скачать книгу бесплатно
Secret Service Dad
Mollie Molay
Clear and Present…Trouble?Mike Wheeler needed to look no further than Charlene "Charlie" Norris to find the cause of the pain in his–leg. Mixing it up with a diplomat one minute, then chasing after an exotic pet the next, Charlie was an international incident just waiting to happen. The woman was pure trouble. With her long, shapely legs and cheery attitude, she had a way of turning his wellordered world upside down every time their paths crossed. Mike already had his hands full, juggling single fatherhood and a danger-filled job. Now he'd pulled bodyguard duty for the free-spirited blonde who made his blood race and lonely heart stir. But was Charlie really mother and wife material? And was Mike prepared to become a secret service husband?Grooms in Uniform: Serving their country, as they follow their hearts…
Blond, blue-eyed security risk…
Mike caught sight of Charlie and as if on cue, his leg started to ache…. The pain reminded him of the night he’d been wounded in the line of duty.
In his book, trouble, Charlie and his aching leg were synonymous. He wasn’t afraid of what she might do next; he was afraid of a loose cannon, and that description custom-fit Charlie Norris to a T.
There was another concern, Mike thought uneasily as he made his way through the crowded room. He was way too fascinated with Charlie for his own good. It just might prove a fatal attraction in his line of work as an agent in the Secret Service…because Charlie Norris was a magnet for trouble!
Dear Reader,
Millionaire. Prince. Secret agent. Doctor. If any—or all—of these men strike your fancy, well…you’re in luck! These fabulous guys are waiting for you in the pages of this month’s offerings from Harlequin American Romance.
His best friend’s request to father her child leads millionaire Gabe Deveraux to offer a bold marriage proposal in My Secret Wife by Cathy Gillen Thacker, the latest installment of THE DEVERAUX LEGACY series. A royal request makes Prince Jace Carradigne heir to a throne—and in search of his missing fiancée—in Mindy Neff’s The Inconveniently Engaged Prince, part of our ongoing series THE CARRADIGNES: AMERICAN ROYALTY. (And there are royals galore to be found when the series comes to a sensational ending in Heir to the Throne, a special two-in-one collection by Kasey Michaels and Carolyn Davidson, available next month wherever Harlequin books are sold.)
Kids, kangaroos and a kindhearted woman are all in a day’s work for cool and collected secret agent Mike Wheeler in Secret Service Dad, the second book in Mollie Molay’s GROOMS IN UNIFORM series. And a big-city doctor attempts to hide his true identity—and his affections—for a Montana beauty in The Doctor Wore Boots by Debra Webb, the conclusion to the TRADING PLACES duo.
So be sure to catch all of these wonderful men this month—and every month—as you enjoy their wonderful love stories from Harlequin American Romance.
Happy reading,
Melissa Jeglinski
Associate Senior Editor
Harlequin American Romance
Secret Service Dad
Mollie Molay
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To June Arias for introducing me to the world of kangaroos. If there are any errors, they are solely mine.
Thank you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After working for a number of years as a logistics contract administrator in the aircraft industry, Mollie Molay turned to a career she found far more satisfying—writing romance novels. Mollie lives in Northridge, California, surrounded by her two daughters and eight grandchildren, many of whom find their way into her books. She enjoys hearing from her readers and welcomes comments. You can write to her at Harlequin Books, 300 East 42nd St., 6th Floor, New York, NY 10017.
Books by Mollie Molay
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
560—FROM DRIFTER TO DADDY
597—HER TWO HUSBANDS
616—MARRIAGE BY MISTAKE
638—LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON
682—NANNY & THE BODYGUARD
703—OVERNIGHT WIFE
729—WANTED: DADDY
776—FATHER IN TRAINING
799—DADDY BY CHRISTMAS
815—MARRIED BY MIDNIGHT
839—THE GROOM CAME C.O.D.
879—BACHELOR-AUCTION BRIDEGROOM
897—THE BABY IN THE BACK SEAT
938—THE DUCHESS & HER BODYGUARD* (#litres_trial_promo)
947—SECRET SERVICE DAD* (#litres_trial_promo)
ALL-POINTS BULLETIN
The following fugitive is wanted by the MCLEAN, VIRGINIA, POLICE DEPARTMENT
WANTED
“Boomer” Norris
(aka “Joey”)
Norris is unarmed, but can turn overly affectionate if cornered. He has been on the run since escaping from the private zoo owned by Charlene “Charlie” Norris earlier this week. If you have any information regarding this individual or have knowledge of his whereabouts, please contact Sergeant Hawkins of the minor crime support division, McLean Police Department.
Contents
Prologue (#u521bc385-d98e-5cfb-ae81-2df3b2f82060)
Chapter One (#ufc9e1d0b-c8df-5ed7-ab59-70cb11d326e0)
Chapter Two (#u59be6aaf-70ef-5fac-90f7-b6ae33ba83ca)
Chapter Three (#u7fd69e88-a6c3-5c69-92d0-c2ab29277f2b)
Chapter Four (#u6a73d5fb-a9d4-565c-a06c-41a85dfd05f9)
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)
Prologue
Europe, the Country of Baronovia, February
Flailing helplessly, U.S. Secret Service agent Mike Wheeler tumbled to the ground. Moments before, he’d been idly checking out security measures around the palace where the wedding of Duchess Mary Louise to Commander Wade Stevens of the U.S. Navy was to take place in a few hours. Now, he was lying on his back in a bed of carefully tended petunias and staring up into a pair of startled blue eyes.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry! I’m afraid I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay? Here, let me help you up!” A pair of manicured feminine hands pulled at his tuxedo jacket.
Mike bit back the paralyzing pain in his injured leg and grimly eyed his attacker, Charlie Norris, a fellow American and a member of the wedding party. She was the last person he wanted to meet.
He took a deep breath and struggled to his feet. Getting shot in the line of duty three months ago had been the pits. Getting knocked over by the woman who inadvertently had played a large part in the events that had led to the shooting didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” She took a corner of her silk stole, wet it between her lips and tried to scrub something off his chin.
To his chagrin, whether he approved of her or not, his body warmed at her touch. And tightened at the sight of full, tempting lips so close to his own. He grabbed her hand before things could become more personal.
“Thank you, no,” he said tightly. “Give me a minute. I’ll be fine.”
She waited hopefully, her concern evident. Considering how he felt about the way trouble seemed to follow Charlie and wind up affecting him, he would have been just as happy to see her leave.
“I understand that there are over two hundred rooms in the palace and that it is surrounded by hundreds of acres of grounds,” he said when he could breath freely again. “How did you manage to pick precisely the same two square feet of ground I was standing on to stumble about on?”
She colored. “I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking.”
“That’s the problem,” he agreed as he tried to balance himself squarely on two feet. He hadn’t approved of the lady’s methods as the concierge of Blair House even before she ignored security rules to aid and abet the forbidden courtship and subsequent fairy-tale marriage of today’s unlikely bride and groom. He didn’t approve of her any more now.
Charlie bristled. She had been about to tell Mike she’d barreled into him simply because she had slipped down the sloping lawn. “The only mistake I made was to head for the only friendly face I thought I recognized out here,” she said. “Strike the word friendly. And furthermore,” she went on as she tried to balance on one foot, “it looks as if I’ve sprained my ankle. All you have to show for this accident are a few grass stains!” Turning to leave, she teetered and flailed at empty air.
Instinctively, Mike reached to catch Charlie before she fell. Too late—she stumbled, squealed and, to his discomfort, landed squarely in his arms.
He closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten. However misguided Charlie Norris might be, and no matter how wary he was of what she might do next, she was every bit as soft and warm as he’d been afraid she would turn out to be.
Chapter One
Washington, D.C., April
It was said by some that Washington’s Blair House was jinxed.
Now that it looked as if a second State Department guest within six months had become the target of a disgruntled foreign nationalist, Secret Service agent Mike Wheeler was prepared to believe the rumor. At least this shooting, thank God, hadn’t happened on his watch.
For some reason, whenever Mike thought of Blair House, his thoughts turned to the Blair House concierge, Charlene Norris, dubbed Charlie by all who knew her. She was trouble, blond, blue-eyed trouble. If that wasn’t bad enough, she usually got him involved in whatever trouble she managed to get herself into.
His fears had been realized when he reported for duty that day. The foyer of the residence was teeming with activity. The air smelled of cordite. Cell phones were ringing. Sirens screamed outside, Secret Service agents, anyone with the credentials to get in the front door milled around the reception room where, to his dismay, it looked as if another attempted assassination had taken place.
His practiced eye took in a wounded man who lay sprawled, groaning on the marble entry floor clutching his bleeding shoulder. An agitated man dressed in a foreign military uniform stood handcuffed in the custody of two D.C. policemen. The cuffed man was protesting at the top of his lungs, but the police seemed to be ignoring their suspect. One D.C. lawman gingerly held a smoking gun by two fingers while a third was preparing to fit the gun into a plastic evidence bag.
Off to the side, six uniformed staff members stood gaping at the scene being played out in front of them. Mike didn’t blame them. He could hardly believe it himself.
He cut through the mob scene until he caught sight of Charlie Norris. She looked as if she was in a state of shock. There was blood on one of her wrists and on the skirt of her tailored beige suit. He was concerned at the sight, but not surprised. He’d had the sinking feeling that somehow she would be in the thick of any action, hadn’t he?
And not for the first time.
As if on cue, his leg started to ache. The pain reminded him of the night a disenchanted Baronovian nationalist had attempted to assassinate Prince Alexis of Baronovia and his daughter, the duchess Mary Louise, the night he’d been wounded in the line of duty.
In his book, trouble, Charlie and his aching leg were synonymous.
He wasn’t actually afraid of what she might do next. Almost half his size, he could have handled two of her. Besides, problem-solving was his job. What he was afraid of was a loose cannon, a description that custom-fit Charlie Norris to a T.
There was another concern, he thought uneasily as he made his way through the crowded room to where the shooting had taken place. He was too fascinated with Charlie for his own good. A fatal attraction if there ever was one, he thought unhappily.
Gazing at Charlie today, he realized that Charlie Norris, the coltish figure from the Baronovia caper, obviously was a magnet for trouble. Her hair was summer sunbeams, her eyes the color of clear blue summer skies. Used as a weapon, à la the famed Helen of Troy, her blue eyes could have sunk a thousand battleships. But instead of her usual professional, tailored appearance, tonight she looked distraught and disheveled.
Normally, Charlie had the most sinful and inviting smile he’d ever encountered on a woman. And, to his professional way of thinking, the darndest way of talking herself out of any problem she managed to get herself into. She wasn’t smiling now. After a glance around at the chaotic activity, he couldn’t blame her.
He bit back his frustration as he came up along her side. To his chagrin, his body reminded him he hadn’t been with a woman for a while; not since before the Baronovian shooting. Why in the hell he remembered this now, in a room full of people that resembled a scene out of a TV mystery comedy, beat the hell out of him. Maybe it was the excitement of the moment—he always seemed to feel high when danger threatened. If that weren’t so, he never would have joined the Secret Service nor would he have met Charlie.
Mike ground to a halt and turned his gaze on her. From the distressed expression on her face, he knew she had to have been present when all hell had broken loose.
“What?” she said before he could open his mouth. She glared at him from under narrowed eyebrows and crossed her arms in front of her as if to put some distance between them. She certainly didn’t look pleased to see him. Maybe it was difficult for her to read his opinion of the situation.
He might have been more surprised at her question, if he’d been paying closer attention. The truth was, he’d been so busy admiring the dimple on her left cheek he hadn’t been concentrating.
Wrong.
He knew better than most that the best defense, when you’ve painted yourself into a corner, was a good offense. After his experience with Charlie in Baronovia, he knew firsthand she was damn good at the offensive end of the game. To complicate matters, she made him feel guilty for not trusting her even when he had nothing to feel guilty about.
