Cathy Thacker - Snowbound Bride

Nora’s eyes widened at the low, masculine promise in his voice. “N-no,” she said as color poured into the high, sculpted planes of her face.

“Good,” Sam replied in a low, gravelly voice. “Then that’s all I need to know,” he said, pulling her against him. He threaded one hand through her hair. His lips grazed hers, tenderly at first, then with building passion. Nora was engulfed by so many sensations and feelings at once. The woodsy scent of him, the minty taste of his mouth. His lips were sure and sensual, his body was hard and warm. The man knew how to kiss! Knew how to draw a thrilling, incredibly sensual response from her, the kind she had read about but never really dreamed existed. And it was only then, when Nora realized what Sam had done to her, in getting her to respond that way to him, that he slowly drew back.

Not sure she could stand unassisted, Nora wreathed her arms about his shoulders and held on tight. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she could barely catch her breath as she stared up at him.

He looked down at her, breathing just as erratically, appearing just as stunned, just as pleased. He smiled at her then, ever so softly and reluctantly, released his grip on her. “You’re free now.”

Nora blinked up at him dizzily, aware that she’d never felt more lovestruck than she did at that moment. “To love again?” she asked.

Sam ran his fingertips down the open wedge of the back of her gown, eliciting another series of tingles—and the realization that her trouble some zipper was no longer jammed. “To get out of the dress.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed at the unspeakably ardent direction of her thoughts, Nora started to step away from the dressing room wall.

Sam planted a hand on either side of her and leaned in close. “But don’t give up on the other,” he told her softly. “You’re free to do that, too.”

Looking deep into Sam’s eyes, Nora could almost believe that it was all that simple. She wanted Sam—at least for now; she should have him. But common sense prevailed, telling her this was not the type of diversion she should be allowing herself, not when she still had so much about her life to sort out. Like where she was going to live, and how she was going to get her father to listen to her and stop meddling in her life. And she had to do all that without completely destroying the only familial relationship she had left in her life in the process.

Determined to put first things first, Nora flattened a hand across Sam’s chest and pressed against the solid male warmth. But before she could speak, the pager attached to his belt began a steady, insistent beep.

The edges of Sam’s mouth tightened into a frown. As he reached down to turn off the pager, his eyes met hers. “Guess I’ll see you later,” he drawled.

Nora sighed. Whether it was wise or not, she had been afraid that would be the case.

WHEN NORA CAME OUT of the dressing room some fifteen minutes later, her wedding gown folded and looped over her arms, the crowd in Whittakers had barely thinned. People were still lined up in droves, purchasing gloves, hats and snow boots, chatting excitedly about the three or so inches of snow that were now on the ground.

Before Nora could do more than smile a hello at another group of curious townspeople, her wedding dress was taken from her—for drying and pressing, Clara said—and she was introduced all around. As a “special friend” of Gus’s. After which the conversation promptly returned to—what else?—the weather, and the effect it was likely to have on the town in the days to come.

“I hope this storm doesn’t interfere with our silent auction for the EMS Fund,” Wynnona Kendrick, the florist, said.

“We’re saving up for a new ambulance,” Doc Ellen explained to Nora as her five-year-old daughter, Katie, tried to decide between two pairs of insulated ski mittens. “We’ve been working on it for almost a year, and so far we’ve only raised five thousand dollars. Unless we can find a way to raise money more quickly, at the rate we’re going it’ll take us five more years to get one.”

“What are you auctioning off?” Nora asked, wondering if there was any way she could be of help.

“Quilts, crafts, paintings, homemade jams, candies, hand crafted furniture and cookbooks. You name it, we’ll probably have it over at the high school gym come Wednesday evening,” Doc Ellen replied, putting the mittens Katie had selected on the counter for ringing up.

“Unless the snow still has the roads impassable,” Clara Whittaker interjected, with a worried look.

“In which case, we’ll simply delay it.” Doc Ellen searched Nora’s face. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

“Sure, if I’m still here,” Nora promised. If not, I’ll make a donation. She smiled, adding, “It sounds like a worthy cause.”

“It is. And it’ll be fun, too, ’cause we’ve got the whole community involved.” Silence fell.

Afraid the talk was going to turn to her canceled wedding again, Nora asked, “Where did Sam go?” And why did she have the feeling he could save her from all this?

“Fender bender at the high school,” Harold Whittaker replied, as he rang up a pair of long johns for a customer. “No one hurt, and only one car involved, but there’s a stop sign and park bench that used to be in better shape. Why?” Sam’s grandfather peered at her curiously from over the rim of his old-fashioned spectacles. “Did you need to talk to Sam?”

What Nora needed was to find out whether her father and Geoffrey had set up the alarm for her in West Virginia. If they had, it was probably through the police departments of the state. And the key to that information was Sam. “Yes, I do,” she replied.

“Well, he should be back in the sheriff’s office soon.” Harold smiled warmly. “If you want to go over there and wait on him, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

SAM GOT BACK to the office seconds before Nora breezed in.

“So, this is what a small-town sheriff’s office looks like,” Nora said breathlessly as she tugged her mittens off with her teeth, unfastened the wooden toggle buttons on her coat and took a moment to look around.

While Sam watched Nora with the same unabashed curiosity with which she was studying everything else, Nora’s glance moved quickly over the two battered oak desks, set several feet apart, and several black metal file cabinets in the small square room.

She paused before a computer and printer, looked over the bulletin board covered with Wanted posters, the fax machine and copier. If she noted that the equipment was more functional than state-of-the-art, she made no comment. And, instead, turned her attention to the enormous shortwave radio system that Sam and the other deputies used to communicate with each other and other law enforcement agencies around the state.

Finished with her survey of the reception area and office that spanned the front of the brick building, Nora peeked out the doorway, into the hall that ran the length of the middle of the building. She turned back to Sam. “May I?” He nodded.

There was no one else there. It wouldn’t hurt for her to look around. Everyone else in town had, at one time or another.

He followed her past the rest rooms and the soda and coffee machines, to the single jail cell, with its two cots. Both were unoccupied, as was usually the case.

Nora studied the metal cots, which were outfitted with white cotton sheets and blue wool blankets, then turned back to Sam. Together, they walked out into the front office again.

“I’m surprised,” Nora murmured, as she took off her green wool parka and hung it on the tree rack next to the door. “I didn’t expect so much modern equipment.”

Sam hadn’t expected Nora to look every bit as ravishingly beautiful in a white shirt, pewter-gray sweater and jeans as she had in her elegantly beaded white satin wedding dress.