muttered, “Better a jail cell than a coffin.”
Her hands twisted the rough blanket. The material grew warm beneath her palms. Her lips formed a wry smile. Thank You, Lord, for giving me such a safe place to sleep tonight.
She looked at the sheriff. From a distance, his big, male body wasn’t nearly as intimidating while hunched in front of his computer screen, his large fingers stabbing at the keys.
The set of his square jaw revealed his concentration and she doubted he realized his dark, wavy hair still glistened with rainwater. His soaked brown uniform emphasized his wide shoulders and broad chest. She could appreciate his masculine appeal with him across the room, but with him up close she’d found herself struggling to breathe evenly.
Abruptly, she shook off the notion of attraction and attributed the thudding of her heart to fear. A tight knot formed in her stomach. Soon, he would learn the complete story of Paul’s death and the police’s interest in her.
The sheriff had been too perceptive by half, his dark, intense eyes assessing her like an oddity. His questions and offer of help spoken in that much-too-pleasing accent had nearly unhinged her, making her want to open up, to tell him what haunted her nightmares. But Paul’s final words echoed inside her head.
Trust…no one.
During the last several weeks, Kate’s natural inclination to look for the good had dimmed until she was afraid even to allow herself to trust a man who should be trustworthy. But the police in Los Angeles had made her very aware that trust had to be earned.
The only person she remotely trusted now was Gordon Thomas, her lawyer. The kindly older gentleman had entered her life when her mother had hired him to deal with her divorce. Over the years he’d stayed a part of their lives, becoming a surrogate uncle for Kate, always willing to listen when she couldn’t deal with her mother. Kate was grateful he’d taken an interest. Gordon had guided Kate in her college and career choices. She hated to think what path she’d have followed without his tutorship.
But this situation demanded she act on her own. She couldn’t ever have the peace and security she craved if she didn’t pursue the truth.
Her gaze wandered back to the sheriff. His dark hair fell across his forehead as he shifted in his seat, obstructing her view of his eyes, though she could see the angry red marks running down the side of his cheek left by her nails. She hoped he wouldn’t scar, although she doubted even the puckering of wounded flesh could decrease the handsomeness of his ruggedly sculpted face.
Overhead, the lights dimmed and then blinked off and on. The sheriff lifted his head and their gazes locked. For a moment they stared at each other and a shaft of embarrassment darted up Kate’s spine to settle in her cheeks. She was staring. She turned sharply away from his hooded, watchful eyes.
“Oh, man.”
The sheriff’s disgruntled voice brought her head back around.
“What’s up?” Warren asked, his wiry form unfolding from his desk chair.
“Computer’s down.” The sheriff straightened and rolled his massive shoulders.
“You look done in. Why don’t you head home? I’ll stay here with the prisoner.”
Kate stiffened at the deputy’s words. Staring hard at the sheriff, she held her breath, waiting for his reply. Don’t go. Lord, please don’t let him leave.
Sheriff McClain leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. His lids dropped, hiding the darkness of his eyes. After a heartbeat he replied, “No, I’ll stay. But there’s no sense in us both being here. You go on home to your pretty wife.”
The deputy slanted Kate one last curious look, shrugged and picked up his jacket from the back of his chair. “Suit yourself. See you in the morning.”
Kate breathed a sigh of relief as the deputy disappeared through the station door. While probably capable, the deputy just didn’t seem as made for the task of protecting her as the sheriff did.
Her attention shifted back to Sheriff McClain. Didn’t he have a wife to go home to? A wife waiting, worrying and wondering if he’d return or would this be the day he died for his dedication to his job? What type of woman would claim the love of a man with a dangerous occupation?
A woman like her own mother.
A woman unlike herself.
She squashed her curiosity. The sheriff’s private life was none of her business. If he left his wife alone and lonely while he gave his job the attention his wife craved, what was that to her? Right now Kate needed him to do his job. She was thankful he’d stayed, but she wasn’t going to dwell on the sheriff or why his presence was comforting.
Instead, she lay down on the cot and pulled the blanket to her chin. She doubted sleep would come, but closing her eyes and pretending sure beat staring at the too-handsome man who’d arrested her.
The storm’s wrath didn’t seem to penetrate the station walls and the room fell silent. Feeling relatively safe for the time being, Kate tried to relax. Unaccountably, she felt the sheriff would keep her from harm. God had put her in his care. She’d face her worries again with the new day.
Her body grew heavy and her lids felt weighted down as sleep settled in. Faintly, she heard a rustling of noise. The sheriff finally moving from his reclined position. His quiet footfalls echoed inside her head, but she was too groggy to open her eyes to see what he was doing.
Even when she heard the quiet click, then the slight squeak of the cell door opening, she couldn’t muster up enough panic to rouse her from slumber.
She felt the added weight of another blanket being laid across her. With a sigh, she snuggled beneath the cocoon of rough material and drifted completely to sleep.
Brody stared at the sleeping woman.
Katherine Wheeler. No, he much preferred the informal Kate that she’d referred to herself as.
Why did he care if she grew cold? It shouldn’t matter. But it did.
There was something compelling about her, something that pulled at him. Maybe it was the vulnerability he saw in her large, springtime eyes or the fact that she’d felt safe enough to allow herself to rest. Whatever the case, it had to stop. He couldn’t allow himself to be drawn in by her.
Until Kate’s story checked out, he had to think of her as a criminal. He half hoped she did own the house; he’d hate to see her end up in Walpole. Massachusetts Criminal Institute Cedar Junction was no place for such a pretty woman.
But then again, if what she said was true…what if she decided to become a resident of Havensport? Brody had an uneasy feeling that having her in the same town for any length of time would be hazardous to his carefully tended solitude.
Ha! As if you’d ever let a woman get close to you again, reprimanded his inner voice. As if this woman, who drips with class, would ever want to get close to you.
Brody drew back from the sleeping woman on the cot. He rubbed the spot on his hip where he bore the constant reminder of what trusting a woman could do. Old anger and helpless rage roared to life and Brody let out a compressed breath. He spun away and stalked back to his desk to stare at the blank computer screen.
The quicker he cleared up the mess with his guest, the better. Then his nice quiet life could resume the way he wanted it.
Alone.
THREE
Sunshine streamed through the barred window of the jail cell, spilling slanted lines of light across the cement floor and onto the cot where Kate lay. The warmth of the golden rays touched her cheek, and roused her from sleep.
Turning her head fully into the light, Kate frowned at the faint scent that clung to the air. She couldn’t place it, but she knew it. A masculine fragrance, which stirred up images of a hard body pressed against her,