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Alias Mommy
Linda O. Johnston
Rugged doctor Reeve Snyder had saved her and delivered her baby girl. He was her hero–the kind of man she would have liked to have as a friend…a lover…a father for her baby. If only….Polly Black had been running from something–someone–when the accident had landed her in Reeve's care. He didn't want her gratitude; he wanted the truth, and he wanted her–for the three of them to be a family. Somehow he had to convince Polly that the only place worth running to…was straight into his arms.
“Leave it alone, Reeve. I know you’re trying to help, but if you dig into things you don’t understand, you’ll only hurt me. The baby, too.”
Once again, Reeve took her into his arms, but his feelings were not nearly as tender as before. Something was going on that he did not understand.
“Explain the rest, Polly,” he insisted, trying not to become intoxicated by the fragrant silkiness of her hair.
She shook her head. “I can’t.” Her voice broke.
Where was his sanity? Despite every bit of sense he had, he bent down and captured her mouth with his. For a moment she did not respond. And then she kissed him back, as though this was the only kiss they would ever share. As though there were no tomorrow.
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
The days are getting cooler, but the romantic suspense is always hot at Harlequin Intrigue! Check out this month’s selections.
TEXAS CONFIDENTIAL continues with The Specialist (#589) by Dani Sinclair. Rafe Alvarez was the resident playboy agent, until he met his match in Kendra Kincaide. He transformed his new partner into a femme fatale for the sake of a mission, and instantly lost his bachelor’s heart for the sake of love.…
THE SUTTON BABIES have grown in number by two in Little Boys Blue (#590) by Susan Kearney. A custody battle over cowboy M.D. Cameron Sutton’s baby boys was brewing. When East Coast socialite Alexa Whitfield agreed to a marriage of convenience, Cam thought his future was settled. Until he fell for his temporary wife—the same wife someone was determined to kill!
Hailed by Romantic Times Magazine as an author who writes a “tantalizing read,” Gayle Wilson returns with Midnight Remembered (#591), which marks the conclusion of her MORE MEN OF MYSTERY series. When ex-CIA agent Joshua Stone couldn’t remember his true identity, he became an easy target. But his ex-partner Paige Daniels knew all his secrets, including what was in his heart….
Reeve Snyder had rescued Polly Black from death and delivered her baby girl one fateful night. Polly’s vulnerable beauty touched him deep inside, but who was she? And what was she running from? And next time, would Reeve be able to save her and her daughter when danger came calling? Find out in Alias Mommy (#592) by Linda O. Johnston.
Don’t miss a single exciting moment!
Sincerely,
Denise O’Sullivan
Associate Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue
Alias Mommy
Linda O. Johnston
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda O. Johnston’s first published fiction appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine and won the Robert L. Fish Memorial Award for Best First Mystery Short Story of the Year. Now, several published short stories and four novels later, Linda is recognized for her outstanding work in the romance genre.
A practicing attorney, Linda juggles her busy schedule between mornings of writing briefs, contracts and other legalese, and afternoons of creating memorable tales of the paranormal, time travel, mystery, contemporary and romantic suspense. Armed with an undergraduate degree in journalism with an advertising emphasis from Pennsylvania State University, Linda began her versatile writing career running a small newspaper, then working in advertising and public relations, and later obtaining her J.D. degree from Duquesne University School of Law in Pittsburgh.
Linda belongs to Sisters in Crime and is actively involved with Romance Writers of America, participating in the Los Angeles, Orange County and Western Pennsylvania chapters. She lives near Universal Studios, Hollywood, with her husband, two sons and two cavalier King Charles spaniels.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Polly Black—While on the run from her stepfamily, she gave birth to her baby girl—with the help of a handsome stranger.
Reeve Snyder—A doctor dedicated to saving lives without getting involved in them—but all that changed the night he delivered mysterious and beautiful Polly Black’s baby.
Alicia Frost—The ruthless reporter senses a scandal surrounding the new mom in town.
Lou Jenson—A corrupt politician with his career at stake, Lou is determined to find his missing stepdaughter.
Victor and Gene Jenson—Both brothers believe the best place for their stepsister and her child is home with the family.
Al Crackauer—The private investigator is hot on Catherine’s trail. He’ll let nothing stand in his way.
Ava Calvert Jenson—Has her beloved daughter’s disappearance driven this mother mad?
Contents
Chapter One (#uce5ff327-8424-5e22-ad84-da56e8bda12d)
Chapter Two (#u8f70bfa8-3ddf-5743-bc56-0971e539c2ed)
Chapter Three (#uaeb6152c-41de-59ca-a6b7-e323580e39b8)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Catherine Calvert Elkins leaned as close to the unyielding steering wheel as she could. Her fingers had nearly become attached to the wheel over the past long, long hours, and her cramped hand ached from clutching the leatherlike surface.
The car took curves well, thank heavens, as she forced it to careen through the night. Sheets of rain threw the glare of her headlights back into her face, stabbing her moist, smarting eyes. She blinked, trying to keep them open.
She was exhausted. She had barely stopped to rest over the last what—four days? Five? She had not slept more than a couple of stolen hours at a time along her circuitous route.
“And now, the local weather report,” said a disembodied male voice. She’d turned the radio up to blare over the rain’s pounding and the rushing air of the defogger, which failed to clear the windshield. Only local news was on now. She had no interest in local news—except for the weather report. More thunderstorms coming, the man informed her cheerily.
Of course.
She hated driving in the rain, especially in the dark. It was one of many newly discovered dislikes. As with the rest, she had never experienced this one before. There had always been someone….
No. She didn’t dare think of that now. She had to concentrate on…what?
Oh, yes. Driving.
But she was tired. So tired.
And numb. The debilitating terror she had felt when starting out had dissipated. For now.
There weren’t many cars out this night, not here among the dark mountains along the curving highway. Smart people didn’t go out in this weather.
Smart people had a choice.
She had pushed herself nearly to the limit. She knew that. And she was hurting more than herself.
She reached down and lifted the large paper cup from the holder on the console. Making a face, she forced herself to take a swig of the cold coffee she had bought a few hours back. It smelled like brackish water. But she needed the caffeine.
Okay, she promised herself. First cheap motel she spotted off the interstate after daylight, she’d get a room.
It would be a long time till daylight, she knew. And still the rain smashed down on the road, her car, isolating her from the rest of the world.
That was fine. She needed to be alone. She…
Had to…
Stay awake…
She blinked suddenly, alert, as the headlights caught a metal railing dead in front of her. She slammed on the brakes, spun the steering wheel.
Screamed as the car plunged through the rail, “No…please, no!”
Her last conscious action was to curve into a protective curl.
NEITHER RAIN NOR HEAT nor gloom of night stayed the Selborn Peak, Colorado, city council from its regular Thursday night meeting, Reeve Snyder thought ironically as he carefully guided his Volvo through the blinding torrent.
Nor thunderstorms.
It wasn’t as if the business just conducted was so earthshaking that it couldn’t have waited a week. But he wasn’t the only one who had another demanding job, or a dislike of being out in awful weather. And this wasn’t as bad as winter’s snowstorms, which he abhorred for good reason. Still, if he had complained, his fellow councilpersons would—
His cellular phone rang. “Yes?” he answered tersely. He knew what the call was likely to be about at this hour, and on such a night: a medical emergency.
“Doc?” The voice was shaking. “This is Ernie Pride.”
Reeve had just left Ernie at the council meeting. “Yes, Ernie. What’s up?”
“I just saw a car go off the interstate in front of me. I called 911 and help’s on the way, but I figured you’d be closer than anyone. Can you come?”
“Sure.” Reeve got the particulars and in moments was heading toward the spot, his heart pounding. He was one of a few doctors who lived in this small town, so he was summoned frequently in emergencies. No matter how many times he responded, he couldn’t help feeling the rush of anticipation—and dread.
He never knew how bad it would be till he got there.
It didn’t take long. Half a mile after pulling onto the interstate at the entrance Ernie had named, Reeve thought he saw stationary red lights ahead through the still-pouring rain. Sure enough, as he drew closer, he noticed Ernie’s Land Rover on the shoulder of the road. He pulled behind, tugged off the jacket and necktie he’d worn to the meeting and, grabbing a flashlight, leaped from his car. Drenched as quickly as if he had jumped into a cold shower with his clothes on, he snatched his medical bag from the trunk and looked around. The shoulder was narrow, and the fence that was supposed to protect drivers from the steep slope below was broken by a large gap. Looking down the hillside, Reeve soon spotted another light. “Ernie?” he called.
“Here, Doc!” The response was muffled by the pounding rain.
Reeve slid through scratchy brush and oozing mud down to the scene of the accident—fortunately, not far below the road. The car was small; it must have been traveling too fast, since it had severed the fence so completely. It rested on the passenger side, the driver’s side up in the air. The front was caved in.
Reeve found Ernie perched on the upper edge, prying open the driver’s door with a tire iron. It opened with a shriek of metal. “Too smashed to open regular,” Ernie said, hopping down. A building contractor, Ernie was a short, wiry man, and Reeve had no doubt he’d have opened the car door with his bare hands if it had been possible.
“Who’s inside?” Reeve began climbing up to the opening.
“One person, far as I can tell. There.”
Ernie held his hand up to shine his light inside, and Reeve peered in, increasing the illumination with his own light. A woman lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom, against the passenger door. She seemed unconscious, strewn with glass from the smashed windshield, and what he could see of her head and arms was bloody.
His professionalism keeping him calm, Reeve climbed in and lowered himself to where she lay, careful not to step on her. The car reeked of gasoline, plus a hint of spice, as though of rich perfume—and the metallic stench of blood.
Finally kneeling beside her, he turned her over, automatically reaching for her wrist to check her pulse.
A pain so sharp that it might as well have been physical pierced Reeve’s heart.
The woman was visibly near term pregnant.
“Damn it,” he swore shakily.
He would not lose either one. This time.
KNUCKLES WHITE as he steered his Volvo, Reeve followed the shrieking ambulance to the emergency room door, then parked behind it. As he jumped out of his car, the ambulance’s flashing red light swept over him and reflected on the wet pavement. The rain was slower now but had not completely stopped.
The emergency medical technicians responding to Ernie’s 911 call had arrived not long after Reeve did. He had already stanched the flow of blood from a severe laceration on the woman’s arm, and together they had stabilized her. Her baby was alive but in distress.
Holding an intravenous bag in the air, the EMTs wheeled the woman into the medical center on a gurney. The staff had been alerted to expect the emergency, and Larry Fletcher, a fine obstetrician and a friend of Reeve’s, was waiting.
“What do you think?” he asked Reeve without looking at him. He was already checking over the woman. “Was she conscious at all? Do we know how close the baby is to term?”
“No. She looks pretty far along, though.” A wave of helplessness washed over Reeve, but he quickly set it aside. “The baby’s heartbeat is weak and thready,” he told the obstetrician. “The trauma may have caused a separated placenta.”
