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Maverick Christmas
Joanna Wayne
CHRISTMAS CAME TO SHERIFF JOSH McCAIN'S HOUSE WITH MORE THAN A FEW SURPRISESHe'd been solitary for so long–his own man. Then suddenly a single father doing his best. But above all, the Montana lawman did what was right no matter the cost. Until he met Chrysie Atwater and her two girls.She had a fake name, a fake past and few details in between. And for some reason Josh found her totally irresistible. Was it the spirit of Christmas that had him breaking the rules, or his own loneliness? More likely it was the fierce determination he saw in Chrysie's eyes. She went to considerable trouble to protect her daughters, and Josh was resolved to fi nd out why. But he'd do it on his terms before he'd reveal her secrets to the authorities, who he suspected were involved in setting her up.It would take a Christmas miracle and then some to do that and still celebrate Christmas as a family….
So here she was in league with the sheriff. It was a strange bonding, one fraught with frightening possibilities. At any moment he could decide the risk of harboring her was too great.
Josh sat down on the bed beside her and wrapped his arm around her trembling shoulders. She rested against him, as soft as a pillow of clover. And then his lips were on hers, and even vestiges of sane thought were stripped from his mind.
He knew he was making a monumental mistake. But still he didn’t pull away.
Chrysie trembled as Josh’s lips claimed hers. The passion surging through her was almost as frightening as the fear, the sweet, salty taste of Josh’s mouth foreign and forbidden. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong man. But the kiss deepened, and she couldn’t fight the thrill of Josh McCain along with everything else she had to battle.
Maverick Christmas
Joanna Wayne
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A heartfelt thanks to Paula Haines, Jay Miller, Vicki Sucher
and Joyce Keiler, my golfing buddies who keep me sane. And
always, a special word of appreciation to my wonderful editor
Denise Zaza, who puts up with me. A hug to my husband, who
has the patience to live with a writer. And most especially,
happy holidays to all my fantastic and very loyal readers.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joanna Wayne lives with her husband just a few miles from steamy, exciting New Orleans, but her home is the perfect writer’s hideaway. A lazy bayou, complete with graceful herons, colorful wood ducks and an occasional alligator, winds just below her back garden. When not creating tales of spine-tingling suspense and heartwarming romance, she enjoys reading, traveling, playing golf and spending time with family and friends.
Joanna believes that one of the special joys of writing is knowing that her stories have brought enjoyment to or somehow touched the lives of her readers. You can write Joanna at P.O. Box 2851, Harvey, LA 70059-2851.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Chrysie Atwater—Child psychologist on the run who thinks Montana will be her haven, until she crosses paths with the handsome sheriff.
Sheriff Josh McCain—He’ll break every rule in the book to keep Chrysie and her daughters safe.
Jenny and Mandy—Chrysie’s two preschool daughters.
Danny and Davy McCain—The sheriff’s six-year-old twin sons.
Logan and Rachel McCain—Josh’s brother and sister-in-law.
Jonathan Harwell—Chrysie’s murdered husband, a man with lots of secrets.
Buck and Evelyn Miller—The cabin that Chrysie rents in Montana is on their land.
Cougar—The part-time deputy.
Vanessa Templar—Ex-secretary and possible lover of Chrysie’s late husband.
Luisa Pellot—Jonathan Harwell’s law partner before he was killed.
Angela Martina and Juan Hernandez— Houston homicide detectives.
Mac Buckley and Sean Rogers—Paid killers.
Grecco—Josh’s friend, who works for Homeland Security.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter One
Chrysie Atwater rushed across the creaking floor of the civic center to pick up her young angel, who’d just been shoved to the floor by the unruly reindeer. The boy and his twin brother had been out of control all night, totally undisciplined and requiring constant supervision.
“I want to go home,” Jenny announced as Chrysie helped her back to her feet and straightened her wings.
“You don’t want to let one reindeer keep you from being in the pageant.”
“He’s not a reindeer. He’s just an annoying boy.”
A very astute judgment, but Chrysie wasn’t ready to pull Jenny out of the performance. Both of her young daughters needed some normalcy and social interaction with their peers, especially Jenny. Moving from town to town had been stressful for her.
Which was why Chrysie was out on a frigid night, volunteering her services to Jenny’s kindergarten teacher, who’d taken on the unenviable task of directing the community Christmas pageant.
Mrs. Larkey had the reindeer collared and was leading him toward them. “Tell Jenny you’re sorry, Danny,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said, stamping at the floor like a frisky pony and showing no sign of remorse. In fact, mischief danced in his dark eyes.
“No more pushing,” Mrs. Larkey said. “If you do, I’ll have to tell your father.”
“Aw, don’t tell him. I’ll be good.” The kid looked up at the teacher and smiled, showing a gap in front where one of his baby teeth was missing.
Chrysie followed Mrs. Larkey as she walked back to the stage to corral the singing Christmas trees, who were rummaging through the toys that were meant to be props. “Are those two boys always so disruptive?” she asked.
“Pretty much,” Mrs. Larkey said. “Such a shame when their father is so nice.”
“It’s none of my business, but…” She let the comment drop. None of her business was the operative phrase here.
“Okay, Christmas trees,” Mrs. Larkey said, “put down the toys and get back on the platform. You have to be ready to sing as soon as Santa Claus delivers the bad news to the reindeer.”
She turned back to Chrysie. “The sheriff does the best he can, but the boys are just too much for him.”
The Sheriff. Chrysie groaned inwardly. If she’d known the sheriff or any other lawman was even remotely connected to the pageant, she’d never have volunteered or let the girls participate. Better if the guy didn’t even know she existed.
She turned away just in time to see Danny’s brother crash into the Christmas tree they were using as the main prop. The tree rocked back and forth a second, then toppled to the floor, eliciting piercing squeals from the young girls who’d been standing under it and loud laughs from the boys.
Instinctively Chrysie grabbed the guilty child by the arm. “That was not funny, young man. You could have hurt someone.”
“Leggo of me. It was an accident.”
“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if you’d been practicing with the other reindeer.”
“Daddy!” The deafening holler played havoc on her eardrums.
The boy broke away from her and rushed down the steps, hurling himself into the arms of a cowboy who’d apparently come in the back door unnoticed.
A gorgeous, dark-haired hunk of a cowboy. Wouldn’t you know?
“Is there a problem?”
“Your son knocked over the Christmas tree.”
“It was an accident, Daddy.”
The cowboy walked up on the stage, looking tough and incredibly sexy. He rocked back on his heels and studied the tree. “Tree looks like it survived. Was anyone hurt?”
“Everyone’s fine, Sheriff McCain.” He’d directed the question at Chrysie, but Mrs. Larkey had rushed over and answered for her.
“Then I guess no harm was done.” The sheriff picked up the tree and set it in an upright position. “How’s that?” he said, standing back to see if the tree was straight.
Mrs. Larkey smiled up at him as if he’d accomplished some miraculous act. “It looks perfect, Sheriff McCain.”
The woman was married, and the guy still had her eating out of his hands. Chrysie stepped between Mrs. Larkey and the sheriff. “Actually, it’s not quite perfect. It’s leaning toward the left.”
Mrs. Larkey looked from the tree to Chrysie, then shook her head as if she thought Chrysie was wrong. But she gathered the children and sent them back to their places.
The sheriff ignored the tree and looked Chrysie right in the eye. “Everything looks fine to me.”
“The tree is leaning.”
“If you say so.” He adjusted the angle. “Does that suit you? If not, I can always move it another fiftieth of an inch.”
“Now it’s leaning to the right.”
He eyed it critically. “Looks straight to me, but maybe I’m just not quite as uptight about Christmas trees as you.”
“It was straight before—” She caught herself before she said more. It was the stress of the situation that was getting to her, stress that had nothing to do with Christmas or the sheriff’s son. “Tree’s fine,” she said, then turned her back on him and walked away.
She could kick herself for having said anything at all to the man. Riling the sheriff was the last thing she needed. Keeping a low profile was the name of the game—and the game was staying alive.
“EAT YOUR CEREAL, Danny.”
“I am eating.”
“Eat faster. It’s snowing, and driving will be a…” Josh McCain bit back the word he would have used before the boys had come to live with him. Who’d have thought two small boys could turn his life totally upside down?
“Daddy, Davy’s slurping his hot chocolate, and my teacher said it’s bad manners to slurp.”
“That’s just when you’re at school, right, Daddy? Cowboys can slurp at home.”
“Best not to.” Josh grabbed a piece of cold toast as he passed the table. He only managed to wolf down one bite before his cell phone jangled.
“Sheriff McCain.”
“Sheriff, this is Cindy Gathers. I really hate to call you with this, but you’re going to have to find someone else to keep the boys after school. I thought I could handle it, but it’s just too much on me what with my arthritis and all.”
He groaned. It was the fourth sitter he’d lost in six months. The boys went through them almost as fast as they went through a box of cereal.
“I hope you can give me time to find another sitter before you bail on me.”
“I’m sorry about this, Sheriff, real sorry, but I just don’t think I can handle them another day. You know how it is. I love them, but they just don’t mind. It’s worse than riding herd over wild horses.”
“They’re just being boys.”
Danny jumped down from the table and went tearing down the hall with Davy hot on his trail.
