Loving the Texas Lawman

by Sands, Charlene

Beau’s innocent question seared Jack like a branding iron. “Who’s gonna be my papa now?”

  Now, Jack was the frightened one – afraid to lose someone else he had come to love. He had only been four years old when his own mother left town. The divorce knocked his world sideways and Monty had won full custody of Jack when his mother failed to show up to court. His father always said, it was for the best, and Jack had grown up being a loyal son to his dad, never really knowing his mother until she was on her deathbed. He’d gone to her then, as a boy of fourteen and held her hand during her last few hours on earth. She’d been a stranger to him, but his mother nonetheless. And Jack had shed tears at her passing.

  The knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the kitchen clock. It was almost midnight. He hadn’t heard a car pull up so he ruled out his father, Monty, coming out for a late night visit. From the sound of the soft knock it wasn’t his cousin Trey, who was most likely tucked around his wife Maddie at 2 Hope Ranch tonight. Which meant it could only be one person behind his door.

  Jillian.

  Lord, she was a complication he didn’t need now. Jack approached the door with caution. Jillian was always up to something, forever getting in over her head. He wondered what it was this time. What in heaven brought her back to Texas after an eleven-year absence?

  He opened the door and squinted, adjusting to the bright porch light. Jillian came into focus fast, standing on his doorstep wearing a delicate, crimson lace nightie. Shit. Blood pumped faster in his veins. The garment sported a tiny insignia BT on the scooped neckline – Barely There.

  Hell, yeah. That much was true. There wasn’t much material covering her body. Jillian had named her company appropriately.

  He drew in a deep breath and waited.

  “Jack.” Her breathless voice and sexy outfit did a number on his brain. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  Chapter Two

  “It isn’t?” Jack leaned against the doorjamb and shook his head slightly. “Now that’s too darn bad, Jillian. Cause it sure looks… interesting.”

  Interesting? Since when was he a master of understatement? With her baby blues staring up at him, a man would have to be crazy not to like that package. But Jack wasn’t crazy, just smart. He and Jillian were done and had been for a long time.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing up lush swells that nearly spilled out of her nightie. If she meant to cover herself up, the move was having the opposite effect, giving Jack a pretty enticing view.

  Her face flushed almost the same crimson as that slip of material. “I remembered I needed to make a call and I couldn’t find a phone in the guesthouse so I dashed to my car to get my cell phone and well, the wind blew the door shut. I’m locked out.”

  Jack twisted his mouth. Her explanation sounded reasonable and only a second passed before he realized he really did believe her. But maybe, just a small part of him wanted her to be standing on his doorstep for another reason, one that had to do with unrequited love and youthful regrets. Jack frowned at the thought before stashing it away. The last thing he needed right now was Jillian Lane, in any shape or form, regardless that her shape and form were in the drop-dead gorgeous category.

  “Do you have a spare key?” she asked.

  Jack nodded. “Come in. I’ll try to hunt it down.” He reached for her hand.

  Just then the sound of footfalls caught his attention and the shrubs butting against his front yard fence rustled nosily. He darted a look outside. A man jumped out from behind a tree and a quick flash blasted light into Jack’s face and then a camera began clicking away. Jack reached for his gun. It wasn’t on his hip. On instinct, he yanked Jillian through the doorway and slammed the door shut. She stumbled to the floor and he went down with her, refusing to let her go. He covered her with his body.

  If he was just a photographer, they weren’t in mortal danger. Yet, Jack wasn’t sure about anything right now, other than he had a soft, pliant woman under him and both were half naked.

  He stared into wide blue eyes. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Is someone after you? That guy ran away faster than a jack rabbit with a coyote on his tail.”

  Jillian wiggled a little under him. God. He took in every soft curve, every subtle movement of her lithe body. It was torture. But he wasn’t letting her up until he knew what was going on.

  Jillian released a sigh and her breasts rose up to meet his chest. “Maybe.”

  Jack lifted himself slightly up and away from her heat, the sultry timbre of her voice and the soft curves addling his brain. “What does maybe mean?”

  “I don’t know who it was. But, lately, I’ve had photographers trying to shoot me. With a camera.”

  “Damn paparazzi. Stay here. I’ll go check it out.”

  Jack rose and strode out the front door. In the distance, a car door slammed and an engine revved up. Before he could get off his front lawn, the car tore down the street. Whoever it was, they were gone.

  Jack strode back inside the house to give Jillian a hand up, helping her to her feet. “Stay put, inside. I’m gonna check out the rest of my property.”

  He grabbed his gun and stepped outside, making a thorough assessment of the grounds; the side and backyard as well as the guesthouse. Satisfied no one else was trespassing, he returned to Jillian. “He must’ve gotten what he wanted and taken off. Jillian, are you being stalked?”

  “Not exactly. Not in the conventional way. I suppose, I’m news right now. I, uh—”

  Jack’s phone buzzed. “Hang on. I’ve got to get this.”

  A minute later, he handed Jillian the spare key he’d found in his junk drawer. “Sorry. I’ve got a call. Seems some of the rodeo riders got liquored up at Jinky’s and they’re giving the owner trouble. I’ve got to meet my deputy over there. Are you all right?”

  Jillian nodded. “I’m fine. Really. This… has happened before. I’m not in any danger. They’re just photographers out for a story.”

  What had Jillian gotten herself into? He didn’t have time to question her. He took in her flushed face and reassuring smile. For a brief second, the young girl who had been taunted and teased for having no papa and a mama with a drinking problem, flashed in his mind. Jillian hadn’t buckled under and her bravado had been the trait he’d been drawn to most. “Are you sure? You can stay here until I get back. I probably won’t be too long.”

  “No, Jack,” she said, lifting the spare key he’d given her. “I’ll be fine in the guesthouse. Thanks.”

  Jack reached for his uniform shirt and jammed his arms through before strapping on his gun belt. Jillian’s eyes stayed on him, watching his every move. Heat rose up his neck, the intimacy of this little scene not lost on him. He pointed his finger at her skimpy outfit, the haunting reminder of what she’d felt like under him, a recollection he’d not soon forget. “You’d better not go out looking like that.”

  He reached into his hall closet and handed her one of his old, plaid work shirts. “Put this on before you go outside again. And use the back door this time.”

  “Thanks.” She worked her arms into the large sleeves and rolled them up.

  His shirt hung on her loosely, sagging down to her knees. What should have eased his mind and cooled off his body had the opposite effect. Jillian looked cute, in a sex kitten sort of way and was seductive enough to make him shirk his duties tonight for more time with her.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  Jillian nodded. “I’ll let myself out.”

  Jack walked through the front door, keeping an eye out for any more intruders. Hell, one intruder in his life at a time was all he could take.

  “Thanks again, Jack.” Jillian called from his doorway.

  Her gratitude wasn’t for letting her stay in the guesthouse, or for offering her his shirt, but for caring enough to protect her just like he used to… when they’d been in love.

  *

  Wearing a ponytail under her Tex
as Rangers baseball cap, sunglasses, and a pair of washed-out jeans, Jillian blended in with all the others in attendance at the Hope Wells Annual Rodeo Day. Yet the rodeo, which would be held later today, was only one of the day’s many activities.

  Set in a field in back of town, a picnic area included a small lake, where children raced their plastic boats. Makeshift wooden booths housed homemade crafts and game tables and large hand-painted signs tacked up on trees directed rodeo goers to the bake sale, bingo games, and contest arena.

  Morning sun shined bright as Jillian stood in the background behind a column of trees, watching the proceedings from a short distance away. She kept herself secluded for just a moment longer, relishing the peace and tranquility that went hand in hand with small-town life. People mingled, children ran freely, laughter and lively conversation filled the air.

  For the briefest of moments, Jillian wished she had become a real part of this town, satisfied by being a small-town girl, a wife, and mother who spent her Saturday nights at neighborhood potluck dinners and playing games with a houseful of children. But her life had taken a different path. She’d left small-town life for good, having been shunned by small minds and unsympathetic hearts. Ironically, now she needed Hope Wells and everything she’d worked so hard for banked on her making amends with the people here.

  Jillian focused her attention on the raised plank stage in her direct line of vision. It wasn’t hard to pick out Jack Walker in the lineup of uniformed men striding up the steps, ready to uphold the longtime tradition of raising money for local charities. Jack was everything a small-town woman would want in a man. Devilish good looks, a respectable job, and deep roots in this old ranching town. Bittersweet memories flooded her mind as she recalled all of the crazy dreams they’d shared.

  But Jillian wasn’t that young naïve girl anymore. She wasn’t a small-town girl either. She’d found her home in a thriving, industrious city with work she loved. She’d been fortunate to find a mentor in the design business. A mentor, who’d believed in Jillian’s talent and taken a young girl under her wing. Jillian had worked long hours, dedicating herself to her craft, giving her all to Missy Designs, headed up by Missy Eloise Sager. Missy had been firm, honest, and strict, but she’d also been a dear friend who’d shown Jillian the ropes in the heart of the Los Angeles garment district. Jillian garnered respect there and when Missy retired she’d encouraged her to branch off on her own, to start Barely There, Jillian’s dream. And, after some time, she’d succeeded. She’d gained acceptance in the design world, acceptance that had eluded her in Hope Wells.

  In those early years, Jack had written to her asking her to come back, telling her he’d missed her and asking if she was happy in the city. But she couldn’t go back then. She was focused on her career. She loved design. She loved earning a living doing what she was meant to do. There were no such opportunities like that in Hope Wells. As much as she’d loved Jack, she needed to find herself, so she’d stopped writing him back. Stopped dreaming of him at night. Stopped longing for what was never to be.

  Now, her eyes were on Jack as he peered out into the crowd. She knew him so well. She knew he hated all this attention, being in the limelight in front of a large gathering. Right now, he’d rather be anywhere else but here. But honorable Jack Walker wouldn’t deny helping the charities. Maybe he’d see Jillian as a charity case too.

  Jillian sucked in a breath, battling against old wounds and injuries done to her by this town. Maybe her image consultants were wrong. Maybe this wasn’t the answer. Maybe she should pack it all up, and return home to the city.

  A bout of loud tapping startled her. She glanced up to find Monty Walker, Jack’s father pounding a gavel on the podium. The retired sheriff, graying at the temples, looking fierce and soft all at the same time, asked for attention. The older man had aged well and still commanded respect from the people he’d served in Hope Wells.

  All eyes focused up, toward Monty Walker and the event about to take place. Monty introduced all the uniformed men on stage, five in all, with Jack garnering the loudest cheers. He’d always been the popular one, the boy with the bright future, the hero of the town now. It was Jillian’s longtime association with Jack that had spurred this idea from the consultants who sought to save Jillian’s company. They’d finally convinced her, but now, nothing seemed right.

  With a loud rap of the gavel, Monty made the initial call. “Let the auction begin.”

  Jillian’s heart raced. So much was banking on this.

  Jack held a tight smile as the stream of shouted bids began for the Sheriff for a Day, the winner earning the opportunity to ride with Sheriff Jack Walker for one entire day.

  Jillian waited and watched, stepping away from the tree that hid her identity. The bidding had gotten up to three hundred and fifty dollars, a sizable sum for small town pockets, until Jillian noticed who was doing the bidding.

  Single, white, female, came to mind. A stunning, single, white female with a petite perfect body and a lush sheet of ink black hair. Jack made immediate eye contact with the woman and Jillian’s heart hitched. An unfamiliar feeling clawed at her, as her thoughts took a different turn. She didn’t know this woman. What was her relationship to Jack? Did he want her to win the bidding?

  Jillian shook off those thoughts immediately, steering back on track and ignoring any internal warning signs. She’d come back to Hope Wells for one reason, and one reason only. Stepping further into the crowd, Jillian waited until the last possible moment.

  Monty called out, “Going once, going twice—”

  “Two thousand dollars.”

  Jack’s head snapped in her direction, and he pierced her with a hard look that asked what the hell are you up to now? Jillian stared back at him, keeping steady, shoving aside her misgivings as undisguised gasps swirled around her. People moved aside making a wide circle as though she were a freak in a sideshow.

  Then applause broke out, slowly at first and then a full out round that thundered in the field. Monty squinted into the sun, narrowing his eyes until he finally recognized her. “Is that you, Jillian Lane? Well, doggone it, girl. You come up here on stage this very second.”

  Jillian moved forward, removing her hat and sunglasses. As her hair blew free, she smiled at Monty and climbed the steps heading for the podium. She walked past Jack standing next to the other deputies ignoring his long, questioning stare and put out a hand to Monty for a shake. The retired lawman grabbed her hand and tugged, drawing her to his chest in bear-like hug. To all it must have appeared a welcome reunion.

  “What the hell is going on now, Jillie?” Monty whispered into her ear.

  Thankfully, Monty’s gruff tone was tempered with sincere concern. Jillian had never known exactly where she’d stood with Jack’s father, but he’d always read her right. He knew her generous donation had strings.

  Lord, she wished it wasn’t the case.

  “I need help, Monty. I’ll explain later.”

  Monty pulled away enough to look into her eyes. A shaky smile emerged as she met his stare. He’d listen to what she had to say. Later, when the time was right. Monty Walker wasn’t an easy man, but he’d gained a reputation through the years for being fair. Jillian banked on that, hoping he wouldn’t tar and feather her before running her out of town.

  After a brisk nod, he returned his attention to the audience. “This young lady has won the bid at… two thousand dollars.” Monty glanced once more at her to confirm that he’d heard right. Jillian nodded. “Some of you might remember Jillian, a one-time resident of Hope Wells. She’s made quite a success of herself in Los Angeles and well, heck, how many stores do you own now, Jillie?”

  Heat crawled up her neck. Normally, she loved talking about her shops and never minded the attention.

  Except, she sensed Jack glaring at her from behind, his displeasure coming through loud and clear. “Nineteen and I’m hoping to reach number twenty soon. Right here in Hope Wells.”

  The crowd was silent f
or a time then partial applause broke out. Jillian smiled tentatively, wondering if the townsfolk would welcome a trendsetting lingerie establishment set in the heart of Main Street. She took a tentative step away from the podium.

  Monty grabbed hold of her arm gently, refusing to let her go. “Well, how do you like that, folks, one of those fancy girlie shops right here in town?” Monty continued on as if she’d simply stated she’d had eggs for breakfast. “Your generous bid will help a lot of people in this town. And you’ll be sheriff for a day.”

  Her smile wobbled.

  “Jack, you come on over here, son,” Monty said. “And shake this girl’s hand.”

  Jillian found herself sandwiched between the two lawmen, the younger, equally handsome one wearing a fierce expression. Jack’s grip was firm on her hand but so exquisitely gentle, his heart-stopping touch made her squirm with guilt. She reminded herself some good would certainly come from her appearance back in town. She’d made a sizable donation for hospital and school charities, as well as bringing enterprise and jobs to the town when her shop opened.

  Local newspapermen shouted questions as cameras snapped pictures of the threesome, Jack and Monty and Jillian. Monty faced the cameras with a wide grin, but Jack stood rigid, his body tense and taut. He refused to crack a smile. She needed to explain her situation to Jack and hope he would help her and, more importantly, she hoped he would forgive her for what she had to ask of him. She’d come here today for the positive publicity. She needed the good vibes.

  And twenty minutes later, after giving an interview to the local reporters covering the event, Jillian fell onto a bench, mentally exhausted. She sipped from a water bottle and closed her eyes.

  The bench creaked but the familiar voice didn’t startle her. She’d expected Jack to seek her out. “You weren’t kidding about the cameras, Jillian. Are you always being photographed?”

  Jillian smiled despite Jack’s dubious tone. “Only when I make news.”

  “This is hardly the news you’re used to. Small-town stuff. Why’d you come, Jillian? The truth.”