Bonnie Gardner - Uncle Sarge

Her breath caught in her throat. The vision was so sweet she almost wanted to weep. That innocent little boy with a halo of red peach fuzz snuggled against that hard, wide chest. The baby’s eyes were half-closed and he sucked on one finger.

This was, by far, one of the most tantalizing sexy sights she could ever have imagined. Jennifer swallowed, moistened her lips and swallowed again. What was wrong with her? How could she be lusting after the man as if he were a hunk-of-the-month calendar?

She just didn’t do stuff like that.

Then again, there was a first time for everything.

Dear Reader,

May is “Get Caught Reading” month, and there’s no better way for Harlequin American Romance to show our support of literacy than by offering you an exhilarating month of must-read romances.

Tina Leonard delivers the next installment of the exciting Harlequin American Romance in-line continuity series TEXAS SHEIKHS with His Arranged Marriage. A handsome playboy poses as his identical twin and mistakenly exchanges “I do’s” with a bewitching princess bride.

A beautiful rancher’s search for a hired hand leads to more than she bargained for when she finds a baby on her doorstep and a Cowboy with a Secret, the newest title from Pamela Browning. 2001 WAYS TO WED concludes with Kiss a Handsome Stranger by Jacqueline Diamond. Daisy Redford’s biological clock had been ticking…until a night of passion with her best friend’s brother left her with a baby on the way! And in Uncle Sarge, a military man does diaper duty…and learns about fatherhood, family and forever-after love. Don’t miss this heartwarming romance by Bonnie Gardner.

It’s a terrific month for Harlequin American Romance, and we hope you’ll “get caught reading” one of our great books.

Wishing you happy reading,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Uncle Sarge

Bonnie Gardner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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As always, to “Mud.”

To the best critique group ever: Lyn, Pat,

Kathy, Dianne, Debby and Ellen.

To Sue and Donna. You know why.

To all the air force combat controllers I have known and loved and sometimes hated. And to all the women who love them in spite of it all.

Bonnie Gardner has finally figured out what she wants to do when she grows up. After a varied career that included such jobs as switchboard operator, draftsman and exercise instructor, she went back to college and became an English teacher. As a teacher, she took a course on how to teach writing to high school students and caught the bug herself.

She lives in northern Alabama with her husband of over thirty years, her own military hero. After following him around from air force base to air force base, she has finally gotten to settle down. They have two grown sons, one of which is now serving in the air force. She loves to read, cook, garden and, of course, write.

She would love to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 442, Meridianville, AL 35759.

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

876—UNCLE SARGE

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

Looking at the grimy storefront window of the Checkmate Detective Agency in Fort Walton Beach, Florida, Rich Larsen shivered in spite of the humid, ninety-degree August heat. He wondered if he should have called first, but shook that idea away.

He was a technical sergeant in the United States Air Force and a member of the Special Tactics Wing, Silver Team, one of the air force’s most elite units. He could deal with a private detective on a side street in a military town. He drew in a deep breath and pushed open the glass door.

A rush of blessedly cold air hit him as he stepped inside and looked around. The office could have passed for something out of Mickey Spillane except for a profusion of houseplants cluttering every surface. The anteroom appeared to be empty, but the door to the rear was open.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” a decidedly feminine voice said from somewhere. The floor?

“Okay, fine,” Rich said, for lack of anything else, as a woman with long, dark brown hair peeked up from behind the reception desk.

This must be the secretary, he presumed, and as the woman rose, Rich decided that she definitely did not look like someone out of Mickey Spillane. Her face was perfectly ordinary, like the girl next door. Her shape was anything but, in spite of the fact that she hid it behind a demure, cotton dress.

“May I help you?” she asked as she smoothed out the dress that did nothing to disguise curves that would make a showgirl proud.

“I’m looking for a woman,” Rich said.

“This is a detective agency, not an escort service,” the receptionist replied primly, and Rich amended his original description. She looked like a Sunday school teacher.

Rich blew out an impatient breath. “My sister. I’m looking for my sister,” he clarified. “Look, if you’ll just let me speak to the detective, I’ll explain what I want, and be out of your way.” He wasn’t sure what she’d been doing on the floor, but she was obviously annoyed at being interrupted and was taking it out on him.

“Mr. King’s out. Go on in the office and wait.”

Shrugging, Rich complied. There had been other detective agencies listed in the phone book, but this one had the smallest ad. He figured it meant that they were either really good, or really cheap. Considering a tech sergeant’s pay scale, even with jump pay and his other hazard bonuses, he hoped they were both. And when he’d asked around, he’d learned it was run by a former member of his unit who was now retired. Any time he could give a former combat controller his business, he tried to do it.

JENNIFER BISHOP sank back to the floor and fanned her face with her hands. That hunk of man was hot enough to melt the iceberg that had sunk the Titanic. He had to be six-foot-six if he was an inch, and his broad chest stretched the knit fabric of his navy Polo shirt. His shoulders were so wide that he surely must have had to turn sideways to come through the door.

No, she told herself. She was here to work, not drool over a man. Even if he did look like someone off of…what? The cover of a romance novel? She’d just come out of a relationship that ought to have put her off men forever. So, why was she getting hot flashes over this stranger?

She brushed the rest of the potting soil she’d spilled into a pile, reached for her minivac and vacuumed it up. Maybe it didn’t fit the normal image of a private detective’s office to be cluttered with houseplants, but then she wasn’t a normal private detective. And she always whiled away slow periods by tending her plants.