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“That’s true.” Sam planted a hand against the wall on either side of her. “But not everyone takes off in their wedding dress in the midst of what will soon be a blizzard—”
Nora interrupted hotly, in self-defense. “I didn’t know it was going to snow!”
Sam looked down at her as if he found that very hard to swallow. He shook his head wordlessly and leaned in even closer. “How could you not have known that?” he asked, very, very softly, the heat of his body emanating to hers.
Nora flushed and responded wryly, “Because, Mr. I-Gotta-Have-All-the-Answers, I wasn’t listening to the weather reports this morning, or last night, for that matter!”
“Why not?” His voice was hushed, seductive, his breath warm on her skin, as he placed his hands on the bare curves of her shoulders and forced her to look up at him.
Nora ignored the sensual feeling of his palms on her bare skin. They were slightly chapped and callused, as though he knew firsthand the value of hard physical work, but tender, too, as if he knew how to love. Irritated with herself—after all, she had no business thinking like that!—Nora shook off the sensual image of her body, in his hands.
“Because I had a ton of other important things to do!” she answered, with a regal toss of her head. “I had to get up early and shower and go to the hairdresser, and then over to the church, to dress and get my official wedding portrait done.” She stopped and bit her lip, aware that he was suddenly looking very much as though he wanted to do a whole lot more than simply hold her in front of him. He wanted to kiss her! Not just once, but probably again and again and again!
Sam grinned and lifted a skeptical golden-brown brow. “Are you saying the rest of your wedding party didn’t know it was going to snow, either?”
“Maybe not.” Nora swallowed around the sudden tightness of her throat. Looking deep into Sam’s eyes, she could almost believe he wanted only to help her. “After all, the snowstorm is not supposed to hit Pi—uh…” She made a strangled sound, as she realized she’d inadvertently said far too much, and cut herself off in midsentence.
“Pittsburgh?” Sam supplied, his hands following the curve of her shoulders and caressing her bare arms.
Nora glared at him defiantly and tried to ignore the enticing scent that was him. “What makes you think the wedding was supposed to take place in Pittsburgh?”
“The license plates on your car,” Sam replied, looking so abruptly earnest and helpful and forth right, it was all she could do not to melt into the warmth of his embrace.
“Also,” he said frankly, “the geography fits. If the wedding was supposed to take place sometime this morning, as I am guessing it was, you had time to drive from Pittsburgh down to West Virginia. You did not have time to drive from, say, New York City to West Virginia since this morning.”
She stared at him, the concern on his face unnerving her more than she wanted to admit. “You noticed the plates on my car?” she asked, feeling the color drain from her face. That meant he could trace her origins quicker than she could say “One-two-three.” And from there go directly to her father and Geoff!
Sam shrugged and, dropping his hands from her shoulders, stepped back slightly. “I’m a lawman,” he explained matter-of-factly. “I’m trained to notice everything.”
And that seemed to go triple where she was concerned, Nora thought, her insides in explicably heating all the more.
Nora sighed. Maybe this initial mix-up wasn’t as bad as she’d thought—especially if it kept her from being traced back to her father and Geoff. She studied Sam. “You don’t think I’m engaged to your brother,” she stated, rather than asked.
“You know I don’t,” Sam replied with a seductive half grin.
“Why not?” Nora demanded, shocked to find things suddenly going her way. Or were they? “Everyone else does.”
Sam shrugged his impossibly broad shoulders and kept his eyes on hers. “You’re not his type,” Sam said, in a very low, very definite tone of voice.
His confidence in his ability to analyze and understand her was supremely irritating, as was the way she melted at his slightest touch or look. Nora cautioned herself to keep her defenses up or suffer the consequences.
“Oh, really.” Nora bristled at the sexy stranger who was fast proving to be her nemesis. “Then whose type am I?” she demanded archly.
Sam hooked an arm about her waist and pulled her into the tantalizing warmth of his embrace. “Mine.”
Chapter Three
“YOU’RE NOT JUST NOSY,” Nora sputtered. “You’re nuts!”
Sam grinned victoriously, his hot glance skimming her from head to toe. “Can I help it if I know what I want?”
“You also know I was supposed to get married today.”
“And yet, when you talk about not getting married,” he scoffed, using the arm anchored around her waist to bring her even closer, “you look nothing but relieved.”
“So maybe my fiancé was not my Mr. Right,” Nora theorized hotly.
He grinned at her display of temper, his glance taking in the bare curves of her shoulders before returning with sensual deliberation to her eyes. He stared at her with taunting intensity. “And maybe in running away the way you did, even if it was at the very last minute, you stopped yourself from making the biggest mistake of your life.”
Suffused with heat everywhere Sam’s eyes had gazed, as well as everywhere they had not, Nora swallowed. She wished she was wearing anything but this beaded white satin wedding dress, with its flirtatiously full skirt and long, closely fitted drop sleeves and bosom-revealing neckline.
Determined not to let Sam get the better of her, in conversation or anything else, she made herself take a tranquilizing breath.
“As it happens,” Nora told Sam, glad at last that someone understood she’d prevented a mistake in running away, not made one, “that’s precisely what I did.”
Slowly he lowered his face to hers. His golden-brown eyes glittered rapaciously. “Then I’ve got nothing to worry about, even if your groom does show up here to reclaim you, do I?” he asked in a soft, silken voice.
Fighting the electric heat Sam’s touch elicited, Nora relaxed slightly in the comforting cradle of his arms. “I don’t think he’ll come after me,” Nora replied sadly. “And even if he did, it wouldn’t make any difference.”
“Good.” Satisfaction filled his eyes as he dropped one hand from around her back and lifted her chin to his.
“Why do you say that?”
Still gazing deep into her eyes, he curved his hand around her cheek and chin. “Because I’m old enough to know that chemistry like this comes but once in a lifetime, and I want my own chance with you,” he said softly.
Nora threw up her hands. She’d never met anyone more persistent. Furthermore, she knew by the confident, controlled way Sam held himself that he would never be satisfied unless he held the upper hand. And wasn’t that what she was trying to get away from? Men who would rule her life?
“Don’t you care that I’m on the rebound?” She pushed the words through clenched teeth, finding it hard to hang on to her cool.
Sam merely grinned from ear to ear. “Are you?” Sam asked, leaning forward. As he did so, his lips touched her temple. “’Cause I could’ve sworn by the way you’ve been acting today that you never really loved this Mr. Wrong of yours in the first place.” He paused and looked deep into her eyes.
He hadn’t even tried to kiss her lips, though he could have, and he was merely touching her face, yet Nora’s nipples tightened painfully beneath her lacy bridal corset. Lower still, there was a definite pressure building, and a new weakness in her knees. And the startling desire to feel his lips on hers—not just in a momentary experiment, but in a passionate explosion of feeling that went on…well, indefinitely.
And that, Nora thought, was crazy. She didn’t even know this man! Furthermore, she was not the kind of woman who could be swept off her feet. Not ever. And yet it appeared, she thought as she drew a shaky breath, that Sam Whittaker was doing just that.
“You didn’t love him, did you?” Sam probed.
Nora’s eyes widened at the low, masculine promise in his voice. “N-no,” she said as color poured into the high, sculpted planes of her face.
“Good,” Sam replied in a low, gravelly voice. “Then that’s all I need to know,” he said, pulling her against him. He threaded one hand through her hair. His lips grazed hers, tenderly at first, then with building passion. Nora was engulfed by so many sensations and feelings at once. The woodsy scent of him, the minty taste of his mouth. His lips were sure and sensual, his body was hard and warm. The man knew how to kiss! Knew how to draw a thrilling, incredibly sensual response from her, the kind she had read about but never really dreamed existed. And it was only then, when Nora realized what Sam had done to her, in getting her to respond that way to him, that he slowly drew back.
Not sure she could stand unassisted, Nora wreathed her arms about his shoulders and held on tight. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she could barely catch her breath as she stared up at him.
He looked down at her, breathing just as erratically, appearing just as stunned, just as pleased. He smiled at her then, ever so softly and reluctantly, released his grip on her. “You’re free now.”
Nora blinked up at him dizzily, aware that she’d never felt more lovestruck than she did at that moment. “To love again?” she asked.
Sam ran his fingertips down the open wedge of the back of her gown, eliciting another series of tingles—and the realization that her trouble some zipper was no longer jammed. “To get out of the dress.”
“Oh.” Embarrassed at the unspeakably ardent direction of her thoughts, Nora started to step away from the dressing room wall.
Sam planted a hand on either side of her and leaned in close. “But don’t give up on the other,” he told her softly. “You’re free to do that, too.”
Looking deep into Sam’s eyes, Nora could almost believe that it was all that simple. She wanted Sam—at least for now; she should have him. But common sense prevailed, telling her this was not the type of diversion she should be allowing herself, not when she still had so much about her life to sort out. Like where she was going to live, and how she was going to get her father to listen to her and stop meddling in her life. And she had to do all that without completely destroying the only familial relationship she had left in her life in the process.
Determined to put first things first, Nora flattened a hand across Sam’s chest and pressed against the solid male warmth. But before she could speak, the pager attached to his belt began a steady, insistent beep.
The edges of Sam’s mouth tightened into a frown. As he reached down to turn off the pager, his eyes met hers. “Guess I’ll see you later,” he drawled.
Nora sighed. Whether it was wise or not, she had been afraid that would be the case.
WHEN NORA CAME OUT of the dressing room some fifteen minutes later, her wedding gown folded and looped over her arms, the crowd in Whittakers had barely thinned. People were still lined up in droves, purchasing gloves, hats and snow boots, chatting excitedly about the three or so inches of snow that were now on the ground.
Before Nora could do more than smile a hello at another group of curious townspeople, her wedding dress was taken from her—for drying and pressing, Clara said—and she was introduced all around. As a “special friend” of Gus’s. After which the conversation promptly returned to—what else?—the weather, and the effect it was likely to have on the town in the days to come.
“I hope this storm doesn’t interfere with our silent auction for the EMS Fund,” Wynnona Kendrick, the florist, said.
“We’re saving up for a new ambulance,” Doc Ellen explained to Nora as her five-year-old daughter, Katie, tried to decide between two pairs of insulated ski mittens. “We’ve been working on it for almost a year, and so far we’ve only raised five thousand dollars. Unless we can find a way to raise money more quickly, at the rate we’re going it’ll take us five more years to get one.”
“What are you auctioning off?” Nora asked, wondering if there was any way she could be of help.
“Quilts, crafts, paintings, homemade jams, candies, hand crafted furniture and cookbooks. You name it, we’ll probably have it over at the high school gym come Wednesday evening,” Doc Ellen replied, putting the mittens Katie had selected on the counter for ringing up.
“Unless the snow still has the roads impassable,” Clara Whittaker interjected, with a worried look.
“In which case, we’ll simply delay it.” Doc Ellen searched Nora’s face. “You’ll come, won’t you?”
“Sure, if I’m still here,” Nora promised. If not, I’ll make a donation. She smiled, adding, “It sounds like a worthy cause.”
“It is. And it’ll be fun, too, ’cause we’ve got the whole community involved.” Silence fell.
Afraid the talk was going to turn to her canceled wedding again, Nora asked, “Where did Sam go?” And why did she have the feeling he could save her from all this?
“Fender bender at the high school,” Harold Whittaker replied, as he rang up a pair of long johns for a customer. “No one hurt, and only one car involved, but there’s a stop sign and park bench that used to be in better shape. Why?” Sam’s grandfather peered at her curiously from over the rim of his old-fashioned spectacles. “Did you need to talk to Sam?”
What Nora needed was to find out whether her father and Geoffrey had set up the alarm for her in West Virginia. If they had, it was probably through the police departments of the state. And the key to that information was Sam. “Yes, I do,” she replied.
“Well, he should be back in the sheriff’s office soon.” Harold smiled warmly. “If you want to go over there and wait on him, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
SAM GOT BACK to the office seconds before Nora breezed in.
“So, this is what a small-town sheriff’s office looks like,” Nora said breathlessly as she tugged her mittens off with her teeth, unfastened the wooden toggle buttons on her coat and took a moment to look around.
While Sam watched Nora with the same unabashed curiosity with which she was studying everything else, Nora’s glance moved quickly over the two battered oak desks, set several feet apart, and several black metal file cabinets in the small square room.
She paused before a computer and printer, looked over the bulletin board covered with Wanted posters, the fax machine and copier. If she noted that the equipment was more functional than state-of-the-art, she made no comment. And, instead, turned her attention to the enormous shortwave radio system that Sam and the other deputies used to communicate with each other and other law enforcement agencies around the state.
Finished with her survey of the reception area and office that spanned the front of the brick building, Nora peeked out the doorway, into the hall that ran the length of the middle of the building. She turned back to Sam. “May I?” He nodded.
There was no one else there. It wouldn’t hurt for her to look around. Everyone else in town had, at one time or another.
He followed her past the rest rooms and the soda and coffee machines, to the single jail cell, with its two cots. Both were unoccupied, as was usually the case.
Nora studied the metal cots, which were outfitted with white cotton sheets and blue wool blankets, then turned back to Sam. Together, they walked out into the front office again.
“I’m surprised,” Nora murmured, as she took off her green wool parka and hung it on the tree rack next to the door. “I didn’t expect so much modern equipment.”
Sam hadn’t expected Nora to look every bit as ravishingly beautiful in a white shirt, pewter-gray sweater and jeans as she had in her elegantly beaded white satin wedding dress.
“I had to fight for every piece of it.”
She flashed him an appreciative smile. “You must’ve been pleased to get it,” she said.
“I was. It’s hard to do my job effectively without it.”
Nora’s glance moved once again to the Wanted notices on the bulletin board as Sam assumed a seat. “What sort of things do you get on the fax?” she asked.
Sam kicked back in his chair and propped his feet on the edge of his desk. “Between the insurance companies and the state and federal government, there’s never any shortage of paper work. And, of course, notices from other law enforcement agencies.”
“Is your computer connected into the Internet?” Nora asked.
Sam nodded, his mind drifting back to the kiss they’d shared in the dressing room over at Whittakers. He knew he’d been out of line, putting the moves on her so quickly, but with her leaving as soon as the blizzard blew over, he had to act fast. Besides, he had wanted to put the considerable sparks flying between them to the test, and considering the white-hot intensity of their embrace, he wasn’t sorry he had.
Noting Nora was still waiting for an answer, Sam said, “Yes, we’re hooked up to the Net, as well as an information system that lets me interact with other law enforcement agencies via computer.”
Nora paled slightly. “I see.”
She seemed edgy, nervous. Why, he wasn’t sure. Unless she was worried he was going to kiss her again? Sam stood. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Sure, of course.”
He studied her, knowing something was up. Moved closer. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Oh, well, your grandparents wanted you to know—what with the snow coming down harder now—that they were closing the store an hour early this evening and would be going home around five. I volunteered to come over and tell you. Plus, I wanted to see a little of the town while I could still walk around.”
Sam looked out the window. “It’s coming down pretty good now, isn’t it?”
Nora nodded. Though the brunt of the blizzard still seemed seven or eight hours away, it had really started to pick up in the past hour or so. She’d heard on the car radio that it was now snowing steadily in Kentucky, Maryland, Pennsylvania and New York state and that “record blizzard” conditions had virtually shut down all roads in the mountains of Virginia. If the forecasters were right, it would soon be that bad here, too. “I’d say we have at least four inches on the ground now,” she said. And the latest forecast indicated their area of West Virginia might get sleet and ice, too. Sleet and ice knocked out power lines.
The phone rang. Sam reluctantly tore his eyes from Nora’s face and picked up the receiver. “Sheriff’s office.” He listened, and was clearly not happy with the report on the other end. “I’ll be right down,” he promised, then hung up.
“Another wreck?” Nora asked curiously as he reached for his shearling coat and shrugged it on.
Sam searched for his keys and finally found them on his desk, beneath the state accident report he’d started to fill out before Nora walked in. “Worse. Domestic disturbance,” he explained as Nora sauntered closer, her eyes glued to his. Sam grimaced, wishing he had time for another kiss, then continued explaining. “Clyde Redmond is down at the hardware store trying to buy a snow shovel, and his wife Charlene is there with him, pitching a fit.”
Nora blinked, still not understanding. She watched as he retrieved his Stetson and adjusted the brim low across his brow. “She has something against her husband shoveling snow?”
Sam nodded, explaining, “And with good reason, since Clyde had his first heart attack two months ago, doing just that.” He brushed a hand down her cheek, gave her one last lingering glance and strode out the door. “Hold down the fort here,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
