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A Texan in Her Bed
Sara Orwig


“I’ve been looking forward to tonight all afternoon long.”
“First you want me to pack and return to Chicago and then you tell me you’ve been wanting to go out with me. That’s contradictory,” Destiny said, but Wyatt saw the desire in her gaze.
“My feelings are contradictory,” he said. “You’re a complication in my quiet life.” Her wide green eyes made him yearn to tell her to do whatever she wanted in Verity.
“A few complications in life sometimes makes it more interesting. You’ll be able to handle this one, I’m sure.”
“I can’t wait to handle this complication,” he said in a husky voice, his heart drumming as he looked at her full lips.
He knew she wasn’t going to leave quietly. She would be a constant challenge to him … the most enticing challenge he’d ever had in his life.
* * *
A Texan in Her Bed is part of the Lone Star Legends series from USA TODAY bestselling author Sara Orwig
A Texan in Her Bed
Sara Orwig

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SARA ORWIG lives in Oklahoma. She has a patient husband who will take her on research trips anywhere, from big cities to old forts. She is an avid collector of Western history books. With a master’s degree in English, Sara has written historical romance, mainstream fiction and contemporary romance. Books are beloved treasures that take Sara to magical worlds, and she loves both reading and writing them.
With many thanks to Stacy Boyd, Senior Editor.
Contents
Cover (#uf8929e66-53b9-5c68-b126-fd7fd8fb3a8a)
Introduction (#uf45a1b18-98dd-575c-b4ae-0f5655124f83)
Title Page (#ubdc03e36-8bfa-5625-9873-743b47882a13)
About the Author (#u78952e31-f64f-52ec-afa4-5ccb024d3f39)
Dedication (#u62c23646-6010-52ad-8c61-d0fff599b862)
Chapter One (#u826bd4a3-8d4d-5288-a20e-b10e3170fc45)
Chapter Two (#u8fe90eae-3843-5f57-add5-e7c3086b9e4a)
Chapter Three (#u33666229-f105-5477-b77a-f1b8b41f933f)
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)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#uab513573-dbcd-52a6-bb5e-b11637f87494)
What Sheriff Wyatt Milan liked most about his job was that he knew what to expect in his quiet town of Verity, Texas. But on this October afternoon when he turned his car around the corner onto Main Street he knew change was in the air.
A red limousine took up his parking space, plus some, right in front of city hall.
“What the hell?” he said quietly.
“Gosh almighty, there goes a quiet afternoon,” Deputy Lambert whispered. “Will you look at that,” he said louder.
Wyatt was looking. Directly in front of the small city hall building stood a prominent sign with large letters: No Parking—Reserved for the Sheriff of Verity, Texas.
He had expected the usual big empty space where he could park Verity’s official black-and-red sheriff’s car. Instead, the red stretch limousine took every inch of the allotted area.
He and his family had money, as did many families in the town, but no one owned anything as flashy as an all-red limo. “That limo doesn’t belong to anyone living in these parts,” Wyatt said, more to himself than to his deputy, thinking something was about to shatter some of the peacefulness of his hometown.
“In my whole life, I’ve never seen a limo that big and that red,” Val said with awe in his voice. “I’ll go look for the driver.”
“He may be inside.”
“No one was scheduled to see you today, were they?”
“No,” Wyatt said, halting beside the limo. “You write a ticket and stick it on the windshield. Come in when you’re through. If the owner or the driver isn’t here, we’ll go look around town for him. The people who live here want a quiet, peaceful town. I want one, too. Thanks to my sister marrying a Calhoun, the old Milan-Calhoun feud has finally died down. I don’t want something happening to bring trouble elsewhere in town.”
“Amen to that. Why would anyone park a big limo in the sheriff’s space?”
“Either he’s lazy, starting trouble, unobservant or he’s someone who thinks he can do whatever he wants. Who knows?”
Deputy Lambert stepped out and Wyatt drove around the corner and parked in the alley behind the building, in the small space allotted for two cars and a nearby Dumpster. His life had had enough upheavals—an emotional breakup years earlier with his fiancée and then coming home to his brother fighting with a Calhoun neighbor, keeping the century-old family feud explosive. When people wanted him to run for sheriff of Verity County, based in the town of Verity, he’d had to quiet fights between his brother Tony and Tony’s neighbor Lindsay Calhoun. Everything was finally coming under control. He didn’t want someone to come to town and destroy the peace he had worked hard to establish. He shook his head as he entered city hall. He hoped this was settled quickly and quietly and the red limo drove out of Verity the same way it’d come in.
Entering the Verity County sheriff’s office through the back door, Wyatt walked down the long hall. His boot heels scraped the scuffed boards as he passed the large file room, a small break room and a meeting room with a small table and chairs. The hallway continued, dissecting the stone building. To the right were the mayor’s office, the town records office and the utilities office. To the left were the sheriff’s office and a two-cell jail. The center reception area was lined with vinyl-covered benches and in the middle was a desk where a clerk sat. Wyatt looked at Corporal Dwight Quinby whose wide eyes sent a silent message that something was up here at the office. Dwight’s tangled light brown hair became more snarled as he ran his fingers through it.
“Sheriff, there’s a woman in your office. When she said she wanted to see you, I told her to have a seat out here, that you’d be back soon, but she talked me into telling where your office is and letting her go back there. I don’t even know how she did it. First thing I knew she smiled and was gone,” he said, sounding dazed.
“Dwight, slow down,” Wyatt drawled quietly. “Who is she? What’s her name?”
“I didn’t get her name. I don’t know—one moment she was here and the next she was in your office. I don’t know what happened.”
“Tell Val when he comes in that I’ve found the limo passenger. Tell him to look around town for a uniformed driver and get that thing moved out of my parking place. Or call Argus and tell him to come tow that limo away from here.”
“You might change your mind after you meet her,” Dwight said.
Startled, Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t think so. You call and get it towed,” he said, curious now who was waiting in his office and why Dwight would say such a thing or look so dazed.
“Yes, sir,” Dwight replied, glancing through the oval glass in the front door that offered a good view of the red limousine.
“Sheriff, you haven’t ever met anyone like her,” Dwight said, surprising Wyatt even more with such an uncustomary reaction.
With a long sigh, Wyatt headed for his office. Whatever the woman wanted, she’d have to move the limo before they did anything else. He hoped she wasn’t moving to Verity. The town was filled with enough affluent people who thought they had special rights and privileges. It took tact and diplomacy to deal with them, including his own family sometimes.
In this case, he felt the owner of the limo lost all rights to tact and diplomacy when she had the limo parked in the sheriff’s space.
Wyatt opened the door of his office and walked in. Instantly he forgot all about the limo.
His gaze focused on a long-legged redhead seated in a leather wingback chair that was turned slightly toward the door. Big green eyes immobilized him, a sensation that Wyatt was unaccustomed to. With an effort his gaze left hers, trailing over her while his breath left his body. Dimly, he wondered if another movie was going to be filmed in or near Verity and this was the star. A riot of curly auburn hair spilled over her shoulders, giving her a sensual, earthy look that heated his insides. Flawless, smooth skin heightened her allure. Her green dress emphasized the color of her eyes and clung to a figure that threatened to melt his thought processes. Lush curves turned the room temperature to the heat of a West Texas summer. He noted her tiny waist, but then his gaze traveled down where the dress ended at her crossed knees, down long shapely legs.
“Well, good morning to the illustrious sheriff of Verity County,” she said, drawing out her words in a throaty voice that sounded like a suggestive invitation to sin instead of a greeting.
Without conscious thought of what he was doing, Wyatt walked toward her. He stopped in front of her. A faint hint of a smile gave a slight curve to her full, red lips and he couldn’t keep from wondering what it would be like to kiss her.
“Good morning. It’s Wyatt Milan,” he said, waiting for her to respond and give him her name.
She smiled and his knees almost buckled. Her smile was dazzling and lit up her face as if she were the friendliest person in the state of Texas, and in that moment he understood why his clerk had been so dazzled.
When she held out her hand, he took it, his fingers closing around a dainty, warm hand that sent electricity streaking through him. A beautiful pearl-and-diamond band was on one of her fingers. He glanced at her other hand to see it was bare of rings.
“I’m Destiny Jones, Sheriff Milan. I’m from Chicago.”
As if she had plunged a knife into his heart, Wyatt came out of his daze. He had never met the woman, but he knew the name and he knew about her. His wits began to work again and his breathing steadied, and he could almost view her without an intense physical reaction. As if his emotions were on a pendulum, his feelings about her swung in the opposite direction and he viewed her as pure trouble.
“Destiny Jones, as in Desirée Jones’s sister,” he said, recalling the headline-making, temperamental, stunningly beautiful movie star he had once had an affair with while she was on location in Verity. An affair that had ended badly. He remembered Desirée talking about her older sister who hosted a television show about unsolved mysteries and had written a bestselling book, Unsolved Mysteries of the South.
“Ah, you remember,” she replied.
“I always remember a beautiful woman,” he said, his gaze traveling leisurely over Destiny’s features even as his guard came up. Both sisters were breathtaking, but they were both probably casual about their relationships. He had known that with Desirée and he guessed that now about Destiny.
“I’ve been waiting three years to meet the illustrious sheriff of Verity, Texas, and now I finally get to do so,” she said with a smile that threatened to melt the polar ice caps. “You’re a Milan, the family involved in a feud with the Calhouns.”
“So you know about the feud,” he said, suspecting trouble was coming his way within hours.
He turned a leather chair to face her and sat only a couple of feet away. “So you’re in town for what purpose?” he asked bluntly, mildly amused that she had taken his parking place, made herself comfortable in his office and now with him. He saw no reason to waste time in polite chitchat. He was still idly curious, however, and he couldn’t deny the thought of asking her to dinner crossed his mind.
“For one thing, I hope I can have an interview with you about the Lavita Wrenville house. I think it will be a wonderful subject for my Unsolved Mysteries television show.”
Her words made him focus more rationally on her. He smiled only to be polite. The Wrenville house was where a Milan and a Calhoun had once fought over the same woman and both men, along with her father, had been shot to death. Century-old murders that could stir up the feud again.
“The Wrenville house,” he said. “That place really isn’t very interesting and there is nothing you can do at this time to solve the murders that happened in the house. That was over a century ago, old news with cold clues. At best, you might come back next year when the town of Verity has full rights to the property.”
“That’s interesting. I’d like to hear more about the town getting full rights. Even if I can’t get a solution, I’d like to present the story about the house and family because it’s unknown, unusual and I think it could be of interest to my audience.”
“You might check Texas history because I think you’ll find other unsolved mysteries that are far more fascinating in places far more appealing.”
“That’s interesting to know, too, Sheriff Milan,” she said, giving him a sweet smile. “But I really want to do this one. And you should know I pursue what I want.”
“And I imagine you’re accustomed to getting what you want,” he said, his gaze flicking over her. He guessed most men found it difficult to tell her no, especially with her devastating smile.
“That happens often,” she said, leaning forward and shortening the gap between them. “I’m curious, Sheriff Milan,” she said in a pleasant tone that probably ended most men’s resistance, “why are you so set on discouraging me about the Wrenville house?”
“Verity is a quiet town with residents who like the status quo. As sheriff, I definitely like peace and quiet. If you’ll look around, you won’t find any tourist attractions. We do have a tiny museum, but it’s not very interesting. Ditto our small library.”
She smiled. “I assure you, I’m not planning to make this a tourist attraction. Maybe it’s well you don’t work for the Chamber of Commerce or the Tourist Center.”
“We don’t have a Tourist Center,” he said quietly. “That should give you an idea.”
From the moment he had discovered the red limo, this woman had been surprising him, but her purpose for being here was an even bigger surprise—and an unpleasant one.
“I’m sorry you came all this way, Ms. Jones. You should have contacted me and I could have saved you the trouble. Lavita Wrenville was the last surviving Wrenville and she deeded the place to the town of Verity. According to the deed, we can’t do anything to the grounds or house until next year, when it reverts totally to the town. I’m sheriff and I’m not opening that house.”
“I am so sorry that you’re unhappy about this, Sheriff Milan.” Leaning back, she rummaged through a large purse. Gold bangles jingled on her arm and while her attention was on her purse, he looked her over from head to toe once again, his insides tightening as he envisioned her without the dress. As he gazed at her, she withdrew two envelopes and held them out to him. With a sinking feeling, he recognized the logo on one. “I wrote the governor of Texas, and I’ve written the mayor of Verity. I have letters from both stating clearly that I may look through the Wrenville house. Actually, I’m here as a guest of the state of Texas. You have such a nice governor. If you’d like to read the letters, here they are.”
Wyatt held back a groan and resisted swearing. The last thing he wanted was someone stirring up the old family feud and drawing tourists who would want to walk through the Wrenville house. The dread that he experienced earlier—that his peaceful life and the public serenity of Verity were on the brink of destruction by one headstrong, sexy redhead—was coming true before his eyes.
* * *
A few moments later, after he’d read the letters, Wyatt made a mental note to talk to the mayor. Gyp Nash hadn’t let him know one thing about Destiny Jones coming to Verity to see the Wrenville house. Gyp didn’t like conflict, so that’s probably why he had avoided telling Wyatt. But for the mayor to say how “thrilled” the townspeople would be that the Wrenville story would be the subject of one of her shows... Did Nash know this town at all?
He gave her back her letters. “Very nice,” he said in clipped tones, trying to think what he could do to get rid of her.
“The Wrenville house is a big, dusty, empty house. There are all sorts of rumors and a legend about the property. People and kids have looked through it over the years until finally there’s no interest in it. I want to keep it that way,” he said. He felt a clash of wills with the charming, breathtaking bit of trouble that was sitting only a few feet from him. Along with the friction was a strong physical appeal that he didn’t want, but couldn’t shake.
“I suspect you’ve been through the house?”
“Oh, sure, when I was in high school. Kids used to be curious and there were all sorts of wild rumors, but they all died out. Ask people who have high school kids—there’s no interest now. Jump back to my grandparents’ generation and fights would break out over whether a Milan or a Calhoun shot first and killed the other as well as Lavita Wrenville’s father that fatal night. In the three years that I’ve been sheriff we haven’t had a fight break out over who fired the killing shots, nor have I had a trespassing call at the Wrenville place. It’ll be better for the Calhouns and the Milans when the old house is gone. It serves as a reminder of the feud.”
“Well, I’m curious and you’re not discouraging me. It’s a fascinating story of three unsolved murders and perhaps a hidden fortune. That’s an intriguing mystery.”
“Not really. There were three murders, but they took place in the late 1800s. That’s so long ago no one cares now,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing. “And as for the so-called fortune, Lavita Wrenville never married, was eccentric and may have saved some money and hidden it, but she was considered by most to be poverty stricken after she went through the money left to her by her father. All I’ve ever heard was that she lived in poverty and off other people’s charity.”
“Maybe you’re too closely involved,” Destiny said lightly, her constant smiles softening her persistent argument with him. “I find that it’s still an interesting subject and I hope I can persuade you to give me an interview. I would be absolutely thrilled,” she said in a throaty voice that made him think of hot kisses instead of a factual interview. “After all, you are a Milan and one of the men murdered in that house was a Milan—wasn’t one of your ancestors rumored to have been murdered by a Calhoun?”
“Unfortunately, yes, that’s my family’s version, though the Calhouns say it was a Calhoun murdered by a Milan. But it was way before my time and I sure as hell didn’t know him. There’s not that much to talk about. Later in her life, Lavita Wrenville was considered a recluse and an eccentric old maid. End of information.”
“Sheriff Milan, I hope it’s not the end of information or our conversations. I imagine you know all sorts of things, maybe more than anyone else, about history here.” She rewarded him with another dazzling smile that made him want to stop arguing with her. “I have been looking forward so much to meeting you.”
He could see why Dwight didn’t know how she had talked him into letting her wait in Wyatt’s office. It was difficult to keep his mind on his subject with her hanging on his every word, smiling at him constantly and sounding as if she might be talking to the most brilliant man in Verity. That plus her looks probably caused her to get her way almost 100 percent of the time. Of their own will, his eyes glanced down at her long legs. Just looking at them sparked desire. He didn’t want to give her an interview. He wanted to seduce her and then send her on her way.
“Maybe I can get you to change your mind about the interview,” she said in a breathy voice.
“You can try,” he replied with amusement.
“I think that will be a fun project.”
He found himself excited by the challenge. Yes, it was going to be difficult to say no to Destiny Jones.
With an effort he looked up again. He gazed into the green eyes that held him captive. His every nerve sizzled, his pulse quickened and his breathing altered. He wanted to reach for her and close the last bit of distance between them even though he knew this whole conversation was to get what she wanted from him.
“Sheriff Milan,” she drawled.
With an effort he sat straighter. “No interview,” he gasped, struggling to get his voice back to normal while fighting the urge to lean the last few inches and kiss her.
She smiled. “I hope you’ll change your mind. You’re part of this town and one of families involved in the famous feud and you’re sheriff—there would be a lot of interest.”
“I lead a quiet life. I don’t think I would be that interesting and the feud is fading, so I don’t care to bring it back into the limelight.”
She laughed, a sunny, contagious, merry sound that he could listen to all day. His mind groped for sanity and to get back to a factual, impersonal conversation. He felt as if he wanted to loosen his collar. Even more, he wanted to reach for her, to kiss that full mouth and feel her softness pressed against him. Lost in that mental picture, he struggled to remember what he had to discuss with her.
“Your limo is in my parking place and you have a ticket,” he blurted in an effort to get back to business. His voice came out with a husky note and it was difficult to think about business or anything except giving in to her or kissing her. He didn’t like that loss of control. He didn’t give in to his urges anymore, not after getting his heart broken by Katherine. “We’ve called to have the limo towed,” he said, beginning to gather his wits. “Where’s your driver?”
“I told him I’d call him when I’m through talking to you. He’s just looking at the town or getting coffee. He’s not far.”
“You need to get that limo moved now,” Wyatt declared, barely aware of what he said to her, also barely noticing that she had no reaction to his announcement that her limo would be towed.
“Oh, he will as soon as I’m finished here. I can be persistent, Sheriff Milan, when I want something,” she said. “I want to try to change your mind. You do change your mind sometimes, don’t you?” She asked in such a friendly, good-natured tone, he had to laugh.
“Yes, I can change my mind,” he replied, thinking she was the biggest challenge he had had in too long to remember. He couldn’t recall ever being so totally distracted. “Are you staying in Verity tonight, or somewhere else?” he said, knowing her answer but hoping for a different one.
“My staff and I are staying in the Verity Hotel.”
“A good place to stay. The Verity Hotel doesn’t have any unsolved mysteries or even ancient legends, but it’s an old hotel dating back to 1887. It burned in the early 1900s and was rebuilt. It has been remodeled several times including in 2002, as well as in the past three years when it was completely renovated. It’s a nice place to stay.”
As he talked, he continued to study her, struggling to drag his attention elsewhere. Her movie star, younger sister was breathtakingly beautiful, far more flirty, but Destiny was a combination of friendly charm and sensuality, a sexual appeal that set his pulse pounding. He suspected his reaction was generally the same as it was with every man she encountered.
“Did Mayor Nash tell you the history of Verity or the Wrenville house?”
“No,” she said. “He merely welcomed me to town and seemed happy that I had an interest in using the Wrenville house for one of my subjects. I have an appointment with him later this week.”
Wyatt wanted to say, I’ll bet you do. Instead, different words came out of his mouth. “Since you don’t know our history, let me take you to dinner tonight and I’ll tell you about it.” The words just popped out as if he had no control over what he said. For his own good he should get rid of this woman and avoid her as much as possible. Instead, he had invited her out. And dammit, he could not keep from hoping she would accept.
“How delightful,” she said, smiling again. “Thank you. I would love to go to dinner with you and hear about your life, Verity and the Wrenville house. I can send my limo to pick you up.”
Her words lifted the fog that had settled on his brain. Smiling, he shook his head. “Thanks. I’ll come to the hotel and get you. Seven?”
“Fine,” she said, standing and offering her hand.
He wrapped his fingers around hers, stepping closer to her at the same time. She didn’t step back, but instead continued to smile as she looked up at him. He was within inches, his hand holding hers, sending streaks of fire from the simple physical contact. She had a lush body made for love, and tonight, he intended to take her to dinner and afterward, to seduce her. And he hoped she would be willing in an effort to get what she wanted from him.
“It’s been interesting,” he said in a husky voice.
“But you wish I’d go away,” she said, softening her words with another one of her fabulous smiles.
“I didn’t say that I didn’t like you. You’re big city—we’re small town,” he said in a husky voice. “Charming, stunning and captivating.”
“Thank you, Sheriff Milan. How nice you are.”
“It’s Wyatt. I have a feeling we’ll see each other often while you’re here,” he said, wondering if she would be as enticing to kiss as he thought she might be.
“We’ll see each other,” she said, the breathless note returning to her voice. “I think hierarchy is on my side on this one. The governor of Texas trumps the sheriff of Verity. I came prepared. My sister has told me about you in great detail.”
He merely smiled, recalling how angry her sister had been with him the last hour they had spent together. She had wanted him to go back to California with her and she was accustomed to getting her way. When he had refused, it did not go well. If she’d planned to stay, he’d have broken up with her, but since she was leaving Verity forever, he played the affair to its end, even though he had grown tired of her and her appeal had fizzled.
He suspected her older sister was just as stubborn. In spite of Destiny’s smiles and polite charm, he continually felt their clash of wills.
He dropped her hand and headed to the door. As she walked beside him, he inhaled the scent of her mesmerizing perfume. He opened his office door and they walked out into the reception area where a group had gathered. Cameras flashed while people clamored noisily as they surged toward her.
Wyatt stepped in front of her, shielding her from the reporters that he easily recognized, two local, the others from the area and one from a Fort Worth station and one from Dallas. His deputy came forward to help, but Destiny stepped easily in front of Wyatt.
“I’ll be happy to answer your questions,” she said, smiling at the media.
“Not in here, please,” Wyatt said in an authoritative tone that caused a hush. “Folks, take the interview across the street. We have to conduct business here, not a press conference. Jeff, Millie, Duncan—outside, please,” Wyatt said, calling the names of the reporters that had the most influence. He knew nearly everyone in the crowd.
“We’ll go across the street,” Destiny said, smiling at the crowd and shaking someone’s outstretched hand.
Wyatt watched a man and a woman emerge from the crowd. He didn’t know them, but they flanked Destiny and he guessed they were two of her staff members.
“Dammit,” he said quietly, thinking about Destiny putting the Wrenville house—and, as a result, the Milans, the Calhouns and their feud—on television for the world to view. He didn’t think it would be any easier to keep her out of the Wrenville house than to get her out of his parking spot.
“I’m going to see Gyp,” he said tersely to his deputy.
He shook his head. “The mayor left for the day. He said to tell you he would see you in the morning.”
“Dammit,” Wyatt repeated, turning to go back into his office, figuring Gyp had ducked out on him because he knew Wyatt would be unhappy. Wyatt shook his head as he swore again. Townspeople would not be thrilled when Destiny Jones fanned the flames of old animosities.
Abruptly, Wyatt headed out the back door of city hall, circling to Main Street in long strides, hoping the limo was gone and her impromptu press conference was over. As he turned the corner, he stopped short. Not only was the red limo still in his parking place, but her audience had grown. In addition, a TV truck was parked down the street, lights had been set up and he could see men with video cameras. Shaking his head, Wyatt stared at the circus going on across the street. The lady knew how to draw a crowd. He made a mental note to get a private room for their dinner.
Wyatt scanned the crowd that spilled into the street and lined the sidewalk. He recognized Dustin Redwing and Pete Lee, two men who worked for him. He saw the curly white hair of Horace Pringle, the president of Verity’s largest bank. Ty Hemmings, the owner of the movie theater, was in the audience, along with several other shop owners. He spotted Farley White, his mechanic.
Wyatt knew nearly everyone in the gathering. He shook his head at the sight of Charlie Akin, the local eccentric who lived in a shack along the river in a neighboring county. Periodically, the river flooded, taking Charlie’s shack. He moved downriver or upriver, staying in the general area and built another shack, taking his goats and chickens with him. Wyatt wondered how Charlie had gotten word that Destiny Jones was in Verity.
Deputy Lambert stood nearby, watching the crowd, and Wyatt was certain his deputy was there out of a sense of duty. Wyatt continued studying the crowd, recognizing face after face, being only slightly surprised that Destiny had drawn such a gathering because she would draw attention wherever she went.
He looked at her as she answered a question. A breeze tugged long tendrils of her deep auburn hair. She looked like a movie star standing there in the sunshine while people asked her questions. She glanced his way. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, he felt as if she had reached out and touched him. Her gaze held his while she finished her answer. Then she turned to look at someone asking her a question.
His cell phone rang and he pulled it out to see he had a text from his brother Nick. “Dammit,” Wyatt said quietly, scanning Nick’s text.

Watching Destiny Jones in Verity on TV. Why didn’t you let us know? When can I meet her? How long will she be in Verity? The Wrenville murders?

As he read it he received another text, this one from his youngest brother, Tony, also wanting to know about Destiny. Wyatt shook his head and strode through the front door of city hall.
“Sheriff,” Dwight said, shaking his head, “Argus is dealing with two wrecked cars on the highway and he can’t tow the limo for several hours.”
“Okay. Val is across the street. Do you know if he found the driver?”
“He did. The man said he would move the limo when his boss told him to move it.”
Wyatt smiled and shook his head again. Was she doing this deliberately to get his attention? Beneath her smiles and charm was a strong will. He shook his head and went to his office to call Nick first on his private line.
“Nick, you have too many questions for a text. I didn’t know she was coming. Yes, I’ve met her. I don’t know about introducing you, but are you sure you want to meet her?”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Look at the crowd she’s drawn. If you didn’t know she was coming, then the town didn’t know,” Nick replied.
“I think that’s right.”
“She knows how to draw a crowd.”
“All she has to do is walk down the street.”
“Amen. You’ve got that right. Try to figure some way we can meet her. Tony’s already sent me a text. How come you’re not out there?”
“I’ve already met her, and my deputy is there.”
“So you’ve talked to her.”
“A little. I’ll get you the introduction, and I’ll call you about when and where.”
“Thanks, Wyatt. She said she’s staying at the Verity Hotel.”
“So she told everyone, including the press, where she’ll be. The lady does want attention. Don’t tell me you’re going to hang out in the lobby?”
Nick chuckled. “Hardly. No, I’ll meet her, but not that way. Thanks for calling.”
“I’ll keep in touch.”
Wyatt sent Tony a text. Three minutes later his phone rang.
“I’m watching Destiny Jones in Verity on TV.”
“I’m sure you are. I’ve talked to Nick and I promise I’ll introduce both of you sometime.”
“Cool. Don’t forget. Right now you’re missing her interview.”
“I’ll live. Talk to you soon, Tony.” Wyatt picked up an iPad from his desk and switched to the television cable to pick up her interview. He watched her deftly field questions, give answers that would bring laughter and generally captivate the audience. He gazed at her green eyes and auburn hair. It wouldn’t matter if she had mumbled and had nothing to say. She was gorgeous and charming and her audience was enchanted.
Wyatt’s jaw clamped shut a little more tightly as he listened to her talk about wanting to learn about Lavita Wrenville and how fascinating Verity’s history was, including the Milan-Calhoun feud. Each minute he watched her his hopes sank lower because at dinner he had hoped to discourage her from using the unsolved murders at the Wrenville house for a show. There would be no way, now that she’d spoken about it to the media, that she’d pack up and go back to Chicago.
He thought about her parking the red limo in his space. That had not been a casual, thoughtless event. She wanted the town’s attention and she had known exactly what she was doing then, just as she knew what she was doing now in talking to the crowd that was still growing. Shortly, he would have to go out there and break it up because they would be blocking traffic on Main if many more people came to watch her.
Even as he thought that and watched, she told the crowd farewell. A man stepped in front of her and a woman moved on one side of her. To Wyatt’s surprise Val moved beside her on the other side as a second woman fell in behind them. They crossed the street, the man in the lead clearing the way while a smaller crowd flowed with her. When they reached the red limo, the man leading the way held the door. She turned to smile and wave at the crowd, thanking them, throwing them a kiss and then vanishing into the limo, followed by the two women, the tinted windows hiding the interior. In seconds the limo slowly eased from the curb and the crowd dispersed.
He switched off the iPad and stood, rubbing the back of his neck.
He had mixed feelings about dinner with her, but his desire to spend the evening with her outweighed his dislike of having to deal with her about the Wrenville murders and the old family feud. Seven o’clock couldn’t come too soon.
Wyatt nodded. This might be a night to remember.
Two (#uab513573-dbcd-52a6-bb5e-b11637f87494)
Destiny and her staff entered the hotel and took the VIP elevator to the top floor where she had all four suites. In addition to hers, Virginia and Duke Boyden, her camera operator and her chauffeur, shared a suite, while Amy had her own suite next to Destiny’s.
Destiny entered her suite, followed by Amy Osgood, her cousin and assistant. Destiny barely glanced at a huge bouquet of pink-and-white lilies on the oval glass table in front of the sofa. Amy paused beside a large round platter holding cheeses, crackers and fruit. A stack of china plates and cutlery was on a tray next to the hors d’oeuvres. Amy picked up a card. “Compliments of the Verity Hotel,” she read.
“Take all that to your room. I really don’t want any of it.”
“Thanks, Destiny. I’ll take some. I have a smaller version in my room and the Boydens have one, also.”
“Y’all can share mine,” Destiny said as she tossed aside her large bag. She was remembering the moment in his office that Sheriff Wyatt Milan had entered. The most vivid, crystal-blue eyes she had ever seen had taken her breath away, holding her immobile, stopping her thoughts while they had stared at each other. She had seen pictures of him, but she wasn’t prepared for the man in person. No wonder Desirée had fallen for him. She had never understood what had gotten into her little sister to go to some tiny town in Texas and fall head over heels in love with the sheriff.
She had learned soon enough that she had been wrong in her views of the small Texas town. Verity’s residents had enormous wealth. She had been surprised when she had learned the sheriff himself was a billionaire rancher, a member of an old-time Texas family, a former professional football player and he held a law degree. But looking into his blue eyes today, feeling the force of his personality when he had simply entered the room, she realized why Desirée had been bowled over. The man was larger-than-life. One look and her opinions of Wyatt Milan had changed instantly.
Wavy brown hair above a face with rugged features, prominent cheekbones, a slight bump in his nose, maybe from a break, a stubborn jut to his chin. He wore a neat brown uniform with an unofficial hand-tooled leather belt around his narrow waist and boots on his feet. It wouldn’t have mattered what he wore; just standing quietly he had a commanding presence.
She spun around in a circle with her arms outstretched. “Congratulate me, Amy. Sheriff Milan is taking me to dinner tonight. Just what I want, but coming sooner than I expected.”
“Congratulations!” Amy said, glancing at her boss with a frown.
“Don’t look so worried.”
“You said he doesn’t want you here or want you using Verity for a show,” Amy said.
“Sheriff Milan will change his mind. You’ll see. Besides, I have the letter from the governor of Texas and a letter from Mayor Nash.”
“So when are you going to make it public that you have a tie to this town?” Amy asked.
“I told you—when I can get the most attention by doing so. Attention for the show. I’ll make my announcement when I’m taping. Until then it’s our little secret. Verity doesn’t make the news, so it’s never been picked up by the media that I have a connection here.”
“Sheriff Milan already isn’t happy with you. He’ll really dislike learning your mother is in a branch of the Calhoun family from here.”
Destiny smiled. “We’ll see when the time comes. Until then—bury it.”
“I will. It’s a shame the sheriff doesn’t want you here. I think the story of the murders should be interesting. People in the crowd today seemed to like you and want you here.”
“Verity is a small town and they keep to themselves. No one has ever made an issue about the house or publicized it. It’s just gone unnoticed. Lots of towns that have something like this capitalize on it and make it a tourist attraction or Halloween event and get attention, but not here. That makes it good for me to use in my book whether or not I find anything. I don’t really expect to solve the old murders. It’s been more than a hundred years since Lavita Wrenville’s demise.”
“You must have made an impression on Sheriff Milan since he asked you to dinner tonight.”
“He invited me to dinner to try to talk me out of staying here and doing a show about the Wrenville house. He doesn’t know that I’ve heard about the murders, the legend and the feud from Mimi,” she said, using the name she had called her grandmother since she had learned to talk
“Your grandmother seems to know a lot about this town even though she never lived here.”
“She lived in Dallas and had other Calhoun relatives here. She’s the one who interested me in the story of Lavita Wrenville and the triple murders.”
“It will shock people when you announce you’re a Calhoun,” Amy said and Destiny smiled. “It will add a little spice to the story of the Wrenville murders. I hope it doesn’t rock the sheriff too badly.”
Amy continued, “I heard a woman broke their engagement and Sheriff Milan hasn’t had a serious affair since. That might explain his actions with your sister. He’s about the only one who had an affair with her and didn’t propose.”
“So he’s had a broken heart? Interesting,” Destiny said, thinking about Wyatt. “I don’t think Desirée knew that, but she’s more interested in herself than the men she dates, so she doesn’t really learn a lot about them. Wyatt keeps himself all buttoned up. He likes women—and vice versa, I’m sure. Desirée probably did what every other single female in this town has done—fallen in love with him. Have you ever seen such blue eyes?”
“I haven’t met him yet. I think he stood across the street today when you talked to all the people.”
“Yes, he did. Did any of you find out why our billionaire rancher is also sheriff of Verity? Mimi knew nothing about that.”
“Actually, from what we’ve pieced together it’s because of the Wrenville house.”
Destiny stopped looking through her purse and raised her head. “How so?” She held up her hand. “Wait. I better get ready for tonight. He’s picking me up at seven. Come tell me while I decide what to wear.” She headed into the large bedroom. A huge bouquet of red anthurium and purple gladioli stood on a table. She glanced at the card. “Enjoy your stay. Verity Chamber of Commerce.”
Amy went on to explain what they’d learned. “All we could find out is that next year the Wrenville house reverts totally to the town and the town officials can do what they want with the house and property. The people wanted someone for sheriff they could trust when that happens and by general consensus, Wyatt Milan is a trustworthy and honest man, so they talked him into running for office.”
“And he’s probably not happy with someone—me—coming in and poking around before he has control,” Destiny added.
“Everyone seems to like him as sheriff.”
“Especially the ladies, I imagine. According to Desirée, men like him, too.” Destiny looked through her clothes. “About tonight, did you let some of the press know that I’m going out with Sheriff Milan?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Good. I’m going to shower. And I’ll make a call to Mimi and to Desirée.”
“If you don’t need anything else right now, I’ll go unpack some more of my things.”
“Thanks for doing mine earlier.”
“Sure,” Amy said over her shoulder as she left the suite.
Destiny showered, then pulled on undergarments and a robe and got her iPad to do FaceTime with her grandmother. She felt better if she could see the frail, aging woman. Destiny settled back to talk, waiting patiently because it took time for her grandmother to deal with FaceTime.
“Mimi, I’ve met Sheriff Milan,” she said after inquiring about her grandmother’s health and listening to her talk about her day.
“Did he take it well to discover you’re a Calhoun? Desirée never told him she was,” Mimi said. “Then again Desirée can barely remember her heritage and really doesn’t care.”
“I haven’t told him yet either. I’m waiting for the perfect moment. He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”
“He’s a Milan, Destiny. You can’t trust a Milan.”
“Mimi, I think I can trust this one. He got elected sheriff because everyone in Verity trusts him, even Calhouns. Besides, tonight is a business dinner. He wants to talk me out of putting Verity on my show.”
“Pay no attention,” her white-haired grandmother said, smiling. “He’s a Milan and they’re hardheaded and I still say he probably won’t give you straight answers.”
Destiny held back a laugh. Her grandmother never even lived in Verity and knew about the feud only from her parents and grandparents, yet she harbored strong feelings against the Milans. She was the one who had told Destiny of her Calhoun genealogy.
“I’ll let you know how it went,” Destiny said, moving to other subjects until finally, she told her grandmother she needed to go.
“Take care of yourself, Destiny. If the sheriff doesn’t want you there, maybe you should reconsider. Please be careful.”
“I’ll be careful. I love you, Mimi,” she said. “Call me anytime,” she added, wishing she could do more to make her grandmother comfortable, knowing her arthritis bothered her and she didn’t get enough sleep at night.
She thought about the tall, ruggedly appealing sheriff of Verity and her pulse quickened. This would be more interesting than she had anticipated. And more challenging. Most men she encountered were struck by her looks and eager to please her. Wyatt Milan was an exception, but she enjoyed a challenge.
Desirée had told Destiny if she wanted cooperation from the sheriff, she should flirt with him and resort to her female wiles to get what she wanted. He might be happy with some flirting, but Destiny didn’t think it would change his opinion one bit. It certainly hadn’t worked with her sister. He’d been one of the few men able to resist Desirée.
Desirée had gotten over Wyatt and he was all but forgotten within a month after she returned to California. She could forget men as easily as she fell in love with them. Now that Destiny knew Wyatt, she wondered why her sister had ever thought he would go with her back to California. She could, however, understand why Desirée had been attracted to him.
She crossed the room to look in the closet again to decide what she would wear, finally selecting a dress that she hoped would get Wyatt’s attention.
At five before seven she critically studied her image in the full-length mirror, trying to decide if she had achieved the look she wanted. The straight black dress hugged her curves from her waist down, and the top of the dress had a one-shoulder neckline in hot pink that matched her high-heeled sandals. Her hair was pinned up, with curly strands falling free around her face. Gold earrings dangled from her ears and along with the gold bracelets complemented her gold necklace with three diamonds centered in it.
Satisfied with her appearance, she picked up a small black purse just as the phone rang and she answered to hear Wyatt’s voice saying he was in the lobby.
Since she had told the media why she was in Verity, she expected to get attention all the time she was in town. When she stepped down into the lobby from the curving staircase from the mezzanine, she noticed two men with cameras aimed at her. In fact, every man in the lobby looked in her direction. Her pulse skipped a beat when she spotted Wyatt Milan. Dressed in a charcoal suit, black boots, a black wide-brimmed hat, he stood a few yards from the bottom step.
His gaze met hers, causing her heart to thud. Smiling at him, she walked down the stairs. She was aware of the cameras, but her gaze was on Wyatt, who looked back with the faintest hint of a smile.
At the bottom step he came forward. “Destiny,” he said, the simple pronunciation of her name sounding different from anyone else she had heard say it. She tingled from her head to her toes. She’d never had a physical reaction to a man as intense as with Wyatt. She had never expected to be so attracted to him. His electronic pictures had not conveyed his appeal.
He gave her a full smile, laugh lines creasing the corners of his mouth, and she actually felt weak in the knees as he linked her arm with his.
A man holding a camera stepped close. “Evening, Wyatt. Ms. Jones, I’m Carl Stanley with the Verity paper. Is Sheriff Milan taking you to the Wrenville house now?”
“I didn’t dress this way to go to the Wrenville house,” she said, laughing along with Carl and the others around her. “That will come a little later,” she answered, smiling at him.
“How did you hear about Verity and the Wrenville house? Was it from your sister when she visited?”
“I heard about it before that. Maybe Verity is more famous than people who live here realize,” she said while the reporter took notes.
“Do you hope to solve the mystery of the three murders in Lavita’s house?”
“That would be a fabulous result, but I don’t expect to get answers to questions that people have been asking for over a century. We’re just looking into the situation. Sometimes my show, Unsolved Mysteries, prompts people to come forward. We’ve had some solutions to puzzling cases since we started the series.”
“Are you going to interview local people for your show?”
“Carl, in due time you’ll see how the show unfolds. Thank you for your questions and your interest. Verity is one of the friendliest towns I’ve ever visited. We’ll talk again,” Destiny said, smiling as he raised his digital camera and got a close-up of her. Two more men moved closer and she smiled and posed while they took pictures.
Wyatt stepped forward. “Okay, guys, you have your pictures. We’ll be going now. Ms. Jones will be around to answer questions later this week.” He whisked her outside and into a black sports car. In long strides he circled the car and climbed inside to drive away.
“You handled that well,” she said.
“I believe you’re the one who handled it. You’re news right now and they’re interested, which you expected them to be, and I can’t blame them. This is a quiet town.”
She laughed softly. “Are they following us?”
“No, they won’t follow us. Sorry if you’re disappointed.”
“Why are you so certain they won’t follow?”
“They know me and they know I don’t want them trailing after me. They want my cooperation too often to cross me.”
“So what if someone does?” she persisted.
“We’ll see. It hasn’t ever happened.”
“I don’t think I’m the only one here who’s accustomed to getting his way.”
The corner of Wyatt’s mouth lifted slightly, but he didn’t glance her way or answer and they rode a few minutes in silence.
“Am I really the first outside person to show an interest in the Wrenville house?” Destiny asked. “That’s what someone told me.”
“As far as I know. I can’t really speak for before my time.” He checked his mirrors. “My deputy and I stayed out there once, just to see if anything happened or if vagrants were in there. Nothing happened and no one was staying there. The house is run-down, neglected. No one’s lived in it since the 1800s. It was well built to begin with or it would be falling in by now, but when something is abandoned, it doesn’t last.”
“So the house is ignored by one and all.”
“That sums it up. I think you’ll have a difficult time filling half an hour about the house or the people who died in it.”
“We’ll see. I hope you’ll consider a brief interview. Since you’re a Milan, I think it would be of interest.”
“Sorry, the answer’s still the same. No interview. So far, no occasion has ever arisen in Verity that warrants an interview from me, other than just answering brief questions for the news. And that’s the way I hope it remains. I wouldn’t be that interesting, anyway.”
“I differ on that topic. I’m not accustomed to getting turned down.”
Wyatt gave her a quick glance. “I’m sure that’s the truth. I imagine you’re accustomed to getting what you want from men.”
“Most of the time, I do. So far, you’re proving to be an exception, but I hope I can change your mind.”
He glanced over at her. “It all depends on what you want from me,” he said, a husky note coming into his voice that gave her the satisfaction of knowing he had some kind of reaction to her.
“Wyatt,” she said, “you haven’t discouraged me. I still hope to get an interview from you. I know it would be interesting.”
“You’d be surprised how dull I can get. Ask a local reporter. Their eyes glaze over sometimes, but it shortens interviews.”
She laughed softly again. “I don’t think you really do that—at least I would guess it is rare. I’m still going for an interview of my own.” She received another glance and this time his crystal-blue eyes darkened slightly and the look he gave her raised the temperature in the car.
“You go ahead and try,” he said in a deep voice that made her heart race.
“So that doesn’t scare you?” she asked.
“Hardly. It’ll be interesting to see you bargain for an interview,” he replied. He shook his head. “The evening has definitely taken a turn for the better.”
“We’ll see,” she replied.
Leaning back in the seat, she gave thought to the situation. Wyatt wasn’t reacting to her the way the majority of men did. She had grown up knowing that she was not the pretty daughter in her family. Desirée was breathtakingly beautiful and had been so all her life. Destiny had unruly red hair, was tall, but not stunning in her physical appearance, especially during her awkward teen years, but from an early age, she had learned to please and charm those around her to get what she wanted. With her relatives, she had poured out her love, being cooperative, obedient, helpful and turning on the sweetness when she needed to. During her later teens with boys her age, she had flirted, and it hadn’t taken much to melt them into hopeful males eager to please her.
It shocked her that, so far, Wyatt had resisted her smiles and easy requests.
She studied his profile, the firm jaw, prominent cheekbones, a slight bump near the bridge of his nose. He was not what she had expected and she was having a reaction to him that surprised and disturbed her.
“Do you have other places in Texas that you’ll visit?” he asked.
“Not at this time.”
As she watched him drive, he gave her a quick glance. “So how is Desirée?” he asked.
“She’s fine. She recently married.”
“I saw that she did. I hope she’s very happy.”
“I’ll tell her you said that.”
“Does she know you’re in Verity?”
“Yes, she does. From what I hear, you’re still single, which surprises me.”
“Now why would that surprise you?” he asked.
“You’re handsome, in your early thirties, appealing, influential and well-known. I’m sure every female in this county knows you. If we consider just the single ladies, I’d guess the ones in this county plus the next three or four counties know you. Texas women are beautiful. The elements are right for you to fall in love and marry.”
He smiled without taking his attention from the road. “You’d think, but it hasn’t happened.”
“So there’s no one you had to explain to about taking me to dinner tonight?”
“No, there isn’t. By the way, while you’re here, two of my brothers want to meet you. They saw you on TV today, and one of them has read your last book.”
“Well, I’m happy to discuss my book with anyone who is interested,” she replied. “So my book is why they want to meet me?”
“Not altogether,” Wyatt replied. “It’s part of the reason. I imagine every man in Verity would like to meet you. And maybe every male over fifteen in the next four or five counties,” he said.
“I take it your brothers are single.”
“One is widowed and the other is my single, youngest brother, so you’re right. Nick lost his pregnant wife. He’s still hurting pretty badly. It’s been a rough time for him and he’s not dating anyone.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, startled about the loss in Wyatt’s family. “I don’t think Desirée knew that.”
“There’s no reason for her to keep up with Nick, and that hadn’t happened when she was here.”
Destiny gazed out the window, taken aback once again by seeing a more serious side to Wyatt. Now that she was getting to know him a little, she wanted to be more up-front with him and thought about the right moment to reveal her genealogy. “Well, I, for one, have been curious about you. There aren’t many men who can upset my sister.”
“I’m sorry if I did, but I don’t think it was devastating since she was married within the year—I believe her first marriage. In the three years since we dated, isn’t this marriage number two? I don’t think she’s been pining away over me.”
“Perhaps not. It’s too bad. Now that I’ve met you, I imagine you would have had a settling influence on her. A sheriff, rock solid, mid-America, a Texan. How the two of you got together in the first place, I can’t imagine,” she added. “You don’t look the type to be knocked off your feet simply because she’s a movie star.”
“You have that much right,” he said, smiling again. “Look again at your sister. She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. You’re one of the most stunning. And she flirts outrageously, which I’m sure you already know.”
“Thank you. My sister is beautiful. She’s been beautiful from the day she was born.” After a moment of silence, Destiny turned to him. “You were rather laid-back today. Do you ever get upset, Sheriff?”
“Sure, when things get bad enough. Most of the time in Verity, there’s nothing bad enough.”
“So my reporting about the Wrenville house murders isn’t bad enough to get you riled up?”
“Not so far,” he said. “Maybe your quest is annoying, but not critical. We’ll see as time goes by.”
She saw that the buildings on Main Street had given way to houses. Heading east, they passed two blocks of wooden Victorian-style homes, some single story, some two or three stories with tall trees that had thick trunks in what looked like an old part of town.
“We have passed most of Verity’s restaurants. Where are we going?”
“To the airport. We’ll fly to Dallas to eat. You have no objection to that, do you?”
“Of course not,” she said. “So you’ll avoid the press for the rest of the night.”
“I sure hope so,” he replied, “and I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”
“If it did, I don’t think you’d turn around and go back,” she said, amused. “So the sheriff of Verity has his own plane. Interesting.”
“Actually, it’s mutually owned by me and my siblings. We all have ranches and want to be able to come and go, so we bought two planes and hired pilots and the necessary employees. I have my own pilot’s license, as do my brothers Nick and Tony. It’s worked out great.”
“Nice, if you can afford it.” She looked out at the passing scenery. “I recall we came into town this way so we should be passing the Wrenville house. There it is,” she said, looking at a wooden three-story home surrounded by a three-foot wrought-iron fence and a front gate hanging on one hinge. She noticed several of the windows had been broken out.
“Just an old, empty house that the town will own shortly,” Wyatt said. “Nothing exciting there. And there can’t be any clues in it about the three men who died there.”
“You don’t discourage me. It’s more interesting than that.” Destiny said, taking in the weeds and high grass that filled the yard while the two tall oaks by the house were overgrown with vines. “No, I’m excited, filled with curiosity. Sometimes it’s surprising what my show stirs up. Maybe someone will come forth with information that has been passed down through the generations. A Milan and a Calhoun both in love with the same woman and both shot dead over her, along with her father—that’s an interesting unsolved mystery. You have to admit it.”
“Interesting to an outsider, I suppose, but we don’t need the old feud stirred up. As generations pass it has weakened and with my generation, I think the feud is dying. I want it to die. We’re a quiet little town. I don’t want to see that disturbed needlessly.”
“A quiet little town with a high percentage of millionaires,” she said. She realized she had never known anyone as protective of his hometown and his family and she had to respect Wyatt for that.
“West Texas is good cattle and oil country, plus a few other businesses that have done well here,” he replied.
In minutes he turned along a narrow asphalt road and shortly she saw two hangars and a control tower ahead. A jet was outside and she assumed it would be the plane they would take to Dallas.
Wyatt picked up his phone to talk to his pilot, letting him know they were almost there, and she tingled with anticipation, looking forward to an evening with Wyatt Milan. She wondered what he would think when he learned she was a Calhoun. He acted as if he thought the old feud should die, but she barely knew him. When it involved him personally, would he still think the feud should end? Mimi had painted such a dark picture of the Milans as dishonest, crafty and manipulative that Destiny had expected a man far different from the Milan she was getting to know tonight. None of those descriptions fit Wyatt. Far from it. Honest, straightforward, hoping for good—he embodied admirable qualities. She loved Mimi and they were close, but her grandmother was wrong about this Milan.
Her gaze lowered to his mouth. Strong, firm, his lips made her wonder if he would kiss her tonight. The chemistry between them was exciting. She felt it, and she was certain he did, too. Could she kiss him into agreeing to an interview?
Three (#uab513573-dbcd-52a6-bb5e-b11637f87494)
As they reached the plane, Wyatt stopped near a brown-haired man with touches of gray in his hair. He smiled at Destiny.
“Destiny, meet our pilot, Jason Whittaker. Jason, this is Ms. Jones from Chicago.”
“It’s Destiny,” she said, offering her hand. “I’m happy to meet you and looking forward to the flight.”
“Unsolved Mysteries,” Jason said and Destiny’s smile broadened. Wyatt watched her step forward and charm his pilot who could not take his gaze from her. Wyatt could understand. She’d stolen his breath when she had appeared at the top of the stairs at the hotel. The woman knew how to make a grand entrance. Every man in the hotel lobby had been watching her and Wyatt had heard an audible sigh from several who were standing near him when she appeared. She wasn’t the delicate, perfect beauty her sister was. Instead, she was hot, sexual, lush, with a voluptuous body, a come-hither look and unruly red hair that looked as if she had just left a romp in bed. How was he going to keep denying her an interview or discouraging her from the Wrenville house? She left him tongue-tied, on fire, unable to think clearly, torn between wanting to seduce her and hoping she would pack up and go. Never had a woman rocked him like this one.
“We have good weather,” the pilot remarked, pulling Wyatt from his reverie.
“Let’s get going,” Wyatt said, taking her arm and boarding the plane. The moment he touched her, the casual contact electrified him. Her perfume deepened his awareness of her at his side. He motioned to a seat and as she sat near a window and buckled herself in, he sat facing her.
She looked out the window and the plane began to taxi away from the hangar. When they were airborne and headed southeast, she turned to Wyatt.
“So tell me the history of the Lavita Wrenville house.”
“In the early days Verity was a hub for cattle ranchers. The Wrenville family was successful and built their big home. Lavita’s father still had eastern interests and was partners with his brother in a large bank in Boston. At one time, according to legend or family history, the Wrenvilles were enormously wealthy—in a time and place where there were an unusually high number of wealthy families.”
“The Milans and the Calhouns included, right?”
“Yes. According to local history, the Milans made a fortune with cattle and ranching. I guess that’s where I get my love of ranching. So did the Calhouns. From the earliest days, I think the Calhouns and Milans clashed over land, cattle, water, running the town, all sorts of reasons, including the women they loved, so the feud started.”
“I think I’m getting the short version of Milan and Wrenville history.”
“You’re getting the only version I have,” he remarked.
“Sorry, I interrupted you. Go ahead.”
“As local history goes, the Wrenvilles gradually amassed more money than anyone else in town. Hubert Wrenville had cattle, land, the big bank, the feed store, the biggest saloon.”
“Was this Lavita’s father?”
“Yes. Finally, there was only Lavita Wrenville who lived alone in the house. She was an eccentric old maid who did not want anyone to inherit or buy the house. Lavita deeded the property, house, stable, outbuildings and all personal property in those buildings to Verity with the stipulation that the property is not to be sold or changed until next year. At that time the Wrenville property and everything on it will revert totally to Verity to do with as it pleases. I imagine the town will sell the property if they can. That’s what is in Lavita’s official will and she was the last surviving Wrenville.”
“Ah, I see. So what about information regarding the murders or a fortune she amassed and hid somewhere in the house?”
“I think that’s just rumors, legend, wishful thinking of people way back and handed down through generations. There’s nothing in the will about either one.”
“Interesting,” she said. “Maybe I’ll do a show on Lavita Wrenville and the unsolved killings and then come back next year.”
“You might consider just coming then. I don’t think you’ll find much of interest now. I’ve just told you everything about it. I don’t think there’s a fortune or a letter that revealed what happened.”
“Suppose I search and find a fortune and a letter revealing what happened the night of the murders?”
“You wouldn’t be the first to search. But there’s nothing in her will about a fortune or a letter. That’s legend.”
“You really don’t want me here, do you?” she asked, smiling slightly.
He leaned close, looking into her big green eyes that widened. “Oh, yes, I want you here. I have plans for tonight. From the moment I walked into my office and saw you, I’ve wanted you here,” he said in a husky tone that was barely above a whisper.
She leaned in a fraction, so close they were almost touching, and he fought the urge to close the distance and kiss her. “Then we should have an interesting evening because I’ve been looking forward to tonight since we parted this afternoon,” she whispered. Her words were slow, sultry, increasing the sexual tension between them. As they gazed at each other, again he was hot, tied in knots with desire, yet at the same time aware of the clash of wills between them.
She smiled and sat back. “This should be an interesting evening.”
“I’ll admit, you’re not like other women I’ve known.”
“That’s a relief,” she said and he gave her a faint smile.
“Tell me about the murders. All I know is that Lavita’s father, a Milan and a Calhoun all were shot to death.”
Wyatt settled back, inhaled deeply and tried to get his wits about him. “All I’ve ever heard is that Lavita had two men in love with her—unfortunately, a Milan and a Calhoun. The feud had been in existence through at least two generations by then, so it was going strong and the two men did not speak to each other. The night of the shootings, they both called on her at the same time and neither would leave. She was upset. The men were angry and according to the old story, they were going to fight and pistols were drawn. Her father heard the argument, appeared and mixed in the struggle. Terrified what would happen, Lavita ran to get their stable keeper. As she rushed back to the house, shots were fired. According to the story, all three men were armed and had fired at each other, killing each other.”
“So far, that’s what I’ve been told.”
“Some stories say that, on her deathbed, Lavita admitted that one of the men was still alive and conscious when she returned to the house and told Lavita what happened before he died. At the time of the murders, she had stated they were all dead by the time she got back.”
“Couldn’t the stable keeper verify her story?”
Wyatt smiled. “Remember, this was the late 1800s and the story has been passed down by word of mouth since. According to the story, the stable keeper went to get his pistol and was far enough behind Lavita that all three men were dead when he arrived at the scene. The three men died that night, presumably shortly after the shooting. And Lavita never revealed anyone talked to her until she was on her deathbed. Until then, she claimed she didn’t know what had happened after she ran out of the house to get help.”
“If that’s the true story about what happened, it makes one wonder what she was told and why she hid it from the world. Nowadays, withholding information would put her behind bars.”
“Early-day justice may have been dispensed differently and hers was an influential family. If the legend is true, she may not have wanted the true story to come out because of the feud. The Calhouns and the Milans had a history of getting revenge.”
“This story holds possibilities for an interesting chapter in my next book.”
Wyatt wanted to groan. He had hoped to discourage her with the story, which he found vague and probably hearsay. “It all comes down to trying to find an old letter Lavita wrote that reveals the truth about that night.”
Destiny shifted in her seat, drawing his attention to her dress. The unique design left one shoulder bare. The other shoulder was covered by a short sleeve that had four buttons running down a center seam in the sleeve, so if unbuttoned, the front half of her dress would no longer be attached to the back half above the waist. The thought consumed him, distracting him from his story. He had to figuratively shake himself to get back on track.
“The letter has been rumored to be in the house,” he continued. “I’ve never heard a version that included the grounds as a possibility,” he added.
“Think there will be a bidding war on the property?”
“I don’t. You never know what might appeal to a developer, but that property is in the industrial part of Verity, small as that is. In my view, it’s far out for a likely shopping area. The town grew in all other directions. The house overlooks the cemetery on one side. The river runs behind it. Nearby is the airport and to the front is the highway. Not the greatest location. No one wanted the house and it was left to crumble.” He sat back and crossed his leg over the other at the knee.
“Now that you know about it—and there is little to tell you—I hope you’ll rethink using it on your show. The killings were long, long ago and of little interest,” he said, watching her closely.
“I simply think you’re trying to get rid of me,” she replied sweetly, her green eyes sparkling. “The deaths of the three men are an interesting puzzle, plus the feud between two of them, two families who have many descendants today, you included.”
“I suppose only the ratings will indicate which of us is right. There are far more intriguing unsolved mysteries in Texas. Come by the office and you can look at a list. It would be nice for all the residents if you would move on down the road.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I have a quiet, peaceful, pleasant town. The biggest problems this past year have been getting the Dixons’ cat out of their chimney and getting Doc Lamon’s dock back after it collapsed in a storm and floated downriver.”
“When I talked to the group that gathered today, they were curious, interested and very friendly.”
“They were curious, interested and friendly because you’re a stunning, sexy woman. They were curious about you, not the old Wrenville place.”
“Thank you. But I didn’t get the feeling from any of them that someone would prefer that I didn’t put Lavita Wrenville’s story on my show. Did it occur to you that you might be wrong?”
“I know my town pretty well. I don’t think I’m wrong,” he said, knowing their quiet clash grew stronger and neither changed the other’s opinion. “Today was a bunch of men who wanted to see you and talk to you. Wait until the women are involved and you’re in Chicago and the results of your visit are right here in Verity for the locals to deal with. They won’t be so happy or so cooperative, especially if you stir up that Milan-Calhoun feud.”
“Have you always been right?”
“No, but I’m right often enough that I trust my own judgment.”
She laughed and in spite of their steady battle, her stubborn refusal to leave Verity, her flagrant disregard for law in Verity, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and make love to her.
“It doesn’t bother you that you’re going to upset a whole town?”
“Of course it would bother me if I thought that would happen.” She gave him an assessing look out of the corner of her eye. “It must be wonderful to feel you’re always right.”
He stifled a laugh and a retort
“Come by the office and look at that list of other unsolved Texas murders,” he said, eliciting a smile from her. It seemed they had once again agreed to disagree.
Needing a break from his tenacious but beautiful opponent, he picked up the phone to confer with Jason on the arrival time. When he got his answer, he should have simply turned to look out the window but his eyes lit on Destiny instead. “No wedding ring,” he observed. “So you’re single.”
“Definitely. There’s no special man in my life at the moment.”
“I’m glad to hear that since I’m taking you out.”
“This wouldn’t count anyway. You’re taking me out to tell me about Lavita Wrenville and the unsolved murders. This is a business evening.”
He leaned close again, placing his hands on the arms of her seat to hem her in while they gazed into each other’s eyes. “There is no way this evening will be a business trip. The closest we’ll come is the conversation we just had, and now I’ve finished giving you the Wrenville history. I’ve been looking forward to tonight all afternoon long.”
“You want me to pack and return to Chicago and then you tell me you’ve been wanting to go out with me. That’s contradictory,” she said.
“My feelings are contradictory. You’re a complication in my quiet life,” he said, gazing into her big, green eyes that threatened to make him tell her to do whatever she wanted in Verity.
“A few complications in life sometimes make it more interesting. You’ll be able to handle this one, I’m sure.”
“I can’t wait,” he said, his heart drumming. He knew she wasn’t going to leave quietly and she would be a constant challenge to him. The most enticing challenge he had ever had in his life.
* * *
As Destiny walked to a waiting limo, Wyatt took her arm and in minutes they were headed into downtown Dallas. Wyatt sat across from her, looking totally relaxed, his booted foot resting on his other knee, his hand on the arm of the seat. In spite of all appearances of a relaxed man who cared nothing about the outcome of their discussion, she could feel an undercurrent between them. A clash of wills.
There were moments he flirted and set her heart racing. Other times, like now, he seemed remote. She couldn’t gauge her effect on him and it disturbed her because she was accustomed to red-blooded thirtysomething males succumbing to her charms or trying to charm her. Especially when she had flirted with them.
“Do you own the red limo?” he asked.
“No, I leased it for this trip. We flew to Dallas and picked it up there.”
“You always travel with this staff?”
She shook her head. “No. My assistant, Amy, works for me full-time since the success of my first book. Virginia Boyden, a camera operator—she’s a field operator who works for the show and her husband, Duke Boyden, is my chauffeur, whom I’ve known forever. He worked for my mom, so he’s like a relative. He drives for others, too. I hire him when I need him. I don’t travel like this as much for the show as for background for my next book.”
“Busy person, accustomed to getting what you want.”
“I think that description fits you best. You’re the oldest of your siblings, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yes, just the same as you are.”
“So tell me about your life, Sheriff Milan. Why are you sheriff? You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”
“My family has an old tradition. All the Milan males go into law—enforcing the law, practicing law, creating laws. For the most part in our family all Milan males get a law degree and practice law, which I did for three years, but, like my brother Tony, I’m a rancher at heart, so since I can afford to do what I want, ranching is what I’ve done most of the time. People in town wanted me to run for sheriff in the last election and I let them talk me into it.”
“So I heard. According to gossip, people trust you and they think you’re an honest man. When the Wrenville house reverts fully to the town of Verity and a fortune is found hidden away in the house, you’re the man people will trust. That’s a high recommendation about you.”
“I was honored and it was something I could do to contribute to my town,” he said.
She believed him. In spite of their clash, she was not only physically attracted to him, but she was also beginning to like him. She could see why people in town liked him.
“So what do all your brothers do?”
“Nick is a state representative. His background is the law firm of Milan, Thornridge and Appleton. Tony has a law degree, went to work for the firm for a year and then quit to be a rancher, his first love. We all love our ranches. My sister, Madison, is an artist and a newlywed.”
“Madison Milan Calhoun—a very successful and very talented artist. I stopped in her gallery here. Am I allowed to write about this family tradition of male Milans going into law?”
“If you want.”
“It’ll add to my story about the Milans.”
“Frankly, I hope you decide to not have any story about the Milans, the Calhouns or Verity,” he said. “We’re really a small, quiet town. Or we were until today.”
She just smiled at him.
* * *
The limo parked in front of the entrance to the three-story, Tudor-style country club in Dallas. Soft music played and a fountain splashed as they walked inside. Destiny was conscious of being close at Wyatt’s side, even more aware of him following her across the restaurant, her back tingling because she was certain his gaze was on her. After they entered a small private room, the waiter took orders for their drinks and left.
As soon as they were alone, she smiled across the linen-covered table at Wyatt. “A private room with music from the large dining room, flowers, candlelight—you’ve taken care of everything.”

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