Kentucky Confidential

by Paula Graves

  With reluctance, Risa released the infant into the nurse’s care, reaching for Connor’s hand. “Do you think you could go with her? After everything we’ve just gone through, I don’t like letting her out of our sight.”

  He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Risa tried to relax, her body aching with overall weariness, beyond the physical ordeal of giving birth. She knew she was probably being overly anxious—the hospital was one of the best in the state, and everyone she’d talked to during her labor had assured her there was ample security in the neonatal unit as well as the nursery.

  Connor was back a minute later. “Quinn is here.”

  Risa frowned. “Why aren’t you with the baby?”

  “They wouldn’t let me go into the neonatal unit, but Quinn brought Eric Brannon, so he suited up and went to stand guard. He has a license to practice medicine in Kentucky, so it’s sort of a professional courtesy thing, apparently.”

  “Are you sure we can trust him?”

  “Maddox Heller says yes, and I trust Heller.”

  She caught Connor’s hand, tugging it up to her chest. “And I trust you.”

  Connor pulled up a chair and sat by the bed, leaning closer. “I love you.”

  “I love you.” She touched his face, relished the rasp of his beard growth against her fingers. “We have a daughter.”

  His smile was like sunlight. “We do.”

  “What do you want to name her?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “I didn’t know I was going to be a father until a few days ago, and I was a little preoccupied with other issues.”

  “I have to admit, I really thought she was going to be a boy.” She sighed. “So most of my best name ideas were boy names.”

  “We could name her after your mother.”

  She made a face. “Nazina? My mother doesn’t even like her name that much.”

  “My mother?”

  “You know I love Shirley, but...”

  Connor grinned. “It’s a little dated.”

  “One of the boy names I liked was Kyle,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Maybe we could feminize it. How does Kylie sound?”

  He tried it out. “Kylie McGinnis.”

  “Flows well.”

  He smiled. “It does. Kylie Parisa McGinnis.”

  Risa wrinkled her nose. “We’ll work on the middle name.”

  He bent and kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep. Kylie will be back in here, looking for an early breakfast before you know it.”

  Sinking a little deeper into her pillows, Risa closed her eyes and dreamed.

  Epilogue

  Christmas morning came complete with a light dusting of snow outside the Sunset Lodges cabin where Connor and Risa had returned after she and tiny Kylie were released from the hospital. She’d given two hours of testimony by video feed from the Meade Motor Inn to Senator Blackledge’s panel shortly after she and the baby had been cleared to leave the hospital, then joined a convoy of both Cooper Security and Campbell Cove Security Services agents back to the mountain cabin still booked through New Year’s Eve.

  “Your apartment isn’t set up for a new baby,” Maddox had told Connor when he bundled them into the Durango for the trip back to Sunset Mountain. “Iris is going to go shopping for the things you’ll need back home. I think Evie Cooper’s got you covered until New Year’s Eve at the cabin. Just relax. Enjoy Christmas with your family.”

  By family, it turned out, Maddox had meant more than just Risa and their newborn. Connor’s parents as well as Risa’s were waiting for them at the cabin. Nazina and Benton DeVille were in tears at their first sight of the daughter they thought they’d lost, but it didn’t take long for them to transfer a large chunk of their joy to their introduction to their first grandchild.

  The past few days had been chaotic, if full of joy, but Connor was happy that he and little Kylie were the first ones up on Christmas morning.

  He soothed the mewling infant as he carried her into the large living room, where the first glow of sunrise tinted the eastern sky. The Coopers had gifted them with more than just the baby gear they needed for Kylie while they were staying in the cabin. They’d also trimmed the tree with small, sparkling lights that glowed like stars in the gray morning light when he flicked the power switch.

  “I don’t think you can see the twinkles yet, baby girl, but one day, when you see a big tree like this, decorated with lights and garland, you’re going to be overcome with happiness.” He kissed the fuzzy crown of her head. “And greed. But we’ll deal with that when it happens.”

  “Life lessons with Daddy?” Risa’s raspy voice made him turn toward the doorway, where he found her mussed and sleepy-eyed, leaning against the wooden frame.

  “Something like that.” He watched with sympathy as she hobbled toward him, still a little sore from the birth. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Yeah, I got some. You?”

  “Some.” He rubbed his cheek against Kylie’s head. “I guess it’s Mommy time, baby girl. She’s the one with the milk.”

  Risa settled in the padded rocking chair near the window and reached for Kylie. Connor handed her over and perched on the window seat beside the rocker while she unbuttoned the front of her nightshirt and guided Kylie to her breast.

  With greedy grunts, the baby began to feed, and Risa lifted her gaze to Connor’s. “I’m trying really hard to relax, but it’s difficult to shake the feeling that I need to be running and hiding.”

  “I know. You’ve been at it a long time. But everyone we talked to agreed that you should be safe, now that you’ve given your testimony. And Campbell Cove Security is going to give us protection for a few weeks, just to be sure.”

  “I wonder if my testimony is enough to stop whatever Garrett Leland and his cohort were planning for Kaziristan.” Risa frowned. “Every time things seem to be going the way of the democratic reformers, something always happens to set them back.”

  “Rebecca Cameron told me she’s going to be heading a task force at Campbell Cove Security to look a little deeper into what happened with Akwat. She asked me if I thought you’d like to be part of that task force.”

  “You mean work for them?”

  “It’s a good place to work. We’re doing important things there.”

  She looked down at Kylie. “I can’t make that decision right now. All I can think about is our little family.”

  “There’s time.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with tears. “I’m really happy our families are here to share this Christmas with us, but I sort of wish it was just us. We have so much to talk through.”

  He didn’t pretend he didn’t know what she meant. “You know, I think we could get ourselves tangled up in all the mistakes and all the choices we made, right or wrong. We could turn this whole thing into a bigger mess without much trouble.”

  Risa made a face. “I don’t want that.”

  “So let’s not. I just need to know one thing. Do you love me?”

  She touched his hand where it lay on his knee. “God, yes.”

  “And I love you.”

  She gave his hand a squeeze. “I know.”

  “We want to be together as a family. You, me, Kylie and whatever children we might have in the future, yes?”

  She smiled, tears sparkling in her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Then let’s make it happen. Whatever it takes.” He leaned over and kissed her, then brushed his lips across Kylie’s head. “It’s always been how we do things, isn’t it?”

  She touched his face, her fingers soft but strong. “Yes.” Then she pulled him toward her for a longer, deeper kiss.

  The sound of stirring down the hall filtered thr
ough Connor’s haze of happiness. The rumble of his father’s voice made him smile and groan at the same time. “Grandparent alert.”

  Risa laughed softly. “Don’t complain. We might be glad to have them hovering around once the sleep deprivation starts to kick in.”

  Giving Risa one more swift kiss, Connor turned to wish his parents happy Christmas.

  The best Christmas ever.

  * * * * *

  Campbell Cove Academy is just heating up!

  Look for THE GIRL WHO CRIED MURDER,

  the newest book in award-winning author

  Paula Graves’s miniseries

  CAMPBELL COVE ACADEMY,

  available next month.

  You’ll find it wherever

  Harlequin Intrigue books are sold!

  Every cowboy has a wild side—

  all it takes is the right woman to unleash it...

  Keep reading for a sneak peek of

  BLAME IT ON THE COWBOY,

  part of USA TODAY bestselling author

  Delores Fossen’s miniseries

  THE McCORD BROTHERS.

  Available in October 2016

  only from HQN Books!

  Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003

  Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!

  Do you want to earn Free Books and More?

  Join Harlequin My Rewards points program and earn points every time you shop.

  You can redeem your points to get more of what you love:

  Free books

  Exclusive gifts and contests

  Book recommendations tailored to your reading preferences

  Earn 2000 points instantly when you join—getting you closer to redeeming your first free book.

  Don’t miss out. Reward the book lover in you!

  Click here to sign up

  Or visit us online to sign up at

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Intrigue story.

  You crave excitement! Harlequin Intrigue stories deal in serious romantic suspense, keeping you on the edge of your seat as resourceful, true-to-life women and strong, fearless men fight for survival.

  Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Intrigue every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  Blame It on the Cowboy

  by Delores Fossen

  LIARS AND CLOWNS. Logan had seen both tonight. The liar was a woman who he thought loved him. Helene. And the clown, well... Logan wasn’t sure he could process that image just yet.

  Maybe after lots of booze though.

  He hadn’t been drunk since his twenty-first birthday, nearly thirteen years ago. But he was about to remedy that now. He motioned for the bartender to set him up another pair of Glenlivet shots.

  His phone buzzed again, indicating another call had just gone to voice mail. One of his siblings no doubt wanting to make sure he was all right. He wasn’t. But talking to them about it wouldn’t help, and Logan didn’t want anyone he knew to see or hear him like this.

  It was possible there’d be some slurring involved. Puking, too.

  He’d never been sure what to call Helene. His longtime girlfriend? Girlfriend seemed too high school. So, he’d toyed with thinking of her as his future fiancée. Or in social situations—she was his business associate who often ran his marketing campaigns. But tonight Logan wasn’t calling her any of those things. As far as he was concerned, he never wanted to think of her, her name or what to call her again.

  Too bad that image of her was stuck in his head, but that was where he was hoping generous amounts of single-malt scotch would help.

  Even though Riley, Claire, Lucky and Cassie wouldn’t breathe a word about this, it would still get around town. Lucky wasn’t sure how, but gossip seemed to defy the time-space continuum in Spring Hill. People would soon know, if they didn’t already, and those same people wouldn’t look at him the same again. It would hurt business.

  Hell. It hurt him.

  That was why he was here in this hotel bar in San Antonio. It was only thirty miles from Spring Hill, but tonight he hoped it’d be far enough away that no one he knew would see him get drunk. Then he could stagger to his room and then puke in peace. Not that he was looking forward to the puking part, but it would give him something else to think about other than her.

  It was his first time in this hotel, though he stayed in San Antonio often on business. Logan hadn’t wanted to risk running into anyone he knew, and he certainly wouldn’t at this trendy “boutique” place. Not with a name like the Purple Cactus and its vegan restaurant.

  If the staff found out he was a cattle broker, he might be booted out. Or forced to eat tofu. That was the reason Logan had used cash when he checked in. No sense risking someone recognizing his name from his credit card.

  The clerk had seemed to doubt him when Logan had told him that his ID and credit cards had been stolen and that was why he couldn’t produce anything with his name on it. Of course, when Logan had slipped the guy an extra hundred-dollar bill, it had caused that doubt to disappear.

  “Drinking your troubles away?” a woman asked.

  “Trying.”

  Though he wasn’t drunk enough that he couldn’t see what was waiting for him at the end of this. A hangover, a missed 8:00 a.m. meeting, his family worried about him—the puking—and it wouldn’t fix anything other than to give him a couple hours of mind-numbing solace.

  At the moment though, mind-numbing solace, even if it was temporary, seemed like a good trade-off.

  “Me, too,” she said. “Drinking my troubles away.”

  Judging from the sultry tone in her voice, Logan first thought she might be a prostitute, but then he got a look at her.

  Nope. Not a pro.

  Or if she was, she’d done nothing to market herself as such. No low-cut dress to show her cleavage. She had on a T-shirt with cartoon turtles on the front, a baggy white skirt and flip-flops. It looked as if she’d grabbed the first items of clothing she could find off a very cluttered floor of her very cluttered apartment.

  Logan wasn’t into clutter.

  And he’d thought Helene wasn’t, either. He’d been wrong about that, too. That antique desk of hers had been plenty cluttered with a clown’s bare ass.

  “Mind if I join you?” Miss Turtle-Shirt said. “I’m having sort of a private going-away party.”

  She waited until Logan mumbled “suit yourself,” and she slid onto the purple bar stool next to him.

  She smelled like limes.

  Her hair was varying shades of pink and looked as if it’d been cut with a weed whacker. It was already messy, but apparently it wasn’t messy enough for her because she dragged her hand through it, pushing it away from her face.

  “Tequila, top-shelf. Four shots and a bowl of lime slices,” she told the bartender.

  Apparently, he wasn’t the only person in San Antonio with plans to get drunk tonight. And it explained the lime scent. These clearly weren’t her first shots of the night.

  “Do me a favor though,” she said to Logan after he downed his next drink. “Don’t ask my name, or anything personal about me, and I’ll do the same for you.”

  Logan had probably never agreed to anything so fast in all his life. For one thing, he really didn’t
want to spend time talking with this woman, and he especially didn’t want to talk about what’d happened.

  “If you feel the need to call me something, go with Julia,” she added.

  The name definitely wasn’t a fit. He was expecting something more like Apple or Sunshine. Still, he didn’t care what she called herself. Didn’t care what her real name was, either, and he cared even less after his next shot of Glenlivet.

  “So, you’re a cowboy, huh?” she asked.

  The mind-numbing hadn’t kicked in yet, but the orneriness had. “That’s personal.”

  She shrugged. “Not really. You’re wearing a cowboy hat, cowboy boots and jeans. It was more of an observation than a question.”

  “The clothes could be fashion statements,” he pointed out.

  Julia shook her head, downed the first shot of tequila, sucked on a lime slice. Made a face and shuddered. “You’re not the kind of man to make fashion statements.”

  If he hadn’t had a little buzz going on, he might have been insulted by that. “Unlike you?”

  She glanced down at her clothes as if seeing them for the first time. Or maybe she was just trying to focus because the tequila had already gone to her head. “This was the first thing I grabbed off my floor.”

  Bingo. If that was her first grab, there was no telling how bad things were beneath it.

  Julia tossed back her second shot. “Have you ever found out something that changed your whole life?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” About four hours ago.

  “Me, too. Without giving specifics, because that would be personal, did it make you feel as if fate were taking a leak on your head?”

  “Five leaks,” he grumbled. Logan finished off his next shot.

  Julia made a sound of agreement. “I would compare yours with mine, and I’d win, but I don’t want to go there. Instead, let’s play a drinking game.”