Not Without Her Family

“You’re attracted to me.”

Was he that easy to read? Jack kept his face expressionless. “Amazing.”

“What?”

“That ego of yours. How’d you ever get something that big through the doorway?”

“It’s not ego.” Kelsey’s green eyes met his. “I felt it – the pull between us. Are you going to tell me you didn’t?”

Jack swallowed. Yes, he felt it. He didn’t deny he was attracted to her. But just because he felt it didn’t mean he had to act on it. He controlled his body and his heart, not the other way around.

Damn, but Kelsey was sexy. And tempting. And a distraction his instincts told him he couldn’t afford.

Available in April 2010 from Mills & Boon® Special Moments™

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An Ideal Father by Elaine Grant

Not Without Her Family by Beth Andrews

Award-winning author Beth Andrews is living her dream, writing romance novels while looking after her real-life hero and their three children. A self-professed small-town girl, Beth still lives in the Pennsylvania town where she grew up. She has been honoured by her kids as The Only Mum in Town Who Makes Her Children Do Chores and The Meanest Mum in the World – as if there’s something wrong with counting down the remaining days of summer vacation until school starts again. For more information about Beth or her upcoming books, please visit her website at www.bethandrews.net.

For my Critique Partners, who so generously gave their time, encouragement and unending faith.

For my kids, who proudly told people I was a writer way before I ever did.

For Andy, who shows me every day that real-life happy endings are possible.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I’d like to thank Officer Harsen for his valuable input. Any mistakes I’ve made are my own.

I’d also like to thank Victoria Curran for helping to make this book the best it could be.

CHAPTER ONE

“MA’AM, I NEED YOU TO MOVE away from the counter and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Damn. That didn’t sound good.

Standing in a dim patch of light a foot away from the horse shoe-shaped bar, Kelsey Reagan slowly turned toward the deep, commanding voice.

As she did, her gaze slid over the tall man walking into the empty room. A blue T-shirt clung to his broad shoulders and he wore snug, dark blue jeans. Military-short black hair, granite features and icy-blue eyes completed the picture. All in all, a completely hum-worthy package.

She rolled her eyes. God, she really needed to get a grip. One look at a pretty face and she totally lost focus. She wasn’t here to enjoy the scenery—as nice as it was. She was here to see Dillon.

Besides, gorgeous or not, this guy was so not her type. Even though he wore normal clothes instead of some godawful uniform, Kelsey instinctively knew what he was. The authority in his voice, the way he seemed to size her up within seconds of looking at her, and his rigid, ready-for-anything posture told her he was a cop through and through.

Mostly it was the confident, I’m legally entitled to carry a gun and, yes, I will shoot you if you piss me off, tilt of his chin that gave him away.

“I’m with the Serenity Springs Police Department,” the cop said in a grave tone as he fished something out of his back pocket.

Kelsey sighed. She’d done it again. Wrong place. Wrong time. Her official, unofficial motto.

She should have it tattooed on her ass.

Except this was the right place. The Summit Bar of Serenity Springs, New York. As for the time…well…considering how long she’d waited to see Dillon again, and how desperate she was to make amends with him, it was the right time. It had to be.

She waved her hand at the shiny silver shield the cop held up for her inspection. “You can put the tin star away. I already pegged you as a cop.”

He pocketed his badge, his gaze intense as he studied her. “Ma’am,” he said evenly, “this establishment is closed.”

She rolled her eyes again at him calling her ma’am. At twenty-seven, she was a good eight years away from official membership in the Ma’am Club.

“Okay, I realize this…” She trailed off as she took in the scarred tables and chairs, walls discolored from years of cigarette smoke and the ancient linoleum floor. Establishment? Who was he kidding? This place was a dump, pure and simple. “I know this…bar is closed, but I figured there must be someone here.”

“What, exactly, led you to that conclusion?”

“Because when I knocked, the door practically swung open.”

He raised one dark eyebrow. She pursed her lips. Shoot. Looked like she was digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole.

She should’ve waited outside for Dillon instead of letting herself into the bar, especially once she realized the place was empty. But she’d been so excited to finally see him again—and afraid he’d take off if he spotted her in the parking lot.

Probably not the smartest move. Then again, she wasn’t exactly noted for her decision-making skills.

She ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips and saw the cop follow the movement. Noticed a small, but real, flare of awareness.

She narrowed her eyes. Seemed to be a spark of life beneath this guy’s steely exterior after all. Maybe she could still wriggle her way out of this mess.

She hated to brag, but she was a damn good wriggler.

And while she’d done her best to avoid any contact with the police in the past ten years, wriggling with this particular cop wouldn’t be too much of a hardship.

She attempted a smile. “Look, Officer—”

“Actually it’s chief. Chief Jack Martin.”

Her grin slid away. Of course he was the chief. Because no way could she be lucky enough to get busted by a lowly traffic cop or something.

She tried again. “Chief Martin, my name is Kelsey Reagan and I don’t know what you think—”

“What I think,” he interrupted smoothly, “is that you’re trespassing on this property. You could be looking at breaking-and-entering charges.”

Her stomach fell to rest somewhere in the vicinity of her big toe.

“Hey, whoa, back up the paddy wagon there, Sheriff. This is all a big misunderstanding.” She worked to keep her voice light and steady and prayed she projected the right combination of honesty and innocence. Sort of like a Girl Scout. They were all about honesty and innocence, right? Which probably explained why she’d never been one. “I didn’t break in here. Not really.”

“How do you not really break in to a place?”

“Like I said, the door wasn’t locked and—”

“Do you always walk into a building simply because the door’s not locked?”

She fought her growing irritation. “What I’m saying is that I’d hoped someone was here so I knocked, several times, and when no one answered—”

“You let yourself in,” he finished for her. “Despite the Closed sign on the door.”

“I didn’t come inside to steal anything. I’m actually looking for someone who works here.”

“That so? And who would that be?”

“Dillon Ward.” She bit the inside of her lip. “Maybe you know him?”

He didn’t so much as blink. Kelsey blew out an exasperated breath. Didn’t everyone know everyone in a small town? But there was no flash of recognition in the cop’s eyes.

“Look,” she said, setting her purse on the bar, “I have a picture of him in here, maybe you could—”

“Hold up.” Chief Martin closed the distance between them in two long strides, picked up her purse and dumped it on the bar out of her reach.

Her mouth fell open. “What was that for?”

“A precautionary measure.”

“For what?” Then realization dawned on her and she wasn’t sure if she was amused or offended. “You worried I have a gun in there? Sorry to disappoint, but I left my Uzi in my evening bag.”

Ignoring her, he finally stepped back and nodded toward her scattered belongings. “Go ahead.”

She started to speak, then decided against it and dutifully pulled her wallet out of the mess and flipped it open. She took out the ten-year-old picture of Dillon and handed it to the cop but couldn’t stop herself from asking, “You always such a tight ass? Or is this just my lucky day?”

“Just doing my job, ma’am.” He glanced at the picture. “What’s your business with Mr. Ward?”

Kelsey cleared her throat. “It’s personal.”

He handed the picture back to her. “We’ve had several burglaries and instances of break-ins resulting in destruction of property over the past two months and—”

“I hate to burst your bubble,” she said as she tossed her stuff back into her purse, “but I’ve only been in town an hour. Any destruction to this property was done long before I arrived—maybe even before I was born. Besides, what am I supposed to steal? Plastic sip straws?”

She snapped her purse shut, raised her head and bit back a yelp of surprise. Chief Martin had stepped closer, his large body now looming over her. In an instinctive attempt to put some distance between them, Kelsey shuffled back and found herself pressed against the bar.

Her heart galloping in her chest, she straightened and forced herself to maintain eye contact. Cops were like wild dogs—hostile, arrogant, downright mean—and they ran in packs. The police department in her hometown had rallied around her abusive stepfather for years, simply because he was one of them.

She also knew if you showed them the slightest hint of fear, they’d gobble you up before you could say “kibble.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of any wrongdoing, ma’am,” he said in that annoyingly calm, emotionless voice of his. “I was simply explaining the reasons behind my actions.”

“Oh.” Kelsey swallowed and berated herself for attempting to antagonize him. “Sorry. It’s just that you…I mean…cops…make me nervous,” she blurted, her face heating.

His expression didn’t change. Did the man ever blink? “I take it you’ve had your share of run-ins with the police?”

“You could take it that way.”

Way more than she was comfortable with—starting with her first arrest at age ten for shoplifting. During the next five years she’d been busted for almost everything including underage drinking and vandalism to resisting arrest. And each time, when her stepfather—Glenn—found out about the trouble she’d gotten into, she usually ended up with a few bruises as part of her punishment.

“Seeing as how the owner isn’t here, and taking into account the break-ins, why don’t I just wait with you until Mr. Ward arrives?”

Kelsey crossed her arms. Just once she’d like real life to go according to her plans. Nowhere in her itinerary for the day did she have hang with a cop penciled in.

It grated to admit that even after all these years, cops still made her nervous. And she still didn’t trust a one of them.

She shook her head. “That’s not really necessary—”

“I insist,” he said, his steady blue eyes meeting hers.

She tried to tell herself her unsettled stomach was caused by nerves but even she wasn’t that good a liar. Okay, she really did not need her previously dormant hormones to surge to life. Not now. And especially not with a cop.

“You know,” she said, ignoring the unsteadiness in her voice, “maybe I should just wait in my car. Then we can chalk this whole episode up to one big misunderstanding.”

She wasn’t sure, but she could’ve sworn his lips twitched. “But this episode was just getting interesting,” he said dryly.

Yeah. That’s what she was afraid of.

“Besides,” he continued, “you never explained what your personal business with Mr. Ward happens to be. Is he your husband? Boyfriend?”

She shook her head. “No. He’s my brother.”

HER BROTHER? He hadn’t seen that one coming.

She didn’t look much like the broad-shouldered, dark-haired Ward. Jack took in Kelsey Reagan’s slim legs, subtly curved hips and the tight black T-shirt hugging her small, round breasts. And was that a tattoo peeking over the waistband of her low-slung jeans?

His mouth grew dry at the idea of finding out, and he frowned. Focus, Martin.

He stole a quick look at her left ring finger. “Is Reagan your married name?”

“I’m not married.”

“Divorced?”

She raised both eyebrows. “Nosey, aren’t you?” Warmth crept up his neck but he merely shrugged. “Just curious.”

“If you must know, Dillon is my half brother. Different fathers.”

“And, as Mr. Ward’s sister, you thought illegal entry was a good idea?”

She sighed. “You’re just not going to let that go, are you?”

“I’m just doing—”

“I know, I know. You’re doing your job. I get it, okay? Just lay off the ma’ams,” she said as Jack’s sister Allie walked through the front door, “or else I might give you a reason to haul out those handcuffs you’re obviously dying to use.”

“Hey,” Allie called, curiosity clear on her face, “what’s going on?”

Ignoring his sister—and Kelsey’s loaded statement about him wanting to cuff her—Jack kept his gaze on the redhead. She reminded him of those modern art paintings his daughter had been fascinated with at the Metropolitan Museum of Art a few months back. The sharp lines of Kelsey’s face shouldn’t have worked with her high cheekbones and narrow nose. But they did. In fact, her unique features made her face all the more interesting.

He frowned. He found her interesting in a totally professional way, he assured himself, nothing more.

“I need to speak to the building’s owner for a minute,” he said, stepping back. But it wasn’t far enough away to avoid her light, citrusy scent. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

Her emerald-green eyes narrowed. “I’ll stand.”

Intrigued by her stubbornness, he kept his mouth shut and walked over to where Allie stood, halfway into the bar.

“What’s going on? I thought you had the day off,” Allie said softly. She set two plastic grocery bags on a table, looking from him to the redhead and back again. “Who’s that?”

“I am off duty.” Jack turned so both the redhead and the exits were within his sight. “I came over to see if you wanted to have lunch.”

“You mean you came over to see if I’d cook you lunch.”

He almost grinned. “Only if you insist.”

Allie cuffed him on the shoulder. “That still doesn’t answer my second question. Who is she?”

“Says her name is Kelsey Reagan. Ring any bells?”

Allie glanced at Kelsey again. “No. Should it?”

“I just figured since you and Ward are such good buddies, you’d know the name of his sister.”

Allie’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me this Kelsey…”

“Reagan,” he supplied.

“Kelsey Reagan is Dillon’s sister?” At Jack’s nod, she continued, “He’s never mentioned her. Not to me, anyway.”

Jack didn’t miss the surprise on Allie’s face. Ever since Ward, the ex-con-turned-carpenter, started renovating The Summit, rumors had spread around town that he and Allie were lovers. But if that was true, surely she’d recognize the name of Kelsey Reagan.

Not that Jack believed the gossip. And not just because he didn’t want Allie involved with someone with Ward’s less-than-desirable background. No, he based his conclusions on the only thing he could count on. Cold hard facts.

While Allie had never bothered to deny or confirm it, the few times Jack had been around the two of them, he’d seen nothing to indicate their relationship was anything other than friendship. There were no long looks. No subtle brushing of hands. No sparks.

Nothing even remotely close to the flash that had, briefly, arced between Jack and Kelsey a few minutes ago.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Upon entering the premises, I discovered Miss Reagan inside. She claims the door was unlocked—”

“It was unlocked,” Kelsey called. “And if you’re going to keep talking about me, you might want to either lower your voices or go into another room.”

Jack took hold of Allie’s arm and moved her farther away from the bar. “Is that true?” he asked quietly.

Allie shrugged out of her red leather jacket. “I didn’t lock the door when I left, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“How do you expect to run a business when you can’t even remember to lock the door?”

“I didn’t forget to lock it,” Allie whispered, “I left it open because I didn’t know when Dillon would be back.”

He glanced back at Kelsey. “I think it would be a good idea for you to check around, make sure nothing’s missing.”

Allie frowned. “Why? I only ran out for a few minutes.”

“In those few minutes, you could’ve returned to find half your stock gone and your cash register empty.”

“The stock’s still here,” she said, motioning to the bottlefilled shelves behind the bar. “Was she emptying the cash register when you found her?”

A headache began to form behind his eyes. “No. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t help herself to your petty cash.”

“It doesn’t mean she did, either.” She laid her coat on the table. “Remember that pesky little constitutional amendment? The one about a person being innocent until proven guilty?”

Spoken like the defense lawyer Allie was. Or had been until she’d chucked eight years of higher education, quit her job and returned home to buy this run-down bar.

Talk about your less-than-stellar career moves.

“Let’s save the debate on criminal rights for another time. Just do me a favor and check the cash register. Please,” he added, knowing Allie would balk at anything she construed as an order.

With a resigned—and to Jack’s mind, overly dramatic—sigh, Allie crossed the room and went behind the bar. Sending Kelsey an apologetic look, she opened the cash register drawer, glanced down and shut it again. She shook her head at Jack.

“I told you I didn’t steal anything,” Kelsey said with a smirk. And if he thought the smirk was sexy, no one had to know but him.

“Ignore my brother,” Allie told her. “He’s a bit overprotective.” She smiled. “I’m Allie Martin. Jack says you’re looking for Dillon?”

“That’s right. I thought he’d be working here today.”

“He ran out for some lunch,” Allie said. “But he should be back any minute. Can I get you something? A soda, maybe?”

“Uh…” Kelsey’s eyes darted from Allie to Jack, but then she slid onto a stool. “A soda would be great. Thanks.”

Allie filled a glass and placed it in front of Kelsey. “Is Dillon expecting you?”

Kelsey twirled her straw between two fingers. “I doubt it. I was in the area and thought I’d drop in to see him.” She sipped her drink. “So…uh…you own this place?”

“I do.” His sister’s pride was unmistakable. And, if you asked Jack, unwarranted.

Not that he wasn’t thrilled to have Allie back in Serenity Springs where she belonged, but why couldn’t she have opened a law practice instead of mixing drinks for a living? Or at least bought a place that hadn’t sat empty for the past year?

Allie leaned her elbows on the bar, her chin in her hand. “Actually I’ve only had it a few months. Dillon just started the renovations and he figures it’ll be at least two months before we’re done.”

“Have you thought of moving the pool table there?” Kelsey pointed to the far corner by the kitchen. “It would open the flow of traffic and leave you room for more seating.”

“You think?”

Kelsey nodded. “Yeah. That way you could put in a small dance floor as well. You could even add a dartboard.”

Jack sat two stools down from Kelsey and zoned out of their conversation before they started swapping decorating tips and cake recipes. His instincts went into overdrive when he looked at Kelsey. It was more than just her looks, her clothes and her bad-girl vibe.

He’d been brought up to never judge a book by its cover. Helen and Larry Martin had raised their four children to be fair and nonjudgmental. His liberal mother insisted on tolerance and compassion, and his father—Serenity Springs’ previous chief of police—truly believed justice was for all.

Nice sentiments, but Jack knew better.

Nine years working the streets of New York City, working his way up to detective, had wiped away any idealistic beliefs his parents had instilled in him. Tolerance and compassion were no match against the endless stream of violence and ugliness so many people faced day in and day out.

He’d learned to look beyond the obvious. To count on his instincts. At the moment, those instincts were telling him there was more to Kelsey Reagan than met the eye.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Jack turned to see Dillon Ward standing in the doorway. Ward’s usual cold, flat expression had been replaced with a dark scowl. And that dark scowl was aimed at none other than Kelsey Reagan.

Jack glanced at Kelsey. Gone was the cocky, go-to-hell attitude. Instead she seemed apprehensive. Nervous. Almost…vulnerable.

What was that about?

Kelsey got to her feet. “I…I wanted to see you.”

Her statement was met with silence. Not the comfortable kind, either. More like the oppressive, somebody-say-something-to-break-it kind.

“Well,” Allie said brightly, doing her part to ease the tension in the room. “I’m starving. I think I’ll just go make some lunch. Come on, Jack.”

“I’m not hungry.” He kept his eyes on Ward.

Allie walked around the bar and stopped in front of Jack. “I said—” she grabbed his arm and pinched, hard “—let’s go.”

Ow. Damn, that was going to leave a bruise. “Fine.” He twisted out of her reach knowing he could keep an eye on Kelsey and Ward from the kitchen. Allie grabbed her coat while Jack picked up her groceries.

“What was that for?” Jack asked when they were in the kitchen.

“What do you think?” She unloaded her groceries onto an old, large farm table. “They don’t need us watching their every move.”

“Wanna bet?”

She sent him an exasperated look. “You’re overreacting, Jack. Just because you don’t like Dillon—”

“He’s a convicted felon. A murderer.”

Allie’s expression darkened and she slammed a can of tomatoes onto the table with more force than necessary. “Dillon has paid his debt to society, and he’s been an exemplary citizen since he moved here. Besides, whatever’s going on between him and Kelsey is none of our business.”

“As chief of police, everything that happens in this town is my business.” He edged toward the doorway to watch the couple in question. “But, as long as Ward and his sister keep their noses clean, they won’t have anything to worry about, will they?”

KELSEY MET DILLON’S HAZEL EYES and emotions surged through her, too numerous to name, too frightening to acknowledge. The only solid thought she could grasp and recognize was that after so long, she was finally face-to-face with her brother again.

Too bad she’d only been fooling herself all these years thinking time would heal their wounds.

Maybe she shouldn’t have come. She barely recognized Dillon as the young man who’d given up his future for her. In his place stood a broad-shouldered stranger who looked at her with cold, emotionless eyes.