The second choice was far more appealing; he’d dodged a bullet today, but he couldn’t risk her finding the ravine and the cars they’d dumped there, Molly’s right on top. Vincent had been suggesting for years that they cover the cars after they dumped them, but no one had ever thought it that important. Now he could see that they’d made a mistake. It wasn’t the only one either, since Amy had maps leading right to the ravine, probably from Molly’s cell phone signal, he realized.
Cursing himself for being so stupid, he drove back into town made a swing past the cabins to make sure Amy’s car was there, then headed back to the station. He got a lot of funny looks when he walked in, but no one said anything as he walked back to his office and sat down. Now on top of everything else, he was going to have to find a way to keep Amy in town, but when the thought came with a little thrill, he decided that of all the things he had to deal with, Amy was the most appealing.
***Amy***
Amy set her purse on the table, not bothering to look out the window to see if Miranda was still watching, knowing that she was. Well, the woman could watch all she wanted: she wasn’t leaving the cabin again, she thought, going over to the refrigerator and looking inside. She’d have dinner in tonight, go to bed early, and get a fresh start in the morning.
But her plans did nothing to alleviate the feeling of frustration that wouldn’t leave her. It had sprung to life when she saw the roadblock and hadn’t left her since then. Seeing her laptop open on the table, the papers still spread everywhere, she slammed the refrigerator door and walked over to the mess. The afternoon hadn’t been a total waste, she told herself. If Jimmy was telling the truth, then Molly never made it into Prospect Falls.
That meant that finding her car was the key to finding her. Then her stomach fell when she realized that if Molly never made it to town, something had happened to her along the road. All the possibilities swam through her mind, and none of them were good, so she pushed them out of her head. She’d just have to take this one step at a time.
Thinking about trouble made the sheriff pop into her mind, and she smiled despite the mild sense of suspicion that rose along with the little thrill of attraction. Shaking her head to clear the attraction, she focused on the feeling that the sheriff was up to something. She’d been at the gas station with Jimmy for a long time, and there hadn’t been any sirens or emergency vehicles leaving town—of that, she was sure.
Shaking her head again, she discarded what she was thinking, assuring herself that she wasn’t trapped in town; in fact, she’d gotten the impression that she wasn’t wanted. Feeling the frustration building again, she started to clean up the mess on the table when she realized that her laptop was open and the papers had been moved just a little bit. Knowing that she never left her computer open, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Miranda had been snooping in her room.
The roadblock suddenly took on a more sinister feel, and she started to panic. It wouldn’t be hard for the sheriff to make someone disappear if he wanted to; the town was cut off from the rest of the world, and there were plenty of places in the mountains to dispose of a body. Fear began to build, and she quickly gathered the papers, shut off the computer, and began to pack them up. It was time to get out of Prospect Falls. Molly would just have to wait a little longer.
She’d just set the computer bag on the floor by the door when someone knocked, making her jump and cry out. Staring at the door, she put her hand on her chest and felt her heart racing, the blood pounding through her veins making her feel light-headed. When she finally managed to get the door open, the sheriff was standing there looking even more attractive in the late afternoon sunshine.
This time, her heart raced for another reason, but she managed to squeak, “Sheriff, you scared me. I was standing right by the door.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, his eyes roaming over her body. “I just wanted to stop by and apologize for this afternoon. An old farmer from down the valley turned his truck full of chickens over on the road, and they were everywhere. Took my deputies quite a while to round them up, and I hope it didn’t spoil your day.”
“Oh,” she said, speechless for a moment as all the fear and panic drained away. “I hope no one was hurt.”
“No, not a single chicken was harmed,” he said, flashing her a silly grin.
She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “That’s good,” she said. “Thank you for coming by to tell me, Sheriff.”
“Michael, please,” he said, letting his eyes roam over her body again, sparking a thrill that made her shiver just a little.
“Michael,” she said, feeling her cheeks turning pink.
There was an awkward silence then, and she searched for something else to say, part of her wanting to keep Michael there for as long as she could. She finally looked up at him and their eyes met, sending a shock wave of electricity through her, stealing her breath and making her knees tremble just a little. Shocked at her reaction, she stumbled back a few steps, her breath coming in short gasps.
Michael stared at her for a few seconds more, then said. “This is going to sound strange, but I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner.”
“Oh, I...” she wasn’t sure what to say. “I was just going to eat here.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out two blue slips of paper. “I have two tickets to the spaghetti dinner at the high school, and I’m afraid one is going to go to waste unless you come with me.”
“Spaghetti?” she asked stupidly and wanted to cringe.
“Yeah, you know, that stuff that’s covered in tomato sauce and usually has meatballs sitting on top,” he said, but she could tell he was teasing her. “The high school holds one every month; it’s a fundraiser, but worth the price. They use the gym, bring in tables and stuff; there’s soft music and candles on all the tables. It’s kind of a big deal to get tickets.”
Amy couldn’t resist when he flashed her a smile. “Well, then I guess I can’t refuse,” she said.
“Good. I’ll be back to pick you up in an hour,” he said, grinned at her once more then turned and headed back to his car.
She shut the door slowly, then leaned against it, her heart beating frantically in her chest, pretty sure the sheriff had just asked her out on a date. All thought of leaving gone from her mind, she ran back to her bedroom and began digging through her suitcase, hoping to find something to wear. To her relief, she found a dress she’d shoved in at the last minute and headed for the shower.
Chapter Eight
***Michael***
Michael pulled up in front of Amy’s cabin an hour later, showered and dressed in normal clothes. It almost felt like a real date. But as attractive as Amy was, that hadn’t been why he asked her to the spaghetti dinner. He needed to find out why she had maps of the ravine and if she’d really traced Molly’s phone all this way. Once those questions were answered, he’d know how to proceed; to decide if he needed to call Adam and Molly—something he’d been forbidden to do unless the circumstances were dire.
Amy exposing them to the rest of the world seemed like a good reason, but he’d have to be sure before he made that call, and that’s what dinner was all about. But as he approached the door, butterflies erupted in his stomach, and he suddenly felt as nervous as a kid on his first date. Lifting his hand to knock, he reminded himself that this was a purely professional dinner: a way to get information from Amy.
When she opened the door and a thrill rushed through him, he knew that he was kidding himself. Dressed in a form-fitting black sheath, boots on her feet, her brown hair spilling across her shoulders in shining waves, she took his breath away. He let his eyes travel over her body, unable to stop himself, then met her blue eyes.
“You look very nice,” he said, his voice husky to his ears.
Amy’s face turned pink. She ran her tongue over her lips, desire blossoming in her eyes, and he was tempted to pull her into his arms. “Thank you,” she stammered. �
��You look nice too.”
“Are you ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.
She took his hand and he enveloped it in his larger one, feeling a tingle travel up his arm then spread through his body. He helped her climb into the truck, then shut the door and went around to the driver’s side and got in, started it up, and pulled away from the cabins. They rode the few blocks to the high school in silence; for the first time in his life, he couldn’t think of anything to say.
When he pulled up in front of the school, it was a relief to get out and open the door for her. “Here we are, Prospect Falls High School,” he said, gesturing to the hundred-year-old building.
“Oh, what a wonderful building,” Amy said, taking his hand when he offered it.
“This was the only school in town for a long time,” he explained. “When the middle and elementary schools were finally added, there was talk of tearing it down, but wiser heads prevailed, and it was saved.”
“Almost everything in town is old,” Amy said. “How long has it been here?”
“We’ll be celebrating our two hundredth birthday in a few weeks,” he said, leading her down the hallway to the gym.
“Wow, two hundred years is a long time,” Amy said, then started to add something else, but they walked through the gym doors and she closed her mouth.
Michael hadn’t been to the spaghetti dinner in a long time and had almost forgotten how the gym was transformed into a magical place once a month. He nudged her gently inside, then stood behind her as she took in the room, a feeling of anticipation he couldn’t explain filling him.
Amy looked over her shoulder and up at him. “Now I understand why the tickets are so hard to get; this is amazing,” she said, beaming from ear to ear.
“Wait until you taste the food,” he said, putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her inside.
There was a moment when he wondered if everyone was going to stop and stare at them, but he glared at the crowd, and they quickly went back to their conversations. He led Amy to a table in the back corner and held out her chair, unable to stop himself from looking down her dress when she sat. The sight of her plump breasts was all it took to get his imagination working, and he had to banish several thoughts from his mind as he took his place across from her.
Wondering if stepping into the school had somehow made him regress to a teenager, he tried to control his wild thoughts. But then he made the mistake of looking at Amy’s breasts again, and the tingling was back, only stronger. Knowing that he had to distract himself, and fast, he tried to focus on the reason he’d asked her out in the first place. He couldn’t just come out and ask about Molly; he’d have to find the connection between them.
When they’d been served drinks and a basket of piping hot bread dripping with a garlic butter sauce, he put a piece on Amy’s plate, let her take a bite, and waited, a knowing smile on his face. As soon as the bread was in her mouth, she moaned and closed her eyes, and the tingle was back—along with several new images that almost made him blush. Disgusted with himself, he took a bite of his bread, washed it down with a huge gulp of wine, then took a deep breath.
“So, tell me, Amy,” he said, striving to get control. “What do you do when you’re not traveling?”
***Amy***
Amy was caught off guard by Michael’s question, her only thought of the bread melting in her mouth. She opened her eyes, feeling her cheeks turn pink. “Sorry, but that has to be one of the best things I’ve ever eaten in my entire life,” she said.
Michael laughed, but it sounded forced, and she noticed that he had a strained look on his face. “Are you okay?” she asked.
He nodded. “Just swallowed that wrong,” he said. “I asked what you do for a living.”
“Nothing as exciting as you,” she said. “I’m a professor of English literature in New York.”
“That sounds interesting,” he said. “Let me guess: your field of study is Austin, the Bronte Sisters, and, let’s see, Virginia Wolf?”
His voice was full of mischief and she knew that he was kidding. “Very funny,” she said. “Are you trying to make me mad or show off your knowledge?”
“Neither. I’m just trying to make you laugh,” he said, grinning at her. “Your eyes light up when you laugh; did you know that?”
Amy could feel herself blushing and looked away, relieved to see their food coming. She took several deep breaths while their server had Michael distracted and wondered if she’d ever felt quite this way on a date. It was entirely possible she was making a fool of herself and Michael had just been being nice when he invited her. A man like him couldn’t possibly be interested in her. But then she remembered the look in his eyes when he saw her tonight, and a thrill washed through her.
She’d begun to think that her chances of finding someone to love were quickly passing her by, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure, and she shivered with anticipation. They ate in a silence punctuated with only her occasional sigh of pleasure until the mounds of pasta on their plates had shrunken and she began to feel stuffed.
“I don’t think I can eat any more even though I want to,” she finally said, setting her fork down. “Maybe I can take it with me.”
“You barely ate any,” Michael said, twirling more pasta onto his fork.
“That’s a lot of food,” she said. “A girl my age has to watch her figure.”
There was a brief silence, and she wished she’d kept the last comment to herself, but then Michael looked directly into her eyes and said, “From where I’m sitting, your figure looks pretty good.”
Another thrill washed through her, stealing her breath and making her heart pound in her chest. “Thank you,” she stammered, not used to compliments from men.
“So, English literature?” Michael prompted.
She took a deep breath, feeling the desire that had erupted so suddenly begin to fade. She finally nodded. “But it’s not what you think. I teach a unique class; it’s a bit out of the norm, but the college was looking for a class that would appeal to more than just women.”
“Now you have me intrigued,” Michael said, setting down his fork and signaling the server that they were done.
When the plates were cleared, she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not that exciting,” she said. “In fact, you’ll probably think it’s silly.”
“Try me,” Michael said, his eyes full of curiosity.
“I teach a class about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table,” she said, studying him for a second before going on. “You know, dragons and maidens in distress.”
Michael didn’t say anything for a second, then added, “The search for the Holy Grail.”
She shook her head. “No, that came later; the literature we study dates farther back than that,” she said. “It’s an upper-level class.”
“Why King Arthur?” he asked, so focused on her that he didn’t see the server arrive with their desert.
“My grandmother was English, and she loved to tell stories about King Arthur. My favorites were the ones with Merlin in them,” she said. “I’d spend hours just sitting at her feet listening to her stories during the summers I spent with her. She had a way of making it all seem so real. Dragons that breathed fire, knights fighting battles to the death, then magically brought back by Merlin. At night, I’d dream of going back in time and experiencing it all for myself.”
Amy realized how childish she sounded and stopped. “Sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear all that,” she said. “I just get caught up sometimes.”
Michael was staring at her, a strange look on his face. “That’s okay. I think I understand,” he said, then smiled at her. “So, did you dream of being a damsel in distress like in the stories?”
Amy felt herself blushing and decided it was time to shift the conversation. “That’s enough about me and my obsession with King Arthur and Merlin,” she said. “Tell me something about you. How long have you been sheriff?”
“I took over
for my dad about a year and half ago,” he said. “We lost him to an accident.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Michael,” she said, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm.
A tingle of electricity spread through her when he covered it with his. “I still miss him, but the job keeps me busy, and my mother is still around to drive me crazy,” he said.
“I guess you’ve lived here all your life,” she said, thinking about what it would be like to live in such a small town.
He nodded. “Born and raised,” he said. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Amy thought back to the summers she’d spent with her grandmother and realized that part of the reason she’d been attracted to Prospect Falls was that it reminded her of the little village in England where her grandmother lived. “It’s seems like a nice little town,” she said.
Michael laughed. “I’m surprised to hear you say that. I got the feeling people weren’t very nice to you when you first came to town,” he said.
She blushed. “Well, it is a small town. I guess it’s to be expected,” she said. “People were just curious to know why I was here.”
Amy wanted to slap her hand over her mouth; she’d been trying hard to avoid talking about why she was in town. But she’d opened up the door, so it was no surprise when Michael asked, “Why are you here?”
Chapter Nine
***Michael***
Michael wanted to take the question back, hadn’t meant to be so blunt, and the look on Amy’s face didn’t make him feel any better. But the momentary panic quickly disappeared, and she composed herself. “Honestly, I needed a break. My classes haven’t been going that well, low enrollment, bad end of the class surveys, all those things that professors dread. So, I decided that an adventure was what I needed, and here I am.”
Dragon Mate's Secret (Guardian Dragons 0f Prospect Falls Book 2) Page 5
