Not the Boss's Baby

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “The Wrenville house,” he said. “That place really isn’t very interesting and there is nothing you can do at this time to solve the murders that happened in the house. That was over a century ago, old news with cold clues. At best, you might come back next year when the town of Verity has full rights to the property.”

  “That’s interesting. I’d like to hear more about the town getting full rights. Even if I can’t get a solution, I’d like to present the story about the house and family because it’s unknown, unusual and I think it could be of interest to my audience.”

  “You might check Texas history because I think you’ll find other unsolved mysteries that are far more fascinating in places far more appealing.”

  “That’s interesting to know, too, Sheriff Milan,” she said, giving him a sweet smile. “But I really want to do this one. And you should know I pursue what I want.”

  “And I imagine you’re accustomed to getting what you want,” he said, his gaze flicking over her. He guessed most men found it difficult to tell her no, especially with her devastating smile.

  “That happens often,” she said, leaning forward and shortening the gap between them. “I’m curious, Sheriff Milan,” she said in a pleasant tone that probably ended most men’s resistance, “why are you so set on discouraging me about the Wrenville house?”

  “Verity is a quiet town with residents who like the status quo. As sheriff, I definitely like peace and quiet. If you’ll look around, you won’t find any tourist attractions. We do have a tiny museum, but it’s not very interesting. Ditto our small library.”

  She smiled. “I assure you, I’m not planning to make this a tourist attraction. Maybe it’s well you don’t work for the Chamber of Commerce or the Tourist Center.”

  “We don’t have a Tourist Center,” he said quietly. “That should give you an idea.”

  From the moment he had discovered the red limo, this woman had been surprising him, but her purpose for being here was an even bigger surprise—and an unpleasant one.

  “I’m sorry you came all this way, Ms. Jones. You should have contacted me and I could have saved you the trouble. Lavita Wrenville was the last surviving Wrenville and she deeded the place to the town of Verity. According to the deed, we can’t do anything to the grounds or house until next year, when it reverts totally to the town. I’m sheriff and I’m not opening that house.”

  “I am so sorry that you’re unhappy about this, Sheriff Milan.” Leaning back, she rummaged through a large purse. Gold bangles jingled on her arm and while her attention was on her purse, he looked her over from head to toe once again, his insides tightening as he envisioned her without the dress. As he gazed at her, she withdrew two envelopes and held them out to him. With a sinking feeling, he recognized the logo on one. “I wrote the governor of Texas, and I’ve written the mayor of Verity. I have letters from both stating clearly that I may look through the Wrenville house. Actually, I’m here as a guest of the state of Texas. You have such a nice governor. If you’d like to read the letters, here they are.”

  Wyatt held back a groan and resisted swearing. The last thing he wanted was someone stirring up the old family feud and drawing tourists who would want to walk through the Wrenville house. The dread that he experienced earlier—that his peaceful life and the public serenity of Verity were on the brink of destruction by one headstrong, sexy redhead—was coming true before his eyes.

  * * *

  A few moments later, after he’d read the letters, Wyatt made a mental note to talk to the mayor. Gyp Nash hadn’t let him know one thing about Destiny Jones coming to Verity to see the Wrenville house. Gyp didn’t like conflict, so that’s probably why he had avoided telling Wyatt. But for the mayor to say how “thrilled” the townspeople would be that the Wrenville story would be the subject of one of her shows... Did Nash know this town at all?

  He gave her back her letters. “Very nice,” he said in clipped tones, trying to think what he could do to get rid of her.

  “The Wrenville house is a big, dusty, empty house. There are all sorts of rumors and a legend about the property. People and kids have looked through it over the years until finally there’s no interest in it. I want to keep it that way,” he said. He felt a clash of wills with the charming, breathtaking bit of trouble that was sitting only a few feet from him. Along with the friction was a strong physical appeal that he didn’t want, but couldn’t shake.

  “I suspect you’ve been through the house?”

  “Oh, sure, when I was in high school. Kids used to be curious and there were all sorts of wild rumors, but they all died out. Ask people who have high school kids—there’s no interest now. Jump back to my grandparents’ generation and fights would break out over whether a Milan or a Calhoun shot first and killed the other as well as Lavita Wrenville’s father that fatal night. In the three years that I’ve been sheriff we haven’t had a fight break out over who fired the killing shots, nor have I had a trespassing call at the Wrenville place. It’ll be better for the Calhouns and the Milans when the old house is gone. It serves as a reminder of the feud.”

  “Well, I’m curious and you’re not discouraging me. It’s a fascinating story of three unsolved murders and perhaps a hidden fortune. That’s an intriguing mystery.”

  “Not really. There were three murders, but they took place in the late 1800s. That’s so long ago no one cares now,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing. “And as for the so-called fortune, Lavita Wrenville never married, was eccentric and may have saved some money and hidden it, but she was considered by most to be poverty stricken after she went through the money left to her by her father. All I’ve ever heard was that she lived in poverty and off other people’s charity.”

  “Maybe you’re too closely involved,” Destiny said lightly, her constant smiles softening her persistent argument with him. “I find that it’s still an interesting subject and I hope I can persuade you to give me an interview. I would be absolutely thrilled,” she said in a throaty voice that made him think of hot kisses instead of a factual interview. “After all, you are a Milan and one of the men murdered in that house was a Milan—wasn’t one of your ancestors rumored to have been murdered by a Calhoun?”

  “Unfortunately, yes, that’s my family’s version, though the Calhouns say it was a Calhoun murdered by a Milan. But it was way before my time and I sure as hell didn’t know him. There’s not that much to talk about. Later in her life, Lavita Wrenville was considered a recluse and an eccentric old maid. End of information.”

  “Sheriff Milan, I hope it’s not the end of information or our conversations. I imagine you know all sorts of things, maybe more than anyone else, about history here.” She rewarded him with another dazzling smile that made him want to stop arguing with her. “I have been looking forward so much to meeting you.”

  He could see why Dwight didn’t know how she had talked him into letting her wait in Wyatt’s office. It was difficult to keep his mind on his subject with her hanging on his every word, smiling at him constantly and sounding as if she might be talking to the most brilliant man in Verity. That plus her looks probably caused her to get her way almost 100 percent of the time. Of their own will, his eyes glanced down at her long legs. Just looking at them sparked desire. He didn’t want to give her an interview. He wanted to seduce her and then send her on her way.

  “Maybe I can get you to change your mind about the interview,” she said in a breathy voice.

  “You can try,” he replied with amusement.

  “I think that will be a fun project.”

  He found himself excited by the challenge. Yes, it was going to be difficult to say no to Destiny Jones.

  With an effort he looked up again. He gazed into the green eyes that held him captive. His every nerve sizzled, his pulse quickened and his breathing altered. He wanted to reach for her and close the last bit of distance between them even though he knew this whole conversation was to get what she wanted from him.

  “Sher
iff Milan,” she drawled.

  With an effort he sat straighter. “No interview,” he gasped, struggling to get his voice back to normal while fighting the urge to lean the last few inches and kiss her.

  She smiled. “I hope you’ll change your mind. You’re part of this town and one of families involved in the famous feud and you’re sheriff—there would be a lot of interest.”

  “I lead a quiet life. I don’t think I would be that interesting and the feud is fading, so I don’t care to bring it back into the limelight.”

  She laughed, a sunny, contagious, merry sound that he could listen to all day. His mind groped for sanity and to get back to a factual, impersonal conversation. He felt as if he wanted to loosen his collar. Even more, he wanted to reach for her, to kiss that full mouth and feel her softness pressed against him. Lost in that mental picture, he struggled to remember what he had to discuss with her.

  “Your limo is in my parking place and you have a ticket,” he blurted in an effort to get back to business. His voice came out with a husky note and it was difficult to think about business or anything except giving in to her or kissing her. He didn’t like that loss of control. He didn’t give in to his urges anymore, not after getting his heart broken by Katherine. “We’ve called to have the limo towed,” he said, beginning to gather his wits. “Where’s your driver?”

  “I told him I’d call him when I’m through talking to you. He’s just looking at the town or getting coffee. He’s not far.”

  “You need to get that limo moved now,” Wyatt declared, barely aware of what he said to her, also barely noticing that she had no reaction to his announcement that her limo would be towed.

  “Oh, he will as soon as I’m finished here. I can be persistent, Sheriff Milan, when I want something,” she said. “I want to try to change your mind. You do change your mind sometimes, don’t you?” She asked in such a friendly, good-natured tone, he had to laugh.

  “Yes, I can change my mind,” he replied, thinking she was the biggest challenge he had had in too long to remember. He couldn’t recall ever being so totally distracted. “Are you staying in Verity tonight, or somewhere else?” he said, knowing her answer but hoping for a different one.

  “My staff and I are staying in the Verity Hotel.”

  “A good place to stay. The Verity Hotel doesn’t have any unsolved mysteries or even ancient legends, but it’s an old hotel dating back to 1887. It burned in the early 1900s and was rebuilt. It has been remodeled several times including in 2002, as well as in the past three years when it was completely renovated. It’s a nice place to stay.”

  As he talked, he continued to study her, struggling to drag his attention elsewhere. Her movie star, younger sister was breathtakingly beautiful, far more flirty, but Destiny was a combination of friendly charm and sensuality, a sexual appeal that set his pulse pounding. He suspected his reaction was generally the same as it was with every man she encountered.

  “Did Mayor Nash tell you the history of Verity or the Wrenville house?”

  “No,” she said. “He merely welcomed me to town and seemed happy that I had an interest in using the Wrenville house for one of my subjects. I have an appointment with him later this week.”

  Wyatt wanted to say, I’ll bet you do. Instead, different words came out of his mouth. “Since you don’t know our history, let me take you to dinner tonight and I’ll tell you about it.” The words just popped out as if he had no control over what he said. For his own good he should get rid of this woman and avoid her as much as possible. Instead, he had invited her out. And dammit, he could not keep from hoping she would accept.

  “How delightful,” she said, smiling again. “Thank you. I would love to go to dinner with you and hear about your life, Verity and the Wrenville house. I can send my limo to pick you up.”

  Her words lifted the fog that had settled on his brain. Smiling, he shook his head. “Thanks. I’ll come to the hotel and get you. Seven?”

  “Fine,” she said, standing and offering her hand.

  He wrapped his fingers around hers, stepping closer to her at the same time. She didn’t step back, but instead continued to smile as she looked up at him. He was within inches, his hand holding hers, sending streaks of fire from the simple physical contact. She had a lush body made for love, and tonight, he intended to take her to dinner and afterward, to seduce her. And he hoped she would be willing in an effort to get what she wanted from him.

  “It’s been interesting,” he said in a husky voice.

  “But you wish I’d go away,” she said, softening her words with another one of her fabulous smiles.

  “I didn’t say that I didn’t like you. You’re big city—we’re small town,” he said in a husky voice. “Charming, stunning and captivating.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff Milan. How nice you are.”

  “It’s Wyatt. I have a feeling we’ll see each other often while you’re here,” he said, wondering if she would be as enticing to kiss as he thought she might be.

  “We’ll see each other,” she said, the breathless note returning to her voice. “I think hierarchy is on my side on this one. The governor of Texas trumps the sheriff of Verity. I came prepared. My sister has told me about you in great detail.”

  He merely smiled, recalling how angry her sister had been with him the last hour they had spent together. She had wanted him to go back to California with her and she was accustomed to getting her way. When he had refused, it did not go well. If she’d planned to stay, he’d have broken up with her, but since she was leaving Verity forever, he played the affair to its end, even though he had grown tired of her and her appeal had fizzled.

  He suspected her older sister was just as stubborn. In spite of Destiny’s smiles and polite charm, he continually felt their clash of wills.

  He dropped her hand and headed to the door. As she walked beside him, he inhaled the scent of her mesmerizing perfume. He opened his office door and they walked out into the reception area where a group had gathered. Cameras flashed while people clamored noisily as they surged toward her.

  Wyatt stepped in front of her, shielding her from the reporters that he easily recognized, two local, the others from the area and one from a Fort Worth station and one from Dallas. His deputy came forward to help, but Destiny stepped easily in front of Wyatt.

  “I’ll be happy to answer your questions,” she said, smiling at the media.

  “Not in here, please,” Wyatt said in an authoritative tone that caused a hush. “Folks, take the interview across the street. We have to conduct business here, not a press conference. Jeff, Millie, Duncan—outside, please,” Wyatt said, calling the names of the reporters that had the most influence. He knew nearly everyone in the crowd.

  “We’ll go across the street,” Destiny said, smiling at the crowd and shaking someone’s outstretched hand.

  Wyatt watched a man and a woman emerge from the crowd. He didn’t know them, but they flanked Destiny and he guessed they were two of her staff members.

  “Dammit,” he said quietly, thinking about Destiny putting the Wrenville house—and, as a result, the Milans, the Calhouns and their feud—on television for the world to view. He didn’t think it would be any easier to keep her out of the Wrenville house than to get her out of his parking spot.

  “I’m going to see Gyp,” he said tersely to his deputy.

  He shook his head. “The mayor left for the day. He said to tell you he would see you in the morning.”

  “Dammit,” Wyatt repeated, turning to go back into his office, figuring Gyp had ducked out on him because he knew Wyatt would be unhappy. Wyatt shook his head as he swore again. Townspeople would not be thrilled when Destiny Jones fanned the flames of old animosities.

  Abruptly, Wyatt headed out the back door of city hall, circling to Main Street in long strides, hoping the limo was gone and her impromptu press conference was over. As he turned the corner, he stopped short. Not only was the red limo still in his parking place, but her
audience had grown. In addition, a TV truck was parked down the street, lights had been set up and he could see men with video cameras. Shaking his head, Wyatt stared at the circus going on across the street. The lady knew how to draw a crowd. He made a mental note to get a private room for their dinner.

  Wyatt scanned the crowd that spilled into the street and lined the sidewalk. He recognized Dustin Redwing and Pete Lee, two men who worked for him. He saw the curly white hair of Horace Pringle, the president of Verity’s largest bank. Ty Hemmings, the owner of the movie theater, was in the audience, along with several other shop owners. He spotted Farley White, his mechanic.

  Wyatt knew nearly everyone in the gathering. He shook his head at the sight of Charlie Akin, the local eccentric who lived in a shack along the river in a neighboring county. Periodically, the river flooded, taking Charlie’s shack. He moved downriver or upriver, staying in the general area and built another shack, taking his goats and chickens with him. Wyatt wondered how Charlie had gotten word that Destiny Jones was in Verity.

  Deputy Lambert stood nearby, watching the crowd, and Wyatt was certain his deputy was there out of a sense of duty. Wyatt continued studying the crowd, recognizing face after face, being only slightly surprised that Destiny had drawn such a gathering because she would draw attention wherever she went.

  He looked at her as she answered a question. A breeze tugged long tendrils of her deep auburn hair. She looked like a movie star standing there in the sunshine while people asked her questions. She glanced his way. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, he felt as if she had reached out and touched him. Her gaze held his while she finished her answer. Then she turned to look at someone asking her a question.

  His cell phone rang and he pulled it out to see he had a text from his brother Nick. “Dammit,” Wyatt said quietly, scanning Nick’s text.

  Watching Destiny Jones in Verity on TV. Why didn’t you let us know? When can I meet her? How long will she be in Verity? The Wrenville murders?