Bridget’s loft in SoHo was spacious and stylish but certainly didn’t offer the same type of elegance her grandparents’ home in the Hamptons did. She smiled as she roamed around, surrounded by furnishings and artwork that depicted her personality. Casual, contemporary and all the things a young twenty-eight-year-old woman might enjoy. But as she’d driven home this morning down Broadway, after spending the night at The Tides, she realized she’d never considered how cluttered the avenues were, how busy, the streets lined with shops, restaurants and brick buildings that looked as though they’d been here from the beginning of time.
All familiar.
Yet nothing so far had seemed quite right.
She would simply have to readjust. After her ordeal in Colorado, she supposed it was natural to feel a little “off” and out of tune with her normal way of life.
Bridget clicked on the radio and turned the dial, finding the station she wanted, tapping her toes to the music, killing time until her visitor arrived. When the knock came Bridget sighed with relief and strode quickly to the door, unlocking and sliding the heavy panel open.
“I brought wedding pictures,” her new cousin Misty announced, lifting a white photo album in the air.
Bridget glanced at Misty’s five-months-pregnant belly. In two weeks it seemed as though she’d grown another dress size, but Bridget wouldn’t dare share those thoughts with her. Misty looked happy and pregnant pretty.
“Misty, I’m so glad you came to visit. Come in. Did you get your pictures back already?”
“Just the proofs. We’ll get to that later.” Misty gave her a good looking over, and once she seemed satisfied, she said, “You had us all worried sick. My maid of honor disappears right after our wedding reception and no one knows a thing! You didn’t tell a soul where you were going. It’s a good thing Bryan knew how to find you.”
“My mistake. I’ll never do anything like that again. Next time I’ll be sure to let someone know where I’m heading.”
Misty’s eyes grew wide and her expression left no room for doubt that she didn’t approve. “Next time?”
Bridget couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Sit down. Take a load off.”
“Hey, watch it. I’m older than you, but I still have some moves.”
Both sat down on Bridget’s cream leather sofa in an area of the loft known as the great room. Three rooms collided into each other and this one was where she relaxed, read, watched television or simply stared out of the giant floor-to-ceiling windows to the street below.
“I thought you used up all your moves on Cullen.”
Her belly rolled when she chuckled. “Bridget, thank God you’re home.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly, biting her lip. “I’m home.”
“Uh-oh, I know that look. What’s wrong?”
Bridget lifted her shoulders, shrugging casually, but inside she felt weighted down by heartache and indecision. “Nothing much, really. Except that I fell in love with the man who probably saved my life. He took me in when I had nowhere to go. Sheriff Mac Riggs. He thinks I’m a spoiled rich socialite with nothing better to do than to cause trouble. He doesn’t approve of what I’m trying to do.”
“Oh, I see.” Misty’s green eyes positively gleamed. “Mmm, a sheriff, you say? Tall, handsome? I bet he looks real good in his uniform.”
The recollection of Mac in his uniform and out of his uniform was never far from her mind. “You’re not making this any easier.”
“Then let me ask you this—if he’s so awful, why bother?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Why bother? He is awful. Awfully stubborn. Awfully demanding.” And then she softened her voice to a mere whisper. “Awfully kind. Awfully generous. Awfully sexy. So awfully good-looking that my heart stopped every time he walked into the room.”
“Wow,” Misty said, with a shake of her head. “So what are you waiting for? You’re obviously crazy about him. Go back to Colorado and change his mind about you.”
Bridget stood up and walked over to the window, glancing down at the street below. Traffic had come to a halt where two drivers had collided in a fender bender. They faced each other on the street, eyes bulging, mouths flapping and fingers pointing. She could only guess at the kind of language they used. She turned back to Misty. “I don’t think I can change his mind.”
“For a time Cullen didn’t think he could change my mind, either, but he did. I wasn’t making it easy on him. Thank goodness I put aside my misgivings. We’re very happy,” she said, patting her growing belly, “with a little one on the way. Bridget, if it’s even remotely possible for you to have that kind of happiness, then do whatever it takes to make it happen.”
Bridget took a deep, steadying breath, absorbing Misty’s advice. But she still had doubts. She’d made herself a promise to write the book that would expose Patrick Elliott. And what of her aunt Fin? Didn’t she deserve some happiness, too? “I’m still not sure, Misty. But I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t think too long, my friend. Sounds like this guy has hunk-eligibility status.” She fell silent for a moment as the radio blasted out Gretchen Wilson singing about rednecked women. “Heck, this guy’s got you listening to country music. That has to mean something, honey. Now, I didn’t just come over here to check on you. You’re the photo editor in the family. How about taking a look at my proofs? I need help picking out a hundred or so for our wedding album.”
“Gee, Misty, only a hundred?” she said on a teasing note, happy to have something productive to do today.
Tomorrow, she planned to start back to work at Charisma.
Bridget walked the halls of Charisma as she’d done a thousand times before, greeted by her employees and co-workers with welcoming smiles and hellos. She stopped to speak with a few, briefly explaining about her absence in the simplest terms. The trip to Colorado and her bout of amnesia were still too raw, too personal to talk about in detail, other than to the very few people she truly trusted.
Aunt Fin fell into that category. Bridget had worked alongside her for years and during that time they’d formed a close bond. Aunt Fin babied Charisma as if it were her own child. Everyone knew it. Everyone understood the need behind the countless hours and the devotion she put into the magazine. There was a void in her aunt’s life, and Bridget had hoped to remedy that by finding the daughter taken from her at birth.
“Morning,” she said, popping her head in the doorway of Finola’s office.
Aunt Fin, knee-deep in paperwork as usual, slowly lifted her head, taking her eyes off the layout she’d been studying on her desk. “Bridget!”
She stood and came around her desk, meeting Bridget halfway into the room. Aunt Fin wrapped her arms around her, giving her a big hug, then pulled back to look into her eyes. “Thank God. You look wonderful.”
“I do?” Bridget hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Or the night before. Pale and weary, she hadn’t spent too much time covering up with makeup, either, this morning. But Aunt Fin always had something nice to say to her.
“You do to me, Bridget. I was worried sick about you.” She guided her to the comfy sofa her aunt often used as a makeshift bed when working through the night. “Have a seat and tell me all about it.”
“Don’t we have a deadline?”
“We do. It can wait. Besides, we’re ahead of schedule right now. I want to hear it all.”
Bridget sat down with her aunt and held nothing back. She told Aunt Fin everything, from the anonymous tip about Finola’s child she’d received at Cullen and Misty’s wedding to her falling in love with and eventual breaking up with Mac. Her aunt sat back and listened attentively, and when Bridget had finally had her say, Aunt Fin took hold of her hands.
“You’re my niece, Bridget. You know that I love you dearly, but I can’t have you ruining your life for me. I want to know my daughter. I’ve dreamed of it often, but I don’t want to cause a disruption in her life. I realize that she might not want to know me, but if she does, I’ve managed to lis
t myself in a worldwide database. All of my information is out there on an adoption Web site. I’m easy to find, if my daughter feels the need. I only hope and pray that she’s had a good life. And when the time is right, we’ll find each other. So, write that book if you absolutely must, but I’d advise not doing it, Bridget. It won’t change anything. If you immerse yourself in anger and resentment, you’ll lose something more important. Love. And nothing is more precious than that. Not a bestselling book. Not even a bestselling magazine,” she said with a sad smile.
“But—”
“No buts, Bridget. My father did something that ruined my life, but don’t let him ruin yours. Scandalizing Patrick Elliott won’t give you a moment of satisfaction, and he’ll still end up the winner, while you…you’ll have lost the man you love. Is it worth the price?”
Bridget drew her lip in, contemplating. “I hadn’t quite thought of it in those terms.”
“How much is Mac’s love worth to you, Bridget? If you can let go of the past, you could have a wonderful future.”
“That’s a big if.”
“Well, I’ll give you another if. If it were me, I’d be on the next jet back to Colorado.”
Bridget took Aunt Fin’s advice and the next jet back to Colorado. She stood outside the Winchester County Sheriff’s Station, butterflies attacking her stomach, her heart pounding madly and her head spinning. It was nearly midnight and she’d learned from Lizzie that Mac had been putting in late hours at the station these days. Mac’s sister had seemed surprised to see her on her doorstep at that late hour, but she hadn’t flinched, merely told her where she could find Mac, giving her a nod of reassurance and a big hug.
Bridget had needed that extra bit of encouragement. She’d always met her battles head-on, but this time it was different. This time her future was at stake. She was taking a giant leap of faith here.
Bridget entered the station house and was greeted by a deputy sheriff who recognized her. “He’s in his office. Maybe you could do something to put a smile on his face. He’s crankier than my old water heater.”
Bridget nearly lost her nerve, but she talked herself out of fleeing the scene. She had to play this out. If she didn’t, then she’d never know whether she stood a chance with the only man she’d ever love. She took the steps necessary to reach his office door, and knocked softly.
“What?” he bellowed.
His bluster made her smile. He didn’t scare her. He never had. Instead, the sound of his gruff voice reminded her of how much she loved him.
She opened his door and stepped inside. “Working kind of late, aren’t you?”
Mac snapped his head up from his desk. Surprise registered on his face, and his eyes were unreadable, except for one quick flash of hope. Then, catching himself, he looked down at the papers he’d been working on. “If you’re here about your aunt’s child, I think I know how you might find her.”
“No, that’s not why I’m here, Mac. Aunt Fin doesn’t need or want my help. I’ve given up that search. She’s listed her name on an adoption database. If her daughter wants to find her, she can.”
Mac pursed his lips and nodded, keeping his eyes downcast. “We found your rental car in the lake about a mile up from where the others were found. Found the boys responsible, too.”
“That’s good, Mac. I knew you’d find them.”
“Your luggage wasn’t in there. They’d disposed of it.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Mac lifted his eyes to hers finally, staring at her, then he shifted his gaze to her throat. Bridget fingered the silver necklace he’d given her, the necklace she had never removed.
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t. So why are you here?”
Bridget smiled and walked over to the side of his desk. Mac leaned way back in his chair, putting space between them. He couldn’t let his guard down. Not yet. Not until he knew why she’d come. She looked beautiful and elegant, even though she wore a pair of blue jeans. They weren’t Levi’s, but some designer label that probably cost five times more than they should. Over them she wore theT-shirt he’d once given her. She’d rolled up the sleeves and tied the shirt at her waist, the initials WCSD crossing over her breasts. Winchester County Sheriff’s Department.
Ah, hell.
Bridget dug deep into her big black tote and came up with a white bag from Colorado Chuck’s. “One for me and one for you,” she said, setting two Pike’s Peak burgers out in front of him. The sloppy chili and onion-filled burgers stunk up the place, but Mac didn’t give a damn. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“Aside from a good meal, I came here to file a missing person’s report. Seems that Bridget Elliott is missing.” She seated herself on top of Mac’s desk and leaned in a bit. Mac breathed in her scent, gazed at her silky blond hair and looked into her big lavender-blue eyes.
“Is she?”
“Well, the cynical and ruthless part of her is missing. And I’m sure that part of her will never be found again. Gone for good.”
“And what else should I put in this report?”
“Well, it seems that Bridget Elliott still wants to write a book.”
Mac’s eyebrows arched up and he cursed the hope he’d experienced the second she walked into his office. She hadn’t changed. She still meant to write that mean-spirited book.
“A children’s book. Seems Bridget loved reading to the little ones at the bookstore. She thinks she might have found her true calling, writing children’s books. That’s all she plans on writing, Mac.” Bridget smiled and her eyes shone with light. “Jane and Bridget are one and the same. I can’t deny who I am. Yes, I’m wealthy, and all my life I’ve had privileges most people don’t dare to imagine. But I’ve changed, Mac. Living here with you opened my eyes and my heart to something more important. The only thing I want now is your love, if you’ll have me.”
Hope sprung up again at her admission. She’d given up her idea of writing that scandalous book about her family. Maybe she was more like his Jane Doe than she thought.
Mac rose from his seat and stood before her. He braced both hands on the desk, trapping her so close that only inches separated their bodies. “Are you saying you’re willing to give up trips to Europe, designer clothes and a lifestyle that most women only dream about?”
Bridget wrapped both arms around his neck and nodded. “For a chance at a lifetime of Pike’s Peak burgers, rides out at your ranch on Daisy Mae and waking up with you every morning, Sheriff Riggs? You bet.”
Mac could hardly believe he’d heard right. Heart pounding, head ringing, he had to ask, “Are you sure?”
Bridget’s smile faded and for a moment he thought he’d imagined it all. “Mac, my whole family’s in New York. I love them. I’ll need to be in New York sometimes.”
“We can manage that.”
“We can?” she said, a hopeful note in her voice.
“Hell, Bridget. Look at this.” He opened his desk drawer and lifted out the ticket he had tucked away. He handed it to her.
“It’s a ticket to New York,” she said, slightly puzzled. Then her beautiful eyes flashed brightly. “You were coming to see me tomorrow?”
“Planning on making a fool out of myself. I’d hoped to talk some sense into you and bring you home.”
Joy washed over Bridget’s face and those twin dimples peeked out, deep and adorable. Mac had never known love this powerful before. He’d never known that he could love someone so different from himself. He and Bridget came from opposite worlds, yet here he was, so deeply in love that he’d set aside all his misgivings and doubts to take the greatest leap of faith he’d ever had to face. “I’m crazy about you, sweetheart.”
Bridget tossed her head back, her eyes shining. “I’m crazy about you, too.”
Mac dipped into his desk drawer one more time, coming up with a black velvet box. Bridget gasped when she noticed it.
“Well, I might as well make a fool of myself tonight,” he muttered. “Bridget Elliott, I l
ove you with all of my heart. Will you—”
Bridget grabbed the black box and opened it. “Yes, yes! Oh, it’s beautiful, Mac. My answer is yes.”
He chuckled and placed the diamond ring on her finger. “Marry me,” he finished, but he already had his answer. “Be my wife.”
“Oh, Mac. I love you so much,” she breathed quietly, as much in awe as he was.
He bent and kissed his soon-to-be wife deeply, his heart filled with love and devotion. The kiss went longer and deeper than Mac had expected, their mouths and bodies hungry for each other. When Bridget leaned back on his desk, papers flew as Mac followed her down.
“Mac,” she whispered in a raspy voice, “you think it’s a crime to make love to the sheriff in his office?”
Mac lifted himself off of her. “Probably,” he said, walking swiftly to his office door and locking it good and tight before returning to the desk. He covered her body with his and claimed her lips in a long, slow, sexy kiss.
“But it’d be more than a crime if we didn’t, sweetheart. It’d be a damn shame.”
ISBN: 978-1-55254-700-0
DYNASTIES THE ELLIOTTS, BOOKS 1-6
Copyright © 2006 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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Dynasties: The Elliotts, Books 1-6 Page 79