Yuletide Protector. Julie Miller

       “If someone gets too pushy or personal for you, call me about that, too. Anything. I’m not taking any chances with our star witness.”

      So the warmth of his hand on her arm and the patient, adult conversation was about protecting the outcome of his task force investigation. “You’re not taking any chances?”

      “No.”

      With a wry smile, Bailey shook her head. Spencer Montgomery had KCPD running through his veins. Any shivers of awareness she might feel at his warm hands or masculine smells or polite attention were misguided responses to a man who was simply doing his job.

      She was the surviving victim who could put away the Rose Red Rapist forever.

      “I’ll call,” Bailey promised. “If I suspect anything’s not right, I’ll call.”

      “Don’t go shopping by yourself. Make sure someone knows where you are at all times. You do whatever you have to to stay safe.”

      She’d had younger, more charming men hit on her with sweet words and shower her with gifts. But she’d never responded so easily, so basically, to any one of them the way she was reacting to Spencer Montgomery today.

      “I’ll try not to let you down, Mr Montgomery.”

      “You won’t.”

       You won’t.

      Did those last two words mean Detective Montgomery had faith in her ability to get the job done?

      Or were they a warning that he intended to make sure she didn’t screw this up?

      Yuletide Protector

      Julie Miller

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      USA TODAY bestselling author JULIE MILLER attributes her passion for writing romance to all those books she read growing up. When shyness and asthma kept her from becoming the action-adventure heroine she longed to be, Julie created stories in her head to keep herself entertained. Encouragement from her family to write down the feelings and ideas she couldn’t express became a love for the written word. She gets continued support from her fellow members of the Prairieland Romance Writers, where this teacher serves as the resident “grammar goddess.” Inspired by the likes of Agatha Christie and Encyclopedia Brown, Julie believes the only thing better than a good mystery is a good romance.

      Born and raised in Missouri, this award-winning author now lives in Nebraska with her husband, son and an assortment of spoiled pets. To contact Julie or to learn more about her books, write to PO Box 5162, Grand Island, NE 68802-5162, USA, or check out her website and monthly newsletter at www.juliemiller.org.

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      For Clarice Metz and Rhonda Glasford Metz, two of my Fulton fans. Mom loves it when you talk about my books with her. ;) Thanks for reading them!

      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

      Prologue

      September

      “I’ll save you,” she whispered into the phone.

      Brian Elliott looked at her through glass that separated them. The lines of strain around his blue eyes and handsome mouth were more pronounced. And the orange jumpsuit certainly didn’t flatter.

      After all she’d done for him, he still doubted her? “You don’t think they’re screening all my visitors? You’re tempting fate by coming here.”

      If he wasn’t looking so haggard, so in need of the comfort he normally sought from her, she would have been irritated by his doubt. Instead, she smoothed a smile on her face—for his benefit as well as the guards who might be watching. “It makes perfect, logical sense for me to come see you. Besides, you’ve had a lot of visitors, haven’t you? Too many for the authorities to focus solely on me.”

      “You arranged all those visits?”

      “Not many people can benefit from being associated with an alleged serial rapist.” She’d gone to work as soon as she learned the news of his arrest. “Some of your friends and business associates probably are truly concerned for your welfare. And I might have suggested to some of them how staying in your good graces would prove most beneficial once you’re acquitted.”

      He tipped his mouth closer to the phone that connected them and rubbed at his temple, as though the stress of the past couple of days had given him a headache. “How can you be sure that will happen? The police have eyewitness testimony. Experts from the crime lab to talk about trace evidence and DNA.”

      “The only thing their evidence proves is that you once fathered a child with a woman who’s now in a mental institution. The D.A. will never put her on the stand to argue that it wasn’t consensual sex. Everything else is circumstantial. A good lawyer will make that go away—and you’ve got the best attorney in town on your payroll. Any other charges are minor, and I expect you’ll get probation and time served.”

      Her heart twisted with sympathy when he rubbed at the cuts and scratches on his forearm, painful wounds inflicted during his arrest just days earlier. “All it takes is one woman to stand up and identify me as the man who raped her.”

      “An eyewitness?” Despite his pain, she had to laugh. “How can any victim swear it was you? They were all unconscious, and you wore a mask.”

      “There’s Hope Lockhart.”