Dawn Stewardson - Falling For The Enemy

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Dawn Stewardson - Falling For The Enemy» — ознакомительный отрывок электронной книги совершенно бесплатно, а после прочтения отрывка купить полную версию. В некоторых случаях можно слушать аудио, скачать через торрент в формате fb2 и присутствует краткое содержание. Жанр: unrecognised, на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале библиотеки ЛибКат.

Falling For The Enemy: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «Falling For The Enemy»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

Unavoidable liason…Every Tuesday, Hayley Morgan drops off her six-year-old son, Max, at the baby-sitter's, then drives the deserted stretch of highway south from New Orleans to the maximum security prison where she works. Every Tuesday, Max waits out front at the baby-sitter's, eager for Hayley to return.One Tuesday, the routine isn't quite so smooth.Because Max disappears. He's been abducted. But there's one man–lawyer Slade Reeves–who can help her.He's Hayley's only link to Max. She knows she has to trust him, although he appears to be invovled with Max's kidnapping.Even worse, she starts falling for Slade…falling for the enemy.

Falling For The Enemy — читать онлайн ознакомительный отрывок

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «Falling For The Enemy», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

If Dr. Morgan didn’t cooperate, then they’d use their ace in the hole. Her son.

CHAPTER ONE

HAYLEY MORGAN HEARD Max coming long before he reached the kitchen—hardly surprising when he was doing his imitation of a jet plane breaking the sound barrier.

Satchmo switched his tail a couple of times, then scurried into the sheltered space beside the fridge. He was a smart-enough cat to avoid the paths of small boys in motion.

A second later, Max zoomed into the room, skidded to a stop in front of Hayley and focused on the shorts she was wearing.

“Not goin’ to jail today, huh, Mom?” he said with a grin.

She couldn’t help smiling. He thought his “goin’ to jail” line was hilarious and used it regularly—which was all right as long as he said it to people who knew what her job was. Last fall, though, he’d told his first-grade teacher that his mom was goin’ to jail and for weeks the woman had believed Hayley was incarcerated.

“It’s Saturday,” she reminded him, turning to get the orange juice from the fridge. With school over for the summer, he was finding that the days blended into one another.

As she poured the juice, he sat contemplating the three different cereal boxes she’d put on the table. “Jimmy’s mom got him some real good cereal,” he informed her at last. “It tastes like candy.”

She set the glass of juice in front of him. “Well, call me old-fashioned, but—”

“You’re old-fashioned,” he interrupted, bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Which is why,” she said, ruffling his hair, “I think cereal should taste like cereal.”

Once he’d decided on corn flakes and began shaking some into his bowl, she wandered over to the window.

This early in the morning a cool mist still hung in the air, but by noon the city would be ninety degrees and steamy, reminding residents and tourists alike that much of it was built on reclaimed swampland and lay below sea level.

Yet even in the scorching heat of the summer New Orleans had an appeal she’d never felt anywhere else.

Three years ago, when she and Max had moved here from Pennsylvania, the Crescent City had quickly lulled them with a gentle sense of belonging. And even though New Orleans was far from the safest city for raising a child, this section of the Bayou St. John District had a secure, friendly atmosphere. Children played outside without their parents feeling they had to be watching every minute. And there were enough stay-at-home moms right on their own street that Hayley never had a problem finding someone to look after Max.

She glanced at him, making sure he wasn’t mushing his cereal instead of eating it, then looked out again, this time focusing on the way the sunshine filtered through the branches of the ancient oak in their side yard, backlighting the gray beards of Spanish moss that hung from its branches and dappling the street below in light and shadow.

That century-old tree, perfect for a boy to climb, was part of the reason she’d bought this place. That and the house itself, of course. A scaled-down version of a French-Colonial plantation house, with cypress woodwork and beautiful columned room dividers, it had murmured it was the one for her the first time she’d walked into it.

She turned from the window and, for a few moments, stood watching Max eat his corn flakes. Fair-haired and blue-eyed, he looked like his father. Personality-wise, though, he was completely different—as happy and easygoing a child as any parent could hope for.

He was the single good thing that had come from her failed marriage. She loved him more than she sometimes believed possible.

MONDAY MORNING, SLOAN REEVES was a man on a mission. He had to convince Dr. Hayley Morgan not to make the wrong decision. And he had to do it without telling her even one of the reasons why.

After striding across the lobby of the Orleans Parish state government building, he walked into a waiting elevator and pushed the button for the sixth floor. That was where the regional office of the State Department of Corrections was located, and where he’d find Dr. Morgan, regional director of Mental Health Services for the three state prisons closest to New Orleans—among them, the Poquette Correctional Center.

As the elevator carried him upward, he reviewed what he’d learned about the woman. Her job was partly administrative, partly clinical. She normally spent two days a week in her office and three in the field, giving the prisons’ staff psychologists whatever support or direction they needed. And she’d been known to personally evaluate prisoners who, for one reason or another, warranted special attention.

She was thirty-four, which struck him as young for someone in her position of authority. But having worked closely with the previous regional director, she’d been the logical choice to replace him when he’d retired five months ago.

The elevator reached six; the doors opened. Sloan stepped off, straightened his tie and started down the hallway to his right, not even glancing in the receptionist’s direction.

He knew exactly where Hayley Morgan’s office was located and that, as of late Friday afternoon, she’d had no appointments until ten-thirty this morning. In his line of work, it was wise to check those sorts of things out beforehand and leave as little as possible to chance.

When he stopped outside her doorway, she didn’t immediately realize he was there. She was engrossed in an open file on her desk, so he took the opportunity to appraise her, surprised his source hadn’t mentioned how good-looking she was.

Her plainly styled blue suit was the only plain thing about her. She had smooth, lightly tanned skin, full sensuous lips and hair the color of rich cognac. It was long enough that she was wearing it pulled back into some sort of knot—an attempt, he suspected, to make herself appear both older and less attractive. Being young and good-looking would not be an advantage to a woman working with incarcerated men.

But if she didn’t want them to notice her, she needed to do a whole lot more than just pull back her hair. And even the effectiveness of that was spoiled by the tendrils escaping the knot. If they could speak, he knew that right this minute they’d be whispering “Sexy” to him.

His visual inspection completed, he said, “Excuse me? Dr. Morgan?”

She glanced up then, her large brown eyes meeting his gaze. They were decidedly sexy, as well.

“Yes?” Hayley said, doing a three-second once-over of the man with the lazy Louisiana drawl.

In his mid-to-late thirties, he was well dressed, tall and attractive, with dark hair, an easy smile and eyes a deeper blue than Gulf waters on a sunny day. As he stepped into her office, she couldn’t help thinking they were the kind of eyes women found themselves drowning in if they weren’t careful. And sometimes, she suspected, even if they were.

“I’m Sloan Reeves,” he said, extending his hand across the desk. “May I have a few minutes of your time?”

His hand was warm, his handshake firm but not crushing, and she was absurdly aware of his touch.

When that realization skittered through her mind, she told herself it meant nothing. Her hormones were simply reminding her she was a woman.

That wasn’t something she exactly forgot, but between her job and Max, she seldom had time to notice men.

Checking her desk clock, she said, “I have a meeting in twenty minutes, but if you don’t need any longer than that...”

“I doubt I’ll need even that.” He took a business card from his wallet and handed it to her as he sat down.

Sloan Reeves, Attorney at Law, it informed her.

“I’ll come straight to the point,” he said. “I’m here on behalf of William Fitzgerald.”

Читать дальше
Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «Falling For The Enemy»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «Falling For The Enemy» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё непрочитанные произведения.


Отзывы о книге «Falling For The Enemy»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Falling For The Enemy» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.

x