Jacqueline Diamond - Daddy Protector

“Which you’re not?” Hale asked sweetly.

Connie felt heat rise to her cheeks and to cover it grabbed a roll of pressure bandage and began winding it around his foot. “Don’t call me angel. Or honey bunch or any of your other smarmy endearments.”

“Smarmy?” he echoed.

“Naive women must melt when you shower them with phony compliments. Well, not me!” She smacked the end of the bandage so it clung without requiring adhesive.

He flinched. Connie felt guilty, but not enough to apologize.

“Okay, okay.” Hale shrugged. “I have a naturally flirtatious manner. Don’t take it personally.”

“Exactly my point!”

Dear Reader,

I loved telling the story of Connie and Hale, next-door neighbors who drive each other crazy. They’re opposites in many ways, but dramatic events reveal the underlying values they hold in common. And then there’s that sizzling attraction they’ve fought so hard to suppress, breaking forth at last!

I also enjoyed weaving in the details of Hale’s work as a police detective. This is the second of three related books I’ve written featuring two policemen and a policewoman.

Hope you enjoy the continuing stories of Connie, her friend Rachel and her cousin Marta. Still to come is a book in which Marta, who’s struggled for years to recover from a serious accident, finds happiness with the seemingly unattainable man of her dreams.

For details, reviews and information on future books, please visit my Web site, www.jacquelinediamond.com. Hope to see you there!

Best,

Daddy Protector

Jacqueline Diamond

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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A former Associated Press reporter, Jacqueline Diamond has written more than sixty novels and received a Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times BOOKreviews. Jackie lives in Southern California with her husband, two sons and two cats. You can e-mail her at jdiamondfriends@aol.comor visit her Web site at www.jacquelinediamond.com.

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

913—THE IMPROPERLY PREGNANT PRINCESS

962—DIAGNOSIS: EXPECTING BOSS’S BABY

971—PRESCRIPTION: MARRY HER IMMEDIATELY

978—PROGNOSIS: A BABY? MAYBE

1046—THE BABY’S BODYGUARD

1075—THE BABY SCHEME

1094—THE POLICE CHIEF’S LADY *

1101—NINE-MONTH SURPRISE *

1109—A FAMILY AT LAST *

1118—DAD BY DEFAULT *

1130—THE DOCTOR + FOUR *

1149—THE DOCTOR’S LITTLE SECRET

To Beverley Sotolov and Jennifer Green.

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

Hale Crandall really ought to put on some clothes. He looked fantastic without them, though, in Connie’s opinion.

Sweat spread a bronze sheen across his rugged chest and face, from which exertion had stripped the customary know-it-all grin. A fierce, driving leap…breath coming hard…intensity turning his brown eyes to near-black…

Then he missed the softball, stumbled across the grass from his yard and plowed headfirst into the pansies and marigolds in Connie’s flower bed. As she drove up, her amusement mutated into annoyance at her havoc-wreaking neighbor.

Muttering under her breath, she pulled her maroon sedan into the driveway and stomped on the brake. She yanked the door handle too hard, resulting in a chipped fingernail. Well, great! Not exactly Hale’s fault, but she felt even more irked at him, anyway.

As she marched along the sidewalk—no sense ruining her strappy high heels or her lawn by taking the shortest route—she ignored the group of boys, assorted ages and states of griminess, who’d stopped playing to check on their ringleader. Why weren’t they spending a Saturday in June doing something useful, like studying? Although Connie didn’t have any children, she volunteered to tutor kids struggling in school, and knew how many of them blew off their assignments.

She stopped a few feet away from her neighbor. “Look at this mess! I hope you plan to replant those flowers.” She barely refrained from adding a well-deserved, “You idiot!”

A dirt-smeared Hale pushed himself onto the grass and retrieved a clot of nasturtiums from atop his thick, dark hair. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied with his customary sardonic edge.

With his taste for high jinks, she thought he might plant stink-weeds. “When you’re buying the plants, be sure to get the same colors and varieties,” she said. “It’s the least you can do.”

Rising, Hale dusted himself off. “I’ll have my butler make a note.” One of the boys giggled.

“Don’t get smart with me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As he turned away, Connie tried not to stare at his well-muscled bare back. Sure, Hale Crandall was one fine specimen of masculinity. Unfortunately, in her book, that too often meant thickheaded and irresponsible.

The problem was his resemblance to her ex-husband, Joel, Hale’s best friend and fellow cop at the Villazon, California, Police Department. Together, the two overgrown adolescents had contributed to the breakup of her marriage. The only thing she’d snagged from the wreckage had been a pitiful monthly alimony check and this house—right next to Hale’s.

“Hey, guys. Game’s over!” As he headed for the porch, Hale waggled one hand at his followers, who dispersed reluctantly.

Connie retrieved her purse from the car. She had only an hour to grab an early dinner before returning to the gift shop she owned, since she’d agreed to let Jo Anne Larouche, her clerk, leave at five for personal reasons.

Her mother would have scolded Connie for being too soft on an employee. But in her opinion, treating workers well kept them loyal. And she was willing to work long hours if that’s what success required.

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a straggler trailing into Hale’s house, a wiry little boy with blond hair. Darned if he didn’t bear a strong resemblance to Skip Enright, the six-year-old she tutored at the town’s homework center. Co-founded by a retired teacher and by a close friend of Connie’s, the after-school-and-weekend operation used volunteers to help kids master reading and math.

Just before the boy disappeared indoors, a cobalt gleam flashed from the heels of his running shoes. She’d bought Skip a pair exactly like those to celebrate his successful completion of first grade. Not only were they expensive, but she’d found them during a buying trip to L.A. That left no doubt in her mind about his identity.