Michelle Major - Coming Home To Crimson

“I’m sorry, officer,” she said automatically, fanning her hand in front of her face. “I was having a bit of trouble taking off my jacket around the seat belt. I’ll be more careful.”

“License and registration, ma’am.”

The rumbly voice gave her pause and she sat back, glancing up into the face of a man who could have been the direct descendent of some Wild West lawman. The firm set of his jaw and rugged good looks seemed like a throwback to the era of John Wayne, although he wore a modern law enforcement uniform of a beige button-down and black tie, khaki pants and a gun clearly tucked into the holster at his waist.

The button clipped above his shirt pocket read Sheriff. Okay then, the real deal.

And not feeling all that friendly, if the tight line of his mouth was any indication. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the mirrored aviator sunglasses but imagined he was glaring at her.

“Of course,” she said and pulled her wallet out of the Louis Vuitton purse on the passenger seat.

“You know texting and driving is against the law,” he said as she handed him her driver’s license.

“I was having some sort of bizarre hot flash,” she blurted. “Not texting.” Even now she could feel the silk tank top clinging to her skin. “Anger induced, not hormonal,” she felt compelled to add, her cheeks flaming.

One thick brow lifted above the frame of his sunglasses, and Sienna resisted the urge to fidget.

“You were also driving twenty miles above the speed limit.”

“I certainly was not.” Sienna rolled her eyes. “I’d never drive that fast.”

“Ma’am—”

She pointed a finger at him. “I don’t like your tone when you call me ma’am.”

“I clocked you at eighty-five and it’s a sixty-five mile an hour zone that drops to forty-five as you come into town.” He paused, then added, “Ma’am.”

Sparks raced across Sienna’s skin. Somehow his tone had gone from patronizing to sexy-as-hell in one word. She had no idea what had possessed her to try to goad this small-town sheriff into a reaction, but her body’s response to him was totally unexpected.

And bothersome.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “This isn’t my car so I’m not used to how it drives.” The truth was she’d been too preoccupied with mentally trash-talking her cheating ex-boyfriend to realize she was driving recklessly. Kevin’s fault, as well.

“Who does the car belong to?”

“I don’t know.” She flipped open the glove compartment. “I assume it’s a rental. I took it from my ex-boyfriend.”

The sheriff leaned forward, his hands resting above the driver’s side window. The fabric of his shirt pulled tight across his arms, revealing the outline of corded muscles. “As in you stole it?”

“No,” she answered immediately. “I... It wasn’t quite like that.” She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. In fact, it was exactly like that.

She’d taken a private shuttle from the Aspen airport to the upscale hotel where Kevin had made a reservation. She’d originally been scheduled to come on this trip with him, three days in the mountains of Colorado with a few meetings thrown in to make it a legitimate business expense. Sienna hadn’t been back to Colorado in almost two decades, and to make a trip so soon after her estranged brother’s visit to Chicago last year... Well, it had been too much to even consider.

Yet in the end, she couldn’t stay away. Kevin had acted so disappointed she wasn’t coming, dropping subtle hints that he’d planned to pop the question in Aspen. So she’d taken a red-eye into Denver, then a commuter plane to Aspen, thinking how fun it would be to surprise him.

She’d surprised him all right, in bed with another woman. Could it get more clichéd than that? Her life had been reduced to a cliché.

“How about we start with the registration?” the sheriff asked, his voice gentling as if somehow he could sense what a mess she was on the inside.

That infuriated her even more. Sienna didn’t do vulnerable. People around her saw what she wanted them to see, and the thought that this mountain-town Mayberry lawman could see beyond her mask made her want to lash out at someone. Anyone. Sheriff Hot Pants, for one.

She dipped her chin and looked up at him through her lashes, flashing a small, knowing smile. “How about I write a healthy-size check to the police foundation or your favorite charity...” She winked. “Or you for that matter and we both go on our merry way?”

“Are you offering me a bribe?”

She widened her smile. “Call it an incentive.”

The sheriff took off his sunglasses, shoving them into his front shirt pocket. His eyes were brown, the color of warm honey, but his gaze was frigid. “How’s the thought of being arrested as an incentive for you to hand me the registration?”

He smiled as he asked the question. His full lips revealed a set of perfectly straight teeth in a way that made him look like some sort of predator. “Or perhaps you’d like to step out of the car and I’ll handcuff you? Another viable option, ma’am .”

Blowing out a breath, Sienna grabbed the stack of papers from the glove compartment. She hated that her fingers trembled as she leafed through to find the registration card.

She held it up without speaking, and the sheriff plucked it from her fingers.

“Do you have anything else you’d like to say before I run your information?” he asked conversationally.

“I might like to call my lawyer in Crimson,” she answered automatically. It would be just her luck that Kevin the scumbag had reported his rental car as missing after she’d convinced the bellman to release it to her. It had felt like a tiny sliver of retribution for what he’d done but now it was coming back to bite her in—

“You have an attorney in Crimson? I find it hard to believe you have ties to anyone in my town.”

“ Your town,” she muttered. “Like you own it.”

“Ma’am.” This iteration was a warning.

“I do know an attorney,” she snapped before he could say anything more. “Jase Crenshaw.”

The sheriff laughed. “ You know Jase?”

The way he asked the question made her feel two inches tall. As if Jase Crenshaw wouldn’t want anything to do with a woman like Sienna. Which was both ridiculous and possibly true at this point.

But she didn’t let him see her doubt. Never show anyone the doubt.

Instead she flashed another smile. “I certainly hope I know Jase. He’s my brother.”

* * *

Cole Bennett blinked. Once. Twice. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, then pulled the sunglasses out of his pocket and returned them to his face.

If the gorgeous and obviously high-strung blonde in the Porsche had told him her brother was the President, he wouldn’t have been more surprised.

He patted his open palm on the top of the car. “Sit tight.”

“Are you going to call Jase?” she asked, her voice suddenly breathless.

“I’m going to run your plates and make sure this car hasn’t been reported stolen.”

She snorted, a strangely appealing sound coming from a woman who looked so uptight he guessed she’d never made a noise that wasn’t appropriate for a luncheon at a ritzy country club. Living in the mountains of Colorado, Cole had little use for anything fancy, even with Aspen an easy thirty-minute drive down the road.

“My cheating, dirtbag, sleazeball ex is probably too busy entertaining his mistress to even realize the car is gone.”

Cole was amused despite himself. “And when he does?”

She rolled her pale blue eyes. “I borrowed the car. I’m planning to return it.”

“I gather you recently discovered the cheating, dirtbag, sleazeball side of him.”