by Janet Dailey
One thing was certain. They couldn’t continue in this limbo of game playing. When he found Kylie—if he found her—he would do his best to open up and be candid about his feelings, something he’d never done with any woman in his life.
He was halfway to town, still searching the roadsides for any sign of Kylie’s station wagon, when his cell phone rang. His pulse lurched. Was Kylie all right? Had she made it home? Fumbling for the answer button, he took the call.
“Shane, this is Ben Marsden.” Shane recognized the voice of the county sheriff.
“What is it, Ben?” Shane’s heart was pounding. Had something happened to Kylie? Could she have been in an accident?
“I was wondering if you’d checked your tools lately,” Ben said.
“My tools? What’s this about? I’m out here on the road looking for Kylie. She drove into town and she hasn’t come back.”
“Relax,” Ben said. “I saw her earlier at Shop Mart. She’s fine.”
Shane felt his nerves unclench, but he still didn’t know why the sheriff was calling about his tools. And how did Ben know Kylie was fine now? Nothing was making sense.
“Hear me out,” Ben said. “I’m home now, but I just got a call from one of my deputies. A woman they booked tonight was armed with a saw when they picked her up. She’s refusing to say a word, but after she was booked and put in lockup, one of them recognized your initials on the handle.”
“Wait a minute—are you saying they’ve got Kylie? She’s in jail? Damn it, Ben—”
Ben chuckled. He actually seemed to be enjoying this. “Blond, blue-eyed, a real looker, my deputy said. It’s Kylie, all right. They found her I.D. in her purse. But like I said, the lady isn’t talking. She’s refusing to let us call anybody. That’s why they called me. And that’s why I’m calling you.”
Shane shook his head, not knowing whether to laugh or swear. Kylie in jail? Unbelievable! “It’s all right, Ben. It’s fine that she borrowed my saw. I’ll come by the jail and pick her up.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. There are charges pending against her. She’ll need to make bail.”
“Charges? Hell, Ben, that woman doesn’t even jaywalk. What charges?”
“I guess we can drop petty theft for the saw. But there’s still trespassing, as well as destruction of city property—that’s the big one. Oh, and parking on the wrong side of the road. We had to tow her vehicle to impound.”
“‘Destruction of city property’?” Shane cursed under his breath. There had to be some kind of misunderstanding. “What the hell did she do?”
“The deputies caught her at the city cemetery sawing down a pine tree.”
“Lord, have mercy!” Suddenly it all made sense—the limits to which Kylie would go to give her children a good Christmas, complete with a real Christmas tree.
“Can’t you just call your deputies back and tell them to let her go?” Shane demanded. “The woman isn’t a criminal. She’s no danger to anybody, including herself. She can come back in and straighten out this mess after the holidays. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve! Her children are waiting at home!”
There was a pause before Ben spoke. “I’m sorry, Shane. The people of this county elected me to uphold the law. That doesn’t include bending it to do favors for friends, not even you. This has to be done by the book.”
“I understand,” Shane said, and he did. His friend was a by-the-book kind of man. It was one of the qualities that made him a good sheriff.
“Call me if there’s a problem,” Ben said. “I’m in my sweats with a cold beer in my hand and a good Western on TV. But I can show up if I have to.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” Shane said. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Ending the call, he checked the impulse to stomp the gas pedal to the floor. The road was slippery, and Kylie wasn’t going anywhere. She was perfectly safe.
A smile twitched the corners of his mouth. The smile stretched to a grin. Then laughter bubbled out of his chest and shook his belly.
Perfect little Kylie Summerfield Wayne. For the sake of her children’s Christmas, she’d finally done the unthinkable. She’d broken the law, gotten busted, and ended up in jail.
The truth slammed him like a lightning bolt.
Heaven help me, I love her.
There were two women in the holding cell with Kylie. One was barely more than a girl. Dressed in ragged jeans, her hoodie drawn around her face, she sat huddled in the corner with her knees pulled tight against her chest. Was she drugged? Sick? Did she need anything?
Kylie touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“Leave me alone, bitch!” the young woman snarled.
Kylie drew back like she’d been singed. No one had ever spoken to her that way. But then, she’d never been in jail before.
“Leave her be. That little chick’s in here for dealin’ meth. She’s in big trouble. Nothin’ we can do.” The other woman was leaning against the wall. She was in her late forties, with bleached blond hair, Dolly Parton makeup, and a plump body crammed into black stretch pants and a skintight sweater. Kylie’s mother would have branded her a “floozy.” But at least she was friendly.
“First time in here, honey?” she asked.
Kylie nodded.
“What’d they bust you for? Impersonating a Barbie doll?”
“Not quite.” Kylie chose to ignore the good-natured jab. “I was arrested for cutting down a tree in the cemetery—or at least trying to.”
The woman stared at her, then doubled over, quaking with laughter. Only then did Kylie realize she was drunk. “Cuttin’ down a tree—and in the cemetery! Now, there’s a new one!” She clutched her knees. “Oh, Lordy, stop me! I’m gonna pee my pants!”
“It wasn’t that funny,” Kylie said. “My children needed a Christmas tree. I couldn’t find one anywhere else.”
The woman straightened and wiped her eyes. “Well, good for you, honey. It wouldn’t do to let your kids go without a tree on Christmas, would it? Too bad you got busted. Now, less’n somebody springs you, they won’t have a tree for Christmas or a mom, either.”
Kylie blinked back tears. She’d been too embarrassed to call anybody for help or to give the deputies any personal-contact information. What would Muriel think? What kind of example would she be setting for her children? She knew they’d be worried about her by now, but there had to be a way out of this. Surely, the sheriff would let her go. He wouldn’t keep a mother away from her children on Christmas Eve.
But the woman’s remark had slapped her with the cold shock of reality. Unless some miracle happened, she wouldn’t be getting out of here tonight.
“Sit down, sweetie. You look ready to drop.” The woman guided Kylie to one of the benches that lined the wall of the holding cell. She smelled of whiskey and stale tobacco; right now, she was the closest thing to a friend Kylie had. “Looks like we’ll be stuck here awhile. I’m Francine.”
“I’m . . . Kylie.” She checked the impulse to give a fake name. “How about you, Francine? What are you doing here?”
Francine laughed. “Oh, the usual. Some jerk down at the pool hall thought he could put his hands anyplace he wanted. I taught him different. Whacked him with a bottle. Started a free-for-all. It was fun while it lasted. Kinda hoped I’d end up here for the night. Better than spending Christmas alone in that rat hole where I bunk.”
“Hey, Francine!” a male voice called from beyond the door to the office. “We’re orderin’ pizza. What’s yer pleasure?”
Francine glanced at Kylie, one eyebrow raised in question. Kylie shrugged. “What-ever.”
“Hawaiian,” Francine yelled. “Make it an extra large.” She turned back to Kylie. “See, I got good buddies here. Not the worst place to spend Christmas Eve.”
“For you, maybe.” Kylie couldn’t help it. A tear escaped one eye and trickled down her cheek. She wanted to be out of here, with her children, with Muriel and Henry . . . and with Shane.
Suddenly the ache of missing him was more than she could stand. She wanted to curl up in his arms and feel safe, to swim in his clean, leathery man-scent and be swept away by the raw power of his kisses. And she wanted more. She wanted him—and the forbidden passions she hadn’t known since her marriage. She wanted to wake up to his sleeping face on the pillow, to feel the sweet burn of his unshaven stubble on her skin. She was tired of being good, tired of playing the virtuous, grieving widow. She wanted to feel alive again.
Kylie forced her thoughts back to the present. It was easy to dream from behind bars. But right now, she had more urgent concerns. How was she going to get out of here? Maybe it was time to shake her fist and demand a lawyer.
But who would she know to call? And what lawyer would drive over dark, icy roads to help her on Christmas Eve? All she’d wanted was to make her children happy. Instead they would remember this as the worst Christmas of their lives—a Christmas with no green tree and no presents, a Christmas with their father gone and their bungling, inept mother in jail.
How could she have made such a mess of things?
“Don’t look so sad, honey.” Francine patted her shoulder. “Christmas is just another day. You’ll get through it fine. So will your babies. You’ll see.”
“Thanks, Francine. I wish I could believe that.” Kylie used the back of her hand to wipe away the salty tear that had trickled down her cheek.
“I have a daughter who’d be about your age,” Francine said. “Maybe a little younger. But I like to think she’d be pretty like you. She might even have kids of her own by now.”
Kylie sensed a sad story behind Francine’s words. “What’s your daughter’s name?” she asked.
“In my memory I call her Annie,” Francine said. “But I wasn’t allowed to name her for real. By the time she was born, I’d already signed the adoption papers. Only got to hold her once. But she had big, blue eyes, a lot like yours—and a full head of the reddest hair you ever saw.”
“And you don’t know where she is or who her parents are?”
Francine shook her head. “The parents made sure it was a closed adoption. They were afraid I might try to get her back. And I might’ve, too. But it wouldn’t have been a good idea. I was a little crazy back in those days.” She laughed, tossing her bleached blond hair. “Guess I pretty much still am.”
“I’m sorry.” Kylie couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Don’t be, sweetie. I like to tell myself that having that little girl was the best thing I ever did, and that somewhere she’s happy.”
Kylie’s misted eyes blurred her vision. She ought to count her blessings, she told herself. This was a bad time, but at least when she got home, her children would be waiting. She would hug them till her arms ached.
“Mrs. Wayne?” The deputy’s nasal voice startled her. She turned around to see him unlocking the cell door. “Your bond’s been paid. You’re free to go.”
Her first reaction was bewilderment. She hadn’t told a soul she was here, and she hadn’t shared any phone numbers. But as she stepped through the door and glimpsed the tall, lean figure waiting in the hallway, she knew that, somehow, Shane had found her.
Willing herself not to run to him, she turned back toward the bars of the cell. “Will you be all right, Francine?” she asked. “Is there anything I can do? Anybody I can call?”
“Bless you, sugar, I’ll be just fine. Go home to your babies, and have a merry Christmas!”
The young woman in the hoodie hadn’t stirred. Knowing there was nothing to be done for her, Kylie walked out into the hall.
Shane was waiting for her, dressed in his sheepskin coat and holding her purse. His face wore a knowing smile. “Let’s go home, little jailbird,” he said. “You’ve had quite an evening.”
“No comment.” Kylie took her purse and fell into step beside him. “Just get me out of here.”
They walked outside. The night was black and cold, the stars like pinpoints of ice. He took her arm to steady her going down the front steps.
“I called your family,” Shane said. “They were relieved to hear you were safe. You gave them quite a scare.”
“Did you tell them what happened?”
“I told them you had car trouble and your phone wasn’t working. Unless you want to share the truth, this escapade will be our little secret.”
“Thanks.” Kylie began to breathe again.
“Your car’s in impound,” he said, unlocking the passenger door of his pickup. “You won’t be able to get it out till Monday. And, of course, there’ll be a court date. Knowing the judge, I’m guessing they’ll slap you with a fine and probation, maybe some community service.”
“That sounds like a bit much, since I barely scratched that poor tree.”
“But a scratch is proof of intent. And they’re keeping my saw as evidence. Branding Iron justice is like tough love. Believe me, I know.” He offered his arm to help her climb inside. Kylie’s knees felt wobbly. She slumped against the back of the seat. By the time Shane climbed in on the other side, she was fighting tears and losing the battle.
“Oh, blast it, Shane! I’ve made such a mess of things! All I wanted was to give my children a good Christmas with a tree and presents. Now they’ve got no presents, no tree, and almost no mother. Instead of celebrating Christmas Eve, they had to spend it worrying about me—not to mention all the trouble I put you through tonight. How much was my bond? I’ll pay you back. I can write you a check.”
“Come here, Kylie.” Leaning over the truck’s console, he reached out and pulled her close. “I don’t give a damn about the bond,” he muttered. “I don’t give a damn about the tree or the jail or the time it took to track you down. All I care about right now is that you’re safe and you’re here. And if you’re wondering why, it’s because I care about you.”
His kiss caught her off guard. Deep and hot and passionate, it was everything a kiss should be. Her pulse skyrocketed. A bonfire flamed inside her as her mouth molded to his heat, lips softening, opening. His breath roughened as he pulled her tighter. His hands found their way under her coat; his touch was waking tremors of long-denied need. She moaned, pressing against him, hungry for more.
A belly jab from the gearshift knob broke the spell. He released her with a sigh. “To be continued—if that’s really what you want. For now, let’s get you home.”
Starting the engine, he swung the truck out of the parking lot. Still reeling from his kiss, Kylie fastened her seat belt and sank back into the leather upholstery. She had no words for what had just happened. Shane was in the driver’s seat now—both literally and figuratively.
He drove in silence. Not until after they’d left the town behind did he clear his throat and speak. “This isn’t easy to say, Kylie. I’m a proud man, and I don’t believe in telling pretty lies to a woman just to get what I want. I care about you and your children, maybe more than I should.”
“My children feel the same about you,” Kylie said. “You’ve been wonderful with them. I appreciate that.”
“Let me finish. This isn’t about your children. This is about you. You know I’ve been planning to sell out and leave.”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“To tell the truth, I’ve been having second thoughts. Muriel and Henry have both tried to convince me to stay, at least long enough to figure out where you and I are headed.”
Kylie’s heart slammed. She’d fantasized about a relationship with Shane. But what he was offering was a chance at the real thing. Could she handle it? Was she ready? Shane was everything she could want in a man, the whole package, with kisses that burned all the way to her soul.
So, why was she suddenly terrified?
She forced herself to speak. “So, where are we headed, Shane?”
“That’s up to you. Give it some thought before you answer. All I ask is that, if it’s yes, you’ll let me know in time to cancel the listing on my ranch. I don’t want those folks in Michiga
n to make a trip for nothing.”
Part of her wanted to say “yes” right now. But that would put so much at risk—the loss, the hurt, the heartbreak. And not only for herself, but also for her children.
“So, what if I say yes and it doesn’t work out?” she asked.
“Then we cut our losses and go on with our lives. I’m aware that you’re still mourning your husband, Kylie. If you’ll give me a chance, I promise to take things slow. I just need to know whether you’re willing to try.”
They fell silent as they neared the farm and turned in through the front gate. As Shane pulled to a stop, Kylie saw Muriel waiting in the circle of the back porch light, the afghan clutched around her shoulders. Jumping out of the truck, Kylie ran to her.
“Thank heaven you’re all right!” Muriel’s frail arms went around her for a tight hug. “We were so worried.”
“Where are Amy and Hunter?” Kylie asked. “Do they know what happened?”
“I sent them to bed as soon as we heard that Shane had found you. They were both worn-out.”
“They must not have had much of a Christmas Eve. Did the package with the presents ever show up?” Kylie was aware of Shane, standing behind her.
Muriel shook her head. “I’m afraid not. But I do have a bit of good news. I found your wedding ring.”
“Oh!” In all the excitement, Kylie had almost forgotten about her missing ring. “Where on earth did you find it?”
“I keep a pair of old wool gloves in the pockets of my coat. Your ring was inside one of the fingers.”
Kylie remembered now. She’d worn the coat outside and put on the gloves to shovel snow while she spoke with Shane. When they’d ended up arguing, she’d pulled off the gloves and stuffed them back in the pockets, too upset to notice that she’d pulled off the ring as well.
“Here you are, dear.” Muriel held out the ring. “I even shined it up a little for you.”
Kylie slipped the gold band back on her finger. “Thank goodness! I was so afraid it was lost forever!”
