Midnight Confessions Read online

  Jenn’s heart did a flip-flop.

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Books by Karen Leabo

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Copyright

  Jenn’s heart did a flip-flop.

  She knew her little girl had tried valiantly to dislike Joe. But bit by bit, Joe had won Cathy over. Jenn would have resented that fact, except she could tell that Joe hadn’t set out to woo Cathy. He’d simply treated her decently, kindly, responding compassionately to her fears and insecurities. Jenn suspected that was just his way. She wondered why he’d never married or had kids. He’d be a natural.

  And with that thought, Jenn was forced to admit that he’d won her over, too. It was sobering to realize that she no longer thought of him as the enemy, although his role in her life hadn’t changed.

  Now if only she could win him over...

  Dear Reader,

  The weather may be cooling off as fall approaches, but the reading’s as hot as ever here at Silhouette Intimate Moments. And for our lead title this month I’m proud to present the first longer book from reader favorite BJ James. In Broken Spurs she’s created a hero and heroine sure to live in your mind long after you’ve turned the last page.

  Karen Leabo returns with Midnight Confessions, about a bounty hunter whose reward—love—turns out to be far different from what he’d expected. In Bringing Benjy Home, Kylie Brant matches a skeptical man with an intuitive woman, then sets them on the trail of a missing child. Code Name: Daddy is the newest Intimate Moments novel from Marilyn Tracy, who took a break to write for our Shadows line. It’s a unique spin on the ever-popular “secret baby” plotline. And you won’t want to miss Michael’s House, Pat Warren’s newest book for the line and part of her REUNION miniseries, which continues in Special Edition. Finally, in Temporary Family Sally Tyler Hayes creates the family of the title, then has you wishing as hard as they do to make the arrangement permanent.

  Enjoy them all—and don’t forget to come back next month for more of the best romance fiction around, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

  Leslie Wainger,

  Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator

  * * *

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325. Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  * * *

  MIDNIGHT CONFESSIONS

  KAREN LEABO

  Books by Karen Leabo

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Into Thin Air #619

  Midnight Confessions #734

  Silhouette Romance

  Roses Have Thorns #648

  Ten Days in Paradise #692

  Domestic Bliss #707

  Full Bloom #731

  Smart Stuff #764

  Runaway Bride #797

  The Housewarming #848

  A Changed Man #886

  Silhouette Desire

  Close Quarters #629

  Lindy and the Law #676

  Unearthly Delights #704

  The Cop #767

  Ben #794

  Feathers and Lace #824

  Twilight Man #838

  Megan’s Miracle #880

  Beach Baby #922

  Man Overboard #946

  The Prodigal Groom #1007

  KAREN LEABO

  credits her fourth-grade teacher with initially sparking her interest in creative writing. She was determined at an early age to have her work published. When she was in the eighth grade, she wrote a children’s book and convinced her school yearbook publisher to put it in print.

  Karen was born and raised in Dallas. She has worked as a magazine art director, a free-lance writer and a textbook editor, but now she keeps herself busy full-time writing about romance.

  Chapter 1

  A steady drizzle darkened the dirty windows of Sailor’s Last Hope, making it seem later than early afternoon, so that Jenn Montgomery had to strain her eyes to study the newcomer. He seemed out of place here. Unlike the usual grunge who frequented the Pike Street bar, this man was too normal, too clean, too...suspicious.

  She didn’t like strangers.

  “Not bad,” Phyllis said, her gaze following Jenn’s as she mechanically filled beer mugs from a tap. “Must be from out of town and landed here by accident. No man that goodlooking would come here on purpose.”

  Jenn wanted to agree. He must be lost. But she had a bad feeling. The way his curious eyes kept casting about the bar, feigning casual interest but coming to rest more often than not on her, made her very nervous.

  Phyllis popped her gum. “You gonna stand here all day or take him a beer?”

  “I thought maybe I could persuade you to wait on him.”

  “Why?”

  “I... I don’t like his looks.”

  Phyllis cackled at that. “I’d have thought he was much more your type than the usual lowlife we put up with here. What’s wrong with him?”

  Jenn shrugged helplessly.

  “I’d gladly wait on him, but I got my hands full with that table of construction workers. Besides, Drake is watching me like a hawk, and he doesn’t like me waiting on single male customers, you know?”

  Drake was the Hope’s bartender, a beefy man with a gold tooth and too many tattoos to count. He considered Phyllis his woman and he was fiercely protective of his property. In the three months. Jenn had been waiting tables at the Hope, she’d seen Drake break one man’s jaw and give another a black eye, all because of a little innocent flirtation with busty Phyllis.

  Phyllis hoisted her full tray onto her shoulder and headed for her table of rowdy construction workers, so Jenn had no choice but to wait on the stranger. She pushed her short, dark bangs off her forehead and steeled herself for the worst.

  “What can I get you?” she asked, slapping a cardboard coaster onto the scarred tabletop.

  “Oh, hi. A light beer, please.”

  “We don’t have nothin’ light,” she said, adopting Phyllis’s style of speech. The first thing she’d lost after landing in Seattle was her Southern accent.

  “Okay, then, whatever you have on tap is fine. And how about a smile?”

  “Smiles cost extra,” she said, deadpan.

  Without missing a beat he pulled a five out of his pocket and laid it on the table.

  “That’d be kind of an expensive smile, don’t you think?” she asked.

  “I was hoping to get a name, too.”

  “Brandi,” she automatically lied, falling back on her current alias. “But you can forget about the smile—not till I’m home and in a hot bubble bath. You want anything with the beer? Pretzels are free, but you gotta ask for ’em.”

  “No, thanks, just the beer.” His own smile faded.

  He wasn’t used to being rebuffed, Jenn thought as she turned away. Only when she was facing the wall did she allow herself a wicked half smile. She’d enjoyed disappointing him.

  As she filled a mug with beer, her brief satisfaction faded and the knot of tension tightened in her stomach. What was that guy doing here? His clothes were casual—jeans, cotton shirt, leather jacket—but her practiced eye could pick out the designer names without seeing the labels. Even his artfully disheveled, dark brown hair bore the
mark of an expensive stylist.

  When she returned to his table to give him his beer, she wanted to ask him. But initiating a conversation would be stupid. The less she talked, the smaller the chance that she would be caught in a lie. Being paranoid was tedious, but so far it had paid off. In the six months she’d been on the run, the Rhymer County Sheriff’s Department hadn’t found her. Not even her stepfather, with all his connections and all his money, had been able to track her down.

  “That’ll be one-seventy-five,” she told the stranger.

  He handed her the five. “Keep the change, honey. Maybe you can use it to buy a new attitude. You might be a little bit attractive if you’d get your nose out of the air.”

  Rather than flipping back an answering insult—which is what she should have done, if she’d stayed in character—she stared at him, unaccountably frightened by that knowing look in his silvery green eyes. Was this man letting her know that he was on to her? Trying to provoke her? Merely fishing?

  After a few moments of stunned silence, Jenn found her voice. “I wouldn’t accept a tip from you if you were the last customer on earth,” she said, feeling around in her apron pocket for change. She slammed the money down on the table. “Drink your beer and then get the hell out. Our regular clientele might be a little rough around the edges, but they don’t insult the help.”

  She turned, ready to flounce away, when an awful realization hit her. In her indignation, she’d allowed her carefully stifled Southern drawl to pour right out of her. Her heart did flip-flops as she made her way back to the bar, followed by the sound of the stranger’s soft laughter.

  He knew who she was. She was absolutely positive. That meant she had to get the hell out of this place, leave without her week’s pay. Then she had to pack up her daughter and her meager belongings and flee Seattle. Because if the stranger had followed her to the Hope, he probably knew where she lived.

  She made her way unobtrusively to the back of the bar, as if she were merely heading for the bathroom. But the minute she was out of sight of the barroom, she whipped off her apron, pausing only to pocket the handful of coins she’d earned in tips that afternoon. She could buy a few drops of precious gasoline for her sixteen-year-old pickup truck.

  Her purse and jacket were tucked into a locker by the back door. She pulled a key from her jeans’ pocket and unlocked the padlock she’d used to secure the door—nothing was safe around here. She slung the canvas bag over her shoulder and was about to bolt out the back door when she noticed a light shining through the crack at the bottom of the office door.

  That meant Rudy was here. And Rudy, bless his heart, might be persuaded to pay her a day early. The owner of Sailor’s Last Hope might have a filthy vocabulary and hands that were a little too free, but beneath it all he had a soft heart.

  She tapped on the door. .

  “Yeah?”

  “Rudy, you got a minute?” she asked as she opened the door a crack.

  “Sure, babe, come on in. Drake giving you problems again?”

  “No, it’s not Drake. I... payday is tomorrow, and I was wondering if I might get my pay a little early.”

  “Like now?” he said around the unlit cigar clinched between his teeth.

  She nodded.

  “Money problems?”

  “Always. My truck needs work.” It wasn’t a lie. The thing was about to fall apart.

  She cast a nervous glance behind her, afraid that the stranger from the bar would come bursting through at any moment. Not that Rudy would let anything happen to her. He kept a .38 in his desk drawer, and rumor had it he’d used it a time or two.

  “I guess I can advance you the money,” Rudy said, pulling a cash box from the bottom of his desk. “But don’t tell no one, or they’ll all want their pay early.” He opened the box with a key, pulled out an obscene stack of green, and began counting out twenties.

  He started to hand her the money, then pulled back, taking in the jacket slung over her shoulder. “You’re leaving now?”

  “Uh, I have to, Rudy. It’s an emergency.”

  “What am I supposed to do for a waitress tonight?”

  “I’ll be back before the rush,” she said.

  Rudy saw through the lie. “You won’t be back, not tonight, not tomorrow,” he said, shaking his head. “Something’s got you spooked. I can see it in your eyes.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. Suddenly her eyes filled with tears. “There’s a guy out there.” She tilted her head toward the barroom. “I think he’s after me.”

  Rudy nodded and handed her the money. “You’re a damn good waitress, Brandi—or whatever your name is. You can find work anywhere.” He pulled a couple more twenties from the cash box and laid them on the desk. “That’s for your little girl—you make sure she has milk to drink and a warm sweater.”

  “Thanks, Rudy, you’re a peach.” Jenn tucked the money into her purse. “I gotta go.” She turned and fled before she really did start crying.

  It was colder than Jenn expected when she stepped out into the alley, and the penetrating drizzle reached to the bone. She stopped to put on the flannel jacket she’d bought just last week. It had been hot when she and Cathy had left Alabama, and she hadn’t thought far enough ahead to bring warm clothing. She’d been gradually acquiring the bare essentials of two winter wardrobes through careful garage sale purchases.

  She’d just fished her keys from her purse when a rough hand grabbed her arm from behind and twisted it behind her, simultaneously shoving her face first into a brick wall. Oh, God, no, she thought, momentarily frozen by her panic. She’d delayed too long by stopping in Rudy’s office for her money. Her greed had cost her the game.

  But then she realized her unseen assailant was tugging at her purse.

  Good sense dictated that she give him what he wanted. But, dammit, there was more than two hundred dollars in her wallet, money she and Cathy needed to make a fresh start someplace. Anger galvanized her into action. She kicked back with one foot, missed, tried again. This time she was rewarded with an “Oof” as she connected with a kneecap. The mugger’s grip loosened, and she was able to wiggle out of his grasp.

  But she wasn’t fast enough. He caught the edge of her jacket, and she found herself facing a teenage punk not even as tall as she was, with greasy blond hair and malevolent gray eyes, like a wolf pup’s. She almost could have laughed, if not for the big knife the kid carried.

  He grabbed for her purse again, attempting to cut the straps. Defying all logic, she held on to it. She’d been a victim long enough, and this time she wasn’t going to give in. She kicked at her assailant again, missed as he danced out of the way, then aimed for his groin.

  Her attack succeeded only in making the mugger furious. With a surge of strength he pushed her up against the wall and pressed his knife against her throat.

  “Look, bitch, what is the big deal? Just give me the purse, okay?”

  “No,” she said, choking on his stale breath and her own anger.

  “I’ll kill you.”

  “You’re a mugger, not a murderer,” she said with more conviction than she felt.

  He pressed the knife into the soft flesh at her throat. “Want to test me?”

  Suddenly Jenn came to her senses. Was it worth leaving Cathy an orphan to defend two hundred lousy dollars? She was about to give up the purse when the pressure on her throat abruptly ceased. An unseen force pulled the teenager away from her by the scruff of his neck. The knife clattered to the pavement.

  Her first thought was that Rudy must have heard the commotion and come out to save her. But even in the dimness of the alley, she could see that her rescuer, who was at that moment pummeling the mugger, was much larger than Rudy.

  With a last screech of fury and humiliation, the mugger ran. The other man turned. That’s when Jenn realized her rescuer was the man from the bar. He no longer seemed threatening. He was her savior.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. />
  She couldn’t seem to find the words to answer him. Her hands were still clenched around her purse. She was glad there was a wall behind her, because her knees felt weak as blades of grass.

  “You’re bleeding,” the man said. He whipped a handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket and pressed it to her neck. “We’d better get you to a hospital.”

  “No,” she said a little too vehemently. She deliberately softened her voice. “No hospitals.” She pulled his hand away, saw the blood, and started to feel queasy.

  He pressed the handkerchief against her neck. “Hold that there.”

  She mutely did as he told her.

  “Think you can walk? With a little help, maybe?”

  She nodded. He slipped an arm around her waist, and she managed to take a few steps, then a few more. As they made their way down the alley, she started to feel stronger. “My truck’s just around that corner, in the parking lot.”

  “Don’t you want to go inside and call the police?”

  “No. I just want to go home.”

  “I don’t think you should drive,” he said. “You’re pretty shaken up. Why don’t you let me take you home?”

  “No, thanks. Grateful as I am to you, you’re still a stranger.”

  He smiled then, and the effect was devastating. He had a dimple at the corner of his mouth, incongruous in his lean, chiseled face. “Let me get this straight. You just faced down a mugger with a six-inch knife, refusing to give him your purse, but you won’t get in a car with me?”

  “That’s right.”

  There was a long, ominous silence. Jenn held her breath, waiting for him to whip out his handcuffs and arrest her. But he said nothing as he walked her the rest of the way to her truck.

  They paused in front of the driver’s door. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”

  She nodded and pulled the handkerchief away from her neck. “It’s stopped bleeding. I’m fine. I’ll wash the handkerchief for you if you’ll tell me where to send it.”