Randall Honor. Judy Christenberry

      Randall Honor

      Judy Christenberry

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Judy Christenberry has been writing romances for fifteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers do. A former French teacher, Judy now devotes herself to writing full-time. She hopes readers have as much fun reading her stories as she does writing them. She spends her spare time reading, watching her favorite sports teams and keeping track of her two daughters. Judy’s a native Texan, but now lives in Arizona.

      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 Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Epilogue

      Chapter One

      Dr. Jonathan Wilson opened the door of Randall Accounting, a grimace on his face. Two days in town and he already had to deal with a number cruncher. Not his favorite thing.

      But Dr. Jacoby had insisted.

      He’d expected life to be different here. After all, Rawhide, Wyoming, was a lot smaller than Chicago. He supposed he’d been unrealistic. Everything always seemed to come down to numbers, or maybe he should say dollars, even in this small town. After years of med school, he should know that.

      “May I help you?”

      The cool, educated voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Sitting in the large reception area, a petite blonde greeted him.

      He guessed something else was the same as in Chicago. Beautiful women hovering near money. He’d bet this woman wouldn’t be able to tell a debit from a credit. She was there to find out who had money and how she could get some.

      “Russ Randall, please,” he said briskly. He’d learned his lesson from his poor father. Avoid blond leeches if at all possible.

      Her delicate eyebrows lifted slightly, as if she heard disdain in his voice. Not a way to make friends in this small town.

      “I’m sorry, he’s not in right now. May I take a message?”

      Jon was surprised that Randall had such professional help in a small town. She sounded almost as businesslike as he. “When do you expect him back?”

      “I’m not sure. Could you tell me the nature of your business?”

      She really was quite beautiful, but then his mother had been beautiful, too. Beautiful, greedy and self-centered.

      He tried to find a pleasant way to refuse to answer. He didn’t want to make her mad. Finally he said, “It’s private.”

      Any friendliness he’d imagined he’d seen disappeared. Her face expressionless, she said, “Russ is at lunch. He’ll return in about an hour. You may wait, or I’ll ask him to call you.” Without waiting for an answer, she picked up a pen and turned to the papers on her desk.

      He stood there, feeling the coldness of her manner. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. “Is there someone who could show me the apartment he has for rent? It had this same address.”

      Her head came up and she stared at him. “Who sent you here?”

      “Why? Is the apartment a secret?”

      “Dr. Wilson, we’re normally a little more open in Rawhide. You might want to make a note of that.” She opened her desk drawer and pulled out some keys. “This way.”

      “How did you know who I am?”

      “Certainly not from your friendly greeting.”

      She’d circled him and was going out the front door. He decided he’d better follow her. He could determine her source of information later.

      The accounting office appeared to occupy half the ground floor of the small building. The other half was a newspaper office. According to the sign painted on the window, its name was the Rawhide Roundup. Oh, yeah, that would probably be the same as the Chicago Tribune with hard-hitting news and in-depth articles about scientific discoveries.

      He sighed but kept going, following in the blonde’s wake, unconsciously noting her trim behind in nicely tailored slacks.

      At the edge of the building, she turned a sharp left and began climbing a stairway that ran up the side of the building.

      He peeked over the railing as he climbed and saw what looked like a parking lot behind the building. “Is there parking back there?”

      “Yes.”

      Okay. She was mad at him. Good thing she wasn’t going to be his landlord. She’d never let him move in in the first place.

      She reached the landing and then turned left again, going to the front of the building. She paused in front of two doors and unlocked the door on the right. She walked inside and folded her arms over her nicely formed chest. Not that he noticed.

      “The apartment has two bedrooms and two baths, a full kitchen, including a microwave, refrigerator and dishwasher. The floors are hardwood in here, but the bedrooms are carpeted. There’s no air-conditioning, but it has gas heat, and the fireplace is gas.”

      She remained in the center of the room, looking as unfriendly as ever.

      “Thank you. May I look around?”

      She sighed. “Of course. I’m returning to our office. Please lock the door when you leave.” Then she walked out.

      And he still didn’t know who she was or how she knew his name.

      VICTORIA RANDALL MUTTERED several words under her breath in reference to the man she’d left upstairs. Her mother, Anna, had stopped by the office yesterday, bragging about the new doctor in town. According to Anna, the man was brilliant, handsome and single.

      She’d have to take her mother’s word on two out of three of those traits. Anna worked part-time as a nurse and midwife in the area, so presumably she’d know.

      He was handsome, all right. But Tori knew he was a snob and unfriendly. He’d thought he was dealing with a receptionist, and he was much too important to even introduce himself. And he was going to be her neighbor?

      She reached the office and sat down at her desk, trying to fix her mind on the work at hand. She had a lot to do. Business was good. After she’d gotten her accounting degree and the C.P.A. designation, she’d studied for her broker’s license, too. Their offices, hers and Russ’s, offered full financial services.

      She’d bought in as Russ’s partner after Bill Johnson had died. He’d had the original practice and Russ had become his partner. When Bill passed away, Russ had bought the office building and the accounting business from his widow. That big an investment had made things difficult. He’d been pleased when Tori had expressed an interest in investing with him.

      So,