Jo Leigh: Little Girl Found

Of course her maternal instincts were in high gear around Megan, but it was watching Jack that gave her the lump in her throat. He was so big he could pick Megan up with one hand, like a football. And yet he was so tender with her. Maybe out of fear, or maybe because of his good heart. Probably a combination of both.

He didn’t know it, but he’d make a wonderful father. For a boy or a girl. Hailey could see the signs, and it made her wish for a crazy second that Jack could live with them permanently. Megan needed him.

And so did she.

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

The thrills never stop at Harlequin Intrigue. This month, get geared up for danger and desire in double helpings!

There’s something about a mysterious man that makes him all the more appealing. In The Silent Witness (#565), Alex Coughlin is just such a man on assignment and undercover. But can he conceal his true feelings for Nicki Michaels long enough to catch a killer? Join Dani Sinclair and find out as she returns to FOOLS POINT.

The search for the truth is Clay Jackson’s only focus—until he learns the woman he never stopped loving was keeping the biggest secret of all…a baby. See why Intimate Secrets (#566) are the deepest with author B.J. Daniels.

Patricia Rosemoor winds up her SONS OF SILVER SPRINGS miniseries this month. Reed is the last Quarrels brother to go the way of the altar as he enters a marriage of convenience with the one woman he thought he’d never have, in A Rancher’s Vow (#567).

Finally, welcome multitalented author Jo Leigh as she contributes her first Harlequin Intrigue title, Little Girl Found (#568). She also begins a three-month bonanza of books! Look for her titles from Harlequin American Romance (June) and Harlequin Temptation (July). You won’t be sorry.

Gripping tales of mystery, suspense that never lets up and sizzling romance to boot. Pick up all four titles for the total Harlequin Intrigue experience.

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Little Girl Found

Jo Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Jo Leigh currently lives just outside Las Vegas, Nevada, where she still can’t get used to the slot machines in the grocery stores. Storytelling has always been a part of her life, whether as a producer in Hollywood, a screenwriter or a novelist. It probably began when she told her third-grade teacher that elephants ate her homework.

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

568—LITTLE GIRL FOUND

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

695—QUICK, FIND A RING!

731—HUSBAND 101

736—DADDY 101

749—IF WISHES WERE…DADDIES

768—CAN’T RESIST A COWBOY

832—DOCTOR, DARLING

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

674—ONE WICKED NIGHT

699—SINGLE SHERIFF SEEKS…

727—TANGLED SHEETS

Jack McCabe—The injured detective withdrew from the world—until a woman and child needed his protection.

Hailey Bishop—Her sexy neighbor had always seemed unapproachable. Then he showed up with a little girl in his arms and panic on his face.

Megan Chandler—The four-year-old had a secret.

Roy Chandler—Megan’s father left her with the only man he knew he could trust.

Bob Dorran—Jack had to take a chance and ask for this officer’s help.

Craig Faraday—The businessman knew Roy by another name. What did Roy know about him?

Crystal McCabe—Jack’s dramatic ex-wife would still help him in a pinch.

Brett Nichols—Is he a cop, or a wolf in sheep’s clothing?

Frank O’Neill—Would Jack’s former partner turn on him?

For Paulie Rose—I love you, sweetie!

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

If the SOB said the Bulls “was robbed” one more time, Jack was going to get his gun and shoot the damn television. He should probably do it, anyway. Before, he’d never really watched it that much. A ball game here, a documentary there. But never sitcoms, and never daytime shows. He was convinced daytime television was a plot to destroy the minds of wastrels who weren’t working days like good soldiers. The only show worth a damn was Jeopardy, but lately he could never seem to get the final question right. Probably a sign of his diminishing mental capacity. His brain was turning to mush, just like his body.

Jack grabbed his long-necked Corona and took a swig of the warm brew. It was late, and he should go to bed. Maybe tonight he’d sleep. Maybe he wouldn’t lie there in the dark, listening to the low vibrations of his downstairs neighbor’s rap music, or the happy couple in 3F who liked to serenade each other with the most vile curses he’d ever heard. And that was saying something for a twelve-year veteran of the Houston PD.

And maybe tonight he wouldn’t think about the way things were now. Or the way things used to be.

He got the remote from the side pocket of the recliner that had become his home and started flipping channels. Once he was away from the sports channel, it was one “infomercial” after another, each selling some contraption he didn’t want or couldn’t use. A potato peeler. An ab cruncher. Richard Simmons weeping in the embrace of one of his acolytes.

He kept pushing the button until he found a show in black and white. He didn’t have to go further. It didn’t matter what the movie was. Sighing, he tried to get comfortable again, which wasn’t so easy. His hip ached, a throb that had become his constant companion. His bum leg lay unnaturally stiff, as if it was made of plastic, instead of flesh and bone.

But then he saw Richard Widmark in a wide-lapeled suit, his hat at a rakish angle and his smile as wicked as the devil’s pet cat. It occurred to Jack that a fresh beer would hit the spot, and maybe a salami sandwich. But that would mean getting up. He wasn’t that thirsty.

THE POUNDING ON HIS DOOR sent a jolt of adrenaline through his body and jump-started his heart. The first thing he noticed was that the television show was in color. He looked at his watch. Four-eighteen. Who the hell would bang on his door at four-eighteen in the morning?

The pounding quickened into the sound of desperation. Jack grabbed his cane, resting all his weight on the sturdy wood as he struggled to stand. The pain in his hip made him grimace, but he did it, taking a second to adjust his balance. “Hold on, dammit,” he said, but not loud enough to be heard over the fist on wood.