Kara Lennox - One-Night Alibi

Walking away is not an option

It was one night. And it might have stayed that way for Elizabeth Downey if her steamy evening with Hudson Vale hadn’t been the same night her estranged father was murdered. Now she and Hudson—a cop who had arrested her father—are the prime suspects.

Forced to work together to clear their names, Elizabeth and Hudson must deal with their wildly different approaches. Worse, the simmering attraction between them won’t go away. As they race to untangle a web of deceit, the stakes get higher. Because not only do their lives depend on finding the truth, but so does this passion that’s turning into so much more.…

“You have to leave.”

The urgency had returned to Liz’s voice. “We can’t be seen together.”

“We’ve already been seen together,” Hudson said. “Your security man downstairs knows I came to see you. The valet at the wedding saw us leave together. You think cops won’t figure that out?”

Her face fell. She returned to the living room and more or less collapsed onto the sofa. Hudson sat in the chair opposite her.

“Maybe you better tell me everything,” he said. “Why would you want to kill Franklin Mandalay?”

“Because he’s my father. And we’re estranged. He is manipulative and controlling and a liar. And I’m his sole heir.” With that, her eyes filled with tears. “I have no idea why I keep crying. He was not a very nice man.”

Mandalay was her father? Hudson’s head spun. “I knew there was something off about that night,” he murmured. Then, louder, he said, “Tell me everything. All of it, Liz. If I get even a whiff of deception from you I’m going straight to the police.”

Dear Reader,

Any writer will tell you that coming up with the title of a book can be an excruciating process. For me, I usually begin writing with some lame title in place. Then, as I get to know my story and my characters, other titles will come to mind. By the time I send the manuscript to my editor, I’ll probably have a title I’m happy with.

Oh, but it doesn’t end there. Editors have their own ideas about titles, and every title undergoes a great deal of scrutiny. Does it fit the story? Is it the right tone? Does it sound like a Harlequin Superromance title? Will it fit on the cover nicely? Although the title usually is something all parties can agree to, often it is not the author’s original title.

One-Night Alibi is one of those titles that come up once in a blue moon. I had it before I even started the book. I love it because it tells you exactly what the book is about. It’s sexy and it’s suspenseful-sounding. Happily, the editors agreed with me on this one! I hope it caught your attention, too!

All best,

Kara Lennox

One-Night Alibi

Kara Lennox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kara Lennox has earned her living at various times as an art director, typesetter, textbook editor and reporter. She’s worked in a boutique, a health club and an ad agency. She’s been an antiques dealer, an artist and even a blackjack dealer. But no work has ever made her happier than writing romance novels. To date, she has written more than sixty books. Kara is a recent transplant to Southern California. When not writing, she indulges in an ever-changing array of hobbies. Her latest passions are bird-watching, long-distance bicycling, vintage jewelry and, by necessity, do-it-yourself home renovation. She loves to hear from readers. You can find her at www.karalennox.com.

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For Sally Slocum

Everyone should have such a wonderful mother-in-law

Contents

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

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

HUDSON VALE LIKED to brag that he never got sick. All the vitamin C in the Mountain Dew he drank kept him healthy as a horse. But today, he’d been made a liar. After sneezing his head off yesterday, he’d cut his shift early and gone home. A handful of extra vitamin C hadn’t done the trick; he’d awakened with the mother of all colds. His head hurt. His chest hurt. His throat hurt. He couldn’t breathe. And he had nothing resembling cold medicine in the house.

Like it or not, he had to drag himself out to his car, drive to the nearest convenience store and buy some Alka-Seltzer Plus.

Although it was October, Hudson didn’t bother with a jacket. He shoved his badge in the pocket of a pair of disreputable jeans because he never went anywhere without it. Breaking his usual pattern, he didn’t arm himself. In his current state of debilitation, he’d be more danger to bystanders than to anything he aimed at.

It was a brilliant, clear day outside, one of those rare instances when the humidity was low, the air crisp and fresh. Football season was in full swing, and citizens of the greater Houston area were focused on fall barbecues and tailgate parties.

Hudson climbed into his Datsun 280Z and headed for the local convenience store.

At this hour of a Sunday morning, most people were still in bed, sleeping off a wild Saturday night, or in church repenting for the same. But in an hour or two, the store would be filled with fishermen stocking up on bait and beer and charcoal briquettes, intent on wringing every ounce of recreation from the outstanding weather.

Hudson wished he could get out on the water today. But after sneezing four times in a row on the way to the store, he couldn’t think fondly of anything except his bed and a box of tissues.

As he got out of his car, he noticed a familiar-looking woman in a red miniskirt and white patent-leather boots talking on the pay phone outside. On seeing him, she turned to face the wall.

It wasn’t until he was inside the store, paying for his purchases, that he recalled her name. Jazz was a prostitute he’d arrested last year. Conroe had quite a few working girls, but most of them plied their trade near the strip clubs, liquor stores and pawn shops downtown or near the railroad tracks. They didn’t normally trawl the Lake Conroe Stop ’n’ Shop parking lot on a Sunday morning.

He might have tried to chat her up, find out why she was so far from her usual stomping grounds, but he was off duty and sick, and for once he was just going to stifle his innate curiosity and go on about his business.

That plan worked fine, until after he’d paid for his purchase and was heading out the door.

The first things he noticed were raised voices. Jazz was no longer alone; she was arguing with a middle-aged man in a baseball cap and sunglasses, his jacket collar pulled up to hide as much of his face as possible.

Classic “john” disguise.

Even so, Hudson was inclined to let it slide. He wasn’t in Vice anymore. It was just an argument in a parking lot, no crime.

Still, he couldn’t help wandering closer.