Randall Honor

Randall Honor
Judy Christenberry

A RANDALL THROUGH AND THROUGHOne look at lovely Victoria Randall, and Dr. Jonathan Wilson knew he was headed for a showdown. She was sexy, smart and she lived right next door. Would the sassy singleton succeed in putting a wedding rope around his neck? Not if Victoria had any say in the matter. Fall for a big-city bachelor who had snubbed her since the first day they'd met–no way! But then they shared a daring rescue and a stormy night of passion. Suddenly Jon and Victoria's future was more complicated. Would they face it together…or would this determined Randall face the unexpected on her own?

Randall Honor

Judy Christenberry

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

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Judy Christenberry has been writing romances for fifteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers do. A former French teacher, Judy now devotes herself to writing full-time. She hopes readers have as much fun reading her stories as she does writing them. She spends her spare time reading, watching her favorite sports teams and keeping track of her two daughters. Judy’s a native Texan, but now lives in Arizona.

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

Dr. Jonathan Wilson opened the door of Randall Accounting, a grimace on his face. Two days in town and he already had to deal with a number cruncher. Not his favorite thing.

But Dr. Jacoby had insisted.

He’d expected life to be different here. After all, Rawhide, Wyoming, was a lot smaller than Chicago. He supposed he’d been unrealistic. Everything always seemed to come down to numbers, or maybe he should say dollars, even in this small town. After years of med school, he should know that.

“May I help you?”

The cool, educated voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Sitting in the large reception area, a petite blonde greeted him.

He guessed something else was the same as in Chicago. Beautiful women hovering near money. He’d bet this woman wouldn’t be able to tell a debit from a credit. She was there to find out who had money and how she could get some.

“Russ Randall, please,” he said briskly. He’d learned his lesson from his poor father. Avoid blond leeches if at all possible.

Her delicate eyebrows lifted slightly, as if she heard disdain in his voice. Not a way to make friends in this small town.

“I’m sorry, he’s not in right now. May I take a message?”

Jon was surprised that Randall had such professional help in a small town. She sounded almost as businesslike as he. “When do you expect him back?”

“I’m not sure. Could you tell me the nature of your business?”

She really was quite beautiful, but then his mother had been beautiful, too. Beautiful, greedy and self-centered.

He tried to find a pleasant way to refuse to answer. He didn’t want to make her mad. Finally he said, “It’s private.”

Any friendliness he’d imagined he’d seen disappeared. Her face expressionless, she said, “Russ is at lunch. He’ll return in about an hour. You may wait, or I’ll ask him to call you.” Without waiting for an answer, she picked up a pen and turned to the papers on her desk.

He stood there, feeling the coldness of her manner. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. “Is there someone who could show me the apartment he has for rent? It had this same address.”

Her head came up and she stared at him. “Who sent you here?”

“Why? Is the apartment a secret?”

“Dr. Wilson, we’re normally a little more open in Rawhide. You might want to make a note of that.” She opened her desk drawer and pulled out some keys. “This way.”

“How did you know who I am?”

“Certainly not from your friendly greeting.”

She’d circled him and was going out the front door. He decided he’d better follow her. He could determine her source of information later.

The accounting office appeared to occupy half the ground floor of the small building. The other half was a newspaper office. According to the sign painted on the window, its name was the Rawhide Roundup. Oh, yeah, that would probably be the same as the Chicago Tribune with hard-hitting news and in-depth articles about scientific discoveries.

He sighed but kept going, following in the blonde’s wake, unconsciously noting her trim behind in nicely tailored slacks.

At the edge of the building, she turned a sharp left and began climbing a stairway that ran up the side of the building.