Most Wanted Woman by Price Maggie

Author:Price, Maggie [Price, Maggie]
Format: mobi
Tags: Suspense
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2005-06-25T05:00:00+00:00

Hours later, Josh stood in his upstairs bedroom window, watching the headlights of Regan’s Mustang turn into the driveway next door. When she walked along the moonlight-bathed sidewalk toward Etta’s house, his thoughts centered on the alluring swing of her slim hips encased in snug denim.

In the silver light she looked small. Vulnerable. Watching her, he felt something inside him clench. Whatever that something was, he in no way wanted to examine it too closely. Not while so many unanswered questions loomed about her past. About the woman herself.

He tugged his keys out of the pocket of his faded cutoffs, headed down the staircase, then eased out the back door into the warm, silent night. With the Corvette’s top already down, he slid over the door into the driver’s seat.

All he could do now was wait, and hope Etta’s sexy, dark-haired bartender-caregiver took him up on his offer.

Whoever the hell she was.

Resting his head back against the seat, he watched a pair of fireflies hover over the windshield while he reviewed what he’d learned that day.

According to Nate, the check on the Mustang revealed it was registered to Regan Ford in Sundown, Oklahoma. Josh hadn’t been surprised. Nor had he raised a brow when his own phone call to his IRS contact unearthed the fact the government had no record of a Regan Ford ever having paid federal income tax.

For Josh, it wasn’t a giant mental step to connect the dots. She was hiding from the bastard who’d abused her—using her real name would be like painting a target on her forehead. So, she’d adopted an alias.

Since there were no fraud alerts issued on a stolen identity under the Regan Ford name, he figured she’d stopped by some newspaper’s morgue or a cemetery and obtained the name of a female who’d been born around the same year she had. Then died young. A request at a courthouse would have gotten her a copy of the real Regan Ford’s birth certificate. Having that enabled her to obtain a driver’s license. Which was the type of ID required to register the Mustang.

For the most part, it had probably taken her only a few steps to become someone else.

Who the hell was the woman behind the alias?

He could maybe start finding out by running the aka through Internet databases of birth records. Regan, after all, was an unusual first name. Once he found out the state in which she’d created her alias, he could take things from there.

He scowled at the fireflies bombarding the windshield. Women were not a mystery to him. He knew what they were about; he always had. Inside an hour of a first meeting, he could usually find out about a woman’s past, her family, her job—hell, even her bra size. With Regan, he’d gotten nowhere. Maybe the fact he couldn’t figure up from down about her was why he was so intrigued. And why he wanted her to tell him about herself rather than him digging it out of a database.

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