LITMIR.BIZ

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      So many people, so little space! We wholeheartedly dedicate this book to everyone at Harlequin Books in Toronto for…well, for everything. But mostly for making it possible to do what we love doing most. Especially Birgit Davis-Todd, Randall Toye, Brian Hickey, Stuart Campbell, Katherine Orr, Stacy Widdrington, Maureen Stead, Carolyn Flear, Helen Higginson, Jennifer Tam, Meghan Dillon, Krystyna de Duleba, Amy Chen and—last but certainly not least, Brenda Chin without whom none of this would be possible. Thanks to all, named and unnamed! Without you, we’d still be writing stories that would make it no farther than our closet floor.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Epilogue

      1

      “JAKE, DO I EVER HAVE THE WOMAN FOR YOU….”

      Jake McCoy tucked his chin toward his chest and squinted against the September morning sunlight. If any words could put the fear of God into him, those were it. Melanie, his younger brother Marc’s new wife, had said them at the McCoy place last night—right after his other brother Mitch’s new wife, Liz, took a perfectly good chicken and mutilated it beyond recognition for Sunday dinner.

      His measured footsteps echoed off the asphalt of the parking lot across the street from the Immigration and Naturalization Service field office building in Arlington, Virginia. He hadn’t responded to Mel’s frightening proposition. Marc had answered for him, reminding his pregnant wife that Jake wasn’t interested in a woman. That none of the McCoy men were. They had to be bitten in the ass before any of them would even consider the idea of marriage.

      Jake had been embarrassed by the resulting laughter.

      Then again, how was Marc to know how very close he’d come to getting married? Long before his younger, brash brother had even had his first sexual experience.

      He tightened his grip on the files he held in his left hand, then absently moved his other hand to pat the breast of his jacket. Perhaps close wasn’t exactly the word for his only brush with the M word. He’d been close. The woman he’d been dating, Janice Tollerby, was shocked when he’d pulled out the simple gold ring and proposed on their fourth date.

      He still couldn’t figure that one out. He’d known on their first date that he and conservative Janice could form a workable union. It was unimportant that he was new to the dating scene and that they hadn’t known each other long.

      For the first time he’d cut loose, taken a chance. And for the second time, he’d lost an important woman in his life.

      He’d never taken a risk like that again.

      He was a simple man, with simple tastes. He respected and appreciated routine, stability, discipline. He got up every morning at five-thirty, no matter what time he made it to bed. His need for simplicity was what led him to work for the INS. Those who didn’t belong within the country’s borders, or were no longer welcome, he sent home. Couldn’t get neater than that. In fact, if not for his brothers, he’d probably never use any of his vacation time. It was difficult for him to justify leaving important cases in limbo even for a day. In an unpredictable world, he liked predictability. It comforted him to find the same selections in his refrigerator. When he replaced his furniture, he bought like pieces. And he had six identical dark brown suits in his closet. One for each workday, and an extra just in case.

      His older brother Connor especially took great joy in teasing him about what he referred to as his anal tendencies. It didn’t bother him. Well, most of the time, anyway.

      It was a mystery still how David had managed to talk him into five days of hiking—hiking, for cripe’s sake—through the Blue Ridge Mountains. With everything they needed strapped to their backs. Jake grimaced.

      He patted the left breast of his suit jacket again. The familiar billfold holding his INS agent ID wasn’t there. It hadn’t been lying on his bedroom bureau that morning when he got up. And a thorough search of his apartment and car hadn’t turned it up, either. He supposed it was possible he’d left it at the McCoy place last night, though not probable. There was no reason for him to have taken his ID out of the back pocket of his Dockers.

      Then again, he wouldn’t put it past one of his brothers to lift the sucker so he’d have to take his vacation, which officially started today.

      Vacation. What David had planned sounded more like hell on earth.

      He

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