MOST ELIGIBLE SHERIFF Page 2

  “Is that the sheriff’s vehicle?”

  “What else would Cliff drive?” The woman took hold of Ruby’s arm to hurry her along.

  “Why is he here?” Had the Las Vegas detective phoned the sheriff? Told him of the switch? If so, wouldn’t he have alerted Ruby?

  Beside her, the woman blew out an exasperated breath. “Because that’s what men do when they’re dating a woman. They show up unannounced and surprise her.”

  “Dating!” Ruby squeaked.

  “Unless you have another definition for when a couple goes out six times in the past month.”

  Scarlett had a boyfriend. Another boyfriend besides Demitri. And he was the local sheriff!

  A rush of anger steadied Ruby. Of all the details not to share, her sister had to pick the most important one.

  * * *

  CLIFF DEMPSEY SAT at the long oak table, a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. The next moment, he sprang to his feet and began pacing. What, precisely, was he doing here?

  “Something wrong?” Sam asked.

  His friend and owner of the Gold Nugget Ranch had joined Cliff in the empty kitchen. As recently as last week, a dozen guests would have competed for elbow room at the crowded table. Since completion of the new dining hall, the kitchen belonged solely to the staff.

  “I probably shouldn’t bother Scarlett when she’s at work,” Cliff said.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Sam nodded at the bouquet of fresh flowers lying on the table. “You asking her to the square dance this weekend?”

  “Yeah.” Cliff nodded, wiping his damp palms on his khaki slacks.

  As the law in these parts, he’d handled every situation from breaking up fights between drunken wranglers to singlehandedly taking down an armed bank robber to talking a possibly suicidal woman off the cell-phone tower at Grey Rock Point. Yet the prospect of inviting Scarlett McPhee to the dance had him sweating like a pig.

  This was hardly their first date. It was, however, their first date after a recent lull. He and Scarlett had started out strong enough but this past week, she’d seemed to lose interest, not returning his calls and sounding distant when they did talk.

  Cliff wasn’t sure what to make of it. Could be something simple as her having a case of nerves. Just because he was considering taking their relationship from casual to serious and wanted to test the waters didn’t mean she was, too. He was determined to find out.

  “Nothing like waiting till the last minute.” Sam dropped into an empty seat. “The dance is the day after tomorrow.”

  Cliff sat across from him. “I wasn’t sure I could get the evening off.” In truth, he’d stalled, doubting the wisdom of showing up unannounced. She may not appreciate it.

  If he could go back in time to five minutes ago, he’d head straight to the station rather than call Sam’s wife looking for Scarlett because, par for the course, she hadn’t answered her cell phone.

  “It’s none of my business,” Sam said, “but you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

  Cliff pushed his cowboy hat back on his head, then took it off and set it on the table. “My aunt Hilda thinks I should get married.”

  “It’s a nice state to be in with the right woman. I can vouch for that.”

  “She thinks I should get married at the Mega Weekend of Weddings in June.”

  “Whoa!” Sam sat back. “Kind of soon, isn’t it? That’s only six weeks away. You and Scarlett haven’t been dating very long.”

  “Real soon. Hilda has it in her head the local sheriff marrying will be a big draw. Bring more tourists to town for the event. Registration is only about half of what the town council hoped for.”

  Cliff’s aunt not only owned the Paydirt Saloon, Sweetheart’s most popular watering hole, she was also the mayor and a driving force behind the Mega Weekend of Weddings extravaganza.

  The town of Sweetheart had a colorful history. It was founded by a pair of young lovers who met on a wagon train passing through. They married in California and returned to Sweetheart to settle down and raise a family. The man promptly discovered gold in the nearby mountains, and the town experienced its first boom.

  Around the turn of the twentieth century, young couples began eloping to Sweetheart, their marriages officiated by a judge who didn’t inquire too deeply into a person’s age. The surrounding natural beauty drew tourists and outdoor recreationists, eager to hike, fish, horseback ride and, during the winter months, cross-country ski.

  For the past fifty years, until the forest fire last summer nearly destroyed the town, the citizens of Sweetheart had capitalized on the wedding and tourist trade. Most of the local economy had depended on it for their livelihoods. When the tourists stopped coming after the fire, the economy died. Cliff’s aunt, along with Sam and several dedicated others, was leading a fierce fight to restore Sweetheart to its former glory.

  “She also thinks it will help with my reelection this fall,” Cliff continued. “Hers, too. Not that anyone would run against her.”

  “You, either.”

  Sam had a point. A Dempsey had held the office of sheriff since the 1860s. It was a long-standing tradition the citizens were more than happy to continue.

  “The mayor may be right, however.” Sam sipped at his coffee. “You could be a draw. But is that any reason to get married? It’s a huge step. Are you even in love with Scarlett?”

  “No. But I like her. She’s fun. Pretty. Smart. Good with kids.”

  “You sound like you’re picking her out of a catalog. Might be why you’re jumpier than a toad on a hot sidewalk.”

  Cliff had to laugh. “Rest assured, I’m not asking her to marry me or even considering it. My aunt will have to come up with another gimmick.”

  “Glad to hear that.”

  “But I’d like to see where things go with Scarlett. Test our potential.”

  Cliff had another, more personal reason for pursuing Scarlett he didn’t share with his friend. He was a family man without a family of his own. A homebody without a full house to come home to. Last summer, he’d moved his newly divorced cousin Maeve back to Sweetheart and was now helping to raise her brood of three. His involvement with them served to emphasize how empty his personal life had become.

  With the town’s population of roughly one thousand, there weren’t a lot of available women for Cliff to choose from. His job, the long hours and potential for danger, required an understanding wife, which narrowed the field even more. Scarlett McPhee, new to town, was a definite prospect.

  Sam stood and clapped Cliff on the shoulder. “Take it from me, don’t rush into anything. I married the first time for the wrong reasons, and we spent a lot of years making each other miserable.”

  At that moment, Sam’s new wife Annie entered the kitchen. Cliff watched his friend’s eyes light up and his smile grow wide. That never happened when Cliff looked at Scarlett. At least, not to the same degree.

  It could, though. They might fall in love. Eventually.

  Scarlett walked in behind Annie. Cliff ran a hand through his hair and did his best to flash her a smile as wide as his friend’s. It froze, then waned. Judging by her wary expression, she wasn’t at all happy to see him.

  Damn. What was going on with her?

  Annie greeted him with a warm, “Morning, Cliff,” then winked at her husband. “Let’s get out of here and leave these two alone.”

  Sam hesitated, his brows raised in question. Cliff shook his head. He didn’t need backup. If he was going down in flames, he preferred to do it without an audience.

  Once they were alone, he waited for Scarlett to speak. After a lengthy and awkward pause, he muttered, “Hey.”

  “Hi.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Sure.” Rubbing her palms together, she went to the counter and hel
ped herself to a mug from the stack.

  Cliff had been going to fix her the coffee. Instead, he watched, completely captivated. Scarlett glided across the room with an elegant—and subtly sensuous—grace he hadn’t noticed before. As if she were wearing heels and not cowboy boots.

  She took her coffee black. That was different. Maybe he and his cowboy tastes were rubbing off on her. The leather belt was also different. She usually didn’t wear one. He found himself wishing she had. The belt accentuated her trim waist and ample curves, which were only hinted at before.

  She raised the mug of coffee to her mouth, pursed her lips and blew on the liquid, then took a sip. A jolt Cliff hadn’t felt in Scarlett’s presence before arrowed through him. He’d always thought her to be attractive but not necessarily sexy. The sudden revelation unnerved him. He generally kept a firm grip on his emotions, a necessary skill in his line of work.

  Picking up the bouquet, he said, “These are for you.”

  “Thanks.” She accepted the flowers and, with both hands full, set them back down on the table. “You didn’t have to.”

  “They’re a bribe. I was hoping you’d go with me to the square dance Friday night.”

  The community center had finally reopened nearly a year after the fire. The barbeque and dance were in celebration.

  “I...um...don’t think I can. I appreciate the invitation, though.”

  “Are you going with someone else?” He didn’t like the idea of that.

  “No, no. I’m just...busy.” She clutched her mug tightly between both hands.

  “I’d really like to take you.” Fifteen minutes ago, he probably wouldn’t have put up a fight and accepted her loss of interest. Except he was suddenly more interested in her than before. These slight nuances in her were intriguing. “Think on it overnight.”

  “O...kay.” She took another sip of her coffee. As she did, the cuff of her shirt sleeve pulled back.

  He saw it then, a small tattoo on the inside of her left wrist resembling a shooting star. A second jolt coursed through him, this one of an entirely different nature. He hadn’t seen the tattoo before.

  Because, as of seven days ago when he and Scarlett ate dinner at the I Do Café, it wasn’t there.

  “Is that new?” He pointed to the tattoo.

  Panic filled her eyes. “Um...yeah. It is.”

  Cliff didn’t buy her story. There were no tattoo parlors in Sweetheart and, to his knowledge, she hadn’t left town. And why the sudden panic?

  Before he could question her further, his cell phone rang.

  “Tom Welch just called,” his deputy Iva Lynn said. “Seems some of his chain saws disappeared overnight from his garage. Though, knowing Tom, he probably lent it to a friend and can’t remember.”

  “What’s his address?”

  “140 Matrimony Lane.”

  “Tell him I’ll be there shortly.” Cliff disconnected. “I’ll call you later,” he told Scarlett. And he would, if only to get to the bottom of her strange behavior and new tattoo that really didn’t look all that new.

  “All right.”

  Any other time, he would have given her a kiss. It felt strange under the current circumstances, so, instead, he opted for a brief, one-armed hug—which she tolerated more than returned.

  The top of her head came to just under his nose. Cliff inhaled, only to pull back and stare at her.

  Scarlett averted her face as if shy. Or she was hiding something. His police instincts told him it was the latter.

  Leaning down, he took another whiff of the scent that had triggered his internal alarm. She smelled delightful, reminding him of the flowers he’d brought for her. It also wasn’t at all how Scarlett normally smelled.

  Something was seriously wrong.

  He scrutinized her face. Eyes, chocolate brown and fathomless. Same as before. Hair, thick and glossy as mink’s fur. Her lips, however, were different. More ripe, more lush and incredibly kissable.

  He didn’t stop to think and simply reacted. The next instant, his mouth covered hers.

  She squirmed and squealed and wrestled him. Hot coffee splashed onto his chest and down his slacks. He let her go, but not because of any pain.

  “Are you crazy?” she demanded, her breath coming fast.

  Holding on to the wrist with the new tattoo, he narrowed his gaze. “Who the hell are you? And don’t bother lying because I know you aren’t Scarlett McPhee.”

  Chapter Two

  “Don’t hurt me! Please.”

  Ruby had made the identical plea eight days earlier when she was accosted in her condo. The stalker hadn’t listened and instead had increased his choke hold, starving her body of oxygen as he whispered vile things in her ears.

  This man, Cliff, did listen. He released her but planted himself directly in her path, his stance and demeanor that of a linebacker. If she tried to run, she wouldn’t make it three feet before he dropped her in her tracks.

  “Who are you?” he repeated.

  She wavered, forcing herself to concentrate as her heart banged against the side of her rib cage. He was the local sheriff. Sworn to serve and protect, yes? And Ruby, God help her, needed protection.

  He was also someone her sister had liked well enough to date. Ruby should be able to trust him, only she didn’t.

  She cradled her wrist, the response more reflexive than anything else. He hadn’t hurt her. Not really. But the kiss, and its suddenness, had startled her, releasing a flood of harrowing memories she’d give anything to forget.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No, I’m not.” She’d never be okay again.

  He reached for her wrist. “Let me see.”

  Alarmed, she retreated a step. He was already too close for comfort. “I’m fine.”

  “Tell me your name.”

  Ruby considered her answer. Lying, as he’d pointed out, was useless. He might arrest her. Probably would anyway. Either way, he’d find out very quickly she wasn’t Scarlett.

  “Ruby,” she finally whispered. “Ruby McPhee.”

  “Scarlett’s sister?”

  She nodded. “Twin sister.”

  His eyes bore into her, noting, she supposed, the resemblances and very tiny differences that only their parents and close friends could distinguish. She averted her head and prepared herself for the onslaught of questions.

  He asked only one. “Why?”

  She instinctively knew her answer would decide his course of action. She settled on the truth, the lesser of two evils.

  “I needed a place to hide out for a week or so.” When he said nothing, she continued. “The detective on my case recommended it. At least until after the arraignment. So, Scarlett and I decided to trade places.”

  “Where is she?”

  “San Diego. Visiting—” Ruby swallowed. Revealing that her sister was off reconciling with her old boyfriend probably wasn’t a good idea. “A friend,” she finished lamely.

  “Who’s arraignment? Yours?”

  “Absolutely not!” He thought she was the criminal? Of all the nerve. “I was attacked last week. By a stalker. He was arrested and charged, then released on bail within hours.” Ruby had barely left the station before an army of attorneys secured Crowley’s freedom.

  “Where did the attack take place?”

  “My condo. He broke in and ambushed me when I came home.”

  “A former lover?”

  There it was again, that accusatory tone. “No. We met at the casino where I work.”

  “A dealer?”

  “I’m assistant manager of the VIP lounge. Crowley was a customer. Well, his father, actually. He’s a regular and started bringing his son a few months ago after Crowley graduated college.”

  Ruby didn’t t
ell Cliff more than that. She’d been advised to keep her mouth shut. The senior Crowley was a local politician with considerable clout. His lawyers had contacted Ruby twice, pressuring her to drop the charges in exchange for compensation.

  It was yet one more reason she’d decided to leave Vegas until after Crowley’s arraignment and why she would feel safer going home afterward. Once Crowley entered his plea, his attorneys would stop pressuring Ruby.

  “Which casino?” Cliff asked.

  How many questions was this guy going to ask? “The Century Casino. In Vegas.”

  “Did you encourage this guy? Why’d he pick you?”

  Ruby frowned. Suddenly, their conversation had become an interrogation. She felt as if she was back at the police station, wanting to cry out that she was the victim, not the perpetrator.

  “Contact Detective Dorell James of the Vegas Metro P.D. You can ask him the rest of your questions.” She squared her shoulders. “Am I free to go now, Sheriff? Or are you taking me in?”

  “I’m considering it.”

  An indignant gasp escaped her. “I haven’t broken any laws.”

  “That remains to be seen. Your sister’s missing.”

  “I told you. She’s in San Diego. Call her if you don’t believe me.”

  “I will. After I verify your story.” Removing a satellite phone from his belt, he punched numbers into the keypad and offered no greeting to whoever answered. “I need you to locate a Detective Dorell James, LVMPD. Patch me through once he’s on the line. Tell him it’s regarding Ruby McPhee. Yes, that’s right. Ruby. Not Scarlett.”

  He watched her while he waited, like a predator studying its prey in the seconds before pouncing. Ruby tried not to squirm and observed him in return through lowered lashes.

  The sheriff—it was hard to think of him as Cliff—was one of those men who did justice to a uniform. Tall, broad shouldered, rugged features. She’d noticed his short cropped blond hair before he donned his hat and it disappeared beneath the brim. His eyes, pale blue when he looked into the light and gray when he looked away, were disarming. She doubted they missed the smallest detail, which must account for how he’d so easily discovered her ruse.