Taming Deputy Harlow

by Jennifer Morey

  “I—I appreciate your concern, but...”

  “Reese. Please. I’ll be considerate of your need for space. The hotel is public. You’ll be safer there. Just stay until your renovations are finished and your security alarm is installed.” That should give him enough time to win her over, if winning a woman like her was even possible.

  He waited while she thought it over.

  Ella had somehow taken into her possession a large sum of money, hidden it and didn’t have time to spend any of it. Now someone had learned Reese had discovered the nest egg and had tried to take it. What bothered Jamie most was that it seemed the intruder had known where to look. But that would imply he’d known where Ella had hidden the money. Why not try to steal it long before now? Why wait?

  The intruder hadn’t known where to look. Maybe the location of the first find had tipped him off to look in other unexpected places. He’d known there was more money than what Reese had found. Jamie imagined him looking for secret passages or closed spaces. He could have tapped walls. The floors had all been redone, so he wouldn’t have looked there. The construction workers would have discovered more money.

  “I’m not comfortable staying in a hotel room with you, but you can stay here,” Reese finally said.

  He’d take that. Her agreement felt like a milestone. He hoped her invitation to stay at her house wasn’t just for safety reasons.

  “Let’s go put this money somewhere safe and get my things. Then we should start questioning the locals who lived here when Ella was killed.”

  “I’ll have to get a bigger safe-deposit box.” Reese yawned. “Or get more than one.”

  Jamie realized why. “Did you get any sleep last night?” He stepped closer and brushed his hand along the side of her face, moving the strands of hair back. She had such a beautiful face.

  Her eyes met his for a few seconds. “No.”

  “Why don’t you go lie down for a while? We’ll take care of the money later.”

  A look of sheer pleasure lightened her face. “I would love that.”

  “Why don’t you take a bath first?” He started for the lower level bedroom. “I’ll start it for you.”

  “That isn’t necessary.” She trailed him into her bedroom, as though lured by temptation.

  No, not necessary to help her rest, but an opportunity to explore how much each of them had fallen for each other during that one night in Wyoming.

  “When’s the last time you let someone take care of you?” He entered her bedroom, careful to keep this casual.

  “Let?” With childlike hesitance, she stood just inside the bedroom door.

  He could see her struggle with letting go. “No wonder you covet your independence so much. You didn’t learn any other way growing up.” He went into the bathroom.

  She came to the bathroom door. “You think you know me.”

  “Just let someone take care of you. Just once. Let me. Now. This moment.”

  Her eyes lowered, head angled slightly, and then she looked at his eyes. He could feel her respond and fight the reaction.

  “Think of me as your brother,” he said.

  She snorted a cynical laugh. “That will be impossible.”

  As he reached down to start the bath, she leaned against the sink counter. Seeing her soft smile, he took heart that his instinct was on target. She may have plans that didn’t include a steady boyfriend, but she wasn’t immune to him as a man.

  “I don’t have a brother.” Her eyes glinted with teasing.

  “Use your imagination.”

  “That could be dangerous.”

  The tub began to fill.

  “When’s the last time you let someone take care of you? You didn’t answer before.” And he really wanted to know.

  Eyes falling low, she drew a small line with her big toe in the bathroom rug. Then finally looked up. “My mother. When I was sick.”

  “No other times? She didn’t pamper you for no reason?” She’d touched on the aloofness of her parents before.

  “She told me where the medicine was.”

  And that had been her mother’s way of taking care of her? What kind of childhood did she have?

  “Did she love you?”

  Her mouth opened as though the notion her mother didn’t love her was absurd. “Of course. She just... She had a different way of parenting than some of my friends’ parents did. She told me she loved me. Combed my hair. Braided it. Made me chocolate milk and threw me birthday parties.”

  “She did what she was supposed to do but the feeling was missing? What about your father?”

  Reese started to walk out of the bathroom. Jamie stopped her with an arm across the doorway.

  Slowly she looked over at him. “He gave me an allowance and took us to family outings. Camping. Movies. Town events.”

  “But he didn’t talk to you? About the important things?”

  “My mother did that.”

  “You weren’t close to your father, then.”

  “They loved me,” she insisted.

  Jamie didn’t want to be harsh, but he had to say the truth. She needed to hear it. He put his hand on her upper arm, making sure she met his eyes.

  “I’m sure they wanted to.”

  He would never in his wildest dreams have imagined that the source of her extreme need for independence stemmed from being raised by parents who wanted children, but hadn’t anticipated the difference between having their own and adopting or how that would affect them. He was sure they meant well and the desire to have a child had been real and they had thought they could love the same way. But they hadn’t. Some people couldn’t. He didn’t hold it against them and he hoped Reese wouldn’t, either.

  “They loved me,” she insisted again, weaker this time.

  “Yes. In their own way, as you said.” From a distance. Close but not as close as Reese seemed to have needed.

  Maybe her parents had convinced themselves that the hole from being unable to conceive on their own was filled with Reese. But the brutal truth was it wasn’t.

  He didn’t want to hurt Reese. But he understood—probably more than she did—why she’d reached out to find her real parents. Her dad.

  Putting his hands on each side of her face, he brought his mouth close to hers, a deliberate distraction, a strategy, something he hoped would work in his favor. Her stubborn denial lost its strength. When her eyes drooped and she tipped her head back to accommodate his height, a surge of passion coursed through him.

  He kissed her softly, just a touch and a brush of his lips. Her quickened breathing and flexing fingers on his shoulders told him she felt it as much as him. He kissed her awhile longer, until he couldn’t hold back anymore. And neither could she.

  Lifting his head, he watched her open her eyes and look up at him. “Your bath is ready.”

  She stepped back, eyeing him warily and maybe with a little confusion. Good. Confusion was good. She was growing past her old ideals, what she’d perceived as right for her.

  A nagging feeling persisted in him that he could be wrong. She might be moved by him, his efforts, but would it be enough to change her mind?

  He left her alone for her bath. When he heard the tub draining, he thought she’d stay in her room. He wouldn’t push her more than he thought she could take all at once. When she appeared in her nightgown in the opening to the great room, a wave of satisfaction swept him. She wouldn’t turn him away. What he’d shed light on had made a difference, softened her.

  “I’d rather not be alone tonight,” she said. “The break-in shook me up more than I thought.”

  Was she blaming her vulnerability on that? He stood from his reclined position on the couch and went to her.

  “I don’t want to...you know. Just...”

 
“I get it. You wouldn’t have put on that nightgown if you had that intent.”

  He stripped to his underwear as she crawled into bed, watching him with the covers to her chin as he joined her.

  “Come here.” He opened his arms for her and she cuddled close.

  Hearing her deep sigh and feeling her muscles relax so that her body molded to his, he fought a mighty urge to roll on top of her.

  “I think you’re right about my parents,” she said quietly. “But they do love me.”

  “I know. Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

  * * *

  Reese still felt out of sorts the next day. She felt stiff and as if she was operating on autopilot. Having Jamie nearby gave her a warm glow, stronger than when they’d had dinner and then lunch. A connection seemed to be growing, one that made her nervous.

  She’d gotten up before Jamie and cleared out the office for the construction workers so they could work on the walls. Then she’d stayed with the construction workers while he’d gone to buy breakfast. That had taken some arguing. Just because she had a break-in didn’t mean he had to guard her 24/7. Even though she secretly liked how much he cared.

  Now they headed for the doors of the town grange, where the weekly bingo game took place. All day she’d been plagued with thoughts she wished she could expunge from her head.

  The things Jamie had made her realize didn’t settle well with her. She felt like she didn’t know herself anymore. Who had that kid been who’d grown up in the Harlow residence? She had tons of good memories. Fun memories. There had been lots of laughter and support. Both her mom and dad had been there for her at all the big stages of her life. Getting her period. Boys. Challenging schoolwork. Graduating from high school and college.

  Jamie had struck a chord when he’d called out their good intentions not measuring up to the reality of her adoption. Her parents had loved her. They’d loved having a child in their home. But nothing would change the fact that they’d lost their ability to have their own child, something they had deeply desired and must have felt immense disappointment to learn they couldn’t do. Maybe they’d never gotten over it, even if they didn’t realize it. They might have convinced themselves that having Reese was enough, and in all the ways that mattered, it was. Reese was the next best thing to a biological child. Her parents had never treated her that way, but the truth lay buried.

  Is that why she’d sought out her real parents? Reese did not like admitting she hadn’t been close to her adoptive father. She hadn’t been. He’d always put on a smile for her and had always encouraged her and supported her. But she couldn’t recall a single time when the two of them connected. Sure, they had been there at important stages of her growth, but it had felt almost mechanical, now that she thought of it. She remembered him as an optimist who liked his work and the people in town. Now that she analyzed it, he treated her the same as everyone else. If not for her mother’s need to have a child, Reese doubted her father would have adopted anyone. He never expressed his feelings and she had never felt open to tell him hers. He never told her he loved her, either. Her mother had, and Reese believed she did love her. Her father cared for her and her mother loved her. But maybe that hadn’t been enough. For Reese. As she’d told Jamie, they had loved her in their own way. But it had not been real. That was the part she had difficulty accepting.

  “You’re awfully quiet.”

  They reached the grange doors. She opened one and stepped inside.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes. Fine.” She scanned the room of mostly older people sitting at long tables with a man behind a podium reading letters and numbers, glad to be back to work. Music played at a low volume through speakers where a DJ sat behind his kiosk. This was no ordinary bingo game. Never Summer treated this like a night out on the town. They took breaks to dance and some drank alcohol. Two men sat on stools around a tall, round table, clearly only there while their wives played bingo. The room next to this had been converted into a theater. She could hear a movie playing, deep bass rumbling at a low level.

  “N, forty-one,” the sixtysomething man behind the podium said into a microphone. Above his head on the wall, a big sign read Death Bingo Night. Losers Win All. The object of this game was not to win bingo. The player with the most spaces filled before getting a bingo won.

  Reese jabbed Jamie with her elbow, not hard, just enough to get his attention. “That’s Bert at the bar. He was married five times and met them all at bars in other cities. He met his latest wife while vacationing in Texas. She left him a few months ago and moved back to her hometown.” She covertly indicated another man sitting at one of the middle tables with his wife. “That’s Harold. He lost his first wife to cancer just before Ella’s murder. He remarried almost twelve years later. That’s her next to him.”

  “B, fourteen.”

  “Let’s talk to Bert first.” Jamie started toward the man.

  “Don’t you want to play bingo?”

  “Do you?”

  She elbowed him again, wishing she hadn’t. “I was teasing.” She felt like she was flirting. His big, fit body made it hard not to. When she’d first awakened, she got hot all over with just the realization she was in bed with him. Then the rest of the day, every time she encountered him, she had the same reaction, an automatic attraction she couldn’t control. And then, of course, the way he looked at her sometimes may as well have been a physical caress. His eyes held so much masculine certainty, as though he saw through her to the woman who’d shared one firecracker of a night with him and the promise all that explosiveness held.

  “Hey, Bert,” she said, greeting the older man.

  He turned on the stool and his smile didn’t change his sad eyes. A man who had never found true love looked back at her.

  “Reese. I didn’t know you played bingo.”

  “I didn’t know you did, either.”

  “I don’t.” He held up the glass of dark liquid, some kind of whiskey.

  “O, seventy.”

  “You and Jeffrey were friends, weren’t you?”

  Bert studied her for a time. “This have anything to do with that money you found?”

  “Maybe. I’ve reopened Ella’s case.” Actually, it had never been closed.

  “Oh. Am I a suspect?” He laughed at what he must have intended to be a joke.

  “No. We’re just trying to pick up some new information.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “Did the sheriff or anyone else talk to you back then?”

  “No. No need to. I knew Jeffrey, not his wife. I met her a couple of times and that’s it. Jeffrey didn’t go out much after he met her. Those two were smitten.”

  She had heard that from many people. “Do you know of any other of Jeffrey’s and Ella’s friends? Maybe someone Ella met when she first arrived in Never Summer?”

  He thought a moment and then listed a few names, all of which she and Jamie already had on their list. “Most everyone knew him. Small town. From what I heard his neighbors were all questioned.”

  She asked him a few more questions before leaving him to his drink, then walked across the dance floor with Jamie.

  “I’ll ask Kadin to look into Ella’s past,” he said on the way out of the grange. “Maybe someone close to her was overlooked and not questioned or not questioned enough.”

  “Kadin?”

  “You asked him to look into the case.” He seemed confused by her hesitation.

  “Yes, but...” She endured an odd feeling, a torn, restricted feeling. Again, she wondered how much she wanted him in her life, if at all. Maybe what bothered her most was that she didn’t fully understand why she’d found her biological parents, especially after her conversation with Jamie.

  “He’s here, you know.”

&n
bsp; She stopped in the middle of the dance floor to gape at him.

  “I don’t think I was supposed to tell you, but maybe you should know. He didn’t want to pressure you. He brought his family here for a vacation, and to see you.”

  Reese looked down and then across the bingo hall.

  “I, twenty-one.”

  “Bingo,” a disappointed face called, a victim of the death bingo game.

  “Hey.” Jamie used his finger to guide her face so she had to look up at him. She loved his height. “Don’t get upset. He won’t descend upon your life if you aren’t willing. But he would like to get to know the daughter he only recently discovered he had.”

  Jamie was either damn good at manipulating her or he understood way too much about her. She feared the latter more accurately pinned the answer. Right now, she didn’t care. She appreciated how he made light of it.

  “So, he’s not doing what you’re doing? Descending upon my life?”

  “I’m descending upon what we started in Wyoming.” With a sexy grin, he took her hand and slid the other around her waist as a snappy country Western song started.

  She laughed, delighted, as he swept her around the dance floor. At first they were the only couple out there, but many noticed and a few others trickled onto the floor to join them. She recognized all of them and enjoyed the fond looks she began to receive from the women.

  “Where did a city boy like you learn to two-step?” she asked to avoid paying attention to the others.

  “My mother loved to dance when I was a kid and she loved this kind of music even more.”

  “Couldn’t she dance with your father?”

  He slowed as he swung her for another turn.

  “I hail from Whitman Park in Camden, New Jersey.”

  Did he think that would explain everything? She waited, meeting his eyes and hoping her look would say all that was needed.

  He stopped dancing with the end of the song, but still held her close. “My father went to prison for armed robbery. He got twenty years but was released on parole after about ten. He went back to New Jersey and never tried to contact me or my mother. He was only trying to feed us all, but he made a bad choice. Prison changed him.”