The Sheriff's Last Gamble. Lauri Robinson

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      Chapter Two

      After two hours of fighting off Emma Blackwell, the last thing Jake needed was a confrontation with this little hotheaded gambler, yet, he had no choice. Actually, if he was as honest as he claimed to be, he’d confess that sparring with Stacy sparked fire inside him. Then, if he admitted that, he’d have to come clean on the fact he was glad she’d came to town when she had—before he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.

      Catching up with the little stick of dynamite on heels, he grasped one elbow, propelling her down the roadway. “I’m not engaged to Emma and you know it.”

      Stacy tugged at his hold, but without enough effort to break it. “That’s not the way she puts it.” Casting him a stare that was blank, except for a tiny twinkle, she added, “So you’re just in the courting stage, are you?”

      “No, I’m not, we’re not—” Damn, she flustered him. “No,” he said sternly starting over. “I am not courting Emma Blackwell. Never have been and never will be.”

      Chin up, eyes staring straight ahead, she continued to march beside him. “You oughta tell Emma that.”

      “I have,” he insisted.

      A puffed-up laugh sounded as she twirled her parasol and looked at him with an insolent grin. “She’s a little dim-witted, is she?”

      Sliced right down the middle, Jake held his lips tight together. Half of him wanted to paddle her bottom soundly for being so snippety. It wasn’t becoming. On most women, that is. That’s where the other half of him came in, wanting to chuckle and agree Emma was a bit dim-witted.

      Charming, in her own self-imposed little way, Stacy Blackwell made even being snippety adorable. Too adorable. To the point he forgot she was a gambler. A woman gambler. The one thing he could never accept in his life.

      “Cat got your tongue, Sheriff?” she asked sweetly.

      Planting a grin on his face as false as the one on hers, he increased his pace, pulling her along beside him. “No, I just don’t want the entire town listening while I box your ears for being so bad mannered and boorish about your own sisters.”

      “Half sisters,” she admonished. “And I was only referring to one of them. I find nothing appalling about Anne Marie.”

      “As you shouldn’t,” he remarked, guiding her step onto the boardwalk in front of his office. “She’s only fifteen.”

      Closing her parasol so the edges wouldn’t catch on the doorway, she nodded. “And the poor dear can’t help who her sister is.”

      Jake let that one slide as he pushed open the door and waited for her to cross the threshold. Once inside, he removed his hat, hung it on the nearby hook and gestured to his deputy who barely raised his head from the checkerboard atop an upturned barrel. “See to Shotgun, will you, Herman?” The palomino had followed them through town and now stood at the hitching post outside.

      The only man Jake had ever met who could play checkers, every day, all day long, grinned brightly as he caught sight of Stacy.

      “Sure thing, boss,” Herman said. “You want him settled in the livery?”

      “That’s fine,” Jake replied, wishing the old coot were ten years younger and a whole lot faster. To be fair, Herman was a good man and made a fine deputy for the small amount of law work Founder’s Creek required.

      Pausing near Stacy in his slow trek to the door, Herman said, “Make sure he doesn’t fiddle with my checkers. I’m about to win.”

      The smile on her face could have brought down angels. May have, the way Herman’s face lit up.

      “Don’t worry, Herman,” she said sweetly. “I’ll watch over your board.”

      “Thanks, Miss Stacy,” the old man drawled, worship almost oozing from the words. “You sure are a darling.”

      Jake wanted to squeeze his head at the tension growing between his ears. Even more so when Stacy patted Herman’s cheek.

      “As are you, Mr. Watson.” She leaned closer then to whisper, “Miss Ruby has peach pie at the diner today.”

      Herman gasped. “No?”

      Stacy nodded.

      “I’ll be gone a spell, boss,” his deputy said, roughing up his voice and hitching up his britches.

      “That’s fine,” Jake answered. “Just don’t forget Shotgun.”

      “I won’t,” Herman replied, now all but skipping out the door.

      When the door shut with a soft thud that would have been insignificant in most cases, Jake had to draw a breath. The air in the room had taken on a life of its own, as it normally did when he found himself alone with Stacy. This little poker player was a very attractive woman and had a unique quality about her that drew men faster than the discovery of gold. Jake wasn’t immune to it, and that flustered him, yet when he was alone with her, like now, it wasn’t frustration that came to life inside him. He wanted her as he’d never wanted anything in his life.

      She’d moved, now standing over Herman’s checkerboard, examining it thoroughly. When she repositioned a checker, Jake unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “What are you doing?”

      A glow lit her face. “Making it so he does win.”

      Jake couldn’t help but point out, “He’s playing against himself.”

      “So?” With a little shrug she added, “He still wants to win.”

      “He’s the only one playing, he wins no…” Jake cut himself off with a sigh, knowing it was useless by the smug little grin on her face. He sat then, on the corner of his desk, and watched as she roamed the room, swiping a hand across things and then looking at her fingertips as if she were a dust inspector.

      As usual, a case of double vision formed. On one side he saw her just as she was—fully clothed in a light-green gown that highlighted every curve to perfection. On the other side, where his imagination came into play, he saw what was beneath the ruffles and lace. A body he’d give his right arm to explore and claim.

      Snapping out of his fantasy took more than a head shake. Jake walked to the opposite side of the room, pretended to check the lock on the glass case holding several rifles and shotguns.

      When his breathing returned to normal, even with the air in the room still pulsating of its own accord, he recalled his job. Though he had no belief in the statement, he said, “Emma Blackwell claims you threatened her.”

      “Did she?” Gazing at her hand, Stacy fiddled with a ring, as if repositioning it just right on her slender finger. “When did I manage to do that? I’ve barely seen my dear half sister since I left her house, nearly three months ago now. Heaven knows, while in town she avoids even glancing my way.”

      Moisture beaded his neck as she walked towards him. Jake swallowed, trying to bury the desire to kiss the pert grin off her lips. “Emma claims you sent a message to the ranch that said you want her to return a necklace СКАЧАТЬ