скачать книгу бесплатно
Man Behind The Badge
Pamela Toth
HAUNTED BY MEMORIES…Veterinarian Robin Marlowe moved to Colorado to put the past behind her. She had darn good reasons for not trusting men, especially good-looking flirts like sheriff Charlie Winchester. But the gorgeous hunk showed up everywhere she went–even when she tried to turn away.ONE OF THE GOOD GUYS…Charlie was paid to pick up clues, and after one look at Robin's creamy skin and wide eyes, he could tell she'd been hurt–badly. Charming every girl in Waterloo had never been a chore–until Robin. Now he was determined to be there for her, be patient, be her friend–be anything she needed…because this lawman wanted nothing less than her heart!
“I’m Charlie Winchester, your local sheriff,”
he said, touching two fingers to the brim of his hat. He flashed a smile that revealed straight white teeth and twin dimples. His dark eyes studied her with leisurely thoroughness from behind amber lenses.
“I’ll bet you’re the new vet.”
“How’d you guess?” Robin asked.
He folded his tanned, muscular arms across his chest. “It wasn’t a guess. You’ve got out-of-state plates and a rental trailer.”
“Pretty clever of you,” she replied dryly, taking a step back from all that hunky broad-shouldered masculinity before it gave her the vapors.
From inside the clinic, a phone rang and a dog barked.
“I gotta go,” she said, turning.
“My office is right down the street, if you need anything.”
She waved but didn’t look back. “Yeah, thanks. See you.”
Charlie stroked his chin thoughtfully as he watched her disappear. “Count on it, sweetheart.”
Dear Reader,
Our resolution is to start the year with a bang in Silhouette Special Edition! And so we are featuring Peggy Webb’s The Accidental Princess—our pick for this month’s READERS’ RING title. You’ll want to use the riches in this romance to facilitate discussions with your friends and family! In this lively tale, a plain Jane agrees to be the local Dairy Princess and wins the heart of the bad-boy reporter who wants her story…among other things.
Next up, Sherryl Woods thrills her readers once again with the newest installment of THE DEVANEYS—Michael’s Discovery. Follow this ex-navy SEAL hero as he struggles to heal from battle—and save himself from falling hard for his beautiful physical therapist! Pamela Toth’s Man Behind the Badge, the third book in her popular WINCHESTER BRIDES miniseries, brings us another stunning hero in the form of a flirtatious sheriff, whose wild ways are numbered when he meets—and wants to rescue—a sweet, yet reclusive woman with a secret past. Talking about secrets, a doctor hero is stunned when he finds a baby—maybe even his baby—on the doorstep in Victoria Pade’s Maybe My Baby, the second book in her BABY TIMES THREE miniseries. Add a feisty heroine to the mix, and you have an instant family.
Teresa Southwick delivers an unforgettable story in Midnight, Moonlight & Miracles. In it, a nurse feels a strong attraction to her handsome patient, yet she doesn’t want him to discover the real connection between them. And Patricia Kay’s Annie and the Confirmed Bachelor explores the blossoming love between a self-made millionaire and a woman who can’t remember her past. Can their romance survive?
This month’s lineup is packed with intrigue, passion, complex heroines and heroes who never give up. Keep your own resolution to live life romantically, with a treat from Silhouette Special Edition. Happy New Year, and happy reading!
Karen Taylor Richman
Senior Editor
Man Behind the Badge
Pamela Toth
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dedicated with appreciation and affection to my editor,
Karen Taylor Richman, for her support,
her understanding and—most of all—her patience,
above and beyond the call of duty.
PAMELA TOTH
USA TODAY bestselling author Pamela Toth was born in Wisconsin, but grew up in Seattle where she attended the University of Washington and majored in art. Now living on the Puget Sound area’s east side, she has two daughters, Erika and Melody, and two Siamese cats.
Recently she took a lead from one of her romances and married her high school sweetheart, Frank. They live in a town house within walking distance of a bookstore and an ice-cream shop, two of life’s necessities, with a fabulous view of Mount Rainier. When she’s not writing, she enjoys traveling with her husband, reading, playing FreeCell on the computer, doing counted cross-stitch and researching new story ideas. She’s been an active member of Romance Writers of America since 1982.
Her books have won several awards and they claim regular spots on the Waldenbooks bestselling romance list. She loves hearing from readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 5845, Bellevue, WA 98006. For a personal reply, a SASE is appreciated.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter One
With a sigh of relief, Robin Marlowe pulled up in front of a small box-shaped building at the outskirts of town and parked next to a dusty SUV with a dent in the side. The soda she’d gulped down when she stopped for gas at a truck stop back in Kansas was starting to make her squirm on the hot vinyl seat of her aging tan VW Rabbit. Her fingers were cramped around the wheel.
The faded sign beside the front door said Dr. Elliot Harmon, D.V.M. Specialty—Large Animals.
Dr. Harmon’s large-animal practice was the very reason Robin had traded the familiar crowds and chaos of Chicago for the empty Colorado plains, eerily silent but for the sound of the wind. She’d come to Waterloo in order to gain experience treating horses and cattle. She was looking forward to meeting her new boss almost as much as finding a rest room—if he hadn’t given up on her and hired someone else.
If he had, maybe he’d let her use the facilities anyway.
Robin blamed her delayed arrival on a broken water pump that had wrecked her budget as well as her schedule. According to the mechanic, whose rates were higher than her dentist’s back home, pulling the fully loaded utility trailer through the late-August heat had overtaxed her car’s small engine.
She probably should have called Doc Harmon to explain, but she’d figured it would be harder for him to fire her in person. Now she wasn’t so sure.
Robin had managed to extract herself from the sticky car seat without losing any skin from the backs of her thighs and was smoothing the wrinkles from her navy-blue skirt when the door of the clinic burst open.
“Dr. Marlowe?” demanded the elderly man hurrying toward her, a black leather bag gripped in one bony hand. Tall and lean as a coatrack, he was slightly stooped, his shock of white hair combed back from a thin face with a high forehead and a beaky nose. He was wearing a plaid sport shirt with sleeves that fluttered in the faint breeze and tan slacks that hung on his spare frame like cheap slipcovers.
“Yes, that’s me.” Robin removed her sunglasses and shielded her eyes against bright sunlight, bracing herself for bad news. “You must be—”
“Doc Harmon.” He gave her hand a quick, hard squeeze. “Glad to see you. I expected you yesterday, but no matter. I’ve got an emergency and my receptionist is out sick.” He gestured at the building behind him. “Can you man the phone till I get back?”
“Uh, I guess.” Her stomach fluttered with a mix of apprehension and relief. What if she messed up?
“Just take a message,” he said, heading for the SUV. “Tell ’em I’m out to Winchesters’ spread.” Without waiting for a reply, he opened the door and climbed in with surprising agility for someone his age.
Robin’s hand tightened on the shoulder strap of her purse as she watched him start the engine and lower the window. Perhaps he was too shorthanded to fire her just yet, but he still might.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, raising her voice. “My car—”
“You’re here now.” He barely spared her a glance as he backed up. “My cell phone number’s on the counter.”
Slightly dazed, Robin watched him drive away. She was hot, thirsty and nearly broke. She needed a bathroom, a place to stay and, thanks to the gold-plated water pump, an advance on her pay.
“Not much of a welcome, huh?”
The unexpected touch on her shoulder and the male voice at her ear startled a shriek out of her. She spun around to see a man wearing a shiny silver starred pinned to his khaki uniform shirt.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He flashed a smile that revealed straight white teeth and twin dimples. Only a nose that looked as if it must have been broken saved him from being entirely too handsome. “I’m Charlie Winchester, your local sheriff,” he added, touching two fingers to the brim of his hat.
“Uh, hi,” Robin managed, still a little shaken. Her nerves had been stretched tight during the long drive from Chicago, and her shoulders ached from hunching over the steering wheel since she’d left the shabby motel early this morning.
But wasn’t Winchester the name Doc Harmon had mentioned when he’d told her where he was headed? Did they own the town? She could hardly ask the sheriff, whose dark eyes studied her with leisurely thoroughness from behind amber lenses.
Robin knew what he’d see, a plain woman with black hair cut ruthlessly short and a face free of anything fancier than road dust. She wasn’t a girly girl, and she didn’t bother much with paints and perfumes. It irked her that she had to tip her head back in order to look at his face instead of his wide chest. She was small but wiry, and as her aunt Dot used to say, Robin was tall on the inside, where it counted.
Robin wasn’t so sure of that anymore, and her aunt was no longer around to ask.
“I’ll bet you’re the new vet,” the sheriff said as if he was prompting her to speak.
Robin’s tongue came unstuck, and she peeled it off the roof of her mouth. “How’d you guess?”
He folded his tanned, muscular arms across his chest. His hands, she noticed, were ringless. “It wasn’t a guess.” He feigned a hurt expression. “I get paid to know things. That’s why I’m the sheriff. Besides, you’ve got out-of-state plates, a rental trailer in tow and the doc expected you yesterday.”
“Pretty clever of you,” she replied dryly, taking a step back from all that hunky broad-shouldered masculinity before it gave her the vapors. Good manners kicked in, courtesy of her late aunt. “My name’s Robin Marlowe.”
His grin widened. “See, I was right. Reading clues is part of my job, that and chasing bad guys. There aren’t a lot of those in Waterloo, so I have time to greet newcomers, too.”
“Kind of like a welcoming committee packing heat,” she drawled, her gaze flicking to the imposing holster on his hip.
His eyes widened, but his laugh came easy. “Yes, ma’am, I guess you could say that.”
From inside the clinic, a phone started ringing and a dog began to bark.
“Oh, nuts,” she muttered, turning. “I gotta go.” She didn’t mind the interruption, but instead of ogling Sheriff Tex she should have been looking for the bathroom while she’d had the chance.
“Nice to meet you,” she called automatically over her shoulder as she hurried up the front steps.
“You, too, Doc Marlowe,” the sheriff replied. “My office is right down the street, if you need anything. It’s the one with the bars on the windows.”
She waved, but didn’t look back. “Yeah, thanks. See you.”
Charlie Winchester stroked his chin thoughtfully as he watched her disappear.
“Count on it, sweetheart,” he murmured. For such a little thing, she had legs like a colt—long and fine-boned. And lips a man could settle into like a featherbed, if they were anywhere near as lush as they looked.
Welcoming committee, huh? Checking out the new arrivals was part of his job, even the ones who weren’t cute as pixies and reportedly single like this new little gal. He’d better talk to her again, though, just to make sure she wasn’t really an escaped con or an illegal, impersonating the vet’s new helper in order to commit some nefarious crime in Charlie’s town.
He hadn’t meant to scare her when he’d touched her shoulder, but she’d gone as stiff as a calf stuck in a blizzard. The sight of his badge hadn’t seemed to relax her a bit. Her big brown eyes had stayed wary, without a spark of female awareness to warm them, and her mouth hadn’t softened. Despite the gun at Charlie’s hip, most women saw right away that he was no more threat than a six-foot teddy bear.
From eight months to eighty, he liked women, always had, and they usually liked him right back. Robin hadn’t seemed overly impressed, though, not even by his uniform, tailored and pressed at the local laundry, or his badge. It was something a couple of the local ladies still gushed over, as though they were picturing him wearing the star and not much else. Made a man darned uncomfortable, being looked at like that.
Robin Marlowe had captured his interest. No, his “professional concern,” he corrected himself, even though it was doubtful that Doc Harmon would hire an assistant with outstanding warrants or felonious intentions—even one compact enough for Charlie to easily scoop up and cuddle or whose short haircut exposed earlobes begging to be nibbled.
He hitched up his belt and eyed the clinic. The ringing of the phone had stopped while he stood in the street like a lovesick calf, but the dog’s rhythmic barking kept time with the sound of the new vet’s voice through the open doorway. It had a husky quality that hinted at smoky, dimly lit bars and honky-tonk women.
Curiously Charlie circled her car, a nondescript tan Rabbit with barely legal tires, Illinois plates and a utility trailer hitched behind it. On the back seat of the car rested a hard-sided suitcase like you’d find in a thrift shop, and several cardboard cartons. One was open and held books, probably veterinary tomes. The other boxes were taped shut. Behind the front seat was a pair of high rubber boots that looked new, an electric fan that didn’t, a coffeemaker and a cheap toaster, cords all neatly coiled. On the front passenger seat were an empty water bottle, two candy wrappers and a Colorado road map that had been refolded in correctly. Some kind of crystal dangled from the rearview mirror, its faceted surfaces sparkling in the sun light.
Charlie debated whether to go inside and ask her a few more questions, maybe see if she’d be interested in dinner or help in finding a place to stay, but the cell phone clipped to his belt chose that moment to claim his attention. Filing away his first impressions of Waterloo’s newest resident, he checked to see if a crime wave had just hit town.
Robin had been watching Sheriff Winchester through the front window of the clinic as she tried to explain to a suspicious-sounding older woman why she was answering Doc Harmon’s phone and not his “regular girl.”
“I don’t know where Erline is today,” Robin said for the third time, explaining again who she was and what had happened to the real vet. The term hadn’t exactly endeared the caller to Robin, but she resisted the urge to tell the old bat she had duct-taped the “real vet” and stuffed him in the supply closet just so she could have the thrill of this phone call. Curbing her tongue wasn’t easy, especially when the pressure in her bladder increased with each word.
By the time she’d taken a message and glanced outside, the sheriff had disappeared. After she’d found the bathroom and made use of it with a groan of relief, she did a bit of exploring.
The clinic was small but complete. In addition to the reception area, there were two examining rooms, a well-equipped surgery, a small lab and a supply room. Its only current occupant was the dog, a black lab mix with a bandaged leg, sitting in a roomy crate. When he saw Robin, his tail wagged, but he stopped barking and began whining instead. He wiggled so hard the cage shook. After she’d made sure he had water, she let him lick her fingers and she scratched his chin while he squeezed his dark eyes shut in obvious pleasure.
Typical male, she thought with a grin. Noisy and easy to satisfy.
As if she knew anything about satisfying a male, or wanted to. Her grin faded as fast as it had appeared.
Despite her fatigue, she was eager to get settled and start working. Doc Harmon had promised to find her a rental she could afford, but she didn’t have an ad dress, and of course she couldn’t leave until he got back. There wasn’t anything she could really do here until he showed her around, and she was hesitant to poke through his files, so she went back to the reception area and sat down at the big desk. There was a phone with two lines, thankfully silent, but no computer, which didn’t surprise her. With a sigh she started flipping idly through the open appointment book. Nothing scheduled until late afternoon and no telling how long Erline would be out sick, so she might as well get familiar with the setup.
Charlie didn’t need to follow the faint track through the grass to find the pasture where the two owners of the Running W had said they’d meet him. The land was as familiar as the face he saw in the mirror, and the men nearly so. He’d spent his youth on the Running W, chasing after his older brothers, Adam and Travis, and working beside them.
Topping a rise, Charlie spotted them standing with the vet near their rigs and several mounds that appeared to be sleeping cattle.
A chill went through Charlie. His hands tightened on the wheel of his Jeep as he struggled to replace a rancher’s sick dismay with the objectivity of a lawman.
No one had been more surprised than Charlie when he’d beaten out a bully and a green kid to win the election ten months before, and not everyone was happy about it, considering his reputation as a skirt-chasing lightweight who’d been riding along on his brothers’ coattails. He’d discovered a knack for the job, equal parts politician, paper pusher and crime solver, but he knew convincing his detractors would take time.
