Maverick Christmas. Joanna Wayne

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      So here she was in league with the sheriff. It was a strange bonding, one fraught with frightening possibilities. At any moment he could decide the risk of harboring her was too great.

      Josh sat down on the bed beside her and wrapped his arm around her trembling shoulders. She rested against him, as soft as a pillow of clover. And then his lips were on hers, and even vestiges of sane thought were stripped from his mind.

      He knew he was making a monumental mistake. But still he didn’t pull away.

      Chrysie trembled as Josh’s lips claimed hers. The passion surging through her was almost as frightening as the fear, the sweet, salty taste of Josh’s mouth foreign and forbidden. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong man. But the kiss deepened, and she couldn’t fight the thrill of Josh McCain along with everything else she had to battle.

      Maverick Christmas

      Joanna Wayne

      A heartfelt thanks to Paula Haines, Jay Miller, Vicki Sucher

       and Joyce Keiler, my golfing buddies who keep me sane. And always, a special word of appreciation to my wonderful editor Denise Zaza, who puts up with me. A hug to my husband, who has the patience to live with a writer. And most especially, happy holidays to all my fantastic and very loyal readers.

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Joanna Wayne lives with her husband just a few miles from steamy, exciting New Orleans, but her home is the perfect writer’s hideaway. A lazy bayou, complete with graceful herons, colorful wood ducks and an occasional alligator, winds just below her back garden. When not creating tales of spine-tingling suspense and heartwarming romance, she enjoys reading, traveling, playing golf and spending time with family and friends.

      Joanna believes that one of the special joys of writing is knowing that her stories have brought enjoyment to or somehow touched the lives of her readers. You can write Joanna at P.O. Box 2851, Harvey, LA 70059-2851.

      CAST OF CHARACTERS

      Chrysie Atwater—Child psychologist on the run who thinks Montana will be her haven, until she crosses paths with the handsome sheriff.

      Sheriff Josh McCain—He’ll break every rule in the book to keep Chrysie and her daughters safe.

      Jenny and Mandy—Chrysie’s two preschool daughters.

      Danny and Davy McCain—The sheriff’s six-year-old twin sons.

      Logan and Rachel McCain—Josh’s brother and sister-in-law.

      Jonathan Harwell—Chrysie’s murdered husband, a man with lots of secrets.

      Buck and Evelyn Miller—The cabin that Chrysie rents in Montana is on their land.

      Cougar—The part-time deputy.

      Vanessa Templar—Ex-secretary and possible lover of Chrysie’s late husband.

      Luisa Pellot—Jonathan Harwell’s law partner before he was killed.

      Angela Martina and Juan Hernandez— Houston homicide detectives.

      Mac Buckley and Sean Rogers—Paid killers.

      Grecco—Josh’s friend, who works for Homeland Security.

      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 One

      Chrysie Atwater rushed across the creaking floor of the civic center to pick up her young angel, who’d just been shoved to the floor by the unruly reindeer. The boy and his twin brother had been out of control all night, totally undisciplined and requiring constant supervision.

      “I want to go home,” Jenny announced as Chrysie helped her back to her feet and straightened her wings.

      “You don’t want to let one reindeer keep you from being in the pageant.”

      “He’s not a reindeer. He’s just an annoying boy.”

      A very astute judgment, but Chrysie wasn’t ready to pull Jenny out of the performance. Both of her young daughters needed some normalcy and social interaction with their peers, especially Jenny. Moving from town to town had been stressful for her.

      Which was why Chrysie was out on a frigid night, volunteering her services to Jenny’s kindergarten teacher, who’d taken on the unenviable task of directing the community Christmas pageant.

      Mrs. Larkey had the reindeer collared and was leading him toward them. “Tell Jenny you’re sorry, Danny,” she said.

      “I’m sorry,” he said, stamping at the floor like a frisky pony and showing no sign of remorse. In fact, mischief danced in his dark eyes.

      “No more pushing,” Mrs. Larkey said. “If you do, I’ll have to tell your father.”

      “Aw, don’t tell him. I’ll be good.” The kid looked up at the teacher and smiled, showing a gap in front where one of his baby teeth was missing.

      Chrysie followed Mrs. Larkey as she walked back to the stage to corral the singing Christmas trees, who were rummaging through the toys that were meant to be props. “Are those two boys always so disruptive?” she asked.

      “Pretty much,” Mrs. Larkey said. “Such a shame when their father is so nice.”

      “It’s none of my business, but…” She let the comment drop. None of her business was the operative phrase here.

      “Okay, Christmas trees,” Mrs. Larkey said, “put down the toys and get back on the platform. You have to be ready to sing as soon as Santa Claus delivers the bad news to the reindeer.”

      She turned back to Chrysie. “The sheriff does the best he can, but the boys are just too much for him.”

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