The Sheriff and the Innocent Housekeeper Read online

  Jake watched the girl in front of him. For the last year, the transformation from girl to woman had disturbed him. Small of stature, and delicate in appearance, the metamorphosis she had undergone was subtle. Always pretty, with silky blonde hair, her features had refined, her cheekbones becoming more prominent. Her face had an added maturity, and the white material of her apron couldn't hide the soft curves of her hips and breasts from him.

  Three years before, when Beth Calloway had told him about her niece's plight, he had been empathetic. He'd always admired Mrs. Calloway, a childless, middle-aged widow trying to carve out a life in this harsh Texas town. When her niece was orphaned in Boston, she had opened her home to the fourteen-year-old girl, even though she couldn't afford to. Having had advanced schooling back East, the girl was already well educated, and her aunt couldn't afford any more schooling for her. But at fourteen, she was too young for a conventional job. By letting her do his cooking and cleaning, he had helped them all he could.

  For the first two years, he mostly ignored her. She was always quiet, and left soon after he got home. There were a few times, even when she was only fourteen, he had gotten a whiff of her feminine scent. He would harden, immediately feel lower than a snake, and know he needed to visit the girls at the saloon.

  But the last year had been hell. Unmitigated hell. He couldn't ignore her anymore. He knew every curve of her by sight. Her scent was ingrained in his brain and her face was a memory he could conjure at any time, day or night.

  The situation was different now that she was almost grown-up. His body was rebelling against his brain. Having her in his house, day after day, without any physical relief was beginning to take a toll on him. He couldn't trust himself around her. She was too beautiful, too innocent. Too goddamn sweet.

  It was becoming worse than bad. Always before when he would see her and become aroused, the girls at the saloon could relieve the stress. Not so anymore. Two seconds after crawling off one of them, he wanted Becky again. It was a need that wasn't going away, and wouldn't until he didn't have to see her every day. Didn't have to breathe in her scent, didn't have to see her soft curves moving around his house.

  Becky clutched the plate to her mid-section, standing as still as a rabbit caught in a predators sight, when she saw the way he stood at the door, watching her.

  Her hands began the all too familiar shaking, and she heard a roaring sound in her ears and a crashing, splintering noise at her feet. She looked down at the broken plate and in her confusion quickly bent down to retrieve it. A sharp pain in her hand jerked her upright again.

  The spell was broken when his deep voice intruded on her consciousness. "Goddammit!"

  Becky stood immobile as he pushed off the door and was quickly upon her. He picked up her hand in his. "Becky, what the hell?"

  She looked down at his hands holding hers and saw a stream of blood running from a cut on her finger. She realized she had compounded her mistake by cutting her finger. The plate was in shards on the floor. She knew those plates had belonged to his mother. Tears welled in her eyes.

  "I'm sorry, Sheriff."

  He pulled her to the kitchen and his large body crowded her against the counter as he held her hand where it was bleeding. His arms wrapped around her from behind, his chest pressed into her back as he held her bleeding finger in the pail of cold water. The water turned pink as she tried not to faint.

  His mouth moved to her ear. "You're more trouble than you're worth." He growled the words in her ear. His warm breath caressed her face.

  "I'm sorry about your m-mother's china." Her voice wobbled from the impact of his nearness.

  He reached around and tugged her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "You know this isn't about the goddamn china, don't you?" His eyes moved from hers, down to her lips.

  She jerked in his arms and didn't answer.

  "Be still now and let me help you." His hands tightened on her and his scent enveloped her senses.

  Becky almost passed out. She had never been this close to him before. She gasped for air and her muscles tensed as he cleaned her finger and looked at the small cut there. Her body was shaking so hard she would have fallen if not for the counter in front of her and his body behind her. She had dreamt of his arms around her and wished now that he would hold her because he wanted to and not because she had hurt herself. She had wanted it forever.

  No, she could never marry Kyle Bolton. Not when she felt this way about Jake Cooper.

  He reached for a cloth and took her hand from the water. Becky stood in his grasp as he applied pressure to the small cut. They stayed like that for a long moment, only the sound of their breathing breaking the silence. He released her finger from his grasp and slid his hands to her shoulders. His grip was possessive, his hold strong. "Go home, Becky."

  She didn't want to go home. She turned in his arms until she was facing him. Her eyes were level with his chest. She looked up through her eyelashes. "I h-have to clean up this mess." Her voice was soft and hesitant, the feelings he evoked making her heart pound.

  "I'll do it. You get home now." The order was deep, irrefutable. He pinched her chin with his finger and thumb. "You go straight home. You hear me?" His fingers caressed her soft flesh.

  She nodded her head.

  "I mean it. Straight home." His hand moved to her cheek, and he twined his fingers in her hair. He studied her face, and his features became shuttered.

  Finally he pushed her away from him, letting go of her completely.

  When she reached the door, she turned back to look at him. His eyes were fixed on her, and his hands were in fists, the knuckles turning white where he gripped them so hard.

  ****

  Becky tossed and turned that night. Captivating dreams of the Sheriff holding her and kissing her infiltrated her subconscious. Then the dream would change and Becky would be in Kyle Bolton's house, bars on the windows and beautiful old blue and white china broken at her feet. Powerlessness closed over her making breathing difficult, suffocating her until she woke from the nightmare that gripped her.

  Becky got out of bed and walked over to the window where the moonlight streamed in through the lace curtains. She had never wanted anything as much in her life as she wanted to marry Jake Cooper. Would he ever see her as anything other than his housekeeper? As a girl too young to touch?

  ****

  The next morning, much to Becky's aggravation, it happened again. This time, she was rounding the corner just past the bank when Kyle stepped out of nowhere and ran smack dab into her. Irritation and impatience poured from her. This time, his hands grasped hers.

  "Becky, will you have lunch with me today? The hotel restaurant is serving prime rib. You'll love it."

  Not wanting to make a scene or embarrass him, she gritted her teeth. "No thank you, Kyle." But not wanting to sugar-coat it either, she didn't even try to fob him off with a tale of being too busy or going with him another day, perhaps.

  "Aww, come on. You have to stop and eat."

  "I will stop and eat. I'll have a sandwich for lunch, just as I do most days."

  "Not today. Today we're having lunch at the restaurant." His grip became firmer.

  Becky had had enough. "Release me."

  "But-- "

  "Now. This instant." Her voice was strained and harsh and he got the message because his hands came up in front of him to show her he meant no harm.

  "Okay, I let you go. But I think I'll claim a kiss for--"

  Becky screeched and stepped back from him. "Don't you dare try to kiss me again, Kyle Bolton! You need to find some other girl to try to woo. I have been as nice to you as I can but--"

  Becky's words came to a halt when she saw the tall, dark figure stroll up beside Kyle.

  Jake Cooper was blatantly male and his hair was dark, almost black today. He stood at least a couple of inches over six feet tall and had the widest shoulders she had ever seen. His gunbelt hung low around his hips, his jeans were faded and molded lovingl
y to his thighs. He wore scuffed and dusty boots, and they added even more to his height. He had an intrinsically dominant nature, something she had only noticed in the last few months.

  Had he heard what they were talking about? She thought not, because he seemed uninterested, bored even.

  He stood back, saying nothing, until Kyle noticed him standing there. "Good day, Sheriff."

  "Bolton. How are you?" Becky couldn't help but compare how much deeper the sheriff's voice was to Kyle's. It had been that way in her dreams the night before, also.

  "Very well, thank you for asking. I was just trying to entice Miss Hamilton to partake in an early lunch with me at the restaurant."

  Jake's eyes narrowed on Kyle, then turned to Becky. A thrill ran through her when she saw the scowl appear between his eyebrows.

  Jake turned back to Kyle. His words were casual, his stance anything but. "I'm afraid Becky won't be able to have lunch with you today, Bolton. She's going to be tied up running errands for me." After delivering this, he turned back to Becky.

  His eyes met hers and he beckoned her to follow him with an arrogant movement of his head. "Let's go." He turned and strode off, never once looking to see if she was behind him.

  She was at once both exhilarated and insulted by his high-handedness. No matter. She left Kyle standing on the boardwalk as she followed a few paces behind the sheriff.

  When he opened the door to his office three doors down, he stood back and held it open for her, fully expecting her to be behind him.

  She was. She walked in and took a quick look around. No one was there, the deputies were out on duty, and the jail cells sat empty.

  She had been in his office many times, mostly to deliver food when he couldn't get home to eat. Now, she continued into the middle of the room and turned to face him, a question in her eyes.

  Jake had been momentarily stunned when he came across the young Bolton boy trying to win Becky's favor. It never occurred to him that other men were beginning to view Becky as anything other than a young girl, but evidently, the Bolton kid was close enough to her age to see she was growing up.

  When his mind cleared, his body had been seized with a need for immediate violence against the boy that dared to step too close to what he saw as his personal property. Against his will, he felt the slight veneer of civilization he always kept in place begin to slip. Ruthlessly, he had to pull it back and maintain a façade of professional integrity. After all, the boy wasn't breaking any laws, and Jake didn't want to intimidate him needlessly.

  But letting Becky go off with the boy was not an option. He put up the only roadblock he could come up with on the spur of the moment. And now he had Becky in his office, waiting for him to list his requirements when there were none.

  Becky waited patiently, the memory of the Sheriff's face when he realized that Kyle was trying to court her going a long way in soothing her irritation with his arrogant manner of a few moments ago.

  They watched each other across the room, Becky standing still and straight, Jake in a seemingly relaxed position, blocking the door with his large body.

  Becky was the first to break the silence. "What would you like me to do for you, Sheriff?"

  The innocence of the innuendo struck Jake straight in the groin. He felt himself harden as the remark took on a different meaning in his mind. She was too young and naïve to realize the connotation of what she had said, but Jake felt it hit him like a bolt of lightning.

  To distract her from the lack of errands he actually needed done, and to cover up the lust raging inside, he softly questioned her, "How's that cut doing, Becky-girl?"

  Becky felt the same tingle run through her that she did every time he called her Becky-girl. Somehow, it always sounded a little bit intimate, a little bit possessive on his part. Suddenly, she was lost in his eyes as the daydream of what it would be like to be married to him cascaded through her. It was the same dream she had about him often; the same dream that now had her breath hitching in her lungs.

  Jake watched the flush that started at the base of her throat, where that one single button was undone, travel up her neck and through her cheeks. Her eyes became glassy, and try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from taking the few steps toward her that suddenly seemed necessary for life itself.

  Becky broke from her reverie as Jake prowled toward her. Her heartbeat accelerated as he lifted his hand and threaded his large palm around her cheekbone, sinking his hand into her hair.

  He lifted her face to his and his eyes glittered down into hers with an intensity that struck Becky as all-consuming. He didn't speak, only stared down at her, while his hand in her hair tied her to him.

  The total absorption was too much for her, and she whispered, "There's n-noth--nothing, is there? N-nothing special that needs doing today."

  Jake's grasp on her face became punishing. He was lowering his head to hers when the outside door opened and Deputy Tyler Jones strode into the office.

  Jake knew who had walked in even with his back toward the door. His large body blocked Becky entirely. His desire to kiss her remained, but his hand lifted from her face as he fought to restrain the temptation to continue touching her in front of his deputy.

  Jake's scowl became menacing when he was denied the kiss Becky knew had been coming. Liquid heat poured through her body from the abbreviated encounter, and from the struggle for control she could see on his face.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was a soft growl and meant for her ears only. "You work for me. Only me. There's always something that you need to be doing for me. Today it's the cooking and cleaning."

  "Everyday it's the cooking and cleaning. That's no reason--"

  "That's all the reason you need to be concerned with. You don't need to be running off all over creation with God knows who, when your little butt needs to be at my house. That's what I pay you for."

  Becky watched the harsh lines of his face tighten in displeasure. Could this be a result of her conversation with Kyle? What else could it be? Becky knew the care she took of the sheriff and that she kept his home impeccably clean. And what was more, she knew that he knew it, too. A heady feeling came over her when she realized that this could be in fact, a sign of jealousy.

  Jake watched the half-girl, half-woman standing before him. Shit! What the hell had come over him? Just because some stupid kid had shown a slight interest in her, he had gone berserk. Horror slowly spread through him as he realized he had almost grabbed her and kissed her and God only knew what else. And he would have too, if they hadn't been interrupted. Appalled shock ran down his spine when he thought about how close he had come to losing it with her.

  With a sharp warning to himself to be careful, he walked over to the door and held it open for her. When she started through the threshold, his hand shot out and gripped the soft flesh of her upper arm. "I want stew for supper." He paused as his thumb unconsciously rubbed the underside of her arm. "Is that going to be a problem?"

  Becky stilled, her whole being centered on the warm hand wrapped around her arm, his touch on her flesh making a live current rush between them. She sucked in a whispery breath. "N-no." Her eyes lifted to the dark velvet of his, staring down at her. "What--whatever y-you want."

  Jake was inundated as a vortex of feelings almost incapacitated him. Lust, jealousy, and an upsetting arrow of tenderness gripped him. As he released her arm and she ran off down the street, he hung his head.

  The situation was untenable. It absolutely couldn't go on.

  ****

  Two hours later, Becky hurried back to the sheriff's house, the sugar clutched in her hands.

  She reached the front door of his house and stepped into the darkened interior. The front door slammed shut behind her. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, she caught her breath at the sight in front of her.

  She wasn't expecting him home this early. He never came home this early.

  The sheriff leaned against the table, watching her. Her heartbeat
accelerated from the impact of his presence. "Where have you been?" His voice was low and deep, laced with a tension she was only beginning to understand. She tried to control her sudden nervousness. It was always like this when he was nearby. Nobody she had ever met affected her the way he did. Her blood warmed as quivers raced through her system.

  "We ran out of s-sugar." She was breathless from the quick trip to the store, and from the unexpected sight of him.

  "We?" he asked. His voice was smooth, like honey running through her.

  She ignored the question, slid her eyes away from his and moved away from the door to the stove.

  Becky watched the sheriff out of the corner of one eye as she leveled off a cup of sugar. She tried to concentrate on the icing for the cake she had baked for him, but she couldn't with all his attention focused on her.