Sheriff Takes a Bride (Silhouette Romance)

by Kaye, Gayle

  She rubbed her temples. A headache had begun to throb. But she wasn’t sure she could blame that entirely on Cam. Granny Pearl had every bit as much to do with her present state of anxiety.

  The disturbance in town proved to be minor. Two high school kids fighting over a girl. Cam had separated the boys, given them a strong talking-to, then called their respective parents to take them home.

  The girl they were feuding over was a pretty one. Nearly as pretty as Hallie Cates, he thought, comparing. How could he blame the two for going head-to-head over a good-looking female? Hell, he’d probably do the same.

  Over Hallie?

  Yeah, over Hallie, he admitted with grim reluctance.

  When had his hormones taken this turn? he wanted to know.

  When he’d first laid eyes on the woman, that’s when.

  Cam let out a solitary oath as his Jeep raced along the dusty back roads. He had no business thinking of Hallie in any regard except as Pearl’s granddaughter, Pearl’s granddaughter who would soon be returning to Fort Worth.

  If there was one thing Cam had learned back in Chicago it was to keep a safe distance from the gentler sex. Gentler? He scoffed. Elise had been far from “gentler” as it turned out. His former wife had taken him for one helluva ride—and Cam had no intention of ever getting on that train again.

  If he were wise he’d get this interrogation of Pearl over with—and fast—then get on back to town. Maybe he could find a poker game, drink a few beers, and hope that when he fell asleep he didn’t dream of one fiery-tempered redhead.

  He saw Hallie and Granny Pearl sitting on the porch enjoying the cool evening air when he pulled into the drive. Granny Pearl lit out as soon as she spotted him, taking off through the yard, no doubt with the trumped-up notion of communing with those goats of hers.

  The old girl was going to be contrary—but then, Cam hadn’t expected anything else.

  He waved to Hallie and unlatched the gate.

  “Hello, Cam,” she said as he neared the porch.

  His libido bucked just hearing his name roll off that pretty tongue of hers. Her hair was tucked up and held in place with a tortoiseshell comb of sorts, but small, wispy tendrils escaped here and there and teased at the blush on her cheeks.

  She’d changed into a pair of white shorts that made her legs look a good mile longer than they already were, and all too shapely for his peace of mind. The top she wore was a pretty shade of mint—and made her green eyes look big and wide in the evening twilight. If he’d ever wanted to touch a woman, it was this woman... at this moment.

  He jammed his hands deep into his pockets where they wouldn’t be tempted to follow any wayward path. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, indicating the wicker porch chair Granny had vacated. “It looks as if I might have to wait the old girl out.”

  “Be my guest, but it may be a long wait Granny, uh, doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  Cam let a half smile curl at the edge of his mouth. “Yeah. well, she’s going to have to sometime.”

  Hallie tucked one leg up under her and turned toward Cam. “I tried to get something out of her myself after you left, but I didn’t have much luck, I’m afraid. You’re not going to threaten her with jail again, are you?”

  Cam gave her a long, considering glance. In addition to the defiant set of her chin there was an edge of worry to her demeanor. Hallie cared about Granny Pearl.

  He tunneled his fingers through his hair and studied the deepening shadows in the yard, wishing Pearl would come clean—and give up this moonshine nonsense, save him a whole lot of headaches. “You got any better suggestions?”

  Hallie didn’t, short of the thumbscrews she’d considered earlier. With the firm jut of Cam’s jaw she didn’t think she should suggest any such possibility. He looked just perturbed enough with Granny to go for it.

  Tonight, as before, he was dressed casually, this time in jeans and a white, polo-style shirt that contrasted with his outdoorsy tan. No uniform. Probably saved them for hauling in the tough guys, real fugitives, she thought. With Granny it was the “folksy” approach—not that Hallie suspected it would gain him anything with the old girl. When Granny made up her mind not to talk, she wouldn’t talk.

  “Well, if you’re determined to wait her out, how about a dish of cobbler? It could be a long night, Sheriff.”

  “With raspberries?” His mood quickly brightened. Enormously. Suddenly he didn’t seem to mind how long the little standoff took.

  “With raspberries,” she admitted.

  Hallie just wished she didn’t feel so much like a traitor offering Granny’s lovely dessert to the other side. Granny herself had been about to indulge before Cam drove up. Now she was out there in her big yard somewhere, swallowed up by the darkness. But then—that was her choice. She could have stuck around and answered Cam’s questions like a sane, sensible woman. Instead she’d left Hallie to deal with the man.

  How could Granny have gotten herself—and Hallie—into such a plight?

  “I’ll go get that cobbler. Don’t go anywhere,” she quipped, as if Cam had the slightest intention of moving off the porch anytime tonight.

  “I’ll be here when you get back,” he answered with a low chuckle.

  Hallie swallowed a groan. Didn’t he have anyone from the Most Wanted list to apprehend? She disappeared inside, letting the door bang behind her.

  Cam watched her go—enjoying that enticing little wiggle to her hips—before settling back in the porch chair to relax. This job was beginning to offer a few rewards. He could sit back, look up at the emerging stars and let his suspect come to him. He even had one pretty woman to keep him company while he waited.

  There was a problem or two, however, with his scenario.

  Granny wouldn’t voluntarily come out of hiding—and he didn’t relish bucking George and Myrtle to go and get her. Also, he found Hallie far too tempting for his own good.

  Everything about the woman told him he’d better hold onto his good sense. He didn’t need to go off the deep end over some female, not when he was finally beginning to find himself again, to sort through his anger—and his mistrust—and get on with life, such as it was.

  So, why was he waiting for Hallie to come banging through that screen door? He didn’t think it was just anticipation of the cobbler, no matter how tasty it might be. Oh, no, the woman could rein him in if he wasn’t careful. Damned careful.

  Hallie returned, carrying a tray with three bowls of Granny’s dessert piled high with the berries they’d picked that afternoon.

  “Three? You must have high hopes your grandmother will see reason and hustle herself back up here to the porch,” Cam said, helping her with the tray. Their fingers brushed as he took it from her and Cam saw a bolt of awareness in her green eyes.

  So, he affected her, he thought. That was only half what her touch did to him.

  Damn, what was it about the woman?

  He settled the tray on a nearby table, hoping his own reaction wasn’t equally revealing. She drew away and wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold. Or...warding off danger.

  “I’m hoping Granny will see reason,” she said softly. “Or that the dessert will lure her back.”

  The dessert had lured him all right. Or rather, Hallie had. He wondered if it was too late to get in on that poker game back in town. If he stuck around here he might just end up with more trouble than he bargained for.

  And not from Granny Pearl.

  Hallie picked up one of the desserts for herself and retreated to the porch railing to sit and stare out into the night. Okay, she admitted it, Cam set her pulses to racing. And being alone with him in the darkening night wasn’t helping the situation. The touch of their hands had been inadvertent, but not without reaction. At least on her part.

  This wasn’t like her. “Tell me about Chicago,” she said after sampling a small bite of Granny’s cobbler.

  Cam had seated himself near her on the porch railing, but at the simple ques
tion he stood up and set his bowl back on the tray, then paced to the end of the porch. “What about it?” he asked.

  “Were you a cop there?”

  Hallie meant to make conversation, but she had to admit to a certain...curiosity about the man. She wanted to know more about him than what Granny had told her.

  “Yeah, I was a cop.”

  “Job burnout?”

  He glanced back at her. “What?”

  “The reason you left—job burnout? I mean, why did you come here? To Greens Hollow?”

  He dragged a hand through his hair. “I was offered the job. I took it. Any other questions?”

  She’d gotten more information out of Granny Pearl than she had from Cam. He’d clammed up like a day lily. “I was just curious why someone would leave a big city—with all its advantages—to come to this place—which has few.”

  “Maybe I’m not into...advantages,” he said sharply.

  He could have been—like his partner. He could have lined his pockets well. He still couldn’t believe the payoffs Lazaro had been taking, payoffs to look the other way. Lazaro had looked the other way when that last drug deal went down—and it had nearly gotten Cam killed.

  There was a bond between a cop and his fellow cop, at least that was what Cam had foolishly believed back then. His partner had shattered the myth.

  A few months later Elise shattered a few other myths Cam had erroneously held. He hadn’t cared to stick around to see what else life had to offer.

  As far as Cam was concerned, the conversation was over. Hallie Cates was too damned inquisitive for a man with wounds that were not quite fully healed.

  He should go off in search of Pearl. That, after all, was why he was here, to interrogate the old gal. But at the moment Hallie’s wide, lustrous eyes, and equally lustrous lips temporarily derailed those intentions. She was all he could think about.

  His pacing had brought him within an inch of her. She smelled of sweetness and moonlight. He took her dessert and set it aside, then drew her up from the porch rail and into his arms. He wanted only to taste that mouth of hers, one little kiss, a sampling of what he didn’t need from her—and shouldn’t take. He’d caught her off guard—and he supposed he should feel guilty about that. But he couldn’t seem to summon up the appropriate remorse.

  Not now. Maybe later.

  She felt just too damned good in his arms, her lips too tempting.

  Sexy. The man kissed so sexy that Hallie felt herself pulled into the maelstrom that was Cam. She hadn’t had time to think, to react, before she was taking everything he had to offer. His mouth on hers was possessive, his hold on her gripping, relentless.

  She reveled in the taste of him, the sensual movement of his mouth on hers.

  If she’d ever been kissed like this she didn’t remember it. And a kiss like this she didn’t think she could ever have forgotten.

  Nor would she forget this one.

  His hands tangled in her hair. The small comb she’d clipped into her hairstyle fell with a clatter to the porch and Hallie only vaguely heard it. All she knew was that Cam was devouring her common sense, that little niggling voice that said she should pull away, end this before she no longer could. And she would—in just a moment.

  She only wanted one more taste of the man, one more crush of his body to hers, hard, demanding, powerful, before she returned to the reality of the situation.

  “Cam Osborne, just what in tarnation are you doing with my granddaughter?”

  Chapter Four

  Cam wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or grateful for the surprise interruption of the most enjoyable kiss he’d ever experienced in all his born days. Granny Pearl’s sense of timing left a lot to be desired, there was no doubt about that. But the old woman could be a hellcat—he’d learned that when he’d confiscated her whiskey and herded her into the jailhouse yesterday afternoon.

  He broke loose from Hallie with a jolt and tried to assume a look of choirboy innocence—but it wasn’t working on Pearl. Not in the least. She had blood in her eye, and if that wasn’t warning enough, she snatched up her rusty old shotgun from its hiding place under the porch and aimed it dead center, Cam swore, at one tender part of his anatomy.

  He didn’t know if that bazooka of hers was capable of firing or not, but he was taking no chances. He took an additional step away from Hallie, the woman who’d just turned him inside out with one sweet tasty kiss, and faced down the old one who threatened a less pleasant form of body rearrangement.

  “Pearl,” he said, his voice sounding a little huskier than usual. He didn’t like the barrel of a gun pointed anywhere in his direction. If the old gal was the shot he feared she was, his life could be permanently altered. “Put down the gun like a nice girl and have a dish of cobbler—then we’ll, uh, talk.”

  “We’ll talk right now, Cam Osbome—and with this here gun for inspiration. Just what do you mean kissin’ my Hallie?”

  Cam knew he couldn’t let the old woman get the better of him. “Kissing? Why, Pearl, honey, that was just a friendly peck.”

  “Friendly?” She leveled the gun for dead aim. “I don’t want you gettin’ anything close to friendly with the likes of us,” she sang out in that cranky voice of hers he was all too familiar with of late. “And I know kissin’ when I see it. I might be old, Cam Osborne, but I ain’t no fool—so don’t you go takin’ me for one.”

  “Granny, please, put down that gun right now,” Hallie warned from somewhere beside him. “Cam...Cam didn’t mean anything by that kiss.”

  The hell he didn’t—but now, he was sure, was not the time to argue that point. “That’s right, Pearl, it was totally innocent. Didn’t mean a thing.” He flashed Hallie a smile that said otherwise, then returned his gaze to Pearl.

  The smile hadn’t gotten past her. Damn, but the woman had eyes as sharp as a crow’s. “I seen that, Sheriff,” she said. The gun barrel began to wave in front of him. “Don’t make me blast you one.”

  Pearl was none too steady. One false move and it could be curtains for him. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Pearl. Now, please put down the gun.”

  If she didn’t, he was through dealing with her. He’d have to tackle her around the knees and hope for the best Why hadn’t he stayed in Chicago where the natives weren’t half this unfriendly?

  He took a step closer, then another.

  Pearl didn’t retreat as he’d hoped, just stabbed the gun toward him.

  “Granny!”

  Before Cam knew what had happened Hallie flew past him and grabbed at the antiquated weapon. The damn thing went off in a cloud of dark smoke and smelly powder. The bullet had to have been in the barrel for forty years, give or take ten.

  Cam let out a whoosh of breath when he realized Hallie was fine—and so was Pearl.

  He was still standing, too.

  He wrenched the gun away from the pair, then glowered at Hallie. “That was a fool thing to do. You could have gotten yourself shot,” he barked at her, sounding sharper than he’d intended. But just the thought of what could have happened to her made the blood chill in his veins.

  “Well, pardon me for rescuing you, Sheriff,” she said snippily. “Next time I’ll let Granny blow you to kingdom come.”

  That would be preferable to seeing Hallie hurt, Cam decided, not over his pique at the two Cates women. “Pearl wouldn’t have shot me,” he said more confidently than he felt on the inside. “Isn’t that right, Pearl?”

  “Don’t you go takin’ any bets on that, Sheriff,” Granny returned. “And you’d better keep yourself away from my granddaughter—or you’ll have me to answer to.”

  And that old shotgun of hers, no doubt, Cam was certain.

  But Pearl was right about one thing. If he knew what was good for him he’d put a healthy distance between Hallie and himself.

  And not just because of any threats of Granny Pearl’s.

  Cam faced the old girl. “Okay, Pearl—no more kissing. Scout’s honor,” he agreed reluctantly—but s
ensibly.

  He couldn’t look at Hallie, couldn’t let himself even think of the succulence of that tempting mouth of hers—or all would be lost. He’d withdraw his promise faster than a skunk crossing the road.

  “No more hangin’ around her neither, Cam Osbome,” she added, not satisfied until she had him in a vise she could squeeze until he begged for mercy.

  “Unless it’s business,” Cam affirmed. “We have a few things left unsettled, Pearl.”

  Granny snorted indelicately. “Says you.” She started toward the back door. “You comin’, Hallie? This man needs to go home,” she said in firm dismissal. “We don’t need the likes of him hangin’ around where he ain’t wanted.”

  Hallie knew she should follow after her grandmother. She also knew she owed Cam an apology for Granny’s behavior. She’d involved herself in that kiss of his—and for that he’d found himself at the business end of Granny’s old gun.

  Cam didn’t deserve that.

  “I don’t think she’s in any mood to be civil tonight,” she told Cam, knowing that was an understatement “Just give me some time with her. I promise I’ll talk to her, get some answers out of her about the still. And if she’s involved.” Hallie sincerely hoped Granny wasn’t. But things didn’t look favorable. She glanced down at the weapon Cam had confiscated from her grandmother. “I—I’m sorry about the gun,” she added.

  What would she do if Cam wanted to press charges for tonight’s little fiasco? Had Granny even thought of that? Or about how much she’d frightened them all?

  “This isn’t finished, Hallie, not by a long shot.” Cam wasn’t sure whether he was referring to his attraction to her or the situation with Granny, he only knew the moonlight glinting in her velvet-green eyes at the moment had his mind in a muddle.

  “I think it’s best we leave everything be for tonight,” she commented. “I—I’ll take charge of the weapon, see she doesn’t get her hands on it.”

  She reached for the gun, but Cam held it aloft. “This thing is dangerous. I don’t want it in Pearl’s hands.” He took a step away from Hallie and checked the barrel to be certain there wasn’t another bullet lurking inside. Satisfied it was empty he snapped it shut again. “Does the old girl have any more ammo for this blunderbuss?” he asked.