The Man Behind the Badge

Sharon Archer

The Man Behind the Badge

Sharon Archer

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Table of Contents

Cover (#uc24b357b-b18c-5a77-a43c-b108c73a81a4)

Title Page (#u521eef68-4a00-57b7-95c2-fc90a91e66fb)

About the Author (#udd576429-3dd2-5d17-bcdb-5c66fcd33daf)

Chapter One (#u8c37d18a-e257-5ab7-9585-6a6c7693fd3e)

Chapter Two (#ua47e27e4-51d1-52f9-b61e-374bc387d70c)

Chapter Three (#u4a20a5e2-ec82-5ecf-9949-091296173dcb)

Chapter Four (#ucf5f0813-9e54-5fdb-8f25-210636e827a0)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author

Born in New Zealand, SHARON ARCHER now lives in County Victoria, Australia, with her husband Glenn, one lame horse and five pensionable hens. Always an avid reader, she discovered Mills & Boon as a teenager through Lucy Walker’s fabulous Outback Australia stories. Now she lives in a gorgeous bush setting, and loves the native fauna that visits regularly…Well, maybe not the possum which coughs outside the bedroom window in the middle of the night.

The move to acreage brought a keen interest in bushfire management (she runs the fireguard group in her area), as well as free time to dabble in woodwork, genealogy (her advice is…don’t get her started!), horse-riding and motorcycling—as a pillion or in charge of the handlebars.

Free time turned into words on paper! And the dream to be a writer gathered momentum. With her background in a medical laboratory, what better line to write for than Mills & Boon

Medical

Romance?

My thanks to lovely friends Anna Campbell and Nikki Logan, and especially Rachel Bailey, for listening and for the chance to bounce around ideas.

And always my thanks to Glenn!

CHAPTER ONE

TOM JAMIESON reached into the cabin of his four-wheel drive and slotted the handpiece of the police radio back into its cradle. He straightened, stripped off the yellow reflective safety vest and tossed it on the passenger’s seat. The perspiration that had made his black T-shirt cling had begun to cool. Flexing his tired shoulders, he ran a hand over his face and felt the stubble rasp across his palm. It had been a long day and a longer evening but, for all the frustration, it had been oddly satisfying.

He smiled wryly as he listened to frogs croaking in a distant chorus. His city colleagues wouldn’t believe the action that made up his average working tasks these days.

He breathed in a deep lungful of fragrant eucalyptus, the clean tangy oils still heavy in the air after a hot day. In the nearby trees, a lone magpie chortled, its diurnal senses confused by the brightness of the full moon. The gentle night sounds and scents gathered around him like a cloak of serenity.

Coming back to Dustin had been the right choice for him.

In the paddock beside him, a dozen bovine silhouettes munched contentedly on the pasture in their temporary new home. Moonlight gleamed off the black hides of the now-sedate Angus yearlings. A far cry from the fractious cavorters that had led him and his helpers on an hour-long chase along the roadside.

He shifted, reaching for the vehicle door. Time to go home, get out of clothes that carried the aroma of cowpats and get clean. His stomach growled.

Shower. Food. Sleep. In that order.

A set of approaching headlights stabbed the night to form a weird hazy glow in a patch of low-lying mist. Tom glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Nearly one in the morning. An odd time to be travelling into Dustin on a Sunday night. He watched with reluctant curiosity as the car drew nearer.

A few seconds later, he recognised the shape of the small car. He frowned as his heart thumped hard.