Georgie sighed. Nick was going out of his way to protect her and her daughter when he clearly didn’t have to. That meant she owed him. So, if he asked a question, the least she could do was answer it.
Forcing herself to relax, she said, “Yes, he did. Jason Prentiss.” She gave him Emmie’s father’s name before Nick could ask. “I actually thought that what happened between us would last forever.” God, had she ever been that naive? “Instead, it barely lasted the summer.”
“Does he know?” Nick asked. When Georgie looked at him quizzically, he elaborated, “That Emmie is his?”
“He knows there’s a child,” she replied with a vague shrug. “But as to sex or name, he didn’t want to get ‘that involved.’” She was quoting what Jason had said to her the evening she confessed that she was pregnant. “He wanted me to have an abortion. When I refused to sweep the baby out of my life, Jason quickly swept himself out of mine.”
She paused for a moment before continuing. It had been a long while since she’d given Jason much thought. She’d had too much living to do to waste a moment thinking about the man she no longer loved, perhaps had never really loved.
“I don’t know where he is these days and I really don’t care. Looking back, he wasn’t all that special.” She was smarter now and could see through shallow posers like Jason. “But he did leave me with something wonderful, so I can’t bring myself to hate him. Without Jason, I never would have gotten Emmie in my life.” Her face was passionately animated as she said, “I can’t begin to tell you what that little girl means to me.”
“I think I can guess.”
She grinned and laughed softly at herself. “That obvious, huh?” she asked, threading her fingers through her loose hair. As he watched, it seemed to him to shimmer like firelight.
“Only if you’re conscious.”
Nick studied her for a moment, thinking about the effect she’d had on him in such a very short time. He’d crossed lines because of her, stepped out of the boundaries that defined who and what he was. Moreover, he’d felt things he’d never felt before because of her. Things he didn’t readily want to stop feeling anytime soon.
But he would have to, he reminded himself. Unless…
“Did you ever think about pulling up stakes, moving away?” he asked quietly, watching Georgie’s face for her reaction.
Her goal had always involved coming back here, amassing enough money to stay put and find a way to make a comfortable living in Esperanza.
“Where would I go?” She’d never even considered living anywhere else on a permanent basis. “This is home,” she insisted. “I was born here. This has always been my home. This is where I belong.” There’d never been any question of that in her mind. “Where would I go?” she repeated.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Yes he did, he knew exactly where he wanted her to go. “Washington.”
“The state?” Why in heaven’s name would she want to go live there? If anything, Montana or Wyoming would have been more in keeping with her way of life, not Washington.
“The city,” he corrected. “D.C.”
That would have been even stranger than the state. She certainly didn’t belong back east. “I don’t—”
He cut her off before she could say no. He wanted her to understand why he was asking. Wanted her to consider her answer before she gave it.
“If the Senator wins the election—” Nick was fairly certain that the man would win the nomination of his party “—he’s going to D.C. and he’ll need a protective detail with him at all times.”
“And that would be you?” She already knew the answer, but hoped against hope that Nick would tell her something different. She didn’t want a half a continent between them.
“I’d be one of them,” he told her. He saw the look on her face and didn’t have to hear what her response would be to his suggestion about moving to a large city. He already knew.
“I’m a small-town girl, Nick,” she told him. “I always have been. I’d be lost in a place like Washington, D.C.”
He shook his head, even as he slipped his hands about her face and then through her hair, framing her face. “Nothing small town about you, Georgeann Colton.”
“Grady,” she corrected softly. “I tend to think of myself as Georgie Grady. There’s nothing about me that belongs to the Coltons.”
He smiled and a sadness took root within him. “I tend to think of you as vibrant and exciting.”
He saw laughter in her eyes and felt his pulse quicken. “That, too.”
“Go back to bed, Georgie,” he told her, dropping his hands. “Before I forget I’m not supposed to make love with you.”
She had no desire to leave. All too soon, he’d be the one doing the leaving. She wanted to grasp as much happiness as she could in the limited amount of time she had left.
Georgie didn’t get up. Instead, she feathered a kiss along his throat. “I won’t break if you kiss me, Nick. I promise.”
After years of holding himself in check, of controlling his every move, his resolve had frayed and reached its breaking point. He felt his pulse racing as her breath slid along his skin. “You’re going to be my undoing, woman.”
She laughed lightly, deliberately banishing any thoughts of all the tomorrows that loomed ahead of her. Tomorrows when this man would be gone, fulfilling his destiny and living the rest of his life without her. For now, he was here and that was all she was going to focus on. Because the rest of it was too difficult to think about.
“Everybody’s got a job to do,” she murmured, again, kissing his throat.
He needed no more coaxing than that. Lifting her into his arms the way he had the night before, Nick carried her to her bedroom. This time he paused not just to close the door as he had last time, but to lock it as well—just in case Emmie decided to pay her mother another unannounced nocturnal visit.
He made love with Georgie softly, gently, and for half the night, until exhaustion claimed them both and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
On his very first job, Nick had schooled himself to sleep with one eye open. Any noise that was out of place was guaranteed to wake him.
As it did this time.
Instantly alert, he sat up, listening. Someone was trying to turn the doorknob and come in. Was it Emmie? He didn’t think so. She would have called out for her mother when she couldn’t open the door.
Whoever was on the other side of the door released the doorknob and retreated.
Someone was in the house.
Faster than the blink of an eye, Nick was up and pulling on his pants. He zipped them up as he crossed to the door, flipping the lock he’d secured earlier. Nick yanked the door open just in time to see a shadowy figure fleeing to the living room.
Nick broke into a run.
The intruder had too much of a head start on him. Nick barely managed to get within reaching distance. Lunging, he caught the person—a woman he now realized—by the hair.
Without a backward glance, she continued running and made it to the front door.
The forward motion when he grabbed for her hair threw him off balance because, instead of bringing the woman down, Nick found himself holding on to a wig. A red wig. It was fashioned like Georgie’s hair, with a thick, long, red braid.
It was too dark for him to make out any of her features, except that she appeared to be a blonde. His gut told him that the intruder was the woman caught on the tapes from both the bank and the jewelry store.
The lights suddenly came on, robbing the shadows of their space.
But the intruder was gone.
“What’s going on?” Georgie cried, her hand still on the light switch on the wall. At seeing the wig he had in his hand, a sick feeling bubbled in her stomach. She heard herself ask, “What’s that?” as she nodded at his hand.
He looked at it in disgust. “I seem to have scalped your impersonator.”
Georgie felt both violated and mad as hell. It was bad enough to have some
one break in when she was away, but to have an intruder invade her home, her sanctuary while she was sleeping in it, made it so much worse.
“She was here?” Georgie asked hoarsely.
He nodded. “Obviously she didn’t know that you’d gotten back.” Georgie crossed the room and headed straight for the coffee table, where she kept one of the two phones in the house. “What are you doing?” he asked as Georgie picked up the phone receiver and began to dial.
She didn’t answer until she finished dialing. It was the middle of the night, but she knew the call would automatically be transferred to Jericho Yates’s home. Jericho was the county sheriff and someone she’d known for a long time.
“No offense, Nick, but I’d feel a whole lot better if we brought the sheriff in on this.” She saw he was about to protest her decision, but she wasn’t going to be talked out of it. She had her daughter to consider. Georgie’s voice picked up speed. “You can’t stay here indefinitely and watch over us and if anything happened to Emmie because of this crazy woman—”
He wanted to argue with her because he preferred to keep this contained. But his conscience wouldn’t allow it. Georgie was right, he wasn’t going to be here in Esperanza indefinitely. He had a life, a career, waiting for him back in California. And she would go on living here. Georgie deserved to live without fear haunting her every move.
Stepping away, he waved at the phone. “Go ahead. Tell the sheriff to come,” he told her. “Just don’t mention anything about the e-mails.”
The phone was still ringing on the other end. She covered the mouthpiece. “Why not?”
“Because that falls under my jurisdiction,” he reminded her.
She didn’t see how he could separate one issue from the other, but she didn’t protest. She just wanted this impostor, this creature who’d taken her money, her name, her life, caught and punished.
A deep, sleepy voice came on on the other end. “Yates.”
“Sheriff, this is Georgie Grady. Someone just tried to break into my house. Could you please come by first thing in the morning?”
“I’ll do better than that, Georgie,” the sheriff told her. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Chapter 14
True to his word, Sheriff Jericho Yates was standing in her doorway within twenty minutes.
Georgie had had only enough time to throw on clothes. Nick had gotten dressed and then done something on his computer that she hadn’t had time to look at yet, but Nick had looked pleased with the outcome. He was in the process of printing whatever it was he’d come up with when the Sheriff had rung her doorbell. She’d flown to answer it.
Georgie didn’t recognize the man standing next to the sheriff. The latter wore the uniform of a deputy and was a little shorter than Jericho. But then, at six feet three inches most people were a little shorter than Jericho. And, she’d come to know, a hell of a lot more cheerful than the serious thirty-five-year old.
Tall, broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, Jericho Yates was a wall of solid muscle. Wearing his dark blond hair long and some facial stubble, he looked more like Hollywood’s version of an old-fashioned lawman out of the 1800s. But the thing about Jericho was that, despite the fact that he hardly ever smiled and never used twenty words when three would do, he inspired confidence in the people he dealt with and protected. People felt safe when he was around, even though his territory stretched out beyond Esperanza to include the entire county.
Jericho’s hazel eyes swept over her as he nodded a greeting. When his eyes shifted to look at Nick, they hardened just a touch. Strangers were subjected to close scrutiny.
Now, with the house lit up and the sheriff and his deputy, not to mention Nick all standing around her, Georgie felt a little foolish about the momentary attack of anxiety that had caused her to call the sheriff.
“I really didn’t mean for you to come out to the ranch in the middle of the night, Sheriff.”
Jericho’s expression never changed, but she had the definite impression that he was looking right into her head.
“You wouldn’t have called if you didn’t. You would have waited until morning.” Again, his eyes shifted over toward Nick.
The Secret Service agent had never felt himself being dissected and measured so quickly before, even when he’d originally applied for his present position. Leaning forward, one hand on Georgie’s shoulder in an unspoken gesture signifying protection, he extended his hand to the sheriff. “I’m Nick Sheffield.”
The deputy, who clearly was trying to emulate his boss, asked, “You a friend of hers, Nick Sheffield?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Nick said, busy with his own process of measuring and dissecting. The sheriff was coming from a position of confident strength. He got the impression that the deputy had yet to achieve that for himself.
She felt tension in the air, or maybe that was just her. Clearing her throat, Georgie decided to get the introductions out of the way.
“Nick, this is Sheriff Jericho Yates. And—” Her voice trailed off as she realized something. “I’m sorry,” she told the deputy, “I don’t know who you are.”
Maybe it was her, but she felt like there’d been an influx of a great many new faces in Esperanza since she’d left. The town was clearly growing. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she liked being able to recognize everyone she passed on the street until that ability was lost to her.
Jericho came to her rescue. “This is my new deputy, Adam Rawlings.” He was still breaking in the man, but all things considered, Rawlings was coming along nicely. The deputy, he noted out of the corner of his eye, flashed a guileless smile at Georgie and then her “friend.” “Anything missing?” Jericho asked as he walked into the house. He scanned the area and it didn’t look as if anything had been disturbed.
This most recent break-in was the legendary straw that had broken the camel’s back. Words just came pouring out. “The money out of my bank account. My mother’s jewelry. My—”
Jericho stopped her, appearing slightly puzzled as he tried to make sense out of what she’d just said. “You emptied your bank account and then brought the money home?”
Frustrated, Georgie backtracked. “No, she emptied my bank account—and my safety deposit box and she was probably the one who’s responsible for maxing out all of my credit cards.”
Jericho held his hand up. “Slow down, Georgie,” he instructed. When she stopped talking, he asked, “‘She?’”
Georgie’s head bobbed up and down. “The woman who’s passing herself off as me. Right down to the wig.” The second she mentioned the wig, she moved over to the coffee table where Nick had deposited the disguise. She held it up for the sheriff to see.
“She broke into the house at about three-thirty,” Nick estimated. “I woke up when I heard her trying the doorknob—”
“To the house?” Jericho asked.
“No, to the bedroom. The door was locked.” Jericho said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes. “I tried to get her but she had too much of a head start on me. She escaped.”
“But one of you managed to scalp her,” Adam added wryly, humor twisting his mouth. Jericho shot him a reproving look before turning his attention back to Nick.
He nodded toward the wig. “We’re going to have to take that in as evidence.”
Nick would have been disappointed if the man hadn’t suggested that.
“You might want to run it for DNA,” he encouraged. The Sheriff merely looked at him as if he’d suggested taking the wig dancing. “One of her own hairs might have gotten stuck in the wig.”
“Watch a lot of TV, do you?” There wasn’t even a single hint of amusement in the sheriff’s voice.
“I was a cop in L.A.,” Nick countered. They didn’t have the finest lab in the country, but at least they had access to it.
“That would explain it,” Jericho murmured under his breath. “We don’t have a forensic lab here. That’ll have to go to San Antonio for processing. Might be six
months before we hear anything. Maybe more. In the meantime—” he turned toward Georgie “—you know anyone who would want to do you harm?”
“Not off the circuit. And not really on either,” she amended quickly. “Just knocked out of the running. But I’ve given up rodeoing.” There, she’d said it out loud and made it public with someone who was in contact with most of Esperanza. The sheriff wasn’t a talker, but word would get around. Not like lightning, more like the widening ripples in the lake after a rock was tossed in. “It’s time I settled down. Emmie’s going to be in kindergarten in the fall.”
Jericho nodded. “Got a plastic bag we could use?” he wanted to know, then nodded toward the evidence that was back on the coffee table. “For the wig.”
“Sure. I’ll go get it.” Georgie turned on her heel and went to the kitchen to find a plastic bag for the sheriff. So far, she was lucking out. Emmie was still asleep, but that was subject to change and she wanted these official-looking men out of her house before the little girl was up.
Nick stepped forward. He took the photograph he’d just printed out before Jericho and his man had arrived. He handed it over to the sheriff now. “You might want to pass around this photograph, see if anyone knows her.”
Jericho took the snapshot from him and examined it for a long moment. It was of a young blond woman. “You had time to take her picture?”
“That’s off a surveillance tape. She was using one of Georgie’s credit cards to buy herself a diamond ring. When I pulled off her wig just now, I saw she had blond hair, so I changed the clip around, gave her blond hair,” Nick told him.
Jericho studied the photograph, then raised his eyes to Nick’s face. He had as many questions about him as he had about the woman in the photo. “Who the hell did you say you were?”
They both knew he hadn’t identified himself beyond his name. “Just a concerned friend who wants to see Georgie reunited with her money.”
“Right.”
It was obvious by his tone that Jericho didn’t believe him for a second, but for the time being, his skepticism didn’t matter. They had to find this woman.
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