Sheriff In Her Stocking
By
Cheryl Gorman
Copyright © 2012 Cheryl Gorman
Cover Art by Rae Monet Designs http://www.raemonet.com
All rights reserved. This e-book is not transferable. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form including but not limited to printing, faxing, e-mailing, photocopying or by any manner of information retrieval through electronic means or through the postal service without the express permission of the publisher. This e-book is a work of fiction and a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person or persons living or dead, places, incidents, locations or businesses is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Delaney Moore grabbed another double-chocolate chip cookie from the bag sitting on the passenger seat of her Mini Cooper. Suddenly, the compact car fish-tailed wildly over the dark, icy Montana highway and slid toward the snow-packed shoulder of the road.
A spurt of fear fueled with adrenaline zipped through Delaney's body. Her eyes widened and her heart lurched into her throat. Breath huffed from her lungs in short, ragged gasps. "Okay. . .just. . ..don't panic."
She popped the cookie between her teeth and tightened both hands on the steering wheel before easing her foot off the accelerator. Gently pumping the break pedal, the car continued skidding toward the side of the highway. “No, nooo.”
As if in slow motion, the car plowed into the snow bank with a muffled crunch. Snow sailed upward into the air and landed with a soft plop onto the hood of her car. Delaney jerked in the seat but avoided hitting her head on the steering wheel. The cookie flew from her mouth, hit the windscreen and broke into several pieces before falling to the dashboard. The engine sputtered once and died. Quickly, Delaney turned the key in the ignition. Click. “Please start. . .” She tried again. Click. There wasn't even the slightest whine from the engine. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she murmured to herself.
Unsnapping her seat belt, she slumped back in the seat and heaved a deep breath thankful the airbag hadn’t deployed. The windscreen wipers futilely beat in a steady thump, thump against the rapidly building snow. "Great. It's almost Christmas, you've been dumped by your two-timing boyfriend and now you're stuck in the middle of this frozen wasteland." She spied the pieces of broken cookie on the dash and shrugged. “Might as well eat.”
Resigned to her situation, she grabbed one, popped it into her mouth and angrily chewed. "To hell with what's-his-name, he can just get screwed." She shook her head. The rat fink bastard was probably doing just that right now with his new skinny girlfriend.
Delaney wiped some crumbs from around her mouth, leaned over and reached into her large, hobo-style purse sitting on the floor on the passenger's side. She pulled out her cell phone. Pushing the power button, she waited but the small screen flashed a message indicating no service. She turned off the phone and tossed the useless piece of metal and plastic back into her bag. Gazing through the windscreen, snow sifted down in dense, white sheets through the beams of the car's headlights. What the hell was she going to do?
A flicker of light in the rearview mirror snagged her attention. Relief washed through her. Thank goodness. The police. The strobe light on the roof flashed bright red and blue in the steadily falling snow. The jeep pulled to the side of the road and stopped. She watched as the officer climbed out. He looked huge, kind of like Batman emerging from the fog. Seeing him walking toward her comforted her until she remembered an episode from a crime show she'd seen recently. Her sense of ease morphed into trepidation. The episode was about a crazed killer impersonating a police officer in order to lure unsuspecting women into his sinister web.
The officer stepped beside the driver's door, shined a flashlight's beam into her face, and tapped on the window. For a moment she considered not opening it. Get a grip, Delaney. Crazed killers don't lurk in snow storms. Or do they? Taking a deep breath to calm her rising nerves, Delaney rolled the window down an inch. Icy wind and snowflakes dashed against her face nearly taking her breath.
"You okay?" His voice was deep and concerned even as he shouted the words above the howling wind.
She wished she could see his face clearly but between the darkness and his plastic-covered hat it was impossible to get a good look at him. "I am, but my car isn't."
"I'm Sheriff Rick Cruz from Avery. You won't be able to get a tow this late because of the storm. I'd be glad to give you a lift into town."
Delaney thought about her cell phone sitting in her purse. If only she could call the town and verify his identity. "Could I see your badge, please?"
He reached inside the lapel of his coat, withdrew his badge and slipped it through the crack in the window.
Delaney studied it for a moment before handing it back to him. It looked real enough. "Thank you. I just needed to make sure."
"No problem. It's a smart thing to do."
Delaney put on her coat, grabbed her purse from the floor board, stuffed the bag of cookies inside and flipped the lock switch. She glanced down at her clothes. Why did I wear a skirt today? At least she had on boots. As Delaney started to climb out of the car with her hand gripping the handle for balance, Officer Cruz swung the door open.
He stepped around the door until he faced her and held it open with one hand. “Be careful, it’s icy.”
Just as her boot-clad feet touched the ground, a gust of wind slammed into her. Her feet slipped on the ice. “Oh, no!”
She jerked her head toward the officer, kept one hand on the door handle and grabbed the lapel of his coat with the other in an attempt to steady herself. Her mid length skirt billowed up in the wind exposing the lower half of her body and chilling her to the bone.
The officer let go of the door and wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her toward him, but trapping the skirt between them. “Easy, I’ve got you.”
Unable to get her feet back under her, Delaney started to fall pulling the officer with her. Her purse flew up into the air dislodging the bag of cookies. Double chocolate chip scattered in all directions as they fell in a tangle of arms and legs into a snow drift.
Dazed from the fall, Delaney didn’t move for a moment. Her skirt was twisted around her upper body. The officer lay half on top of her with one of his knees pressed against her femininity, his right arm wrapped firmly around her waist and his left palm lying on her right breast. Every inch of him touching her felt firm and corded with muscle. His face was shoved into the side of her neck while his warm, ragged breath wafted over her skin.
Despite the blessed heat from his body, Delaney felt as though she’d been immersed in ice water and the air had been suctioned from her lungs. Snow pushed into places snow wasn’t meant to go. She inhaled a deep breath of frigid air as a shudder racked her body. Her left arm was buried in the snow while the other was sandwiched beneath the officer’s body. She moved her fingers and they closed around a warm, hard bulge. Delaney’s eyes widened.
At that moment, Officer Cruz shifted his hand from her breast, lifted his head and propped himself up with one arm.
Delaney pulled her hand from his crotch and attempted a smile. “Sorry.”
The headlights from his vehicle illuminated the officer’s face. His hat had been knocked off during the fall. Snow flakes coated his long, thick lashes and black, wavy hair. A corner of his firm, sensual mouth kicked up. One word popped into her mind. Gorgeous.
His chocolate, brown gaze skimmed her face. “Are you okay Miss. . .?”
“Delaney Moore”. She nodded. “I think so.”
The officer rolled off of her and climbed to his feet. He leaned over and held his glove covered hands out toward her. “Grab hold, I’ll help you up.”
Shoving down her skirt, Delaney reached up and gripped his hands. She attempted to plant her feet firmly under her, but as she struggled to regain her balance, she fell against him. She let go of his hands and placed her palms on his chest. Pushing back a little, she lifted her chin. Her gaze collided with his. “I’m really sorry. I’m usually not this clumsy.”
He threw her another half-smile and she nearly melted into the snow. “Don’t worry about it.”
* * * * *
Delaney settled back into the leather seat of the truck, leaned her head against the headrest and sighed. She smelled food. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or the fact that she had another urge for a cookie. She looked through the windscreen and watched the sheriff lifting her suitcase from the trunk of her car. He was a long, tall drink of man with broad shoulders and strong arms that she bet could protect a woman from anything that came down the pike.
Cookies were scattered at his feet. Hoping one had fallen out of the bag into her purse she rummaged through it but found nothing. Sheriff Cruz said not to worry about being clumsy. Usually she didn’t give such things a second thought but for some odd reason he made her feel like an idiot.
She supposed it was because of the affect he had on her. He was so solid and male and well...hot. The man radiated strength and vitality. She’d heard that Latino men were very passionate though she’d never dated one. But if the way he looked and the sound of his voice were any indication that was most definitely true.
Warm air pumped from the heater into the interior relaxing her. She closed her eyes and listened to the music with a Salsa beat wafting from a CD player sitting on the bench seat. She found herself tapping her foot in time to the music. She’d never really listened to that particular kind of music and supposed it was because she didn’t have any Hispanic friends. Most of her friends she’d met in college or she’d known since childhood. They shared the same white protestant background. Her parents expected her to eventually settle down with that same kind of man and she supposed she would one day if the right man ever came along.
Then why was she so instantly attracted to Sheriff Cruz? She shook her head and chalked it up to exhaustion and her love life swirling down the toilet.
The driver’s door suddenly swung open. Delaney straightened in her seat and watched all six foot something inches of Sheriff Cruz climb in. He raked his fingers through his ebony hair scattering snowflakes before turning toward her. His eyes, the color of rich, dark chocolate caressed her face making her want to move closer to him. “The storm’s picking up. The road’s bad now but soon it’ll be impassable.”
Delaney thought about being stranded on the side of the road with the Sheriff. How bad could it be stuck in close quarters with a hottie like him? Wait a minute she didn’t even know him. Living in Seattle they didn’t get snow often. In fact, with all the white stuff falling outside she imagined the possibility of being snowbound with the sheriff was entirely possible. “Do you think we might not make it into town?
He smiled reassuringly calming her anxiety. “No, don’t worry, this truck will go anywhere. Better fasten your seat belt.”
She reached for the seat belt and pulled but it wouldn’t budge. She yanked again but the darn thing didn’t release. “It seems to be stuck.”
He huffed. “Sorry about that.” He slid across the seat and reached around her. His scent of soap and light aftershave surrounded her making her skin tingle. He grabbed the belt and pulled. His arm brushed over her breasts. Heat from his touch suffused her chest engorging her nipples. She felt them pucker beneath her blouse and was thankful she still wore her coat.
Delaney studied his face, barely an inch from hers. His skin was olive, his cheekbones defined, his lips well shaped. He bumped against her and turned his head. “Sorry.” Her breath caught as his gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth. They were like two deer caught in headlights. Suddenly she wanted to touch him, hold him, kiss him. Mesmerized, she moved slightly toward him nearly drowning in the mahogany depths of his eyes. He moved closer to her, his breath wafting over her lips. She licked them hoping to somehow experience his flavor on her tongue.
A freight truck rolled past scattering snow onto the side of the police cruiser. For a moment, the truck’s engine hummed through the snow laden air before fading into the distance. The sheriff jerked his attention toward the seatbelt, pulled once more and snapped it into the buckle.
Her stomach growled.
He smiled and raised one brow. “Hungry?”
Oh, she was hungry all right. “A little. It’s just that it smells like food in here.”
He moved to the driver’s side, checked his rearview mirror and pulled the truck onto the snow covered highway. “I delivered some food to a lady who lives outside of town. You were lucky I happened to come along.”
She was surprised. “You deliver food too?”
“Avery’s a small town.” He turned off the CD player. “The citizens depend on me for a lot of things in addition to upholding the law.”
“Does that include rescuing stranded women during snow storms?”
He chuckled and his laughter washed through her down to her toes. Did he have a sense of humor in bed? She shook herself inwardly. Why would she think such a thing?
“Actually, you’re my first. Mostly it’s traffic complaints, domestic disturbances, drunks or trouble with some of the local teenagers.”
There was no way she could pursue this man. As soon as the storm cleared, she was moving on. Good thing too. Her family probably wouldn’t like it if she became involved with a man like him. He was the dark, sultry Latin type. Even though she wasn’t particularly close to her parents, she was aware of what they expected of her and had never bucked their wishes or opinions. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and let her gaze travel from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Well...it couldn’t hurt to dream.
* * * * *
A few minutes later, he maneuvered the truck through the town. Avery appeared picture perfect covered in a thick blanket of snow. Christmas wreaths strung with twinkle lights swung in the wind where they hung on the light posts. The streets were empty, the stores locked up tight.
Rick pulled the truck into a space in front of a building and cut the engine. Delaney blinked when she saw the sign on the door. “Why are we stopping here?”
He turned and looked at her. Beams from a street light flowed in and illuminated his head in a halo so she couldn’t see his features clearly. “The bed and breakfast is full with the Lawson family in town for the holidays visiting their grandparents. The best I can offer you is a jail cell.”
Startled by his suggestion, her mouth popped open. “A jail cell?”
He shrugged. “It’s clean. There’s even a bathroom with a shower at the end of the hall.” He made it sound like a hotel. “Until the storm passes...”
She’d never even been inside a jail, now she was going to have to spend the night in a cell or perhaps two nights or more. What choice did she have? “I’ll take it.”
He swung his office door open, flipped a switch and the space flooded with light. Delaney stepped inside and looked around. The room was small with a wood floor and walls painted a stark white. A file cabinet occupied the back wall. An oak desk of average size sat under a small window and contained a phone and a rolodex with file folders neatly stacked in the center. A calendar, advertising Griffin’s Hardware store, hung over the file cabinet.
Rick closed the door at her back, stepped around her with her suitcase in one hand and headed toward a door in the back that led to a darkened hallway. “Cell’s through here. We only have one.” His voice was polite and matter-of-fact. “It’s not used very often except by the occasional drunk.”
She thought of an old television show she’d seen recently. “Like Otis.”
He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. “Otis?”
“From the Andy Griffith show.”
“Not quite.” H
e walked through the door and flipped another switch. An overhead light dispelled the darkness. “Most drunks I lock up are belligerent. They aren’t happy drunks like Otis.” He walked over to the jail cell, grasped the door and swung it open. There was a simple lock on the door, no fancy electronics for security. He set her suitcase inside the cell and turned. “You’ll be safe here.” He smiled at her again and she felt the inevitable melt down. “No one’s ever broken into the sheriff’s office not even to spring a prisoner.”
There was a cot against the wall with white sheets, a pillow and a coarse blanket folded neatly on one end. A sink and toilet sat against one wall. No rocking chair with doilies Aunt Bee had made, no pictures on the walls, no side table with a lamp and books to read. She looked up at the tiny window covered with iron bars situated high up the wall over the cot. No escape.
The cell contained not the slightest sign of Christmas not even a sprig of holly. Delaney thought about the cozy apartment she’d left behind in Seattle, the same apartment where she’d plan to share Christmas with her boyfriend. She’d left town hoping to start a new chapter in her life in New York City. Only she never bargained on a jail cell in small town America no matter how temporary. She forced a smile. “Home sweet home.”
* * * * *
Rick climbed into the cab of his truck and slammed the door. He huffed out a breath. “Shit.” He leaned his head back and stared at the falling snow through the windscreen. He was headed toward home sweet home not her. He’d told her the cell was the best he could do, but that was a damn lie. He had a perfectly comfortable fold out sofa in the den at his house that any one of his family members used when they came to visit. So why hadn’t he invited her to come home with him? The answer was simple.
He didn’t trust himself to keep his hands off her.
He smiled. Discovering her hand on his crotch after they’d tumbled into the snow was a surprise and a delight. Especially when her fingers closed around him right before she pulled her hand away. Both those actions made him hard in an instant. Besides, there was something about her, the way she talked and moved, the expressions he watched flicker in her cobalt eyes. She was sexy as all hell and he didn’t have a clue why. She wasn’t even his type. He usually went for slim brunettes, women who worked out, watched what they ate. But Delaney Moore, with her fair complexion and silvery blonde hair was far from his normal kind of woman. She had sensuous curves and she traveled with an open bag of chocolate chip cookies in her car. No woman he’d ever dated did that.
Sheriff in Her Stocking Page 1