Donna Clayton - The Sheriff's 6-year-old Secret

Silhouette Books

The Coltons

Close Proximity

is the recipient of the Diamond Author Award for Literary Achievement 2000, as well as two Holt Medallions. She became a writer through her love of reading. As a child, she marveled at her ability to travel the world, experience swashbuckling adventures and meet amazingly bold and daring people without ever leaving the shade of the huge oak in her very own backyard. She takes great pride in knowing that, through her work, she provides her readers the chance to indulge in some purely selfish romantic entertainment.

One of her favorite pastimes is traveling. Her other interests include walking, reading, visiting with friends, teaching Sunday school, cooking and baking, and she still collects cookbooks, too. In fact, her house is overrun with them.

Please write to Donna care of Silhouette Books. She’d love to hear from you!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

The last thing Nathan Thunder needed was more trouble.

“Looks like more trouble is just what you’re in for, though.” His murmur held a distinct quality of resigned despair as he dropped the phone receiver into its cradle. He scrubbed at the back of his neck and then let his fingers worry back and forth across his jaw.

Having just stepped into the job of sheriff of Smoke Valley Reservation a few short weeks ago, he was doing all he could to unite his small staff into a team. He’d returned to the reservation after a long absence and now needed to spend loads of time allowing the residents to get to know him again. A law officer who didn’t have the respect and trust of the community couldn’t carry out his duties effectively.

Not that Nathan was an outsider, by any means. Yes, he’d left Smoke Valley more than ten years ago to attend the New York City Police Academy. He’d joined the NYPD and was proud of his distinguished career. But he’d been back to visit his friends and family on the rez many times. And he was back for good now. If truth be known, he was happy about the move, as well as relieved; this job seemed to have put his haunting fear to rest.

Oh, he was confident he could do a good job as sheriff—he’d unify his officers and garner the community’s trust. He was certain of it. He only wished that confidence extended itself to his personal life. Now that was where the real trouble lay: in his personal life. Namely, his daughter, Charity.

His daughter. He still couldn’t get over the astounding turn of events that had brought this child into his life just five short weeks ago.

When Nathan thought of little girls, he imagined sugar and spice and everything nice. Sweet smiles. Frilly dresses. Ballet lessons. Butterfly kisses. Now the Great Spirit above knew Nathan had no understanding whatsoever of children, but six-year-old Charity seemed to break every single label ever slapped on the female of the species. She had a rough-and-tumble attitude, an aversion to any clothing with even a hint of a ruffle and a speak-your-mind tongue that often had him at a loss for words.

Her wildness needed taming. And the short phone conversation he’d just had with the principal of the local elementary school only cemented the notion into his brain. It seemed his bruiser of a daughter had socked a fellow student during recess. On her first day in the first-grade class, no less.

He whistled, shaking his head. “What a way to make a first impression.”

After alerting the dispatcher of his plans, Nathan got into his car and drove the short distance to the school. He parked, cut the ignition and walked up the sidewalk. The closer he got to the doors, the more his feeling of doom increased. The heels of his shoes echoed in the wide, empty corridor as he searched for the first-grade classroom. Butterflies began to dance a jig in his stomach. Then suddenly he nearly chuckled out loud at himself. It was quite comical that he could calmly face down a fugitive with a deadly weapon, yet the idea of meeting with Charity’s teacher had him feeling tense and jittery.

The woman was turned away from him when he entered the classroom, but one look at the mass of flaming curls tumbling down her back, one glimpse of the lissome, curvy figure told him he’d already met Charity’s teacher.

In the line of duty.

Just as Gwen set the chalkboard eraser on the metal ledge, her skin tingled with the ingrained awareness that alerted her to someone’s presence behind her. She took a deep, steeling breath. The principal had set up this parent-teacher meeting for her. Not having spoken to Charity’s father herself, Gwen had no idea if the man would be rational and unruffled…or if she’d be facing a Brahma bull. As a teacher, she’d learned to expect the unexpected when it came to dealing with parents. All she’d been told was that he was coming.

Fixing a reassuring smile on her mouth, she turned. However, the sight of the police officer standing at the threshold of her classroom made her stomach turn queasy.

While growing up, she’d had quite a few experiences where the police showed up at her house. Each and every encounter had been frightening.

Her countenance fell and she had trouble drawing a breath.

His shoulders massive, the man seemed to fill the doorway. His face, with its classic Native American features, was handsome beyond belief and caused heat to curl inside her, but at the same time the implications of that olive-and-gray uniform, of that shiny metal badge on his chest, made her go cold all over. Like steam and ice—it was the oddest sensation she’d ever experienced.

The scariest thing about this moment, she realized, was that she recognized this man as the law officer who had lectured her brother soundly for shoplifting a candy bar just last week. It was strange that she’d been bombarded with the same hot-cold feeling then as she was now.

Thank heavens she’d been there in the store when the incident had occurred. She’d been in such a rush to pay for the candy her brother had slipped into his pocket that she’d spilled the entire contents of her purse on the wide wooden countertop. Keys, change, pictures, a tube of lipstick had all gone astray, bouncing and tumbling out of reach.

The fact that Brian had done such a thing had been bad enough. But when the policeman arrived, she’d gone all shaky inside. She’d never been so embarrassed in her life. She’d been truly grateful that the store owner hadn’t pressed charges. And she’d been just as thankful that the officer had taken Brian aside and given him a good talking-to about the trouble he could get into by taking things that didn’t belong to him.

If the officer was showing up at her place of work, Brian must have done something horrendous. Her knees went wobbly as warm rubber.

“What’s he done now?” Trepidation made her voice raspy, and she barely made it to her chair in one piece. It felt as if all her joints had turned to rusty hinges from which the pins had been pulled. She was so glad the chair was already pulled out as she sank into it. “It must be bad if you’re coming to find me at school.”

Last week she’d been startled by how handsome the Kolheek officer was. His eyes were a deep, rich brown, his hair as black and shiny as a crow’s wing glinting in the sunshine. Parted in the middle, his hair feathered back away from his face, long enough that only the lobes of his ears were visible. His high, sharp cheekbones gave him a noble air. The sharp angle of his jaw had become even sharper, had taken on an extreme seriousness, and his dark eyes had intensified with a stern and steady stare as he’d chastised her brother outside the store.