The Sheriff And The Impostor Bride. Elizabeth Bevarly

blushing, she nodded again, way too quickly for Riley’s comfort. But she said nothing.

      “Excuse me for doubting your word, ma’am, but seems to me this is the time of year when most folks want to be close to their loved ones, not get away from it all.”

      She lifted her chin a defensive fraction of an inch. “Yes, well, I think that probably depends on one’s relationship with one’s loved ones, doesn’t it?”

      He studied her in silence for a minute, unsure whether to believe her or not on that particular score. So he dropped that line of questioning and returned to his first. “That still doesn’t explain why you’ve been reported missing. If not from Freemont Springs, then from Oklahoma City.”

      She gazed at him blankly. “Well, my goodness, Sheriff. Lots of people are missing from Oklahoma City. I’d venture to say that there are a lot of people out there who’ve never even visited Oklahoma City. If you have to round up everyone missing from Oklahoma City, then you better hurry and be on your way.”

      Ignoring her sarcasm, Riley said, “It’s not my job to round up everyone missing from Oklahoma City, ma’am, only the people who’ve been reported missing. And the Wentworth family of Freemont Springs has reported you missing. It’s my job to find you and let them know where you are.”

      She paused for a very telling moment before asking, “Who are the Wentworths?”

      “Who are the Wentworths?” he echoed. Well, hell, she should know that better than him. She was the one they were looking for.

      “I don’t know anyone by the name of Wentworth,” she said. “sorry.”

      He sighed. “You’ve been living in Oklahoma City for years, and you don’t know who the Wentworths are?”

      She shook her head.

      He wasn’t sure whether or not to believe her on that score. The Wentworths were plenty famous in the state, but he supposed there were a good number of people who might not know about them, especially if they weren’t Oklahoma natives. So, for now, Riley decided to play along, just to see how far Miss Sabrina Jensen was willing to play whatever little game she was playing.

      “Wentworth,” he repeated, enunciating the word a bit more clearly, a little more loudly, in case there really was something wrong with her hearing.

      But she only continued to gaze at him tepidly, as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

      So Riley continued, “Joseph Wentworth is a big ol’ oil baron in Freemont Springs, which is not too far from Tulsa. Now, you do know where Tulsa is, don’t you?”

      Miss Jensen nodded, smiling eagerly. “Oh, yes. In fact, I have a—”

      Abruptly, she stopped talking, her eyes widening in panic, as if she’d been about to reveal something she shouldn’t. Riley waited to see if she’d continue, but she only snapped her mouth shut tight and said nothing more.

      “You have a what?” he prodded her.

      “Nothing.”

      “Oh, come on now, Miss Jensen, you were about to say you had a...what...in Tulsa?”

      “A, uh...” she hedged. “An elderly aunt. Aunt Wisteria. She lives in Tulsa.”

      “Hoo-kay,” he said. Might as well just get on with it. “The Wentworth family,” he continued for Miss Jensen, “is real rich, and real famous—or maybe real infamous is a better way to put it. In any case, they’re real popular, real well-known folks. They run Wentworth Oil Works. That ring a bell?”

      In response, all Miss Jensen did was squint her eyes a little, as if she were immersing herself in thought, searching the data banks of her brain for the slightest inkling of familiarity. Riley shook his head at what he suspected was a monumentally fake effort, but continued on with his story in the hopes of jogging her memory—or wrangling the truth out of her—for what good it would do.

      “Old Joseph Wentworth pretty much raised two grandsons and a granddaughter after their parents were killed in a boating accident, oh...years and years ago. They have a big, beautiful house in Freemont Springs. Rich folks, like I said. Powerful. Stand tall in the community. You following me?”

      Another nod from Miss Jensen, but nothing otherwise.

      “Everyone in that part of Oklahoma knows about the Went-worths,” Riley continued. “Their activities are covered in the papers and on local TV all the time. I’d even wager to say that folks in Oklahoma City are pretty much aware of the Wentworths of Wentworth Oil Works in one way or another. Even the newcomers. Yet, you’re telling me you’ve never heard of them?”

      Miss Jensen’s eyebrows arrowed downward as she processed this information—or at least pretended to. He was about to call her on her pretense when her expression cleared, and she lifted a hand to smack her open palm against her forehead. Hard.

      “Oh, those Wentworths,” she said.

      Somehow, he managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Yeah. Those Wentworths.”

      “I’m sorry. I thought you were talking about some other Wentworths.”

      Other Wentworths, he muttered to himself. Yeah, right. “So you don’t know the Wentworths personally?”

      She shook her head.

      “Well, the Wentworths sure know you. They’re all het up to find you.”

      Sabrina Jensen shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea why they’d be looking for me. And as you can see, I’m perfectly fine, so...” She reached for the doorknob. “Will that be all, Sheriff?”

      “Not quite.”

      She expelled an exasperated breath and tucked her hand back under her other arm. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

      “That makes two of us.”

      Riley inhaled deeply as he studied Miss Sabrina Jensen’s face again. Big mistake, he realized immediately. Because the moment he started looking at her, he found that he didn’t want to stop. No woman should have eyes that beautiful, that compelling, that hypnotic. A woman could do a man serious damage with eyes like those. And this woman had clearly tangled intimately with at least one man recently, given the state of her womb. Who knew what she’d done to the poor sap?

      Or what the not-so-poor sap had done to her.

      Automatically, his gaze dropped to her left hand, where he saw no ring. Unmarried. Aha. It hit Riley then that maybe Miss Jensen was missing on purpose, because she didn’t want to be found. Especially by the Wentworths of Freemont Springs, Oklahoma. There was a father for that baby of hers out there somewhere, a father who hadn’t yet married her. And Joseph Wentworth had a grandson. Even the older Wentworth boy might have fathered that baby before he died. Hell, for all Riley knew, maybe Joseph himself had a personal stake in finding Miss Jensen. Who knew what the particulars of her situation were?

      “Miss Jensen,” he began again, “do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

      “I thought you already had, Sheriff.”

      He nodded. “Yeah, but your answers to those only roused a whole bunch more that we need to talk about.”

      Without giving her time to answer, Riley settled his Stetson onto the settee beside him, tugged off his gloves and stuffed them into his coat pockets, then began to unbutton his coat. Miss Jensen opened her mouth to say something, seemed to think better of whatever it was, then closed it again. So he shed his coat and dropped it beside his hat, then he joined both on the settee and made himself comfortable. He slung his arm over the back, crossed his ankle over his knee, and met her gaze levelly.

      Miss Jensen only stood staring back at him, as if she were trying to analyze him cell by cell. Those gorgeous green eyes of hers pinned him in place and held him there, assessing him, cataloging him, mesmerizing him. Riley began to feel as if he were a bug under a