When She Wasn't Looking Read online

  SHE WANTED TO TRUST HIM WITH HER SAFETY—BUT NOT WITH HER HEART…

  No woman could deny the appeal of the sexy deputy sheriff Jonas Porter. But to Courtney Allen, Jonas has one major flaw—his badge. Years ago, Courtney’s father was wrongfully convicted of a crime and she vowed to never trust a cop again. But when Jonas becomes the only man to believe in her father’s innocence, Courtney begins seeing the brooding lawman in a whole new way.

  Jonas knows in his gut that the real killer is still out there and determined to finish what he started long ago. To protect Courtney and bring the criminal to justice will require all the skills he can muster. And that means focusing on the job. Not the woman who makes him forget his troublesome past and arouses in him a passion that is anything but professional.

  Courtney’s gaze traveled over Jonas’s hand where it lay on his stomach, just touching his belt.

  Lean fingers, the same ones he’d spread across her back. Jonas’s hands made her think about fingertips brushing over bare skin. About heat and light.

  A crash like the sound of metal on metal brought her mind flying back to the present. Her feet hit the floor as she sat up and stared through the doorway to the back of the house.

  She leaned over with her upper body resting on Jonas’s thighs. “Wake up.”

  “What?” The sleepiness hadn’t faded from his voice.

  “I hear something.”

  His eyes popped open. “Where?”

  “Out back, upstairs. I don’t really know.”

  He eased her off him and sat up, slipping his feet into the sneakers he left by the couch.

  He stood up in a fluid movement, feet on the floor and a gun in his hand. Courtney had never felt safer.

  HelenKay Dimon

  When She Wasn’t Looking

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Award-winning author HelenKay Dimon spent twelve years in the most unromantic career ever—divorce lawyer. After dedicating all that effort to helping people terminate relationships, she is thrilled to deal in happy endings and write romance novels for a living. Now her days are filled with gardening, writing, reading and spending time with her family in and around San Diego. HelenKay loves hearing from readers, so stop by her website, www.helenkaydimon.com, and say hello.

  Books by HelenKay Dimon

  HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

  1196—UNDER THE GUN*

  1214—NIGHT MOVES

  1254—GUNS AND THE GIRL NEXT DOOR*

  1260—GUNNING FOR TROUBLE*

  1297—LOCKED AND LOADED*

  1303—THE BIG GUNS*

  1352—WHEN SHE WASN’T LOOKING

  *Mystery Men

  Don’t miss any of our special offers. Write to us at the

  following address for information on our newest releases.

  Harlequin Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Jonas Porter—A former officer with the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) in Los Angeles, who leaves the city and unwanted publicity behind for a calmer life as the deputy police chief in a coastal Oregon town. Then he meets Courtney and an easy assignment turns into a desperate bid to protect her and figure out who wants her dead.

  Courtney Allen—She’s a woman trying to live a quiet existence under a new name across the country from her old life, but her horrifying past keeps chasing her. She’s accustomed to running and working alone, but Jonas is not an easy man to ignore…or leave.

  Cade Willis—He shares a difficult past with Courtney. Like her, he has reinvented himself. But he’s not satisfied. He’s now using his contacts to track down Courtney and his decisions have far-reaching effects. Is he a victim or the killer Courtney fears?

  Kurt Handler—The powerful businessman has spent his life protecting his family and their security. He was there for Courtney when she lost everything all those years ago. He’s back in her life again, and danger seems to follow him.

  Walt Roberts—He is Jonas’s mentor and the county sheriff. He helped Jonas land his current law enforcement position and doesn’t want to see him lose it. The biggest problem is that Walt doesn’t trust Courtney, but the question is whether Walt can be trusted.

  Richmond Tobin—Jonas’s best friend. When Jonas needs trusted backup, Rich is the guy. He’s trustworthy and strong, but nothing in the case is what it seems.

  To Alison Kent for keeping me sane

  every day with your emails.

  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

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter One

  Jonas Porter yawned as he marched up the front porch steps to the Craftsman-style bungalow in the middle of nowhere. At ten in the morning he’d been on shift for more than sixteen straight hours, thanks to the Webber kid taking his neighbor’s car for a joyride that ended with a big splash into the Siuslaw River.

  When he took the law-enforcement position, Jonas had been promised relative peace and quiet by the county sheriff and Jonas’s longtime mentor, Walt Roberts. Since Jonas needed a break and crime didn’t run rampant in Aberdeen, the small Oregon town where the river dumped into the Pacific Ocean, the job looked like the perfect solution. If a drunk preteen with a lack of common sense turned out to be the biggest problem, Jonas could live with that.

  Agreeing to handle one small task on his way back to his place to pass out was probably not his brightest move. He needed sleep, but this should be easy. In and out, and then he could slip into bed for a few hours.

  He knocked on the dark red door. The rock beat thumping inside and shaking the walls cut off. He double-checked the house number to make sure he was at the right place. He expected an older lady, a grandmother type. He guessed this one liked her music loud, which blew his older-woman stereotype apart.

  In the resulting silence he waited for someone to open up. When no one did, he raised his hand to try again and nearly punched the woman who threw the door open.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled as he stared into big brown eyes filled with a wariness that appeared older than the rest of her.

  “Yes?” Her smile faded when her gaze traveled down his chest.

  A guy could get a complex. “Ma’am, is this your house?”

  “Of course.”

  The high cheekbones and slim figure didn’t make any sense. Young and pretty with shoulder-length brown hair, and not at all the lonely older woman he’d been told to check on. This one couldn’t be more than in her mid to late twenties. She wore a slim, long-sleeved red T-shirt and, if his guess was right, no bra.

  He pretended not to notice the last part. “I’m Lieutenant Jonas Porter, the deputy police chief.”

  “I got that much from the uniform and name tag.”

  “Uh, right. Sure.” She had him stuttering like the Webber kid.

  “Why are you here?” She wiped her hands on her olive cargo pants but didn’t shift one inch to let him in
.

  Young or old, she hardly struck him as a woman who needed police assistance to make sure she took her medicine on time. This one could handle her business without any help from him. The flat line of her mouth and clenched fists suggested she wanted to kick him right off the porch.

  “We had a call,” he explained. “I’m here for a wellness check.”

  Something flashed in her dark eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your husband has been trying to reach you and when he couldn’t—”

  Her grip tightened on the door. “My husband?”

  “Yes, ma’am. My understanding is that he’s away from home on business.” When she continued to stare at him with that you’ve-lost-your-mind expression, Jonas tried again. “He called a friend who called the police in Maryland who contacted my office. I’m here as a courtesy.”

  “Maryland?”

  Seemed she had a repetition problem. “Yes, ma’am. Your husband was worried you’d forgotten to take your medications.”

  “You think I need drugs?”

  Jonas refused to be thrown off stride. “Your husband said something about a bad fall recently.”

  “Is this a joke?”

  That was what Jonas was starting to wonder. “No, ma’am.”

  “You obviously have the wrong person.” She started to close the door. Right in his face.

  He caught the edge with one hand as the other went to the top of his gun. “Hold up.”

  The move was pure instinct. He’d once waited a second too long and vowed never to make that mistake again.

  She didn’t miss the move. Her gaze zipped to his weapon. “Excuse me?”

  “Let’s calm down for a second and walk through this.”

  “Do I look nervous to you?”

  “Actually, yes.” Something was wrong here. Very wrong. The request to his office had been clear. The husband had a friend who pulled some strings. This type of thing didn’t happen all the time, but it did happen.

  This had to be the place. Right number. Right street. The description fit right down to the colors of the flowers in the pot next to the door.

  Jonas took a deep breath and doubled back to try a new angle. “You are Margaret Taynor, correct?”

  Her face paled. She looked as if all the blood drained from her upper body.

  Yeah, definitely something wrong here. “Ma’am?”

  She shook her head as her throat moved in a hard swallow. “No.”

  “That wasn’t a very convincing answer.”

  “It’s not my name.”

  If he hadn’t been paying attention he might have missed them, but she showed some of the classic signs of deception—no eye contact, shallow breathing and the skin color that came right before someone threw up on his shoes. She dodged questions and gave half answers.

  “If there’s a problem between you and your husband, I might be able to help.”

  “No.” She blew out a few breaths.

  Jonas didn’t know what to believe, but the pieces sure didn’t fit. The wellness-check request didn’t match the person in front of him. This woman did not recently fall down and break her hip. Her biggest problem, as far as he could see, was with telling the truth.

  He wanted to know what was really going on. “If you’re more comfortable talking to a female officer, I can—”

  She waved a hand in front of her face. “I meant that, no, I am not Margaret Taynor.”

  “Yeah, you said that.”

  “Then are we done here?”

  As if he could walk away now and still deserve to wear the badge. “Ma’am, enough with the verbal games. Who are you exactly?”

  She stared past him, out to the tree-lined road and the mountains surrounding her place. “Does that matter?”

  He shifted so his back wasn’t quite as exposed. At this angle, he could swing around and aim for the yard or the house if he had to. “Actually, I think it does.”

  She nibbled on her lip. “Courtney Allen.”

  “And you live here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anyone else?”

  She edged the door tighter against her side and one step closer to shutting him out. “I don’t have a husband or a clue what you’re talking about.”

  Jonas slipped his shoe into the space between the door and the frame, though he doubted she’d think twice of breaking a few bones if she had to.

  “Do you know Margaret Taynor?” he asked.

  Courtney glanced at his shoe then let her gaze wander up his body nice and slow, as if weighing her chances of running. He’d seen it before. This was the second before panic gave way to stupid.

  “We’re done here,” she said.

  He reassessed. Not domestic violence. Maybe some criminal activity in her past. Something she hadn’t settled. “You want me to come back with a warrant?”

  “If you think you have probable cause, go ahead and try.”

  The woman knew her legal lingo. He took that as a sign she either watched a lot of television or had some personal experience in this area. “Ma’am, I think you should come with me.”

  Her shoulders straightened. It was as if she grew two inches just by standing there. “And I think you should move your foot before you lose it.”

  Wanting to see what she would do, he slid it back. “Fair enough.”

  “Goodbye, Officer.” She slammed the door before he could say anything else.

  So much for going off duty.

  * * *

  COURTNEY GLANCED through the peephole and saw the officer still standing on her porch. The guy had black hair, broad shoulders and an attitude that spelled trouble.

  But she had bigger problems than a six-foot-something guy with a gun. Margaret Taynor? Oh, she knew Margaret. Courtney also knew if someone was asking, he’d finally found her.

  With practiced quiet steps, she jogged to the back door and peeked out. The officer hadn’t slipped around to this side of the house. That meant she had time, probably seconds only, but she’d memorized the plan long ago.

  She had to run.

  She’d picked a house on this street on purpose. The neighborhood sat on the edge of Siuslaw National Forest. The lush woods behind the quiet property provided the perfect protection and the easiest escape.

  She’d never been one for luck, but today she had it. Low wind and the rain from the night before had cleared. A crisp, sunny spring day beamed in through her kitchen window.

  She eased the door open, scanning the open backyard for unwanted visitors. Branches from two trees bent over, forming a makeshift arch and beckoning her to the far end of her property. A tall fence outlined the yard. Nothing stood between her and safety. From here it was a dead run to the far gate.

  If she kept quiet, Officer Tall, Dark and Dangerous wouldn’t hear her. That was the hope. He could waste time fiddling with his radio and she could run.

  She held the door with two fingers to keep it from banging shut behind her. Two steps down and she hit the grass. Her cheap sneakers slid in the oozing mud, but she stayed on her feet. Air pounded in her lungs and a soft breeze whipped through her hair as she ran.

  She lunged for the gate and flipped the cover open on the small security box. A car key fell into her hand as her fingers typed in the code. After a click the outside alarm shut off.

  With one last glance over her shoulder, she said a silent goodbye to the only place that had felt like home in years. The pain of leaving ripped through her with the force of a blade. Her stomach dropped and her heart ached. She’d finally started to build memories, enjoy her work. She’d even made a real friend. She’d felt free to live again.

  But her brain knew those days were over. Running was the right decision. If she stayed, she’d die like the rest of them.

  Swallowing back the tears she refused to let fall, she opened the gate…and ran straight into the broad chest of Lieutenant Trouble.

  Jonas grabbed her upper arms and held her a few inches away from him. “Hello.
”

  Her voice deserted her. “Uh-huh.”

  “Going somewhere?”

  Her breath rushed out of her lungs and refused to come back. “No.”

  He smiled. “Good answer.”

  Chapter Two

  The woman with the truth problem tried to wiggle out of Jonas’s hold. “You have to let me go.”

  “Not going to happen.” With his patience expired, he shot her his best I’m-done-here glare.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong.” The tension over her shoulders eased. She switched from fighting to boneless.

  But he wasn’t ready to trust her, so he held on. “From my experience, innocent people don’t run.”

  “You’re kind of big to be that naive.”

  “Sounds like you have trust issues, but—” He reached for his radio. In that brief span where his fingers didn’t wrap around her arm, she took off. “You’ve got to be kidding. You’re running?”

  She crossed over the gravel road separating the back of her private property from the protected forest behind. Turning to the left, she slipped along the fence running parallel to the tree line. Not once did she look back.

  The great escape took all of two seconds and left him staring in reluctant admiration. At least he wasn’t alone in his cluelessness. He realized she actually believed she could pull this off.

  “Margaret…” He searched his brain for the name she’d used and shouted that one even louder. “Courtney.”

  When she didn’t stop, he took off after her. He could stay still and aim, call out a warning then hit the ground right near her with a shot. The move would scare the crap out of her, but he decided not to play it that way.

  He ran behind her, gaining on her and closing the distance with each step. Years of training, all those physical-fitness tests, served him well. At thirty-three he still ran a seven-minute mile.

  Shame he hated running so much.

  He’d almost reached her when her sneakers skidded on the loose stones and she dashed to the right. She headed for a small cutout in the fence where two poles met and only a slip of space waited. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she turned sideways and shimmied her way through the impossibly small hole.

  “Courtney!” He grabbed her foot but she kicked out, sliding out of his grasp as she tumbled back.