The Marine. Leah ValeЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Lynn stared.
Rick Branigan stood there the way he had on the first day she’d met him. Stubborn. Taciturn. And utterly unimpressed with the McCoys’ billions.
The colonel gave a short nod. Decision made. “Well, I’ve only known this marine to make one mistake.” He looked at her. “If he’s doing what he thinks is best, I’ll support him until he tells me to do otherwise.”
Lynn gasped. The colonel was making the DUI hit-and-run sound like a brain burp, the same as shaking a salad dressing bottle without the lid on tight. But this was one colossal mess that Rick shouldn’t be allowed to clean up on his own.
Especially when he was most likely innocent.
Dear Reader,
Honor, courage and commitment. Necessary ingredients in the making of a hero, as far as I’m concerned. And, not surprisingly, the central values of the United States Marine Corps. Personally, I believe a marine is one of the ultimate heroes—a man who is, by definition, always faithful.
He’s the perfect man to pit against the billionaire McCoys as they try to quietly bring home the deceased Marcus McCoy’s illegitimate prodigy in this third installment of THE LOST MILLIONAIRES series.
Major Rick Branigan is an exemplary marine until his faithfulness to an old friend threatens to cost him everything. The last thing he needs or wants is to become part of the McCoy dynasty.
Lynn Hayes, the corporate lawyer sent to extract the major from his troubles and escort him back to Dependable, Missouri, lives by the motto No Ties, No Limits. But nothing could be more limiting to her plans for a secure future than Rick’s refusal to cooperate.
Only together can these two learn the true meaning of honor. Through the power of love, of course!
I’m always happy to hear from readers. Please visit me at www.leahvale.com.
Leah Vale
The Marine
Leah Vale
MILLS & BOON
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For Rod and Joan, the best in-laws a girl could ever hope for.
Not to mention shining examples of love and honor.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to Orrin Grover for his legal advice and willingness to play “what if?”
An extra-special thank-you to Colonel Al Arguedas, USMC, Retired, for his knowledge, insight and much-appreciated humor.
Any errors are the author’s and probably on purpose.
Contents
Chapter One
Dear Major Branigan:
It is our duty at this time to inform you of the death of Marcus McCoy due to an unfortunate, unforeseen encounter with a grizzly bear while fly-fishing in Alaska on June 8 of this year, and per the stipulations set forth in his last will and testament, to make formal his acknowledgment of one USMC Major Rick Thomas Branigan, age 33, of 7259 Villa Crest Drive, #12, Oceanedge, California, as being his son and heir to an equal portion of his estate.
It is the wish of Joseph McCoy, father to Marcus McCoy, grandfather to Rick Branigan and founder of McCoy Enterprises, that you immediately assume your rightful place in the family home and business with all due haste and utmost discretion to preserve the family’s privacy.
Regards,
David Weidman, Esq.
Weidman, Biddermier, Stark
“I don’t have time for this right now,” Major Rick Branigan grumbled at the letter he held in one hand while he braced his other hand against the open front door of his condo.
The lawyer lady on his doorstep looked around her, as if someone might actually hear them on the second-floor landing, then nodded sagely. “That’s why I’m here, Major,” she said in a rich, smooth voice straight out of a steamy, Southern-night fantasy.
Without being asked in, she brushed past Rick and entered his condo, as bold as you please.
She smelled faintly of an exotic spice that went perfectly with her amber eyes and winged black eyebrows but was as incongruent with her beige, don’t-mess-with-me-in-court suit jacket and skirt as was her voice. Rick, in his lowly civi jeans and white T-shirt, turned to watch her stroll toward his glass-topped dining room table.
Her legs, as well as the rest of her, were shapely enough to win over any male jury. Not that he should be noticing, considering the latest complication heaped on his plate. But she was one hell of a looker despite the bun into which she’d pulled her black hair—one that would make a drill sergeant proud.
Only, he was no drill sergeant, and thanks to the felony charge he’d saddled himself with, he wouldn’t be sitting on