Elizabeth Bevarly - The Sheriff And The Impostor Bride

“Oh, those Wentworths,” she said.

Somehow, he managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Yeah. Those Wentworths.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you were talking about some other Wentworths.”

Other Wentworths, he muttered to himself. Yeah, right. “So you don’t know the Wentworths personally?”

She shook her head.

“Well, the Wentworths sure know you. They’re all het up to find you.”

Sabrina Jensen shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea why they’d be looking for me. And as you can see, I’m perfectly fine, so...” She reached for the doorknob. “Will that be all, Sheriff?”

“Not quite.”

She expelled an exasperated breath and tucked her hand back under her other arm. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us.”

Riley inhaled deeply as he studied Miss Sabrina Jensen’s face again. Big mistake, he realized immediately. Because the moment he started looking at her, he found that he didn’t want to stop. No woman should have eyes that beautiful, that compelling, that hypnotic. A woman could do a man serious damage with eyes like those. And this woman had clearly tangled intimately with at least one man recently, given the state of her womb. Who knew what she’d done to the poor sap?

Or what the not-so-poor sap had done to her.

Automatically, his gaze dropped to her left hand, where he saw no ring. Unmarried. Aha. It hit Riley then that maybe Miss Jensen was missing on purpose, because she didn’t want to be found. Especially by the Wentworths of Freemont Springs, Oklahoma. There was a father for that baby of hers out there somewhere, a father who hadn’t yet married her. And Joseph Wentworth had a grandson. Even the older Wentworth boy might have fathered that baby before he died. Hell, for all Riley knew, maybe Joseph himself had a personal stake in finding Miss Jensen. Who knew what the particulars of her situation were?

“Miss Jensen,” he began again, “do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“I thought you already had, Sheriff.”

He nodded. “Yeah, but your answers to those only roused a whole bunch more that we need to talk about.”

Without giving her time to answer, Riley settled his Stetson onto the settee beside him, tugged off his gloves and stuffed them into his coat pockets, then began to unbutton his coat. Miss Jensen opened her mouth to say something, seemed to think better of whatever it was, then closed it again. So he shed his coat and dropped it beside his hat, then he joined both on the settee and made himself comfortable. He slung his arm over the back, crossed his ankle over his knee, and met her gaze levelly.

Miss Jensen only stood staring back at him, as if she were trying to analyze him cell by cell. Those gorgeous green eyes of hers pinned him in place and held him there, assessing him, cataloging him, mesmerizing him. Riley began to feel as if he were a bug under a microscope, and Miss Sabrina Jensen was about to pick him apart. Then, thankfully, she sat down, too, in a chair positioned catty-corner to the settee.

“Can I fix you something to drink?” she asked halfheartedly. “Some coffee or something?”

He wondered for a moment if he should let on how much he knew about her, then decided that maybe she’d be more inclined to surrender information if she thought he already had most of it. So he replied. “I didn’t think pregnant women were supposed to drink coffee.”

The moment he said it, those two bright spots of pink appeared on her cheeks again, and her mouth dropped open in astonishment. Then she splayed her hand over her flat belly, as if she were trying instinctively to protect whatever life was growing there.

“You, uh, you know about that?” she asked.

He nodded. “It was in the latest APB we received about you. When are you due?”

Something—surely it wasn’t relief—crossed her face, and she swallowed hard. “I, uh...” she began. But nothing more was forthcoming.

“Yes?” he spurred her.

But the only response she offered was another long, drawn out “Uh...”

“Miss Jensen?”

“Uh-huh?”

Hey, she was up to two syllables, Riley noted. Good for her. “You are pregnant, aren’t you?”

She nodded quickly. “Uh, yes. Yes, I am.”

Whoa, she was even using real words now, he thought. “When are you due?”

“In, uh, about, um...” She seemed to be thinking about something, then said, “June. I’m due in June. I’m three months along.” To illustrate, she held up one hand, index, middle and ring fingers extended, as if she were a preschooler identifying her age. “This many,” she said, enhancing the image. “Three. I’m three months. Yepper. That’s how pregnant I am. Three months.”

Riley nodded. Hoo-kay. Whatever. Nobody ever said beauty and brains went hand in hand, right? “Well, no offense, ma’am, but I’m not sure you’re supposed to be drinking coffee. Not that I’m an expert or anything, but—”

“Oh, I’m not, either,” she piped up. “An expert, I mean. This is my first time. Being pregnant, I mean. I’m sure the coffee is... I mean... Gee, I can’t seem to stop saying, ‘I mean,’ can I?” She laughed, a nervous little trill that he found very suspicious. “I mean—oops, there I go again—ahem. That is to say—” She smiled, having conquered her problem by introducing a new phrase. “I know the coffee is decaf. Would you like some?”

He still hadn’t quite recovered from the chill outside—or the prattling inside—so he nodded gratefully. Anything to give her something to do that would calm her down. But aloud, he only said, “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

Even before he completed the sentence, Miss Jensen had shot up from her seat and fled to the kitchen. Of course, seeing as how the kitchen was less than two feet away, it wasn’t much of a flight. Strangely, Riley found that he was grateful for that, too. For some reason, he didn’t want Sabrina Jensen out of eyeshot.

Of course, that was because she was part of a case right now, he assured himself—and not because she was just a good-looking woman he’d like to get to know better. He had no intention of getting to know her better. Not like that, anyway. Not...intimately. She was pregnant, for God’s sake, something that tended to make a man think twice about involvement. For one thing, babies could put a real cramp in all that getting-to-know-you stuff. For another thing, it meant that she had a vested interest in another man.

Riley might have done some foolish things in his life where women were concerned, but he sure as shootin’ wasn’t about to infringe on another man’s, uh...connubial jurisdiction. Of course, Miss Jensen was a self-professed Miss, reinforcing his suspicion that she wasn’t married to whoever had sired that little nipper inside her, but still. The genesis of life tended to be a pretty major bond for people, didn’t it? Even if the baby’s father wasn’t around, it was a good bet she still had fond feelings for the guy, and that the guy likewise still had a thing for her. Hey, baby or no baby, what man in his right mind would let a woman like Sabrina Jensen out of his sight?

“Aha,” she said, bringing his attention around. When he looked up, he saw her standing in front of an open cabinet, a can of coffee in one hand.

“See?” she said, looking triumphant for some reason. “It is decaf. I told you so.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, not sure why she should count the observation as such a coup. “You surely did.”

She smiled as she closed the cabinet and moved toward the coffeemaker. And in spite of his earlier admonitions to himself, Riley found that he was more than a little interested in her movements. Everything she did was marked by a graceful efficiency and an easiness of motion that put his mind at peace. At least, her motions were efficient and easy—until she looked up and caught him watching her. Then all hell broke loose. The little plastic scoop full of coffee that she held in her hand went clattering onto the counter, scattering grounds everywhere, and when she scrambled to retrieve it, she bonked her head on the kitchen cabinet beside her.