by Joanna Wayne
“There’s no room, Josh.”
She was using that authoritative voice that had scared the boys into instant submission. But, hell, he was the sheriff. “We’ll come back for it tomorrow,” he announced.
He could give Mandy this, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Someone had to step in and give her, Jenny and Chrysie back their lives. It might as well be him, unless—
Unless he found out Chrysie was guilty of murder. And then it would be his duty to destroy Mandy’s and Jenny’s lives.
So, yeah, even if it took up every square foot of the room and he had to sleep in the bathtub, Mandy could have her tree.
THE HOUSE WAS QUIET except for the boys’ breathing. Josh lay very still, listening to the soft, rhythmic sound. When they’d first come to live with him, he’d gotten up several times a night to walk to the door of their room and listen to that sound. It had seemed a miracle then that he could have fathered two such marvelous sons.
He still marveled, but he took them for granted now. At least he had until Chrysie had dropped into his life. It was impossible to see the fear in her eyes when she talked of the men who’d threatened her children without imagining how he’d feel if someone wanted to hurt Davy or Danny.
But pairing her story with what he’d learned today was like trying to round up cattle with no markings or means of identification. There was no place to start, no way to a solution.
He tiptoed to the bathroom, took a hot shower and slipped into a pair of clean jeans, only half zipping them and not bothering with the button at all since he was only going to the kitchen for a glass of cold milk before he climbed into his sleeping bag.
But when he stepped out of the bathroom, he heard soft footfalls coming from the back of the house. He’d thought Chrysie was asleep, but apparently she was still awake and walking around in the bedroom—his bedroom. He swallowed hard as his pulse jumped a notch and his jeans tightened around his groin.
You’d think a murder case and all the complications that accompanied this one would put a damper on sexual cravings. But then, he knew that wasn’t the case. That’s the reason bodyguards fell for the people they were protecting and cops got taken in by beautiful suspects. Tension begat tension. An attraction that might quietly simmer along under normal conditions escalated to blazing in the face of danger.
He’d have to keep his blaze in the furnace a while longer, but he did need to talk to Chrysie. He knocked softly on the closed bedroom door.
She opened it a crack.
“Can I come in? Just to talk?” he added before she got the wrong idea.
She eased the door open. She wasn’t in the flannel jammies she’d been in that morning but a pair of soft yellow ones made of some kind of silky material that clung just enough that he could see the outline of her breasts beneath the barely exposed cleavage.
He averted his gaze before his needs got out of hand. “Do you feel like talking?”
“Yes, but I don’t know what else I can tell you. My husband was murdered in his bed. That’s all I know.”
She was definitely not leveling with him. “I’m just trying to get a handle on everything.”
“Then ask away.”
He walked across the room and leaned his backside against his pine dresser. “How did you find out your husband was having an affair with his secretary?”
“I had gone into my office for a few hours the way I did every morning. When I got home, the babysitter handed me a brown envelope that she said had been dropped off by courier.”
“Which courier?”
“There were no markings on it to show which service had made the delivery. At any rate, I opened it, and it was a photograph of Jonathan and Vanessa locked in a disgusting embrace. The top buttons on her blouse were undone and he was cupping her buttocks in his hands.”
“Pretty coincidental to find that out on the same day your husband was murdered.”
She bristled, and her eyes fired as if backlit by a torch. “I don’t know why I thought you’d believe me when none of the Houston police did.”
“I didn’t say I don’t believe you.”
“You said it. You just didn’t use those exact words.”
“What did the cops say when you told them about the photo?”
“I didn’t tell them. They found it when they were investigating the crime scene. I’d stupidly left it behind when I’d slammed out of the house that night, and Jonathan had tossed it on the floor near the bed.”
Chrysie dropped to the edge of the bed. Josh started to sit down beside her but thought better of it. He walked to the chair in front of the window and perched on its upholstered arm.
“So you hadn’t told the police what you and Jonathan had argued about?”
“Not originally. I just told them we were having marital problems and things had come to a head that night. It wasn’t a total lie.”
But it was a lie. “You said you think Jonathan was killed in a foiled burglary attempt. What did they steal?”
“Nothing. But they would have if Jonathan hadn’t woken up and I hadn’t come in on them.”
“Okay, let’s see if I have this straight. Two men killed your husband and threatened to kill the girls if you said you’d seen them. They were brazen and evil, but they just walked away with nothing and didn’t actually harm you?”
“I know it sounds bizarre, but that’s what happened.”
“Did the police question you about the gun that was used in the murder?”
“How did you find out about the gun?”
“The question is, why didn’t you tell me that the police found the gun in the bushes in back of your house with your prints all over it?”
Chrysie started to shake. “I had the gun, Josh. I picked it up and aimed it at the monster who was holding Mandy over the railing. I wanted to kill him. I did. But if I had, he would have dropped her.”
“When did you throw it in the bushes, Chrysie? Before you called the police? Or did you hide it and dispose of it later?”
“I didn’t dispose of the gun. I threw it down when the second guy ordered me to and I never saw it again. I know how this sounds, but I never hid the gun. And the police never mentioned to me that they’d found it.”
She turned to him. Her eyes were wide, frightened. Her lips quivered. “You think I killed Jonathan, don’t you?”
No. Heaven help him if he was wrong, but he believed her. He ached to take her in his arms and kiss away her fears. He should go before he did anything that stupid.
Only he couldn’t. He sat down on the bed beside her and wrapped his arm around her trembling shoulders. She rested against him, as soft as a pillow of clover.
And then his lips were on hers, and any vestiges of sane thoughts were stripped from his mind.
He knew he was making a monumental mistake. But still he didn’t pull away.
CHRYSIE TREMBLED AS Josh’s lips claimed hers. The passion surging through her was almost as frightening as the fear, the sweet, salty taste of Josh’s mouth foreign and forbidden. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong man. But the kiss deepened, and she couldn’t fight the thrill of Josh McCain along with everything else she had to battle.
Moments or breathtaking minutes later, Josh jerked away. His rejection hurt—until she heard the sounds. First a creak, then footfalls in the hall, so soft they were almost indistinguishable. She struggled for breath and composure as her youngest daughter pushed through the door.
“I had a bad dream.” Mandy padded across the room, but instead of coming to Chrysie for comfort, she climbed into Josh’s lap. He gave her a hug. It was all so innocent and natural, yet Chrysie felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs.
For three years Chrysie had kept her daughters safe by erecting barriers that no one could break through. Now Chrysie was letting Josh’s nearness and a sexual attraction with no basis in reality weaken her defenses at the time she needed her survival skills and instincts at their sharpest.
J
osh pushed loose locks of Mandy’s hair from a cheek that still held the crease marks from her bed linens. “You don’t need to worry about bad dreams,” he said. “I’m the sheriff. Nobody can hurt you when you’re sleeping in the sheriff’s house.”
“Not even monsters?”
“Nightmare monsters are my specialty.”
Mandy smiled and gave him another hug. A promise from Josh was all she needed to make her feel safe again. But Mandy was totally unaware that the sheriff who promised protection so easily could turn on them at any second.
One phone call and he could have Chrysie on her way to jail, leaving Mandy and Jenny all alone and giving the real monsters free rein to exact revenge in any way they saw fit.
“I’ll take you back to bed and lie down with you a while,” Chrysie said, standing and reaching for her daughter. Mandy slid into her arms and wrapped her legs around Chrysie’s waist as they walked the narrow hallway.
Josh followed close behind. He trailed a finger down Chrysie’s arm when she reached the door to the bedroom the girls had taken over. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.” She couldn’t keep the edge from her voice, but she couldn’t lay the blame for the kiss solely on him.
Josh lingered. “If you need me, you know where I am.”
She knew. Guarding the door and so clued in to the least sound that he’d heard Mandy’s footsteps in the hall long before she had. He’d definitely know if Chrysie tried to escape with the children during the night.
“Good night, Mandy,” he whispered. “And sweet dreams—no nightmares allowed.”
“Okay.”
Chrysie laid her daughter on the bottom bunk bed and tucked her under the covers before stretching to her tiptoes to check on Jenny. She was sleeping soundly, a stuffed alligator that belonged to one of the boys clasped tightly to her chest.
Moonlight filtered through the curtained windows in silver planes and angles, giving the pine furniture a magical glow. A rustic cabin, a simple lifestyle, but Josh McCain was anything but a simple man. He’d used an alias when he’d first come to Montana. For all she knew, his past could be as complicated and convoluted as hers. She’d love to know, but she didn’t dare ask. Shared secrets would only strengthen the weird bonds that already held them.
Chrysie dropped to the one chair in the room, an antique rocker that sat just beneath the window. It creaked softly as she settled into the cushions and rested her head against the high back. She closed her eyes, but opened them again when thoughts of Josh’s kiss slipped into her mind.
She forced her mind to concentrate on the things Josh had brought up tonight. The gun with her prints on it. The fact that the men she was so certain were thieves hadn’t really taken anything. The coincidence of receiving the photograph of Jonathan and Vanessa less than twenty-four hours before Jonathan was killed.
And there in the moonlight of a frigid Montana night, a new possibility took root in her mind: the murder may have been planned and she might have been set up to take the rap.
Her first impulse was to tiptoe into the den, where Josh had bedded down in his new sleeping bag, and tell him her revelation. But once she thought about it, she knew he was too good a sheriff not to have put it together the same way she had.
So why hadn’t he just come right out and said it? Had he just been playing her, trying to read her reactions to the information he’d gathered?
She wouldn’t confront him tonight. Her lips were still sweetly swollen, her body still smoldering from the burst of unfamiliar passion. She couldn’t risk so much as a touch between them.
Only how would she avoid that when they ate at the same table, shared the same shower, breathed the same air? The answer lay in the two girls sleeping near her in unfamiliar bunk beds.
She’d do whatever it took to keep them safe.
Chapter Eight
Breakfast for six was the expected madhouse, though so far there had been no spills or major brawls. Danny and Mandy had, however, managed to get syrup from their pancakes all over the fronts of their pajama tops. Davy was currently bobbing for marshmallows in his hot chocolate, forming quite an impressive moustache.
And Jenny was talking a mile a minute, hoping no one would notice that she’d broken her pancake in little pieces and shoved them all to the middle of her plate so that it looked as if she’d eaten a lot more than she actually had. If Chrysie had Jenny’s appetite, it would eliminate a lot of early morning ab crunches.
“Glad I stopped at the grocer’s yesterday and restocked the cupboards and fridge,” Josh said. “Breakfasts like that don’t come along every day.”
“Definitely not if I’m the cook,” Chrysie said. “It’s oatmeal and toast the rest of the week.”
“Mommy makes great French toast,” Jenny said.
The boys licked their lips and made yummy sounds. Mandy followed suit. She was starting to mimic everything the boys did, and that could turn into a major problem. Chrysie was making an effort to correct the boys’ lack of table manners today. However, she knew deep down her attempt was halfhearted due to the short time she expected to be here.
Josh started to gather the empty plates. “Tell me you can make grits, and I’ll…” He let the end of the sentence trail off.
The easy mood vanished, replaced by heavy-duty tension. The standard finish for the line was “and I’ll marry you.” Yesterday, he could have blurted that right out. It was last night’s kiss that made it awkward now. That and the fact that they’d been sitting at the table laughing and talking like a real family and not one bound by bad luck and Josh’s off-kilter sense of justice.
Danny bumped elbows with Davy, then jumped down from the table and took off running, knowing his twin brother would follow.
Josh caught him before he got to the door, yanking him to a screeching halt. “No playing until you get out of those sticky pajamas and wash every bit of syrup from your face and hands.”
“I wiped them on the napkin.”
“Not good enough.”
“You wouldn’t make us be so clean if Chrysie wasn’t here.”
“I wouldn’t need to. We wouldn’t have had pancakes and syrup. Now hop to it. Get dressed. You, too, Davy. When everyone’s ready, I have a surprise.”
“Is the surprise for us, too?” Jenny asked.
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t leave out the three prettiest ladies in the county.”
“What is this surprise?” Chrysie asked, annoyed that he’d announce they were doing anything without consulting her first.
“We’re going to cut down a Christmas tree.”
Mandy jumped down from her chair and ran to Josh. “My Christmas tree?”
“You betcha. The finest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.”
Danny gave a loud whoop. “Can we take the four-wheeler?”
“We’d never all fit. Besides, I’m doing some work on it.”
There was a chorus of complaints from Mandy and the boys, though Chrysie was certain Mandy had no idea what a four-wheeler was.
“We’re taking the sleigh,” Josh announced.
Mandy’s eyes grew wide. She tugged on Josh’s sleeve with her sticky fingers. “A real sleigh, like Santa has?”
“Nicer than Santa’s. We’ll have to use horses to pull it, though. The reindeer are all up at the North Pole getting ready for their big night.”
“I rode a horse once,” Jenny said.
“So what?” Danny taunted. “Me and Davy ride horses all the time.”
“And Jenny can start riding them all the time, too, if she wants,” Josh said. “But right now we’re going on a sleigh ride.”
The four-wheeler forgotten, the youngsters dashed from the kitchen, their laughter echoing down the hallway. The sound curled around Chrysie’s heart, in spite of the growing apprehension. She took a deep breath, determined to push the fear behind her for at least the duration of the sleigh ride—or at least to subdue it enough she wouldn’t ruin the excitement for everyone
else.
She gathered parkas, hats and boots and helped the kids into the bulky paraphernalia, even though none of them actually wanted her help.
“Wrong foot, Mandy,” she said when her youngest daughter slid her right foot into the left boot.
“I used to put my boots on the wrong feet,” Davy admitted, “but that was when we first moved to Montana. We didn’t wear boots in New Orleans ’cause we didn’t have snow.”
It was the first time she’d ever heard either of the boys mention their life before Josh had taken custody of them.
“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,” Jenny sang at the top of her lungs as she slipped her arms into her jacket.
“Jingle bells, shotgun shells, rabbits all the way,” Danny paraphrased just as loudly. This time both girls dissolved in laughter at his antics.
Their transportation was waiting just outside the back door when they stepped out into the frigid December morning. Chrysie stood there gawking. She couldn’t help it. “It’s awesome,” she said.
“Yeah, it is pretty nifty, isn’t it?” Josh agreed as he finished hitching the horses to the fancy sleigh.
“Where did you get it? It must have cost a fortune.”
“I bought it from Pat Mechans. He has a ranch up north of here and he was getting rid of some of his equipment. This was the jewel of the sale. I had to outbid some rich guy who has a resort in upstate New York. He was mad as a bull stuck in a barbed-wire fence when I walked off with the prize.”
It amazed her that Josh had spent that kind of money on a sleigh. But then, everything on the ranch seemed to be first class except the old and very small cabin.
Chrysie stopped to admire the horses as Josh helped the kids into the back of the sleigh and tucked a couple of heavy blankets around them.
Once that was done, he held out a hand. “Your carriage awaits, milady.”
His gloved hand closed around hers, and her pulse skyrocketed. She took deep breaths in an effort to stop the erratic beating of her heart. She refused to let him see the effect he had on her.
