Bind Me Close: 3 (Knights in Black Leather) (3 page)

“Size 16. Breasts a good forty? D?”

She stared straight ahead. “I will not ask you how you can
estimate that.”

“So I’m right?”

“You have a good eye.”

He smacked his lips. “Hips, forty. The rest of you, all nice
and tight in all the right places.”

Wow, he was such a player, but was she complaining?
Only
if he has a wife.
“Thanks, Sheriff, but—”

“Wade. The name is Wade and you are provided for, Willow
Turner. I told Cara what sizes.”

“Gee. Did you pick out colors too?”

“I did. Black. Hot pink too.”

She blushed, betting the shade of her skin matched his last
selection.

He laughed. “Meanwhile, Samantha called over to the B&B
where you’re booked and told them what happened.”

“That was kind of her. But,” she said, her mind whirring
with remedies for this afternoon’s losses, “I’ll have to rent another car. That
is, if they’ll let me, considering I’ve not been a model customer for this
one.” She pointed her thumb at the charred wreckage of the Honda.

“No worries. Bravado Rent-a-Car is closed for the day. Too
late to get one. So I am going to take you to my house where—”

“Oh, no. Thank you.”

He grimaced. “You know, lady, you’re a hard nut. Do you
always say no to folks who want to help you?”

“Well. Now that you mention it. I do.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll be beholden?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad. Being alive means you’ve got to connect. People in
Bravado lend a hand to others. Tonight you are in need. And my ranch is only
about five miles back toward Bravado.”

She sighed and shook her head. Why argue? Her only
alternative was to walk away…and since she had no idea where she was, she was
his to command. “So it’s on the way?”

He nodded. “It is. And besides, you need what I’ve got for
you.”

Really? Like what might that be? Something big and brawny
and blond.
She licked her lips.
Am I seduced by this guy much?

He gave her a sideways glance, as if—oh Christ—he knew she’d
been thinking about what she’d really love to have him give her. His marvelous
body. Inside her. All around her. On top of her.

Stop that, Willow.

“I’ll give you my car.”

She struggled with that concept. “Your…car.”

“You need one. I have one.”

He had this shit-eating grin as if he had just given her a
birthday present. But it was better than that.
I am fortunate.
“I’m
grateful.”

“Say thank you.”

She grinned. “Thank you.”

“Now buckle up.” He turned the ignition. “We’re going to set
you right.”

She hadn’t had any man tell her that. Not since her daddy
died more than ten years ago. And the comfort of this man’s thoughtfulness swam
through her bloodstream like warm maple syrup. So she buckled up, ready for the
ride.

He drove onto his ranch road ten minutes later, questioning
his sanity. The lady beside him had grown quiet as he’d talked to his deputy
and his dispatcher for most of the ride home. Fine by him. He needed to button
his lip. He’d already made a damn fool of himself, offering her comfort, one of
his cars and a bear hug or two.

Christ, man. Haven’t been over to see Leanne in more than
a month and my balls are so blue I’m cattin’ after this lady. She’s come to
town to do historical research, for godssakes. Not to grace your bed.

Nice looking filly though. Too young for me.
Too
innocent of Bravado as well.

And that, he was shocked to say, was one reason why he liked
her.

What’s wrong with me? I like my women willing. Eager for
me…and any of my friends I bring to the party.

Lately, though, he’d grown plumb tired of women in the Hill
Country who assumed a Bravado man was game for sex, morning, noon or night.
Still, just to look at this one cranked up images of what he’d like to do to
her. Cuff those wrists. Strap those toned thighs, spreading them wide. And the
ass? Man, the glimpse he’d had of the curve of her butt in those white shorts
played over and over in his brain like a video. Her gluts were tight.
Strong.
I could have her from behind, long and slow, giving her every inch of me.

“Gee, that is big,” she said, leaning forward to compliment
his two-story home.

He gave her half a laugh. “Yeah, and empty.”
Hell. What’s
wrong with me? Telling her I’m a father of two is no way to interest her. If I
could. Or should.
“The kids are in college.”

“You have children?”

Was she disappointed? Glancing at her, he confirmed his
suspicion. But he also felt a little tickle in his groin. If she thought
because he had kids that he also had a wife to go with, she was dead wrong.

“I do. One son. One daughter. Twins. This summer they’re on
a church mission in Guatemala.”

“Good stuff. How old are they?”

About to answer, he stopped when she added an apology.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy. I teach high school and just…am…interested.”

And flustered about it too. “No foul. I get it.” He pulled
up to the front veranda and stopped the truck. “They’re twenty-one next month.
Going to throw a birthday party for their big day. You’ll come, I hope.”

“Thanks. I will if I’m still here. I like parties. Big
ones.” She wiggled her brows. “Hope it’s okay with your wife that you invited
me.”

“No wife,” he told her with satisfaction oozing from his
pores that she’d mentioned a spouse.

“Oh. I’m sorry—”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m not. And do stop apologizing. Come
inside and let me get you a sweet tea. You look like you’re parched as a
buzzard. I know I am.”

“Sounds great. I am drying out. Thanks.” She put her hand to
her door handle.

“Ah-ah-ah.” He clamped a big paw over her wrist. “Where do
you hail from? No lady opens her own door here in Texas.”

She grinned. “All right. I’m from—”

He put up a finger to have her hold that thought then jumped
out of the cab. After he opened her door for her he reached in and took her
hand to help her down. “Where?”

“Boston.”

“That explains it. Land of the Pilgrims.” He lifted his chin
in the direction of the front door. “Uptight and nervous.”

She snorted. “Have you ever been there?”

“I was, as a matter of fact. Took a seminar in urban street
fighting in the city a few years back.” He walked alongside her as he climbed
up his porch steps and pushed the door wide. “Come on inside where it’s shady
and cool.”

“Thanks. No one locks their doors here?”

He arched his brows at her. “Rob the sheriff’s house?”

“So true,” she said, snapping her fingers. She stood in his
foyer, her skin glowing in the setting sun streaming through his windows. “So
you really hated Boston?”

“Let’s say I didn’t like it as much as I wanted to.” He
unbuckled his belts and his holster, laying them on the front table.
Anything
to stop admiring how big and beautiful she is.
“Thought I might have moved
there but I couldn’t stand the cold. Not the weather or the people.”

“Maybe you didn’t meet the right people,” she told him, her
dark-chocolate eyes swirling with humor.

“You could have a point.” He motioned for her to follow him,
leading her down the long hall past the stairs and the living room toward the
kitchen. “I believe in women’s equality and all that but I could not cotton to
how bold they were. Have a seat.”

She dropped onto a barstool at his kitchen counter, giving
him a sassy lift of her brows. “What other offenses did they commit besides
open their own doors?”

He liked the way she argued with him. “Grabbed for the
dinner check.”

“Ouch.”

“Worse,” he said as he strode to the refrigerator, opened it
up and got a pitcher of iced tea. “Ordered the wine.”

She shook her head, her eyes twinkling like dark stars.
“Terrible, all that gumption. It’s why the North won the war.”

“Only when we turned our heads.” He got down glasses,
dropped ice cubes in and poured the tea. “You know that quite a few of the
Turner men died in that war?”

“No. I didn’t.” She took her glass and drank.

“General Hood’s men, every one.” His gaze on her elegant
throat as she swallowed had him thinking of many acts that had nothing to do
with the War Between the States. “I have a big family Bible with dates of
births and deaths, marriages too. Case has letters from a lot of the relatives.
The MacRae men have lots of letters but you really want to look at their
pictures. Many of them are of Fancy and Cole and Wyatt MacRae. The whole lot is
a treasure trove for someone like you.”

“Oh, you are killing me here.” The look on her face was pure
passion. Her eyes alight, her lips parted.

Beautiful as she was right now, he hankered for a finer
expression. He wanted to see her when she screamed in orgasm. Did she look
exactly like this? Or could he take her higher?

He cleared his throat. “Well, examining all of it could keep
you very busy. How long are you staying?” Days? Weeks?
As if I could be so
lucky.

“Depends on how quickly I get to read all those letters and
see all the pictures. I know only about my great-grandfather’s life as a…well,
even in private he called himself a half-breed.” She winced and took a sip of
her tea then drew patterns in the frost on the glass. “Toward the end of his
life after his oldest son died in the Spanish-American War, he wrote that he
was an American.”

“Good for him. It’s what he was, even more than the rest of
us Anglos.”

“He was proud to be part Anglo too. After he passed the bar
and became a lawyer he never told anyone he was part Comanche. He said he came
from Texans who were proud to have fought for the country. And what about your
ancestors?” she asked him.

“Ah, well. My great-grandfather came to Bravado after Lee
surrendered at Appomattox in ’65. He was a lieutenant in the First Maryland
Cavalry but he came with a lot of money so everyone called him a carpetbagger.”

Her gaze ran over the lovely kitchen, trying to picture the
desperation of those who survived the Civil War. Her own family had suffered
terribly. “Did he have family here? Why come so far south?”

“We think he came for a new start. The Saxons hail from
Baltimore. They were strong stock, a big family who ran a bank in the city and
bred racing horses in Howard County. But in the records we have a warrant for
his arrest from the sheriff of Loudoun County, Virginia, near Washington. It
says he was wanted for the murder of a Confederate soldier named Dennis
Stiles.”

“Any idea why?”

“Yes. My great-grandfather was a gambler. Very skilled with
cards. The family story goes that although he might have been a fugitive from
the law in Virginia, he came to Bravado with a lot of money. In fact he paid
the Turner land taxes for his brother-in-law, Fancy’s younger brother, for more
than four years after he married your grandmother’s sister, who was my
great-grandmother.”

“And her name was what?”

“Marguerite.”

“Oh, boy.” Willow dragged a hand over the crown of her
midnight-black hair. “I’ll have to make a family tree or I will never remember
all these names!”

“I’ve got one in the family Bible you can study. In fact
I’ll give it to you and you can photocopy it.”

“Terrific. So all this means that you and I really are
distant cousins.”

Kissing cousins. He lifted his glass in a toast. “I would
not kid you. So you see, we’re able to help each other out without necessary
payback.”

In the cool comfort of his home she smiled and clinked
glasses with him. “Sounds like a lot of people in town are related. Might be
tough for this old rude, crude Bostonian to accept favors.”

He chastised her with a fierce grin. “Not so hard. You’ll
get along fine.”

Her smile faded, her gaze dropping to her tea. “I’ve never
had to deal with a wrecked car before. Can you give me some kind of letter or
form for the rental company? Something that states what happened to the Honda?”

“Sure. I’ll do that for you first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks.” Draining her glass, she rose from her stool. “Can
you point me in the direction of the powder room?”

“Sure thing. I should have thought of it sooner. You were
patient to sit there all those hours and wait for me. Go down the hall and to
the right near the stairs.”

“Great. Then I really need to go check in at the B&B.
Get ready for tonight.”

“When you’re done meet me in the garage through that door.”
He pointed to the one in the far wall of the family room. “I’ll get the car
ready for you.”

Walking out of the gleaming kitchen, Willow wondered if Wade
himself kept the house so spotless. His car was. Why not? Men did dishes. Why
not cleaning? The stainless steel had nary a fingerprint on the fridge or the
big gas range. The black granite countertops sparkled. The floor, she could eat
dinner from.

But escaping Sheriff Wade Saxon’s presence for a few minutes
seemed like a wise move. He had been a different person in his truck. As
sheriff, he was driven, focused even if he also looked at her as if he wanted
to eat her for supper. Here in his home he was so jovial, so conversational, so
knowledgeable about their extended family that she was enchanted by him in a
new way. She was captured by his charm and his willingness to tell her all he
knew.

He was older. A father with two adult children. A sheriff
with responsibilities and a home that looked as though it came from
House
and Ranch
. To put it bluntly, she was impressed.

And I should not be thinking about a man. I am here on
business. And looking starry-eyed at the local sheriff is not among the duties
of the teacher and historian who is here to get information for a book.

She got the heck out of the kitchen, hoping she didn’t look
as though she was running.

Passing through the hall, she paused at the étagère loaded
with family photographs. All were of children, a girl and boy as they grew from
toddlers to elementary age with their front teeth missing. One was of the two
of them in caps and gowns. Blond and green-eyed, they were good-looking kids.
His, clearly.

Among the pictures was not one of a woman.

Which means he can’t bear to look at her because he still
loves her or—

“She’s not here because she isn’t part of my family.”

At the sound of his voice Willow spun right into his arms.
Catching her by the elbows, Wade steadied her.

“Sorry. I—” She shook her head, embarrassed to be caught
being nosy and apologizing once more. “I make a habit of that word.”

“No need.”

“I was drawn by their pictures.”

“And you noticed there aren’t any of their mother.”

Willow bit her lower lip. “I did. It’s not any of my
business.”

“But everyone knows. And you’re family so you should know
too. You will soon, what with your research and all. She left town. Left me.
Long ago. Never came back. And I wouldn’t have taken her if she had returned.”

“I see. Was she a kissing cousin too?”
Arghh. That was
forward, as well! Get smart, Willow! Shut your mouth.

“No. She was New Bravado. Thought she’d like it but…” He
halted, his mellow green eyes gone hard as glass. “She came for the fun, left
for more.”

That totally confounded Willow. What did you say after you
had just thrown a grenade into his living room? “I should go to the powder
room.”

He tried to smile. The attempt was weak. “Do that. Meet you
in the garage.”

Walking away, Willow felt like a snake slithering out of the
room. She had intruded on his home, looking at pictures of his children,
inciting him to talk about their mother whom he wished to ignore. She’d
darkened his day.
So bad, Willow.

“Stop that.”

Her hand on the knob to the bathroom door, she paused to tip
her head in question at Wade. “What?”

“Don’t criticize yourself. You were curious. That’s a good
thing for historians, I’d say.”

Relieved at his take on her intrusion, she sighed. “You’re
very kind. I promise to be less rude and crude.”

He crinkled his eyes at her in forgiveness. “You are fine as
you are, Willow. No one is judging you here.”

“Thanks. Not here either.”

“Good to know. So get in there. Feel better. Then come get
your car.”

“Yes sir.”

He hadn’t started up any of the cars since Sunday. Not good
for the motors, the pumps, nothing. If he didn’t get back on schedule with the
four cars’ maintenance he’d be left with four useless hunks of junk sitting in
this massive garage.