The Stranger's Sin

The Stranger's Sin
Darlene Gardner

Accused of a crime she didn't commit, Kelly Carmichael skips bail and heads to Indigo Springs. It's a shot in the dark, but with her freedom at stake she has no choice if she wants answers. When forest ranger Chase Bradford starts asking questions, Kelly tells him she's a stranger passing through. That's the first lie. Now she has to keep lying.She's walking a dangerous tightrope…especially when she starts falling for the single father. How will Chase react when he finds out who she really is? Will the honorable guy feel duty-bound to bring her in? Or will he stand by her? If only she had the courage to trust him with the truth….

“You’re a very good liar.”

Kelly’s step faltered at Chase’s words, her defenses going up like a brick wall. She’d felt so comfortable with Chase during the drive that she’d let herself forget he was in law enforcement.

She’d let herself become attracted to him.

Who was she trying to fool?

One of the reasons she’d asked him to team up with her had been that she was already attracted to him.

Far too much.

Dear Reader,

Is lying ever justified?

Kelly Carmichael thinks so, especially upon her arrival in Indigo Springs when the truth could land her back in jail. Then she meets and starts to fall for Chase Bradford, who holds the opposite view—and a badge.

That’s the setup of A Stranger’s Sin, the second book in my Return to Indigo Springs trilogy. I thought it would be interesting to pair a woman, who lies when she has to, with a do-the-right-thing kind of guy and see what happened.

Hint: there’s a scene in the book during a Fourth of July fireworks show.

All my best,

Darlene Gardner

P.S. Visit me on the Web at www.darlenegardner.com.

The Stranger’s Sin

Darlene Gardner

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

While working as a newspaper sportswriter, Darlene Gardner realized she’d rather make up quotes than rely on an athlete to say something interesting. So she quit her job and concentrated on a fiction career that landed her at Harlequin/Silhouette Books, where she wrote for Harlequin Temptation, Harlequin Duets and Silhouette Intimate Moments before finding a home at Harlequin Superromance.

To the truth, which has a way of coming out.

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 ONE

T HE SWEET PROMISE OF FREEDOM lay just beyond the courthouse doors, a nearly irresistible proposition for a woman who’d spent the night in jail.

Kelly Carmichael longed to rush outside and turn her face to the late-June sun. The Wenona County courthouse was three or four miles from the cozy, one-bedroom town house in upstate New York where she lived alone. She planned to walk the entire way home, no matter how high the temperature climbed.

Then she’d take a long, cool shower. She yearned to wash away the horror of the eighteen hours since uniformed police officers had pounded on her door, shown her a warrant and taken her away in handcuffs.

But first she needed to hear what the attorney who’d represented her at the arraignment advised her to do about the colossal misunderstanding that had gotten her arrested.

The attorney stumbled out of the hall restroom, wiping the brow of his thin, pale face. She’d seen that same look of misery on one of her first-grade students last week. Spencer Yates, she guessed, had a stomach virus.

She rose from the wooden bench outside the court clerk’s window where her ex-boyfriend had posted her bail before leaving as quickly as he could. Spencer Yates was moving very slowly.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“No, I am not all right,” the lawyer snapped. His wisp of a moustache underscored how young he was, as though he couldn’t yet grow decent facial hair. He put up a hand. “Sorry. It’s just that this stomach thing has hit me pretty hard. So let’s get down to it.”

He indicated that she should precede him into a meeting room not much larger than the jail cell where she’d spent a sleepless Sunday night on a hard cot, counting down the hours until Monday’s arraignment. He moved to pull the heavy door shut and last night’s claustrophobia came rushing back.

“Please, can we leave the door open?” she asked, her voice cracking.

His hand dropped to his side. “Makes no difference to me.”

He sat down heavily on one of the upholstered chairs alongside a meeting table with a laminate wood top and swiped a hand over his damp brow.