Under The Covers. Jamie Denton Ann
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“Kiss me, Ronnie,”
Blake said, his voice rough.
“This is crazy,” she sighed.
“We have to make people believe I’m the only man in the world you want.”
“I think you’re taking this a little far,” she said, but slipped her arms around his neck just the same.
He wanted a convincing performance, so she’d give him one. “Just don’t expect a declaration of love, Detective.”
She sucked in a sharp breath when his warm lips skirted along her jaw to her throat. She tipped her head back, not because what he was doing felt wonderfully delicious, but to provide a convincing performance.
Uh-huh. Sure, her conscience taunted.
Ronnie gave in to the desire by pressing her fingers against the back of his neck, urging his mouth over hers. He tasted sweet, hard and hot. She never wanted it to end.
“Convincing enough for you?” she asked, surprised by the strength in her voice.
“Yeah,” he muttered with roughness in his tone. “Plenty.”
“Good.” She lifted her chin a notch and hoped for a satisfied expression. But stepping around him, she felt anything but pleased, wishing like the devil for an icy shower.
Dear Reader,
Every so often a secondary character emerges that catches a writer’s eye, and detective Blake Hammond was one such character. I met Blake when I was writing Flirting with Danger (#708), and for two years he sat in the back of my mind just waiting for the right woman to come along. When sassy DEA Agent Veronica Carmichael appeared, we both knew she was “the one.”
This is one story that couldn’t have been told without the assistance of a few important people. I’d like to offer a very special thank-you to Officer Darrell Drouin of the East Hartford Police Department for answering all of my questions on jurisdiction and interdepartmental procedures. A big thank-you to the Renville County Sheriff’s Department, and especially to Renville County Deputy Sheriff Marlyn Eklund who always offers a smile when answering even my most bizarre “what if” questions as they relate to inner workings of the criminal element. You guys are the best!
I’d love to hear what you think of Blake and Veronica’s romance. You can write to me by e-mail at [email protected] or to P.O. Box 224, Mohall, ND 58761.
Warmest regards,
Jamie Denton
Books by Jamie Denton
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
708—FLIRTING WITH DANGER
748—THE SEDUCTION OF SYDNEY
767—VALENTINE FANTASY
793—RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
797—BREAKING THE RULES
HARLEQUIN BLAZE
10—SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY
Under the Covers
Jamie Denton
MILLS & BOON
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For Kane, Katelyn and Jadyn
This one is for you my little angels.
Contents
1
EXHAUSTED, Detective Blake Hammond dropped into the worn leather chair, leaned back and propped his polished brown loafers on the edge of the gray metal desk. He glanced at the clock hanging on the far wall and managed a tired grin, anxious to wrap up the long unproductive night of surveillance. In less than twelve hours he’d be on a 747 to the Hawaiian Islands. The most strenuous item on his agenda consisted of downing a variety of fruity rum drinks, while appreciating the view of sunbathing beauties intent on deepening their tans under the warm tropical sunshine.
Life was good, and bound to be an improvement over the last month, which had been filled with long hours that hadn’t garnered a solid arrest. For the past two weeks, he’d been convinced the lead from a snitch was a dead end. A series of robberies in Los Angeles’s high-rent district had the lieutenant demanding a bust, but so far, Blake and his new partner, Lucas Stone, had turned up nothing. The robberies were clean, no forced entry and not a single print or scrap of evidence left by the perps.
“You don’t have to gloat, Hammond.” Luke tossed a thin file near Blake’s feet. “It’s depressing to the rest of us grunts left behind to deal with the criminal element.”
“I’ve earned the right to gloat,” Blake said with a chuckle, swinging his feet to the floor. “I haven’t had a vacation in over three years. For the next fourteen days the only surveillance I’m planning has to do with curvy, suntanned, string-bikini-clad bodies glistening with coconut-scented oil.”
Luke dropped into the chair behind the desk adjacent to Blake’s. “Great,” he grumbled, reaching for the phone after shoving a lock of sandy-brown hair off his forehead. “I’m stuck partnering that blowhard bore, Pearson,