Heiress Beware

by Charlene Sands

  Jane had nothing else to wear, and just as she was about to relay those sentiments, Lizzie spoke up. “Let me take care of that. I’ve got it all under control. Just relax and enjoy. I’ll show you to the bathroom. Lavender bubbles await.”

  Jane suddenly couldn’t wait to get out of her clothes and cleaned up. And she’d learned one new thing about herself.

  She preferred a steamy hot bubble bath to a shower any day of the week.

  Mac entered the kitchen through the back door, unfastening his gun belt and yanking off his hat. He hooked both on a wooden rack that had seen better days. Lizzie had been pestering him about updating the kitchen, but Mac liked things as they were. Change made him uneasy, and he’d grown accustomed to the chipped tiles and outdated curtains. “Hey, Liz,” he called out.

  “Not Lizzie,” a voice corrected, and he spun around to come face-to-face with Jane. “Just me.”

  He took a step back, seeing her in his kitchen, her face clean, her blond hair wet and combed back, falling to her shoulders. Those lavender eyes seemed larger now and more expressive as she examined him for a moment, before she turned toward the oven.

  “Lizzie’s taking a Pilates class right now. She trusted me with heating up your dinner. I hope that’s okay.”

  Mac grunted. “Fine.”

  “She said not to wait dinner on her. She had some errands to do after that. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  Being “stuck” watching a beautiful woman make him dinner wasn’t half-bad, Mac thought. He stood there staring, watching Jane busy herself around his kitchen, wearing what he recognized as Lizzie’s clothes. Levi’s hugged her bottom like a baby to her mama, and the Winchester Wildcats T-shirt she wore never fit his sister that way. Lizzie was nothing if not loyal to the high school football team, but hell, Mac hadn’t seen anyone fill out a T-shirt so well.

  Detective skills aside, any red-blooded male would notice that Jane wasn’t wearing anything under that shirt. Brown-and-white material stretched across her chest, exposing twin tips jutting outward, and each time she moved, everything jiggled.

  Hell.

  He wouldn’t even think about what she might not be wearing under those Levi’s. “More like you’re stuck with me. Need some help?” he asked.

  Jane stopped with oven mitts in hand, ready to put the roast in the oven. “I’ve got it covered. But thanks. Dinner should be ready in an hour.”

  He headed for the refrigerator, stifling the heat crawling up his neck, remembering why he’d come home early in the first place. He had news for Jane. “Want a beer?” he asked, yanking out a Bud.

  Jane closed the oven door and stood to face him. “I don’t know. Do I like beer?”

  Mac grabbed a second bottle. “Only one way to find out.”

  He handed her a beer and gestured for her to sit at the table. Both took seats facing each other. “How’re you doing? Feeling okay?” Even though she looked great, he had to ask. He felt an obligation to see to her care. And Mac never took his responsibilities lightly.

  “I took a little rest earlier, and it really did me a world of good. I’m feeling much better.”

  “No headaches?”

  Her damp hair framed her face when she shook her head. “Nope. No headaches.”

  Relieved, he nodded, realizing that Miss Jane Doe had been on his mind most of the day. He’d been concerned about the fall she’d taken this morning, and how she would fare the rest of the day. “I took a few deputies and went out to the site where I found you.”

  Jane played with her bottle, twisting it back and forth in her hands. Her eyes were wide, and Mac noted the anticipation on her face. “And?”

  “Well, we can’t be sure, but there’s evidence that a car had pulled off the road about a mile and half back from where I found you. We found fresh tire tracks in the dirt. If it was your car, chances are it’s been stolen. Then again, it could be completely unrelated.”

  “That’s it?”

  Mac shook his head. “I’m sorry it isn’t better news.”

  Jane took a swig of her beer and Mac waited for her reaction. She kept on drinking until she’d emptied half the bottle.

  “Guess you’re a beer drinker, after all.”

  She shrugged, her eyes downcast. “So I like beer and hot bubble baths.”

  Mac didn’t need a reminder of how Jane looked, cleaned up. He’d already had enough to deal with, watching her busy herself around the kitchen, but the thought of her naked and soaking in a steamy tub of bubbles sent his mind spinning. He took a swig of his own beer, and then a longer drink. Hell, he couldn’t recall a time when a woman made him feel so unsettled. He’d taken a few jabs of ribbing at the station when he’d quit to come home early today. That teasing was bound to escalate once his deputies got a good look at her.

  She peered up at him with those large questioning eyes. “What now?”

  Mac returned his mind to her situation. He scratched his head, laying out his next plan of action. “Routine stuff. We’ll check the local area reports of missing persons. We’ll run your fingerprints tomorrow and see if we get a hit.”

  “Fingerprints? Do you think I could be a felon?” She whispered the last word, as if appalled by the notion. She had trouble meeting his gaze as she tried to mask her distress.

  Mac shook his head. Instincts told him Jane Doe wasn’t a criminal. He wanted to reach out to her, to reassure her and lend her comfort. But the lawman in him couldn’t do it. He knew he stood behind a firm, defined line. He couldn’t breach that line. Sometimes, even the most innocent-appearing people held the worst kinds of secrets. Mac had been a lawman fifteen of his thirty-five years, and he’d seen enough to harden him. “Not necessarily. Criminals aren’t the only ones who get fingerprinted. We go through Automated Fingerprint Identification System, an automated way to identify persons in the military and law enforcement, too. If you’ve ever applied for a liquor license or been caught with a concealed weapon, your fingerprints should be on record. The system is designed for identification purposes.”

  “But mostly it’s used to identify criminals, right?”

  “Yes, that’s true. Do you have a prob—”

  Jane shook her head quickly. “No, no. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “Okay, that’s our next step. Might take a while, so don’t set yourself up for disappointment, okay?”

  She nodded, and cast him a brief smile. “Okay.”

  Mac stood and walked toward the hall, ready to change into his street clothes. He grabbed his gun belt on the way out. Habit had him keeping the gun in his room at night, rather than out in the open where a perpetrator might find it. “Oh, one more thing,” he said, turning again. Jane stood to face him, lifting her blond brows.

  “Do you, um, have any unusual or identifying marks on your body?” He swept his gaze over her, unable to limit his focus to her face. Suddenly the three feet that separated them no longer seemed enough. It was one thing interviewing a victim at the jail and another thing entirely speaking of such a subject in the privacy of his own home. Or maybe it was just asking those personal questions of Jane that swamped his body with heat. “Tattoos, body piercings, anything like that?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing like that. But I, uh…I do have a birthmark.” She blushed, her face coloring quickly.

  Encouraged, Mac asked, “Where?”

  She bit her lip and turned sideways, pointing to an area just above her derriere. Lizzie’s low-rise Levi’s covered the spot in question. “I don’t quite know how to describe it. It’s kinda hard for me to see.”

  Mac swallowed, cursing himself for asking the question in the first place. Always the dutiful lawman…He stood there, staring at Jane’s perfect butt.

  “Is it important?” she asked, “because you could—I mean, I would let…”

  Mac stared into clear blue, earnest eyes. He stepped back, shaking his head. “I’ve tangled with some pretty tough characters,
Jane, but sorry. I’m just not that brave.” Or stupid, he wanted to add.

  He exited the room quickly, his body tight and hot, but even worse, his ears burning with Jane’s quiet chuckling.

  Three

  “I gathered my things, if you want to take a look at them,” Jane said, holding the pile of newly laundered clothes. She stood by the screen door, waiting for Mac’s response.

  He sat comfortably in a white wooden lawn chair, looking out at the backyard garden, which was full of trimmed shrubs and colorful spring flowers that Lizzie prided herself on. She’d given Jane a quick tour of the grounds when they’d met earlier today.

  Lizzie had been kind enough to wash and dry all of her clothes, except, of course, the cashmere sweater. It was ruined anyway, ripped a bit and stained with red dirt from when she’d fallen.

  After dinner, Mac had asked to see Jane’s belongings, meager as they were.

  “Bring them outside,” he said now. “It’s a nice night. I made coffee.”

  The screen door slammed shut behind her as she exited the house. Two mugs of coffee sat on a white wicker table beside Mac. She took the other seat, somewhat touched that he had included her in his little respite.

  “I can vouch for my coffee. I make a mean cup.”

  “That’s good, I think,” she murmured, setting her clothes on her lap.

  Mac cleaned up nicely, she thought. She’d been taken aback earlier this evening when he’d entered the kitchen for dinner dressed in casual street clothes—faded jeans and a black polo shirt. Tanned and well muscled, he seemed less formidable out of his uniform, but just as appealing.

  She wondered what it would take to bring down his guard. She had yet to see him smile.

  “I have to thank you again for all you’re doing for me.”

  “It’s my—”

  “And don’t say it’s your job, Sheriff Riggs,” she interrupted, wagging a finger at him. “You went beyond the call of duty by taking me in. You have a lovely home and your sister is as friendly as can be. Both of you have made me so welcome. Under the circumstances, I feel pretty lucky. One day I hope to find a way to make it up to you.”

  Mac glanced at her, his dark brows arching. His lips quirked and he shook his head. “Don’t offer to show me your birthmark again and we’ll call it even.”

  Completely stunned, Jane gasped, barely managing to utter the words, “My birthmark? I thought it would…help,” she said, her voice rising once again as she nearly bounded from her chair. The only thing stopping her were the clothes on her lap, which she tried darn hard not to drop. “I would never have made that offer if I wasn’t desperate to find out who I am, you idiot.” She barely contained her temper, but she did take a swat at his arm. His well-honed instincts must have kicked in, because he jerked away quickly.

  Mac laughed then, a full-out, deep laugh, and the change in his face was astounding—so much so that for a moment Jane forgot all about her anger. She stared at him, her heart doing major flips. Oh God, she thought wryly, he’s gorgeous. Amazing.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Jane. It’s the best offer I’ve had in five years.”

  Jane sank back down in her seat, staring at him and shaking her head. “Only five?” she said with sarcasm. Despite her cutting remark, she was still awed by the transformation on the lawman’s face. And the fact that he had stayed single all this time.

  Mac took hold of the clothes she’d brought outside, removing them from her lap. “Beer, bubble baths and bad temper. At least we’re learning something about you, Jane.”

  She countered quickly, “And to think I was beginning to believe the good sheriff wasn’t human.”

  Where had that come from? Jane chided herself on her cynical tongue. The words just poured out of her. And she learned that when backed in a corner, she came out fighting.

  Mac’s smile faded and he pierced her with dark probing eyes. He spoke in a low, sexy tone, more like a whisper meant for her ears alone. “Believe me, I’m human. That birthmark of yours will be in my dreams tonight.”

  He kept his eyes focused on hers, but the heat of his stare and the implication of his words poured through her like molten lava.

  “Oh,” she said quietly, fully aware of the sparks igniting between them. But it seemed they both came to their senses at the same time. They leaned back in their chairs, and Mac began examining her clothes.

  The moment had come and gone, and Jane was grateful. She didn’t need any complications right now. Admitting that Mac Riggs was an interesting and appealing man was one thing, but allowing anything to develop between them was something else again. How could she? She didn’t know who she was or where she belonged.

  “Lizzie said your clothes were high-end.” Mac became all business again, studying the designer label on her jeans.

  “I suppose.”

  He ran his hands up and down the material, then looked inside the waistband.

  “Size five.”

  Jane rolled her eyes. Didn’t the man know not to announce to the world a woman’s dress size? After her last few sardonic remarks to him, she decided not to comment.

  “Why do women spend a fortune on Gucci and Guess and Ralph Lauren, when Levi’s works just fine?” He glanced at her jeans and nodded.

  “Maybe because women want to look better than ‘just fine.’”

  Mac grunted.

  Then he lifted her watch and brought it close to his face, examining the diamond. “Pretty good size diamond in there.” He flipped it over. “No inscription.”

  He set the pants and the watch on the table and moved on to examine her sweater. “Why would you be wearing a sweater, cashmere no less, in the middle of June?”

  She shrugged, her frustration mounting. Nothing in her possession seemed to lead to any clues as to her identity. “I don’t know, but I got the feeling that I’d been in my clothes a long time.”

  “Meaning?”

  “That maybe I slept in them. Or traveled in them a long while. I’m not sure.”

  Mac drew oxygen into his lungs. “Maybe. That could mean you came a long way. If you traveled during the night, you’d most likely need warmer clothes. That would explain the sweater. And the fact that you don’t know much about Colorado in June. Hell, it gets sweltering hot here during the day this time of year.”

  “That’s not much to go on, is it?”

  Mac sipped his coffee, staring out into his backyard, contemplating. “It’s something, at least.”

  Then he glanced her way. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re from this area at all.”

  “Why?”

  “Just a hunch.” Then he lifted her wide, black suede belt and studied it. “This isn’t a western belt. Won’t fit through any loops. In fact, it looks pretty darn expensive.”

  Jane didn’t have any answers. She couldn’t respond. She felt at such a loss, as if trying to put together a puzzle where none of the pieces seemed to fit.

  She took her first sip of Mac’s mean cup of coffee. “Not bad, Sheriff Riggs.”

  “Is there a compliment somewhere in there?”

  “I won’t lie. This is good coffee.”

  He nodded, sipping from his own cup. “Thanks.”

  He set the belt down beside the rest of her things and stood up. Jane hadn’t the nerve to let him see her underwear. She’d kept them hidden in her room. She couldn’t stand to let Mac know that she’d worn a teeny, minuscule scrap of material that one might mistake as underpants.

  That was just too much information for the sheriff to have.

  “I’ll take you by the station in the morning and we’ll get started on your case.”

  Jane rose, picking up her things and hugging them to her chest. They were all she had in the world right now. She felt the evening coming to an end, and she needed the comfort. “Okay.”

  “Well, good night.” Mac tipped his head in a brief nod of farewell.

  But Jane couldn’t let him go. Not before she apologized. She’d been
out of line, and he deserved more for all he’d done for her. “Wait. I, uh, can’t say good night without apologizing for how I behaved earlier.”

  Mac smiled then, with a quick flash of white teeth and full lips. “Don’t apologize, Jane. I haven’t had a good laugh in way too long.”

  “Really?” she asked, puzzled. “What was so funny?”

  “You,” he said. “No one’s dared call me an idiot since I was nine years old. Back then, I bloodied the kid’s nose and got sent to the principal’s office.”

  “Oh,” she said, realizing her sharp tongue had indeed insulted the sheriff. “Now I really feel bad.”

  Mac grabbed her hand and squeezed, ready to say something. But just then they heard a car pull up. “That’ll be Lizzie,” he said, dropping her hand and stepping back. And within a minute, Lizzie had their full attention.

  “I guessed at the size,” Mac’s sister said, displaying half a dozen items of lingerie that she’d purchased for Jane. She’d also bought a hairbrush, comb and toothbrush, as well as a small travel kit filled with lotion and shampoo, lip gloss and other makeup essentials. “You needed some things of your own, especially something to wear to bed tonight.”

  Jane cleared her throat, glancing at the personal items Lizzie had laid out on the kitchen table as Mac lodged himself against the counter, watching. So many emotions whirled around inside her that she had trouble naming them all—gratitude, for one, but embarrassment as well, along with an uncanny sense of helplessness. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t possibly pay for these right now.”

  “It’s okay, Jane. Call it a loan. Besides,” Lizzie said, looking over Jane’s head to wink at her brother, “I put them all on Mac’s credit card.”

  Jane whipped her head around to find him shrugging.

  Lizzie took her hand and squeezed gently. “It’s okay. Mac’s got more money than Donald Trump. The only difference is that my brother doesn’t flaunt what he has. He can afford it.”

  Jane eyed the pretty pink nightie, a matching lightweight robe and four pair of underpants, each a different style, from full cotton panties to a lacy red thong, with the others in between.