BEVERLY BARTON - Jack's Christmas Mission

Acting purely on instinct, Jack shoved the bedroom door fully open and then brushed the back of his hand against Peggy Jo’s flushed cheek. “My job is to take care of you. And that includes giving you a shoulder to cry on, if you need it.”

“I don’t need—”

He placed his index finger over her lips, adeptly silencing her rejection. “If you’re feeling a little shaky right now, that’s to be expected. And if you don’t want any of your friends to see you weak, then turn to me, Miss Peggy Jo. I’m your man.”

She stared at him, and for a couple of seconds he thought she was going to succumb. But suddenly the barriers came back up. “You’re mistaken, Mr. Parker. You’re my bodyguard. Nothing more. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed.”

Dear Reader,

The year is almost over, but the excitement continues here at Intimate Moments. Reader favorite Ruth Langan launches a new miniseries, THE LASSITER LAW, with By Honor Bound. Law enforcement is the Lassiter family legacy—and love is their future. Be there to see it all happen.

Our FIRSTBORN SONS continuity is almost at an end. This month’s installment is Born in Secret, by Kylie Brant. Next month Alexandra Sellers finishes up this six-book series, which leads right into ROMANCING THE CROWN, our new twelve-book Intimate Moments continuity continuing the saga of the Montebellan royal family. THE PROTECTORS, by Beverly Barton, is one of our most popular ongoing miniseries, so don’t miss this seasonal offering, Jack’s Christmas Mission. Judith Duncan takes you back to the WIDE OPEN SPACES of Alberta, Canada, for The Renegade and the Heiress, a romantic wilderness adventure you won’t soon forget. Finish up the month with Once Forbidden… by Carla Cassidy, the latest in her miniseries THE DELANEY HEIRS, and That Kind of Girl, the second novel by exciting new talent Kim McKade.

And in case you’d like a sneak preview of next month, our Christmas gifts to you include the above-mentioned conclusion to FIRSTBORN SONS, Born Royal, as well as Brand-New Heartache, award-winning Maggie Shayne’s latest of THE OKLAHOMA ALL-GIRL BRANDS. See you then!

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

has been in love with romance since her grandfather gave her an illustrated book of Beauty and the Beast. An avid reader since childhood, Beverly wrote her first book at the age of nine. After marriage to her own “hero” and the births of her daughter and son, Beverly chose to be a full-time homemaker, aka wife, mother, friend and volunteer. The author of over thirty-five books, Beverly is a member of Romance Writers of America and helped found the Heart of Dixie chapter in Alabama. She has won numerous awards and has made the Waldenbooks and USA Today bestseller lists.

In loving memory of my sister-in-law Winnie Sue Bradford, whose beautiful smile and boisterous laughter brightened the world around her. We love you, Sis.

Prologue

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

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

“I love you to death!”

Peggy Jo Riley stared in disbelief at the message scrawled in red paint on the mirror. Half a second later her mind registered that not only was her dressing room at WLOK totally ransacked but that her secret admirer had somehow gotten inside the television studio and into her private quarters, adjacent to her office. An adrenaline rush surged through her body, jangling her nerves. Her mouth opened to scream, but the sound froze in her throat, becoming a silent cry. What if he were still in here somewhere? Hiding in a closet? Behind the paneled screen where she often changed clothes? Beneath the daybed? Her accelerated heartbeat roared inside her head, temporarily deafening her to all other sounds.

The sudden touch of a hand on her shoulder jarred Peggy Jo into action. She yelled as she whirled around to face her attacker, ready to retaliate with the self-defense tactics she had learned from the experts who had appeared on her television show last year.

“Don’t!” the woman cried. “It’s me. Jill.”

With fear still pumping through her system like an insidious poison, Peggy Jo took several deep, calming breaths as she looked directly at her agent, Jill Lennard. Suddenly she remembered that Jill had driven in from Atlanta today because they had made plans to go out for dinner, after she taped two episodes of Self-Made Woman.

“Oh, God, Jill, I’m sorry,” Peggy Jo said. “I almost attacked you. I thought—”

Jill shoved past Peggy Jo to take a closer look at the dressing room. Shaking her head, she voiced a strong curse word. “No wonder you went berserk when I touched you. I was afraid this would happen. This is absolutely the last straw.” Jill backed out of the room. “Come on, we’re getting the station’s security to check for an intruder, and then we’re calling the police.”

“How could he have gotten in here?” Peggy Jo didn’t resist when Jill grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the dressing room and into her office.

“I don’t know how it could have happened, but after this, maybe Chet Compton will listen to me. As the station’s manager, it’s his job to make sure there’s enough security to see to it that no unauthorized people can just wander around in the building. This incident goes to show you what I’ve been trying to tell you for months now—this guy, whoever the hell he is, isn’t going to stop with just writing you dozens of sick fan letters and making threatening phone calls.” Jill gave Peggy Jo a gentle shove. “Sit.”

Peggy Jo plopped down in the chair behind her desk. “I’ll call security first, just in case he’s still in the studio.” Her hand shook as she picked up the telephone receiver.

Jill nodded and said, “Right. Call studio security, then call the local police. And if that detective dares to suggest that these threats aren’t real, that I’m probably behind them as some sort of publicity stunt, I’ll strangle him.”

As Peggy Jo dialed an inside line, she clutched the receiver tightly and curled her other hand into a fist to stop the trembling. “I thought…no, I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. I just don’t understand why this is happening. It’s not as if I’m some national celebrity.”

“Look, honey,” Jill said, rummaging in her purse for her cell phone, “I’m going to contact the Dundee Security Agency right now. You need around-the-clock protection.”

“No, don’t. I’ve told you I don’t want a bodyguard.”

“You can’t refuse,” Jill said, as she continued scrambling around in her oversize black shoulder bag until she came up with her address book. “You promised me that if things went beyond harassing letters and phone calls, you’d let me contact the Dundee Agency. I’m holding you to your promise.”

Peggy Jo sighed, then nodded agreement just as the studio security officer answered his phone. She explained hurriedly what had happened. He assured her that he’d give the studio a thorough check for an intruder and notify Mr. Compton about what had happened.

She simply couldn’t believe things had reached this point. And why now? Just when she had the world by the tail, when everything was almost perfect in her life. After all the years of struggling to overcome the past and be the best person she could be, at long last everything had fallen into place. Professionally and personally, she’d never had it so good. Her local Chattanooga television program Self-Made Woman was going into national syndication after the first of the year, and she’d be making more money than she’d ever dreamed possible. And her second self-help book had made the New York Times extended list and gone into a third printing. Her private life was filled with peace and contentment. She had a beautiful, healthy six-year-old daughter, who was the joy of her life. And even if she didn’t have a significant other, she didn’t lack for male companionship whenever she wanted it. And best of all, those relationships were always on her terms. She had come a long way from the days when she had allowed a man to run her life.

The minute she finished talking to Ted Wilkes, head of security, she dialed the police and was immediately put through to Detective Gifford. Despite the hint of distrust in his voice, the burly fifty-year-old police veteran told Peggy Jo that he would come to the studio posthaste. As she hung up the receiver, she heard the last few words of her agent’s conversation.

“Then we can expect him first thing tomorrow morning?” Jill said. “Good. Thanks, Ellen. I appreciate your sending one of your top agents for this job. Peggy Jo is more than a client. She’s a good friend.”

“Him?” Peggy Jo snarled. “They’re sending a man?”

“Yes, they’re sending one of their top agents. A guy named Jack Parker. Ellen assures me that he’s the best.”

“I don’t want a male bodyguard,” Peggy Jo said. “When we discussed this and I promised to agree to a bodyguard, you said you’d get a female agent.”

“I tried. Honest I did.” Jill widened her big brown eyes, a you-must-believe-me expression on her face. “The Dundee Agency has only a handful of female agents, and right now they’re all on assignments or they’ve already taken off for the Thanksgiving holiday this weekend.”

Peggy Jo groaned. Great! That’s all she needed, some big, sweaty, bossy man in her face twenty-four hours a day. It wasn’t that she hated men. There were a few she genuinely liked. But she’d had her fill—personally—of swaggering, chest-beating, womanizing hell-raisers. She’d been married to one a long time ago, and that experience had left a bitter taste in her mouth. And her own father had taught her how disloyal and unreliable men can be. No, Peggy Jo Riley depended on no one except Peggy Jo Riley, and the thought of a bodyguard, especially a male bodyguard, didn’t sit well with her.

She intended to lay down some ground rules with Mr. Jack Parker the moment they met. He had to know, up front, that she wasn’t a helpless female who loved the idea of being protected by some big, strong man. She intended to make it perfectly clear to him that he was her employee and she was the boss. She would be issuing the orders and making the decisions. And if he didn’t like it, he could just go straight back to Atlanta. Or straight to hell, for all she cared. Nobody—absolutely nobody—told Peggy Jo Riley what she could and couldn’t do. Least of all some man!

J ack Parker checked into the Reed House hotel in downtown Chattanooga, paid the bellhop an extra twenty bucks to bring him a bottle of Crown Royal, then turned on the sports channel and tossed his black Stetson on the bed. He had approximately twelve hours to acquaint himself with the details of this new case, one he’d been reluctant to take. He had heard about the Dundee Agency’s new client, Peggy Jo Riley, and knew her type well. The type who preached that men where the bane of every woman’s existence, and all the ills of society could be laid at the feet of the male sex. Hell, who hadn’t heard of the latest guru to American womankind, the up-and-coming Chattanooga talk-show hostess whose program was going into national syndication the first of the year?