For His Daughter Read online

  “You shouldn’t tease me,” Kayla whispered.

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Books by Dani Sinclair

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  #551 MY BABY, MY LOVE

  Copyright

  “You shouldn’t tease me,” Kayla whispered.

  “What makes you think I’m teasing?” Lee’s steady gaze invited carnal thoughts.

  “You don’t even like me.”

  “I don’t know you, Kayla. But I’d like to.”

  Heat flooded through Kayla. Lee’s fingers moved to her face, brushing her cheek lighdy in what could only be called a lover’s caress.

  Kayla gathered her defenses. “Why are you suddenly coming on to me?”

  He stilled. “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “You know you are.” Her heart labored as if she’d been running.

  “There’s always been an attraction between us, Kayla. Isn’t that why you hiss and spit when I get too close?”

  He slid his fingers over the curve of her jaw, trailing them ever so slowly down the column of her throat toward the exposed vee of her blouse. Her body strained toward his in anticipation. She couldn’t find her voice to tell him to stop.

  Because she didn’t want him to stop.

  Dear Reader,

  While D.C. Police Officer Lee Garvey only had a minor role in Man Without a Badge, I was always curious about him and his malicious ex-wife. Characters who come alive that vividly for me generally have to have their story told, and Lee was no exception.

  Independent Kayla Coughlin presented herself as the one woman who could challenge Lee on every level, yet meet him as an equal. But somewhere along the way a fascinating thing happened. An entire town began to evolve around my protagonists.

  Fools Point, Maryland, doesn’t really exist, yet the setting and its residents expanded with every word I wrote. One story simply isn’t enough. The town is vividly peopled by a number of engaging inhabitants hiding little secrets just waiting to be discovered. With Baltimore, Annapolis and the nation’s capital only minutes away, the town continues to grow, and anything can happen.

  I hope you’ll watch for other stories from Fools Point and its residents as we move into a new millennium.

  Happy Reading,

  Dani Sinclair

  For His Daughter

  Dani Sinclair

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  Because they begged so nicely, for brothers Edward, Michael, Thomas, Charles, Robert, Richard and brother-in-law Ed. For special friends Barbi, Mary, Rhonda, Robyn and Vicki. For Tashya, whose support means so much. And for Roger, Chip, Dan and Barb, who are always there for me.

  Special thanks to Lynda Campbell,

  whose information was invaluable.

  Any errors are mine alone.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Lee Garvey — All he wants is custody of his little girl.

  Kayla Coughlin—She has the best reason not to trust a cop—but her heart tells her Lee is an exception.

  Meredith Gorvey—Lee’s little girl worships her daddy.

  Fay Garvey — Lee’s ex-wife is more trouble dead than alive.

  Alex Coughlin—Was Kayla’s brother having an affair with Fay?

  John Hepplewhite—The chief of police is smarter than anyone knows.

  Thad Osher—He likes being a cop a little too much.

  Elizabeth and Jason Ruckles—The hotel owners’ marriage is on the rocks. Who is responsible?

  Barney Trowbridge—What might the handyman’s obsession drive him to do?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  With the premiere of Mystery Baby for Harlequin Intrigue in 1996, Dani Sinclair launched her dream career. An avid reader, she never took her own writing seriously until her only sister caught her between career moves and asked her to write a romance novel. Dani quickly discovered she could combine her love of action/adventure with a dash of humor while creating characters who find love together despite the odds. Dani lives in a Maryland suburb outside of Washington, D.C., a place she’s found to be a great source for both intrigue and humor!

  Books by Dani Sinclair

  HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

  371—MYSTERY BABY

  401—MAN WITHOUT A BADGE

  448—BETTER WATCH OUT

  481—MARRIED IN HASTE

  507—THE MAN SHE MARRIED

  539—FOR HIS DAUGHTER

  HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

  690—THE NAKED TRUTH

  Don’t miss any of our special offers. Write to us at the following address for information on our newest releases.

  Harlequin Reader Service

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

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

  Chapter One

  Father’s Day, and she’d refused to let him see his daughter. Lee flexed his fingers, wanting nothing more than to flex them around his former wife’s elegant neck.

  “Not another dime, Fay. Not one.”

  Fay arched one tightly plucked eyebrow. Amusement showed in the nasty twist of her lips. “Then I guess I’ll have to sue for total custody of Meredith.”

  His fingers curled into helpless fists at his side. “No,” he said viciously.

  “Oh, I think so, Daddy.” Her husky contralto laugh slashed like razors. “After all, the divorce papers were uncontested. You did let me label you ‘unfaithful.”’

  “I would have signed anything to get rid of you and you know it.” The alcohol made him reckless. He knew better than to drink. Those beers, on an empty stomach, had gone straight to his head. Lee tried to steady the burning rage inside him.

  Fay laughed victoriously. “Of course you would have, darling. Too bad you didn’t know I was pregnant, huh?”

  Lee lost the battle for control. He grabbed her forearms in a crushing grip. “You don’t care about Meredith. All you care about is money.”

  Green eyes snapped with fire. “Take your hands off me.” Her sensual teasing disappeared.

  He shook her, wanting nothing more than to strangle the life from her gorgeous, manipulative body.

  “How much do you want, Fay?”

  “I want it all,” she spat at him, eyes glittering.

  “Fay?”

  The new voice stopped his angry response. For a moment, they stood there, a tableau of madness in the restaurant parking lot. Then sanity swept aside Lee’s anger and pushed back his alcohol-induced lunacy.

  Lee turned to stare at the newcomer, recognizing her slender form even in the darkness.

  “Take your hands off her,” Kayla Coughlin demanded.

  Beyond Kayla stood an entire crowd of onlookers.

  Lee dropped his hands, feeling suddenly light-headed. Shock at what Fay had almost driven him to couldn’t entirely numb his fury.

  “Get out of here,” he snarled at her friend.

  “No.”

  The stubborn woman held her ground, tossing a swatch of hair from her eyes with a swing of her head. Her gaze bored into him accusingly, never leaving his face as she addressed her friend. “Fay, are you okay?”

  Fay’s bright laughter trilled, overlaid with bitterness. “Of course,
I am. My darling ex-husband was just about to leave, weren’t you, Lee?”

  The alcohol made him dizzy. Or maybe that was rage. He turned back to the incredibly beautiful woman who had once been his wife. He lowered his voice to a bare whisper of fury. “You won’t see one more dime, Fay.”

  For a moment, fear wiped away her beauty. Fay recovered quickly. “Are you threatening me, darling?” she asked in a voice deliberately pitched to carry clearly.

  “Believe it,” he snarled quietly. “If it takes every cent I have, I’ll prove what sort of creature you are. And I’ll get my daughter back.”

  She took a half step back from his cold fury.

  “Get away from her,” Kayla demanded.

  Lee didn’t look in her direction.

  “Don’t come near me!” Fay cried, cringing.

  She was playing to her audience as she always did. But Lee didn’t care anymore. Anger welled in him, pushing past his common sense.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to get my daughter,” he told her. And he meant every word.

  A wave of dizziness rushed over him. Had he drunk more than two beers? He couldn’t remember. Everything felt blurry, out of focus. But one thing he recognized—he was making a fool of himself.

  A hand gripped the sleeve of his bright green windbreaker. He looked at the slender fingers coiled about the material and found his own fingers clenched in a fist again.

  “Stay out of this,” he warned Kayla. He’d faced down hardened criminals with that tone, but it obviously didn’t work on small, determined women. Kayla scowled right back at him.

  “You’re drunk,” she accused.

  He stared at her, feeling the first stirrings of shame. Pale blue loathing glared back at him.

  “Yes, I think I am,” he said distinctly. “It’s Father’s Day and I didn’t even get to see my daughter.”

  The contempt in her eyes died, changing to something else. Pity? He didn’t need or want her pity.

  Embarrassment pushed his anger back to a manageable level. The small knot of people had drawn closer. Lee had just enough common sense left to realize how potentially destructive this scene had become.

  He reeled away from the delicate hand that held him prisoner. Away from those disturbing eyes. He started back toward the restaurant. In a matter of minutes, he was going to be ill, and pride wouldn’t let him throw up in front of those pale blue eyes.

  At least the rain had stopped.

  Fay began to laugh at his back. The shrill sound mingled with the bile crawling up his throat. More than anything in the world, he’d like to strangle that sound from her swanlike throat.

  “Happy Father’s Day, darling,” she called after him.

  He fanned his anger in order to keep walking and cursed himself for a fool. And the world began fading to black.

  THE PRESSING VEIL OF FOG lifted slowly. The devil himself pounded out a rhythm behind Lee’s eyes. If Lee moved, his head would roll right off his neck. If he didn’t move, the dryness in his throat would suck away every trace of moisture from his body. He’d probably turn to dust right here on the bed.

  Bed.

  He was in a bed, lying on his side.

  No pillow? No blanket?

  Lee lay quietly, absorbing those strange facts. His head throbbed viciously. His throat cracked with dryness.

  So this was a hangover. He’d never managed to drink to this point before. His body chemistry had no tolerance for alcohol.

  He opened his eyes carefully. An unfamiliar wall stared back at him.

  Huh? With care, he shifted, his left arm brushing against another form.

  He wasn’t alone in the bed?

  Lee froze, trying to think. Trying to remember. The body next to his didn’t move, but something wet soaked the left side of his shirt. He was cold, he realized. And confused. He was also starting to feel apprehensive.

  What had he done?

  Lee blinked rapidly in an effort to clear his vision. Tacky, institutional-type prints hung on the opposite wall. He was in his motel room. Wasn’t he?

  He swallowed a groan. Surely he hadn’t been so stupid—so drunk and stupid—that he’d picked up some woman last night. He took a deep, steadying breath and the smell of roses assailed his nostrils, threatening the uneasy tranquility of his stomach.

  Lee tried to swallow past the unbearable dryness in his throat and shifted. His shoe bunched in the comforter.

  Shoe? He’d gone to bed with a woman fully dressed?

  Yep. Jeans, shirt, even his shoes. The only thing missing was his jacket.

  Somewhere in the room, an air conditioner kicked to life with a loud grumble that set his heart pounding. The room was already cold. Almost frosty. The wet spot on his shirt clung to his skin uncomfortably. He shivered and shifted slightly, wincing at the pain in his head. His belt holster dug into his back.

  Wrong. It felt wrong.

  Too light, he decided. Empty.

  Anxiety turned to fear. He rolled slowly to his left.

  A familiar spill of red hair tumbled across the pillow on which her head rested. Even in profile, he saw the mocking curl of a smile at the edges of Fay’s scarlet-painted lips.

  Horror thundered through him.

  Lee jerked to a sitting position, instantly regretting the action. Lasers of pain blinded him. Nausea pushed against the back of his throat. He shut his eyes to counter the white-hot wash of agony in his head and tried desperately to remember.

  He wouldn’t have slept with her. Not again. Never again.

  What was he doing here? What was she doing here? All he could remember was a pair of accusing blue eyes. Kayla?

  As from a dream, bits of memory surfaced. Father’s Day. Fay. Confrontation. A parking lot. A host of watchers and a rare surge of fury. What had he done?

  Lee slitted his eyes to peer at his ex-wife, half expecting her to be watching him. It took him a minute to absorb the fact that Fay wouldn’t watch him ever again.

  Oh, God, he’d killed her! Blood saturated the ivory nightgown, staining the bed with vivid color. Belatedly he realized he’d rolled into a puddle of congealing blood that had soaked the bedspread beneath them.

  He whirled from the bed in a jerky motion that left him panting in pain and fear.

  Think! Remember! Adrenaline pushed past the muzzy barrier in his mind. Okay, he despised her, but he would never actually have killed her.

  He stood there, swaying slightly. If he hadn’t killed her, someone else had. Training finally overrode the terror pounding through his bloodstream. He dropped to a crouch beside the bed, sweeping the room with experienced eyes. Nothing. No one.

  The silence was complete beyond the straining sounds of the air conditioner. Lee shivered again. The room was terribly cold. To mask the time of death?

  Instinct told him he was alone with the corpse. He forced his mind to focus on details.

  A dozen yellow roses, her favorite, in a vase on the table. A partially empty bottle of champagne in an ice bucket filled with slowly melting water. Two longstemmed glasses—one empty with lipstick traces, one halffull. The champagne would be imported from France, of course. That was the only type she drank. And the open candy box on the table would contain another favorite, chocolate-covered cherries.

  His gaze landed on her corpse. Nausea surged insistently. Even from his crouched position he could see the bruises on her forearm. Bruises he knew he’d inflicted when he grabbed her—in front of at least a dozen witnesses.

  Oh, God, what had he done?

  He forced himself to stand and study her with detachment. Three shots to the chest. Close range. Yet, she was almost smiling. That sly, seductive smile that had once taunted him to madness.

  Rigor mortis had set in. In fact, he was pretty sure it was wearing off. That meant she’d been dead for hours. He’d lain next to a corpse most of the night?

  Lee wanted to vomit. He had to wait for the sensation to ebb, then slowly he climbed to his feet. His right foot kicked somethin
g heavy, sending it skittering under the bed. He spotted the missing pillow on the floor on the other side of the bed. Slowly, carefully watching where he put each foot, he came around the bottom of the bed.

  Holes marred the pillowcase. Holes and powder bums. The pillow had been used as a silencer. No need to check what he’d just kicked under the bed. His hand went to his empty holster. He’d just kicked the murder weapon under the bed.

  Lee tried to stop shaking. He wished he could think past the pounding in his head. Pain splintered his vision. None of this made sense. Even drunk, he wouldn’t shoot Fay and then walk around the bed and fall asleep next to her. Think!

  The pillow implied premeditation. But he hadn’t been capable of that much thought last night. What had happened to him? Why did he feel so muzzy? Why couldn’t he remember?

  Scared as he’d never been scared before, Lee rubbed his jaw, feeling the bristles of new growth. If he refused to accept that he’d shot Fay, he had to come up with another suspect.

  And that someone had put him on the bed beside her?

  Okay...maybe. Go with that assumption for now. It was better than those other thoughts.

  Then what? The murderer dropped the gun onto the floor to make it look as if it had fallen from Lee’s fingers?

  Why not? As long as the murderer wiped his own prints from anything he’d touched, he could leave and no one would know. To leave, he’d have to go out the main door or the sliding glass door on Fay’s side of the bed.

  Lee shook all over, one step away from incipient panic.

  Not good, Garvey, he told himself silently. Get a grip. You’ve got to keep thinking. Use your training.