Grayson. Delores FossenЧитать онлайн книгу.
“I don’t have much time,” she said before he could speak.
“That’s why I came to Silver Creek today. And that’s why I’ll need your answer right away. I know, this isn’t fair, but if you say no, I’ll have to try to find someone else … though I’m not sure I can.” She didn’t stop long enough to draw breath, and her words ran together. “Still, I’ll understand if you want to say no, but, Grayson, I’m praying you won’t—”
“What are you talking about?” he finally said, speaking right over her.
“Perhaps you should sit down for this.”
“I’d rather stand,” he let her know.
“No. Trust me on this. You need to be sitting.”
That took him several steps beyond just being curious, and Grayson sank into the chair across from her. Eve sat as well, facing him. Staring at him. And nibbling on her lip.
“I’m not sure how to say this,” she continued, “so I’m just going to put it out there.” She paused. “Grayson,” she finally said and looked him straight in the eyes. “I need you to get me pregnant. Today.”
About the Author
Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain DELORES FOSSEN feels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.
Grayson
Delores Fossen
MILLS & BOON
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Chapter One
Silver Creek, Texas
Sheriff Grayson Ryland couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.
He slid his hand over the Smith & Wesson in his leather shoulder holster and stepped from his patrol truck. He lifted his head, listening, and glanced around the thick woods that were practically smothering the yellow cottage. The front door and curtains were closed.
No sign of the cottage’s owner, Eve Warren.
No sign of anyone for that matter, but just twenty minutes earlier Eve had called his office to report that she had seen someone suspicious in the area.
Grayson knew this part of the county like the back of his hand. Along with his brothers, he had fished in the creek at the bottom of the hill. He’d camped these woods. There were a lot of places to duck out of sight….
Plenty of memories, too.
That required a deep breath, and he cursed himself for having to take it.
The front door opened, and he spotted Eve. She was a five-foot-six-inch memory of a different kind. She’d obviously known he was there. Maybe that was the reason his brain was firing warnings on all cylinders.
“Grayson,” she said, her tongue flickering over her bottom lip. “You came.”
That nervous little tongue flicker and the too-hopeful look in her misty blue eyes riled him. “You called the sheriff’s office and asked for me,” he reminded her. “You said you thought you saw someone.”
“Of course.” She nodded, swallowed hard. “But I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
Neither was he, especially since he was neck-deep in a murder investigation, but when he’d gotten her message, he’d decided not to send a deputy, that he would be the one to personally respond.
Well, respond to the call anyway.
Not to the woman.
Not ever again.
It’d been over sixteen years since he’d last seen Eve. She’d been standing in a doorway then, too. Her blond hair had been well past her shoulders back in those days, but it was short now and fashionably rumpled. The last decade and a half had settled nicely on her curvy body.
Something he decided not to notice.
Since his eyes and body seemed to have a different idea about that not-noticing part, Grayson got down to business.
“You reported someone suspicious?” he prompted.
“I did.” She scrubbed her hands down the sides of her pearl-gray dress. The cold December wind caught the hem, making it flutter around the tops of her knees. “I was about to call you anyway … about something else … and then I saw him. A man. He was down by the creek.”
Grayson lifted his shoulder and wondered why the heck she’d intended to call him, but he didn’t ask. “Could have been a neighbor.” Even though there weren’t any close ones to the Warren cottage.
“I don’t think it was a neighbor,” Eve insisted. “I got a bad feeling when I spotted him.”
Yeah. Grayson knew all about bad feelings. The one he had about this situation was getting worse with each passing moment.
“I didn’t want to take any chances,” she continued. “What with the murder you had here a few days ago. How are you handling that, by the way?”
She probably hadn’t meant to irritate him with that question, but she did. Hell, no matter what she said, she would irritate him. But Grayson didn’t want anyone, including Eve, questioning his ability to handle a murder investigation, even if it was only the third one in his twelve years as sheriff of Silver Creek.
“I heard you haven’t identified the body, or the killer,” she added.
“Not yet.” And Grayson got back on target. “You have any idea who this person was you saw?”
Eve shook her head. “No. But for the past couple of days I’ve been getting hang-up calls at my condo in San Antonio. And there’s been a time or two when I thought someone was following me. Nothing specific. Just a feeling. It was one of the reasons I decided to come out to the cottage. So I could get away.”
Well, that explained that. Eve had inherited the cottage from her grandmother eighteen months ago, but to the best of Grayson’s knowledge, this was her first visit to the place. And she hadn’t just come to relax. She’d planned on calling him.
Why?
Again, he didn’t ask. He kept this conversation focused on the job he’d been called out to do.
“Any reason you know of why someone would follow you or make those hang-up calls?” he asked.
Another head shake. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately,”