Except she was charmed by Parson Corners. She’d grown up in a small town in northern California and had lived there even though she’d had a singing career at an early age. She’d loved the sense of belonging, of knowing who she’d see at the grocery store, who would wave at her on the streets, who would watch out for her and tell her to get back home when she was late. But her life had gotten considerably more intense as she’d gotten older and able to take concerts and television engagements. When her mother died, Cale had decided it would be easier to have her in L.A. and had sold her mother’s home and bought a house in Beverly Hills. She hated the Beverly Hills house.
Parson Corners Main Street with its red brick construction was a line of cute shops, sturdy businesses and flags at the curb. The ski and clothing shops mixed with the bakery, the drug store, and the gift shops. The place was warm, inviting and simple, a true country hometown that happened to cater to tourists and skiers. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did.
She would have loved to walk the streets, to smile and talk to people, but it wasn’t plausible. Not only had this town suffered when the media descended months ago, but in all likelihood that would happen again.
She sedately drove behind the sheriff and wondered how she could have the hots for the man—because that had to be what this tingling was in the pit of her stomach.
She hoped she hadn’t stared at him too much and given herself away. It would be too juvenile considering she was following him to his house where she would meet the man’s daughter. He didn’t look old enough to have a daughter who was twelve. There were some experiences that automatically made a person more experienced. Having a kid was one of them.
Leia had never even allowed herself to daydream about getting married, let alone having a kid. The minute she got back in her car and away from his sheer masculine presence, she started wondering about the whole sheriff package.
The man was a good foot taller than her, with thick black hair begging for her fingers, and killer blue eyes. She’d thought she’d imagined feeling sheltered by his solid, muscular body when he’d rushed her to the limousine after her hospital stay.
She now knew she hadn’t.
To top it off, he sounded good—she recognized a good voice tone when she heard one—and he smelled triple moan good.
“Shoot.” She bit her lip and turned into a residential area—middle class, homey structures with green lawns, fall-colored autumn leaves, and basketball hoops and bikes at nearly every house.
Pressing her hand over her stomach, she took several deep breaths. She was going back to L.A. She would never see this man again, he would not fit into her life and she wouldn’t fit into his.
Until she turned onto Owl Creek Lane and pulled up in front of his house as he pulled into the driveway.
She stepped out of her car into the crisp, sunny morning on the cul-de-sac. Across from the sheriff’s house was a white rambling two-story home with large windows, several gables, and a long front porch.
She could hear water running, but couldn’t see what had to be a creek nearby. The flowers and bushes rioted for attention in bright oranges, greens and purples across the flower beds to the pots on the front porch. The lawn was neatly trimmed. Two maple trees, beginning to turn yellow, promised tons of leaves on the spacious expanse of green lawn. Overall, the house appeared to be a well-loved home.
A sign was propped against one of those trees. She leaned to get a better view.
For Sale.
She fell in love.
CHAPTER THREE
Zach was calling her name, but she didn’t want to move. If she moved, the perfectness of this home would disintegrate. The part of her that didn’t make hasty decisions warred with wanting the details now. How could she possibly think of living in this small town?
Zach walked down the driveway to her side. “Carlee will be here soon. Come on in the house.”
“It’s beautiful,” she sighed.
He looked across the street. “Yes, it is. Creek runs along the back of the property. It’s got a nice big yard, five bedrooms. They just redid the kitchen.”
“Why are they selling?”
“Cathy Jensen has cancer. She’s in a treatment center in Denver. Family’s moving there to be closer to relatives to help with their three kids.”
“How awful for them.”
Zach shrugged. “Yes, it is. Unfortunately, it happens.”
She took one last look and moved around Zach to walk up the driveway.
It wouldn’t work. It was a nice dream. But it just wouldn’t work. Disappointment and restlessness washed through her, but there really was no way.
She looked over Zach’s yard. His two-story, beige house had character of its own. The small front yard had several maple trees turning color. The front porch wrapped around the side and stopped at the back door. She could feel him at her back, feel his eyes on her. A flash of lust rolled over her. She stumbled on the first step and Zach gripped her elbow to steady her.
“You all right?”
She didn’t dare look at him. She never could keep her emotions out of her eyes.
“Yes. Sorry.” She shook off his touch.
He let go of her and inserted a key in the lock to open the door.
She followed him into the kitchen and took a moment to study him from the tip of his black cowboy hat, down his neatly trimmed black hair and his tanned neck, across his broad shoulders, and the spectacular way his backside molded those jeans and long legs.
She blew out a silent breath and averted her eyes. The visual feast was getting her in deeper than she wanted to be.
What wouldn’t she give for a kiss? She’d never been one to want what she couldn’t have unless it pertained to her music. There wasn’t much she couldn’t have materially now, not much she hadn’t accomplished, but emotionally was another matter. A kiss would be plain silliness and start something she couldn’t finish.
But still she wanted.
She abruptly swiveled and made herself look at the kitchen. Deep honey oak cabinets, dark swirled granite countertops, and walls painted the color of baby yellow ducks made the large kitchen seem warm and homey. She dang near sighed again.
Her mansion kitchen was white on white on white. No personality. No life to it. Here papers were scattered on the center island. The usual appliances were lined up in precise order on the counter from the sink to the refrigerator. A coffee cup and two bowls were in the kitchen sink.
“Why don’t you sit at the counter?” He pulled out a stool. “Carlee will see you first thing.”
She kept her eyes on his kitchen and boosted herself up. The silence became uncomfortable. She got herself under control and dared to look at him. He was watching her, quizzical and uncomfortable, like he was rethinking why he’d asked her to do this.
“Tell me about her.” She crossed her legs and thrilled when his eyes followed the action and lingered.
He turned away from her and went to the cupboard, pulling out the makings for coffee. In quick efficient movements, he started the coffee pot while he talked. “She’s twelve. Seventh grade. She’s smart and pretty, but in some kind of punk Goth phase that’s driving me nuts. She has your poster over her bed and every CD you ever made. She plays them constantly.”
Leia grinned. “That’s sweet. I don’t suppose you are the only parent who has a daughter that gives them fits.”
He leaned against the counter and gave her a rueful look. “Did you give your mother a hard time?”
“Hmm . . . by twelve I was already working on my second album. I was told what to wear and how to act, every second of my day dictated by someone else, and I did it because I needed to sing.”
“No rebellion?”
She shook her head, letting a small smile crease her lips. “Not until later. A certain sheriff put a stop to it.” She watched his expression.
He grimaced, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “You want coffee?”
“Sure. Black.” S
he debated for a moment, but couldn’t stop the curiosity. “Where’s her mother? Or shouldn’t I ask?”
He poured two cups and handed one to her. “Her mother is a television journalist, Denise Deveau?”
“I don’t watch the news much. Sorry.”
“She is currently stationed in the middle east with an international news agency. She and I never married. I have custody. She sees Carlee infrequently.”
“And Dad dotes on baby girl?”
A slight smile crossed his lips. “Yes, he does. The whole family is guilty of that.”
She raised her eyebrow, not able to tamp down the need to flirt. “More than one gorgeous Murphy male?”
Amusement flashed in his eyes. “Three more.”
“Younger, older?” She sipped her coffee.
“One older, two younger.”
“No sisters?”
“Nope.”
He heard the car in the driveway the same time she did. Anticipation hung between like Christmas morning.
Leia turned to the door so Carlee would see her first thing. “You know, she’s going to freak. There probably will be screaming involved.”
“I expected as much.” He kept his position, leaning against the counter, palms resting behind him on the countertop.
The door opened. “Dad,” Carlee yelled, “why did Uncle Beau come get me?”
Zach didn’t answer her, grinning instead. Carlee walked into the kitchen, gave a quick glance at Leia and looked at her dad. “You’re right here. Why couldn’t you come get me?”
Leia rose from her chair and walked to the end of the counter. “Hi Carlee. I’m Leia Shae.”
Carlee dropped her backpack on the floor and swung back to stare at her. “Nuh uh!”
She took a closer look and her eyes rounded to the size of silver dollars. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Dad! Leia Shae!” The screaming started, her hands flew to her face and she started jumping in her excitement.
Leia laughed, pleased with the surprise. The girl was tall and slender, pretty brown hair, deep blue eyes—definitely her father’s daughter. She finally settled and stared at Leia.
“Can I, like, hug you?” Breathless, Carlee could barely get the words out.
“Sure.” Leia reached for her.
Next thing she knew, she was gripped in a tight hug. In the doorway stood another man, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. His similar height, eye color, and square chin made him a relative to Zach and that made him Uncle Beau.
Carlee giggled. “You’re real!”
Leia laughed too, then leaned back, loosening the hold Carlee had on her. “Of course, I am.”
“What are you doing here?” Carlee’s eyes narrowed. “My Dad didn’t arrest you again, did he?”
Zach growled. “Carlee.”
Leia stifled the chuckle, but from the look on Zach’s face, not soon enough. “No. Your Dad didn’t arrest me again. He said you were disappointed you didn’t get to meet me, so here I am.”
“Can you, like, stay for dinner? Can I call my friends to come over?” The girl’s face was flushed with excitement.
Zach shifted away from the counter. “No, Carlee. No friends. Sorry, honey.”
“But Dad!”
Leia put an arm around her shoulder. “We can take pictures and I can stay for dinner, but I have a flight to catch back to L.A. But I can stay for a few hours, if that’s okay?”
Leia glanced over at Zach and noted the surprised look on his face. “Is that okay?”
“You don’t have to do that,” he mouthed at her.
She shrugged. “I know, it wasn’t in the plan, but I’ve got the time.” She’d make the time.
“That’s fine, then,” Zach said.
Carlee went banshee again. When she settled, Zach introduced his brother.
“Leia, meet my younger brother Beau.”
Beau removed his beige cowboy hat and offered his hand. “It is a true pleasure to meet you, miss.”
He lifted her fingers to his lips. Leia was charmed.
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too.” She threaded her arm through Carlee’s. “Why don’t you show me your room.”
Carlee lead her out of the room. “It might be messy.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Leia gave Zach a wink.
“Can you sing for me?” Carlee asked. “I have an old guitar.”
“Sure. We can do that.” Leia basked in the grins on everyone’s faces.
She’d lost the personal touch with fans a long time ago. Carlee’s enthusiasm touched something deep inside, making her remember when her stardom had been a fresh and wonderful thing. Fast on the heels of that feeling came another question.
When had she gotten tired of being Leia Shae and forgotten why she did what she did?
Beau slipped his hat onto the counter and slapped Zach on the back. “Something special you couldn’t resist? Seriously? This was better than special. She’s never going to forget this.”
“No, she’s not.” Zach eyed the doorway, wanting desperately to rush up the stairs and eavesdrop, or better still to just plain be allowed in his daughter’s bedroom and watch her animation as she talked with Leia.
“Are you going to tell me what she’s doing here?” Beau reached in the fridge and pulled out a coke.
Zach emptied his coffee mug and set it by the sink. “She came to apologize for all the trouble she caused.”
“Decent of her.” Beau popped the tab and took a swallow. “Can I hang around?”
“Why?”
“Ah, come on, Zach. Do I have to spell it out? She’s gorgeous. Sexy.”
He crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter, possessive jealousy shooting through him. “Thanks for Carlee’s ride. Go home.”
His brother’s face fell. “You’re mean.”
“So Carlee tells me.” He waited for the calculated look on his brother’s face to reach his mouth. It didn’t take long.
“If you let me stay, I’ll finish Aunt Fiona’s flower beds.”
Zach snorted, then glared at him to see if he was being conned. “You hate shoveling her flower beds. You dodge it every single year. You sure you want to make that deal?”
“Personal concert, sexy smile, get my picture taken with her? Yeah, I’m sure.” Beau grinned.
His brother’s comments clawed at his gut, provoking the jealousy further. He didn’t want Beau looking at Leia that way and he was double damn glad that Ryder had taken Aunt Fiona to Denver to visit Wyatt.
Wasn’t that an utterly ridiculous feeling? How could he be jealous of such a transitory emotion with a woman he wasn’t even involved with?
He couldn’t explain that any more than he could explain why he liked having her in his kitchen, liked her subtle flirting, and her straight-forward questions. He was impressed with her apology and fighting an attraction that had nowhere to go.
He sighed. “You can stay. I’ll help you on Saturday with Aunt Fiona’s garden.”
Beau chuckled. “You’re a pushover. How you stay sheriff, I’ll never know.”
“You beg off on Saturday and I’ll hunt you down like the lazy brother you are and show you why I’m sheriff,” he threatened lightly.
“Would I bail on you like that?” He pulled out a stool and sat.
Zach thought for two seconds, stifling the chuckle. “Yes. You would.”
Beau shook his head in exasperation. “Shows how much you know. Quit looking up the stairs. They’ll come back down when they’re ready.”
He opened the fridge and snapped his mouth shut on a pithy retort. His brother had just caught him staring up the stairs like a love-struck teenager. Something about being around Leia Shae made people lose their common sense and he was no exception.
Zach hovered at the bottom of the stairs. Beau was out on the front porch taking a real estate-related phone call. Dinner was heating in the oven. Leia and Carlee had been upstairs for most of the afternoon. He could hear a guitar thrumming and low voice
s but no content.
His whole purpose for introducing Carlee to Leia was to show Carlee that Leia was flesh and blood, too. She idolized the woman, all in counterpoint to her mother who ignored her most of the time. He didn’t need a psychology degree to figure that out.
Yet, he wasn’t so sure Leia had a lifestyle that was anything for his little girl to be copying. The woman who arrived this morning was warm and interesting, but the untouchable star of the tabloids, magazines and television was another matter.
As he went up the stairs, he made the effort to avoid any squeaky floorboards. He wasn’t really trying to sneak up on them, but wanted to see Carlee’s true and honest reaction to Leia. He’d bet his best cowboy boots that Carlee’s face reflected the joy of the little girl he remembered, not the sullenness of the aberrant teen that had taken her place.
“It’ll be easy. Just sing what I do,” Leia instructed. Her voice slammed him hard in the solar plexus—low, sexy, encouraging. Quiet notes drifted through the air.
Leia started a song Zach didn’t know and Carlee joined in. He stopped and peeked like a kid sneaking out of the house.
Leia and Carlee were in profile to the door and didn’t see him. Leia had the old guitar he’d bought Carlee for her ninth birthday propped loosely in her arms. The thing had always been too big for Carlee, but cradled like a lover against Leia. He was so intent on studying the two that he missed the next two lines.
Leia’s soft tones drifted over him, starting a hum of hunger. The quieter she sang the lyrics the louder the blast to his libido. He squirmed, feeling hot and bothered and itchy.
Carlee had a decent voice, but missed a note in the unfamiliar-to-her song just as Leia messed up the chords. She gave the old guitar a discordant thrum, stopped and laughed.
“This is why I practice lots and now have a band to back me up.” She giggled and Carlee joined her.
“That must be so cool.” Carlee toyed with her hair.
“What? The band?” Leia strummed the guitar, staring at her poster on the wall.
Carlee nodded.
“Yeah, I’ve got some of the best in the business, too. That’s what makes it fun. They love to tinker with the music as much as I do. Want to start over?”
Pumpkins, Cowboys & Guitars Page 50
