by Day Leclaire
“Would you stop that?” she ordered in a furious undertone. “You’re giving them the wrong idea and they’re upset enough. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted them to...” Her eyes narrowed.
“Believe I was busy ruining you?” He tucked her up in his arms good and proper. “We have the perfect opportunity. We even have witnesses. What do you say? Shall we get down to business?”
“Miss Annie? Are you still there?”
Barely. “Yes, Ben. I’m here.”
“Have you found the knob?”
“I’m still looking for it.” She lowered her voice. “Let go, Sam. You’ve had your fun. Now let’s leave before things get serious.”
His expression turned wry. “Too late. They got serious a long time ago. Besides, I still have that small oversight to correct, remember? You wouldn’t want me to be accused of lying on top of everything else, would you?”
“What oversight is that?” she asked. As if she didn’t know! Telling the three men they’d been in here kissing was the spark that had set the sheriffs temper on fire in the first place.
“This one....”
He urged her closer, eliminating the few scant inches separating them. Lowering his head, he sealed her mouth with his. She really should protest. But somehow she couldn’t quite gather the wherewithal. Why did he keep doing this? And why did she keep responding like a woman desperate for his taste? Perhaps because she was. Perhaps because seven years had starved her, left her with a hankering so deep and so powerful that it would take a lifetime to satisfy.
His hands slipped into her hair, lifting the weight away from the nape of her neck. He wound the curls between his fingers, anchoring her firmly against him. Not that she was going anywhere. Everything she’d ever wanted or ever could want she’d find there in his arms, with his lips consuming hers.
With a rumble of pleasure, his mouth slipped from hers to follow the line of her jaw. Her groan stirred the air between them. “Just give me a second,” she pleaded. “Just one more—oh, yes, Sam, right there—second and then I’ll make you stop.”
His hands crept upward, drifting dangerously close to her breasts. “Take all the time you need, sweetheart. I’m in no hurry. But whatever you do, stop me quietly or prepare to dodge flying lead.”
Her lashes fluttered downward and she shifted ever so slightly to the left, just enough so his hand would collide with its goal. “Lead?”
“Bullet lead. I don’t trust our sheriff to behave himself with a loaded weapon.” He busied himself feathering kisses along her neckline. “Now that I think about it, I’m beginning to suspect good ol’ Rolly’s a few bullets short of a full clip.”
Annie’s lips parted to reply, but somehow the words got lost in her sigh of pleasure. She fought to regain her sanity—an easy enough task. Or it would have been if Sam hadn’t scattered the bits and pieces of her reason to the four winds. Or if he hadn’t skated his mouth in the general direction of where his hands were working their wicked magic. The scrape of his teeth elicited a muffled shriek. There, there, right damned there! begged the part of her intent on destruction. But some truly rotten part of her—the part determined to retain her saintly halo, no doubt—protested. “Don’t,” she choked out.
Sam’s black Beaumont eyes beckoned her toward the sweetest of dooms. “Don’t stop?” he asked hopefully.
“Don’t stop. No. Yes.”
He grinned. “Got it. Always happy to oblige a lady.”
Rolly hammered on the door. At least she assumed it was Sheriff Rawling. None of the others had hands large enough to cause such a commotion. “Annie Delacorte? What the hell’s going on in there, girl?”
Her ruination, she was tempted to say. But to admit as much would only bring out guns and bullets and cause more harm than she could bear. “No more, Sam.” Please, no more! “Our company’s getting impatient.”
“Tough. They weren’t invited to this particular party, so they can stay where they are until we’re done.”
She tried to muffle her laugh, with only limited success. “I’m serious, Sam. You have to stop now.” She eased back, feeling the painful tug of her hair still tight within his grasp.
The swift intake of her breath must have alerted him. With a touch so gentle it threatened to bring tears to her eyes, Sam untangled his fingers from her curls. Bending, he picked up the knob from the floor and silently handed it over.
“I found it,” she announced, praying the door would muffle the emotions rippling through her voice.
“That a girl, Annie. Come on over to the door and slip it into the hole.”
“She’s not going anywhere, Sheriff. Not until you lose that gun.”
“Now, Sam. I’m not planning to shoot Annie.” There was a significant pause before he added cheerfully, “Just you.”
Annie folded her arms across her chest and glared at the door—a decidedly futile gesture since they couldn’t witness her annoyance. “In that case, I’m not coming out,” she announced in a voice her kindergartners would recognize. It was the “behave or else” tone that never failed to have them scrambling for their seats.
“Aw, Annie. I was just funnin’ with the boy.”
“I want your promise, Sheriff Rawling, that you’re not going to lay a single finger on Sam. No fists, no arrests, no guns, and especially no bullets.”
He heaved a sigh that could only be read as disappointment. “Fine, fine. I promise. I’m taking off my gun belt. Hear? You can look through the hole and see I’ve set it on the floor.”
Kneeling, she checked to confirm she wouldn’t have to do something foolishly noble, like fling herself in front of a bullet intended for Sam. Reassured the sheriff had done as he said, she slipped the knob into the hole, holding it steady. “Okay, my end’s in.” A moment later, she felt the knob jiggle and slowly turn.
“Stand clear,” the mayor warned.
An instant later, a shoulder impacted the door and it flew open. The sheriff was the first to tumble into the room. Ben and the mayor followed close behind.
“Annie! Are you all right?” Ben asked anxiously.
She reassured him with a smile. “I’m just fine, thanks. Shall we go?”
Mayor Pike ambled over to the bed and stared down at it with a frown. Then he eyed Annie with equal care—particularly her dress, which she suspected was in as serious disarray as the bed. Oops. Glancing at his companions, Pike jerked his head toward the rumpled bedcovers before addressing Annie. “You run along now, my dear. We want to talk to Beaumont in private.”
“This isn’t the best place to conduct a conversation,” Sam observed mildly.
Just great. Four pit bulls all kenneled in one room. What were the odds of everyone getting out in one piece? “Since I came with Sam, I’m afraid I’ll have to wait until he’s ready to leave.” She crossed to the rickety chair. Holding her breath and offering up a quick prayer, she carefully sat. It held, allowing her to maintain her regal posture instead of flailing around on the floor. “Anything you have to discuss with Sam, you can say in front of me.”
“Gentlemen?” Sam spoke up once more. “I strongly recommend we take this discussion outside.”
“So you’ll have the chance to jump on that bike of yours and take off?” Rolly argued. “That’s not gonna happen, son.”
“No. I was more concerned about—”
An earsplitting bang sounded behind them, followed by a familiar clang as a pair of knobs hit the floor.
“—the door slamming closed again.”
Annie uttered a most unladylike word, not caring in the least that she was the focus of three scandalized gazes plus Sam’s highly amused one. “That tears it,” she said to no one in particular.
“Now, Miss Annie,” Ben attempted to placate, “let’s not get your druthers in an uproar.”
“Too late. My druthers are already in an uproar.” Of course, some of that might be due to Sam-of-the-magicalfingers, but the town’s leading citizens didn’t really need
to know that. “How do you intend to get us out of this mess?” she demanded.
“Well, now. I’m sure someone will venture by before too long,” the sheriff offered. “Eventually, Bertie will figure out I’ve gone missing.”
Sam made himself comfortable on the bed again. “Why don’t you radio him?”
The sheriff reached for his belt, then realized where he’d left it. He cursed roundly before breaking off and shooting Annie a sheepish glance. “Beg your pardon, Miss Annie.”
“I think she’s heard the words before,” Sam offered, folding his arms behind his head. “Hell, I believe she’s even said a few. Right here in this very room, if I’m not mistaken.”
Perhaps a good scolding was in order. With luck, it would deflect attention from her small lapse in manners. “If you three had listened to Sam instead of bursting in here like the Three Musketeers—” For some reason, that elicited a blush from the men in question. “—we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ben agreed. “It’s just Sam there...and the bed...” His blush deepened. “And your dress.”
She gave the four men her iciest look. “I see. Well, there’s a perfectly good explanation for all that.” Seeing their fascinated expressions, she decided this might be a good time to execute a graceful exit. “Not that any of you deserve an explanation. Instead, I’ll do what you four have failed to do and get us out of here.”
Sam sat up abruptly. “Annie—”
“And this time no one better stop me.”
Sam was off the bed in a flash. But he was too late. Hoping her poor, underused muscles could still execute the ballet lessons she’d endured a full score of years earlier, Annie leaped with all the elegance of a hamstrung gazelle straight out the window.
“I don’t know what you were thinking,” Aunt Myrtle fussed, dabbing antiseptic with a liberal hand. “You could have broken something.”
Annie grimaced. “It’s just a few scratches.” Or maybe a few dozen. All of which were profusely leaking icky red stuff. Not that she bothered to examine them too closely. Giving her injuries that much attention might cause her to do something silly. Like faint. Who would have thought all those bitty twigs could do so much damage? Well, other than Sam, that was.
“You should have guessed that oak wouldn’t support your weight,” Myrtle said, resuming her chiding.
“I did warn her,” Sam offered.
“I’m sure you did. You always were a good boy.”
He all but smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”
Annie gave her annoyance free rein, hoping it would provide a distraction from her various cuts and bruises. “Going out the window was the only way to rescue everyone from the bedroom. If I hadn’t climbed down the tree—”
“Fallen out of the tree,” Sam corrected.
“Gotten down. The rest of you would still be battling it out in the bedroom.”
“What were you doing in Sam’s bedroom in the first place?” Myrtle asked, shifting her attention from Annie’s arm to her bruised knee. More of the reddish-orange medicine polka-dotted her skin. She just ought to bathe in the stuff. It would be simpler.
Sam nodded sagely. “Ah...the million-dollar question. She was up to no good, I’ll bet.”
“You should know!” Annie retorted indignantly. “You were there, too.”
“Exactly. Up to no good.”
“Don’t listen to him, Aunt Myrtle.” She tried hard not to wince, refusing to give Sam the satisfaction. “I was showing him all the damage to Soundings when the door blew shut and the knob fell out.”
“That’s our story, Myrtle, and we’re sticking to it.” Sam gave Annie a teasing wink. “Right, sweetheart?”
“Oh, stop it. People might think you’re serious.”
“People won’t think I’m serious. They’ll know I am.” He tilted his head to one side. “Odd, isn’t it? I’ll bet this will be the first time anyone’s ever doubted your word. They’ll all suspect you’re covering up what really happened in that bedroom for fear of destroying your unblemished reputation. Maybe we should take down your sign. That would really give them something to talk about.”
If she could have reached him, she’d have boxed his ears. “What happened is...nothing happened,” she explained for Myrtle’s benefit.
Sam shook his head. “Shame on you, Miss Annie. You know full well that’s not the complete truth. Aren’t you skipping a detail or two?”
Of course she was skipping a detail or two! “No, I’m not,” she lied without compunction. “Right after the door slammed closed, Ben and Sheriff Rolly and Mayor Pike came riding up the drive to my rescue as if they were the Three Musketeers or something.” Sam and Aunt Myrtle began to laugh and she looked from one to the other in bewilderment. “What? What did I say?”
“It’s your reference to them as the Three Musketeers,” Myrtle explained. “That’s what the boys call themselves.”
It was strange to hear the town’s leading citizens described as “boys”. Funnier still to hear they called themselves Musketeers. “You’re kidding, right?”
Myrtle struggled to keep a straight face, finally giving it up as a lost cause. “They don’t realize anyone knows, but of course everyone does. We just pretend not to so we don’t embarrass the poor boys.” She gave a genteel snort. “But I mean, really. What are we supposed to think when they run around shouting ‘One for all and all for one’?”
Annie stared, fascinated. “They do? Are you serious?”
“Well,” Myrtle admitted with a mischievous grin, “perhaps they don’t shout it. It’s just whenever they come up with some harebrained scheme, that’s what they’ll say to signify agreement. Then off they go, stirring up a fine mess, all in the name of honor or some such.”
Annie frowned. “Now you’ve made me curious. What do you suppose they were doing at Soundings?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Sam asked. “Rescuing you.”
“Yes, but...how did they know we were in trouble?”
Myrtle chuckled. “They’re Musketeers. No doubt they have special senses that alert them when trouble is at hand.”
Sam’s good humor faded. “They don’t need to go looking for trouble. It’ll find them soon enough. In fact, I’ll see to it personally.”
“Don’t start that again,” Annie said. “They were trying to help.”
“No, they were trying to shoot me.”
“Only Sheriff Rawling. Ben Drake and Mayor Pike were being very understanding.”
“So understanding they got us trapped in the room again. If the mayor hadn’t been intent on giving me a dressing-down and Rolly determined to start a brawl, the door wouldn’t have blown shut a second time and put us back in our initial predicament.”
“Men can be very silly,” Myrtle observed. “But at least everyone is all right.”
“Only because I rescued them,” Annie muttered. “If I’d been smart, I’d have left them there a spell and come back in a few days to clean up the pieces that remained.”
“It would have spared you some gossip,” Sam agreed.
Annie looked up in alarm. “What gossip?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“I haven’t been to Drake’s Supermarket since we left Soundings.” This couldn’t be good. Not coming on the heels of the last bit of gossip making the rounds. “What are they saying?”
“Everyone’s talking about how you threw yourself out the window to save yourself from a fate worse than death.” He shook his head in disgust. “Saint Annie’s legend lives on.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Shut up? You can do worse than that. I know you can.” He grinned. “And so do Rolly, Ben and Mayor Pike.”
“Somehow I doubt they’re going to tell on me,” Annie said morosely.
“True enough. Even if they did, I doubt anyone would believe them. Not now.”
“This is ridiculous.” She winced as Myrtle dug out another splinter. “How did you survive it all those years?
” she asked the older woman.
“How did I survive what?”
“Sainthood.”
“Ah, but I was just Aunt Myrtle. Never a saint.”
“But you could do no wrong, either. Didn’t that worry you? Didn’t you ever wonder what would happen once people realized you were just human?” Once the town had discovered how “human” Sam’s mother had been, she’d been ostracized, a fact that had had a profound effect on her son, especially since he’d paid the ultimate price for his mother’s “sins.”
“I am just human and everyone does know it.”
“But you’re so good. So kind. What if people woke up one day and decided you weren’t good and kind anymore?”
Myrtle’s dark eyes glittered with laughter. “Silly girl. It wouldn’t change who I am. It would only change what others thought of me. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“What’s this all about, Annie?” Sam asked abruptly.
“Nothing,” she said with a shrug. “Tired of being Saint Annie, I guess.”
“I keep telling you. Next time, don’t throw yourself out the window to escape my evil clutches. Maybe then you’ll be that wicked Delacorte girl. Would you like that better?”
Yes! “I just don’t want to disappoint people.” Which they would be when they found out the truth. But she couldn’t very well tell Sam that. Although chances were he’d discover it on his own soon enough.
Sam slipped into Myrtle’s house, taking extra care to keep his passage through the darkened rooms as silent as possible. It was well past midnight and he knew the two women would have turned in hours ago. He’d have, too, if it hadn’t been for a small business matter he’d needed to rectify. He’d been surprised as hell when the Musketeers had shown up at his place to “rescue” Annie. It seemed they hadn’t been as intimidated by his threats as he’d assumed. His mouth tilted to one side. He hadn’t counted on the fact that they were three decent, well-meaning men who felt genuine love and concern for the town “saint”.
Not that he could blame them. He had pretty strong feelings for her, as well.
But it still left an intriguing puzzle, one he intended to solve. When he’d asked them how they’d known he and Annie were alone at Soundings, they’d become annoyingly closedmouthed. Apparently, their code of honor required that they protect their source as well as Annie. Not that it mattered. He’d have plenty of opportunities to accomplish his goal in the next several weeks. Just as he’d have plenty of time to settle old scores.
