A Texan in Her Bed
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Sara Orwig
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10
One
What Sheriff Wyatt Milan liked most about his job was that he knew what to expect in his quiet town of Verity, Texas. But on this October afternoon when he turned his car around the corner onto Main Street he knew change was in the air.
A red limousine took up his parking space, plus some, right in front of city hall.
“What the hell?” he said quietly.
“Gosh almighty, there goes a quiet afternoon,” Deputy Lambert whispered. “Will you look at that,” he said louder.
Wyatt was looking. Directly in front of the small city hall building stood a prominent sign with large letters: No Parking—Reserved for the Sheriff of Verity, Texas.
He had expected the usual big empty space where he could park Verity’s official black-and-red sheriff’s car. Instead, the red stretch limousine took every inch of the allotted area.
He and his family had money, as did many families in the town, but no one owned anything as flashy as an all-red limo. “That limo doesn’t belong to anyone living in these parts,” Wyatt said, more to himself than to his deputy, thinking something was about to shatter some of the peacefulness of his hometown.
“In my whole life, I’ve never seen a limo that big and that red,” Val said with awe in his voice. “I’ll go look for the driver.”
“He may be inside.”
“No one was scheduled to see you today, were they?”
“No,” Wyatt said, halting beside the limo. “You write a ticket and stick it on the windshield. Come in when you’re through. If the owner or the driver isn’t here, we’ll go look around town for him. The people who live here want a quiet, peaceful town. I want one, too. Thanks to my sister marrying a Calhoun, the old Milan-Calhoun feud has finally died down. I don’t want something happening to bring trouble elsewhere in town.”
“Amen to that. Why would anyone park a big limo in the sheriff’s space?”
“Either he’s lazy, starting trouble, unobservant or he’s someone who thinks he can do whatever he wants. Who knows?”
Deputy Lambert stepped out and Wyatt drove around the corner and parked in the alley behind the building, in the small space allotted for two cars and a nearby Dumpster. His life had had enough upheavals—an emotional breakup years earlier with his fiancée and then coming home to his brother fighting with a Calhoun neighbor, keeping the century-old family feud explosive. When people wanted him to run for sheriff of Verity County, based in the town of Verity, he’d had to quiet fights between his brother Tony and Tony’s neighbor Lindsay Calhoun. Everything was finally coming under control. He didn’t want someone to come to town and destroy the peace he had worked hard to establish. He shook his head as he entered city hall. He hoped this was settled quickly and quietly and the red limo drove out of Verity the same way it’d come in.
Entering the Verity County sheriff’s office through the back door, Wyatt walked down the long hall. His boot heels scraped the scuffed boards as he passed the large file room, a small break room and a meeting room with a small table and chairs. The hallway continued, dissecting the stone building. To the right were the mayor’s office, the town records office and the utilities office. To the left were the sheriff’s office and a two-cell jail. The center reception area was lined with vinyl-covered benches and in the middle was a desk where a clerk sat. Wyatt looked at Corporal Dwight Quinby whose wide eyes sent a silent message that something was up here at the office. Dwight’s tangled light brown hair became more snarled as he ran his fingers through it.
“Sheriff, there’s a woman in your office. When she said she wanted to see you, I told her to have a seat out here, that you’d be back soon, but she talked me into telling where your office is and letting her go back there. I don’t even know how she did it. First thing I knew she smiled and was gone,” he said, sounding dazed.
“Dwight, slow down,” Wyatt drawled quietly. “Who is she? What’s her name?”
“I didn’t get her name. I don’t know—one moment she was here and the next she was in your office. I don’t know what happened.”
“Tell Val when he comes in that I’ve found the limo passenger. Tell him to look around town for a uniformed driver and get that thing moved out of my parking place. Or call Argus and tell him to come tow that limo away from here.”
“You might change your mind after you meet her,” Dwight said.
Startled, Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t think so. You call and get it towed,” he said, curious now who was waiting in his office and why Dwight would say such a thing or look so dazed.
“Yes, sir,” Dwight replied, glancing through the oval glass in the front door that offered a good view of the red limousine.
“Sheriff, you haven’t ever met anyone like her,” Dwight said, surprising Wyatt even more with such an uncustomary reaction.
With a long sigh, Wyatt headed for his office. Whatever the woman wanted, she’d have to move the limo before they did anything else. He hoped she wasn’t moving to Verity. The town was filled with enough affluent people who thought they had special rights and privileges. It took tact and diplomacy to deal with them, including his own family sometimes.
In this case, he felt the owner of the limo lost all rights to tact and diplomacy when she had the limo parked in the sheriff’s space.
Wyatt opened the door of his office and walked in. Instantly he forgot all about the limo.
His gaze focused on a long-legged redhead seated in a leather wingback chair that was turned slightly toward the door. Big green eyes immobilized him, a sensation that Wyatt was unaccustomed to. With an effort his gaze left hers, trailing over her while his breath left his body. Dimly, he wondered if another movie was going to be filmed in or near Verity and this was the star. A riot of curly auburn hair spilled over her shoulders, giving her a sensual, earthy look that heated his insides. Flawless, smooth skin heightened her allure. Her green dress emphasized the color of her eyes and clung to a figure that threatened to melt his thought processes. Lush curves turned the room temperature to the heat of a West Texas summer. He noted her tiny waist, but then his gaze traveled down where the dress ended at her crossed knees, down long shapely legs.
“Well, good morning to the illustrious sheriff of Verity County,” she said, drawing out her words in a throaty voice that sounded like a suggestive invitation to sin instead of a greeting.
Without conscious thought of what he was doing, Wyatt walked toward her. He stopped in front of her. A faint hint of a smile gave a slight curve to her full, red lips and he couldn’t keep from wondering what it would be like to kiss her.
“Good morning. It’s Wyatt Milan,” he said, waiting for her to respond and give him her name.
She smiled and his knees almost buckled. Her smile was dazzling and lit up her face as if she were the friendliest person in the state of Texas, and in that moment he understood why his clerk had been so dazzled.
When she held out her hand, he took it, his fingers closing around a dainty, warm hand that sent electricity streaking through him. A beautiful pearl-and-diamond band was on one of her fingers. He glanced at her other hand to see it was bare of rings.
“I’m Destiny Jones, Sheriff Milan. I’m from Chicago.”
As if she had plunged a knife into his heart, Wyatt came out of his daze. He had never met the woman, but he knew the name and he knew about her. His wits began to work again and his breathing steadied, and he could almost view her without an intense physical reaction. As if his emotions were on a pendulum, his feelings about her swung in the opposite direction and he viewed her as pure trouble.
“Destiny Jones, as in Desirée Jones’s sister,” he said, recalling the headline-making, temperamental, stunningly beautiful movie star he had once had an affair with while she was on location in Verity. An affair that had ended badly. He remembered Desirée talking about her older sister who hosted a television show about unsolved mysteries and had written a bestselling book, Unsolved Mysteries of the South.
“Ah, you remember,” she replied.
“I always remember a beautiful woman,” he said, his gaze traveling leisurely over Destiny’s features even as his guard came up. Both sisters were breathtaking, but they were both probably casual about their relationships. He had known that with Desirée and he guessed that now about Destiny.
“I’ve been waiting three years to meet the illustrious sheriff of Verity, Texas, and now I finally get to do so,” she said with a smile that threatened to melt the polar ice caps. “You’re a Milan, the family involved in a feud with the Calhouns.”
“So you know about the feud,” he said, suspecting trouble was coming his way within hours.
He turned a leather chair to face her and sat only a couple of feet away. “So you’re in town for what purpose?” he asked bluntly, mildly amused that she had taken his parking place, made herself comfortable in his office and now with him. He saw no reason to waste time in polite chitchat. He was still idly curious, however, and he couldn’t deny the thought of asking her to dinner crossed his mind.
“For one thing, I hope I can have an interview with you about the Lavita Wrenville house. I think it will be a wonderful subject for my Unsolved Mysteries television show.”
Her words made him focus more rationally on her. He smiled only to be polite. The Wrenville house was where a Milan and a Calhoun had once fought over the same woman and both men, along with her father, had been shot to death. Century-old murders that could stir up the feud again.
“The Wrenville house,” he said. “That place really isn’t very interesting and there is nothing you can do at this time to solve the murders that happened in the house. That was over a century ago, old news with cold clues. At best, you might come back next year when the town of Verity has full rights to the property.”
“That’s interesting. I’d like to hear more about the town getting full rights. Even if I can’t get a solution, I’d like to present the story about the house and family because it’s unknown, unusual and I think it could be of interest to my audience.”
“You might check Texas history because I think you’ll find other unsolved mysteries that are far more fascinating in places far more appealing.”
“That’s interesting to know, too, Sheriff Milan,” she said, giving him a sweet smile. “But I really want to do this one. And you should know I pursue what I want.”
“And I imagine you’re accustomed to getting what you want,” he said, his gaze flicking over her. He guessed most men found it difficult to tell her no, especially with her devastating smile.
“That happens often,” she said, leaning forward and shortening the gap between them. “I’m curious, Sheriff Milan,” she said in a pleasant tone that probably ended most men’s resistance, “why are you so set on discouraging me about the Wrenville house?”
“Verity is a quiet town with residents who like the status quo. As sheriff, I definitely like peace and quiet. If you’ll look around, you won’t find any tourist attractions. We do have a tiny museum, but it’s not very interesting. Ditto our small library.”
She smiled. “I assure you, I’m not planning to make this a tourist attraction. Maybe it’s well you don’t work for the Chamber of Commerce or the Tourist Center.”
“We don’t have a Tourist Center,” he said quietly. “That should give you an idea.”
From the moment he had discovered the red limo, this woman had been surprising him, but her purpose for being here was an even bigger surprise—and an unpleasant one.
“I’m sorry you came all this way, Ms. Jones. You should have contacted me and I could have saved you the trouble. Lavita Wrenville was the last surviving Wrenville and she deeded the place to the town of Verity. According to the deed, we can’t do anything to the grounds or house until next year, when it reverts totally to the town. I’m sheriff and I’m not opening that house.”
“I am so sorry that you’re unhappy about this, Sheriff Milan.” Leaning back, she rummaged through a large purse. Gold bangles jingled on her arm and while her attention was on her purse, he looked her over from head to toe once again, his insides tightening as he envisioned her without the dress. As he gazed at her, she withdrew two envelopes and held them out to him. With a sinking feeling, he recognized the logo on one. “I wrote the governor of Texas, and I’ve written the mayor of Verity. I have letters from both stating clearly that I may look through the Wrenville house. Actually, I’m here as a guest of the state of Texas. You have such a nice governor. If you’d like to read the letters, here they are.”
Wyatt held back a groan and resisted swearing. The last thing he wanted was someone stirring up the old family feud and drawing tourists who would want to walk through the Wrenville house. The dread that he experienced earlier—that his peaceful life and the public serenity of Verity were on the brink of destruction by one headstrong, sexy redhead—was coming true before his eyes.
* * *
A few moments later, after he’d read the letters, Wyatt made a mental note to talk to the mayor. Gyp Nash hadn’t let him know one thing about Destiny Jones coming to Verity to see the Wrenville house. Gyp didn’t like conflict, so that’s probably why he had avoided telling Wyatt. But for the mayor to say how “thrilled” the townspeople would be that the Wrenville story would be the subject of one of her shows... Did Nash know this town at all?
He gave her back her letters. “Very nice,” he said in clipped tones, trying to think what he could do to get rid of her.
“The Wrenville house is a big, dusty, empty house. There are all sorts of rumors and a legend about the property. People and kids have looked through it over the years until finally there’s no interest in it. I want to keep it that way,” he said. He felt a clash of wills with the charming, breathtaking bit of trouble that was sitting only a few feet from him. Along with the friction was a strong physical appeal that he didn’t want, but couldn’t shake.
“I suspect you’ve been through the house?”
“Oh, sure, when I was in high school. Kids used to be curious and there were all sorts of wild rumors, but they all died out. Ask people who have high school kids—there’s no interest now. Jump back to my grandparents’ generation and fights would break out over whether a Milan or a Calhoun shot first and killed the other as well as Lavita Wrenville’s father that fatal night. In the three years that I’ve been sheriff we haven’t had a fight break out over who fired the killing shots, nor have I had a trespassing call at the Wrenville place. It’ll be better for the Calhouns and the Milans when the old house is gone. It serves as a reminder of the feud.”
“Well, I’m curious and you’re not discouraging me. It’s a fascinating story of three unsolved murders and perhaps a hidden fortune. That’s an intriguing mystery.”
“Not really. There were three murders, but they took place in the late 1800s. That’s so long ago no one cares now,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing. “And as for the so-called fortune, Lavita Wrenville never married, was eccentric and may have saved some money and hidden it, but she was considered by most to be poverty stricken after she went through the money left to her by her father. All I’ve ever heard was that she lived in poverty and off other people’s charity.”
“Maybe you’re too closely involved,” Destiny said lightly, her constant smiles softening her persistent argument with him. “I find that it’s still an interesting subject and I hope I can persuade you to give me an interview. I would be absolutely thrilled,” she said in a throaty voice that made him think of hot kisses instead of a factual interview. “After all, you are a Milan and one of the men murdered in that house was a Milan—wasn’t one of your ancestors rumored to have been murdered by a Calhoun?”
“Unfortunately, yes, that’s my family’s version, though the Calhouns say it was a Calhoun murdered by a Milan. But it was way before my time and I sure as hell didn’t know him. There’s not that much to talk about. Later in her life, Lavita Wrenville was considered a recluse and an eccentric old maid. End of information.”
“Sheriff Milan, I hope it’s not the end of information or our conversations. I imagine you know all sorts of things, maybe more than anyone else, about history here.” She rewarded him with another dazzling smile that made him want to stop arguing with her. “I have been looking forward so much to meeting you.”
He could see why Dwight didn’t know how she had talked him into letting her wait in Wyatt’s office. It was difficult to keep his mind on his subject with her hanging on his every word, smiling at him constantly and sounding as if she might be talking to the most brilliant man in Verity. That plus her looks probably caused her to get her way almost 100 percent of the time. Of their own will, his eyes glanced down at her long legs. Just looking at them sparked desire. He didn’t want to give her an interview. He wanted to seduce her and then send her on her way.
“Maybe I can get you to change your mind about the interview,” she said in a breathy voice.
“You can try,” he replied with amusement.
“I think that will be a fun project.”
He found himself excited by the challenge. Yes, it was going to be difficult to say no to Destiny Jones.
With an effort he looked up again. He gazed into the green eyes that held him captive. His every nerve sizzled, his pulse quickened and his breathing altered. He wanted to reach for her and close the last bit of distance between them even though he knew this whole conversation was to get what she wanted from him.
“Sheriff Milan,” she drawled.
With an effort he sat straighter. “No interview,” he gasped, struggling to get his voice back to normal while fighting the urge to lean the last few inches and kiss her.
She smiled. “I hope you’ll change your mind. You’re part of this town and one of families involved in the famous feud and you’re sheriff—there would be a lot of interest.”
“I lead a quiet life. I don’t think I would be that interesting and the feud is fading, so I don’t care to bring it back into the limelight.”
She laughed, a sunny, contagious, merry sound that he could listen to all day. His mind groped for sanity and to get back to a factual, impersonal conversation. He felt as if he wanted to loosen his collar. Even more, he wanted to reach for her, to kiss that full mouth and feel her softness pressed against him. Lost in that mental picture, he struggled to remember what he had to discuss with her.
“Your limo is in my parking place and you have a ticket,” he blurted in an effort to get back to business. His voice came out with a husky note and it was difficult to think about business or anything except giving in to her or kissing her. He didn’t like that loss of control. He didn’t give in to his urges anymore, not after getting his heart broken by Katherine. “We’ve called to have the limo towed,” he said, beginning to gather his wits. “Where’s your driver?”
“I told him I’d call him when I’m through talking to you. He’s just looking at the town or getting coffee. He’s not far.”
“You need to get that limo moved now,” Wyatt declared, barely aware of what he said to her, also barely noticing that she had no reaction to his announcement that her limo would be towed.
“Oh, he will as soon as I’m finished here. I can be persistent, Sheriff Milan, when I want something,” she said. “I want to try to change your mind. You do change your mind sometimes, don’t you?” She asked in such a friendly, good-natured tone, he had to laugh.
“Yes, I can change my mind,” he replied, thinking she was the biggest challenge he had had in too long to remember. He couldn’t recall ever being so totally distracted. “Are you staying in Verity tonight, or somewhere else?” he said, knowing her answer but hoping for a different one.
“My staff and I are staying in the Verity Hotel.”
“A good place to stay. The Verity Hotel doesn’t have any unsolved mysteries or even ancient legends, but it’s an old hotel dating back to 1887. It burned in the early 1900s and was rebuilt. It has been remodeled several times including in 2002, as well as in the past three years when it was completely renovated. It’s a nice place to stay.”
As he talked, he continued to study her, struggling to drag his attention elsewhere. Her movie star, younger sister was breathtakingly beautiful, far more flirty, but Destiny was a combination of friendly charm and sensuality, a sexual appeal that set his pulse pounding. He suspected his reaction was generally the same as it was with every man she encountered.
“Did Mayor Nash tell you the history of Verity or the Wrenville house?”
“No,” she said. “He merely welcomed me to town and seemed happy that I had an interest in using the Wrenville house for one of my subjects. I have an appointment with him later this week.”
Wyatt wanted to say, I’ll bet you do. Instead, different words came out of his mouth. “Since you don’t know our history, let me take you to dinner tonight and I’ll tell you about it.” The words just popped out as if he had no control over what he said. For his own good he should get rid of this woman and avoid her as much as possible. Instead, he had invited her out. And dammit, he could not keep from hoping she would accept.
“How delightful,” she said, smiling again. “Thank you. I would love to go to dinner with you and hear about your life, Verity and the Wrenville house. I can send my limo to pick you up.”
Her words lifted the fog that had settled on his brain. Smiling, he shook his head. “Thanks. I’ll come to the hotel and get you. Seven?”
“Fine,” she said, standing and offering her hand.
He wrapped his fingers around hers, stepping closer to her at the same time. She didn’t step back, but instead continued to smile as she looked up at him. He was within inches, his hand holding hers, sending streaks of fire from the simple physical contact. She had a lush body made for love, and tonight, he intended to take her to dinner and afterward, to seduce her. And he hoped she would be willing in an effort to get what she wanted from him.
“It’s been interesting,” he said in a husky voice.
“But you wish I’d go away,” she said, softening her words with another one of her fabulous smiles.
“I didn’t say that I didn’t like you. You’re big city—we’re small town,” he said in a husky voice. “Charming, stunning and captivating.”
“Thank you, Sheriff Milan. How nice you are.”
“It’s Wyatt. I have a feeling we’ll see each other often while you’re here,” he said, wondering if she would be as enticing to kiss as he thought she might be.
“We’ll see each other,” she said, the breathless note returning to her voice. “I think hierarchy is on my side on this one. The governor of Texas trumps the sheriff of Verity. I came prepared. My sister has told me about you in great detail.”
He merely smiled, recalling how angry her sister had been with him the last hour they had spent together. She had wanted him to go back to California with her and she was accustomed to getting her way. When he had refused, it did not go well. If she’d planned to stay, he’d have broken up with her, but since she was leaving Verity forever, he played the affair to its end, even though he had grown tired of her and her appeal had fizzled.
He suspected her older sister was just as stubborn. In spite of Destiny’s smiles and polite charm, he continually felt their clash of wills.
He dropped her hand and headed to the door. As she walked beside him, he inhaled the scent of her mesmerizing perfume. He opened his office door and they walked out into the reception area where a group had gathered. Cameras flashed while people clamored noisily as they surged toward her.
Wyatt stepped in front of her, shielding her from the reporters that he easily recognized, two local, the others from the area and one from a Fort Worth station and one from Dallas. His deputy came forward to help, but Destiny stepped easily in front of Wyatt.
“I’ll be happy to answer your questions,” she said, smiling at the media.
“Not in here, please,” Wyatt said in an authoritative tone that caused a hush. “Folks, take the interview across the street. We have to conduct business here, not a press conference. Jeff, Millie, Duncan—outside, please,” Wyatt said, calling the names of the reporters that had the most influence. He knew nearly everyone in the crowd.
“We’ll go across the street,” Destiny said, smiling at the crowd and shaking someone’s outstretched hand.
Wyatt watched a man and a woman emerge from the crowd. He didn’t know them, but they flanked Destiny and he guessed they were two of her staff members.
“Dammit,” he said quietly, thinking about Destiny putting the Wrenville house—and, as a result, the Milans, the Calhouns and their feud—on television for the world to view. He didn’t think it would be any easier to keep her out of the Wrenville house than to get her out of his parking spot.
“I’m going to see Gyp,” he said tersely to his deputy.
He shook his head. “The mayor left for the day. He said to tell you he would see you in the morning.”
“Dammit,” Wyatt repeated, turning to go back into his office, figuring Gyp had ducked out on him because he knew Wyatt would be unhappy. Wyatt shook his head as he swore again. Townspeople would not be thrilled when Destiny Jones fanned the flames of old animosities.
Abruptly, Wyatt headed out the back door of city hall, circling to Main Street in long strides, hoping the limo was gone and her impromptu press conference was over. As he turned the corner, he stopped short. Not only was the red limo still in his parking place, but her audience had grown. In addition, a TV truck was parked down the street, lights had been set up and he could see men with video cameras. Shaking his head, Wyatt stared at the circus going on across the street. The lady knew how to draw a crowd. He made a mental note to get a private room for their dinner.
Wyatt scanned the crowd that spilled into the street and lined the sidewalk. He recognized Dustin Redwing and Pete Lee, two men who worked for him. He saw the curly white hair of Horace Pringle, the president of Verity’s largest bank. Ty Hemmings, the owner of the movie theater, was in the audience, along with several other shop owners. He spotted Farley White, his mechanic.
Wyatt knew nearly everyone in the gathering. He shook his head at the sight of Charlie Akin, the local eccentric who lived in a shack along the river in a neighboring county. Periodically, the river flooded, taking Charlie’s shack. He moved downriver or upriver, staying in the general area and built another shack, taking his goats and chickens with him. Wyatt wondered how Charlie had gotten word that Destiny Jones was in Verity.
Deputy Lambert stood nearby, watching the crowd, and Wyatt was certain his deputy was there out of a sense of duty. Wyatt continued studying the crowd, recognizing face after face, being only slightly surprised that Destiny had drawn such a gathering because she would draw attention wherever she went.
He looked at her as she answered a question. A breeze tugged long tendrils of her deep auburn hair. She looked like a movie star standing there in the sunshine while people asked her questions. She glanced his way. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, he felt as if she had reached out and touched him. Her gaze held his while she finished her answer. Then she turned to look at someone asking her a question.
His cell phone rang and he pulled it out to see he had a text from his brother Nick. “Dammit,” Wyatt said quietly, scanning Nick’s text.
Watching Destiny Jones in Verity on TV. Why didn’t you let us know? When can I meet her? How long will she be in Verity? The Wrenville murders?
As he read it he received another text, this one from his youngest brother, Tony, also wanting to know about Destiny. Wyatt shook his head and strode through the front door of city hall.
“Sheriff,” Dwight said, shaking his head, “Argus is dealing with two wrecked cars on the highway and he can’t tow the limo for several hours.”
“Okay. Val is across the street. Do you know if he found the driver?”
“He did. The man said he would move the limo when his boss told him to move it.”
Wyatt smiled and shook his head again. Was she doing this deliberately to get his attention? Beneath her smiles and charm was a strong will. He shook his head and went to his office to call Nick first on his private line.
“Nick, you have too many questions for a text. I didn’t know she was coming. Yes, I’ve met her. I don’t know about introducing you, but are you sure you want to meet her?”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Look at the crowd she’s drawn. If you didn’t know she was coming, then the town didn’t know,” Nick replied.
“I think that’s right.”
“She knows how to draw a crowd.”
“All she has to do is walk down the street.”
“Amen. You’ve got that right. Try to figure some way we can meet her. Tony’s already sent me a text. How come you’re not out there?”
“I’ve already met her, and my deputy is there.”
“So you’ve talked to her.”
“A little. I’ll get you the introduction, and I’ll call you about when and where.”
“Thanks, Wyatt. She said she’s staying at the Verity Hotel.”
“So she told everyone, including the press, where she’ll be. The lady does want attention. Don’t tell me you’re going to hang out in the lobby?”
Nick chuckled. “Hardly. No, I’ll meet her, but not that way. Thanks for calling.”
“I’ll keep in touch.”
Wyatt sent Tony a text. Three minutes later his phone rang.
“I’m watching Destiny Jones in Verity on TV.”
“I’m sure you are. I’ve talked to Nick and I promise I’ll introduce both of you sometime.”
“Cool. Don’t forget. Right now you’re missing her interview.”
“I’ll live. Talk to you soon, Tony.” Wyatt picked up an iPad from his desk and switched to the television cable to pick up her interview. He watched her deftly field questions, give answers that would bring laughter and generally captivate the audience. He gazed at her green eyes and auburn hair. It wouldn’t matter if she had mumbled and had nothing to say. She was gorgeous and charming and her audience was enchanted.
Wyatt’s jaw clamped shut a little more tightly as he listened to her talk about wanting to learn about Lavita Wrenville and how fascinating Verity’s history was, including the Milan-Calhoun feud. Each minute he watched her his hopes sank lower because at dinner he had hoped to discourage her from using the unsolved murders at the Wrenville house for a show. There would be no way, now that she’d spoken about it to the media, that she’d pack up and go back to Chicago.
He thought about her parking the red limo in his space. That had not been a casual, thoughtless event. She wanted the town’s attention and she had known exactly what she was doing then, just as she knew what she was doing now in talking to the crowd that was still growing. Shortly, he would have to go out there and break it up because they would be blocking traffic on Main if many more people came to watch her.
Even as he thought that and watched, she told the crowd farewell. A man stepped in front of her and a woman moved on one side of her. To Wyatt’s surprise Val moved beside her on the other side as a second woman fell in behind them. They crossed the street, the man in the lead clearing the way while a smaller crowd flowed with her. When they reached the red limo, the man leading the way held the door. She turned to smile and wave at the crowd, thanking them, throwing them a kiss and then vanishing into the limo, followed by the two women, the tinted windows hiding the interior. In seconds the limo slowly eased from the curb and the crowd dispersed.
He switched off the iPad and stood, rubbing the back of his neck.
He had mixed feelings about dinner with her, but his desire to spend the evening with her outweighed his dislike of having to deal with her about the Wrenville murders and the old family feud. Seven o’clock couldn’t come too soon.
Wyatt nodded. This might be a night to remember.
