Ghost From the Past, Sorcha MacMurrough,

Ghost From the Past
Sorcha MacMurrough

Biochemist Clarissa Vincent's fiance Julian Simmons was killed in a terrible explosion five years before.
Or was he? Taking a new job in Portland, Oregon, Clarissa sees a man at the airport who could be Julian's double.
Suddenly Clarissa is propelled into a nightmarish world of espionage and intrigue. She must struggle to save all she holds most dear from the ruthless plotters who will stop at nothing to achieve world domination with the biological weapon she has unwittingly created.

Ghost From the Past
Sorcha MacMurrough
Romantic Suspense
ISBN: 978-1-58345-150-2
Word count: 78,500
Rating: Sensual


Chapter One
Dr. Clarissa Vincent, waiting quietly for her luggage to come off the airport carousel in Portland, Oregon, suddenly saw a ghost.
She tried to drag in a ragged breath as she gazed over at the man talking on his cell phone. Her knees began to quake. It took all her strength to prevent herself from fainting.
It can't be! He's dead! came the excruciatingly painful voice of reason.
Yet again she lifted her eyes, shocked and ever-hopeful, to the magnificent man standing next to a pillar across from her.
Clarissa tried to restrain her emotions before they rocketed out of control. This wasn't the first time her desperate longing had convinced her that Julian was still alive.
Ever since the death of her fiance five years before, Clarissa had often seen men who had made her long for Julian Simmons with an acuteness bordering on agony.
She pressed her sweating palms together, and tried to look away. But the more she attempted to ignore him, the more she seemed compelled towards this mysterious man.
He was just as tall as Julian had been, nearly six foot five. The hand holding the phone had the same long, tapering fingers.
"This is ridiculous," Clarissa muttered to herself aloud.   "He doesn't even have the same hair color, or eyes," she guessed, after a few more seconds' scrutiny as she took several steps closer.
But it was easy enough to dye one's hair, she admitted. The unnatural glint in the dark brown eyes suggested the man was wearing contact lenses.
Colored ones? Clarissa speculated, as she moved closer to left hand side of him, concealing herself on the other side of the pillar. Then she caught the man's deep thrilling tones.
Her mouth went dry. She could feel the perspiration running down her back in rivulets.   Resisting the impulse to throw herself into his arms, she slid away and sat down on a nearby bench, deciding she had to be absolutely sure it was Julian before making a complete fool of herself.
Clarissa overheard her ghostly man say, "The Baltimore flight won't be in for another twenty minutes. I'll get a cup of coffee, and wait it out. I'll report back as soon as I get the information. Make sure you have back-up standing by."
Clarissa was positive it was not merely wishful thinking. It was definitely Julian's voice.
Next she tried to make sense of the words. She now knew with absolute certainty that this was no ghost. Nor was it her fanciful imagination. He had also mentioned Baltimore. It had been the site of his supposedly fatal accident.
But why did he sound so official, almost as though he were working for the police? He had been a biochemist, like herself, in charge of one of the most prestigious and successful corporations in the United States, Simmons Petrochemicals. What was he doing here?
And how could he possibly still be alive?
Clarissa studied Julian as he walked over to the coffee stand, and noticed he now walked with a slight limp. No doubt from the explosion, she reasoned, clicking another piece of the puzzle into place.
Next she examined his clothes. They were not the well-cut formal suits he had always worn in the office, but nearly identical to his usual casual wear. The black trousers were crisply pressed, with razor sharp creases, and he wore a black polo neck cashmere sweater. Both items of clothing molded to his perfectly-formed body so closely that he might as well have been naked, Clarissa thought with a resentment not unmixed with breathless admiration.
His physique was the envy of every man, from the well-developed shoulders and upper arms, evidence of the many years he had rowed at university, down to his broad muscular chest, his slender hips, and long graceful legs.
Clarissa remembered how every eye had focused on them whenever they had entered a room together, both of them tall, dark, stately. And very much in love.
I mustn't do this to myself, Clarissa thought with a pang. What's the point of raking up all those old memories? He may be alive, and I'm thrilled, but what now? He's been alive all this time and never once contacted me? We can't just turn back the clock. Too much has happened, she recalled with growing dread.
As Julian returned with his coffee to take up his surveillance position near the pillar again, Clarissa dared to peep at his face.
True, he looked slightly older, and certainly more careworn than she remembered. But there was the same deep cleft in the chin, the slightly unruly brows which could frown so threateningly down over his spectacular eyes, or raise in surprise and laughter. She knew the eyes ought to be steel gray.
As for the hair, it had been an incredible shade of brown, with reddish and gold tinges when the light caught it at certain angles.
Clarissa thought with relief that at least the accident hadn't scarred him for life. Not that it would have mattered to her if it had. She had loved Julian passionately.
Still did.
Nothing could have come between their love except death.
Or so she'd thought.
Seeing him alive again forced her to question that, and her entire perception of their past together.
Clarissa looked for other telltale signs of his identity. She squinted hard, and could also see the mark where he had once worn an earring, his one act of youthful rebellion which had oddly suited him. She detected glints of gold and white as he held up a newspaper in front of his face.
Elated, she knew she could prove his identity beyond a doubt. But she had to be careful. People didn't pretend to be dead for no reason. If he passed this test, what then?
Clarissa had no idea. But she had to be certain. She circled around behind the pillar and approached him on his left hand side.
"Excuse me, could you tell me the time please?" she heard herself ask in a quivering voice.
The impatience of the gesture was unmistakable as he jerked his arm up to glance at his watch, not even troubling to turn around to face her.
Clarissa received her confirmation. There on his left hand was the signet ring he had always worn on his middle finger, and the ivory one she had given him on his fourth.
"Twelve o'clock," Julian grunted.
She also noted that the battered Rolex watch was the same he'd always worn.
She managed to gasp a thank you, and scurried away.
Clarissa's mind was in turmoil. What should she do?
Forcing herself to be practical, she realized that the crowd coming off her same flight from New York was thinning out, and she needed to get her luggage. She hurried to the carousel. Her bags came around together, almost as if by magic.
Then Clarissa searched for her car rental company, and was told that her vehicle was being valeted and would be delivered in about twenty minutes.
Clarissa was terrified. What if Julian decided to leave?
But no, he had said that the Baltimore flight was late. She had time to organize herself. She decided putting her suitcases in the left luggage area would give her a bit more freedom.
She had a few basics in her black holdall, so she could afford to leave her things until she got herself settled. A seasoned traveller, she had been caught one or two times with missing, lost or shredded suitcases, and so she had packed her carry-on for just such a contingency.
Clarissa checked through her American dollars, passport, and credit cards hastily. She saw that she had enough money to last several days until she could arrange a transfer of funds from Ireland.
Clarissa decided to just sit and wait in a corner of the baggage claim area, watching the hauntingly familiar man's every move as she waited to see what would happen next.
After all, what else could she do?
She had to be sure this was really Julian. She couldn't bear not knowing, being haunted like this for the rest of her life.
Surely it couldn't be just wishful thinking. That she had made a silly mistake.
She only wished she weren't so sure it really was her beloved. For even more terrifying than the thought that he really was dead, was the overwhelming question: If it really was Julian, then why had he pretended to be dead for five years, when he was still very much alive?

Reviews:
I really loved the dark, scarred, brooding hero in this riveting book. The couple have real angst, with her thinking him dead for 5 years, and the hero's issues with the heroine. He has been made to believe that his former fiancee had betrayed him and tried to murder him, but the deep and abiding love they shared, which sparks anew, makes him call into question everything he thinks is true.
The conniving Sylvia pulling his strings only makes matters worse, yet Julian decides to throw all caution to the wind and listen to his heart. He dares to trust to love amid the most dire situations, and together they must take on all their enemies in a race against time to stop their horrendous plot.
Surrounded by double agents, and convinced Clarissa isn't telling him the whole story, Julian is constantly being forced to choose between love of country and duty, and the woman he has never forgotten, never stopped loving, even after all those years of thinking her a villain.
This novel is a great game of cat and mouse, and the characters as well as the tight suspense plot keep the pages turning. The setting, the Pacific Northwest, is depicted so clearly I feel like I am right in the middle of the action.
This is a gripping romantic suspense novel with great sensual sizzle. Evelyn Trimborn, Harlequin Hearts

Ghost From the Past
Sorcha MacMurrough
Romantic Suspense
ISBN: 978-1-58345-150-2
Word count: 78,500
Rating: Sensual

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