A Proposal for Christmas. Lindsay McKenna
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New York Times bestselling authors Linda Lael Miller and Lindsay McKenna present two enthralling stories about the redemptive power of the holiday season
STATE SECRETS
Linda Lael Miller
Secret Service agent David Goddard never expected to spend his Christmas surveilling the president’s cousin. But after weeks of studying her, he finds that Holly Llewellyn’s life continues to remain a mystery. Tangled in the controversy swirling around them, David wonders, is it her secrets that fascinate him…or Holly herself?
THE FIVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS
Lindsay McKenna
Morgan Trayhern’s toughest mercenary, Colt Hamlin, is looking to lie low this Christmas, but he may just have a change of heart when his matchmaking boss puts him in the path of Montana’s prettiest widow.
A Proposal For Christmas
Linda Lael Miller, Lindsay McKenna
MILLS & BOON
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Table of Contents
State Secrets
Dear Reader,
The Christmas season is a beautiful time of year—full of family, joy and lots of presents! And as many of us can attest, it’s also a time when truths are revealed and the gifts we receive are not always what we expected. Filled with mystery, secrets and the love that surrounds this time of year, I am delighted to bring back State Secrets.
Holly Llewellyn is a cookbook author and a distant relative of the president of the United States. As such, being something of an outspoken renegade, Holly represents a security risk. Secret Service agent David Goddard is dispatched to keep an eye on her and make sure she behaves herself.
As with any other assignment, David has a plan of action: he’ll get to know Holly casually in order to satisfy the government’s curiosity. It’s strictly business. But when he unexpectedly finds himself taking personal interest, he’s no longer sure he can stick to the rules.
Falling in love isn’t one of Holly’s goals, nor is it part of David’s assignment. Still, love plays by its own rules, doesn’t it?
Love,
Contents
1
The tall man ran one hand through his dark hair and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Despite the heavy woolen overcoat he wore, he was still cold. Swift indigo eyes scanned the first page of the dossier. “So what, Walt?” David Goddard bit out, frowning. “She’s the president-elect’s third cousin. Since when do third cousins qualify for Secret Service protection?”
Walt Zigman made a contemptuous, impatient sound. Apparently, this assignment wasn’t exactly dear to his crusty old heart. “It isn’t protection, Goddard,” he snarled. “Remember that. This is a surveillance project.”
David sat back in his chair, drawing his right ankle up to rest on his left knee. “Surveillance,” he muttered, suppressing an unprofessional urge to fling the file on Holly Llewellyn back into the mess that littered Walt’s desk. “That isn’t our—”
“I know, Goddard,” Walt interrupted, falling into his own chair and reaching into one ink-stained shirt pocket for a match to light the cigar stub that was always in his mouth. “I know. I tried to give this thing to the Bureau. I even tried the CIA. But they both threw it right back in my lap. Anything connected with the president or his family is our bailiwick—according to them.”
David breathed a swearword. He was tired and he could still feel the bite of the crisp November wind outside. He wanted to get out of Washington and have Thanksgiving dinner in Arlington with his sister, Chris, and her family. He wanted to spoil her kids and lounge in front of her fireplace. “Okay, Walt. So Ms. Llewellyn is our problem. Why am I the lucky one?”
Walt chortled. “Born under the right star, I guess. Come on, Goddard, how bad can it be? You spend a few weeks—maybe a few months—in Spokane. You get the lady to like you. And you make damned sure she’s really what she claims to be, and not a courier for that brother of hers.”
David had the beginnings of a headache. He opened the dossier again, skimming the rundown on Holly Llewellyn. Twenty-seven years old. Blond. Blue-eyed. Five feet, seven inches tall. A one hundred twenty-three pound pain. “What makes you think she’s running secrets? It says here she writes cookbooks.”
“Middle Eastern cookbooks,” David’s supervisor imparted with dramatic import.