Delores Fossen - One Night Standoff

THERE WAS NO WAY SHE COULD HIDE THE BUMP…

Lenora Whitaker never thought spending one night with U.S. marshal Clayton Caldwell would put them in the crosshairs of a killer. Connected to a protective custody case gone awry, they are both attacked, leaving Clayton with a damaging case of amnesia and forcing Lenora to go on the run.

After taking a bullet to save her life, Clayton is unable to remember Lenora or that he’s the father of her baby. But the moment he tracks her down, it’s clear the attraction is still there. Hiding out together on his Texas ranch, Clayton admires the way Lenora will do anything to protect her unborn baby. Connecting with the pregnant beauty also triggers the first hints of his past. A past that could mend their broken lives—or unearth secrets he’d be better off forgetting.

“This might help me remember.” His warm breath hit against her lips when he spoke.

And suddenly more than anything, Lenora wanted him to remember. Oh, and she wanted him to kiss her, too. Clayton might not have any memories of their one-night stand, but Lenora was well aware that he could set fires with his mouth.

He moved in closer. Closer. And she was just a breath away from kissing him again. Too bad she could already feel it and also too bad her body seemed to think this was foreplay, that Clayton would haul her off to bed again.

That wouldn’t happen.

Even if she desperately wanted it.

Her eyelids were already fluttering down, getting ready for that kiss, when Clayton stopped. It took her a moment to realize why. The baby was kicking, and with her body pressed against Clayton’s, he could feel it.

One Night

Standoff

USA TODAY Bestselling Author

Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why USA TODAY bestselling author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Marshal Clayton Caldwell—He must rely on broken memories and a mysterious woman, Lenora, to stay alive and outsmart a hired gun. Even though he’ll protect her with his life, he’s not sure he can trust her with his heart.

Lenora Whitaker—After a one-night stand with Clayton, Lenora realizes she’s pregnant. However, her secret past is catching up with her, and it puts Clayton, their baby and her in the crosshairs of a killer.

Kirby Granger—Clayton’s foster father who’s under investigation for an old murder.

Adam Riggs—He’s in jail awaiting trial for killing Lenora’s friend, but he could have hired assassins to take out Clayton and Lenora so they can’t testify against him.

James Britt—A Justice Department agent investigating the attempts to kill Lenora and Clayton, but he could have his own agenda.

Quentin Hewitt—Lenora’s former boss and a man she once thought she loved. He could have strong objections to Lenora’s involvement with Clayton.

Melvin Larson—Clayton’s biological father. He abandoned Clayton years ago but now he’s back.

Contents

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

Extract

Chapter One

Marshal Clayton Caldwell figured this could be bad.

He waited at the window and watched the woman exit the dark blue car that she’d just parked next to the Marshals Service building where he worked. She glanced around, but because of the other vehicles, there was no way she could have seen the black truck that eased to a stop about a half block up the street.

Clayton saw it, all right.

And he didn’t like the looks of this.

Had the driver of the truck followed her?

And if so, why?

Since Clayton had been at the second-floor window finishing his morning coffee and watching for his visitor to arrive, he’d been able to see the car and truck. Both unfamiliar. Not that he knew every vehicle in Maverick Springs, but the truck’s front license plate was obscured with mud or something. That, and the fact that the driver didn’t get out, made Clayton very uneasy.

Or maybe that was just a reaction to Lenora Whitaker’s visit.

Until the night before, he hadn’t heard from her since—well, just since. After nearly two months, Clayton had figured it’d stay that way.

“Everything okay?” Harlan McKinney asked. His fellow marshal and foster brother was seated in the corner of the desk-clogged room. Harlan’s attention was on some reports, but judging from his concerned look, he’d given Clayton a glance or two.

That’s when Clayton realized he’d slipped his hand over the Glock in his leather waist holster.

Old habits.

Sometimes he wished he could turn off this blasted LEO—law enforcement officer—alarm in his head, but he’d been a marshal for nearly a decade now. Too long to turn off alarms. Or to get a decent night’s sleep, for that matter.

“I’m not sure if everything’s okay,” Clayton answered. “I got a bad feeling about this.”

And that sent Harlan from his desk and to the window, where he looked out, as well.

Clayton waited, watching the wipers on the truck slash away the rain from the windshield. Not a gentle April shower. More like a downpour. But it wasn’t long before he heard the footsteps on the stairs. Not just ordinary footsteps, though.

Heels.

They really stood out in the building where all six of the marshals were male. There were female employees in the other parts of the building, but this time of day they rarely came to the second floor.

The woman stepped into the doorway of the squad room, her attention zooming right to Clayton.

Lenora.

Yeah, it was her, all right. She stood there, her damp shoulder-length brown hair clinging to the sides of her face. The water dripped from her raincoat and the umbrella she had clutched in her hand and splattered onto the floor.

“Clayton,” she said on a rise of breath.

Her gaze darted to Harlan, and she cleared her throat. Maybe because Harlan was just plain intimidating, with his linebacker-size body and hard lawman’s eyes. Thankfully, Clayton’s foster brother went back to his desk in the corner and pretended not to notice they were in the room.

“Marshal Caldwell,” Lenora corrected herself.

That surprised him. Women he’d had sex with didn’t usually get so formal after the fact. Of course, Lenora and he had only been together for that one night—and at one of the worst times in her life, to boot—but still she had to remember it.