Sheriff Takes A Bride

“Hello, Cam,” Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author Letter to Reader Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Epilogue Copyright

“Hello, Cam,”

Hallie said as he neared the porch.

Cam’s breath stopped for just a second, at the sight of Hallie. Her hair was tucked up and held in place with a tortoiseshell comb, but wispy tendrils escaped here and there and teased at the blush on her cheeks.

She’d changed into a pair of white shorts that made her legs look a good mile longer than they already were, and all too shapely for his peace of mind. Her top was a pretty shade of mint—and made her green eyes look big and wide in the evening twilight. If he’d ever wanted to touch a woman, it was this woman...at this moment.

But what about forever?

Dear Reader,

March roars in like a lion at Silhouette Romance, starting with popular author Susan Meier and Husband from 9 to 5, her exciting contribution to LOVING THE BOSS, a six-book series in which office romance leads to happily-ever-after. In this sparkling story, a bump on the head has a boss-loving woman believing she’s married to the man of her dreams....

In March 1998, beloved author Diana Palmer launched VIRGIN BRIDES. This month, Callaghan’s Bride not only marks the anniversary of this special Romance promotion, but it continues her wildly successful LONG, TALL TEXANS series! As a rule, hard-edged, hard-bodied Callaghan Hart distrusted sweet, virginal, starry-eyed young ladies. But ranch cook Tess Brady had this cowboy hankerin’ to break all his rules.

Judy Christenberry’s LUCKY CHARM SISTERS miniseries resumes with a warm, emotional pretend engagement story that might just lead to A Ring for Cinderella. When a jaded attorney delivers a very pregnant stranger’s baby, he starts a journey toward healing... and making this woman his Texas Bride, the heartwarming new novel by Kate Thomas. In Soldier and the Society Girl by Vivian Leiber, the month’s HE’S MY HERO selection, sparks fly when a true-blue, true-grit American hero requires the protocol services of a refined blue blood. A lonewolf lawman meets his match in an indomitable schoolteacher—and her moonshining granny—in Gayle Kaye’s Sheriff Takes a Bride, part of FAMILY MATTERS.

Enjoy this month’s fantastic offerings, and make sure to return each and every month to Silhouette Romance!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance

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To the Gopher Girls,

Mary, Zeidi and the one

who always got caught

GAYLE KAYE

lives in Kansas City, Missouri, and finds the Midwest a rich setting for romance novels. Her first romance in 1989 reached the finals of the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest; a second was nominated by Romantic Times Magazine as Best Silhouette Romance of the year. A wife, a mom, a nurse, she draws from many life experiences for her ideas. Her passions include her husband, her kids, traveling, reading and, of course, writing romances.

Gayle loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 29275, Parkville, MO 64152.

Dear Reader,

I was excited to learn Sheriff Takes a Bride is part of Silhouette’s new promotion, FAMILY MATTERS. Families today can be far from the typical family of the “Leave It to Beaver” days, but the key ingredient remains: love. In all my stories love abounds, love accomplishes, love encourages and love protects.

I believe in the power of family relationships. I can draw from my own experience as a single mom raising two daughters and finally meeting my very own Prince Charming, of the hardships endured and the love that was gained. I’ve written about these single moms, giving them their own unique stories.

We all have a cherished family member, one in whom we can put our trust, one who nurtures and encourages us. For Hallie Cates in Sheriff Takes a Bride that person is her independent and often cantankerous grandmother. Hallie has her job cut out for her trying to corral the moonshining Granny Pearl—and it doesn’t help that the local sheriff, Cam Osborne, has arrested the woman for her illicit trade. Or that he believes Hallie is involved.

Family means everything to Hallie and, in its own way, to Cam. But can love prevail between the two of them? It takes Granny Pearl to see that they have “family” potential.

Chapter One

“Hallie, I need you. You gotta come.”

Hallie Cates had never heard such a tremor in Granny Pearl’s voice before. Her grandmother was headstrongly in charge of her own life. Always. Something was definitely wrong.

Hallie abandoned the cookies she’d just taken from the oven and shifted the phone on her shoulder. “Granny Pearl, what is it? Are you all right?”

“No—I’m far from all right. In fact, I might never be all right again.”

There. Hallie heard the old familiar spunk she always associated with Granny Pearl. She drew an easier breath, if only for the moment. The seventy-nine-year-old woman lived all alone, tucked away in tiny, backwards—to Hallie’s way of thinking. Greens Hollow, Arkansas, but it was home to Granny Pearl. And the old girl vehemently refused to budge from there.

“I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t important, Hallie.” The woman snuffled. Or maybe it was the scratchiness of the phone system in the Ozark hill country.

“You know you can call me anytime, Granny Pearl. Now, calm down and tell me what it is.”

Granny could take care of herself, even reveled in the fact, claimed she’d be carried out of her cabin feet first and no other way. And Hallie wasn’t sure she could change her mind on that score. Still, she worried about her relative.

“This... horrible cuss of a varmint has arrested me. Locked me up and won’t let me go home. I need to feed George and Myrtle.”

Granny’s voice quavered again at the last Hallie heard it, knew her grandmother would be upset to be away from her two pesky goats, but she suspected the animals would somehow survive. It was Granny Pearl she was concerned about

“Arrested? Granny, there must be some mistake.” Who would arrest a harmless little old lady, and for what? Jaywalking across the town’s lone hilly street that saw maybe four cars and six dogs in the way of traffic in any twenty-four hour period?

“He’s locked me up and throwed away the key. I’m sure he means to feed me bread and water for supper—if I even get supper.”

Granny’s voice sounded strong. And mad. Hallie took that as a good sign. When Granny Pearl got her dander up, the earth shook around her. In fact, maybe Hallie should have a little charitable pity for the poor sheriff.

“Let me talk to Sheriff Potts, Granny Pearl.” Hallie would settle this.

“It’s not Sheriff Potts. We buried him six months ago. This...varmint’s a new breed. And not from these parts.”

Hallie was sorry to hear about Virgil Potts. She remembered him from summers she’d spent with Granny in Greens Hollow. “Then let me talk to this new var—man,” she said, correcting herself. “I’m sure I can straighten everything out.”

Granny laid the phone down. Hallie heard a quick, muffled conversation, complete with a little ripe cussing from Granny Pearl, then a deep male voice came on the line.

There was nothing scratchy about the phone line now. It fairly rumbled with the low, earthy voice. Hallie felt it tingle across her nerve endings like sandpaper over new skin. She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Sheriff,” she said coolly, “just what is it my grandmother’s supposed to have done?”

Sheriff Cam Osborne heard the tension in Hallie Cates’s voice ripple across the wire. He couldn’t help but wonder if the woman was the she-lion her granny was. And what the granddaughter from Fort Worth would say if she knew Granny Pearl had sunk her teeth into his right arm in a moment of nonvigilance on his part. That was a mistake he wasn’t about to make again—even if he had to lock the old gal up in solitary until her temper cooled a bit. If it ever did.

It would probably be one cold day in hell.

“She’s been charged with a couple of things, the most serious being selling moonshine to half the county.” He’d keep the resisting arrest and assaulting an officer of the law with a seventy-nine-year-old set of choppers for later. At least until he knew what kind of woman Pearl Cates’s pretty granddaughter was. He hated to admit he was interested. He’d seen her picture standing in a frame on the mantel over Granny’s fireplace. Thick red hair, worn loose to her shoulders, high blushing cheekbones and a sweet little mouth that just begged to be kissed.

But that he knew he had no business thinking about Who even knew if Hallie Cates would come to her grandmother’s rescue? Hadn’t Pearl said her granddaughter didn’t come back to Arkansas very often?

He took some vague satisfaction at her small gasp. “Moonshine? Why... why Granny Pearl would never... She wouldn’t... I mean, Sheriff, there must be some mistake.”

And she clearly implied he’d made it Cam sniffed the cork of the hundred-proof “evidence” he’d confiscated from his prisoner, nearly becoming looped from the stuffs fumes. Oh, the old woman was guilty all right Not to mention, downright unrepentant about her little...business. “Trust me, Ms. Cates, there’s been no mistake.”

Another small gasp, this one sounding more like an irate sigh. “How could you even think one sweet, docile, little old lady would break the law? Why, Granny is—”

“Neither sweet, nor docile,” he interrupted the tirade she was only just warming to. From her spot beside him, Granny Pearl was giving him the devil eye. The woman was just lucky he hadn’t handcuffed her to that chair she was sitting on. No, she was hardly sweet. And as for docile...?

He rubbed the bite mark on his arm.

“Okay, okay, so Granny may be a little...feisty.” Hallie Cates admitted from her end of the line. “But she’s as honest and law-abiding as the day is long. And I can vouch for that.”

Cam dragged a hand through his dark hair. They were getting nowhere here. “I’m sure you’ll get an opportunity to voice your opinion in court,” he told her, “but for now—”

Cam had to hold the phone away from his ear. “Just what kind of a low-down poleskunk are you to throw a little old lady in the clink and feed her nothing but bread and water for supper?” The woman’s blast was nearly deafening.

“Give him hell, Hallie!” Granny yelped, joining in the fracas from this end. She’d gotten to her feet and was threatening Cam with balled fists.

It wouldn’t take much for him to lock both women in a cell for a year or two. What had ever made him think a job as small-town sheriff might be preferable to the vicissitudes of the Chicago police force? He had to be crazy.

No—he wasn’t. It was the world. The world was crazy. Here, everywhere. He’d only thought he’d escaped it.

Cam didn’t relish the reputation he was sure to get for locking up a seventy-nine-year-old, and a woman, at that. But the law was the law. And Cam didn’t bend it. Not in Chicago—and not here.

“Well, Sheriff?”

Cam ordered Pearl back to her chair, then returned his attention to the voice on the other end. He suspected under other circumstances it could be velvety, caressing a man’s soul, not to mention his well-fired hormones. “The menu tonight is planked steak and green beans, with a side of biscuits. And I might suggest you don’t believe everything your sweet little grandmother tells you, Ms. Cates.”

It was all Cam could say at the moment. He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with Pearl Cates. Or with her granddaughter, who would no doubt be showing up soon, wrapped in plenty of fury and indignation, to save Pearl from the town’s heartless sheriff.

Hallie hated driving the winding back roads that led to Greens Hollow. At night they were much more than winding, they were downright dangerous. But the rude, unfeeling sheriff had left her no choice but to drop everything and race to the small town. That was, unless she wanted Granny to be spending a night alone in jail, at the man’s mercy—something of which Sheriff Cam Osborne had little, if any, she suspected.

She’d hastily thrown clothes into a suitcase, wrapped up the cookies she’d baked, deciding to take them to Granny, and headed off down the highway.

School was out for the summer, and her class of second-graders would be going off to camp, swimming, having fun—and Hallie would miss them. She’d planned a full summer schedule for herself as well, one that hadn’t included bailing her grandmother out of jail.

She’d intended to try her hand at tennis lessons, read a few books she’d been saving for a lazy sunny afternoon on the side porch, maybe take a language course—Russian or Eastern Tibetan—whatever struck her fancy.

But Granny Pearl needed her.

It was ten o’clock by the time Hallie drew up in front of the sheriff’s office. It was a small stone building that had been around for at least half a century, newer than most of the places in or around Greens Hollow. Every light inside was blazing, which meant that Cam Osborne hadn’t locked Granny in for the night and gone home, leaving the old woman alone and frightened.

If he had, he’d have had to answer to Hallie.

Hallie slammed the door to her small, overheated red Subaru, trying to keep her mind on rescuing Granny. If only the old girl would move to Fort Worth with her, it would make Hallie’s life simpler, she thought as she hurried toward the front entrance.

“Cheating? I am not cheating! You, Sheriff, are wrong. I never cheat.”

“Or make moonshine either, I suppose?”

Hallie recognized the deep resonant voice following Granny’s as the one she’d heard earlier on the phone.

A checkers game was in hot progress through the cell bars, Granny on the unfortunate side of them. Hallie stood and stared, curious to see if Granny could hold her own against the man who held her captive, both literally and otherwise.

“I saw you move that checker, you sneaky old woman—and you’re not going to get away with it,” came the sheriff’s reply.

“Prove it, Cam Osbome!”

Hallie hid a smile at Granny’s ornery rejoinder and wondered if the man would back down. He didn’t look the type to do any such thing. She took in the width of his shoulders. Unless she missed her guess, the man could wrestle a bear as easily as he could a little old lady who cheated at checkers. Maybe, just maybe, Granny had met her match with Cam Osborne.

His long legs were stretched out in front of him, sheathed in faded denim that fit him like a second skin. His shirt was a dusky blue and fit him just as sensually. Thick dark hair, worn a little long, curled over his shirt collar, and Hallie found herself wondering at its silkiness, what it might be like to delve her fingers into its richness. Quickly she checked that thought.

“Game’s over, Granny.” He folded the game board, sending checkers flying.

There was a spate of cussing from Granny before she spotted Hallie over the man’s broad shoulders.

“Hallie! Thank God you’re here. This brute is no gentleman.”

“And you, Pearl Cates, are no lady.”

Ignoring Granny’s loud harumph, he turned toward Hallie and stuck out a hand. “Sheriff Cam Osborne,” he said.

Hallie glanced at the man’s hand, debating about taking it. It was broad and sensual. Capable. Of what, she didn’t want to think about. It would swallow hers up without a doubt and she’d feel the tingle all the way to her toes. And she wasn’t sure she should risk that—not at the moment. If she were wise, not ever.

“Sheriff,” she said coolly.

The man’s eyes were a beguiling brown, his jaw strong and slightly arrogant, the kind that invited a fight or two on a Saturday night—and she didn’t have to guess who would come out the winner. His smile was slow and tempting when he chose to let it slip.

“I want out of here, Hallie. Tell this man to let me go.” Granny had her wizened face pressed to the bars, and Hallie had the sense that if the woman could get her hands on Cam Osborne at the moment she’d let loose with one good roundhouse punch.

Not that it would have a whole lot of impact on that granite body of his.

“I intend to do just that, Granny,” Hallie said, then ignoring the sheriff, went to give her grandmother a big warm hug, albeit through the cell bars.

“I brought you your favorite cookies, Granny,” she told the woman and saw a smile light her face.

“Bring ’em to me now,” she said. “That supper I got wasn’t enough to feed a carrier pigeon. I’m starved.”

“They’re out in my car. I’ll get them,” Hallie said.

When she returned with the plate of cookies wrapped in aluminum foil the sheriff had other ideas. “I, uh, need to check those before you hand them over to my...prisoner.” he said.

Hallie rolled her eyes. “Aw, come on, Sheriff, you think I baked a hacksaw blade in one of these little chocolate chippers?”

A slight smile touched his sexy mouth. “Where a Cates is concerned, a man can’t be too careful.”

Hallie handed him the plate and waited indignantly while he peeled back the foil. “I suppose they look safe enough.” He took one from the plate and popped it into his mouth.

“Well, Sheriff, if you didn’t bite into anything that will saw through bars, may I give these to my grandmother?”

He waved a hand magnanimously. “Be my guest.”

The nerve of the man, suspecting her of subterfuge, suspecting Granny of...anything, and locking the poor soul up like she was some...common criminal.

“Hallie, you do make the best cookies,” Granny said and took a fistful as if she might never get another morsel of food.

The dear probably thought she’d never again see the light of day, either. And that was a situation Hallie intended to remedy—and fast. “Excuse me, Granny Pearl. I have a few things to say to the sheriff.”

“Go get him, Hallie!” Granny said and snatched the entire plate from Hallie’s hands.

Not the best move. She might have been able to use the cookies as a bargaining tool in demanding Granny’s release. Now she’d have to depend on the man’s reasonable side—providing he had one.

She approached his desk and sat down in the lone chair beside it, crossing one jean-clad leg over the other. Her foot and leg pumped, revealing her nervousness. She’d never tried to bargain with the law before, not even over a speeding ticket.

She supposed anger wouldn’t work, though she had a lot of it. She suspected wheedling would get her nowhere either, and she’d never been very good at that anyway. Reason—it was the only thing worth attempting.

“Sheriff...” Hallie struggled for calm. “I—I’m sure we can work this out if we discuss it like two sane, sensible people.” She smiled as if to say, she’d try if he would.

“Batting those eyes isn’t going to get you anywhere, Ms. Cates,” he said superiorly. “Neither will flashing that pretty smile at me, delightful though it may be.”

“Why, of all the arrogant—! I did not bat my eyes. And my smile, Cam Osborne, was an attempt at graciousness. Obviously that’s something you wouldn’t recognize if it jumped up and bit you on your backside,” she retorted, her hackles up and on alert.

He grinned at that and Hallie wriggled in the chair. Damn, his office was close, stuffy. She wanted to throw open a window, take off a layer or two of clothing, except that she was wearing the minimum—jeans and a lightweight turtleneck top.

But she refused to let the man see her sweat. Or blush. Unfortunately she could control neither.

“I demand to know what proof you have against my grandmother,” she said crisply.

“Uh, Hallie...” Granny called from the cell doors behind Hallie’s chair.

“Not now, Granny Pearl. The sheriff and I are discussing...evidence.”

“But, Hallie...”

Hallie ignored the warning tone in Granny Pearl’s voice. A mistake, she realized when she saw the smug smile displayed on Cam’s lips. He rocked back in his big chair, entirely too sure of himself.

“Proof, Ms. Cates?” he asked, definitely baiting her.

Hallie felt a slow trickle of perspiration zigzag its way into her cleavage. She had the distinct feeling she’d played right into the man’s hands. Was that what Granny Pearl had been trying to tell her? Was that feisty, ornery little old woman guilty after all?

No, Hallie wouldn’t believe it.

The man lowered the front legs of his chair to the floor with enough force to splinter wood. He reached for the lower desk drawer and yanked it open. “Proof Ms. Cates,” he said, extracting a jug of some sort from its interior.

The jug was tucked neatly inside a plastic bag, but even through the plastic Hallie could smell the contents.

Cam smiled. The woman seated beside his desk was turning a lovely shade of pink, and he found her intriguing. That signaled danger—danger he’d do well to heed. She was prettier than her picture, he decided. Much prettier, in a fragile, don’t touch sort of way. And damned if he didn’t want to touch.

Her long red locks fell in soft curls to her shoulders, tumbling in a too-tempting array of sun-kissed color. And scented—like warm outdoors, with a hint of apple blossoms. God, but he was sounding like a sentimental idiot. Maybe he’d been away from the harsh city streets too long; he was getting soft around the edges.

That had not been his plan when he’d left his past behind. He needed to maintain his edge, that hard streak he’d learned so well back in Chicago. Hell, the edge he’d been born with. It would be a real joke to be taken down by one tall, leggy woman, no matter how gorgeous she was.

Still, the look on Hallie Cates’s face told Cam she was the one who was vulnerable at the moment. He saw the shadow of doubt that drew her well-shaped eyebrows together in a frown of worry when he’d produced the “evidence”, the soft wrinkle of her nose at the smell emanating from the bottle he’d confiscated from Granny’s well-hidden still. He had Pearl Cates dead to rights.

Hallie stiffened in her chair and directed her pretty gaze at him. “I’m sure there’s some explanation, a reasonable one, one that will clear Granny of your so-called charges,” she said, though with more bravado than conviction to her voice.

Cam found himself feeling sorry for her. He cast a glance at Pearl who paced the floor of her cell, chewing on a fingernail. He only hoped she bit all ten to a nub before she got the peevish idea to rake those nails across his face. The woman was wicked, he already knew from her bite, and he rubbed the spot on his arm as a reminder not to tangle with the wiry five-foot-two woman in the future.

The gesture caught Hallie’s attention and she stared down at his injury, just below his rolled-up shirtsleeve. “What happened to your arm?” she asked with curiosity mingled with a certain wariness. “Those...those look like teeth marks.”

“And every one of ’em are mine,” Granny announced proudly from her cell. “How many seventy-year-olds can boast of having a full set?”