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Show Me A Hero
Allison Leigh
She’s not just another fan. She’s here on baby business.When Ali Templeton shows up at Grant Cooper’s door claiming he’s the uncle of an abandoned baby, the famous thriller writer is shocked. By the news…and by their instant, unstoppable attraction…
She’s not just another fan.
She’s here on baby business.
When small-town cop Ali Templeton shows up at Grant Cooper’s door claiming he’s the uncle of an abandoned baby, the air force veteran turned famous thriller writer is shocked. By the news...and by their instant, irritating attraction. Grant moved to Weaver for peace and quiet, not whirlwind romance. Now it’s time to step up and be a hero—for the child’s sake and his own.
Though her name is frequently on bestseller lists, ALLISON LEIGH’s high point as a writer is hearing from readers that they laughed, cried or lost sleep while reading her books. She credits her family with great patience for the time she’s parked at her computer, and for blessing her with the kind of love she wants her readers to share with the characters living in the pages of her books. Contact her at allisonleigh.com (http://www.allisonleigh.com).
Also by Allison Leigh (#ulink_5647b0be-4fc3-53bf-a2a7-6003bbb43511)
Yuletide Baby Bargain
A Child Under His Tree
The BFF Bride
One Night in Weaver…
A Weaver Christmas Gift
A Weaver Beginning
Destined for the Maverick
Fortune’s Homecoming
Wild West Fortune
Fortune’s Secret Heir
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Show Me a Hero
Allison Leigh
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07799-6
SHOW ME A HERO
© 2018 Allison Lee Johnson
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my family.
Contents
Cover (#ud0b2b543-7ceb-56f1-a852-52f19a224985)
Back Cover Text (#u345e3e69-beaa-5905-8a42-43cfc21a2184)
About the Author (#u42db5127-1840-56b7-9dd3-534f4a080712)
Booklist (#ulink_a3cb483c-b85a-5b65-9c7c-95987287d55a)
Title Page (#ub485cc78-417e-505d-bd01-4980bec90203)
Copyright (#ubb32a4c5-9f07-5cb0-9dc6-e0deed9d62b7)
Dedication (#ua36e8b5e-a401-5035-bb37-a44e4c55a1a9)
Chapter One (#ud9ae7f6e-5704-5374-a52d-7caab58f63d6)
Chapter Two (#u4cde99ce-c25f-529a-aaa0-bf2813c84a2f)
Chapter Three (#u233db213-3275-5774-a5b5-8ab555bc50a3)
Chapter Four (#uc501dc41-a95b-5366-b82b-4e29b82ff656)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_0d8d029d-62e5-554e-ba3a-01df63065e35)
The house was nineteen-point-six miles outside of town.
“Incredible,” Ali Templeton muttered under her breath when she pulled up in front of the dated-looking two-story building that sat on a small knoll in what seemed like the middle of nowhere.
Only nineteen-point-six miles.
She exhaled and pushed open the door of her cruiser, sticking one sturdy boot out onto the frozen red earth. She was on personal time and probably shouldn’t be using the vehicle assigned to her by the department. It would be one more reason for her sergeant to give her grief, but her own little pickup truck was in the shop, and would be remaining there until she could scrabble together the money to pay for the new transmission it needed.
She zipped up her jacket against the whistling wind as she studied the house in front of her. Sgt. Gowler had been annoyed with her ever since she stopped dating his son, so she was used to it by now. What was one more reprimand?
Discovering that Grant Cooper was living just nineteen-point-six miles outside of her very own hometown was either the height of irony, or the proof that she wasn’t much of a cop, just like Sgt. Gowler seemed to think.
Not that she was here for professional reasons.
Not exactly.
Her bangs blew into her face, obscuring her view, and she shoved her sunglasses up onto the top of her head to keep her hair out of her eyes. She should never have impetuously cut the bangs. It was taking forever for them to grow long enough to stay contained in the bun she had to wear because Gowler was a stickler for regulations.
She’d been out to this abandoned ranch once before. Just over a year ago. Then, it had been at the behest of a single mom at her wit’s end over the wild crowd her fifteen-year-old son had fallen in with. Alongside one of the county’s deputy sheriffs, she’d rounded up Trevor and the rest of the kids, boarded up the broken windows that had allowed them access to the vacant house and hauled the kids back home to their parents.
There were still no animals in the fields. But now the sheets of plywood were gone. All the windows were intact. And though there was no sign of any vehicles, there was a thin stream of smoke coming from the chimney that she hoped meant the man she sought was actually inside.
When she went up the weathered porch steps, they creaked ominously, as if they hadn’t borne the weight of a human being in about half a century. Jabbing her gloved finger against the doorbell didn’t elicit any response, so she tugged off the glove, balled her fingers into a fist and pounded loudly on the door. A shelf of snow slid off the roof, landing with a plop next to her feet.
She wasn’t going to take it as a bad sign. The snow could just have easily landed on her head.
She swiped the pile sideways with her boot until it fell off the side of the small porch, and knocked again, a little more gently this time. Even if he didn’t answer the door, she wasn’t going to give up.
Not now that she’d finally found him.
She glanced at her watch. She couldn’t afford to be too long before she reported in, or Gowler really would have a legitimate reason to be all over her case. But she’d just discovered where Grant Cooper was and she wasn’t taking any chances. She knocked on the door again, then glanced over her shoulder, scanning the landscape around the house. It looked even more desolate than it had when she’d rousted the weed-smoking teenagers.
But then again, it was the middle of January. In the middle of Wyoming.
“Come on.” She lifted her hand to knock again, but the door was yanked open from the inside, startling her enough that she fell back a step.
Annoyed with herself, she stiffened her shoulders and looked up into the face of the man who stood there.
Six feet tall. A lean 170. Dark-haired. Dark-browed, dark-bearded. Her brain automatically categorized the details that she’d only seen in a photo in his DMV record.
When she got to the eyes, though?
She felt her brain short-circuit.
Not blue.
Not green.
Aqua.
Entirely heart-stopping, even though they were glaring at her.
“I can’t believe I finally found you,” she blurted.
His lips thinned. “It’s my only one.” He shoved something into her hands. “Now get off my property.” Before she could blink, he slammed the door shut. Right in her face.
She was too stunned to react.
At first.
But annoyance quickly hit and she pounded on the door again, using the spine of the hardback book he’d pushed into her hand. It served one good purpose at least—it made an effective door-knocker.
It didn’t matter to her if he turned out to be as strange as a three-dollar bill. She wasn’t going to just turn around and leave because he hadn’t greeted her with a big smile and howdy-do.
So she banged with the book and pulled out her badge with her other hand. “Mr. Cooper, open the door,” she said loudly. “I’m not going away until we’ve had a chance to speak.” She banged again. “Open up!”
The door was yanked open again. “If Chelsea sent you—”
Ali did the shoving this time and pushed her badge right in front of his face. “I’m Officer Templeton with the Braden Police Department, here on official business.” She was definitely stretching the truth about that, but oh, well. “I don’t know who Chelsea is, nor do I care, unless she has information about the whereabouts of Daisy Miranda.”
Only because she was watching him closely did she catch the glint of surprise in his otherwise glowering expression.
“Are you Grant Cooper?”
He still looked like he wasn’t going to answer and she wiggled her badge a little, even as she tried to make herself as physically imposing as five foot two could ever be.
“Yes,” he admitted through his teeth.
“Then Daisy is your sister.” The woman might be a rolling stone, never staying in one place for more than three or four months at a time, but she seemed to have tried to always maintain some sort of contact with her brother.
Which was the only reason Ali had found him right here at all. She’d literally followed a postcard to the man.
Nineteen-point-six miles. He’d been practically under her nose all this time.
