Love in Hiding
Diane Holiday
LOVE IN HIDING
By
Diane Holiday
Copyright © 2017 Diane Holiday
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Edited by Mary Cain.
Cover Design by Tina Moss.
All stock photos licensed appropriately.
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Published in the United States by City Owl Press.
www.cityowlpress.com
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For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher at [email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior consent and permission of the publisher.
For Steve,
My husband, best friend, and biggest supporter
Praise for Diane Holiday
FIRST PLACE in 2015 Pages of the Heart Contest.
Golden Heart® Award Finalist 2016 for romantic suspense.
2016 Molly First Place in Romantic Suspense
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“Love Uncovered blends the tension of a high-stakes corruption case with the charm of a well-realized small-town setting to create a fun, fast-paced story.”
- Publisher’s Weekly
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“A fast-moving, exciting novel. The main characters are the perfect combination of charming and complex. This contemporary romance delivers electrifying heat between characters with a sprinkle of humor.”
- InD’tale, Tina Donovan
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“Diane Holiday's debut, Love in Hiding, kept me hooked from the first page to the last.”
- USA Today Bestselling Author of Historical Romance, Renee Ann Miller
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“A strong heroine, sexy hero and downright scream-worthy villains—a page-turner with spunky dialogue and suspense that kept me up way past my bedtime because I just couldn't put it down.”
- Contemporary Romance Author and Golden Heart® Award Finalist, Christina Hovland
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“Love in Hiding combines the laid-back atmosphere of country life with the suspense angle of a crazed stalker beautifully. Great characterization, perfect pacing and witty dialogue top off this exceptional read.”
- Contemporary Romance Author, Jessie Gussman
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“Solid storytelling featuring a classic hero and a daring heroine.”
- New Adult Author and Golden Heart® Award Winner, C.R. Grissom
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“A man scarred by guilt, a feisty woman, and a villain who is totally evil make Diane Holiday’s Love Uncovered a fast-paced read that sizzles with both romance and suspense.”
- USA Today Bestselling Author of Historical Romance, Renee Ann Miller
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“Diane Holiday’s well-crafted romantic suspense stories keep readers turning the pages, ready for the next twist! I always look forward to her books.”
- Contemporary Romance Author and Golden Heart® Award Finalist, Christina Hovland
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“Holiday writes romantic suspense with just the right balance of heart and heart-pounding action.”
- USA Today Bestselling Author, Dylann Crush
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“Love on the Line is an excellent story in the vein of time-honored romance--suspense, love, and characters who keep you turning the pages.”
- Contemporary Romance Author and Golden Heart® Award Finalist, Christina Hovland
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“Two people looking for the opposite things in life find out they might be a perfect match. But danger lurks when they fall under the spotlight of a madman. Love on the Line is a suspenseful read.”
- USA Today Bestselling Author of Historical Romance, Renee Ann Miller
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“Love on the Line delivers a romantic suspense with strong characters you’ll remember long after you read the last page.”
- New Adult Author and Golden Heart® Award Winner, C.R. Grissom
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“Well-plotted, beautifully written and completely engrossing, Love on the Line is absolutely the best romantic suspense I've read this year.”
- Top-Ranking Author, Jessie Gussman
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“Both intense and hot, Love on the Line keeps readers flipping the pages! Sexy romance and thrilling suspense--there's nothing else one could ask for!”
-Young Adult Romance Author, Miguella Twosias
Love Beyond Danger Series
By Diane Holiday
Love in Hiding
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Love Uncovered
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Love on the Line
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Epilogue
Sneak Peek of Love Uncovered
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
Additional Titles
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Don’t miss book two of the Love Beyond Danger series with LOVE UNCOVERED and discover more from Diane Holiday at www.dianeholiday.com
Free-spirited Maddie Cooper never considered settling down—until Scott Fisher came into her life. But after her DEA agent left with nothing more than a broken promise, Maddie dug in deep with her first love: archaeology.
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She’s unearthed significant Native American artifacts at a site in the Finger Lakes, but a break-in at the storage facility jeopardizes everything. To make matters worse, the new detective assigned to the case is none other than DEA Agent Scott. As if the burglary and Scott’s reappearance isn’t enough, a ruthless developer has moved into town, and he wants Maddie to falsify her survey results. Deeply committed to the
preservation of history, she’s determined to bring down the developer without any help, least of all from her former lover.
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After a tragic loss, Scott gave up on all the things that brought light to his life, including Maddie. He doesn’t want her anywhere near the dark, dangerous world of his undercover job. But their worlds collide when Maddie secretly decides to take on Victor Mole. She has no idea Mole is a brutal drug lord and artifact smuggler. With time running out on Maddie’s survey, and her life at stake, if Scott can’t find a way to protect her, he risks all he’s worked for and the only woman he’s ever loved.
BUY NOW!
Chapter 1
If she hoped to live, Sarah Cooper needed to pull off the most convincing performance of her life.
A disappearing act.
The GPS’s robo-voice announced she’d arrived at her destination. A white wooden sign that read Oak Ridge Farms with a bucking black stallion marked the entrance. She glanced in the rearview mirror one last time to make sure no one had followed her. Tension eased from her stiff neck. She’d white-knuckled the drive on the freeway out of San Diego almost a week ago. At least the quiet country lanes in rural Maryland had prevented anyone from sneaking up on her.
She turned onto a tree-lined, dirt driveway, and her heart rate kicked up a notch.
This ranch was her last hope and the only job left that included room and board. No more sleeping cramped in her car.
She eyed the low-fuel light. The gas tank was as empty as her stomach. Nerves jitterbugged up her spine. She knew nothing about horses or farms. From the time she could walk, her life had been dance, dance, dance. Her slim build, perfect for ballet, wasn't an asset when interviewing for jobs requiring manual labor. None of the other jobs had panned out. She clenched her molars.
This interview would be different. It had to be.
Rocks and dirt crunched under the tires of the dinged-up Honda she’d bought. At some point, she’d owe a boatload of money to a parking garage in California where she’d abandoned her almost-new Toyota.
It didn’t matter. A dead woman had no use for a nice car.
She pulled up to a maroon and white-trimmed barn. In the distance, a sprawling, tan house sat atop a grassy hill. Horses grazed in spacious fields enclosed by brown, split-rail fences between the stables and woods. Open meadows stretched for miles.
Peace and freedom. What she wouldn’t give to have those again.
She took a deep breath, snatched the help-wanted ad from the seat beside her, and stepped out to find the owner. On her way toward the stables, she zipped her baggy jacket. Early May weather didn’t call for a coat, but with luck, her slight frame would look bigger, and Debbie wouldn’t worry about hiring someone too small to do the work.
A gust of wind blew the newspaper clipping out of her hand. The scrap skittered along the dirt, and she lunged to grab it. Her fingers touched the edge but another gust set the paper back in flight. She scrambled, rounding the corner of the barn, and smacked headfirst into a pair of booted legs. The impact threw her back, and she landed on her butt. Her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in before logic, and she tensed.
Her gaze climbed and climbed before reaching a man’s face shadowed by the brim of a navy ball cap with a Wounded Warrior emblem. Electric blue eyes stared down at her with such intensity her breath caught.
“Are you okay?” He offered a hand.
God no, but she couldn’t tell him that. “Yes.”
Her first lie of the day.
One flex of his strong forearm and she found herself on her feet again. She’d never had one of her dance partners lift her up with such ease. Or grace. But something told her if she called this guy graceful, he wouldn’t take it as a compliment.
He stepped back and crossed his arms. “Can I help you?”
She glanced up at his still-shadowed face, from his chiseled chin to the jagged scar at the edge of his right cheekbone. Thick, corded muscles lined his neck, and broad shoulders stretched his camouflage T-shirt. No doubt, physical work shaped his body, not a weight room.
His guarded eyes seemed to see right through her.
She forced herself not to squirm.
The breeze blew the clean fragrance of soap and leather toward her. She inhaled the pure, masculine scent, getting a little lightheaded.
He cleared his throat.
She jumped and mentally slapped herself, kicking her libido to the backseat. With her life in danger, she needed to stay focused.
“I’m looking for Debbie. I called about the ad in the paper, and she told me to come out.” Sarah squared her shoulders and ignored the warmth rising to her cheeks.
He hitched an eyebrow. “You’re here to apply for the farmhand job?”
“Yes.” She nodded. Best to keep the conversation short. The doubt on his face only meant more questions and possible trouble. “Can you tell me where I might find Debbie?”
“She’s probably at the house for lunch.” He waved up the hill at a large rancher with a white wraparound porch. “And you are?”
“Sarah.” At least she’d kept her first name the same. Less chance of slipping up.
He held out his hand. “Bruce.”
When her palm pressed against his calloused one, a ripple of awareness passed through her.
Wheels crunched on the gravel behind them. She whipped her head around and froze, straining to make out the person behind the wheel. A woman emerged from the car, and Sarah heaved a big sigh.
A frown tugged at the corner of Bruce’s mouth. “That’s some grip you have.”
She jerked her hand away and bit her cheek. Not five minutes on the premises and she’d panicked. She couldn’t blow this chance. The small horse farm, located on the opposite coast from California, would make her hard to find. Sure, she’d have to learn about horses, but the job didn’t call for any experience.
“Should I wait here for Debbie to come back?”
He adjusted his cap. “I was just headed up. I’ll take you to find her.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Although, she’d rather not spend any more time with the man.
She turned to follow him and stepped into a rut. He whipped an arm out and steadied her before she fell. Damn. Another wave of heat burned a path to her face. She’d have to watch her footing and calm her nerves around this guy or he’d think her a total klutz. The furthest thing from the truth.
He drew his hand back and glanced at her mud-caked tennis shoes but said nothing. She’d need boots if she got the job, which might be a stretch given her rocky start.
“Why do you want to work here? You don’t look like a typical farmhand,” Bruce asked as they trekked across the field.
“I need a job, and this one includes room and board. My lease is up.” Only a half lie because she did need the work. She’d better change the subject. “Do you keep a horse here?”
He nodded. “Yes. But I also run a therapy program at the farm.”
Sweat trickled down the side of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder. Every step farther from her car tightened the knot in her stomach. At least she had her gun in her purse. Not that she’d learned to shoot it yet.
Bruce climbed the steps leading to the porch. A couple of wooden rockers and a wicker table with two chairs sat under the shade of the roof. An orange tabby cat, rolled into a lazy ball, slept in the far corner.
“Deb, you there?” Bruce called through the screen door.
“Come on in,” yelled a woman with a gruff, husky voice. “I got plenty of soup. You hungry?”
He shot a glance at Sarah and opened the door, holding it wide for her. “No, thanks.”
Sarah entered the house. The scent of biscuits wafted through the room, and her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten since last night. Her body ran on nothing but adrenaline now.
Sun streamed through a bay window in the airy, open kitchen. Hanging plants dangled over clay containers of fresh herbs on the ledge. A large pot simmered on the s
tove. Homey. She missed the feeling. Homey had ended for her at age fourteen when she’d left for the dance academy in New York.
Her gaze went to the windows. Neither the bay one nor the two over the sink had curtains. Anyone could see right in. She pressed a hand to her throat.
A woman with short brown hair, wearing jeans and a red flannel shirt, stood by the stove stirring soup. She glanced over her shoulder at them and placed a lid on the pot. Probably in her mid-fifties, though hard to tell with her deeply tanned skin, she had several inches and a good thirty pounds on Sarah.
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