls at