Julie Kistler - Hot Prospect

“I’ll just…” Zoë choked. “I’ll just turn around.” How the hell could she pose as a newlywed with this guy?

“Uh, you do that…” he mumbled.

She spun around on the changing-room bench so fast she got a splinter in her bottom through her underpants. Blushing, she managed to scramble into the yoga pants, jacket and shoes. Three seconds tops. But she could still hear the sound of his unzipping and rustling and stripping behind her.

Torture, plain and simple.

Fully clothed, Zoë stood. “Ready?” she inquired trying to sound casual, while the image of Jake’s naked chest and his hand snaking over his zipper remained branded in her brain.

Her gaze skittered over to his side of the room. Wowza.

Jake didn’t wear underwear. No tighty whities. No boxers. Nada. And he had a great butt. One of the all-time-great butts. She was going to be haunted by it for the rest of her life.

Zoë flushed. His bare pecs and abs, his butt, all within the past five minutes.

How was she ever going to survive this fake honeymoon?

Dear Reader,

As we kick off a special anniversary year for Temptation, I’m thrilled that my three TRUE BLUE CALHOUNS get to share in the excitement!

I love a heroic hero, and I don’t think you can do better than men who are willing to take the heat, whether that heat comes from family, job or…love. So I’ve had a blast working with this trio of brothers who happen to be Chicago cops.

There’s big brother Jake, definitely True Blue in Hot Prospect. When by-the-book Jake runs into Zoë Kidd, he doesn’t realize that she just may be the perfect foil for him. But it’s when you throw curves at a straight arrow that the fun begins!

And then you’ll meet middle brother Sean, more of a rebel, in Cut to the Chase. This detective has an uncanny knack for piercing to the heart of things, but Abra Holloway, on the lam and in trouble, is in no mood to be discovered or uncovered.

Last up is baby bro Cooper, who starts Packing Heat in order to wrestle with uncompromising FBI agent Violet O’Leary. Violet’s handcuffs may just come in handy when it comes to apprehending her man.

Lust, larceny and lawmen in love! What could be more fun?

I hope you’ll visit my Web site at www.juliekistler.com to drop me a note or let me know what you think. And I hope you’ll fall a little bit in love with the TRUE BLUE CALHOUNS, just as I did!

Best,

Julie Kistler

Hot Prospect

Julie Kistler

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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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

JAKE CALHOUN CAST a jaded eye at the noisy tourists milling around Chicago’s Navy Pier. Lots of people. But not the one he was looking for.

“Where are you, Dad?” he muttered. Damn it, anyway. The last thing Jake needed to be doing this fine summer day was playing spy games with his dad. Especially when he was supposed to be halfway to Wisconsin by now, halfway to an actual vacation, his first in a long time.

But Jake knew the drill. Duty. Loyalty. Responsibility. Those were the words he lived by. So when his father had called and growled, “Meet me at Navy Pier. Ferris wheel. Now,” Jake knew his vacation would have to take a back seat.

“Meet him at the Ferris wheel,” he grumbled. “What sense does that make?” He ground his hands into the pockets of his jeans, casting a quick glance up at the carefree people laughing and waving as they rolled around on the big ol’ wheel. He shook his head. Nope. It made no sense.

“Where is he?” Jake’s frown deepened as he cased the pier one more time. This was so strange. And so very unlike his father. Since when did gruff, by-the-book Michael Calhoun, one of five deputy superintendents of police for the city of Chicago, in line to be First Deputy, set up secret meetings at Ferris wheels in the middle of the day? And since when did Michael Calhoun need his son’s help for anything more important than painting the garage or driving Grandma Calhoun to the dentist?

None of this made sense. Jake’s feeling of foreboding just kept inching higher. And it didn’t get any lower when he finally caught sight of his dad. “A coat?” Jake said out loud. “It’s got to be a hundred degrees out here, and he’s wearing a freakin’ trench coat.”

Add up the coat, an equally ridiculous hat pulled down over his brow, and his studious attempt to appear nonchalant, and the senior Mr. Calhoun might as well have stenciled “suspicious” on his forehead. He was sitting on a bench, staring out into Lake Michigan, looking like any run-of-the-mill criminal waiting to make a drop. Sheesh. The man was a career cop. He knew better.

“You’ve even got a briefcase,” Jake said in disbelief as he neared his dad. “What are you doing?”

“Ssshhh. Sit down. Don’t look at me. Don’t let on you know me.”

Jake folded his arms over his chest. “Aw, c’mon, Dad. Whatever game you’re playing, it’s not working.”

His father snapped, “Sit down and shut up.”

When Michael Calhoun spoke in that tone, his sons knew better than to buck him. Reluctantly Jake took a seat on the other end of the bench, stared out toward the lake and waited for an explanation.

“So?” he tried eventually, feeling like an idiot for not looking at his father as he spoke to him. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“You in a hurry?”

“I’d really like to get this show on the road and get it over with. Sean and Coop are probably already at the fishing cabin, wondering what the heck happened to me,” Jake reminded him.

“Screw your vacation,” his dad said sharply. “Your brothers can wait. I got a problem. It needs to be fixed, fast. And you’re the only one who can help.”

Jake didn’t know what to make of that. Sure, he was the oldest son. Sure, everybody knew that he and his father were cut from the same no-nonsense cloth, that they spoke the same language, that when he needed something done, Michael Calhoun turned to Jake first. But that didn’t usually involve mysterious meetings at the Navy Pier.

“What exactly is the nature of this problem?” Jake asked, in the same even tone he would’ve used to question a witness.

“A woman.”

Aw, jeez. His father had a problem with a woman? That he didn’t need to hear.

“Not what you think,” his dad said gruffly.

“I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“You better not be.” Exhaling sharply, Michael Calhoun leaned back into the bench. “You should know me better than that.”

No response necessary.

“Okay, so here it is. Some chick showed up out of the blue a few weeks ago,” he explained tersely, still not looking at Jake. “She says her name is Toni, and she says…”

He trailed off, and Jake had to prompt him. “And? What did she say?”

Finally his father began again. Staring straight ahead, he muttered, “She says she’s my daughter.”