Montana Lawman

Montana Lawman
Allison Leigh

Mills & Boon Silhouette
Librarian Molly Brewster had successfully created a new identity for herself until Deputy Sheriff Holt Tanner started asking questions about her past. Molly couldn't help but look to the ground when he watched her with his soulful brown eyes and waited for her to answer. In Holt, she sensed a need as deep as her own–to be loved completely…and without fear.Holt had a case to solve and faced a beguiling librarian with secrets. He wanted to ease the pain that kept Molly from confiding in him, but he didn't quite trust her…or himself. Would his search for the truth force Molly into hiding, or would his love set her free and make her his?

Stories of family and romance beneath the Big Sky!

A movement from across the street caught his attention through the window.

The pencil Holt Tanner was holding snapped in two as he watched Molly Brewster skip up the front steps of the library.

She wore a white dress with no sleeves, and as she moved, the waves of her hair—not tied up in a knot today for once—drifted around her bare shoulders. Then, in one moment before she disappeared inside, she looked across the wide street, almost as if she sensed his attention. And maybe she could see Holt sitting there, behind the half-opened blinds of his window, for she suddenly turned and darted inside the library as if the devil himself was after her.

She was bold and saucy one minute. Nervous and skittish the next.

Holt shoved away from his desk, stuffing his little notepad in his pocket. “I’ll be at the library,” he told his dispatcher.

“You might consider wiping the drool off your chin before you go over there,” his dispatcher replied.

Montana Lawman

Allison Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ALLISON LEIGH

There is a saying that you can never be too rich or too thin. Allison doesn’t believe that, but she does believe that you can never have enough books! When her stories find a way into the hearts—and bookshelves—of others, Allison says she feels she’s done something right. Making her home in Arizona with her husband, she enjoys hearing from her readers at Allison@allisonleigh.com or P.O. Box 40772, Mesa, AZ 85274-0772.

For my girls

Contents

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

Chapter One

P anic tasted cold and dark in her mouth as Molly Brewster sat bolt upright. Her heart charged in her chest and she sucked in a harsh breath, willing away a surge of nausea. Something was gouging into her hip and she reached blindly, fingers closing over the weapon. She yanked, pulled it free and stared at it.

How to Take Control of Your Life—and Keep It. The title of the hardcover book stared back at her.

She’d fallen asleep on the couch reading.

Her panic oozed away, leaving her limp. She swung her legs off the couch and huddled forward, pushing the book onto the coffee table. She was trembling and her heart still knocked crazily inside her chest, so loud she fancied she could hear it in her ears.

“It’s Sunday afternoon, Molly,” she whispered. “You’re perfectly safe.”

The knocking grew to a thunderous sound.

The door. Someone was at the door. Pounding louder than her heartbeat, making the door shudder nearly as much as she was.

Shaking her head at her foolishness, Molly pushed off the couch and hurriedly crossed the living room toward the door. The nightmare she’d been having clung to her mind, making her feel more fuzzy than ever, and her hand shook as she grabbed hold of the doorknob.

She no longer lived in fear.

She deliberately yanked open the door, if only to prove to herself that the nightmare was nothing but imaginings. The tall man standing on the other side, though, nearly startled her right out of the few wits she still possessed. Her hand kept a tight, sweaty hold of the doorknob.

Control. She scrambled frantically for the silent mantra. You are in control.

She made herself look at him, gaze skimming up the blue jeans, stuttering over the badge hooked over his belt, traveling over a hard torso clad in a khaki-colored uniform shirt that was probably crisp when he’d put it on, but now looked more than a little wilted because of the heat. Beyond that, to his sharp features, black hair and dark, inscrutable brown eyes, she couldn’t force herself to look. Control only went so far, and the man had made her feel itchy from the first time she’d seen him, even before she’d known what he was.

The doorknob was practically making a permanent imprint on the palm of her hand, but she still couldn’t seem to make herself let go. “Deputy Tanner. What are you d-doing here?”