Sheriff Takes a Bride (Silhouette Romance)

by Kaye, Gayle

  “Thanks, Hallie,” he said softly. “Maybe...maybe some day I’ll do just that.”

  Then he leaned close and kissed her and those lightning bolts turned into a Fourth of July celebration. The heat of his lips claimed her attention, her sanity too, and she felt herself succumbing.

  His tongue traced the softness of her lower lip, slowly, maddeningly, then demanded entrance. She parted her mouth and her tongue brushed his, dueling in a slow dance. She wasn’t sure she could breathe or that she wanted to take the time to do so. She wanted only to feel, savor, enjoy.

  How could just kissing a woman tear him up inside? Cam mused. But this wasn’t just any woman, it was Hallie—and he’d fantasized about this moment since the last time he’d kissed her.

  He didn’t care that there were people nearby. It was getting late in the evening and couples were pairing off. It was time to stake your claim to the woman you wanted—and maybe in his own way Cam was doing that with Hallie. At least he knew he wanted her.

  He also knew he shouldn’t.

  But those lips, that mouth, were so soft, so inviting. He drew her against him, just for a moment, wanting even more from her. He wanted to haul her off where they could be alone, totally alone, and sample the other soft parts of her. He wanted to make love to her.

  Then he heard the voice from hell.

  “Cam Osborne, I warned you about touching my Hallie.”

  The evening had come to an end—in the way he’d feared.

  He and Hallie sprang to their feet, and out of each other’s arms, both apologetic, trying to put a good face on something that was nothing but obvious—and the old lady wasn’t buying it, not for a hot minute.

  The best thing Cam could say about the moment was that the old gal’s shotgun was locked up tight as a drum. And it was a good thing, too, because she looked none too happy.

  “I’d suggest you quit searchin’ for this girl’s tonsils, Sheriff, and...and go arrest someone.”

  Cam had just someone in mind, but in Pearl’s present state of ire he didn’t want to tangle with trouble. Besides, she hadn’t done anything but warn him about something he should have had the good sense to see for himself.

  “Look, Pearl, don’t blame Hallie for this. It was my fault entirely. She just looked too damned pretty in the moonlight and...and I, uh, forgot about keeping hands off.” There—he hoped he’d cleared Hallie, and that the old harpy wouldn’t give her a hard time all the way home.

  Hallie glanced up at him. “I can handle Granny myself,” she said, “but thanks, Cam.” Then she turned to her grandmother. “Come on, Granny Pearl, let’s get you home and into bed. You’ve had a big day.”

  Cam watched them go.

  Then kicked himself all the way back to the jail.

  Hallie took out the small slip of paper with the recipe on it, written in Granny’s own hand, and considered it thoroughly. She had to get her mind off Cam and back onto setting things right between her grandmother and the law.

  This one tiny piece of incriminating paper spelled trouble for the old girl, Hallie knew. And if it fell into the sheriffs hands Hallie would be in hot water, as well.

  They needed a lawyer.

  And today was the day to approach Granny with that fact.

  In the past three days since the jamboree the woman had calmed down considerably. Almost, almost , forgetting the...dalliance she’d caught Hallie and Cam indulging in.

  Not that Hallie had put it too far from her own thoughts. But she was determined to stick to business—and that business at the moment was getting legal help for Granny.

  She’d phoned Cam this morning—strictly a professional call—and had gotten the names of two excellent attorneys in the area. One was over in Eureka Springs, the other a little farther afield.

  Now all she had to do was convince her grandmother it would be the wise thing to do to see one of them.

  Cam had wished her good luck in getting Pearl to go. His tone had a hint of a chuckle buried in it, but she knew he meant it when he said he hoped all would go well. There was always just the slightest catch in his voice when he spoke from the heart.

  But she didn’t need to be thinking about Cam, that catch in his voice, or the way the man had kissed her.

  “Granny Pearl,” she called out to her as the woman entered the cabin after feeding her goats their morning snack. “We need to talk.”

  Granny set her pan down with a clatter. “If this is any more of your nonsense about my de-fense, girl, you can just forget it,” she snapped.

  Hallie ignored the remark and proceeded on. “I have the names of two good attorneys in the area. You can have your pick of them, but there’ll be no argument about going. To-day,” she added.

  “Now, just you listen here, Hallie Cates, I don’t need no highfalutin lawyer. I ain’t afraid of the judge. I done powdered that man’s bottom before he was growed,” she snorted.

  And she wasn’t above reminding the poor man of it in his own courtroom, Hallie was sure.

  “Granny Pearl, somehow, some way, we’re going to get this whole mess cleared up, and when we do you’re going back to Fort Worth with me where I can keep a closer eye on you.”

  “When pigs fly, girl.”

  Perhaps Hallie hadn’t broached the subject correctly. She tried again, using a bit more finesse to her tone.

  When that didn’t work she tried cajoling the old woman. That brought only a glower and a suggestion that Hallie could just pack up her bags and go.

  Hallie was sorely tempted, but she was in this to the bitter end.

  She decided the better part of valor would be to abandon the topic for the present. Along with the idea of a lawyer to represent Granny.

  The old gal was stubborn.

  And when she got her dander up Hallie might as well retreat.

  She did.

  She took a walk, just to think. And to smell the dogwood.

  It didn’t take long before she began to feel the peace of the place, the redbud trees blooming in profusion around her, the birds chirping their merry songs, the squirrels scampering in the brush alongside her, the warm sun overhead.

  The countryside was lovely, she had to admit, as she paced tranquilly along the dusty road that ran past Granny’s property. And she knew Granny would miss all this terribly if Hallie took her back to Fort Worth to live.

  She could understand the woman’s reluctance to leave here, leave her roots, her home, her two cute little goats, but Hallie worried about her, too, living here all alone.

  She should be with family in her declining years—and Hallie was the only family she had.

  This place boasted no nearby medical facility, no doctor closer than a winding, thirty-mile drive away over dangerous roads.

  Her grandmother needed someone to see she ate properly, got her rest and ample exercise. And that she stayed out of mischief.

  Her thoughts had carried her farther than she realized, and suddenly she glanced around, not certain where she was. The afternoon had warmed up considerably, and she was beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

  Heavens, she’d worried about Granny, when perhaps she should have been paying a little attention to herself.

  How many turns had she made? The roads in this area ran in no sensible direction, but meandered, pleasantly sometimes, here and there.

  When had she seen the last house? The last weathered road sign? Not even a car or truck had rattled past—which was not unusual around here.

  Hallie glanced about, looking for something, anything, even remotely familiar. She longed for a tall, very cold drink of water—and a road map.

  In lieu of either, she settled for a patch of shade, courtesy of an old, leafy oak tree beside the road. She’d rest there for a while, then try to retrace her path.

  But she knew the wrong turn could carry her farther out of her way. Granny would begin to worry, and she didn’t want her to be upset.

  A short while later Hallie was certain her guardian angel wa
s looking out after her. Off in the distance, heading in her direction, was one very dusty sheriff’s car.

  And unless she’d wandered into the next county, that sheriff had to be Cam.

  Chapter Seven

  It had been quiet around the sheriff’s office today—too quiet—so Cam had lit out of there. All he’d had to think about had been Hallie and the way her lithe body had felt against him the other night, the way she’d kissed him back, allowing his not-so-gentle invasion of her sweet mouth. Giving as good as she got, as he remembered.

  The woman had one helluva lot of passion bottled up inside her, just waiting for some guy to release it—and damned if he didn’t want to be that guy. But that, he knew, would get him into trouble.

  Of the variety he didn’t need.

  Besides, he’d promised himself no entanglements—and that was a promise he intended to keep.

  Despite Hallie.

  Despite his ornery hormones.

  To save his sanity he’d piled his fishing gear into the sheriff’s car and stole away for an afternoon of fishing. He’d felt only moderately guilty about abandoning the office. There hadn’t exactly been a crime spree going on around the little town, so he’d figured he’d hardly be missed.

  And besides, if he’d sat around the place all day, twiddling his idle thumbs, his thoughts, and his wants, would turn to Hallie.

  Now he was headed back. He would lock up the jail and set off for home for a nice quiet little fish fry and a cold bottle of beer or two. He’d kick back and—

  What the hell!

  Cam stomped on the brake and took a closer look at the woman standing in the middle of the road, waving her arms at him to stop. Unless he missed his guess the woman was Hallie—looking a bit fatigued, a bit dusty, but tantalizing, nonetheless.

  Trouble, with a capital T, some sentient part of his brain allowed. But his hormones bucked, his breath caught, and a soft simile melted onto his lips.

  Wherever, whenever, he couldn’t deny he liked seeing her.

  He drew to a stop beside her, rolled down the car window, and tried to look stern. “What the hell are you doing out here, miles from Pearl’s place?”

  Hallie let the air-conditioning from inside the patrol car cool her hot face and prayed Cam had something cold to drink with him. Anything.

  She didn’t even notice his cranky reminder that she’d wandered farther .afield than she’d intended. The shot of cool air just felt too good, and she was too overheated to allow her temper to flare.

  “Can I hitch a ride with you back to Granny’s?” she asked. “I’m hot, tired, thirty—and not at all in a good mood right now.”

  There, that should warn him to just back off with the lecture.

  He looked so darned put together, while she must look a wretch. Relaxed, calm, cool, and unthirsty. He also looked handsome—but at the moment she wasn’t sure she had the energy to properly appreciate that

  Later. Later she would remember how much like her knight in shining armor he seemed, riding to her rescue on his white steed—well, patrol car, anyway.

  Same thing. Almost.

  She didn’t wait for his answer but swung around to the other side and slipped into the seat beside him. Between them was a powerful-looking rifle in a stand, on the dash a police radio with a myriad of buttons, but all Hallie saw were the air vents, which she quickly aimed in her direction.

  “What brought you out here—if I might ask without riling your mood further?” he quizzed her.

  “I took a walk.”

  He only gave her a look, an amused, knowing look.

  “Okay—I took one turn too many and got lost.”

  She waited for his laugh, but it didn’t come. Instead he reached behind the seat and flipped up the lid on his battered old cooler, rummaged inside for a moment, then handed her an icy, wet can of orange soda.

  Hallie fell on it with one swift grab, then, before she popped the top, gave a cautionary glance back at the cooler. “You don’t keep the smelly fish you catch in there, do you?”

  If he said yes, Hallie wasn’t sure she’d refuse the soda. She was just too thirsty.

  And hot.

  Fortunately, he shook his head. “The ‘smelly’ fish are in the trunk. In fact, I was thinking about grilling them tonight, maybe enjoy a cold beer with them.” He smiled over at her, and the lines at the edges of his eyes crinkled in his sun-darkened face. How long had he spent on a creek bank? “I, uh, wondered if you’d care to join me? I’m pretty good with a barbecue grill.”

  Maybe it was the thought of the cold beer, but Hallie was tempted to say yes. She could think of a million reasons she should refuse the invitation—the least of which was Granny’s objection to her keeping company with this man; the most significant, her wayward attraction to him.

  Then she remembered that Granny was busy tonight—her quilting group again. Hallie would be on her own for dinner. And why cook when she could get a free meal?

  Cam waited for her answer. She took a long swallow of the orange drink, enjoying the iciness of the cold can, and the way the pop quenched her dusty throat.

  She lowered her drink and considered the offer. “Do I have to clean the fish?”

  Cam laughed, a hearty...sexy laugh. “Only if you want to. I’d never ask a woman to do that—especially a city woman.”

  Did he have to remind her she was a city woman? But she loved his gallantry about men doing the fish cleaning.

  “Then I accept.”

  He smiled—as if he were glad she had—then put the car in gear and set off toward Granny’s at a leisurely pace. After a few miles, he made a turn, and things began to look familiar again.

  “I’m not sure how I managed to get so lost, but I do remember coming by here. There’s the old school up that drive,” she said. “I passed it earlier and noticed it had been boarded up.”

  Hallie was certain it wasn’t just for the summer. It had a look of permanent abandonment, as if it hadn’t been used in some time. Granny hadn’t mentioned its closing in any of her letters—and she’d intended to ask her about it when she got back from her walk.

  Walk. If Cam hadn’t come along when he had, she’d probably have gone around in circles for some time on these twisted roads. She knew her landmarks, of course, but somehow she’d lost sight of them, her musings about Granny—and Cam—leading her heaven only knew where.

  “The old place closed the year before last.” Cam said. “The students now attend another school some distance away. Those who didn’t drop out, that is,” he added.

  “Drop out?”

  Cam grimaced. “Yeah—some of the kids can’t spare the extra travel time because they’re needed at home—or so their parents feel. It’s a fact of life for the families around here, everyone is expected to pitch in with the chores, help make the ends meet.”

  “But, Cam, that’s terrible. Isn’t there some way?”

  “To keep them in school?” He sighed deeply. “I talk to the kids—and to the parents—try to tell them how important it is to get a solid education, but sometimes it’s just not possible. For some around here, it takes every family member to keep body and soul together.” He turned to gaze at her. “I’m sure you have a dropout rate in Fort Worth. From drugs, poverty—the things that tear up a kid’s life.”

  Cam cared. Hallie heard it in his voice. He’d no doubt seen much back in Chicago that tore at him. They weren’t immune to drugs or poverty back in Fort Worth either, but a cop saw so much more of life—the raw, the dangerous, the ugly side of it. Was that what had jaded Cam?

  Or was it something more personal?

  Something closer to his soul?

  She wished she could ask him about it.

  “I’m sorry to hear the school closed down,” she said instead. “It was always the lifeblood of this little town.”

  “It was,” Cam agreed.

  Just then Pearl’s place came into view. Cam turned into the long drive and hoped the old tyrant wasn’t looking
out through those curtained windows to see him arrive with her granddaughter in tow.

  Hard telling what she’d be thinking he was up to with her now.

  “Uh, maybe I shouldn’t go much farther,” he said. “I don’t want to provoke the old girl.”

  Hallie grinned. “Yeah, well, I thought I’d play it safe, too, and avoid mentioning where I was having dinner tonight.” She reached for the door handle. “Oh, Cam, can I bring something tonight?”

  Only herself, Cam thought. “Not a thing,” he said and wondered what kind of trouble he’d stirred up for himself by inviting Hallie to his place.

  She was everything he’d once wanted in a woman.

  And everything he shouldn’t have.

  Hallie had ignored Cam’s answer that she not bring anything to the fish fry. She’d never been a guest who showed up empty-handed for a party.

  She arrived at his place with a few fresh-made biscuits of Granny’s and a jar of her special jam that she smuggled out of the old girl’s pantry, feeling only slightly guilty that she was carrying it to the enemy camp.

  She’d found Cam’s house easily enough, following the directions he’d given her—but when she saw him she wasn’t so sure she should have come.

  He’d scrapped his uniform in favor of a comfortable-looking pair of shorts and a white polo shirt that showed off his tan to perfection.

  His legs were strong and sinewy, with a fine smattering of silky dark hair covering them that glistened in the setting sunlight. His sensual brown eyes searched hers through thick dark lashes, and a tempting smile teased at the corners of his sexy mouth.

  Perhaps it wasn’t too late to take a rain check on dinner, she thought with a hard swallow.

  She moistened her lips and wondered if he’d buy that—then realized she’d seem rude. Besides, he probably wouldn’t allow her to retreat.

  And she didn’t really want to retreat.

  “I, uh, brought some biscuits,” she said, holding them out as if they were a peace offering.

  He smiled. “I told you it wasn’t necessary—but I’d be crazy to turn down some of Granny’s baking.” He paused before taking them. “She didn’t, uh, spike these with a little arsenic, did she?”