The Sheriff's Secret Wife

by Christyne Butler

  Maybe he should talk to him. Max always said he owed the Steeles a favor after Gage's father had saved his life when thieves had tried to rob the bar years ago. Gage had planned to call in the marker when it came to Gina's employment, but Racy had shown up before he'd been able to play the "good turn" card, but now—

  Stop.

  Gage shook his head. Jeez, didn't he ever learn? Look what had happened the last time he'd tried to help her. His fingers moved to the divorce papers, softly drumming as he glanced at the fireplace, nothing now but fiery embers. It would be so easy. A few seconds and they'd be nothing but smoke and ash. The temptation crawled inside his gut, but he knew getting rid of the physical evidence wouldn't change a thing.

  A shiver raced through him. He blamed it on the chilly night air and quickly banked the fire, checked the door and positioned his cell phone on the bedside table before returning to Racy's side. He slid in to spoon against her, his front to her back, skin to skin.

  She murmured something low he couldn't hear as she laced her fingers through his and continued to sleep. He left a small kiss on her ear before whispering, "Good night, Mrs. Steele."

  Chapter Twelve

  G age awoke the next morning to bright shafts of sunlight streaming through lace curtains and the hiss and clang of the antique radiator. Alone. He reached out to the empty spot next to him. Faint heat from Racy's body clung to the bedding. The toilet flushed, then running water sounded.

  Relief washed over him. He relaxed into the pillows and pulled the blankets up to his chest. He propped his hands behind his head, surprised she'd awakened before him. She'd been exhausted. It'd been a rough month for her and he hadn't helped, even when he'd tried to. But last night had been the start of something new, something better, for the both of them.

  So what if they hadn't followed the traditional way to getting married? Hell, they hadn't even been on an official date. That was something he planned to change right away. They belonged together. He liked the sound of that. Together.

  The water turned off and Gage closed his eyes. He'd wait until Racy crawled back into bed before letting her know just how awake he was. Without the benefit of sight, his other senses went on full alert. He heard the creak of the bathroom door opening. A minty scent meant she'd brushed her teeth. He slowed his breathing and remained still, but the blankets didn't stir. Her weight never shifted the mattress.

  He heard light footsteps as she moved around the room. A rustling noise near the fire instantly reminded him he'd seen an overnight bag near the chairs. He opened one eye a tiny crack.

  She was leaving. Already dressed in jeans and a gray sweat jacket, she had her boots in one hand, her purse in the other.

  Oh, hell no.

  He looked at the desk—the folder of paperwork was gone, but her keys still lay there. She must have spotted them, too. He waited until she had them in her grasp before he shot out of the bed, wrapped her in his arms and yanked her backward.

  "Oh!"

  They tumbled back onto the bed, her boots and purse flying from her hands. He easily held her down with one leg over hers, scooting out of the way when she tried to take advantage of his nakedness with a well-placed knee or hip.

  Grabbing her wrists, he trapped them on the bed and leaned over her. "Going somewhere?"

  * * *

  Racy squirmed and bucked, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. A very muscular, very sexy brick wall that didn't budge an inch. It reminded her of the amazing way this man had made love to her last night.

  Right after he'd almost spilled the dreaded L word.

  "I asked you a question."

  His words, more like a low growl, set off the familiar internal sparklers that would soon turn into incredible, mind-blowing, resistance-crumbling fireworks.

  She gave up the fight and glared at him. "Get off me."

  "No." His blue eyes darkened.

  Desire mixed with a hint of anger shined in their depths and her breath disappeared. "You weigh a ton. I can't breathe."

  It was true, sort of. But her inability to inhale had more to do with the hard arousal pressed against her thigh than his actual weight.

  He shifted his upper body to the left, but dropped his head closer, his mouth inches away from hers. "Better?"

  No, his powerful lower half still had her pinned. "You know it's not."

  "You're right. Now, spill."

  She turned away and stared at the wall. "Spill what—ah…" The brush of his lips on her neck had her biting back a moan. "Wh-what are you doing?"

  "Being persuasive," he whispered before kissing her again. This time his lips moved from her ear to her collarbone and back again. "Hmm, you smell good."

  It took all her strength not to respond with the same sentiment. He smelled as good as he had last night when she'd fallen asleep on him. Literally. When she'd woken this morning, she'd had to admit it was the best night's sleep she'd had in months.

  And despite her pledge to not get emotionally involved, she'd screwed up again.

  Being in the moment, throwing their cares to the wind, doing it one more time for old times' sake, should've been enough. It was what she'd been going for when she'd blocked out the sight of the divorce papers and listened to her body.

  And her heart.

  It was why she'd made that pretty little speech about not expecting anything from him. Of course, practically begging him to love her probably hadn't helped. So when he'd tried to speak, she'd stopped him with a fervent kiss. She couldn't stand the idea that something he might say in the heat of passion would turn into something he'd regret in the light of day.

  But then he'd wrapped her in his arms, kissed her goodnight and called her Mrs. Steele. And she was right on the edge of falling for the fairy tale, complete with the prince on a white horse and the happily-ever-after. She was hanging on to reality with the tips of her fingers, and that scared the crap out of her, which was why she'd decided to do what she did best.

  Run.

  "Gage, please…"

  He must have picked up on the desperation in her voice, because he backed off and released her wrists. She tried to push against one beefy shoulder, but the feel of his fingers on her cheek froze her in place.

  He applied gentle pressure until she was forced to turn back to him. "What's going on, Racy? Talk to me."

  Oh, damn, she didn't know how to deal with this kind of Gage Steele. Sweet and sexy and very appealing. When he was being a pain in the ass, yeah, he was still appealing, but she could give back as good as she got. This…this Gage she had no defenses against.

  "Noth-nothing. I just need to…ah, to get home and clean up my place." She latched on to the best—okay, the first—reason that popped into her head. At least it was the truth.

  He propped up on an elbow, still keeping her immobile. "You're sneaking out because you need to clean?"

  "Yes, I had my place bombed yesterday."

  One eyebrow arched. Here we go again. "Excuse me?"

  "An exterminator came in and fumigated. I know…January and bugs don't mix, but they do for me. Anyway, I figured I'd be gone all day with the wedding and after the reception I'd find a place to crash—"

  "So any bed last night would've worked for you?"

  A direct hit and they were back in familiar territory. "You're the one who followed me up here!"

  "All I'm asking for is a little honesty."

  She pulled a deep breath. Big mistake.

  Her breasts rubbed against him. His jaw clenched and his hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers starting a rhythmic massage. He looked like he was going to kiss her again, on the mouth this time.

  "Look, having spent most of the last week pissed off over a misunderstanding totally drained me." The words tumbled from her. "But I was confused and mad and trying to deal with my finals while staying upbeat for Maggie."

  "You told me that last night. Before we made love."

  She sighed. "Gage, last night was…was…"


  "Amazing? Mind-blowing? Awesome?"

  "Inevitable."

  That stopped him.

  "You and I have had this…thing between us for a long time," she continued, taking advantage of his stunned silence. His words describing last night branded her heart. "What happened in Vegas was just the coming together of—of—I don't know, the right cosmic forces or the alignment of the planets with both of us in the same place, same time—"

  "So what does that make last night? A final itch you had to scratch?"

  Racy paused, unsure how to answer.

  Over the last five months, she'd spent the same amount of time mad at him, for one thing or another, as she had fantasizing about the passionate night they'd shared in Vegas. She'd wondered, even after that kiss in his living room, if being together could've possibly been that good.

  It had.

  So, they had good—no, make that great sex, in common, but little else.

  He wasn't like any of the other men she'd had in her life. He embodied everything good and decent and true. He was strong and loyal and committed to his family and this town. He took care of everyone—even her—despite the craziness it brought to his life. She could never live up to that standard, no matter how hard she tried.

  "Racy, this is going to seem like a crazy question…"

  His voice yanked her out of her musings. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but every muscle in her body froze and refused to cooperate.

  Ohmigod—he wasn't going to—even though technically they already—no, he couldn't actually be—

  "Is this my sweat jacket?" he asked.

  She blinked, then watched his gaze travel over the tattered, well-washed gray zippered jacket she'd thrown on this morning in her haste to get dressed.

  "Huh?"

  "I asked if this—" He reached for the jacket collar.

  Racy knew he was looking for the white hand-stitched tag with his initials. The tag was now yellow and faded with age. The G and M were gone, as was most of the S, but the faint outline was still there.

  "I'll be damned, it is! Where'd you get—" Realization dawned in his eyes. "Just before graduation…that afternoon in my truck out at the lake. You kept it? All this time?"

  She shrugged and aimed for nonchalant. "Yeah, well, it's been in the back of my closet for years."

  He fingered the well-worn cuff on one sleeve, then the repaired bottom edge. His fingers skimmed across her belly, his touch hot on her already heated skin. Her muscles clenched as he traced the zipper upward until he reached where the metal pull rested between her breasts.

  "You're lying. You've worn this before. You've worn it often. In fact—" he lowered his head until their noses touched, his words a hot rush over her lips "—you had it on the day I told you we were still marr—"

  The shrill ring of his cell phone cut off his words.

  Gage squeezed his eyes shut and gutted out a couple of coarse, but softly spoken, curse words.

  Racy waited until he sat up and put the phone to his ear to wiggle away from him, trying not to look at the magnificent naked body on display.

  "Steele here."

  She reached for her boots and tugged them on, knowing he watched her every move.

  "What? When? Has the fire department been called?" He sat up straight, and shoved a hand through his dark hair as every muscle in his abdomen flexed. "How bad is it?"

  His clipped tone caused her to pause, but she had to get out of there while she could. Her purse had landed under the desk. Where the hell had her keys gone?

  The blue-and-white logo of The Blue Creek key ring nestled in the jumbled bedding caught her eye. Success.

  "What's the location? Is it commercial or…ah, dammit!"

  His hand clamped down on hers as she grabbed her keys. "Hey!"

  "I'm on my way." He said into his phone then ended the call. "Racy, wait."

  "I can't." She twisted her wrist, surprised when he let go. "I need to get going and it sounds like you have some pressing—"

  He scooted to the edge of the bed. "Where's Jack?"

  "What?" She backed up a step. "Why would you ask—"

  He grabbed his underwear from the floor and slipped them on. "Racy, answer me. Where's Jack?"

  "Out at Maggie's ranch. I told you my place was being fumigated. Do you really think I'd leave—ohmigod…you said fire department. Is it…is it my house?"

  He started toward her, six-plus feet of solid muscle, looking ridiculously sexy in nothing but those red, white and blue cartoon boxers. Compassion and pity filled his dark eyes. "It's gonna be okay—"

  "Ohmigod, it is." An unfathomable horror filled her. No! Not her house, not now! "My house is on fire."

  "Let me get dressed—" Gage reached for his tuxedo pants. "Dammit, we need to stop by my office. I've got clothes there."

  "No." She backpedaled from his outstretched hand, stumbling over her duffel bag. "I need to go. I need to go now."

  "Racy—"

  She grabbed her bag, the webbed handles pressing into her palm as a sick thought filled her head. Its contents might be all she had left in the world. "I have to go home."

  She rushed from the room and flew down the stairs. Jumping into her Mustang, she gunned it to life. Snow and slush spraying from her tires, she raced out of the parking lot. Mindful of the Saturday-morning crowds, she blessed every traffic light that went her way as she headed down Destiny's main street.

  The sight of kids playing in the snow with their dogs had her sending a quick prayer of thanks her precious pet wasn't at home. The tears she refused to allow to fall stung the back of her eyes, blurring her vision. She brushed them away and opened the driver's-side window, welcoming the rush of cold air on her face. Once on the outskirts of town, she picked up speed.

  She knew better.

  She knew better than to dream, to plan, to believe. It always came back to bite her in the ass.

  But not this time, please, not this time.

  Ten minutes later she turned onto her road and the smell of smoke rushed in her open window. Ohmigod, it was real. It really was happening.

  Her fingers clenched the wheel as she slowed for the last bend, bright orange-and-yellow flames visible through the trees. A half-dozen pickup trucks crowded the long drive, forcing her to park on the side of the road. Her car slid into a snowbank when she hit the brakes and she scrambled out, leaving the door open behind her.

  A stomach-turning, nose-burning stench hit her full in the face as she sped up her snow-and-dirt driveway. Someone called her name, but she didn't stop. She staggered around the end of one of the fire department pickup trucks and was blasted with a flash of red-hot heat.

  Mesmerized, she stared at her home, completely engulfed in flames that shot out of every window and through the roof.

  It was gone. All gone.

  "Racy! What are you doing? Get back!"

  A pair of hands gripped her and yanked her backward. She tried to pull away, but the fingers wouldn't let go.

  "Don't fight me, girl. You need to get away from here."

  She spun around and found Leeann tugging on her arm. "Lee, what are you—what happened? What's going on?"

  "Come on, hon, let the firefighters do their jobs." Her friend wrapped an arm around her, forcing Racy to move back behind the main fire truck.

  Numbness took over as she watched Destiny's volunteer firefighters, including Devlin Murphy, who barked out orders from the side yard. Many were regulars at The Blue Creek and she'd always joked she expected great service if she ever needed to call on them.

  "It's gone," she whispered. "It's all gone. I tried…tried to do it right…but I screwed up. Again. Am I ever going to learn?"

  Leeann grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "You must be freezing. And don't panic yet. They might be able to save—"

  "Save what?" she cried. "Look at it! Everything I have…my life…is in that house."

  "Jack is safe, right? You told me at the reception he
was at Maggie's."

  "Y-yes, he is, thank God, but you don't understand—"

  "I do understand." Leeann set the blanket back over Racy's shoulders. "Better than most."

  Of course she did. "Oh, Lee, I'm sorry. I didn't think about your family's home being destroyed by fire."

  "That was years ago and no one was living there at the time, so it's not the same, but I do know what you're going through." Leeann pulled her into a hug. "Now, is there a chance anyone else was inside your place?"