She could do this
All she had to do was remain in character. Be polite, say “hello” and act as if she wasn’t, at this very moment and every moment, terrified of someone—especially this someone—finding out her secret.
Resigned, she slowly faced Britney’s older brother. She couldn’t deny Nick Coletti was good-looking with his wavy dark hair, bittersweet-chocolate eyes and Roman features. He wore a snug, dark blue Police Academy T-shirt and faded jeans; a tool belt hung low on his narrow hips.
Her neck heated as she realized that not long ago, she would’ve been all over him. Thank goodness those days, and the person she used to be, were both long gone.
Dear Reader,
This book came as a total surprise to me. I’d already written three stories set in fictional Serenity Springs, New York, featuring connected characters, and I honestly thought all the stories in that town had been told.
I was right. But I was wrong, too.
You see, in my previous book, His Secret Agenda, there’s a short scene featuring a nondescript woman. A woman on the run from her powerful, abusive husband. A woman with secrets. A woman who lies as easily as she breathes and who’d do anything to keep her young son safe from the man who’d hurt him. A woman I had to write about.
But I knew Faith Lewis couldn’t stay in Serenity Springs, so I said goodbye to the town I’d come to love and ventured east to another small town, this one on the coast of Maine, where Faith and her son could have a fresh start. Where she could learn to overcome her mistakes.
Although I hadn’t planned on writing this story, I sure had a great time doing it. Faith and her hero, local cop Nick Coletti, don’t have an easy time of things but once they earn their happily-ever-after, everything they went through to get there was worth it.
I hope you agree and enjoy Faith and Nick’s story!
I love to hear from readers. Please visit my Web site, www.bethandrews.net, or write to me at P.O. Box 714, Bradford, PA 16701.
Beth Andrews
Do You Take This Cop?
Beth Andrews
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Beth Andrews never fell for a cop while on the run but she did date her non-cop husband while attending cosmetology school. Though she only worked in a salon for a short time, she’s kept up her stylist’s skills over the years by cutting her bangs (always a mistake) and coloring her hair in a never-ending battle against grays. Beth also loves to bake and is currently obsessed with finding the perfect red velvet cake recipe. To learn more about Beth, her books or to check out some of her recipes, please visit her Web site, www.BethAndrews.net.
For Helen.
Thank you for all your love and support!
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
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 FIFTEEN
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
NOT GUILTY.
The blood pounding in her ears, Lynne Addison stared blindly ahead as the judge thanked the jury and dismissed the case with a pound of his gavel. Lynne jumped, the sound echoing through her head.
At the table in front of her, her husband, Miles—the man she’d thought would make all of her dreams come true—gave his female defense attorney a hug before shaking his other attorney’s hand.
“Oh, thank God,” Sondra Wilkins said from the bench seat beside Lynne. Miles’s secretary then stood and hurried over to congratulate her employer, the man she idolized so much she was willing to do anything for him.
Even destroy evidence and lie under oath.
The courtroom erupted with movement around Lynne as people collected their things and left to enjoy the rest of a warm spring afternoon. She forced herself to turn, to look over at the chubby, light-haired eleven-year-old boy across the aisle. He stood next to his distraught grandmother while she spoke to the two detectives who’d gathered the evidence against Miles.
Lynne had overheard one of the members of Miles’s defense team remark on how unusual it was for a child—especially the accuser—to be present when the verdict was read. But she understood why the boy was here.
He’d wanted to see justice done.
At the bleak, dead look in his eyes, a primal scream rose in Lynne’s throat. She dropped her gaze to her hands, twisted tightly together in her lap, and clamped her lips shut. Damn it, if that poor boy was strong enough to survive not only being sexually abused by someone he’d trusted, but also the horror of having to testify about the unspeakable things Miles had done to him, then by God, she’d be that strong, too.
She had to be. For her own son’s sake.
Not guilty.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Miles asked as he approached her, his blue eyes shining.
She curled her nails into her palms. From all outward appearances, Miles was perfect. Handsome. Successful. A man who shared his time and talents with those less fortunate. A successful businessman devoted to her and their young son, Jon.
“Lynne,” he demanded in an undertone only she could hear as he kept his grin firmly in place, “I want you to congratulate me. Now.”
Lynne got to her feet, her legs shaking, her stomach churning as she stepped into her husband’s outstretched arms. She put her arms around him, her hands still fisted as he kissed the top of her head, his fingers digging painfully into her waist.
She shivered.
He stepped away, a look of concern on his face. For the people around them. “Honey, are you all right?”
“Actually…” She cleared her throat. “I’m not feeling very well.”
“Can I get you a glass of water?” Allison Martin, the head of Miles’s legal team, asked.
“No. Thank you. I…I think it’s all just…catching up with me,” she said weakly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just take a moment to…freshen up.”
“Let me walk you to the restroom,” Miles said, touching her arm. She forced herself not to shrink from him.
“That’s not necessary. Why don’t I meet you in the car?” Before he could answer, she walked away, making sure to keep her movements unhurried as she went out into the wide hallway.
Inside the ladies’ room, she rushed into the last stall, not even able to latch the door before nausea overcame her. Falling to her knees in front of the toilet, she retched, emptying the meager contents of her stomach. When she was done she flushed and, trembling from head to toe, got to her feet and stumbled out. Gripping the edges of a sink, she looked at her