Alias: Daddy Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  Dear Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  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

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  She was trouble

  But, Lord help him, he did love trouble.

  And he loved the way she was wearing her hair, flowing wild to her shoulders. Yeah, she was a stunner, his Irish. And then he noticed her pink dress. A redhead in a pink dress?

  His spine went rigid. It couldn’t be. Kerrie Muldoon was his blind date? His gaze ran the length of the mirrored wall he was facing—and he realized the bar was crawling with cops. That waiter. That waitress. That couple.

  And, of course, Kerrie herself.

  Good. None of them had spotted him. So, by dumb luck alone Nick Diamond, a.k.a. Roman Donnello, had escaped their trap.

  But then, Roman knew he could never really escape Kerrie—his one love, his Irish.

  Dear Reader,

  You’ve told us that stories about hidden identities are some of your favorites, so we’re happy to bring you another such story in our HIDDEN IDENTITY promotion.

  This month meet Nick Diamond, a.k.a. Roman Donnello, in Adrianne Lee’s exciting new novel, Alias: Daddy. Seattle homicide cop Kerrie Muldoon is about to have her worst nightmare come true, when she runs into the mysterious father of her two secret twin girls…

  Says the author, “I’m a Seattle area native, married to my high school sweetheart. I started out writing mysteries, but have always been a romantic at heart. It was only natural that I’d eventually combine my two loves. In 1991, the day after I’d given up writing for good, I sold my first book. It was seven years after I started writing seriously. So, let me ‘intrigue’ you—because I believe romance is best when it’s spiced with suspense. I love hearing from readers. For an answer and autographed sticker, please enclose a SASE. Write to me at P.O. Box 3835, Sequim, WA 98392.”

  We hope you enjoy Adrianne’s Alias: Daddy—and all the books that have come to you in HIDDEN IDENTITY.

  Regards,

  Debra Matteucci

  Senior Editor & Editorial Coordinator

  Harlequin Books

  300 East 42nd Street

  New York, New York 10017

  Alias: Daddy

  Adrianne Lee

  Special thanks to Carol Hurn, Mary Alice Mierz, Nadine Miller, Judy Strege, Toni Bronson, Gayle Webster, Susan Skaggs, Kelly McKillip, Anne Martin, Barbara Bretton, Susan O’Boyle, Tim Perry and My AOL loop sisters.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Kerrie Muldoon—The homicide detective’s secrets might well destroy her. Roman Donnello-Was that his real name or just another alias?

  Loverboy—Each new clue to this killer’s identity contradicted the last.

  Tully Cage—Was Kerrie’s new partner a good cop or a bad one?

  Jeremy Dane—Would he commit murder for his family’s honor?

  Mike Springer—Was this CPA in the red for murder?

  Cindy Faber—Was Mike Springer’s assistant as big a liar as he?

  Glynna Muldoon—Kerrie’s mother. Were her superstitions justified?

  Sophia Sommerville—The Muldoons’ neighbor saw more than was good for anyone.

  Dante Casale—Was this criminal really missing, or orchestrating the Loverboy murders?

  Chapter One

  Any minute now, the killer would walk through the door.

  Kerrie Muldoon shifted on the restaurant seat She was wired for sound, but feared the wire had come loose, that she couldn’t be heard. It was one thing playing bait to catch a cold-blooded murderer, it was another to do so without backup. “Cage, can you hear me?”

  “You’re comin’ in loud and clear, Muldoon.” Cage’s New Jersey accent tickled her ears. He’d been her partner since his transfer to Seattle six months ago, and she’d trust him with her life. Was trusting him with her life.

  “He’s late.” Impatience nipped her. She shoved her fiery tangle of curls out of her eyes. The door joggled. Her instincts kicked to full alert and Kerrie sat straighter, her gaze riveted to the entrance of F. X. McRory’s. The shape of a tall man filled the doorway. “Wait. Maybe this is h—”

  She broke off, swearing as the man’s face came into view, the greatest face God had ever created, a face she’d hoped never to see again…a face she remembered every day of her life.

  His blue-black hair was longer now, grazing the tips of his ears and the collar of his London Fog coat, but his ebony brows still cut straight slashes above eyes the rich amber of the tequila gold shots he favored.

  On another man, his bold nose would dominate, detract from his handsomeness, but on Nick Diamond it added strength, character. Too bad strength of character wasn’t one of his attributes. Her eyes swept his brazen mouth, and her heart kicked up a beat. She forced her gaze to his jaw, reminding herself that it was as square as the man was crooked.

  Self-preservation and fear collided inside Kerrie. She swore again.

  “Hey, Muldoon, what’s with the gutter mouth?” Cage’s voice blared in her ear.

  “Huh?” Kerrie hadn’t realized she’d even spoken; one look at the man moving steadily toward her table had stripped her senses. What the hell was he doing here? Now? After three years?

  “Hello, Irish.” His deep voice caressed her ears like the sweet, mellow notes of a concert violin. “You know, I wondered.”

  Steeling her body, she glared at him, trying to ignore the impossible and completely unacceptable thundering of her heart. “What did you wonder, Diamond?”

  “If this was still your favorite restaurant.”

  It had been their favorite restaurant. If Loverboy—as the press had dubbed the killer—hadn’t made a practice of meeting his victims in this bar for a drink, she wouldn’t be here now. “Old habits…”

  “It looks the same.” His gaze never left her face. Without an invitation, he pulled out the chair opposite Kerrie and, lifting a long, muscled leg over the back of it as though he were mounting a horse, sat. “But you…you look better than ever.”

  “Well, some things change and some don’t. You’re still spouting the same old blarney. Probably explains why you’re alone, Nick.”

  “And every bit as sassy, too.” His lazy gaze rolled over her. “Why do you assume I’m not meeting someone here?”

  Unwanted jealousy prodded her, and Kerrie jerked her chin a notch higher. What was the matter with her? This man was the biggest mistake shc’d ever made—and she never made the same mistake twice. “What a coincidence. I’m meeting someone, too. So, make yourself scarce.”

  “Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

  “We were never friends, Diamond.”

  A smoldering gleam warmed his golden eyes. Kerrie’s breath snagged. He leaned toward her. “You’re right, Irish, we were so very much more.”

  Fire burned a path through her belly at the memories he roused—memories she had never completely succeeded in burying, memories that could still haunt long, lonely nights. Damn the man. He would not turn her life upside down again.

  Cage’s voice sounded in her ear. “Muldoon, is this Nick Diam
ond guy our first suspect?”

  “No.” Heat spiked her cheeks. She’d-forgotten they could be overheard.

  But Nick thought the “No” was for him. His black brows arched and he reached across the table and grazed his knuckles along her jaw. “Don’t deny it, Kerrie. That little heart-shaped birthmark of yours isn’t exactly in a spot you’d likely show a casual acquaintance.”

  Cage whistled. “What little heart-shaped birthmark?”

  Mortified, Kerrie batted Nick’s hand away and reared back. One of the undercover officers acting as a waitress, witnessed the action and hurried over. “You ready to order?”

  Kerrie shook her head. Double damn. Nick Diamond was about to screw up this stakeout. She had to get rid of him. “No. This is not the man I’m waiting for.”

  “Then…I should come back later?” the waitress asked uncertainly.

  “Why don’t you do that?” Nick said.

  “No.” Kerrie glared at him. “He needs a table of his own.”

  “We don’t really have anything available right now. You could sit at the bar, sir.” The waitress suggested.

  “That’s okay. I think I’ll stay where I am.”

  The waitress glanced at Kerrie with renewed uncertainty. Kerrie feared she’d blow both their covers. She shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll handle it.”

  The second they were alone again, before she could vent her rage, he said, “You see, you don’t really want me to leave.”

  He was dead wrong about that. “I don’t really want to cause a scene, but I will if you aren’t out of that chair by the time I finish counting ten. One.”

  “I’ll go…if you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow.”

  “No. Two.”

  “Then you can count to ten a dozen times, I’m not budging until you agree to have dinner with me.”

  “Never. Three.”

  Cage cut in. “Accept, dammit, and get rid of this guy.”

  “I will not have dinner with you. Not now or ever. Four.”

  “Then lunch. Here.” Nick’s mouth curved in a wry, sensual grin as he rose slowly out of the chair, giving her the full effect of all that she’d been missing for three years. “Noon, Irish. Don’t be late.”

  So help her, she couldn’t stop her gaze from raking up his long, lean, completely masculine body. So help her, she couldn’t stop the ache of yearning deep inside.

  Cage’s chuckling did that. Stopped it cold. “Whew! Are you sure that Diamond guy’s not Loverboy?”

  “Positive.”

  “Then who the hell is he?”

  “None of your business. We have a murderer to catch. You worry about that.” She wasn’t going to concentrate on anything else. Certainly not on Nick, Diamond.

  From across the room she felt his eyes on her. She tried shaking off the sensation. She hadn’t gotten to the rank of homicide detective with the Seattle PD at the young age of twenty-nine from lack of stamina and willpower. She was thorough, methodical, gutsy. She had been to the wall and back.

  Her fierce pride would protect her, This time.

  But she was still a woman. And right now, that feminine side felt more vulnerable than it had in a good long while. If she hadn’t already set up three cocktail dates for this evening, she’d call off this stakeout and reschedule it for another night. But she was as stuck as a bug in thick jam.

  WITH HIS BACK TO THE BAR, Roman Donnello settled his gaze on Kerrie Muldoon, the redheaded spitfire who’d tangled up his life but good three years ago. So, she still thought his name was Nick Diamond. He supposed it suited his purposes to let her go on thinking that for now. He circled the thick rim of the shot glass with his index finger, his eyes focused on Kerrie.

  He’d been crazy about her…until he found out she was using him. That blow to his ego was almost as bad as the fact that she’d meant him real harm. He’d run as fast and as far from her as he could get and never looked back.

  The crowd noise elevated, and Roman could swear someone had called him a liar, the word a whisper in his ear, a murmur in his head. Although he’d deny it with his dying breath, Kerrie Muldoon had stayed in his mind like a recurring fever, haunting at least half of his dreams every week of his life since.

  He blew out an exasperated breath. She would have to be here tonight. He should have tried meeting his “date” somewhere else. Kerrie crossed her long legs beneath the table, one foot bouncing with impatience. His mouth dried. He gazed transfixed at the bouncing limb, remembering how those legs felt wrapped around him. Trying not to remember.

  She was trouble.

  Lord help him, he did love trouble.

  And he loved the way she was wearing her hair, flowing wild and free to her shoulders. It was usually braided, pulled off her face, that damnably, unforgettable face with its luminous emerald eyes, its long, straight, lightly freckled nose, and its sassy, pouty lips.

  He ignored the wild thundering of his heart, the quick hard pooling of lust in his groin. She was a stunner, his Irish. She took his breath away. But he supposed that was fair. He’d left her breathless on more than one occasion. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he savored the memory.

  Was the guy she was waiting for the man in her life now? Oddly that thought rankled him. Well, the guy had no class. Kerrie wasn’t a woman to keep waiting.

  He tossed back the shot of tequila, then clanked the glass on the counter. It wasn’t like her to put up with it, either. She’d obviously dolled up for the creep—in that scrap of a pink dress that was catching the eye of every guy in the bar.

  Pink dress?

  A redhead in a pink dress?

  It hit him like a jolt that the description his blind date had given of herself fit Kerrie. His spine went rigid. Kerrie was the woman he’d made the “date” with? His instincts flashed on red alert. Not Kerrie. He’d have recognized her voice anywhere. He’d spoken to someone else.

  What was going on? This time, letting his natural antennae operate, he glanced around the bar, blocking out the clamorous buzz of conversations, sports TV and clattering glassware.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered after a moment.

  “You say something?” asked the man occupying the stool beside him.

  “Talking to myself. Bad habit.” Roman spun toward the counter, and signaled for another drink, then lifted his gaze to the mirror that ran the length of the wall he was facing. The bar was crawling with cops. That waiter. That waitress. That couple.

  By dumb luck alone, he’d escaped their trap. Selfdisgust tweaked him. He should have spotted the setup immediately. In his business, that instinct had saved his hide more often than he could count. Irish had distracted him. Just like the last time.

  Their gazes met in the mirror and he raised his shot glass to her and winked. She glared and spun away from him. He chuckled to himself. He didn’t doubt she was still angry at him for leaving without saying goodbye three years ago, for screwing up her case, cursing him now for walking back into her life.

  Roman considered the exchange they’d shared earlier. Whatever had been between them three years ago still lived. He’d seen the fire in her emerald eyes. Felt it in every fiber of his being. “Starting tomorrow,- at lunch, Irish, you’re going to discover how it feels to be used.”

  KERRIE SQUIRMED on her chair. This had to be the longest stakeout she’d ever suffered through. Not only did her first date stand her up, but so did the second. All the while she’d felt Nick Diamond’s eyes on her. Nick Diamond. She scowled in disgust. A slick name for a slick gangster. She’d wanted so badly for one of her dates to be somebody spectacular, a man Nick would hate seeing her with. She hated- herself for caring what he thought. Hated herself worse, for being aware that he, too, had been stood up.

  He was the only person in the world she was genuinely afraid of and not just because of-her attraction to him.

  “I can hear your stomach growling, Muldoon. Maybe you should order an appetizer.” Cage broke into her dark musing, but her usua
l good humor had deserted her. Probably Nick Diamond’s fault. She could feel him watching her and didn’t dare glance around.

  “You’re right, Cage. It’s nearly ten. If date number three isn’t here in five more minutes, I’m calling it a night.”

  At that moment, a man, tall and blond, with a selfpossessed air came through the door. His three-piece navy blue suit fitted his lean body as if tailor-made. He glanced at his watch—probably a Rolex, Kerrie thought—then scanned the bar.

  She squared her shoulders, but the guy waved at someone behind her and Kerrie let out a taut breath. She had better compose herself before the next date or she’d never manage to make it through the interview. Another man appeared in the doorway. Instinctively, Kerrie knew this one was the one she’d been waiting for.

  It wasn’t his appearance, but the way he managed to draw no attention to himself, despite the pristine white dress shirt he wore—its long sleeves rolled to the elbows revealing well-muscled forearms—and jeans, creases ironed down the center of each leg. He, too, scanned the bar. Spotting Kerrie, he straightened, seemingly adding another inch to his six-foot-plus frame. Kerrie whispered to Cage, “He’s here.”

  The man had short brown hair, neatly combed, and cool blue eyes behind fastidious wire-rimmed glasses. He said, “Kerrie?”

  His voice was soft, stirring nothing more in her than the urge to ask him to speak up. “Yes. And you must be…” Damn. The guy’s name had gone right out of her head, thanks to Nick Diamond.

  “Ah, Jeremy Dane.” He offered her a pink rose.

  Kerrie smiled. He wasn’t the Adonis she had prayed for, but he would do. She thanked him for the rose and gestured for him to sit. Despite herself, she felt a smidgeon of satisfaction. She sensed eyes boring into her back. Nick Diamond, of course. She shivered, the satisfaction scurrying away as if it were a mackerel frightened by a shark.