The Sheriff’s Proposal

by Karen Rose Smith

  Behind her, she heard Logan grumble, “That’ll be the day.” Thinking about being anywhere near Logan’s bed tempted her to stay rather than leave. It was much safer to go back to Aunt Lily’s and help her make lunch.

  Meg sat on the porch with Lily and Ned on Tuesday evening. When the phone rang, she automatically hopped up, said, “I’ll get it” and ran into the house so her aunt and uncle didn’t have to jump up.

  In the kitchen, she plucked the receiver from its cradle. “Hello.”

  “I have a bone to pick with you.”

  Logan’s deep voice rolled through her like thunder at midnight. “And what would that be?”

  “There’s a furry little animal at my house who thinks he owns the place. He claws up the curtains like they’re ladders made for him to get to the window.”

  “You’ll have to teach him he can’t do that.”

  “Which method do you propose I try? Lifting him off each time he does it and telling him no, distracting him or yelling? None of them work.”

  She muffled a laugh.

  “I heard that,” he scolded.

  “You could fill a spray bottle with water and give him a little spritz each time. That should do it.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Very serious.”

  He sighed. “I suppose you also have a remedy for the scratch marks he makes on the furniture when he can’t quite get where he wants to go.”

  “Logan, what are you doing to Leo? He was perfectly behaved when he lived here.”

  “I’ll just bet he was. That’s probably why you gave him away.”

  “Are you questioning my motives?” she teased, thinking he was protesting his dismay just a mite too forcefully.

  “No, I’m just questioning what spell you cast over me to get me to agree to keeping him here.”

  “No spell. Honest.”

  Logan’s voice lowered. “You know you never answered my question.”

  “Which question?”

  “Is there someone special waiting for you in D.C.? Or anywhere else, for that matter?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I tried it once and was very disappointed.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Logan…”

  “Meg, I want to know. Someone as intelligent and pretty as you could have several special someones.”

  “He was a journalist. His career was more important than I was.”

  “According to you or according to him?”

  The same anger she’d once felt resurfaced. “I was a convenience, not a partner. If a story broke while we were making love, he had his clothes on faster than he could say goodbye. And when he was out of sight, I was out of his mind. I deserve better.”

  “Yes, you do.” After a long pause, Logan finally said, “I’ve never been kissed by a woman the way you kiss me. So I can’t help but wish you’d be here longer than Thanksgiving.”

  His words scared her and excited her.

  “Meg?” he asked.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll be over Saturday to finish the roof. Will you be there?”

  “Where else would I be?”

  “Avoiding me.”

  Making a decision, she said softly, “I won’t avoid you.”

  “Good. I’ll see you then.”

  When Meg hung up the phone, she smiled. She was looking forward to Saturday.

  The following morning, Meg sat in Victoria Lee’s office, which resembled professional offices that Meg had seen all over the world with its wood, quality fabrics and computer system. But Victoria Lee was her office. Her beautiful, long black hair, her poise, the culture in her voice impressed Meg. So did her forthrightness.

  “We always need more help. We have two psychologists on staff who help parents and children in transition. We have two secretaries who set up appointments, take phone calls and try to keep up with the paperwork and copying.”

  “Does your liaison travel?”

  “Now and then. But these days, most of the work is done by phone and e-mail. It’s not a glamorous job. Most of it consists of red tape and bureaucracy. But you would meet with the parents and children, and I can assure you the work is rewarding.”

  “I imagine it is.”

  “But you are not ready to commit yourself.”

  “Miss Lee….”

  “’Victoria,’ please.”

  “Victoria, I like the work I do now. At least, I used to.”

  Victoria’s eyes were filled with a wisdom beyond her thirty-some years. “But the experience you went through has given you doubts.”

  “Not doubts exactly. The point is I’m not going to know how I feel about going back until I’m back. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. “Completely. I just don’t want you to give me a definite no. I’ve checked into your background. I know your skills and your reputation. So I wondered if you would consider another option for the time being.”

  “Such as?”

  “As I said, we always need help. How would you feel about putting in some time here, seeing how we work?”

  “Could I volunteer?” Time was beginning to lie heavy on Meg’s hands. Her energy level was increasing every day, and helping Lily around the house just wasn’t enough.

  “If you wish, though I’d feel as if we were taking advantage of you.”

  “No, you wouldn’t be. It would give me something worthwhile to do with my time.”

  Victoria smiled. “That would be fine with me. Why don’t you work out a schedule and call me. We’ll go from there.”

  Meg felt good about this meeting, about Victoria Lee’s agency, about her decision to help. Working would make her feel useful again.

  Meg stood at the bottom of the ladder propped against the garage, a glass of lemonade in hand. Shading her eyes with her hand against the mid-afternoon sun, she called up to Logan, “Would you like something cold to drink?”

  Logan carefully made his way toward Meg and descended the ladder. His hair had been tossed by the breeze. He wore a shirt today, but he’d unfastened the buttons. The flaps lay on either side of his belt buckle. She couldn’t keep her gaze from following the line of dark hair under the snap of his jeans.

  “Would you like to touch it?”

  His question held a sexy rasp that snapped her eyes to his. She felt the heat crawl into her cheeks and she felt like fanning herself.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t resist,” he said, his smile sly.

  He didn’t look one bit sorry. “How’s Leo?”

  Logan tapped her nose. “You’re changing the subject.”

  She tried to keep her expression bland, the idea of touching Logan a passing fancy. “Just checking to see if my little friend has a permanent home.”

  Logan took the glass of lemonade from her, lifted it to his lips and drank it. The strong muscles of his neck, the stubborn line of his jaw, drew her gaze as easily as the hair on his chest and his flat stomach. When he finished, he handed her the glass. “Your little friend is a pain in the butt. But I’m getting used to him. We have a deal. If he doesn’t pounce on the morning paper while I’m trying to read it, I let him lick my cereal bowl.”

  Meg laughed. “And he understands this deal?”

  Logan grinned. “Sure does.”

  “And where does he sleep?”

  “Anywhere he wants. But if you mean at night, I’ve caught him curled up with Travis.”

  Meg’s smile grew broader.

  “Stop looking so smug or I’ll have to kiss you, and that’s not a good idea here in broad daylight. Considering what happened last time.”

  “Did Travis say anything?”

  “No. But then, he doesn’t say much. He goes to school, closets himself in his room in the evenings and stays out till curfew on weekends.”

  She could see Logan wanted more from his son but didn’t know how to go about getting it.

  “Speaking of curfews, how would you like to break a few and go di
ning and dancing with me tonight?” he suggested.

  “Tonight?”

  “Don’t tell me you need more than an afternoon to get ready, because I won’t believe it.”

  “What if I tell you I don’t have a thing to wear?”

  He arched his brows, and his jaw tensed. “You might as well tell me you’d rather not go.”

  “Logan, I’m not turning you down. I’m serious.”

  He stepped closer and pushed her hair behind her ear. “I want to take you dancing and hold you in my arms. For starters.”

  If she went tonight, she was agreeing to let him into her life. If she went tonight… “I could go shopping at Sally’s Boutique this afternoon.”

  “Could?”

  The hope in his voice as well as the desire in his eyes encouraged her to make the decision. “I will. What time should I be ready?”

  “Seven?”

  “Seven’s fine. I’ll see you then.” She turned toward the house.

  But Logan’s voice stopped her. “Meg, I don’t care what you wear.”

  One look into his eyes told her he’d prefer if she wore nothing at all. She hurried to the house, her cheeks hot, her hands trembling.

  Meg had seen lots of men in suits, probably more than she could ever count. But Logan in a suit was a sight to behold. When she opened the door to him, he filled the doorway—broad shoulders in a charcoal jacket, long legs seemingly even longer in dress slacks. The gray shirt underneath was the color of steel, and the gray, white and black tie was perfectly knotted. Despite the GQ look, he oozed the same sensual masculine appeal as when he wore his uniform or jeans.

  Fingering her Aunt Lily’s pearls in her ears, she opened the screen door.

  Logan stepped inside. His green eyes glinted with golden sparks in the dim foyer light. “You might need a jacket…or something.”

  His gaze lingered on her bare shoulders. The black halter dress that she’d bought at Sally’s with its wide cummerbund waist and straight skirt was a basic asset to her wardrobe. She could wear it out to dinner or to an embassy reception. Picking up a black fringed shawl folded over the banister, she asked, “Will this do?”

  He took it from her and unfolded it. “Let me help you.”

  She turned her back to him.

  Logan carefully laid it over her shoulders, then bent close to her ear. “I like your hair like this.”

  His breath at her cheek, his lips so close to her skin, escalated the anticipation inside her to an all-time high. She closed her eyes and tried to calm all the nerves that were rioting out of control.

  He fingered a tendril of hair that had escaped the upswept hairdo. “You smell like Lily’s rose garden after nightfall.”

  Before she did something impulsive like turning around and kissing him without caring what he thought about it, she took a deep breath.

  He placed a teasing kiss on the nape of her neck and asked, “Are you ready?”

  Hoping she wasn’t acting like a teenager, knowing she might get hurt, she faced him and said, “I’m ready.”

  His slow, sexy smile didn’t reassure her, but made her heart pound faster.

  Logan drove to the Garden, the only choice for dining and dancing in Willow Valley. He had a vision of how he expected this night to end, although he hadn’t worked out the practicalities. It was ironic that two adults couldn’t find a place to spend time alone, but with Travis at home and Lily and Ned watching over Meg, they might have to rent a hotel room. The problem was he couldn’t do that without everyone in Willow Valley gossiping about it.

  Lily and Ned’s barn was looking better and better.

  He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and switched off the ignition. Meg’s silence indicated her uncertainty about being with him. “Having second thoughts?”

  She smiled. “No. Just a bit jittery for our first public appearance. You know people are going to talk.”

  “About two friends having a quiet dinner together?”

  Meg’s pretty brows arched.

  He took her hand and stroked her knuckles. “I don’t care about rumors or what people say.”

  “I was thinking about Travis and how he might feel.”

  Logan sighed and stared out the windshield. “Just for tonight, let’s not discuss Travis, okay?” He turned and tried to see her expression in the shadows. “Let’s just concentrate on us.”

  Meg reached over and laid her hand on his thigh. The simple overture revved him up until all he thought about was hauling her into his arms and kissing her until she begged him to bury himself in her. But he knew he had to take tonight slowly…if it killed him.

  He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. When he kissed her palm, he felt her tremble. This was going to be one very long, torturous dinner.

  Logan learned several things about Meg while they ate. She didn’t rush anything—not drinking her wine, not cutting her chicken cordon bleu, not chewing and savoring each bite. She was a careful person, but she knew how to enjoy herself, she knew how to relax, she knew how to drive him crazy from wanting her by simply being herself.

  The table’s breadth separated them, and he hated the distance. Yet the brush of his knee against hers, the answering expectation in her eyes, aroused him as completely as holding her in his arms.

  They didn’t talk much. They gazed into each other’s eyes a lot. Every once in a while, she gave him a shy smile, and he stroked her hand. This kind of foreplay was new to him and erotic as hell.

  The four-piece orchestra began playing as they sipped coffee. Finally Logan couldn’t stand sitting across from Meg when he wanted to feel her pressed against him. He pushed back his chair, stood and held out his hand to her. “C’mon. Let’s dance.”

  She placed her hand in his with a smile that could make a stormy sky turn blue. Logan protectively curved his arm around her and led her to the dance floor.

  Taking Meg in his arms seemed as natural as breathing. At first he left a few inches between them. Her brown eyes locked to his were enough. But slowly, with each heartbeat, he drew her closer…too close to dance, almost too close to breathe.

  Her hand slipped out of his, and she linked her arms around his neck. He caressed her bare back, feeling the tremors course through her. Smiling, he rested his jaw against her temple, savoring the response of a beautiful woman in his arms.

  After Travis was born, sex had been a duty to Shelley, a duty she’d used for her own benefit. She’d used her pregnancy and their hasty marriage as grounds to keep her distance. And he’d been a fool to believe commitment could stand in for feelings that had never matured or deepened. As always, Logan tried to push the guilt away and didn’t succeed.

  Meg released a soft sigh, and her breasts pushed against his chest. The lightning-quick response of his body had to be obvious. But she didn’t pull away.

  He brought his hand to the back of her neck and rubbed in a small circle. Lifting her chin, she waited.

  Bending his head, he kissed her. The music wound about them, her perfume intoxicated him and her taste aroused him. They were the only two people in the world, and all he could think about—

  Beep, beep…beep, beep.

  Beep, beep…beep, beep.

  Meg pulled back.

  Logan swore. “I told Cal not to buzz me unless he had an emergency.”

  He escorted Meg to their table, then went to a quiet corner. “Cal? This had better be good. What’s going on?”

  “Someone broke into the high school. You’d better get over here.”

  Logan looked over at the table where Meg sat. So much for the night he’d planned. Damn. He had to shut down his libido and wake up his sixth sense instead of his baser ones. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t touch anything.”

  “I know better than that.”

  “Sorry, Cal. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “You droppin’ Meg Dawson off first?”

  Logan sighed. He wasn’t going to even ask how his deputy
knew. There were few secrets in Willow Valley. “Yes, I am.”

  He hung up and crossed to Meg. Usually he liked his work. Usually, he didn’t hesitate to go when duty called. But tonight duty was a four-letter word he’d rather wipe from his vocabulary.

  Chapter 9

  An hour later, Logan stood in the principal’s office, waiting for Michael Holden to answer his question.

  Michael ran his hand through his brown hair. “The change is gone from the cafeteria office. Fifty dollars. The individual classrooms don’t seem to have anything missing. Do you want me to call the teachers tomorrow and have them come in and check?”

  Logan surveyed Michael’s office for the tenth time, interested in anything that might look suspicious or out of place. “That would probably be a good idea. What about in here?”

  “I keep it locked—too much confidential information.”

  Logan peered into the full waste can. “When does the janitor clean?”

  “Early Monday morning while I’m in the building.”

  Logan respected the way Michael ran the school. “But he cleans the rest of the school on Saturday?”

  “That’s right.”

  Logan rubbed his chin. “From what I can tell, I think the thief snuck in this afternoon while the janitor was cleaning. Mrs. Konnecut saw someone leaving by the west door, and that’s why she called us.”

  “Did she recognize who it was?”

  “No. And she keeps track of everything and everyone she can. But her sight is failing. Cal’s at her place now. I’m going to stop there to question her, too, and to see if I can pick up any more details. Do you have any ideas who broke in?”

  “Not offhand. But I’ll circulate Monday and have the teachers keep their ears open. If someone did it for a prank or a dare, he’ll brag.”

  “No one tampered with your office door.”

  “And that means…?” Michael asked.

  “I think it means the thief thought your office would be too much trouble. He wanted easy pickings and he probably knew where to get them.”

  Logan walked out into the main office area and narrowed his eyes, staring at the computer on the secretary’s desk, the long counter where students stood to wait for information or directions. He’d gone over everything at least ten times.