The Heiress and the Sheriff

by Stella Bagwell

  “If she has some already made. But tell her not to go to any trouble.”

  Mary Ellen laughed softly. “It’s never any trouble for Rosita to serve the sheriff. You’re just like one of her five kids.”

  She knocked on a carved wooden door, and from deep inside the room, Wyatt could hear Gabrielle’s voice responding. Then, moments later, the door swung wide.

  Her mouth fell open at the sight of Wyatt, then immediately snapped shut to form a grim line. “Oh. It’s you,” she said none too graciously.

  “I think Wyatt has some business he wants to see you about,” Mary Ellen told her. She glanced at Wyatt “So I’ll leave you two alone. Rosita will be in soon with coffee.”

  Wyatt thanked Mary Ellen, then stepped past Gabrielle and into the room. He’d been in the other wings of the house before, but never this particular part. The Fortunes had certainly made things more than comfortable for their mysterious houseguest.

  “I see you’ve already settled in. New dress and all.”

  She turned to see his penetrating gaze scanning her figure, and hated the fact that she felt totally naked beneath his perusal. “Maggie bought me a whole pile of things. And before you start in—I didn’t ask for any of it.”

  His smile was more of a sneer, and Gabrielle’s spine stiffened.

  “I’ll bet you didn’t try too hard to make her take them back, now did you?”

  “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but Maggie is a kind person. I wasn’t about to insult her generosity. I’ll leave the clothes here whenever I leave, and she can donate them to a church or needy shelter.”

  He hadn’t expected that from her, and for a moment he wondered just how far a woman could take her subterfuge to get what she wanted. A long way, he figured. Especially if it meant getting her hands on some of the Fortune millions.

  “Still trying to make me think you’re a lost missionary worker?”

  She glowered at him while trying not to let his sarcastic question hurt. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to make you think.”

  To her surprise a little grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “You know, the longer you stay here, the more I’m going to see you’re not the helpless little lamb you want the Fortunes to think you are.”

  Gabrielle didn’t know what sort of temperament she’d had in the past, but right now she wanted to throw herself bodily at this man. She wanted to whack her fist against his broad chest just to see if she could make him feel.

  “Yes, I’ve really been giving them a sob story. By the time I leave here, I’ll have a pile of money and Ryan will be writing me into the will. And all because I had the good luck to have a wreck on the Double Crown.” She laughed then, a mocking sound that made him glower back at her. “But I’m sure you already know I somehow managed to stage all of that too. I even planted the snake down at the creek so it would strike at Maggie’s horse so it would deliberately run wild in front of my car. The whole incident took some doing, but I’ll have to admit the timing was perfect. I even managed to get out of the car just before it blew up. I’ll bet that makes you good and sick—”

  “That’s enough!”

  She shot him an innocent look. “Really? I thought you wanted me to…what did you call it yesterday? Fess up?”

  He closed the few steps between them and clamped his hand around her upper arm. “You’re treading on thin ice, Miss Carter. Are you deliberately trying to make things worse for yourself?”

  Her breasts were heaving up and down like a laboring engine, and she hated him for having such a savage effect on her. “I may be at a disadvantage right now because I don’t know who I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand around and let you harass me. You’re nothing but a bully with a badge pinned to your shirt!”

  Never in Wyatt’s life had a woman twisted and turned his insides like this one, and before he could stop himself he jerked her forward and into his arms. The shocked look in her eyes as her breasts flattened against his hard chest gave him a surge of power and pleasure.

  “For two cents I’d shut you up good and proper,” he muttered harshly as he stared down at her moist lips.

  “I wish I had a purse with two cents in it!” she heaved back at him. “Then we’d see just what sort of man you really are!”

  Wyatt knew he should push her away. But suddenly he was drugged by the warm softness of her body. The sweet scent of her skin and hair drifted to his nostrils and filled his head. Without thinking, his hand spread under her chin. His thumb and fingers clamped into her cheeks, making her lips part temptingly.

  From the first moment he’d looked at this woman’s face, he’d wondered what it would be like to taste the soft alluring curve of her lips. Now all he had to do was bend his head and bite into their fullness.

  “If that’s what you want, then you can charge it,” he taunted lowly.

  Gabrielle’s heart pounded as she watched his face dipping closer and closer. She couldn’t let him kiss her. She might as well throw herself into a pit of fire!

  Just as she started to squirm against him, a knock sounded on the door. Instantly, he dropped his hold on her face and stepped away from her. Her cheeks flaming with anger and embarrassment, Gabrielle hurried to answer it.

  While she was at the door, Wyatt walked over to the sitting area and looked out at the courtyard. Darkness had fallen and the walkways between the carefully tended gardens were lit with footlights. But he couldn’t see any of it. Gabrielle’s face kept swimming temptingly before his eyes.

  He didn’t know what in hell had come over him. For nearly eight years he’d worked as a lawman, and during that time he’d met all sorts of women. Never had he laid hands on one in such a way. He’d never wanted to. But something about Gabrielle both infuriated and excited him. He wanted to touch her, shake her, rile her. He wanted to know who she was and what she was. Not as a sheriff, but as a man.

  “Rosita brought the coffee. She sent cake with it. In case you haven’t had supper, she said.”

  Sarcasm tinged the last of her words, and for once Wyatt didn’t blame her. He’d been gouging her since he first walked up on her after the car accident. And that wasn’t like him either.

  With an inward sigh, he turned away from the window to see Gabrielle placing a tray of food and drinks on the low pine coffee table sitting parallel to the couch.

  He said a bit wryly, “It may surprise you to know that Rosita likes me.”

  Keeping her gaze carefully averted from him, she sat down and began to pour coffee from an insulated pot into two heavy mugs. She was still consumed with the feel of his hard warm body next to hers and the sight of his lips inching closer. It was a blessing that Rosita had knocked. Otherwise, Gabrielle really didn’t know how she would have resisted the man.

  “Rosita probably likes everyone.”

  “No. Rosita is cautious and suspicious. And even more superstitious.”

  She found the courage to glance at him and was surprised that he wasn’t looking at her as though he’d like to slap her in irons. “I’ve already learned that. She predicts I’m going to learn something about myself while I’m here,” she told him, then asked, “Sugar or cream?”

  “No. Straight.”

  She handed the mug to him, and their eyes met. Electric excitement raced down Gabrielle’s spine. “Rosita also said I would know you before I left here.”

  One of his brows arched with mocking humor, but inside he felt an odd sort of chill, a sensation closely akin to fear. Which didn’t make sense. Wyatt didn’t fear anything. He’d endured and survived eighteen years of hell with his father. Nothing could be worse.

  “Rosita is always making predictions.”

  “Do they ever come true?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes she makes a lucky guess.”

  She carefully studied the closed expression on his face. “Then you don’t believe she’s psychic?”

  “I believe Rosita is a wise old woman who makes her deductions with her eyes and her ears.�
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  Gabrielle was inclined to agree with him. Yet she couldn’t dismiss the fact that Rosita had also warned Maggie of a striking serpent.

  Turning her attention back to the tray, Gabrielle tilted a pitcher of cream over her mug until the coffee was the color of caramel. “It’s odd, isn’t it, that I don’t know what my house or apartment looks like or who my family is, but I instinctively know I like cream in my coffee.”

  “Matthew says amnesia is a tricky thing.” Dammit, now he was halfway admitting she really might have amnesia. What else was he going to be doing before he left here? he wondered crossly.

  She looked up at him. “Then you do believe I have amnesia?”

  There was such a hopeful, eager look in her eyes that he felt his resistance close to crumbling. “I’m not believing anything yet. Either one way or the other.”

  Her shoulders visibly sagged with disappointment. “Why did you come here tonight? Mary Ellen mentioned you had some business to discuss with me.”

  He leaned toward her and picked up a slice of carrot cake from the wooden tray. “I do.”

  She waited while he took a bite of the sweet and swallowed it. If he had any news to give her, he was certainly taking his time about telling her. But then, she’d already come to the conclusion that Wyatt Grayhawk did things his own way and at his own speed.

  “I’ve got your home address. Or at least the one you gave the car rental agency.”

  Her mouth fell open and she quickly plunked her mug down on the coffee table. “My address! Why are you just now telling me? Where is it? Have you located anyone there?”

  Her questions had a frantic edge to them, and Wyatt wondered if it was from fear of exposure or real eagerness to find her past. He wished he knew.

  “It’s somewhere in the Los Angeles area. The only thing I’ve managed to get on the telephone is a recording on your answering machine.”

  “What does it say?”

  “The normal thing. That you’re away from the phone and to leave a message.”

  “Oh. Well, that hardly gives you anything to go on.”

  “On the contrary. It tells me more than you think.”

  “Like what?”

  Hope was back in her voice. Wyatt tried to ignore it. “Namely that you live alone.”

  “How can you be sure? I might have a roommate. Or a lover.”

  Wyatt bit into the rich, spicy cake while he pondered Gabrielle’s remark. Maybe being a virgin was something a woman couldn’t instinctively know about herself. Or maybe Gabrielle was simply testing him, trying to see just how much he actually knew about her.

  “You didn’t mention a roommate’s name on the machine. And as for the lover…I don’t think so,” he said bluntly.

  “Why?” she persisted. “I realize I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. But it’s possible I have a live-in lover.”

  Wyatt’s gaze fell to her small hands, now clutching the coffee mug. Her nails were short and neat and painted a pearly color that reminded him of the inside of the mussel shells he used to pick up from the creek bed. The thought of those soft tanned fingers stroking some man as he made love to her was repulsive to Wyatt. Unless he was that man. God help him.

  “I said no!”

  She reared back at his outburst, her face a picture of bewilderment. “Why is that so hard to imagine? I’m fairly certain I’m of legal age. If there is a man I was involved with, he might be able to—”

  “There is no man, Gabrielle. You’re a virgin.”

  Five

  Gabrielle appeared so totally stung by his comment, he almost believed she was amnesic. But then, good drama classes could have produced the same expression, he assured himself.

  “How could you possibly know such a thing!” she flung at him.

  Wyatt couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the heat of a blush steal over his face. But he was sure as hell feeling it now. “I wasn’t supposed to know,” he muttered. “But it was part of your medical report and—”

  “And you just didn’t have the decency to quit reading!”

  Wyatt could have told her that he hadn’t read anything. But he wasn’t going to lay any sort of blame on Matthew. She already considered him the equivalent of pond scum. It didn’t matter if she believed he’d also invaded her privacy.

  “Miss Carter, there are things going on here—”

  “I know all about those things! Maggie has filled me in on Bryan’s kidnapping and how the recovered baby turned out to be Matthew’s son. But a different one. Which he says he didn’t know he had. And if you think I had something to do with any of it, you’re crazy, you’re—”

  Her words halted and she frowned. Then, bending her head, she pressed a hand over her eyes.

  “What’s the matter?”

  She didn’t answer or look up at him. He moved closer and took her by the shoulder. “Are you ill, Gabrielle?”

  “No,” she said with moan.

  “Then look at me!” he ordered.

  “I can’t. I can’t see you. Everything suddenly started blurring and running together.”

  The panic in her voice was real, and Wyatt could not stop his hand from reaching up and stroking down the long length of her hair. “Is your head hurting?” he asked more gently.

  “Not any more than it’s been hurting all day.”

  He stroked her hair again, loving the way the silky texture slid against the pads of his fingers. “See if your vision is getting any better,” he urged.

  She lifted her head and turned slightly to look at him. The puckered frown between her brows told him she was still struggling to focus.

  “I think you should lie down, Gabrielle. I’ll help you.”

  He took her hand and drew her up from the couch. After two steps she swayed on her feet and clutched desperately at his forearm. “I’m sorry, Wyatt. Everything is spinning. Just give me a moment.”

  Wyatt didn’t bother giving her time. Instead, he bent and picked her up in his arms.

  Gabrielle gasped. “What—are you doing?”

  “Keeping you from falling on your face.”

  Gabrielle had no other choice but to wrap her arms around his neck and hold on as he carried her across the long room.

  She was not a large woman. She wasn’t petite either. Yet Wyatt managed her weight as though he were used to lifting much more. His arms were strong bands around her back and beneath her thighs. The hard muscles of his shoulders flexed beneath her arms.

  In spite of his cold words she felt safe and protected by his nearness. Scents of sweet grass and earthy musk emanated from his clothes and rich black hair. The smell filled her like a heady drink of wine. She was gripped with the urge to bury her face against his neck and savor the feel of his smooth brown skin beneath her cheek.

  All too soon he was lying her down on the mattress. As he straightened away from her, she instantly missed the warmth of his body and the secure feeling it had lent her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked when she realized he was pushing some sort of intercom button.

  “I want Matthew to take a look at you.”

  She started to protest, but before she could open her mouth he was already speaking into the intercom.

  He disconnected, then the mattress dipped as he sat down on the side of the bed near her shoulder. “He’ll be here shortly,” he told her.

  “The man has enough troubles without me disturbing him. I didn’t come out here to make a pest of myself. Although I’m sure you don’t believe that.”

  Wyatt didn’t know what to believe anymore. But he didn’t want to take the chance that Gabrielle was simply faking it. If she truly needed medical attention, he would be the first to want her to have it.

  “Matthew has been through a hell of a lot these past months. I doubt doctoring you will add to the strain.”

  She didn’t say anything to that, and he told himself he should get up from the bed and put some space between them. Yet he didn’t. He liked being near enough
to smell her flowery scent, see the fine texture of her skin and the amber-brown flecks in her eyes. Her lashes were too long to be real. Yet he could see they were as natural as the dusky-pink of her lips. Lips he still wanted to taste.

  “Wyatt?”

  She’d never called him by his given name, and it sounded strangely intimate coming from her.

  “Yes.”

  “I know the Fortunes aren’t any of my business. But I frankly don’t understand why a man like Matthew donated sperm. He has a wife and a child with her…”

  Wyatt considered telling her she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. But she was already staying here as a guest in the Fortune house. She could easily get the information from one of the family members. And he was beginning to get the feeling it would be better all around if he loosened up with this woman. If she got the idea he was beginning to trust her, she might just let her guard down.

  “It happened long before he married Claudia. When he was in his first year of medical school at Stanford,” he told her. “I’m not exactly sure what prompted him to donate sperm. I think…well, Matthew is a real family man. He loves children, and I think he liked the idea of being able to help some infertile couple have a child of their own. I’m sure he never believed the donation would lead to anything like this.”

  “No. I’ll bet not,” she agreed.

  His lips twisted as he looked down at her woebegone expression. “Why the long face? His problem is nothing to you.”

  She turned her face away from him, but not before he could see her frown was full of hurt. “How can you be so coarse? He’s a kind man. I feel sorry for him. I can’t imagine having a child and then losing it.”

  Without warning, thoughts of his mother entered Wyatt’s mind for the second time that day. Could Gabrielle ever be the way his mother had been? Could she vow her love, then walk away without a word and never come back? No matter what the answer, he would never risk his heart to find out.