Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Wyatt′s Most Wanted Wife

Wyatt's Most Wanted Wife
Sandra Steffen
Bachelor GulchThe Bachelor: Wyatt McCully, dedicated–and extremely eligible–town sheriff. Though husband-hungry women were flocking to Jasper Gulch, there was only one single gal Wyatt wanted.The Bride: Lisa Markman, a woman with a yearning for marriage, and with a secret. She couldn't dare consider lawman Wyatt as a potential groom.The sexy sheriff could tell when a woman was interested, and Lisa had all the signs of succumbing to his charming ways. So why did she refuse to take his heartfelt proposals seriously? Wyatt decided he had to uncover everything about the mysterious woman he intended to claim as his wife, and set out to make the pursuit his pleasure…and hers!Bachelor Gulch. This little town wanted women–but are these bachelors ready for marriage?



Table of Contents
Cover Page (#ub698d450-7166-5fae-a87a-ca1288edce58)
Excerpt (#u6961ae15-2f51-52f7-8eca-f9828d5c6ed0)
Dear Reader (#uaceb7ee8-b392-523b-a7f6-c80a720efe57)
Title Page (#ue36d06f0-77f7-5876-8af9-3f3f2c0d33e2)
Dedication (#ubb561fe3-4f6e-59a0-8b60-b85fc22af88a)
About the Author (#u2c0b0351-94db-56fb-91d5-4084a5aab947)
Chapter One (#u1d9197fe-6472-576c-b366-b3f90e83c2ff)
Chapter Two (#u79cceda5-55a6-551b-97c9-4cd858f1a289)
Chapter Three (#uf64754ea-05a3-54ce-ba7a-65fd3151758b)
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)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Lisa tilted her head at a sassy angle and said, “I know it’s hard to imagine, but I haven’t always been this shy and sweet.”
Wyatt grinned wickedly. “You’re right. I do find that hard to believe.”

He glanced down to where her coat had fallen open, giving him his first up-close glimpse of her legs. His reaction was eager and as predictable as nightfall. By the time he managed to drag his gaze back to her face, she was staring at him knowingly.

She covered her legs and cast him a look that spoke volumes. When she finally did say something, it was in a soft, conciliatory tone of voice he didn’t like one bit. “I hope you don’t take offense, Sheriff, but I’m afraid you’re just not my type.”
Dear Reader (#ulink_53cb8ad0-09e2-57a1-84e5-c05faaa20ff0),
Welcome to another wonderful month at Silhouette Romance. In the midst of these hot summer days, why not treat yourself (come on, you know you deserve it) by relaxing in the shade with these romantically satisfying love stories.

What’s a millionaire bachelor posing as a working-class guy to do after he agrees to baby-sit his cranky infant niece? Run straight into the arms of a very beautiful pediatrician who desperately wants a family of her own, of course! Don’t miss this delightful addition to our BUNDLES OF JOY series with Baby Business by Laura Anthony.
The ever-enchanting award-winning author Sandra Steffen is back with the second installment of her enthralling BACHELOR GULCH miniseries. This time it’s the local sheriff who’s got to lasso his lady love in Wyatt’s Most Wanted Wife.
And there are plenty of more great romances to be found this month. Moyra Tarling brings you an emotionally compelling marriage-of-convenience story with Marry In Haste. A gal from the wrong side of the tracks is reunited with the sexy fire fighter she’d once won at a bachelor auction (imagine the interesting stories they’ll have to tell) in Cara Colter’s Husband In Red RITA Award-winning author Elizabeth Sites is back with a terrific Western love story centering around a legendary wedding gown in The Rainbow Bride. And when best friends marry for the sake of a child, they find out that real love can follow, in Marriage Is Just the Beginning by Betty Jane Sanders.
So curl up with an always-compelling Silhouette Romance novel and a refreshing glass of lemonade, and enjoy the summer!

Melissa Senate
Senior Editor
Silhouette Romance
Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Wyatt’s Most Wanted Wife
Sandra Steffen


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my friend Betty Dikeman, who inspires me, encourages me, teaches me, accepts me, ponders life with me, humbles me and laughs with me.

SANDRA STEFFEN
Creating memorable characters is one of Sandra’s favorite aspects of writing. She’s always been a romantic, and is thrilled to be able to spend her days doing what she loves—bringing her characters to life on her computer screen.
Sandra grew up in Michigan, the fourth of ten children, all of whom have taken the old adage “Go forth and multiply” quite literally. Add to this her husband, who is her real-life hero, their four school-age sons who keep their lives in constant motion, their gigantic cat, Percy, and her wonderful friends, in-laws and neighbors, and what do you get? Chaos, of course, but also a wonderful sense of belonging she wouldn’t trade for the world.

Chapter One (#ulink_62f0af6c-b387-556d-8061-f27088db8723)
Sheriff Wyatt McCully pulled the brim of his white Stetson lower on his forehead and peered into the far corners of the crowded old diner. He wasn’t sure how the ordinary Tuesday town meeting had turned into a party. One minute he’d been sitting in the back room with the other members of the town council, groaning along with everyone else as Isabell Pruitt, the leader of the Ladies Aid Society self-righteously rose to her feet. For months the old prude had been spouting that ill would come of the ad the local boys had placed in the papers to lure women to their corner of South Dakota, and tonight had been no exception. Just when Wyatt thought Isabell would never run out of wind, someone had called to adjourn and a party had broken out.
Normally he enjoyed the small-town crowd. But tonight he would have preferred a more private setting.
Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his legs out underneath the small table and crossed his arms. Voices rose, and laughter echoed from one end of the diner to the other. The bachelors of Jasper Gulch were noisier and bawdier than usual. He figured they had good reason to be cheerful. Yesterday’s rain had put an end to the worst drought in twenty-two years. Luke Carson’s engagement had ended a similar dry spell among the Jasper Gents. Wyatt was happy enough about both of those things, but they didn’t account for the sense of urgency driving him to distraction tonight.
Laughter, deep and rich and feminine, drew his gaze. The crowd parted, awarding him a clear view of the woman who was responsible for the rousing pull at his insides. It obliterated every coherent thought in his head, but it came as no surprise. It had been pulsing like a blip of radar ever since Lisa Markman had set foot in town a month ago.
The woman had a flirty walk, an infectious grin and a wink that could stop a hundred-and-seventy-five-pound man in his tracks. Wyatt was normally the most patient man in the county, but his patience was wearing thin. He was getting mighty tired of sitting back while every bachelor in Jasper Gulch vied for her affections. Push had come to shove. It was time for Wyatt McCully to make his move.
He stood and surveyed the room. Steadily making his way around the small groups of people blocking his path, he gave a brief nod now and then. But most of his attention was trained on the woman he intended to meet.
Lisa’s back was to him, and although he had to admit he preferred a woman who was walking toward him, he couldn’t find fault with the way she looked from behind. There wasn’t another woman in town with hair as dark as hers. There wasn’t another woman in town who could make a simple pair of jeans and a red Western shirt look like something straight out of a man’s fantasies, either. It was probably just as well that the noise drowned out the rasp of his deeply drawn breath, but he doubted there was anything that could have chased away the anticipation lengthening his stride.
“Look, Opal, it’s Wyatt McCully.”
“Why, yes, Isabell, yes, it is.”
Wyatt jerked to a stop, barely managing to keep from running headlong into the two gray-haired women who’d planted themselves directly in his path. With a grudging tip of his head, he said, “Evening, ladies.”
“Why, isn’t he just the most polite young man, Opal?”
“Yes, Isabell, I do believe he is. I was just saying as much to my Louetta a few minutes ago.”
Wyatt shifted to the right and his attention strayed, his eyes automatically picking Lisa out of the crowd. Not that it was difficult With the blip of radar steadily working its way lower in his body, he could have found her in the dark.
“Have you had a chance to talk to Louetta lately, Wyatt? She’s sitting at that table right over there.”
He cast a perfunctory glance at Opal Graham’s daughter who waved shyly then proceeded to blush three shades of red. He hadn’t actually spoken to Louetta lately. Back in high school, the boys had voted her The Girl Most Likely Not To.
“She’s a lovely girl, don’t you think?” Isabell asked.
Louetta? Lovely? The girl was thirty-three years old. If she had any curves, they were hidden underneath high necklines and baggy clothes. Wyatt had no idea why Isabell was singing her praises to him, but when Lisa’s throaty laughter carried to his ears again, he didn’t stay long enough to find out. Ignoring Isabell’s affronted huff, he plowed his way to the front of the room.
He was only six steps away when he noticed the coffee carafe in Lisa’s right hand, only two steps away when she finished filling his grandfather’s cup and gave him a gentle nudge. “Cletus McCully, you must have been a real lady-killer in your day.”
“Who says my day is over?”
“Why, Cletus, are you flirting with me?”
“I see I ain’t losin’ my touch.”
Laughing, Lisa eased away from the table. Wyatt might not have appreciated his grandfather’s flirting, but he’d have to be out of his mind not to enjoy the gentle brush of Lisa’s hip against his thigh. His hands automatically went to her waist, and for one brief moment her gaze swung to his. Her laughter drained away, leaving behind the most amazing half smile.
Lisa Markman swallowed. Hard. She’d been in South Dakota a month, but this was the first time she’d gotten an up-close-and-personal look at Wyatt McCully’s lean face. The fact that she’d been keeping her distance hadn’t exactly been a coincidence. She’d noticed him watching her now and then, and she knew what his look did to her. She wasn’t a snob, but she wasn’t stupid, either. She’d come to this town that had advertised for women, because it seemed like the perfect place to start over, to find a man to love, someone like her—a little outspoken, a little beaten up by life. The local sheriff with his sterling badge and reputation to match simply wasn’t the man for her. It was too bad, too. She’d come across a lot of men in her day, but she hadn’t met many as appealing to her as the tall, lean, fair-haired Wyatt McCully.
A primitive warning sounded in her ears, bringing her to her senses. She couldn’t have been more relieved when Bonnie Trumble, who owned the Clip & Curl down the street, signaled for more coffee at a table a few feet away. Lisa filled the empty cup and topped off another.
“You’re very good at that.”
She turned slowly. Facing Wyatt, she told herself he was referring to her coffee-pouring abilities. He hadn’t said or done anything to make her think he’d meant something else by his simple words of praise. In all fairness it wasn’t his fault her imagination had given his statement another meaning. It was his voice. No man should be allowed to own such a voice, let alone use it as if it was meant for her ears alone.
Trying to put an end to the awareness arcing between them, she motioned to the crowd. “Although I’m only helping your sister tonight, I’ve done more waitressing than I care to think about. Believe me, I have the fallen arches to prove it.”
If she could have called back her words, she would have. Maybe then his gaze wouldn’t have taken the slow route to her feet, resting on forbidden places along the way. Maybe then she wouldn’t have been so aware of the swooping pull on her insides. But she was aware, and when the light touched upon Wyatt’s white cowboy hat, she knew she had to put an end to it, here and now.
She stepped to one side and made a show of glancing around. “I’d better get busy. That sister of yours cracks a mean whip.”
His forward motion was sure and easy, and so was his smile. Both sent her thoughts into a tailspin.
“You must know that Mel’s bark is worse than her bite. This party’s going to break up any minute. I just heard some of the boys talking about moving it over to the Crazy Horse. What do you say we duck out the back door and drive into Pierre for dinner?”
“Dinner?”
He smiled again, and danged if her gaze didn’t get stuck on his mouth. There was a long pause during which she fought for self-control. Her mind cleared gradually, and her determination returned. If there was one thing her life had given her, it was plenty of practice handling touchy situations. Giving him a wink she’d perfected years ago, she said, “Thanks, Sheriff, but I don’t think that would be a very good idea. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it looks as if Melody and Jillian want to talk to me about something.”
Without another word, she ducked into the crowd, making a beeline for the front of the room. Wyatt clamped his mouth shut and watched her go.
He hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone until Cletus’s crotchety voice cut into his thoughts. “So, things didn’t quite come off without a hitch, eh, boy?”
With Lisa’s reply sitting on his ego like a box of rocks, Wyatt shot his grandfather a penetrating look. “Whatever gives you that idea?”
Cletus hooked his thumbs through his suspenders and slowly shook his head. “It could have something to do with the fact that you look like a stallion with a sore—”
Wyatt heard Isabell’s and Opal’s dramatic gasps, so he wasn’t surprised when Cletus said, “Hoof,” instead of what he’d probably intended to say. “Well?” his grandfather asked, turning his back on the two eavesdroppers and lowering his voice. “Did you ask her?”
“I asked her.”
“And?”
“She turned me down.”
Cletus snapped his suspenders and shook his head. “Jumpin’ catfish, she ain’t makin’ it easy on ya, that’s for sure.”
Wyatt didn’t reply. Cletus had raised him, and if there was one thing he was used to, it was his grandfather’s huge understatements. Besides, Cletus was right. Lisa wasn’t making it easy on him. In fact, she was making it next to impossible.
A spoon jangled on a glass, drawing everyone’s attention to the front of the room where Lisa and her best friend were standing. “Can I have your attention, please?” Lisa called.
At least twenty people said, “Shh.” Twenty more yelled, “Quiet,” but it took a two-fingered whistle from Wyatt’s sister, Mel, to silence everyone enough for Lisa to be heard.
“Before Luke whisks Jillian out of here tonight—to make wedding plans, of course—I’d like to propose a toast.”
The room echoed with resounding chuckles from the local bachelors. Everybody knew Luke Carson, and nobody believed for a minute that he had wedding plans on his mind tonight. Luke was Wyatt’s best friend. Judging from the glowing expression on Jillian’s face, he was also a lucky man. Wyatt had a sudden, burning desire to arrest somebody. If there wasn’t a law against that kind of happiness, there ought to be.
Raising her pot of coffee, Lisa said, “To Luke and Jillian, the first couple to become engaged in Jasper Gulch in more than five years.”
One of the local boys shouted, “The first but not the last.”
“I’m plannin’ on being next,” someone else called.
“Right after me.”
“In your dreams.”
“If I’m dreaming these days, it ain’t about you.”
When the ensuing argument died down, Jillian Daniels pushed her wavy red hair behind her shoulders and raised her own glass. “I’d like to propose a toast, too. To Lisa Markman, the best sport in the world. After all, it was her idea to move to a town that advertised for women, her idea to actively search for Mr. Right. She’s systematically dated every man who’s asked her, yet, like the true friend she is, she’s genuinely happy for Luke and me.”
Hearty chuckles and guffaws nearly raised the roof. Wyatt glanced at Lisa, and he couldn’t join in. His heart beat a steady rhythm that had nothing to do with laughter. Just when he was convinced she wasn’t going to look his way, her gaze met his. She went perfectly still, and so did he. Awareness flickered in her eyes, sending a flush to Wyatt’s face and chest that had nothing to do with the August temperatures. Something incredible made its way through him. Before he could put a name to it, Luke’s brother, Clayt, said something to Jillian and Lisa, and the moment broke.
Tipping his hat back with one finger, Clayt raised his voice so that it could be heard from one end of the diner to the other. “I just want to remind everybody to keep the first Saturday in September open. The town council is hosting a barbecue in Luke and Jillian’s honor, and everyone’s invited.”
Jillian beamed, and Lisa didn’t look at Wyatt again. He knew, because he watched her for a long time. Wondering if he could have been mistaken about what he thought had passed between them, he finally turned away. Nursing a sore ego, he headed for his quiet corner in the back of the room.

“Lisa, are you okay?”
Lisa peered through wispy bangs that were on the verge of being too long, and found Jillian Daniels watching her closely from the other side of the breakfast table. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
Seemingly lost in thought, Jillian rose to her feet and carried her cereal bowl to the sink. “I don’t know,” she said after she turned the water off and placed the bowl upside down in the drainer. “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’ve sighed three times in the past five minutes.”
“I have not.”
“Yes, you have.”
“Jillian, I couldn’t possibly have sighed three times in the past five minutes.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
Lisa started to smile, thinking this was more like it.
“Maybe it was four times.”
Shaking her head, Lisa carried her own cereal bowl to the sink. When she glanced at her friend again, Jillian was leaning against the counter, in the house they’d shared since moving from Wisconsin earlier in the summer. Jillian’s arms were crossed, her gaze unwavering. It was a stance Lisa knew well. Jillian Daniels had long red hair, soft blue eyes and a stubborn streak a mile wide. Although she rarely admitted it out loud, it was one of the things Lisa had always been the most thankful for. Without it, Jillian never would have been able to talk her into going to live with Ivy Pennington all those years ago, and Lisa might never have stopped running.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Jillian asked in a quiet voice.
Tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, Lisa shifted her weight to one hip and said, “Does Luke know how persistent you can be?”
“Believe me, he knows. Luke is so incredible. Love is so incredible. No wonder you wanted to move out here and experience this.”
“Yes, well, you’re just lucky you’re my best friend. Otherwise, I’d be mad at you for nabbing the most eligible bachelor in Jasper Gulch.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Pu-lease.”
“Then my engagement to Luke doesn’t have anything to do with those sighs of yours and the fact that you were so quiet last night and again this morning?”
The reason for Lisa’s quietude and her sighs shimmered across her mind. She didn’t want to think about Wyatt McCully, but she couldn’t seem to get the expression deep in his eyes and the clear-cut lines in his face out of her head.
She glanced at her friend and found Jillian watching her closely. She’d been on the receiving end of Jillian’s treasured smiles a thousand times, which was just about how many whispered secrets they’d shared over the years. Their friendship went back a long time, through petty misunder-standings, life-altering heartaches and far-reaching dreams. Lisa knew she could tell Jillian anything. She even knew that Jillian would probably say that whatever had taken place between her and Wyatt last night had been fate. Lisa might have believed in fate, but she certainly didn’t rely on it. Determination was ten times more powerful, and Lisa was determined to put Wyatt McCully out of her mind, once and for all. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Of the sixty-two bachelors in Jasper Gulch, there were still forty-nine she hadn’t dated. As far as she could tell, only one of them wore a white cowboy hat and had a reputation just as pure. That left forty-eight men to choose from and only one to steer clear of.
“Well?”
Her friend’s voice drew Lisa from her thoughts. Jillian looked as if she was waiting for an answer, which would have been okay if Lisa could have remembered the question. Ducking her head slightly, she said, “What were we talking about again?”
Jillian spun around. “I knew it. You are upset about my engagement to Luke.”
Lisa rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Tell me you don’t really believe I have a thing for your fiancé.”
“You did go out with him.”
“Only because you insisted. I already told you we talked about you all evening,” Lisa said, remembering the date she’d gone on with Luke Carson a few weeks ago. The man had been attractive and funny and so deeply in love with Jillian they really hadn’t talked about much else.
“Then you really don’t have strong feelings for Luke?” Jillian asked slowly.
“Of course not. Now would you please go start the car so we can both get to work?”
Jillian looked at her for several seconds. Seemingly satisfied that Lisa was telling the truth, she reached for her purse and hurried into the living room.
“Jillian?”
The other woman stopped at the front door and turned around, “What?” written all over her face.
“Would you give Luke up if I asked you to?”
Jillian had the grace to pretend to think about it before letting loose a smile bright enough to light up the room. “Not on your life, sister.”
Lisa laughed and Jillian grinned then slipped through the screen door. Feeling better than she had all morning, Lisa checked the stove, grabbed her purse and raincoat, and followed. She was in the process of pulling the front door shut behind her when Jillian’s voice rang out from several feet away.
“Where did you park the car last night?”
Lisa walked forward, down the steps and across the sidewalk. She didn’t stop until she reached the exact spot in the driveway where she’d left her car the previous night. Except for a few shallow puddles, the driveway was empty. “I parked it right here where I always do.”
“That’s what I thought. It’s gone. Somebody must have taken it.”
Lisa turned in a circle. “I’ll be danged.”
“What are you doing to do?” Jillian asked.
Gauging the clouds hanging low in the sky, Lisa said, “I’m not sure, but if my new clothing store is going to be a success, I need my car to pick up the new fall merchandise in Pierre this afternoon. For now, it looks like we’re walking to work.”
Spinning around, she went inside for an umbrella.

“Oooo-eee. It’s really coming down out there.”
Wyatt glanced up in time to see Luke Carson close the door behind him and shake the water from his black Stetson. With a jauntiness one rarely associated with a Carson, he called, “Hey, Wyatt, do you have any more of that coffee?”
Wyatt scribbled something on a notepad, then shoved the traffic ticket he’d issued last night into a folder, wondering when his office had turned into one of those coffeehouses they had in the city. Oblivious to his friend’s dark mood, Luke whisked a chair away from the wall and straddled it. Crossing his arms along the top, he grinned inanely at nobody in particular.
Wyatt glanced at the other Carson brother, who was slouched in stony silence in the chair next to the desk. Meeting Wyatt’s gaze, Clayt shook his head and spoke for the first time in fifteen minutes. “He’s been like this ever since Jillian agreed to marry him two days ago.”
“Been like what?” Luke asked with entirely too much wonder in his voice.
Clayt didn’t have to speak. The sardonic lift of his eye-brows and the tilt of his head said it all.
Wyatt pushed his chair away from his desk and strode to the filing cabinet, where he sloshed coffee into three cups, wondering what it would take to get a little privacy around here. People claimed misery loved company, but he would have preferred to sulk alone. That was next to impossible in Jasper Gulch. He should know. He’d tried it last night. He really had had every intention of nursing his sore ego in his own quiet corner in the diner. But when he’d gotten back to his table, his corner hadn’t been quiet anymore. He’d taken one look at the area ranchers and cowboys he’d grown up with and had hightailed it over to the Crazy Horse Saloon. Glancing at the two men taking up space in his small office right now, he realized he wasn’t having much better luck this morning.
“Ah,” Luke said, after taking his first sip of coffee. “Thick as tar. Just the way I like it.”
Clayt slunk lower in his chair and shook his head all over again. Wyatt almost grinned for the first time since yesterday.
Luke and Clayt Carson were a year apart in age and shared a passing family resemblance that included dark hair, gray eyes and tanned skin pulled taut over high cheekbones and angular chins. Their tall, lanky builds had come from the same gene pool, but the good mood Luke was in today didn’t run in the family.
Wyatt knew both of these men like the backs of his hands. He’d been there when Clayt had gotten married ten years ago. He’d been there when his wife had left him two years later, too. Wyatt was the first person Luke had told about his decision to become a vet instead of a partner on the family ranch. Technically, only Luke and Clayt were blood related, but Wyatt had been in and out of the Carson house so often while he was growing up he might as well have been a third brother, blond hair, brown eyes and all.
“So,” Luke said cheerfully. “What’s new?”
Clayt slanted Wyatt a meaningful look. “I liked him a lot better when he was ornery, didn’t you?”
Luke laughed. “Come on, you two. I’m going to marry the most beautiful woman in Jasper Gulch. You should be happy for me. Who knows, maybe one of you will get lucky one of these days.”
The outer door opened noisily. Before Wyatt and Clayt had the opportunity to offer to wipe the grin off Luke’s face, Cletus McCully closed the door and ambled closer.
Staring at the water running off his grandfather’s hat and the footprints on the floor, Wyatt said, “Granddad, you’re dripping wet. Where have you been?”
Cletus hung his hat on a peg near the door and straightened as much as his stoop-shouldered frame would allow. “What do you mean where have I been? Just because I’m seventy-nine years old don’t mean I ain’t got things to do. Mmm. Is that coffee I smell?”
Wyatt tried to count to ten. At seven, he shoved his chair back, strode to the filing cabinet and drained the last of the thick brew from the pot. As usual, his show of temper was lost on his grandfather.
Cletus slurped his coffee then slapped Luke on the back. “I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you proper yet. I talked to your future bride last night. Said she and Lisa and Mel are goin’ into Pierre to look at weddin’ dresses this weekend. That’s good. Real good. Means plans are movin’ along. So, Luke, who’re you gonna ask to be your best man?”
Luke glanced up. “Gee, Cletus, I don’t rightly know. Clayt or Wyatt, I guess.”
Wyatt’s mouth dropped open. Had he just heard Luke say he didn’t rightly know? For crying out loud, it was enough to turn a grown man’s stomach. Gritting his teeth and crossing his arms, he looked at Clayt and said, “He’s your brother.”
Clayt shook his head. “He’s your best friend.”
With a snap of one suspender, old Cletus said, “Looks like there’s only one way to settle this. Okay with you, Luke, if the boys flip for it fair and square?”
Wyatt didn’t care who ended up acting as Luke’s best man. He was too busy trying to figure out why a woman who claimed she would go out with every man who asked had told him that going to dinner wouldn’t be a good idea. He wasn’t so arrogant as to expect every woman to fall at his feet. He could take no for an answer. But Lisa hadn’t told him no. What the hell did she mean going out with him wouldn’t be a good idea? Wyatt happened to believe it was the best idea he’d had in years.
Cletus was still talking when Wyatt came out of his musings. “As best man, you’ll be expected to hook up with the maid of honor. And Jillian asked Lisa Markman to be her maid of honor, ain’t that right, Luke?”
Lisa?
Wyatt jerked to attention. “Heads!” he called.
“Tails!” Clayt said at the same time.
Cletus mumbled something about having to do everything himself then flipped the quarter into the air. He caught it easily enough then slapped it against his forearm. Raising his hand slightly, a grin stole across his wrinkled face. “Wyatt, it looks like you’re guaranteed at least one weddin’ dance with Jillian’s dark-haired maid of honor, and maybe a little time alone with her at the barbecue you boys are havin’ the first Saturday in September. Oooo-eee, that woman’s built for comfort, ain’t she?”
Wyatt’s mind eased into overdrive. Turning Lisa Markman into his arms for a slow wedding dance was one of the most appealing thoughts he’d had all day. Kissing her for the first time was another, and so was wrapping his arms around her and kissing her again.
“I want to see the coin,” Clayt told the older man.
“What do you mean you wanna see the coin?”
“What do you mean what do I mean?”
Wyatt glanced from Cletus to Clayt and back again. His grandfather’s brown eyes were spitting daggers at Clayt, but his right hand remained firmly over the coin.
Clayt wasn’t budging, either. “It just so happens that I’d trust you with my life, but everyone knows you’re not above bending the rules to suit your purposes, and Wyatt is your grandson.”
“You callin’ me a cheater?”
“I’m not calling you anything. Just show us the coin. If Wyatt won fair and square, fine. If not, he can ask Lisa to dance the normal way. She’s made it clear she’ll give everyone a fair chance. She even went out with Grover Andrews, for cripe’s sakes.”
Cletus’s chin came up a notch, and Wyatt found himself saying a silent prayer that he’d get lucky and a bolt of lightning would strike nearby, or maybe his sainted mother would swoop down from heaven and put her hand over Cletus’s mouth.
“That ain’t quite true, boy.”
Wyatt practically groaned out loud. So much for luck.
“Are you saying Lisa didn’t go out with Grover Andrews?” Clayt asked.
“Oh, she went out with Grover, all right. But she ain’t gone out with every man who’s asked her.”
“Who’d she turn down?” Luke asked.
“Yeah, who?” Clayt echoed.
“Didn’t Wyatt tell you?”
Clayt and Luke turned like the guards at Buckingham Palace.
“You asked her out?” Luke asked.
“She said no?” Clayt sputtered.
Wyatt heaved a huge sigh. “She didn’t say no. Exactly.”
“What did she say?” Luke asked.
“She said she didn’t think having dinner with me would be a good idea.”
“That’s odd,” Luke said.
“Yeah,” Clayt agreed. “Why would a woman who’s made it clear that she’s looking for the right man say that?”
“Maybe she doesn’t think I’m the right man for her.”
“How could she possibly know that without going out with you?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself all morning.”
“I’m tellin’ you, boy, you have to stop bein’ so nice and take the bull by the horns. Sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
Three pairs of eyes turned to Cletus, three gazes fell to the gnarled hand clutching his arm, and three voices rose at the same time. “That does it.”
“Show us that coin.”
“Now.”
Wyatt had never heard his grandfather utter a more indignant oath, but after looking each younger man straight in the eyes, he finally raised his hand. Wyatt, Clayt and Luke all stared at the shiny quarter resting on Cletus’s forearm, but Wyatt was the only one who released a low whistle. “There’s no doubt about it, boys. It’s heads. I won the toss, fair and square.”
Thunder rumbled as Cletus dropped the coin into his pocket. Turning on the heels of his worn cowboy boots, he strode to the door with all the dignity and speed his skinny, bowed legs could muster.
“Come on, Cletus,” Clayt called. “Don’t go away mad.”
At the door, Cletus mumbled something Wyatt couldn’t make out, but he recognized the low, sultry voice that answered. His grandfather stepped to one side and the last woman Wyatt expected to set foot in his office walked through the door.
Anything he might have said froze in his brain. All he could do was stare as Lisa Markman strolled toward him. Looking neither right nor left, she didn’t stop until she reached the edge of the railing that divided the office. Wyatt was vaguely aware that Cletus had closed the door behind him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the woman wearing the shiny, red raincoat and the churlish expression.
“Sheriff.”
“Lisa.”
With a haughty lift of her chin, she said, “It’s a good thing I don’t believe in suing people, or I’d have to file a suit against the town of Jasper Gulch for false advertising.”
Wyatt rose to his feet slowly. “Why is that?”
“Your ad said this was a quiet, peaceful town where the biggest crimes are jaywalking and gossip and the ugly color of orange Bonnie Trumble painted the front of her beauty shop.”
“And that isn’t true?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid I have to report a theft.”
“What’s been taken?” Wyatt asked, his voice getting deeper with every word.
Lisa lowered her dripping umbrella then met his wide-eyed stare. “It seems that one of the fine citizens of Jasper Gulch stole my car.”

Chapter Two (#ulink_510998af-4b7e-538d-b4a0-29d513b0be4a)
“Somebody stole your car?” Wyatt asked.
“Thank God.”
Wyatt, Luke and Lisa all swung around and looked at Clayt.
“Are you happy about this?” Lisa asked.
Clayt Carson had the grace to look sheepish. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, ma’am. I’m just relieved because my little girl couldn’t have been responsible for stealing a car.”
Swiping his faded brown cowboy hat off his head, he glanced at Wyatt and said, “You don’t think Haley took it, do you?”
Wyatt settled his hands to his hips and gave Clayt’s question careful consideration. The man had every reason to be worried. During the past two months since she’d come to live with her father, nine-year-old Haley Carson had been a handful. She had been caught stealing food off Lisa and Jillian’s front porch last month, but Wyatt didn’t think a little kid was responsible for stealing a car. Even if the child in question was Haley Carson. Shifting his gaze to Lisa, he asked, “Did you leave your keys in the ignition?”
She shook her head. “I know most people out here do, but I haven’t gotten out of the habit of stashing my keys in my purse every time I get out of my car.”
“There you have it,” Wyatt told Clayt. “Unless Haley knows how to hot-wire an automobile, she’s off the hook.”
Clayt crammed his hat back on his head and visibly relaxed. Wyatt slanted his two best friends an arched look. They both looked at Lisa, then at him and then at each other. With half smiles the Carsons were famous for, they tugged at the brims of their hats and muttered something about other places they had to be.
It was all Lisa could do not to shake her head and roll her eyes at the way those two men swaggered out of the office. They couldn’t possibly think she’d actually bought their little show of innocence, could they? Oh, she didn’t doubt that they had someplace they had to go. After all, there probably were cattle for Luke to inoculate, and Clayt probably did have to get home to his daughter. But those boys were ranchers, not actors, and they left because Wyatt had given them the signal to go.
In the wake of creaking floorboards and the resounding clatter of the door, the room seemed inordinately silent. That silence wrapped around Lisa, as thick as the air before a thunderstorm and just as invigorating.
She wasn’t sure why she chose that particular moment to glance up at Wyatt, but once she had, she couldn’t look away. This was one of the few times she’d seen him without his white Stetson. His hair was a dark shade of blond. She wasn’t surprised it wasn’t shaggy around the edges. Oh, no, Wyatt McCully was probably one of those men who got his hair cut the first week of every month just like clockwork. She’d seen his eyes before, so their golden shade of brown came as no surprise, either. Today, she was more concerned about the interest smoldering in their depths.
His skin was as tanned as every other cowboy’s she’d met out here. Except Wyatt wasn’t a cowboy who wore chaps and spurs. He was the local sheriff. Lisa didn’t really care what a man did for a living, and she certainly couldn’t fault him for the way he looked in his uniform. It wasn’t his beige shirt that put her off. It wasn’t even his badge. It was his reputation. According to the grapevine in Jasper Gulch, Wyatt McCully didn’t swear, he didn’t drink much and didn’t chew tobacco. Word had it he’d never gotten in trouble in his entire life.
Lisa Markman had been in plenty. She wasn’t ashamed of where she’d been or who she’d become. But she knew what she wanted, what she needed. And she wasn’t going to find it in this office.
“Did you know it’s bad luck to open an umbrella indoors?”
She glanced from her open umbrella straight into his eyes. “Yes, well, Danger is my middle name.”
“Is that a fact?”
Lisa imagined that a lot of female heads had been turned by that deep, rich voice. It was time to let him know he couldn’t turn hers. She pressed a button on her umbrella. By the time she’d smoothed the folds into place, she knew how to put an end to the interest in Wyatt’s eyes.
“Look, sheriff, if I could have handled this myself, I wouldn’t have set foot in this place, but I really need to get my car back. I have a shipment of Western clothes to pick up in Pierre this morning. So, do you think we could get this over with?”
The stiffening of his shoulders was almost imperceptible, and so was the flicker of disappointment way in the back of his eyes. Lisa felt a moment’s remorse because she knew she was responsible for both. But she had to hand it to him; there was no resentment or condescension in his attitude.
She would have preferred it if he hadn’t called attention to his strength and agility by spinning a high-backed chair around with one hand and effortlessly placing it next to his desk, but she couldn’t fault the polite tilt of his head as he motioned for her to take a seat, or the way he moved to the other side of his desk and sat down.
He reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out a form. With pencil in hand, he said, “Let’s start with your full name. First, last and middle initial.”
She handled the first and last names well enough, but before she could tell him her middle initial, her gaze got stuck on his hands, and her mind floundered. He didn’t have the hands of a man who pushed a pencil for a living. His hands were large and callused, his fingers blunt tipped, his knuckles scraped.
“Is your middle initial really D?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“For Danger?“
“It’s D,” she said automatically, “for Destiny.”
Realizing what she’d said, she glanced up and found him watching her. Trying for an even, composed voice, she said, “Really. My name is Lisa Destiny Markman. My parents didn’t like me very much.”
“Why don’t you start at the beginning.”
“The beginning?” she asked.
“When were you born?”
“You want me to start at the beginning of my life?”
“I need your date of birth. For the form.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the sheet of paper in front of him and rattled off the information he’d requested. Being careful not to make any noise releasing the breath she’d been holding, she stared at his down-turned eyes and told herself she was completely unaffected by this man’s quiet presence.
Wyatt jotted down information, checking the proper boxes, filling in the usual blanks. His heart beat a steady rhythm that had nothing to do with procedure. If he’d been with anyone else, he might have laughed to ease the tension in the room, but he glanced up from the form and found Lisa watching him. He couldn’t have laughed if he’d tried.
Being careful not to snap the pencil lead, he said, “What could your parents have possibly found not to like about you?”
She leaned toward him slightly. Tilting her face at a sassy angle, she said, “I know it’s hard to imagine, but I haven’t always been this shy and sweet.”
“You’re right. I do find that hard to believe.”
Wyatt heard her quick intake of breath and saw her eyes widen. He’d surprised her. He was amazed at how much satisfaction the knowledge gave him. However, her discomfiture didn’t last long. She closed her eyes, squared her shoulders and crossed her legs. Her red raincoat fell open, and Wyatt had his first up-close glimpse of her legs. Her ankles were small, her calves slightly muscular, her knees narrow. The skin just below the hem of her red Western skirt looked soft and supple and oh so touchable. His reaction was eager and as predictable as nightfall. By the time he managed to drag his gaze back to her face, she was staring at him knowingly.
She covered her legs with her coat and cast him an arch look that spoke volumes. “Shall we continue?”
Despite the fact that the room had warmed at least ten degrees and the blood seemed to have left his brain and was heading for a place south of there, Wyatt found himself wondering where Lisa Markman had acquired her spunk, her intelligence and her independent spirit. Before him sat a woman who could smile at whim and think on her feet. She was sassy and appealing, and she knew it. There weren’t many things more stimulating than a woman who recognized her own sensuality.
“If you don’t mind, Sheriff, I’d like to get back to the report.”
Wyatt reined in his wayward thoughts and did his best to ignore the pulsing knot that had formed low in his stomach. He asked her pertinent questions and finished filling out the form, an indefinable feeling of rightness growing with every breath he took. Lisa might have turned down his invitation to dinner last night, but she was as aware of the attraction between them as he was.
He would have preferred her to be open about her feelings, but he wasn’t opposed to a woman playing hard to get. Doing everything in his power to keep the smile of anticipation off his face, he turned the form around and indicated the place for her to sign.
She wrote her name with a flourish, then rose to her feet. Rising, too, he said, “We’re not talking about a pie thief here. We’re talking about grand theft auto, and I assure you I’ll do everything in my power to get to the bottom of it and get your car back to you. Now, how about that dinner I mentioned last night?”
He liked the look of genuine surprise that crossed her face, but when she raised her chin a notch, then paused as if she was searching for the proper words, he had a feeling he was in for another letdown. When she finally spoke, it was in a soft, conciliatory tone of voice he didn’t like one bit. “I hope you don’t take offense, Sheriff, but I’m afraid you’re just not my type.”
Wyatt felt his face fall, but she wasn’t finished. “Just so you know, I already have plans for the evening. I promised Butch Brunner I’d drive down to Rosebud to watch him ride a bronco at the rodeo tonight.”
As if she didn’t expect a reply, she turned and strode to the door. Ignoring his earlier warning about bad luck, she opened her umbrella and walked out into the rain.
* * *
Lisa smoothed a wrinkle from the lightweight denim jumper then pressed a tack into the lattice boards that divided the display window from the rest of the store. She knew it was late in the season to try to sell summer clothing, but she was hoping a new display and sale prices would lure the women of Jasper Gulch inside. She wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to get to Pierre to pick up the new fall merchandise, now that she was without a car, but she knew she’d find a way just like she always did.
She was probably the only person in the world who would move more than five hundred miles in order to open a clothing store in a town whose population barely reached five hundred during the worst drought in more than two decades. Still, she’d arrived in mid-July full of high hopes and big plans. Other than a flash-in-the-pan sales frenzy in the days before last month’s town picnic, business hadn’t exactly been booming. But the drought was over, and for now at least, the rain had stopped. Surely that was a good sign.
Melody McCully rapped on the window and waved as she passed by. Since Lisa’s hands were full of tacks and a man’s Western shirt, she gave Melody a wink and a smile that earned her a gesture that would have been unbecoming on anybody else. Lisa’s smile hovered around the edges of her mouth for a long time after she’d turned back to her task.
Mel McCully is nothing like her brother.
She jerked, as much from the thought of Wyatt as from the pain in the tip of the finger that had gotten in the way of one of her strategically placed tacks. Popping her finger into her mouth, she glanced out the window just in time to see Opal Graham and Isabell Pruitt avert their beady eyes and raise their self-righteous little chins.
Lisa recognized the open censure on their faces. For the life of her, she didn’t know what she’d done to deserve it. They hadn’t so much as spoken to her, so how could they possibly dislike her? Surely her hopes and dreams weren’t so much different than theirs had been when they were her age. At thirty, all Lisa wanted was a home, a family, a way to make ends meet and a man to love. When it came to a home, she wasn’t fussy. Any four walls would do. After all, she’d lived in enough places to know that it wasn’t the structure that brought security. She knew exactly what she was looking for in a man. Glancing at the racks and shelves containing everything from men’s work clothes to women’s skirts to children’s play clothes, she knew she could make her store a success, too. She just had to be patient.
The bell over the front door jingled. There, see? The customers are starting to come already. She had a smile ready before she could turn around.
Louetta Graham mumbled a shy greeting then quickly averted her eyes. Glancing at her watch, Lisa toned down the brightness of her smile a little and said, “Goodness, Louetta, I had no idea it was eleven-thirty already. Your arrival is just like clockwork.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
Lisa did everything in her power to soften her smile even more. Honestly, she’d never come across anyone more shy than Opal Graham’s daughter. Every time she saw Louetta, Lisa thought of a stray cat. Maybe it was her drab brown hair; or maybe it was the way she skirted the edges of a room to keep from coming face-to-face with anyone.
“Well. Um. I guess I’ll be going,” she whispered, her eyes on the old brown floorboards at her feet.
“You don’t have to go,” Lisa murmured. “You’re more than welcome to browse. Business has been kind of slow lately, and I look forward to your visits to my store.”
“You do?”
Lisa nodded.
“I’m glad, because coming here is the highlight of my day.”
Louetta flushed, and Lisa hid a smile to herself. Those were the most words she’d heard Louetta string together since she’d started coming here at exactly eleven-thirty a.m. five days ago.
According to Melody, Louetta was thirty-three years old. She looked older and acted younger. She was a little taller than Lisa, which would probably make her about the same height as Jillian, who was five-seven. Although it was difficult to tell underneath those long, baggy skirts and loose-fitting, high-collared blouses, Louetta probably had an ample bosom and long legs. The woman was as plain as plain could be, but she really was sweet.
“Is there anything I could help you find?” Lisa asked.
“Oh, no,” Louetta said hurriedly. “I’m just looking.”
“You just go right ahead and look to your heart’s content.”
Fifteen minutes later, Lisa had finished straightening the display of men’s jeans and Louetta was working her way toward the front of the store. Reaching for a hanger, Lisa said, “One day soon I’ll be getting in my new merchandise. I’d planned to pick it up today, but it looks like I’m going to have to make other arrangements.”
“Yes,” Louetta said, nodding for all she was worth. “I heard about your car. I feel really bad, too. Now Mother and Isabell are going to be able to tell everyone ‘I told you so.’”
Louetta’s hazel eyes grew round seconds before a blush climbed up her face. Covering her cheeks with her hands, she said, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Thrusting her hands to her hips, Lisa said, “Now Louetta, you haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know. I was sitting right there when old Isabell stood up at the town meeting last night.” Doing her best impression of a person with nasal problems, Lisa raised one finger and spouted, “‘Ill will come of that advertisement luring women to our peaceful town. Harlots and women of ill repute, that’s what that ad will draw. Mark my words.’”
Louetta’s eyes grew large. “Doesn’t that hurt your feelings?”
Dropping her hands to her sides, Lisa shrugged. “You know what they say about sticks and stones breaking bones.”
Lisa followed Louetta’s gaze to the toes of her sensible shoes. “I think that that saying is all wrong. I think names really can hurt. Well,” she added in a voice that was so quiet Lisa had to strain to hear, “I have to get back to the library.”
The bell over the door jingled when Louetta left, but Lisa stayed where she was, lost in thought. People had a way of amazing her. They always had. She remembered one educational summer she’d spent waitressing in an elite restaurant in Chicago. She’d made more in tips in one night than she made in an entire week anywhere else. The men who dined there wore suits a person simply didn’t find at the mall, and the women wore gowns, not dresses. They had everything: education, sophistication and money. At first sight they were the most beautiful people Lisa had ever seen. But by dessert their true colors usually reared, and it wasn’t a pretty picture. The contrast between those men and women and Louetta Graham was truly amazing. What was even more amazing was the fact that someone who was as plain as day could say something so profound that her true beauty began to emerge.
I think names really can hurt.
Louetta was right. Names were words, and words wielded incredible power. They could nurture, they could heal, and they could destroy. They were so important they even had a constitutional amendment to protect them. It was too bad folks didn’t have the same kind of protection from the people who used words in a harmful, hurtful way.
Glancing at her quiet store with all its racks of blue jeans and Western shirts, Lisa wondered if she’d hurt Wyatt’s feelings when she’d so blatantly told him he wasn’t her type. She hadn’t said it to hurt him. She’d only wanted to set him straight where she was concerned. Unfortunately, the fact that she’d had good intentions didn’t make it right. Wyatt McCully hadn’t said or done anything to warrant her curt attitude. He hadn’t really even said or done anything to lead her to believe he was interested in her in more than a friendly way. It wasn’t his fault her hormones went on red alert every time she looked at him. So he’d asked her to dinner. There was no law against that. Thirteen other bachelors had done the same thing, and she hadn’t gotten all bristly with them.
Wyatt was an honorable, steadfast man, which was exactly why he wasn’t her type. Still, if she had it to do over again, she would handle the situation in a way that wouldn’t hurt such a nice, kind, patient man’s feelings.
A horn blared out on the street. Lisa peeked around her new display just in time to see a patrol car pull up to the curb. Behind the wheel that nice, kind, patient man she had just been thinking about was laying on the horn.
She was out of the store in an instant. Leaning down in order to peer through the open window on the passenger side of the car, she said, “Wyatt, what in the world are you doing?”
“Get in.”
“What?” she asked.
“Get in.”
“Now why would I want to do that?”
His eyes darkened as he held her gaze. “Because I have business in Pierre and I figured you might as well ride along to pick up your merchandise.”
“I see.”
“I highly doubt that. I’ll give you a ride to Pierre. And like I said before, I have every intention of getting your car back for you. Since I doubt that’ll happen by tonight, you’ll have to find another ride down to the rodeo in Rosebud, because that’s where I draw the line.”
Lisa hadn’t expected Wyatt to be the type who drew invisible lines. She hadn’t expected him to be the type who didn’t let a person get a word in edgewise, either. But evidently he was on a roll.
“I’m supposed to be in Pierre in thirty minutes. And it’s a forty-minute drive. Are you coming?”
He didn’t say, “Or aren’t you?” but he might as well have. She stared at him for a full five seconds, amazed to find that the good sheriff had an ornery side.
Much to her surprise, she grinned. With a mock salute and her famous wink, she called, “Aye-aye, sir.”
Still smiling, she dashed away to get her purse and lock the store.

Lisa glanced over her shoulder at the boxes stacked in the back of the cruiser, then settled herself more comfortably in her seat. The check she’d written to pay for the new merchandise had nearly scraped the bottom of her bank account. But her rent was paid through the end of the year, and if she watched her spending, she might be able to make it until the store started showing a profit.
Keeping her fingers wrapped firmly around the hair at her nape, she turned her face into the warm air streaming through the open window and watched the scenery going by. This was definitely ranching country. The land was mostly flat, with occasional rolling hills dotted with small herds of cattle. The ranch houses were few and far between, rough-hewn fences and telephone poles stretching as far as the eye could see.
From the corner of her eye she saw Wyatt shift in his seat and rotate a kink out of his shoulders. She’d done everything in her power to cajole him out of his dark mood. So far she hadn’t been successful. That was unusual. People almost always responded to her sultry laughs and brash smiles. Evidently, the good sheriff was holding a grudge.
Trying to fill the silence stretching between them, she pointed to a gray wall of clouds on the horizon. “It looks like another thunderstorm is forming.”
He made a sound that meant yes, then fell silent once again. Lisa wanted to scream. She’d heard of yup and nope talkers, but this was ridiculous. Trying again, she said, “That’s good, isn’t it? Those clouds have a lot of dry weather to make up for. Maybe the ranchers out here won’t starve this winter after all. Maybe I won’t, either.”
She felt his eyes on her, but by the time she turned her head, he was watching the road again, his fingers looped around the steering wheel. Releasing a pent-up breath of air, she said, “No, business hasn’t really been very good. It’s so kind of you to ask.”
Wyatt bit down on the inside of one cheek, doing everything in his power to hold on to his vexation. Not that Lisa was making it easy. She’d been sultry and warm and more than a little brash since the moment they’d pulled away from the curb in front of her store an hour and a half ago. Whether she believed him or not, he had a lot on his mind.
Earlier he’d driven to her place on Elm Street to take a look around. The rain had washed away any tire tracks there might have been in the gravel driveway, but there was one faint impression left in the mud by a cowboy boot. Wyatt had measured it against his own foot. Although the print was smaller than his size twelve boots, it wasn’t much help. Other than Clayt and Luke, practically every man in the county had a smaller boot size than his. Lisa’s neighbors hadn’t seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. Whoever had taken that car hadn’t left many clues. Wyatt had been giving the matter a great deal of thought. People out here just didn’t steal cars. Or at least they never had. Why would someone steal Lisa’s?
He’d been giving the curt little declaration she’d made concerning his invitation to dinner a lot of thought, too. She had a smile that could warm him twenty degrees and a laugh that took his fantasies to another level entirely. And her body, well. She filled out her shirt to perfection, and he’d bet his badge that every last inch of her was the real thing. He’d lain awake imagining how her breasts would feel beneath his hands, his mouth. Wyatt McCully wasn’t exactly a ladies’ man, but no matter what she said, no matter what she claimed, the attraction between them was mutual.
“You know, Wyatt,” she grumbled, “although I truly appreciate the ride into Pierre and the little lunch you treated me to, this trip would go a lot faster if you’d keep up your end of the conversation.”
He glanced at her, and found her looking out the window. One hand was on her seat belt, the other was holding her hair in a low ponytail at her nape. The breeze streaming through the window toyed with the strands surrounding her face. He liked the way the wind pressed her plain white T-shirt against her body, but he had to admit he liked her straightforwardness just as much.
“Okay.”
She turned her head slowly. “What do you mean ‘okay’?” she asked, suspicion raising her voice and widening her eyes.
He managed to keep a smile off his face, because she had every reason to be suspicious. “Okay,” he repeated. “I’ll see what I can do about keeping up my end of the conversation.”
“You will?”
He nodded. He didn’t see any harm in talking. In fact, talking might just lead to a little insight and a lot of understanding.
Turning off the highway near Capa, he said, “Do you have any theories as to why business hasn’t been very good so far?”
“The economy hasn’t exactly been the greatest since I moved to town, you know? I think the drought has made everyone leery of spending a dollar they might need to feed their families next winter.”
Wyatt hadn’t realized he’d gripped the steering wheel tighter, but Lisa must have noticed because she was watching him closely. This time his silence hadn’t been intentional. He was always quiet when he crossed the bridge spanning the Bad River. Today, the river wasn’t the only thing on his mind.
Wyatt was a rancher’s son and a rancher’s grandson. He’d grown up in a family that had relied on elements like rain and snow and bottomed-out beef prices to make a living. He’d gone without new shoes and new clothes on more than one occasion. To this day, he remembered how his father used to say, “You can wear secondhand clothes, but you can’t eat secondhand food.”
Most of the folks out here had their priorities firmly in order. Even though Lisa hadn’t been here long, she’d put her finger on the pulse that made these people who they were. He didn’t know why, but the fact that she seemed to understand them on an instinctive, fundamental level made his heart feel two sizes larger.
Pointing to a place a hundred yards downstream, he said, “My parents drowned on the other side of that bend in the river.”
Wyatt clamped his mouth shut. For crying out loud, where had that come from? He sure hadn’t intended to tell her that. He wanted a response from her, but he wasn’t looking for sympathy, not by a long shot.
“Do you want to tell me how it happened?” she asked.
He tried to square his shoulders against her allure, but he made the mistake of looking into her eyes, and he was lost. Aw, hell. Now that he’d brought it up, there wasn’t much else he could do except finish it. Staring straight ahead, he said, “They were crossing an old bridge after a spring downpour. The river was dangerously high, but my mother was sick, and my father was trying to get her to the clinic in Pierre. The river took out the bridge, and them with it.”
Wyatt had been eleven that year. Since then, he’d experienced a lot of important days in his life. The day he graduated from high school, the day he first pinned on his badge, the day he stood up as Clayt’s best man. But he’d never experienced another day that was as vivid and clear in his mind as that day had been.
“What were they like?”
“They were honest, hardworking folks. My father’s name was Joe, my mother’s was Eleanor. Everyone called her Ellie. They were good people, and like most ranchers around here, they were used to doing without. I guess some things never change. The bachelors can attest to that. We’ve certainly had to get used to doing without, and I can’t think of anybody who’s happy about it, except maybe Isabell.”
Lisa laughed. It was the last thing he’d expected her to do, but it made him feel a little taller, a little broader. Her laugh was deep, throaty, sexy. It let him know that she was well aware of exactly what it was he’d been doing without.
“I’m sorry, Wyatt. I don’t mean to seem irreverent about what happened to your parents. Tragedy has a way of shaping us, forever changing us. It’s just that I think you’re right. Old Isabell is probably as pleased as punch about your, er, predicament.”
Heat crept through him. He knew where it came from, and he knew where it was headed. He hadn’t been exaggerating. The nights out here had grown longer and lonelier with every passing month. In its heyday some thirty years ago, Jasper Gulch had had more than seven hundred residents. With the steady departure of its single women these past three decades, the number barely reached five hundred today. Sixty-two of the current residents were bachelors between the ages of twenty and seventy-five. Until Lisa and Jillian’s arrival last month, and a handful of single women since, there had only been six marriageable women.
Feeling her eyes on him, he said, “Then you believe me when I say we’ve suffered?”
She turned her head, but not before he saw her smile. “Oh, I believe you. I’m just a little surprised so many women left, that’s all.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t many job prospects out here, other than becoming a rancher’s wife, that is. The girls who left didn’t want the seclusion of a rancher’s life. They wanted more.”
“I’m surprised at least one of them didn’t want you.”
Lisa clamped her lips together, thinking her mouth was going to be the death of her yet. It had gotten her into a lot of trouble over the years. Until about five seconds ago, she’d thought she’d outgrown it. Since there wasn’t much she could do except look at Wyatt to gauge his reaction, she turned her head.
She was in trouble all right. His eyes had closed partway and had warmed to a darker shade of brown. One corner of his mouth lifted, creasing one lean cheek. If she’d been a woman who played games, she would have touched that crease with the back of her finger. But she hadn’t come all the way to Jasper Gulch to play games. She came to start over and to find a man like her.
No matter how interested Wyatt was, no matter how that interest made her feel, she knew what she had to do. This time she’d do it in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings.
She was still trying to find the proper words when he said, “Now that you know about my past, how about telling me about yours?”
Lisa’s mind cleared, and her objectivity returned. She’d been searching frantically for a way to put an end to his interest once and for all. Unknowingly he’d handed her the perfect opportunity. Now if she could just bring herself to talk about her least favorite subject in all the world.
Pretending to watch the scenery going by, she said, “What would you like to know?”

Chapter Three (#ulink_dcbbb524-c773-5a69-bfc8-197dc58209fb)
“For starters,” Wyatt said in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the country-western song playing on the radio, “you could tell me where you grew up.”
Lisa tried to concentrate on the way the wind whipped her hair into her eyes. She tried to imagine how long it was going to take to get the tangles out, and how much work she had ahead of her emptying boxes once she got back to the store. She tried to think about anything that didn’t have to do with her childhood. But Wyatt had asked, and she knew she’d answer, eventually.
She would have preferred him to ask why she’d decided to come to South Dakota or why she’d wanted to open a clothing store or how she’d earned her living before moving out here. But people always seemed more interested in where she’d been and what she’d done a long time ago.
Taking a deep breath, she began in the usual way. “I was born in Chicago, but I grew up in a lot of places.”
“Did your parents move around when you were a kid?”
“I moved around on my own.” If she’d looked at him, she probably would have seen questions in his eyes, but she had to hand it to him, he didn’t pry.
Since she had good reason for telling him about her childhood, she waded through a few more moments of silence then said, “I ran away a couple of days before I turned fifteen.”
He didn’t ask why. He didn’t ask how. He simply waited for her to continue. After a while she said, “Come on, Sheriff, you must be dying to know why I ran away.”
He seemed to be taking his time searching for the appropriate reply. By the time he spoke, they’d reached the village limits on the north end of town. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t have good reasons for doing what you did. Did you ever go back?”
It wasn’t the question people normally asked at this point. It confused her and sent a strange, disquieting feeling through her. He didn’t know her very well, yet he seemed to believe in her. What was a woman supposed to do with a man like that?
Staring at the hard, lean lines of his profile, she said, “I went back a few times. The cops’ idea, not mine. But I always left again.”
Wyatt could see Lisa out of the corner of his eye. She’d let go of her hair, and it was whipping across her face, into her eyes and mouth. He’d wondered where she’d acquired her strength and her independence of spirit. He was beginning to get a pretty good idea. In his mind he pictured a police officer dragging a skinny girl whose dark brown eyes were too big for her face back to a place she didn’t want to go. Something told him she wouldn’t have been a willing passenger. Oh, no, Lisa Markman had probably gone back kicking and screaming bloody murder.
“No wonder you’re leery of a man wearing a badge.”
“What makes you think that?”
It was his turn to be surprised. “You implied that.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Then you don’t dislike men in uniform?” he asked.
“Of course not.”
“What about me? Do you dislike me?”
“I think you’re very nice.”
Easing into a small, tentative smile, he said, “Nice enough to take in dinner and a movie with me?”
“Too nice for that.”
Suddenly the word nice sounded as grating as fingernails scraping a blackboard. “I beg your pardon?” he croaked.
Her hands covered her cheeks. “Oh, my gosh. I’ve done it again, haven’t I? I’m sorry if that sounded like an insult. It was far from intentional. You really are a very nice man. You’re like one of those good guys on TV, right down to your white hat. You probably go to bed by eleven every night and to church every Sunday. Heck, you were probably a choirboy when you were a kid. Now that you know about my past, you should understand why I’m looking for someone completely different.”
It took a lot to make Wyatt mad, but no matter what she said, he was no saint. He clamped his mouth shut and jerked the car to a stop in a parking space in front of the store. He threw the gearshift into Park, got out, kicked his door shut and gave the back door a yank. Slightly dismayed, Lisa got out, too. Hoisting a heavy box into his arms, Wyatt looked at her over the top of his car. The smile she attempted did nothing to put him in a better frame of mind.
“Look,” she said, carrying a smaller box to the front door, “I probably didn’t say any of that the way I should have. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Instead of replying, he waited for her to unlock the door, then plowed past her into the store and dropped the box on the floor, only to stride back out to the sidewalk to get another. Lisa figured there was nothing like anger to light a fire underneath a man’s feet. By the time the trunk and back seat were empty, Wyatt had made two trips for every one of hers. And he still hadn’t uttered a word.
She felt horrid, but for the life of her she didn’t know what to do or say to make things right. Still, she had to try. “Look, Sheriff—”
He stopped abruptly. Spinning around, he hiked the box to one hip and scooped his hat off his head. “If you’re thinking about apologizing again, there’s no need. Your opinion of me is certainly humbling, but no matter what you think, I don’t spend all my time rescuing kittens out of trees.”
“Of course you don’t. I didn’t mean to imply—”
“For your information, I broke up a band of cattle thieves a few years back, and I once arrested a bank robber down in Westover.”
Wyatt crammed his hat on his head and hid a world-size cringe. Why didn’t he bring up the trophy he took for roping calves when he was thirteen, for cripe’s sakes?
They stared at each other. Neither of them smiled or moved or said a word. Her dark hair was messed, wispy tendrils framing her face in total disarray. Wyatt imagined it would look much the same after a long night of making love. He spent so much time on that thought he had to remind himself to breathe, but he certainly didn’t have to remind himself what the heat coursing through him meant.
Watching the play of emotions cross her face, he couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking. If their hearts weren’t beating the same rhythm he would eat his hat. She may have thought he was nice on an intellectual level, but physically her body was thrumming with something much more earthy and sensual and wild, and so was his. He moved closer, his breathing a husky rasp in his own ears, his eyes trained on her mouth, his thoughts slowing to only one.
A sound near the door stopped his forward motion. Wyatt glanced up as Cletus rushed in, winded. “Boy, I’ve been waiting for you to get back for hours.”
“What is it, Granddad?”
“Mertyl Gentry’s fit to be tied. She was almost in tears the last time she called. Made me promise I’d tell you the second you pulled into town.”
Wyatt nodded abruptly, hoping the gesture would spur his grandfather to tell him what the old woman was upset about. Mertyl Gentry was a seventy-eight-year-old widow who’d lived in the same house on Pike Street for sixty years. A few days ago he would have assumed she was calling to complain about neighbor kids trampling her flowers. Now that he knew a car thief was on the loose, he wasn’t so quick to dismiss the possibility of something much more serious.
“Is Mertyl all right?” he asked.
“Far as I know.”
Wyatt glanced at Lisa and found her eyes mirroring his own concern. “Granddad,” he sputtered. “Are you going to tell me or aren’t you?”
Cletus snapped his suspenders and raised his craggy chin. “I’m gettin’ to it, I’m gettin’ to it. Ya don’t hafta get huffy. It’s that confounded cat of hers. Went and got himself stuck up in a tree again. Mertyl says you’re the only person she trusts to get him down safe and sound.”
Adrenaline seeped out of Wyatt like a tire with a leaky valve. He vacillated between dropping his head into his hands and telling Mertyl Gentry to get her own stupid cat out of her tree.
“What’s the matter, boy? Cat got your tongue?”
Wyatt wished his grandfather had used some other cliché. He glanced at Lisa and found her looking back at him. She didn’t say a word, but the lift of her eyebrows spoke volumes.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/sandra-steffen/wyatt-s-most-wanted-wife/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.