Brenda Harlen - Double Duty For The Cowboy

A marriage of convenience...

Turns into the love of their lives!

When Regan Channing finds herself in the family way, the last thing she expects is for another man to make her his wife! Especially not former bad boy Connor Neal. But Connor’s changed. Pretty soon Regan’s newborn twins have him wrapped around their fingers. And the electricity sizzling between Connor and Regan could power Haven for days. But can the deputy’s debt of obligation ever become true love?

BRENDA HARLENis a former lawyer who once had the privilege of appearing before the Supreme Court of Canada. The practice of law taught her a lot about the world and reinforced her determination to become a writer—because in fiction, she could promise a happy ending! Now she is an award-winning, RITA® Award–nominated national bestselling author of more than thirty titles for Mills & Boon. You can keep up-to-date with Brenda on Facebookand Twitteror through her website, brendaharlen.com.

Also by Brenda Harlen

The Sheriff’s Nine-Month Surprise HerSeven-Day FiancéSix Weeks to Catch a CowboyClaiming the Cowboy’s Heart

A Wife for One YearThe Daddy WishA Forever Kind of FamilyThe Bachelor Takes a BrideTwo Doctors & a BabyBuilding the Perfect Daddy

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Double Duty for the Cowboy

Brenda Harlen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09108-4

DOUBLE DUTY FOR THE COWBOY

© 2019 Brenda Harlen

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 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

Version: 2020-03-02

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

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 Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue

It had been a fairly quiet week in Haven, and Connor Neal was grateful that trend seemed to be continuing on this Friday night of the last long weekend of summer. Sometimes the presence of law enforcement was enough to deter trouble, so the deputy had parked his patrol car in front of Diggers’ Bar & Grill and strolled along Main Street.

There was a crowd gathered outside Mann’s Theater, moviegoers waiting for the early show to let out so they could find their seats for the late viewing. Construction workers were sawing and hammering inside The Stagecoach Inn, preparing the old building for its grand reopening early in the New Year. Half a dozen vehicles were parked by The Trading Post; several people lingered over coffee and conversation at The Daily Grind.

He waved at Glenn Davis, as the owner of the hardware store locked up, then resumed his journey. Making his way back toward Diggers’, he heard the unmistakable sound of retching. Apparently, patrol tonight was going to include chauffeur service for at least one inebriated resident, which was preferable to letting a drunk navigate the streets. He only hoped that whoever would be getting into the backseat of his car for the ride home had thoroughly emptied their stomach first.

He followed the sound around to the side of the building, where he discovered a nicely shaped derriere in a short navy skirt, beneath the hem of which stretched long, shapely legs. He felt a familiar tug low in his belly that immediately identified the owner of those sexy legs—it was the same reaction he had whenever he was in close proximity to Regan Channing.

She braced a hand on the brick and slowly straightened up, and he could see that she wore a tailored shirt in a lighter shade of blue with the skirt, and her long blond hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She turned around then, and her eyes—an intriguing mix of green and gray—widened with surprise.

Her face was pale and drawn, her cheekbones sharply defined, her lips full and perfectly shaped. It didn’t seem to matter that she’d been throwing up in the bushes, Regan Channing was still—to Connor’s mind—the prettiest girl in all of Haven, Nevada.

She pulled a tissue out of her handbag and wiped her mouth.

He gave her a moment to compose herself before he said, “Are you okay?”

“No.” She shook her head, those gorgeous eyes filling with tears. “But thanks for asking.”

He waited a beat, but apparently she didn’t intend to say anything more on the subject. He took the initiative again. “Can I give you a ride home?”

“No need,” she said. “I’ve got my car.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t think you should be driving.”

“I’m feeling a lot better now—really,” she told him.

“I’m glad,” he said. “But I can’t let you get behind the wheel in your condition.”

“My condition?” she echoed, visibly shaken by his remark. “How do you know—” she cut herself off, shaking her head again. “You don’t know. You think I’ve been drinking.”