The Lawman’s Blackmailed Bride (Billionaire Brothers 3): BBW Romance

by Jenn Roseton

  “You can have the bathroom.” He sounded amused.

  Did she really look that bad? Opening her eyes wider, she saw that he wore the same clothes he’d slept in. Her hand struggled up through the covers to stifle a yawn. “Okay.”

  “I’ll put the coffee on. We can grab something for breakfast on the way.”

  She watched him walk over to the coffeemaker. Pushing back the blankets, she got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Shutting the door firmly behind her, she looked at herself in the mirror. Yikes! She definitely had bed hair. And not the sexy, slightly tousled kind of bed hair either.

  Phoebe quickly washed her face, undressed, put on her dry lingerie, then donned her borrowed capris and t-shirt once more. Raking her fingers through her tangled locks, she hoped Cole wouldn’t take one good look at her and run screaming from the room.

  Biting her lip, she realized she’d left her purse in the other room. She needed her comb now. She opened the bathroom door and edged out.

  No Cole.

  She scanned the room. No duffel bag. A steaming cup of coffee sat next to the almost empty pot. Striding over to the small table, she saw that the second cup had been drained.

  Her breathing quickened. Telling herself not to panic, she scanned the room. Besides the empty coffee cup, there was no evidence that Cole had been here. The blankets he’d used had vanished, and the pillows were back on the bed.

  Icy fingers gripped her chest. The coin. “Where’s my purse?” She’d still been half-asleep when she’d gone to the bathroom. For the first time since yesterday, she’d forgotten to take her purse with her.

  Almost hyperventilating, she rushed around the small room, checking everywhere she could think. The tiny closet. The tables and chairs. The bedside drawers, although she knew she hadn’t put her handbag in there. She even opened the closet and shook out the folded blanket Cole had slept on, in a vain attempt to find her brown purse.

  Nothing.

  Rising blood pressure pounded in her ears. She couldn’t have lost Mrs. Miller’s coin. Had Cole taken it? Had he played her the whole time? He might have been willing to help her at first, but when she’d told him about the coin, had he been tempted to steal it? After all, she must have seemed a pretty trusting person, jumping into his car and asking him for help. Maybe she couldn’t trust him after all. Pushing back the curtain, she looked out onto the small porch. Cole’s SUV was gone!

  CHAPTER 3

  Her hand rose to her lips. No. There had to be another explanation. Instinctively she knew it would be totally out of character for Cole to do this. But emotionally… Although she’d met him less than twenty-fours ago, she was attracted to him. Since she didn’t know how he felt about her, it was easy to assume the worst. That he’d played her for a sucker. That he wasn‘t - and would never be - attracted to a curvy girl like her.

  “Calm down,” she whispered. She wasn’t going to leave this room until she searched it again, inch by inch. Then, and only then, she would go after him and grab the coin back somehow.

  Forcing herself to think logically, she traced her movements before she went to sleep last night. She’d taken her purse into the bathroom with her. She’d brought it out with her and placed it - where? - when she’d hopped into bed.

  Walking over to the bed, she got down on her hands and knees, pushing up the dangling bedspread. Phoebe stuck her head under the bed. It was vacuumed regularly under here, thank goodness. Spying a brown strap, lying innocently on the carpet, she pulled it toward her. She let out a sigh of relief, cradling the purse. Sitting on the floor, she unzipped her purse with trembling fingers. Her breath quickening, she clawed through the contents, until she felt the familiar soft tissue paper. Gently taking out the small object, she unwrapped it, exhaling and gazing at the ancient coin.

  “Ready to go?”

  She whipped her head around. Cole stood in the doorway, looking at her inquiringly.

  A different kind of relief washed over her. Relief that he hadn’t betrayed her. Relief that her instincts about him had been correct. And relief that he was still willing to help her.

  “Where - where have you been?”

  “Just for a walk.” He entered the room. “You haven’t drunk your coffee.” He picked up the cup and brought it over to her.

  “Um … thanks,” she murmured, noticing his raised eyebrow at the sight of her sitting cross-legged on the carpet. Telling herself not to let her fingers graze his, she carefully took the mug from him.

  “Everything okay?” He gestured at her purse.

  She felt her cheeks heat. “Fine.” She took a hasty sip of the cooling brew, trying to cover her embarrassment at him finding her in such a position. “In fact,” she said, placing the cup onto the nightstand, “I’m ready to go.”

  “Great. I parked the SUV a little further away from the cabin, so it wouldn’t be seen so easily.”

  “Oh,” she said faintly, telling herself she would never jump to conclusions again. She was just grateful that in the end, she had listened to her instincts and hadn’t dashed out of the cabin, screaming accusations.

  “Got everything?” He scanned the room.

  She nodded. “What about your duffel bag?”

  “Already packed.” He held out a hand to her.

  Hesitantly, she placed her small hand in his. Warmth tingled through her at the contact. As gracefully as she could, she rose, conscious of his eyes on her. “Thanks,” she murmured once she was upright. “And my name is Phoebe Lancaster.”

  “Hi, Phoebe Lancaster.” He grinned.

  Her pulse fluttered rapidly once more. Why did he have such an effect on her?

  “It’ll take us about two hours to reach Jackson. We can stop for breakfast on the way.”

  She returned his smile, aware of her stomach rumbling. “Great.”

  A couple of minutes later they were back on the highway. When a fast food place loomed up ahead, Cole drove into the drive-thru lane. “It’s better to keep as low a profile as possible until we get everything straightened out,” he informed her, before he placed their order.

  Once they picked up their food from the window, Cole parked in the lot. Phoebe dived into her breakfast sandwich, relishing the savory taste and aroma of sausage and bacon. She sipped her orange juice, enjoying the sharp tang. When she was almost finished, she peeked at her watch. Just past seven o’clock.

  Cole screwed up his wrappers and put them back into the paper bag. He’d wolfed down two sandwiches, and now took a swallow of his coffee.

  “Where exactly in Jackson Hole does your ex-boss live?”

  Phoebe wiped her fingers on a paper napkin, then dug through her purse. Pulling out a tiny address book, she flicked through the wafer-thin pages, thankful that she‘d kept it in her handbag. “In Wilson, twelve miles past Jackson.” She recited the street address to him.

  Cole dug out his smartphone and tapped the screen. He showed Phoebe a street map which included Mr. Dawson’s. “It looks pretty easy to find,” he said, replacing his phone in his pocket.

  Cole started the engine. As Phoebe stared at his strong, tanned fingers gripping the steering wheel, she wondered what it would be like to eat breakfast with him in a non-professional capacity. Would they have tried to find a cozy diner open for breakfast? Or would she be just as content to have breakfast with him here in the SUV, even if they were romantically involved?

  Telling herself to stop daydreaming, she focused on the reason she was here. To get the coin valued, return it to Mrs. Miller, and to clear her name. No doubt Victor had already reported her to the police, as well as tarnishing her reputation with the Cheyenne antiques community.

  Her shoulders slumped at the thought, but she knew she was doing the right thing. How many other people had Victor swindled? Hopefully Mrs. Miller would be the last. When all this was over, maybe her boss would be the one to be arrested.

  When they approached the outskirts of Jackson Hole, Phoebe sat up straighter. Almost there. Her spirits
rose at the thought of seeing her mentor again. It had been wonderful working as his assistant, and she’d come to think of him as a kindly uncle. She just hoped she was right about the provenance of the coin. If it was proved that the coin wasn’t very valuable at all …

  Cole handed her the phone. “I think I know where we’re going, but you can double- check if you like.”

  She peered at the screen. Her own cell phone was pretty basic, but had a camera and internet browser. This phone, however, looked as if it wouldn’t be out of place on a spaceship. The PI business must pay pretty well, if you took into account Cole’s SUV, watch, and phone.

  Cole took the road to Teton Village. Phoebe gazed at the majestic mountains in the distance sporting a dusting of snow, even though it was summer. One day she’d love to visit the Tetons. Glancing over at Cole, she imagined walking through the forest with him, her hand clasped in his. An image arose of them camping out under the stars, sharing a sleeping bag - naked. Her heart raced.

  “We’re here.” Cole’s voice snapped her out of her sensual thoughts.

  Flushing guiltily, Phoebe realized she should have been double-checking their route, not fantasizing about the man next to her. Her gaze flickered to the house in front of them, a dark but cute wooden cabin, more Swiss Chalet in appearance than Cole’s American log cabin.

  This was it. Scrambling from the vehicle, she started towards the house.

  “Slow down,” he advised, reaching her side. He cast a quick glance around the quiet street. “We don’t want to attract any attention.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed, slackening her step and walking side-by-side with him along the crazy-paved path to the front door. Her hand shaking, she used the brass knocker to tap on the door. Phoebe waited expectantly. When her mentor didn’t come to the door right away, she turned to Cole.

  “Give him a minute.”

  Nodding, Phoebe tried not to chew her lip as they waited. And waited. Finally, she raised the knocker again, rapping harder this time.

  Still nothing.

  “I’ll check around the back.” Cole strode down the driveway. Phoebe followed him, watching him peer over the shoulder-height fence. He shook his head. “He might have gone out.”

  She walked toward the front door, giving in to the temptation to peek through the front window. A comfortable sized living room met her gaze, filled with antique furniture dating from the 1800s and early 1900s. But no sign of her mentor.

  Her spirits plummeted. She’d been looking forward to seeing Henry Dawson again. And showing him the coin. But now …

  “What if he’s gone on vacation?” she asked Cole, who’d joined her back on the porch. She clutched her purse, her fingernails digging into the faux leather.

  “He might have gone to get some groceries.” He tilted her chin up, his steady brown gaze lending her strength. Her pulse fluttered at his touch.

  Cole was right. She shouldn’t panic - yet.

  CHAPTER 4

  Phoebe found it hard to break her gaze from Cole’s.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll track him down,” Cole vowed, his thumb still gently touching her chin.

  She nodded, trying to find her voice, when a dog barked. Blinking, she stepped back, the sound breaking Cole’s sensual spell.

  “Phoebe?” A tall, thin man stepped onto the porch, a medium sized brown dog of indeterminate breed by his side. The dog gave another woof and looked up at his master.

  She beamed. “Mr. Dawson!”

  “Come and give me a hug, my dear.” The gray-haired man held out his arms.

  Phoebe hurled herself into his arms. Although William Dawson might be in his early seventies, he was strong from years of carrying antique furniture, some of which could be surprisingly solid.

  He drew back to look at her. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “I’ve got something I need your opinion on.” She patted her purse. “But first, I need to introduce you to Cole Trask.” Her eyes flickered to her sexy P.I. “He’s helping me.”

  The two men sized each other up, then Mr. Dawson stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you. Are you in antiques as well?”

  Cole shook his hand. “Afraid not, Mr. Dawson.” He cast his gaze over Phoebe for an instant. “I leave that up to Phoebe.”

  Mr. Dawson chuckled. “I don’t think there are many people who love antiques as much as Phoebe.” He gestured at the front door. “Come on in.”

  Before Phoebe could take a step forward, the dog ran in front of her with a grin on its face, blocking the way, its thick plumy tail wagging wildly.

  “Where are my manners? This is Rufus. I adopted him from the local animal shelter not long after I moved here. We’ve just been for a walk.”

  “Hello, Rufus.” Phoebe bent down and smiled at the dog, holding out her hand. “Would you like a pat?”

  The dog sniffed her hand, then sat on his haunches, looking hopeful.

  “Go ahead, my dear,” Mr. Dawson said. “Although once you start, he mightn’t let you stop.”

  Phoebe gently stroked the dog on his shoulder. Rufus shuddered with delight. “Good boy,” she crooned, continuing to pet him. The dog’s pink tongue hung out of his mouth, a drop of drool glistening at his jaws as he looked up at her with wide black “pet me” eyes.

  “Come on in.” Mr. Dawson carefully stepped around the dog and unlocked the front door.

  Rufus left Phoebe’s side to take a quick sniff at Cole, than ran back to her, plastering himself against her leg.

  “Sit down. How did you two get here anyway? By plane?” Mr. Dawson sat in a blue velvet upholstered armchair. A matching love-seat and another armchair complemented the set. Cream walls and butter-yellow drapes gave the room a cheery look.

  Cole shook his head, sitting down next to Phoebe on the love-seat. “We drove.”

  The old man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That would take you a while from Cheyenne.”

  “Tell me about it.” Cole stretched his shoulders. “But it was important to Phoebe that we see you.”

  Something in Cole’s tone caught Phoebe’s attention and she looked at him, her stomach fluttering at the expression on his face. Perhaps … perhaps he didn’t think of her strictly as a client after all.

  “Would you two like anything to drink? I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, and then Phoebe can tell me what’s so important that you drove across Wyoming to see me.” He smiled gently.

  “Tea would be great, Mr. Dawson.” Although she was dying to show Mrs. Miller’s coin to her mentor, breakfast suddenly seemed a long time ago.

  “I’m good, thanks, sir,” Cole replied.

  “I’ll just be a minute. Feel free to have a look around the room, Phoebe.”

  Smiling, she jumped up as Mr. Dawson walked to the kitchen and ran her hand over an antique wooden sideboard. “I bet this is Civil War,” she murmured to herself. She toured the room, eventually stopping beside Cole.

  “Having fun?” Cole raised an eyebrow.

  “Mm. Did you know you’re sitting on a Victorian love-seat?”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  Rufus barked agreement, and she bit back a giggle.

  “It sounds as if the dog knows more about this stuff than I do,” Cole grumbled good-naturedly.

  Mr. Dawson walked back into the room, carrying a tray. “You’re probably right,” he agreed, setting the cups down on a lace doily decorated coffee table. “Rufus is used to me talking to him about the articles I read in the antiques magazine. In fact, if I opened another shop, he’d probably be a very good assistant.”

  They all laughed. Phoebe sat next to Cole on the love-seat, and Rufus woofed again, then lay down next to her feet.

  “Now, what can I do for you, my dear?” Mr. Dawson sipped his tea, then set the cup down on the table. “Is there something you wanted me to look at?”

  “Please.” She unzipped her purse and pulled out the tissue-wrapped coin. Handi
ng it to her mentor, she said, “I didn’t know who else to take it to.”

  He frowned, putting on his glasses before gently unwrapping the object. “What about Victor?”

  Phoebe shuddered involuntarily. Before she could think of what to say, Cole answered. “Blackwood isn’t an option.”

  He looked at them shrewdly over his glasses. “Like that, is it?”

  “Yeah.” Cole’s voice was as grim as his expression.

  Mr. Dawson sighed. “I hoped I was leaving the shop and Phoebe in good hands. Blackwood’s reputation was spotless, otherwise I wouldn’t have sold to him.”

  Cole glanced at Phoebe. “You didn’t want to buy the shop yourself?”

  “I would have loved to,” she said wistfully, “but I don’t think I’m quite ready yet.”

  “Phoebe’s a natural,” Mr. Dawson chimed in, “but even naturals need some experience before they strike out on their own. If I could have worked for a couple more years I would have, and then sold the shop to her. But after a lifetime in the trade, I’m afraid it became too much for me and I needed to sell the business immediately. I inherited this house, and I’ve always wanted to live in this area. It seemed the perfect time to do so.”

  Cole nodded. “Understood.”

  Mr. Dawson finished unwrapping the object and gazed at it. “Dear me.” He held it up to the light, then turned it over. “Dear me.” Excitement laced his voice. “I’ll get my magnifying glass.” He rose and pulled out a drawer from the sideboard. Taking out a large magnifying glass, he picked up the coin by its edges and held it up in the sunshine streaming in through the large window. “I don’t believe it,” he murmured, turning the coin over and studying the other side. “Yes, I think it is.”

  Phoebe tried not to fidget as she gazed at her mentor, her hopes growing with his every muttered exclamation. “Well?” She asked breathlessly, unable to wait any longer.