www.millsandboon.co.uk

      BETH CORNELISON

      started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.

      Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including the coveted Golden Heart Award in romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.

      She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 52505, Shreveport, LA 71135-2505 or visit her Web site at www.bethcornelison.com.

      This one is for Jeffery—who has big dreams

       of his own. You can achieve anything in life with faith,

       a firm foundation, a good attitude and

       dogged perseverance. I love you!

      Acknowledgments

      Many thanks to Lt. J. E. Via, retired Investigator and Major Case Supervisor for the Criminal Investigation Division of the Ouachita Parish Sheriff Department, for answering my many questions and letting me know about Louisiana Act 894, which will allow Cal a happier ending!

      To Christy Hughes, sales manager for Kone, Inc., for her helpful information about elevators.

      To Anna Destefano and Winnie Griggs, my dear friends and critique partners on this book.

      To Lucienne Diver, my wonderful agent, for her assistance, friendship and unflagging support through the years.

      To Paul, for putting up with this zany writer while I followed my dream.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Prologue

      “All rise. The Honorable Judge Thomas Fitzpatrick presiding.”

      Showtime.

      Cal Walters shoved stiffly to his feet. He knew what was coming—two years in prison before he was eligible for parole.

      Tension vibrated in the silent courtroom and through Cal’s taut muscles as he waited for the judge to rule on the plea agreement. He glanced behind him, where the guys from his fire station had come out in a show of support. His fellow firefighters had been at the bar with him the night he’d spotted David Ralston in the back hall using a woman as a punching bag. They’d stood with him as he’d come to the woman’s defense.

      And his buddies had peeled him off Ralston when his defense of the woman had turned into something more, when the past and present had blurred and Cal had gone a little crazy.

      He drew a deep, fortifying breath as Fitzpatrick settled at the bench.

      Maybe, just maybe, the judge would agree that the deal the district attorney’s office had offered was unreasonable. Maybe the judge wouldn’t make him serve time once he considered the circumstances surrounding that bar fight.

      Sure. And maybe Assistant D.A. Libby Hopkins’s presence in the courtroom meant she still had feelings for him and wanted to pick up where they’d left off three years ago.

      In your dreams.

      Regret sliced through him, sharp and merciless.

      “Counsel, I’ve reviewed the plea agreement reached in this matter.” Judge Fitzpatrick shuffled his papers then addressed the lead prosecutor. “Mr. Moore, do you have anything that needs attention before I make my ruling?”

      “No, Your Honor.”

      Cal turned, staring past the tall, bearded assistant D.A.

      When his gaze locked on the brunette in the first row of the gallery, his gut rolled. Libby stood with her back rigid, buttoned down in her pinstriped suit. She’d slicked her shiny chestnut hair into a neat bun. Her cool, crisp courtroom dress didn’t fool him. He remembered the feel of that silky mane, unbound and tumbled around him during the hottest sex he’d ever had. Even now the memory made his body ache and pulse, his heart clench. They’d shared something special. Something intense.

      Something he’d ended after a precious few months to marry a former girlfriend. Renee had discovered, weeks after they’d parted company and he’d later met Libby, that she was carrying his child. Cal wanted his baby to have his name, but giving Libby up had left a hole in his heart.

      Seeing Libby walk into the courtroom today had been bittersweet. She hadn’t been a member of the prosecution team, but that didn’t allay his suspicions about her contributions to his lynching. Watching her repeatedly confer with the prosecution made it clear where Libby’s loyalties lay.

      “Mr. Walters, do you understand the terms of this plea and accept them without coercion or duress?”

      Hell, no! I don’t understand why any of this has happened, how my life could have gotten so far off track.

      Cal’s chest contracted, filled with a dull ache. If he went to prison, he wouldn’t see his daughter for months. Two-year-old Ally meant the world to him. He’d given up Libby to be Ally’s father, and now he felt his baby girl slipping away, too. He choked back the bitter frustration and defeat and nodded solemnly. “Yes, Your Honor.”

      “You understand that your attorney has asked