The Sheriff's Nine-Month Surprise
Autor
Brenda Harlen
Lecturas
18,7K
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19
HarlequinChapter One
Twenty-eight months
Katelyn Gilmore fell back onto the king-size mattress and drew in a long, deep breath as she stared up at the textured ceiling of the Courtland Hotel-Boulder City.
Twenty-eight months devoted exclusively to the establishment of her law practice, working long hours every day, including evenings and weekends, to prove herself to her clients and colleagues. Now, after twenty-eight months, she’d finally allowed herself to venture away from the office for a few days.
Okay, a conference wasn’t actually a vacation, but the opportunity to hone her legal skills and enjoy a change of scenery was one that she couldn’t refuse. And she was determined to enjoy the weekend—to get out of the hotel when the workshops had ended and breathe in some fresh air. Maybe she’d even take the time to see some sights, have a drink or two at a local bar, maybe flirt with a handsome cowboy—if she remembered how.
She enjoyed the company of men, and her sexual experiences—though limited—had been pleasant enough. Maybe not earth-shattering, but she didn’t really believe that earth-shattering sex existed outside of books and movies. The truth was, she felt more anticipation when she was prepping for a trial than thinking about getting naked with a man.
“Which only proves you’re getting naked with the wrong men,” her sister had told her as she tucked a box of condoms in the suitcase Kate had packed for her trip.
Though Skylar was younger by five years, she had a much better understanding of the way a man’s brain worked—and a lot more experience with other parts of the male anatomy.
Kate had removed the box and given it back to her sister. “I’m going to a legal conference at a five-star hotel, not an open house at a brothel.”
“Still, you might luck out and meet a guy who is something more than a stuffed shirt,” Sky had said, and returned the box to the niche she’d created between Kate’s makeup bag and her underwear. “And even if you don’t, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Because she agreed with her sister’s last point, she’d left the condoms in her suitcase.
She also believed in careful planning and deliberation and wasn’t the type of woman to act on impulse. Hooking up with a guy she met at a conference would be exactly that—and a little tawdry, too.
So when she hung up her suits and unpacked her other essentials, she left the condoms in her luggage, certain she’d have no need for them.
Certain...and maybe just a little disappointed.
* * *
Reid Davidson was sitting with his back to the wall and his eyes on the door when she walked into the conference room.
From a young age, he’d learned to be aware of his surroundings and the people around him—it was easier to dodge a backhand if he saw it coming—and the habit had served him well as the Sheriff of Echo Ridge, Texas.
But even if he hadn’t seen her arrive, even if his head had momentarily been turned away, Reid would have been aware of her presence. She was the type of woman who snagged a man’s full and complete attention and didn’t let go.
She had bold blue eyes and sharp cheekbones in a heart-shaped face that was saved from looking prim by a lushly shaped mouth that promised the fulfillment of his wickedest fantasies. Her dark hair, shining with hints of gold and copper, was caught up in some kind of fancy twist that made him want to take out the pins and slide his fingers through it.
After pausing for a brief moment in the doorway, her gaze searching for an empty chair, she moved to the other side of the room with a brisk, confident stride that suggested she was a woman with important places to go and people to see.
Her body—long and lean with curves in all the right places—was buttoned up in a slim-fitting blue suit. The color was both lighter and brighter than navy and brought to mind the fancy glass his grandmother had collected. The skirt hugged her hips, and the matching jacket was fastened below her breasts with a single square button, above which peeked a hint of black silk.
He’d resigned himself to spending the weekend surrounded by lawyers and judges and other legal types. It wouldn’t have been his first choice on how to spend three days, but the Echo Ridge town council strongly advocated continuing education for all its employees and, since that council was footing the bill for the weekend, he hadn’t balked at the request.
He’d chosen to attend Sentencing Considerations in the Criminal Courts, believing it would be held in Boulder, Colorado, less than a two-hour flight from Echo Ridge. It turned out the conference was in Boulder City, which was in Nevada, adding another hour and another time zone to his travel. Although a potentially fortuitous error on his part, as he’d recently decided to move away from Echo Ridge and had, in fact, already applied to fill a vacancy in the Sheriff’s Office in Haven, Nevada.
So he’d flown in a day early and made a quick trip to the northern part of the state to meet with the hiring committee before the conference. He’d been advised that a decision would be made before 4:00 p.m. Monday, and he figured the conference would distract him from counting the hours until then. As he watched the stunning brunette settle into her chair, almost directly across from him, he couldn’t help but think that she would be an even better distraction.
She unzipped the top of her briefcase and removed a bottle of water, her cell phone and her iPad. If he’d been a betting man, he would have put money on her having been a straight-A student in school—the type who willingly sat at the front of the class to ensure she didn’t miss a single word the teacher said.
The good girl had never been his type, and if he really wanted the distraction of a willing female to help get him through the weekend, he’d be better off hitting a club or the hotel bar when five o’clock rolled around. But his gaze lingered on the brunette, because it was a shame that a good girl should have a mouth that suggested it was capable of doing wonderfully bad things.
Now that she was set up, she turned to the balding man in the ill-fitting brown suit who was seated on her left. Making friends with her neighbors, he realized, when she said something, smiled and shook the man’s hand. Then she turned to the woman on her other side, a skinny redhead with sharp eyes, and repeated the process.
Having finished with the introductions, she sat back in her chair. As more stragglers found their way to the room and filled the last few seats, she let her gaze move around the table. Then her eyes locked on his, and his stomach clenched as it absorbed the punch of sexual awareness.
He hadn’t experienced anything like that in a long while, and he knew then that he wasn’t going to walk away from her so quickly when the hour-long session was over.
* * *
Most of the seats were taken by the time Kate found the conference room where tables were set up around the perimeter to facilitate discussion. But she found a space between Lyle, a victims’ rights advocate from Carson City, and Marcia, a former prosecutor-turned-defense-attorney from Fresno, California.
When she was settled in her chair, she let her gaze scan the room as last-minute arrivals squeezed into vacant seats. Her lazy perusal came to an abrupt halt when she saw him.
He was wearing a light gray micro-check shirt that stretched across mouthwateringly broad shoulders with a loosely knotted plum-colored tie at his throat. His hair was brown, a few shades lighter than her own, and cut short. His forehead was high, his brows thick, his eyes—green? Brown? She couldn’t quite tell from across the distance that separated them, but they were focused and intense. The bronze skin suggested that he spent a lot of time working or playing outdoors. The strong jaw, square and dark with stubble, gave him a slightly dangerous and yet somehow appealing edge.
There was no ring on the third finger of his left hand, resting casually on top of the table, but she knew that wasn’t always proof of unmarried status. Then he caught her eye and winked boldly, and she felt heat spread up her neck and across her cheeks as she tore her gaze away. She was embarrassed to have been caught staring. She was also—unexpectedly and undeniably—aware of him on a purely visceral level.
It had been a long time since she’d been attracted to a man and even longer since she’d shared any kind of physical intimacy with one. She didn’t know precisely how long, but it had been at least twenty-eight months because she hadn’t been away from Haven in that period of time—and she definitely hadn’t hooked up with anyone in her hometown. Heck, she couldn’t even have coffee with a male colleague during morning recess from court without her sister texting to ask for details before her cup was empty.
So maybe it was the extended duration of her most recent dating hiatus that was responsible for her reaction to him. Or maybe it was his shoulders. Apparently she had a weakness for guys with great shoulders and strong jawlines and—
And somehow her errant gaze had drifted back to him again. Chiding herself for her reaction, she folded back the cover of her tablet and swiped to unlock the screen.
The moderator closed the door, effectively silencing the quiet murmur of conversation and focusing attention in his direction. After a brief introduction, he handed out some case studies for the participants to review and discuss.
As the debate evolved, Kate found herself arguing against the position taken by the broad-shouldered stranger who’d caught her eye. He insisted that adult crimes deserved adult punishment; she maintained that children didn’t have experience making decisions or controlling their impulses and shouldn’t be held to the same standards as their adult counterparts.
When the moderator finally called time on the session, neither of them had given an inch. And yet Kate found herself invigorated rather than frustrated, because while she didn’t agree with her opponent’s position, she had to admit that he’d made some good points and he presented his arguments in a rational and respectful manner.
As most of the other attendees funneled toward the door, he moved the other way—toward her. She took her time putting her materials away, pleased to note that her hands were steady despite the pounding of her heart. She uncapped her water bottle and tipped it to her lips to moisten her suddenly dry throat.
He wore jeans with his shirt and tie, and well-worn cowboy boots on his feet. Six feet two inches, she decided when she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. And his eyes weren’t green or brown but an intriguing combination of both. Hazel, she decided, though the word failed to describe the magnetism of his gaze. Tiny lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes and bracketed his mouth, and a thin scar slashed through his right eyebrow.
“Reid Davidson,” he said.
She took the proffered hand—wide-palmed and strong—and felt a tingle of something dangerously tempting shoot up her arm and arrow toward her center. “Katelyn Gilmore.”
“Defense attorney?” he guessed.
She nodded. “Among other things.”
“Six months out of law school?”
She narrowed her gaze, not sure if his question was a legitimate guess or a subtle insult. “Four years.”
He seemed surprised by that revelation. “Four years and you’re not completely disillusioned yet?”
“My determination to fight for justice doesn’t blind me to the flaws in our system.”
“That’s...admirable,” he decided.
She slid the strap of her briefcase onto her shoulder. “You’re a prosecutor,” she guessed.
“No,” he said quickly. Vehemently. “I’m not a lawyer.”
“So what do you do, Not-a-Lawyer Reid Davidson?”
“I’m a sheriff.”
She nodded, easily able to picture a shiny badge pinned to that wide chest. “And you throw the book at anyone who doesn’t toe the line in your jurisdiction.”
He didn’t deny it. “It’s my job to uphold the law.”
“The law doesn’t exist in a vacuum,” she argued. “It requires context.”
“Apparently you have some strong opinions on the subject,” he noted. “Why don’t we continue this discussion elsewhere, and you can enlighten me?”
She absolutely wanted to continue this discussion—or any discussion—if it meant spending more time with the broad-shouldered sheriff with the mesmerizing eyes and sexy smile.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, determined to play it cool despite the anticipation racing through her veins.
“I could buy you a drink,” he suggested.
She considered herself a smart woman—too smart to hook up with a stranger. But while she didn’t know even the first page of Reid’s life story, she knew that he set her blood humming in a way that it hadn’t done in a very long time. And after more than two years without a man even registering a blip in her pulse, she was too curious to walk away without determining if the attraction she felt was reciprocated.
She wasn’t looking for love. She wasn’t even looking for sex. But she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed looking at Sheriff Reid Davidson.
Sometimes you don’t know what you want until it’s right in front of you.
With the echo of her sister’s voice in her ears, she made her decision. “A drink sounds good.”
* * *
Reid had never been afraid to admit when he was wrong, and he’d realized—less than halfway through the workshop discussion—that he’d been wrong about her.
Katelyn.
The name struck him as a unique combination of the classic and contemporary, and as intriguing as the woman herself. Because while she might look prim and cool, there was a lot of heat beneath the surface. She argued not just eloquently but passionately, making him suspect that a woman who was so animated in her discussion of a hypothetical situation would be even more interesting up close and personal. Now he was about to find out.
There were two bars in the hotel—the first was an open lounge area that saw a lot of traffic as guests made their way around the hotel; the second, adjacent to the restaurant, was more remote and private. He opted for the second, where patrons could be seated at pub-style tables with high-back leather stools or narrow booths that afforded a degree of intimacy.
He guided her to a vacant booth. When the waitress came to take their drink order, Katelyn requested a Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon and he opted for a locally brewed IPA, signing the check to his room when the drinks were delivered.
After the server had gone, he raised his glass. “To stimulating discourse.”
Though she lifted her brows at his deliberately suggestive word choice, she tapped the rim of her glass against the neck of his bottle.
“Where are you from, Sheriff Reid Davidson?” she asked, after sipping her wine.
“Echo Ridge, Texas.”
“You’re a long way from home,” she noted.
“So it would seem,” he agreed. “How about you?”
“Northern Nevada, so not quite such a long way.”
“Humboldt, Haven or Elko County?”
“You must have aced geography in school,” she remarked.
“I didn’t ace anything in school,” he confessed. “But I recently visited the town of Haven.”
“Why were you there?” she asked, then held up a hand before he could respond. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“Why don’t you want to know?”
“Because almost everyone in Haven knows everyone else—or at least knows someone who knows that someone else, and if it turns out that you hooked up with someone I know, this—” she gestured from her own chest to his and back again “—isn’t going to happen.”
“Is this—” he copied her gesture “—going to happen?”
She sipped her wine. “I’m thinking about it.”
“While you’re thinking, let me reassure you that I’ve never hooked up with anyone from Haven.” His lips curved as he lifted his bottle. “Yet.”
She set her glass on the table, her fingers trailing slowly down the stem. “You’re pretty confident, aren’t you?”
“Optimistic,” he told her. “But I do need to ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“Is there anyone waiting for you at home in Haven?”
“Aside from my father, grandparents, sister, two brothers, several aunts, uncles and cousins, you mean?”
“Aside from them,” he confirmed.
“No, there’s no one waiting for me.” She traced the base of her wineglass with a neatly shaped but unpainted fingernail. “What about you, Sheriff Davidson—are you married?”
He shook his head. “Divorced.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No,” he said again. “Any more questions?”
“Just one,” she said.
He held her gaze, waiting, hoping.
“Do you want to take these drinks back to my room?”
