On His Honor Read online

  When boundaries get blurred

  Detective JD Cameron is onto something big. He’s got evidence of a human-trafficking ring operating here in Austin, Texas. And he’s targeted one guy as his way into the ring. But how can JD get close enough without alerting the suspect?

  The solution comes with actress Violet James. In town for personal reasons, she needs a bodyguard, and JD is perfect for the job. But this simple assignment quickly changes. An unexpected and powerful connection develops between Violet and JD—one that can’t be ignored. Not only is it jeopardizing his objectivity, he’s also aware he’s not telling her the truth. Confessing all risks his career, but not confessing risks so much more.

  “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  The guy quickly set Violet on her feet and steadied her. “Seriously, are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” Violet managed to say, looking up into worried gray eyes. Six feet, she guessed, lean and athletic, tousled tawny hair.

  “Well, don’t I feel like a moron? Plowing right over a woman isn’t the usual ploy for making a good impression.” Then he grinned, and strikingly handsome became breathtaking. He stuck out a hand. “JD Cameron. How am I doing so far? Wowed yet?”

  Charming, too. Her first instinct after everything she’d been through was to go icy, but that would be giving Barry’s betrayal too much power. Plus, Sophie said he was the next thing to family and she could trust him. She would try. “Let’s just say I won’t forget our meeting.” She slid her hand into his and smiled.

  Oh, yes, clever and charming in addition to his good looks. She wondered what he’d think if he knew that what actually tempted her about him was the hint of shadows in his eyes. For all his good-natured banter, she sensed more depth to him than his manner revealed….

  Dear Reader,

  A number of you wrote me after Most Wanted to tell me how much you liked JD and thought he needed his own story. Well...okay, so it took a while, but...here he is! He was such a tease and a cutup (as well as a gorgeous hunk) in that book, and he was also very young. His reputation as both a fun guy and a lady-killer continues to this day, but JD’s been through the fire since you last saw him, and I enjoyed exploring both his sunny side and his shadows.

  It was fun to revisit Hotel Serenity from A Texas Chance, too. Its location bears a resemblance to a very cool hotel in Austin, Hotel St. Cecelia, in the fun and funky SoCo district, but that’s where the resemblance ends...except in the draw the actual hotel holds for the hip crowd. The beautiful city of Austin itself is a character in this series, much changed in recent years but still retaining its unique flavor of college town and music lovers’ paradise, with a little gloss of high-tech heaven and big-city glamour lacquered over it.

  Next up in The MacAllisters miniseries is the story of the youngest MacAllister, Jenna, out in June. I hope you’ll enjoy it.

  Thank you, as always, for letting me share my stories with you. If you’d like to get in touch, you can reach me through my website, www.jeanbrashear.com, or at www.Harlequin.com, as well as on Facebook or Twitter.

  From my heart to yours,

  Jean Brashear

  On His Honor

  Jean Brashear

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Three RITA® Award nominations, a RT Book Reviews Series Storyteller of the Year and numerous other awards have all been huge thrills for Jean, but hearing from readers is a special joy. She plays guitar, though, knows exactly how it feels to have the man you love craft a beautiful piece of furniture with his own hands…and has a special fondness for the scent of wood shavings.

  Jean loves to hear from readers, either via email at her website, www.jeanbrashear.com, or Harlequin’s website, www.Harlequin.com, or by postal mail at P.O. Box 3000 #79, Georgetown, TX 78627-3000.

  Books by Jean Brashear

  HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

  1105—THE HEALER

  1142—THE GOOD DAUGHTER

  1190—A REAL HERO

  1219—MOST WANTED

  1251—COMING HOME

  1267—FORGIVENESS

  1339—SWEET MERCY

  1413—RETURN TO WEST TEXAS

  1465—THE VALENTINE GIFT

  “Our Day”

  1505—THE WAY HOME

  1595—THE MAN SHE ONCE KNEW

  1763—A TEXAS CHANCE*

  SIGNATURE SELECT SAGA

  MERCY

  *The MacAllisters

  Other titles by this author available in ebook format.

  For all those who put their lives on the line

  to protect others

  And, as always,

  for Ercel, my own hero and protector

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks to Dr. Kalin Kelso and his wonderful staff at Austin Orthopedics,

  Meggan Delvecchio, Amy Jackson,

  Mandy Villanueva, Karen Kelso and

  Brandon Williams—thanks a million for

  working your magic on my shoulder woes so

  I could finish this book in time!

  Great appreciation to Nicole Cunningham,

  Regina McCarley, Shawn Sabo and Linda Bullock of St. David’s Rehabilitation for getting me back in fighting trim after the surgery (and special thanks to Nicole for playing what-if with me regarding JD’s injuries and recovery).

  A huge shout-out to my fabulous author friend (and former Oklahoma City PD civilian crime analyst) Maggie Price and to Lt. Bill Price,

  OCPD (Ret.) for emergency answers that kept

  me moving forward—a million thank-yous!

  Any errors made or liberties taken with all this valuable information are completely my own.

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  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

  PROLOGUE

  Los Angeles

  Golden Screen Awards

  “VIOLET, OVER HERE!” cried more voices than Violet James could count.

  “Awesome gown!”

  “Man, you look hot!”

  Then, in one slice of silence, “Violet, I love you!”

  The crowd tittered at the heartfelt declaration. Violet paused on the red carpet and pivoted on her sky-high stilettos, smiling when she spotted the young man in the stands. She blew him a kiss, to which he responded with a shout and an ebullient fist pump. The crowd cheered loudly for America’s Sweetheart.

  They loved her.

  And East Tennessee’s favorite daughter loved them right back.

  “We’re going to be late, darling, and we still have to face the dragon.” Her husband of four months, British actor Barry Marsden, placed his palm on the small of her back and guided her gently toward the waiting fashion reporter.

  Violet turned up her palms toward the bleachers. “Gotta go. So sorry,” she called out, then blew another kiss to encompass all of them. The screaming rose to a fever pitch.

  Then, with a sigh, she headed
for the has-been actress who’d breathed life into a dying career by carving up other actors for fun and profit.

  “Hello, Violet. Who are you wearing?” asked Sally Stern, her face permanently frozen by countless surgeries. Sally’s verbal knives were already sharpened and eager for her flesh, Violet had no doubt.

  “A brilliant, exciting new designer, Adam Cutler.” Violet smiled brightly and executed a quick runway twirl to give the television cameras a complete scan. The figure-hugging silver garment with the modest front neckline skimmed her collarbone in a boatneck, the long fitted sleeves widened at the wrist to drape in an elegant trumpet nearly to her knees. The gown followed every curve of her body so faithfully she hadn’t eaten anything but low-cal protein shakes in a week, then it belled out below her knees to pool gracefully on the ground.

  The dress was the picture of restrained grace—until she revolved, giving the camera a glimpse of her back, bared by a scoop nearly to the cleft of her derriere. Down her spine spilled a single line of pearls and silver rosettes, linked by a chain so delicate it was invisible to anyone not right next to her. The only other jewelry was a wide silver cuff bracelet studded with pearls and diamonds, and at her ears the diamond teardrops Barry had given her for a wedding gift. Her jet-black hair was styled after the legendary glamour girls like Jane Russell and Veronica Lake—a smooth fall turned under at the ends and dipping over one of her famous turquoise eyes. Her lipstick was killer red.

  Violet’s curves might be more modest than Jane Russell’s bombshell proportions, but she knew she was pulling off quite a look with the striking contrast of milky skin, silver gown and raven hair. Sometimes being a girl was too much fun.

  “Stunning, darling, simply stunning.” Violet’s eyes widened in wonder as Sally touched her with surprising gentleness on her arm. “You’re going to win tonight, I’m certain, and you’ll deserve it for your courage.”

  The diva reporter dished out praise so sparingly, Violet had to work hard not to faint.

  Or throw her arms around the woman, as her basic nature urged her to do. Even after twelve years as an actress, five at the top of the box office, she couldn’t completely stamp Southern warmth out of her, nor did she have any desire to. It was hard enough to remain human—or sane—in the artificial Hollywood environment in which she lived.

  So she gave in and hugged Sally, smiling as the dragon’s cheeks turned rosy. “Thank you, Sally. That means a lot.”

  One genuine squeeze of the hand from the older woman, then Violet all but danced away. What a night this was!

  And the icing on the cake was her handsome spouse by her side, escorting her with his usual panache. She was grateful for the evening together, even if too much of it would be spent in public and on alert. Juggling two busy careers meant they didn’t have nearly enough time alone with each other.

  But that was part of the package, so Violet smiled and smiled. Stopped to sign autographs all the way into the auditorium, once even forcing the security guys to allow a preteen girl to come down from the stands to present her with a teddy bear she’d made just for Violet.

  Because she adored her equally talented husband who, by all rights, should be up for an award, too, she took less time with her fans than she normally would, waving goodbye and heading inside.

  Now to endure the hours until she would learn if the role she had defied her wholesome image to play would, at long last, garner her the respect of her peers.

  Just as they reached the doors, Barry dipped her into a romantic kiss that sent cameras flashing and would have her fans sighing over the fairy tale that was her life.

  It reminded her that this was what was truly important, the love they shared, the life they would build. Whether or not she won mattered much less. She had everything she’d always wanted.

  Her first marriage to the director who’d made her a star had ended after four years, and she’d grieved over the loss of a dream. No one in her family had ever been divorced, and beneath the star patina beat a very ordinary heart, one that only wanted to love and be loved. Trouble was, she loved her work, too, and she was good at it. When her marriage had ended, she’d decided that perhaps love wasn’t her lot, and she’d told herself to be grateful for all she had.

  Though she’d thought she’d never marry again, three years later, Barry had charged into her life and swept her off her feet. She hadn’t believed the on-set love affair cliché could ever happen to her, but Barry and she were no cliché. He loved her to distraction, and she loved him.

  She had been given a second chance, and this time she would get it right. She and Barry would be Joanne Woodward and Paul Newman, with a dash of Ward and June Cleaver thrown in. They’d grow old together gracefully and, with luck, die in each other’s arms.

  So what if she was a hopelessly middle-class small-town girl, as her best friend Avery had teased? She didn’t care. Her parents were still in love after thirty-six years, and Violet’s two brothers had growing broods themselves.

  She laid one hand over her flat belly as Barry ushered her inside. Before too much longer, she hoped she and Barry would begin a brood of their own.

  Life was so good it was almost scary. She pressed her lips together and sent up a silent plea.

  “What is it?” Barry asked her.

  She shook her head. “Just…I love you so much. I’m so happy.”

  He smiled and led her inside.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Three months later

  “VIOLET, OVER HERE!”

  “Have you talked to Barry? Have he and his latest conquest emerged from their love nest?”

  “How does it feel to have him cheat on you barely six months into your marriage?”

  Cameras flashed, television cameras rolled, the gleaming shark teeth of entertainment reporters menaced as the crowd closed around her.

  Oh, God, she couldn’t do this. What had she been thinking, trying to show up on the set as though her world hadn’t been shattered into a thousand pieces?

  She hadn’t slept at all the night before, not after she’d seen the photos splashed all over the internet and the tabloids, photos of the man she’d trusted with her heart and her dreams caught with a woman he’d apparently been involved with even before he’d met Violet.

  She knew she looked like death warmed over, her eyes too scratchy for makeup, her unwashed hair scraped back in a ponytail. But she was two days away from wrapping her role in this film, and she was determined to be the professional she’d always been.

  Though she had no idea how she was going to play a romantic role with the slightest trace of sincerity when she no longer believed in love. All she wanted was to be alone, to climb under the covers and hide, to never speak to another soul.

  Before she’d been caught in the storm of scandal, she’d accepted that lack of privacy was the price of success, and had done her best to get along with those she told herself were only trying to make a living.

  But now, witnessing the undisguised glee on their faces, the avid curiosity to see how soon she’d break…the people she’d cooperated with once now showed her no mercy, not even when her heart was breaking and she wanted to crawl into the nearest hole.

  “Violet! His lover’s not even that pretty! How does that make you feel?”

  She whipped around. “How do you think it makes me feel?” she yelled. “Why are you doing this?”

  For a second, the only sound came from the cameras. Even hardened reporters were shocked.

  What am I turning into? The depth of her bitterness stunned her.

  I can’t breathe. Frantically, she scanned for an opening as the crowd surged closer and the shouting resumed. Her heart pounded. Her vision blurred. Blindly she pushed to get away.

  Just then, two beefy men shoved through the crowd, and she recogniz
ed them as part of the security crew for the production. The yelling only mounted as security whisked her away. The cameras never stopped whirring.

  Once out of sight, she half collapsed against one of them.

  “It’s okay, Ms. James. We’ve got your back now. Sorry we weren’t here. No one expected you today.”

  I shouldn’t have come.

  Desperately she tried to get a grip on herself, though she was trembling. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Miss James, those bloodsuckers will never leave you alone, not after—” the second one halted in midsentence. “Um, sorry.”

  He might as well have said it: after you and the rest of the world found out that your husband had been cheating on you from the first. When your marriage—your second marriage—turned out to be a lie. But none of that was anyone’s fault but hers.

  “It’s…okay.” But it wasn’t. Barry had made their marriage a freak show. Had made a fool of her.

  She wanted to carve out his heart with a rusty spoon.

  Her shoulders sagged. She didn’t understand why this had happened. What had she done? What hadn’t she done? How had she failed? Was she only lovable from a distance, only as an image, not a real person?

  Then she realized the security guys were staring at her. “I’m…sorry. I’m just…” Sick at heart. And so very sad.

  “Can’t trust anyone in this town,” the second guard muttered. “Folks will sell their own grandmas to get ahead.”

  She knew he meant well, but she couldn’t handle sympathy right now. She would break.

  She shouldn’t have come to the set, but the madness was worse at her house. Her housekeeper had helped spirit her out the back of the property in disguise, but it hadn’t been enough.

  She didn’t know what to do. Where to go. How to live with this. “Excuse me. I have to…” Vaguely she waved toward her trailer.

  “Sure thing. You need anything, Ms. James, anything at all…”

  “Thank you.” She dug deep for strength. Tried hard to remember who she’d been only yesterday. She cleared her throat, composed her features. “Would you please tell Mr. Forbes that I’ll be ready for makeup in fifteen minutes?”