Книга - Sheriff Takes A Bride

Sheriff Takes A Bride
Gayle Kaye


FAMILYMATTERSTHE LAWMAN AND THE LADYHallie Cates's biological clock was ticking, but there was nary a husband on the horizon. Then she returned to her hometown and discovered Cam Osborne–a gorgeous small-town sheriff straight out of her dreams. He was everything she wanted in a man, but he'd sworn off commitment. And although she tried to steer clear of the handsome lawman, Cam was impossible to resist.Avowed loner Cam liked his bachelor life-style–until he butted heads with the lovely schoolteacher over her law-breaking grandmother. Sweet Hallie with her down-home values was a lady worth chasing. Only problem was, Hallie was the kind of woman a man married, and Cam wasn't looking for a wife…was he?Kisses, kids, cuddles and kin. The best things in life are found in families!







“Hello, Cam,” (#udb8b76b0-5f31-592e-a9e0-beadb4b5be75)Letter to Reader (#u1dfefe01-c341-52b3-86cd-8acc33ec45b3)Title Page (#u1af05252-7007-5433-9d94-92d392e06241)Dedication (#uc6950e8c-ca56-5f29-8a54-ab7841c95b00)About the Author (#ueb1bcacc-fca0-5c8e-8ff4-1f956b1a2ef1)Letter to Reader (#ue2b39f51-d4f0-547b-ae47-b32f322a3d86)Chapter One (#u4b19191e-149a-50df-9f2f-7f108651898e)Chapter Two (#u966ec955-c0d1-5009-9bae-17d266a91cf0)Chapter Three (#u8b9130c8-838b-565a-b0a8-c78ed0b85355)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“Hello, Cam,”

Hallie said as he neared the porch.

Cam’s breath stopped for just a second, at the sight of Hallie. Her hair was tucked up and held in place with a tortoiseshell comb, but wispy tendrils escaped here and there and teased at the blush on her cheeks.

She’d changed into a pair of white shorts that made her legs look a good mile longer than they already were, and all too shapely for his peace of mind. Her top was a pretty shade of mint—and made her green eyes look big and wide in the evening twilight. If he’d ever wanted to touch a woman, it was this woman...at this moment.

But what about forever?


Dear Reader,

March roars in like a lion at Silhouette Romance, starting with popular author Susan Meier and Husband from 9 to 5, her exciting contribution to LOVING THE BOSS, a six-book series in which office romance leads to happily-ever-after. In this sparkling story, a bump on the head has a boss-loving woman believing she’s married to the man of her dreams....

In March 1998, beloved author Diana Palmer launched VIRGIN BRIDES. This month, Callaghan’s Bride not only marks the anniversary of this special Romance promotion, but it continues her wildly successful LONG, TALL TEXANS series! As a rule, hard-edged, hard-bodied Callaghan Hart distrusted sweet, virginal, starry-eyed young ladies. But ranch cook Tess Brady had this cowboy hankerin’ to break all his rules.

Judy Christenberry’s LUCKY CHARM SISTERS miniseries resumes with a warm, emotional pretend engagement story that might just lead to A Ring for Cinderella. When a jaded attorney delivers a very pregnant stranger’s baby, he starts a journey toward healing... and making this woman his Texas Bride, the heartwarming new novel by Kate Thomas. In Soldier and the Society Girl by Vivian Leiber, the month’s HE’S MY HERO selection, sparks fly when a true-blue, true-grit American hero requires the protocol services of a refined blue blood. A lonewolf lawman meets his match in an indomitable schoolteacher—and her moonshining granny—in Gayle Kaye’s Sheriff Takes a Bride, part of FAMILY MATTERS.

Enjoy this month’s fantastic offerings, and make sure to return each and every month to Silhouette Romance!






Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

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Sheriff Takes a Bride

Gayle Kaye







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To the Gopher Girls,

Mary, Zeidi and the one

who always got caught


GAYLE KAYE

lives in Kansas City, Missouri, and finds the Midwest a rich setting for romance novels. Her first romance in 1989 reached the finals of the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest; a second was nominated by Romantic Times Magazine as Best Silhouette Romance of the year. A wife, a mom, a nurse, she draws from many life experiences for her ideas. Her passions include her husband, her kids, traveling, reading and, of course, writing romances.

Gayle loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 29275, Parkville, MO 64152.


Dear Reader,

I was excited to learn Sheriff Takes a Bride is part of Silhouette’s new promotion, FAMILY MATTERS. Families today can be far from the typical family of the “Leave It to Beaver” days, but the key ingredient remains: love. In all my stories love abounds, love accomplishes, love encourages and love protects.

I believe in the power of family relationships. I can draw from my own experience as a single mom raising two daughters and finally meeting my very own Prince Charming, of the hardships endured and the love that was gained. I’ve written about these single moms, giving them their own unique stories.

We all have a cherished family member, one in whom we can put our trust, one who nurtures and encourages us. For Hallie Cates in Sheriff Takes a Bride that person is her independent and often cantankerous grandmother. Hallie has her job cut out for her trying to corral the moonshining Granny Pearl—and it doesn’t help that the local sheriff, Cam Osborne, has arrested the woman for her illicit trade. Or that he believes Hallie is involved.

Family means everything to Hallie and, in its own way, to Cam. But can love prevail between the two of them? It takes Granny Pearl to see that they have “family” potential.







Chapter One

“Hallie, I need you. You gotta come.”

Hallie Cates had never heard such a tremor in Granny Pearl’s voice before. Her grandmother was headstrongly in charge of her own life. Always. Something was definitely wrong.

Hallie abandoned the cookies she’d just taken from the oven and shifted the phone on her shoulder. “Granny Pearl, what is it? Are you all right?”

“No—I’m far from all right. In fact, I might never be all right again.”

There. Hallie heard the old familiar spunk she always associated with Granny Pearl. She drew an easier breath, if only for the moment. The seventy-nine-year-old woman lived all alone, tucked away in tiny, backwards—to Hallie’s way of thinking. Greens Hollow, Arkansas, but it was home to Granny Pearl. And the old girl vehemently refused to budge from there.

“I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t important, Hallie.” The woman snuffled. Or maybe it was the scratchiness of the phone system in the Ozark hill country.

“You know you can call me anytime, Granny Pearl. Now, calm down and tell me what it is.”

Granny could take care of herself, even reveled in the fact, claimed she’d be carried out of her cabin feet first and no other way. And Hallie wasn’t sure she could change her mind on that score. Still, she worried about her relative.

“This... horrible cuss of a varmint has arrested me. Locked me up and won’t let me go home. I need to feed George and Myrtle.”

Granny’s voice quavered again at the last Hallie heard it, knew her grandmother would be upset to be away from her two pesky goats, but she suspected the animals would somehow survive. It was Granny Pearl she was concerned about

“Arrested? Granny, there must be some mistake.” Who would arrest a harmless little old lady, and for what? Jaywalking across the town’s lone hilly street that saw maybe four cars and six dogs in the way of traffic in any twenty-four hour period?

“He’s locked me up and throwed away the key. I’m sure he means to feed me bread and water for supper—if I even get supper.”

Granny’s voice sounded strong. And mad. Hallie took that as a good sign. When Granny Pearl got her dander up, the earth shook around her. In fact, maybe Hallie should have a little charitable pity for the poor sheriff.

“Let me talk to Sheriff Potts, Granny Pearl.” Hallie would settle this.

“It’s not Sheriff Potts. We buried him six months ago. This...varmint’s a new breed. And not from these parts.”

Hallie was sorry to hear about Virgil Potts. She remembered him from summers she’d spent with Granny in Greens Hollow. “Then let me talk to this new var—man,” she said, correcting herself. “I’m sure I can straighten everything out.”

Granny laid the phone down. Hallie heard a quick, muffled conversation, complete with a little ripe cussing from Granny Pearl, then a deep male voice came on the line.

There was nothing scratchy about the phone line now. It fairly rumbled with the low, earthy voice. Hallie felt it tingle across her nerve endings like sandpaper over new skin. She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Sheriff,” she said coolly, “just what is it my grandmother’s supposed to have done?”

Sheriff Cam Osborne heard the tension in Hallie Cates’s voice ripple across the wire. He couldn’t help but wonder if the woman was the she-lion her granny was. And what the granddaughter from Fort Worth would say if she knew Granny Pearl had sunk her teeth into his right arm in a moment of nonvigilance on his part. That was a mistake he wasn’t about to make again—even if he had to lock the old gal up in solitary until her temper cooled a bit. If it ever did.

It would probably be one cold day in hell.

“She’s been charged with a couple of things, the most serious being selling moonshine to half the county.” He’d keep the resisting arrest and assaulting an officer of the law with a seventy-nine-year-old set of choppers for later. At least until he knew what kind of woman Pearl Cates’s pretty granddaughter was. He hated to admit he was interested. He’d seen her picture standing in a frame on the mantel over Granny’s fireplace. Thick red hair, worn loose to her shoulders, high blushing cheekbones and a sweet little mouth that just begged to be kissed.

But that he knew he had no business thinking about Who even knew if Hallie Cates would come to her grandmother’s rescue? Hadn’t Pearl said her granddaughter didn’t come back to Arkansas very often?

He took some vague satisfaction at her small gasp. “Moonshine? Why... why Granny Pearl would never... She wouldn’t... I mean, Sheriff, there must be some mistake.”

And she clearly implied he’d made it Cam sniffed the cork of the hundred-proof “evidence” he’d confiscated from his prisoner, nearly becoming looped from the stuffs fumes. Oh, the old woman was guilty all right Not to mention, downright unrepentant about her little...business. “Trust me, Ms. Cates, there’s been no mistake.”

Another small gasp, this one sounding more like an irate sigh. “How could you even think one sweet, docile, little old lady would break the law? Why, Granny is—”

“Neither sweet, nor docile,” he interrupted the tirade she was only just warming to. From her spot beside him, Granny Pearl was giving him the devil eye. The woman was just lucky he hadn’t handcuffed her to that chair she was sitting on. No, she was hardly sweet. And as for docile...?

He rubbed the bite mark on his arm.

“Okay, okay, so Granny may be a little...feisty.” Hallie Cates admitted from her end of the line. “But she’s as honest and law-abiding as the day is long. And I can vouch for that.”

Cam dragged a hand through his dark hair. They were getting nowhere here. “I’m sure you’ll get an opportunity to voice your opinion in court,” he told her, “but for now—”

Cam had to hold the phone away from his ear. “Just what kind of a low-down poleskunk are you to throw a little old lady in the clink and feed her nothing but bread and water for supper?” The woman’s blast was nearly deafening.

“Give him hell, Hallie!” Granny yelped, joining in the fracas from this end. She’d gotten to her feet and was threatening Cam with balled fists.

It wouldn’t take much for him to lock both women in a cell for a year or two. What had ever made him think a job as small-town sheriff might be preferable to the vicissitudes of the Chicago police force? He had to be crazy.

No—he wasn’t. It was the world. The world was crazy. Here, everywhere. He’d only thought he’d escaped it.

Cam didn’t relish the reputation he was sure to get for locking up a seventy-nine-year-old, and a woman, at that. But the law was the law. And Cam didn’t bend it. Not in Chicago—and not here.

“Well, Sheriff?”

Cam ordered Pearl back to her chair, then returned his attention to the voice on the other end. He suspected under other circumstances it could be velvety, caressing a man’s soul, not to mention his well-fired hormones. “The menu tonight is planked steak and green beans, with a side of biscuits. And I might suggest you don’t believe everything your sweet little grandmother tells you, Ms. Cates.”

It was all Cam could say at the moment. He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with Pearl Cates. Or with her granddaughter, who would no doubt be showing up soon, wrapped in plenty of fury and indignation, to save Pearl from the town’s heartless sheriff.

Hallie hated driving the winding back roads that led to Greens Hollow. At night they were much more than winding, they were downright dangerous. But the rude, unfeeling sheriff had left her no choice but to drop everything and race to the small town. That was, unless she wanted Granny to be spending a night alone in jail, at the man’s mercy—something of which Sheriff Cam Osborne had little, if any, she suspected.

She’d hastily thrown clothes into a suitcase, wrapped up the cookies she’d baked, deciding to take them to Granny, and headed off down the highway.

School was out for the summer, and her class of second-graders would be going off to camp, swimming, having fun—and Hallie would miss them. She’d planned a full summer schedule for herself as well, one that hadn’t included bailing her grandmother out of jail.

She’d intended to try her hand at tennis lessons, read a few books she’d been saving for a lazy sunny afternoon on the side porch, maybe take a language course—Russian or Eastern Tibetan—whatever struck her fancy.

But Granny Pearl needed her.

It was ten o’clock by the time Hallie drew up in front of the sheriff’s office. It was a small stone building that had been around for at least half a century, newer than most of the places in or around Greens Hollow. Every light inside was blazing, which meant that Cam Osborne hadn’t locked Granny in for the night and gone home, leaving the old woman alone and frightened.

If he had, he’d have had to answer to Hallie.

Hallie slammed the door to her small, overheated red Subaru, trying to keep her mind on rescuing Granny. If only the old girl would move to Fort Worth with her, it would make Hallie’s life simpler, she thought as she hurried toward the front entrance.

“Cheating? I am not cheating! You, Sheriff, are wrong. I never cheat.”

“Or make moonshine either, I suppose?”

Hallie recognized the deep resonant voice following Granny’s as the one she’d heard earlier on the phone.

A checkers game was in hot progress through the cell bars, Granny on the unfortunate side of them. Hallie stood and stared, curious to see if Granny could hold her own against the man who held her captive, both literally and otherwise.

“I saw you move that checker, you sneaky old woman—and you’re not going to get away with it,” came the sheriff’s reply.

“Prove it, Cam Osbome!”

Hallie hid a smile at Granny’s ornery rejoinder and wondered if the man would back down. He didn’t look the type to do any such thing. She took in the width of his shoulders. Unless she missed her guess, the man could wrestle a bear as easily as he could a little old lady who cheated at checkers. Maybe, just maybe, Granny had met her match with Cam Osborne.

His long legs were stretched out in front of him, sheathed in faded denim that fit him like a second skin. His shirt was a dusky blue and fit him just as sensually. Thick dark hair, worn a little long, curled over his shirt collar, and Hallie found herself wondering at its silkiness, what it might be like to delve her fingers into its richness. Quickly she checked that thought.

“Game’s over, Granny.” He folded the game board, sending checkers flying.

There was a spate of cussing from Granny before she spotted Hallie over the man’s broad shoulders.

“Hallie! Thank God you’re here. This brute is no gentleman.”

“And you, Pearl Cates, are no lady.”

Ignoring Granny’s loud harumph, he turned toward Hallie and stuck out a hand. “Sheriff Cam Osborne,” he said.

Hallie glanced at the man’s hand, debating about taking it. It was broad and sensual. Capable. Of what, she didn’t want to think about. It would swallow hers up without a doubt and she’d feel the tingle all the way to her toes. And she wasn’t sure she should risk that—not at the moment. If she were wise, not ever.

“Sheriff,” she said coolly.

The man’s eyes were a beguiling brown, his jaw strong and slightly arrogant, the kind that invited a fight or two on a Saturday night—and she didn’t have to guess who would come out the winner. His smile was slow and tempting when he chose to let it slip.

“I want out of here, Hallie. Tell this man to let me go.” Granny had her wizened face pressed to the bars, and Hallie had the sense that if the woman could get her hands on Cam Osborne at the moment she’d let loose with one good roundhouse punch.

Not that it would have a whole lot of impact on that granite body of his.

“I intend to do just that, Granny,” Hallie said, then ignoring the sheriff, went to give her grandmother a big warm hug, albeit through the cell bars.

“I brought you your favorite cookies, Granny,” she told the woman and saw a smile light her face.

“Bring ’em to me now,” she said. “That supper I got wasn’t enough to feed a carrier pigeon. I’m starved.”

“They’re out in my car. I’ll get them,” Hallie said.

When she returned with the plate of cookies wrapped in aluminum foil the sheriff had other ideas. “I, uh, need to check those before you hand them over to my...prisoner.” he said.

Hallie rolled her eyes. “Aw, come on, Sheriff, you think I baked a hacksaw blade in one of these little chocolate chippers?”

A slight smile touched his sexy mouth. “Where a Cates is concerned, a man can’t be too careful.”

Hallie handed him the plate and waited indignantly while he peeled back the foil. “I suppose they look safe enough.” He took one from the plate and popped it into his mouth.

“Well, Sheriff, if you didn’t bite into anything that will saw through bars, may I give these to my grandmother?”

He waved a hand magnanimously. “Be my guest.”

The nerve of the man, suspecting her of subterfuge, suspecting Granny of...anything, and locking the poor soul up like she was some...common criminal.

“Hallie, you do make the best cookies,” Granny said and took a fistful as if she might never get another morsel of food.

The dear probably thought she’d never again see the light of day, either. And that was a situation Hallie intended to remedy—and fast. “Excuse me, Granny Pearl. I have a few things to say to the sheriff.”

“Go get him, Hallie!” Granny said and snatched the entire plate from Hallie’s hands.

Not the best move. She might have been able to use the cookies as a bargaining tool in demanding Granny’s release. Now she’d have to depend on the man’s reasonable side—providing he had one.

She approached his desk and sat down in the lone chair beside it, crossing one jean-clad leg over the other. Her foot and leg pumped, revealing her nervousness. She’d never tried to bargain with the law before, not even over a speeding ticket.

She supposed anger wouldn’t work, though she had a lot of it. She suspected wheedling would get her nowhere either, and she’d never been very good at that anyway. Reason—it was the only thing worth attempting.

“Sheriff...” Hallie struggled for calm. “I—I’m sure we can work this out if we discuss it like two sane, sensible people.” She smiled as if to say, she’d try if he would.

“Batting those eyes isn’t going to get you anywhere, Ms. Cates,” he said superiorly. “Neither will flashing that pretty smile at me, delightful though it may be.”

“Why, of all the arrogant—! I did not bat my eyes. And my smile, Cam Osborne, was an attempt at graciousness. Obviously that’s something you wouldn’t recognize if it jumped up and bit you on your backside,” she retorted, her hackles up and on alert.

He grinned at that and Hallie wriggled in the chair. Damn, his office was close, stuffy. She wanted to throw open a window, take off a layer or two of clothing, except that she was wearing the minimum—jeans and a lightweight turtleneck top.

But she refused to let the man see her sweat. Or blush. Unfortunately she could control neither.

“I demand to know what proof you have against my grandmother,” she said crisply.

“Uh, Hallie...” Granny called from the cell doors behind Hallie’s chair.

“Not now, Granny Pearl. The sheriff and I are discussing...evidence.”

“But, Hallie...”

Hallie ignored the warning tone in Granny Pearl’s voice. A mistake, she realized when she saw the smug smile displayed on Cam’s lips. He rocked back in his big chair, entirely too sure of himself.

“Proof, Ms. Cates?” he asked, definitely baiting her.

Hallie felt a slow trickle of perspiration zigzag its way into her cleavage. She had the distinct feeling she’d played right into the man’s hands. Was that what Granny Pearl had been trying to tell her? Was that feisty, ornery little old woman guilty after all?

No, Hallie wouldn’t believe it.

The man lowered the front legs of his chair to the floor with enough force to splinter wood. He reached for the lower desk drawer and yanked it open. “Proof Ms. Cates,” he said, extracting a jug of some sort from its interior.

The jug was tucked neatly inside a plastic bag, but even through the plastic Hallie could smell the contents.

Cam smiled. The woman seated beside his desk was turning a lovely shade of pink, and he found her intriguing. That signaled danger—danger he’d do well to heed. She was prettier than her picture, he decided. Much prettier, in a fragile, don’t touch sort of way. And damned if he didn’t want to touch.

Her long red locks fell in soft curls to her shoulders, tumbling in a too-tempting array of sun-kissed color. And scented—like warm outdoors, with a hint of apple blossoms. God, but he was sounding like a sentimental idiot. Maybe he’d been away from the harsh city streets too long; he was getting soft around the edges.

That had not been his plan when he’d left his past behind. He needed to maintain his edge, that hard streak he’d learned so well back in Chicago. Hell, the edge he’d been born with. It would be a real joke to be taken down by one tall, leggy woman, no matter how gorgeous she was.

Still, the look on Hallie Cates’s face told Cam she was the one who was vulnerable at the moment. He saw the shadow of doubt that drew her well-shaped eyebrows together in a frown of worry when he’d produced the “evidence”, the soft wrinkle of her nose at the smell emanating from the bottle he’d confiscated from Granny’s well-hidden still. He had Pearl Cates dead to rights.

Hallie stiffened in her chair and directed her pretty gaze at him. “I’m sure there’s some explanation, a reasonable one, one that will clear Granny of your so-called charges,” she said, though with more bravado than conviction to her voice.

Cam found himself feeling sorry for her. He cast a glance at Pearl who paced the floor of her cell, chewing on a fingernail. He only hoped she bit all ten to a nub before she got the peevish idea to rake those nails across his face. The woman was wicked, he already knew from her bite, and he rubbed the spot on his arm as a reminder not to tangle with the wiry five-foot-two woman in the future.

The gesture caught Hallie’s attention and she stared down at his injury, just below his rolled-up shirtsleeve. “What happened to your arm?” she asked with curiosity mingled with a certain wariness. “Those...those look like teeth marks.”

“And every one of ’em are mine,” Granny announced proudly from her cell. “How many seventy-year-olds can boast of having a full set?”

Just his luck the old woman did. “Your age, Pearl, is seventy-nine, not seventy,” Cam reminded. He couldn’t resist a smile at Hallie’s mouth, which had closed with surprise at Granny’s admission.

“I—I’m sorry, sorry about the...bite,” she said quietly, chagrined. “I can’t imagine what possessed her to...to...”

“Forget it,” he answered. “The old gal got the better of me. It’s not something that happens often.”

His words were a warning, Hallie suspected. The man was tough, down to his very last well-hewn muscle. She was curious what he was doing in these parts. No one came here unless they’d been born and raised in these mountains. The place was isolated, not to mention backwards, full of gossip. Hallie had only just gotten here, and already she was anxious to get back to Fort Worth. That was, after she cleared Granny Pearl, and the two of them had a good visit.

Perhaps she’d try once again to convince the elderly woman to move to Texas with her. Granny could be stubborn on the subject, but Hallie hated the thought of her being in that little cabin all alone, away from a hospital or doctor. The closest clinic was less than thirty miles away, as the crow flew, but much farther by car over the winding back roads. Granny had a car but she wasn’t that proficient a driver—and limited herself to buying her groceries at the small general store in Greens Hollow.

“Quit gabbin’ with that man and get onto the business of springin’ me,” Granny called to Hallie from behind the bars.

Hallie glanced at Cam and thought she saw him hide a quick grin, but she couldn’t be sure. Did he get a kick out of the old woman? Or did he want to get home? Just then the thought occurred to Hallie that he might have a wife waiting for him at that home, not to mention a houseful of little ones.

Then she thought again. The man didn’t look like the type who wanted a wife. He had an attitude, and it wasn’t one that rang with domesticity.

Hallie didn’t have time to consider Cam further. He was studying her curiously—and she didn’t want him to know she’d been thinking about him. Granny. Granny Pearl was the reason she was here in Greens Hollow—the only reason.

And she’d do well to remember that.

“About my grandmother,” she said. “I demand you spring...uh, release her. She’s elderly and shouldn’t be spending even one night in jail.”

“Not that easy, Ms. Cates. Your granny’s been accused of a crime. There’ll need to be a hearing—”

“A...hearing.” Of course. That would clear her grandmother, she was sure. “How soon?” she asked cautiously.

“Five weeks from today—at the county seat. Judge McBain.”

“Five weeks! Certainly you don’t mean to keep her locked up until...? I mean, what about bail? Releasing her on her own recognizance?” Hallie didn’t know much about legalities—but there was such a thing as rights.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t want to keep that woman under lock and key any longer than I have to,” he said. He leaned back in his desk chair, observing Granny Pearl for a moment over Hallie’s left shoulder. “Tell you what,” he said, righting the chair again. “I could be persuaded to release her into your custody until then—”

“Of course,” Hallie answered without hesitation and rose from her seat as if that settled it.

“Ms. Cates, not so fast.”

“I said I agreed.”

He smiled slowly. “I was about to add, provided you accept full responsibility for your grandmother’s actions, see she keeps to the straight and narrow, doesn’t skip the country—”

Hallie gave an exasperated sigh. “Sheriff, this is all ridiculous. My grandmother is not a criminal. Of course, she’ll obey the law.”

“Right,” he answered slowly. “And dogs don’t hunt.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked tersely.

“It means, dear Hallie, that you’re gonna have your hands full with Ma Barker over there.” He hooked a thumb in Granny’s direction.

At the moment the woman looked positively angelic. Hallie shoved the jail keys across the desk at him. “Just open up, Sheriff, so I can take my grandmother home.”


Chapter Two

Granny prattled on all the way to her cabin, not giving Hallie an inch of an opening, not a single chance to ask the big question: innocent or guilty? But for tonight Hallie wasn’t sure she wanted an answer from the woman. She was tired from her long drive here, cranky from dealing with Cam Osborne and with Granny, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse into Granny’s spare feather bed, snuggle into the sheets line-dried in the Arkansas sunshine and let sleep take her.

Tomorrow, or the day after, would be soon enough to tackle the truth—if Granny Pearl would give it to her—and to seek legal counsel for her.

Hallie could just picture the little old lady in court, cussing out the judge, the hunk of a man who arrested her, and the world in general. It would not be a pretty sight—and one Hallie hoped they wouldn’t have to face.

George and Myrtle met them at the gate as Hallie turned her unflagging little Subaru into the drive. She saw why Granny was so devoted to the pair. They were cute, with their little black faces, their curiosityfilled eyes and friendly, brayed greeting.

“Oh, my little children are hungry,” Granny said and was struggling with the passenger door handle before Hallie had brought the car to a full stop.

The creatures could survive easily on the grass they kept close-cropped in Granny’s yard, not to mention the goodies they “stole” from her trash barrel, Hallie knew. But Granny insisted on feeding them extras—like her special corn bread, or whatever it was she had for her own supper each evening.

The woman was out of the car and hurrying, as nimble-footed as her goats, toward the back door. While Hallie struggled with her luggage in the trunk, Granny was back with two metal tins piled high with what looked suspiciously like her wonderful homemade honey biscuits. Hallie’s tummy rumbled and for a moment she was envious of the goats. What she wouldn’t give for a couple of those biscuits, warm from that old oven of Granny’s.

“I hope you saved one or two of those for the person who sprang you from jail,” Hallie teased as she carried her suitcase toward the cabin.

“Oh, Hallie, you must be thinking’ I’m a silly old woman.” She dropped the tins and affectionately admonished the goats to eat with manners, then raced toward her granddaughter. “I reckon you must be hungry as a bear after that trek of yours all the way from Texas. Come on in the kitchen, girl.”

It was nearly eleven, but Granny put on a spread anyway, every leftover in her small, antiquated refrigerator, plus the remainder of her honey biscuits, complete with her to-die-for raspberry jam.

Hallie knew if she was going to be eating Granny’s cooking she’d have to increase her exercise proportionately. And first off would be a walk through the piney woods that surrounded Granny’s property to search for that so-called still Cam Osborne claimed Granny was putting to use.

She just hoped she didn’t find one.

By the time Hallie had the dishes washed, Granny sat dozing in her rocker. How innocent she looked lost in sleep, her white hair spiked here and there in disarray, as if she’d been dragging a worried hand through it. Her skin was a soft, well-earned fine pattern of wrinkles, the pale pink blush on her cheeks natural and demure.

In repose she hardly looked like a moonshining grandmother. She didn’t look like a woman who would sink her teeth into a man’s arm, either—but Hallie had seen the evidence below Cam’s shirtsleeve.

“C’mon, Granny Pearl, let’s get you into bed, pronto,” Hallie said, stirring her gently.

Granny mumbled something incoherent, something that sounded like...wh’ lightnin’—which Hallie didn’t exactly find reassuring.

In the morning she would definitely have to have that look around Granny’s place—every square inch of it.

Cam didn’t have a clue how he happened to find himself on the road to Pearl Cates’s small cabin, but damned if that wasn’t where his four-by-four was headed.

If he were wise he’d breeze right on past the old woman’s property, maybe find that favorite stream of his, dig out the fishing rod he always carried with him, sit on the bank and sink a line—then spend the remainder of his afternoon forgetting Granny Pearl’s redheaded granddaughter. And what she’d done to his usually peaceful night’s slumber.

So she had glorious high cheekbones that glowed with the warm blush of summer, a pert little mouth—with that sassy tone not unlike her granny’s—and green eyes a man could drown in if he were so inclined.

But Cam wasn’t inclined.

He didn’t intend to make room for a woman in his life ever again. When a smart man got burned, he didn’t get near the flame a second time—and Cam considered himself a smart man.

He was only checking up on Pearl, he told himself, as he took the right fork toward her cabin in the woods. It was just a professional visit to be sure the old gal was keeping to the straight and narrow. And away from that still of hers.

Hallie was a bright woman, but he suspected she could be blinded by love—and she loved Granny Pearl. All of Greens Hollow did. Cam knew just how popular he’d be when the folks around here learned he’d brought the little old lady in and charged her with selling local lightning—especially when it cut off the supply for some of the town’s denizens.

He doubted Granny Pearl would admit the truth to her granddaughter. On the contrary, she’d have Hallie believing Cam was the meanest man in the county, a man who picked on little old ladies, kicked dogs and dewinged butterflies.

Was that his reason for stopping by the Cates place? Was he afraid Granny would paint a villainous picture of him to Hallie?

Why should he care if Hallie thought him a louse, a blackguard? He didn’t care. It was his job to uphold the law—and that’s all he was doing.

He turned the black Cherokee into the gravel drive and caught himself searching around for Hallie. But he found only George and Myrtle, those two silly creatures who butted any man who came onto Granny’s property or meant the old girl harm.

They didn’t much like Cam. In fact, last time he was here they’d tried their best to render him a soprano for the rest of his days. Cam had had to be plenty fast on his feet to save his manhood and other much-needed body parts.

He was just wondering if there was any chance of winning the two critters over when he glanced up and saw Hallie coming out the front door of the cabin. His breath caught in his throat. The afternoon sun cutting through the trees caught the red in her hair, releasing its fire. Was her passion as fire-hot? Damned if he didn’t wish he could sample it—just once.

“What brings you out here, Sheriff?” Her green eyes sparked with cool ice. “Searching for more little old ladies to arrest, are you?”

Her words hurt, but Cam wasn’t about to admit it, even to himself. “Are you going to shoot me on the spot or may I come in?” He indicated the gate that stood between them, the watch goats protecting it. Protecting her from the likes of him.

She seemed to consider her options, and taking her sweet time to do it, too. “That all depends,” she said finally, crossing her arms and eyeing. him cautiously.

“On what?”

“On whether or not this is an...official visit.”

Why did he have the feeling that whichever way he answered he was in trouble? If he said “official” she’d have her dander up royally, and if he said “friendly”, well, let’s just say, she didn’t exactly look...friendly toward him at the moment.

“I just happened to be passing by,” he parried. At least that was partly true. “I wanted to be sure Granny hadn’t suffered any ill effects from her...time in jail.”

That part Cam meant as well. He kind of liked the old woman, even if she was dangerous with those choppers of hers. As for her granddaughter...

Those blue jeans hugged her slender legs and shapely hips a little too delightfully for him to ignore at the moment. Her pert chin was raised a fractious notch, her mouth pursed like she’d just tasted an Arkansas persimmon—which only served to fire up his libido all the more. Her arms, crossed over her soft blouse, hid the shape of her breasts from view, but Cam had perfect recall from last night. Hallie Cates was missing nothing in the shape department.

Before Hallie could answer for her grandmother’s health Granny appeared behind her on the porch. “What you awantin’, Cam Osborne?” she barked in her unfriendliest voice.

“Good afternoon to you too, Granny Pearl,” Cam said wryly, which seemed to take Granny aback for a moment.

“Don’t go gettin’ all smart-alecky with me, Sheriff,” she said sharply. “I may be old, but I can still whup the likes of you.”

Hallie hid a slow grin and cadged a peek at Cam. He’d enjoyed Granny’s boast—and even looked like he might like to take the old girl on. That gave Hallie pause—Granny wouldn’t win with the man.

No woman would, she suspected.

That sent a tingle of something skittering through her, something akin to...heat. Cam Osbome was a very good-looking man. She hadn’t missed that fact last night, nor did she overlook it now. He stood as tall and rugged as a tree, his body every bit as hard, she suspected. The breeze feathered his dark hair, teasing it as a lover might. His face was all angles and planes, and every one of them pleasant to look at.

Granny had mentioned over breakfast this morning that the sheriff was single, that he’d come here from Chicago two years ago when Sheriff Potts had become ill and was forced to retire.

“And nothin’ ain’t been the same around here since,” Granny had lamented.

Looking at Cam Osborne now, Hallie could believe he was a man who would change things. When he kissed a woman she’d stay kissed. He’d no doubt rattle her senses, as well as her good judgment.

“Hallie, you can stand here talking to this man all day if you want, but I got things that need doin’,” Granny said and turned back toward the door. Hand on the screen she paused and glowered back at Cam. “You ain’t come here on any more funny business, have you, Sheriff?”

“Funny business?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Like haulin’ me back to that jail of yours.”

“That all depends, Pearl. Have you been moonshining again?”

Granny wouldn’t answer, just harumphed loudly and disappeared back inside the cabin.

Cam laughed low and long. Hallie added a glower of her own at the man, then reached for a quart fruit basket on the porch. “I have some raspberries to pick, so if you’ll excuse me, Sheriff...” she said, leaving her sentence—and her meaning—hanging. Hallie didn’t want Cam hanging around.

Instead Cam slipped open the latch on the gate. “I’m pretty good at berry picking,” he said. “That is, if you don’t mind some company.”

She gave him a slow, evaluating glance. “Suit yourself,” she said. “But...you’d better watch out for George and Myrtle.”

If she’d hoped that word of caution would give him second thoughts about joining her, she’d been wrong. Cam snapped the gate closed behind him and made his way toward her, giving George and Myrtle a wide berth as he did so.

She had to grin at his wariness. It was nice to know the big, tough sheriff possessed a little fear at times.

“Where are these berry bushes?” he asked, falling into step beside her.

“Not far.”

She kept moving, all too aware of him beside her.

He had that clean, fresh scent of a man, a mixture of soap and after-shave, and at the moment it was having a decided effect on her. His long legs could cover the terrain far quicker than she could, but he adjusted his stride to match hers. He moved with an easy grace, all-male and self-assured. There was a power to him that made her feel... vulnerable. And it was not a feeling she liked.

She didn’t need to go losing her head over Cam Osborne or any man, especially one from Greens Hollow again. She’d learned that lesson one summer long ago. And she hadn’t forgotten it.

Maybe it was why she didn’t come back here to visit as often as she should. Or maybe it was just that her life in Fort Worth was so full, so busy. It was where she’d gone to heal, and for the most part, she had—except for that one tiny part of her she knew never could.

Hallie bit her lip and pushed away the memory. It was just coming back to Greens Hollow again that tugged the past into awareness—but as soon as she had everything with Granny and the sheriff settled, she could leave.

She only wished she could convince Granny Pearl to leave as well, to move in with her, where she could keep a close eye on her.

The bushes were over the next rise, a tangle of briars and sweet berries that could make her mouth water. Granny didn’t prune them, just let them grow helter-skelter, wild as nature allowed. Hallie could already taste Granny’s raspberry cobbler, her famous pancake syrup.

No one could match Granny’s recipes, maybe because the prime ingredient was love. Hallie felt it, had always felt it, no matter how irascible the old girl could be at times.

“I hope you don’t mind a few scratches on your hands,” she said, “but it’s the only way to pick.”

“Hey, don’t worry about me. I can endure a scratch or two.”

“Even if you don’t get to sample the bounty later?”

Cam grinned slowly. “Who says I won’t?”

“I doubt very much that Granny’ll invite you to supper—not after you carted her off to the clink yesterday.” She frowned up at him. “Which brings up a question, Cam Osborne. Just what makes you so certain that Granny is operating a still? Have you actually found one?”

Hallie was certain he hadn’t; this morning she’d had a thorough look around Granny’s property, every nook and cranny of it. She’d found nothing.

“I wouldn’t have brought the old gal in, if I hadn’t,” he answered.

Hallie gaped up at him for a long moment, then turned and plucked a berry. “I don’t believe you,” she said, absently dropping the berry into her container.

Had she somehow missed the site?

Hallie didn’t think so.

“Would you like me to show it to you?” He picked a few raspberries from the vine, then leaned close to drop them into her basket.

He smelled like the mountain air, all clean and a little... untamed. And he rattled her, not just his claim about a still, but his presence so close to her. She could see the fine lines that fanned out from his eyes, lines that said he’d lived with a few hurts in his life too—and for a moment Hallie wondered what they had been.

His eyes were dark, a deep brown that could fire with passion, but also bespoke an innate honesty. It was the honesty that had her worried, but the passion she was all too aware of, a passion she’d be a fool to fall susceptible to. And she wouldn’t.

She turned back to her task. “I may just take you up on that, Sheriff,” she said quietly, “but first I have raspberries to pick. Granny’s expecting them.”

“Fine by me.”

Cam knew the woman beside him didn’t believe him, and he wasn’t eager to prove her wrong, to shatter that unshakable belief she had in Granny Pearl. Obviously Granny had not seen fit to fill her granddaughter in about her little... sideline. It might have made things easier for Cam if she had. Still, either way, he had the feeling Hallie was not about to warm to him anytime soon.

That shouldn’t bother him, but for some reason—one he didn’t want to think about too closely—it did. He reached into the brambles to pick, leaving the more accessible berries for Hallie. Not that she would probably appreciate his chivalry.

She worked busily, gathering her bounty, the sun gently bronzing her arms left bare by her sleeveless white blouse. It was open at the neck three buttons, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin. Every now and then she swiped at a bead of perspiration that trickled down her neck.

The sun was hot—and growing hotter.

“So tell me about Fort Worth. What do you do there?” Cam was certain talk was better than fantasizing about whether she’d catch the latest bead of perspiration traveling toward that delectable hollow between her breasts.

She glanced up, her green eyes showing surprise that he’d ask a question about her personally. Well, damn, did she doubt he could be interested in one beautiful woman? He shouldn’t be, but he was curious about Hallie Cates.

She plucked another raspberry. “I’m a teacher, elementary school.”

“A teacher?” Cam gave a slow smile. “You don’t look like a schoolteacher to me.”

She raised her head again. “And just what in your estimation does a schoolteacher look like?” she asked.

“They wear their hair in tight little buns and have crow’s feet,” he answered. “At least they did when I was a kid.”

She let a smile slip at his remark, just a small one. “Give me a few years,” she returned. “Second-graders can age you rapidly.”

He liked her smile, wanted to see more of it, wondered what it would take to shake her dislike of him. Short of forgetting all about that still Pearl had been putting to considerable use. “Is that what grade you teach—second?”

She nodded.

He touched a red springy curl that whispered across the fair skin at her temple. “You, pretty lady, don’t have anything to worry about in the age department. And I’d wager all the little boys have a crush on you.” He knew he would if he were in that classroom.

A small laugh bubbled up from her throat. “A few,” she answered.

“I thought so. And how about big boys—any...men in your life, Hallie Cates?”

Why was he waiting for her answer? Why should he care if there was one—or twenty-one? But it seemed he was curious.

“That, Sheriff, is getting nosy—but since you asked, no. Teaching keeps me busy.”

“What a shame.”

“What...?”

That hadn’t been meant for Hallie’s ears. “I, uh, was just wondering how many berries we need,” he answered quickly.

She gave him a long, scrutinizing glance. “Right,” she said.

When she finally allowed that they’d picked enough to satisfy Granny’s recipe, Cam took the basket. “Let’s go take a look at Granny’s little enterprise,” he said. “It’s just at the end of that hollow.”

Hallie gaped. “That close to the cabin? I thought stills were always well hidden.”

“What can I say, the old girl obviously wasn’t worried about getting caught.”

By the sheriff, Hallie thought. She couldn’t imagine what it was the man planned to show her. She’d seen nothing that even vaguely resembled a still hidden anywhere on Granny’s property.

But Granny was just foxy enough to be up to something—and Cam seemed entirely too confident.


Chapter Three

It was cooler here in the hollow. The afternoon breeze whispered through, ruffling the ends of Hallie’s hair, the thick strands of Cam’s. The air was redolent with dogwood and a hint of pine. From above, the birds chattered away noisily.

“So just where is this so-called still you uncovered?” Hallie asked as Cam did his best imitation of a man searching around for a favorite pair of boots, and coming up empty.

Unless the still was small enough to hide under a rock it wasn’t anywhere around—and Hallie began to feel a whole lot better. She didn’t know whether Granny Pearl was innocent of Cam’s charges or up to her eyeballs in mischief, but she sincerely hoped the former was true and not the latter.

Cam let loose with a colorful curse even Granny could appreciate.

Hallie smiled. “Maybe this isn’t the right hollow. Maybe it’s somewhere else and your memory is a teensy bit off.” Her reply was meant more to antagonize than any real offer of explanation—and it hit the mark.

Cam’s eyes blazed. “Oh, no. This is the right spot all right. That sneaky old biddy has moved it, that’s what. She had no intention of shutting down operations. She’s just gone underground.”

“Underground?”

“A figure of speech. These things can be mighty portable in this part of the country. But I didn’t think Pearl had it in her to up and transport—” He stopped short and spun around to gaze dangerously at Hallie. “Unless maybe...”

“Maybe what?”

“You helped the old girl.”

“Me?” Hallie squeaked with indignation...and surprise.

“Oh, yeah—you, and Granny Pearl.” His eyes narrowed. “Last night. Or maybe this morning—before sunup.”

“I had nothing to do with hiding anything, Sheriff. And I’m not a hundred percent convinced there ever was a still. After all, I only have your say-so on that, now don’t I?”

Cam rubbed his jaw for a long moment. “Okay—so maybe I’m jumping the gun a bit here. After all, I don’t have proof you were involved...” The glint in his dark eyes suggested that if he found out she was, there was going to be hell to pay.

The sick feeling she’d had a short time before returned. She’d have to question Granny, have to get some sort of answer out of her. If Granny was, indeed, moonshining...

Just then Cam’s beeper went off. “Damn!” he said. “I gotta get back to the Jeep. But this isn’t finished, Hallie Cates.”

She followed him back through the hollow. His stride was long, eating up ground as he went. The breeze all but disappeared as they entered Granny’s enclosed yard, the air turning hot and still. Hallie swatted at a fly that buzzed around, and hurried to keep pace with Cam.

When he reached the Cherokee he leaned inside and used the radio. Hallie heard the static but not the words, heard Cam’s terse reply. “I’ll be right there,” he said to whoever was on the other end.

He had bigger fish to fry than Granny at the moment, it seemed. Perpetrators more frightening than little old ladies who might, or might not, be dabbling in moonshine. For a moment she was worried for Cam. Being sheriff around these parts had to carry a certain element of risk, of danger, she was sure.

However, she suspected Cam Osborne could take care of himself. His size more than proved that. Just his bark would scare the criminally bent into running for cover. It was only Granny who refused to be intimidated by the big tough man.

“I’ve got some trouble in town to deal with,” he said as he put the Jeep into gear, “but I’ll be black.”

“Is that a threat or a promise, Sheriff?” Her words were spoken with more bravado than she felt on the inside.

He didn’t answer, just turned his attention to backing out of Granny’s drive, then disappeared up the road, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

“You should learn to respect your elders, missy. Am I makin’ moonshine and sellin’ it to half the county like Cam Osborne says? How can you ask such a thing?”

“I am asking—and you are going to answer me,” Hallie said, intending to wring the truth from Granny Pearl if it was the last thing she did.

And preferably before the sheriff came back.

Granny rinsed the raspberries Hallie and Cam had picked. A plump young chicken stewed on the stove, while Hallie prepared a salad of greens from the garden.

“An answer, Granny,” she repeated when the old woman clamped her mouth into a thin stubborn line. “Did Cam find a still on this property?”

Granny raised her chin. “Says he did.”

“I know what he said. Is it true?”

“Maybe ‘tiz, maybe ’taint.” Granny stirred the rich berries into the cobbler, popped the pan into her relic of an oven and wiped her hands on her apron as if she were done with the conversation, as well as the cobbler.

The woman could be exasperating to say the least.

“You’re not going to answer me, are you?” Hallie said, finishing with the salad. She set the bowl on the small dining table, then turned and glowered at her kitchen companion.

“What was the question?”

What indeed. Granny could fake a sudden case of forgetfulness faster than anyone Hallie knew. “So that’s the way you’re going to play this. Okay...” She raised her hands in a show of defeat “If you won’t talk to me, you can just talk to the sheriff when he returns.”

Granny snorted. “That man’s comin’ back here? What fer?”

Maybe to haul Granny back to his iron-barred hotel, Hallie thought dismally. Butting heads with this cantankerous woman was not the way she’d intended to spend her vacation. Neither was dealing with one equally determined sheriff. “He’s coming back here to talk to you—and he won’t be half as patient in getting his answers,” she warned.

At the moment she wouldn’t blame the man if he brought along thumbscrews to use on the old girl.

Supper was eaten in testy silence, neither woman ready to give an inch in their cold war. Hallie wondered just how much patience Cam would have with Granny. She got the feeling he was a strictly by-the-book kind of sheriff. Do the crime and you do the time. That would be Cam. Even if the offender was a little old lady.

He’d come from Chicago, with its big-city problems. And somewhere in that big city he’d decided it was safer not to be too trusting—of anyone. Life had made him wary.

Perhaps because life had done the same for Hallie, she could recognize it.

But she didn’t want to doubt Granny Pearl. Her grandmother was the one she’d always believed in, the one who had always loved her, would always love her.

Hallie washed up the last of the supper dishes and tried not to think about the man who would be returning here tonight Cam Osbome made her nervous—and not just because of Granny Pearl. He made her nervous on some feminine level. He was just too good-looking, too...male for a woman’s own good.

She rubbed her temples. A headache had begun to throb. But she wasn’t sure she could blame that entirely on Cam. Granny Pearl had every bit as much to do with her present state of anxiety.

The disturbance in town proved to be minor. Two high school kids fighting over a girl. Cam had separated the boys, given them a strong talking-to, then called their respective parents to take them home.

The girl they were feuding over was a pretty one. Nearly as pretty as Hallie Cates, he thought, comparing. How could he blame the two for going head-to-head over a good-looking female? Hell, he’d probably do the same.

Over Hallie?

Yeah, over Hallie, he admitted with grim reluctance.

When had his hormones taken this turn? he wanted to know.

When he’d first laid eyes on the woman, that’s when.

Cam let out a solitary oath as his Jeep raced along the dusty back roads. He had no business thinking of Hallie in any regard except as Pearl’s granddaughter, Pearl’s granddaughter who would soon be returning to Fort Worth.

If there was one thing Cam had learned back in Chicago it was to keep a safe distance from the gentler sex. Gentler? He scoffed. Elise had been far from “gentler” as it turned out. His former wife had taken him for one helluva ride—and Cam had no intention of ever getting on that train again.

If he were wise he’d get this interrogation of Pearl over with—and fast—then get on back to town. Maybe he could find a poker game, drink a few beers, and hope that when he fell asleep he didn’t dream of one fiery-tempered redhead.

He saw Hallie and Granny Pearl sitting on the porch enjoying the cool evening air when he pulled into the drive. Granny Pearl lit out as soon as she spotted him, taking off through the yard, no doubt with the trumped-up notion of communing with those goats of hers.

The old girl was going to be contrary—but then, Cam hadn’t expected anything else.

He waved to Hallie and unlatched the gate.

“Hello, Cam,” she said as he neared the porch.

His libido bucked just hearing his name roll off that pretty tongue of hers. Her hair was tucked up and held in place with a tortoiseshell comb of sorts, but small, wispy tendrils escaped here and there and teased at the blush on her cheeks.

She’d changed into a pair of white shorts that made her legs look a good mile longer than they already were, and all too shapely for his peace of mind. The top she wore was a pretty shade of mint—and made her green eyes look big and wide in the evening twilight. If he’d ever wanted to touch a woman, it was this woman... at this moment.

He jammed his hands deep into his pockets where they wouldn’t be tempted to follow any wayward path. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, indicating the wicker porch chair Granny had vacated. “It looks as if I might have to wait the old girl out.”

“Be my guest, but it may be a long wait Granny, uh, doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Cam let a half smile curl at the edge of his mouth. “Yeah. well, she’s going to have to sometime.”

Hallie tucked one leg up under her and turned toward Cam. “I tried to get something out of her myself after you left, but I didn’t have much luck, I’m afraid. You’re not going to threaten her with jail again, are you?”

Cam gave her a long, considering glance. In addition to the defiant set of her chin there was an edge of worry to her demeanor. Hallie cared about Granny Pearl.

He tunneled his fingers through his hair and studied the deepening shadows in the yard, wishing Pearl would come clean—and give up this moonshine nonsense, save him a whole lot of headaches. “You got any better suggestions?”

Hallie didn’t, short of the thumbscrews she’d considered earlier. With the firm jut of Cam’s jaw she didn’t think she should suggest any such possibility. He looked just perturbed enough with Granny to go for it.

Tonight, as before, he was dressed casually, this time in jeans and a white, polo-style shirt that contrasted with his outdoorsy tan. No uniform. Probably saved them for hauling in the tough guys, real fugitives, she thought. With Granny it was the “folksy” approach—not that Hallie suspected it would gain him anything with the old girl. When Granny made up her mind not to talk, she wouldn’t talk.

“Well, if you’re determined to wait her out, how about a dish of cobbler? It could be a long night, Sheriff.”

“With raspberries?” His mood quickly brightened. Enormously. Suddenly he didn’t seem to mind how long the little standoff took.

“With raspberries,” she admitted.

Hallie just wished she didn’t feel so much like a traitor offering Granny’s lovely dessert to the other side. Granny herself had been about to indulge before Cam drove up. Now she was out there in her big yard somewhere, swallowed up by the darkness. But then—that was her choice. She could have stuck around and answered Cam’s questions like a sane, sensible woman. Instead she’d left Hallie to deal with the man.

How could Granny have gotten herself—and Hallie—into such a plight?

“I’ll go get that cobbler. Don’t go anywhere,” she quipped, as if Cam had the slightest intention of moving off the porch anytime tonight.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” he answered with a low chuckle.

Hallie swallowed a groan. Didn’t he have anyone from the Most Wanted list to apprehend? She disappeared inside, letting the door bang behind her.

Cam watched her go—enjoying that enticing little wiggle to her hips—before settling back in the porch chair to relax. This job was beginning to offer a few rewards. He could sit back, look up at the emerging stars and let his suspect come to him. He even had one pretty woman to keep him company while he waited.

There was a problem or two, however, with his scenario.

Granny wouldn’t voluntarily come out of hiding—and he didn’t relish bucking George and Myrtle to go and get her. Also, he found Hallie far too tempting for his own good.

Everything about the woman told him he’d better hold onto his good sense. He didn’t need to go off the deep end over some female, not when he was finally beginning to find himself again, to sort through his anger—and his mistrust—and get on with life, such as it was.





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