Dani Sinclair - The Sheriff Gets His Lady

Noah hadn’t paid the car any attention when he’d driven past, other than to note how out of place it looked. He hadn’t seen anyone inside and assumed the driver was with the vet. Now the tension inside him began to unfurl. Thank God for Alma’s warning.

While he doubted a private investigator would spring for an expensive luxury car to drive around in, one never knew. As soon as he was close enough, he made a mental note of the plate number. Then he walked up beside the car and peered inside.

“May I help you with something?”

Her sultry voice did a slow crawl up his spine. He lifted his head and drank in the view of the woman standing behind him. She was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. There was no mistaking her for a resident even if he hadn’t known everyone by name in a hundred-mile radius. The woman looked more out of place than her car. Five-seven, he’d estimate, slender, but not without some nicely placed curves. Grace Kelly came to mind with those cheekbones and that glowing skin. The woman’s hair was cut to her chin in a style that looked expensively chic, yet artfully simple. The style suited her.

“Just looking,” he told her as he adjusted the brim of his hat and watched in puzzlement as her body seemed to tighten in recognition. He’d swear she was a total stranger, yet her body language said otherwise.

The shaft of unexpected and unwanted desire caught him unprepared. He wondered if she felt the pull of this sudden chemistry, as well. Dressed in a navy pantsuit that fit as if it had been designed just for her, she managed to look completely feminine, yet at the same time conveyed a sense of professionalism. His gaze was drawn to the V of her open-necked, white silk shirt, which stopped just short of the nicely rounded curves of her breasts.

“Like it?” she asked coolly.

Her voice was soft velvet wrapped around spikes of steel. The voice made him think of other soft things he’d like to wrap around steel. Uncomfortably embarrassed to be caught staring, he tried for a smile. “What’s not to like?”

Spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “I meant the car.”

He tipped his head to one side and let his smile widen. “So did I.”

For a moment, she seemed disconcerted, but her cool mask quickly settled back into place. No wonder Alma didn’t like her. Few women would. And most men would feel intimidated—the ones who didn’t see her as prey. He had to rein in a pretty strong predatory feeling of his own. The woman was class, yet she gave off an aura of sensuality that reached inside him and grabbed him where he lived. And all with no effort on her part.

Behind the dark lenses of her glasses, he sensed her assessing his faded work jeans, matching jacket, boots and plaid shirt. Fingering the brim of his hat, Noah figured he failed her fashion test hands-down. He’d spent the past few hours under the hood of his truck. Fashion hadn’t come into his choice of clothing, and it didn’t worry him now.

“We don’t see many cars like this one around here,” he said.

Her head inclined toward the line of pickup trucks dwarfing the car. “I’ve noticed.”

“We don’t see many strangers in town, either,” he said, inviting her to share her reasons for being here.

“Don’t tell me you’re the welcoming committee.”

Strands of soft blond hair shimmered in the sunlight as she tossed her head. He found himself watching with interest as each lock fell smoothly back into place as though well trained.

“Nope, but I admit I’m curious. There isn’t much to lure visitors to Darwin Crossing.”

“You might be surprised.” Her words seemed to startle her. She started forward briskly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

He blocked her by the simple expedient of turning around directly into her path. She bumped his shoulder and jumped back as if scalded.

“Is there a problem here, Sheriff?”

As a law enforcement official, he’d met this sort of defensiveness before. Lots of people didn’t like cops for all sorts of reasons. Problem was, she shouldn’t know his occupation. He wasn’t wearing his uniform.

“Now, how could you know I’m the sheriff?”

He watched with interest as the color faded from her cheeks. He fought down an urge to remove those dark sunglasses so he could see the eyes beneath. What color would they be? And what would they reveal?

“I saw you in uniform the other day.”

The keen anticipation that had been building inside him shut down instantly at those words. He hadn’t been in uniform since he picked Lauren up at the airport a couple of days ago. At least a full day before Alma said the stranger had come to town. He leaned back against the door to her car. “Is that right? Which day would that be, exactly?”

“I’m not... Does it matter?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Why?”

“Alma tells me you’ve been hanging around the past couple of days.”

“Alma being...?”

“The woman who runs the café.”

“Ah. That Alma.”

She’d regained her composure, and this time her look was designed to reduce a man to the level of cow manure.

“So what seems to be the problem, Sheriff? Tips not generous enough?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He came off the car and closed the distance between them, deliberately using his body to intimidate her. “But I would like to know why you’re here in town and how you know who I am,” he said with deceptive softness.

He was unaccountably pleased that she held her ground. This was not a woman who would be easily intimidated. His reflection stared back at him from the mirrored sunglasses. He had a feeling he’d be seeing sparks flashing if he could see her eyes.

If she was a private investigator for the Rossiters, they were obviously hiring unusual new talent. No surprise there. They had plenty of money.

Noah put her age somewhere near thirty. Up close, her skin was flawless, her makeup so carefully applied as to appear nonexistent. And as the breeze shifted direction, the air carried a subtle hint of fragrance—something delicately feminine. Soft. Unobtrusive. Almost elusively compelling.

Just like the woman herself.

He found himself relaxing despite his instincts to the contrary. He didn’t want to like her, even if he admired her spunk. And he sure didn’t want to be attracted to her, yet it was hard to prevent. Noah chided himself for being mildly distracted by the rise and fall of her chest. She’d gone back to looking unruffled, but he could almost hear her thoughts whirling.

“If you must know, Sheriff, I’m here sketching.”

He’d give her points for originality, but she’d lose on the delivery. He didn’t have to see her eyes to know they’d be shifting away on that answer.

“Not much scenery here in town,” he said mildly.

“You’d be surprised.”

Her tone was dry, but her meaning unmistakable. He was the scenery she was talking about.

He knew women found him attractive. His daughter had once come home after a dance to gleefully inform him that he was considered the catch of the county. Now that same sense of embarrassment crawled over his skin at her deliberate stare.

She lifted her chin and her expression became serious. “I’m not sketching scenery, Sheriff,” she said. “I’m a clothing designer. I came here to soak up some atmosphere for a new winter line.”

Noah didn’t have to ponder that one. “This is February.”

Sky found herself on the verge of smiling. She caught herself in the nick of time. This strangely compelling attraction she felt was dangerous. The sheriff was the sort of man a woman spun fantasies about, the kind of man they put on billboards to convince men—and the women in their lives—that some product could make them look like him.