The Sheriff Gets His Lady. Dani Sinclair

okay. I’ll talk to Marvin when I’m through here.”

      “Need a lift home?”

      He shook his head and his tone gentled. “No, thanks. The truck got me here, it will get me back. I’ve got chili in the slow cooker. You can do the salad, but don’t let Limpet con you into any more green pepper. It gives him gas.”

      She grinned impishly. Sky’s heart turned over as she recognized the look. Her own mother had often given it to Sky many times over the years.

      “I won’t, Dad.”

      “I should be home in an hour.”

      “Okay.” With a curious glance at Sky, she pulled away.

      Sky drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stasis that had held her so silent. In that brief exchange, she had learned everything she’d wanted to know about her daughter’s relationship with her adoptive father. Their loving bond was almost a tangible thing.

      The jagged pain that razored its way through her had its roots sunk deep in jealousy. She stared after Lauren with a longing that brought the sting of tears to her eyes once more.

      Noah turned to find the woman watching Lauren drive away with an expression he couldn’t define, but one that instantly raised new alarms. He no longer felt indulgent, nor would he allow the chemistry between them to interfere any further.

      “I’ll see your identification now,” he said briskly.

      He sensed a moment of apprehension, then her hand slid quickly inside her briefcase. Belatedly, his training kicked in. He reached back toward his weapon.

      “Hold it!”

      She raised her face, the hair parting smoothly away from creamy smooth skin. “What?”

      “Bring your hand back out real slow.”

      Her mouth opened in an O of surprise. With a jerky nod, she slowly withdrew her hand. Her fingers clutched a black leather wallet.

      “Set the briefcase on the hood of your car.”

      She complied without a word, but she was trembling. He ignored a momentary desire to reassure her.

      “Now take your driver’s license from the wallet.”

      Her fingers shook just the tiniest bit as she fumbled to remove the license. A business card fell to the ground at his feet. With a darting movement, she scooped it quickly, but he glimpsed the gilt lettering on the front and made out the word investigator. His chest felt hollow as she stuffed the card back inside the wallet, looking guilty as sin.

      “Here, Sheriff.”

      She was careful not to touch him as she handed him her driver’s license. Noah scanned the plastic card while keeping part of his attention on her. He wished he had his radio. He had no way to run her license. And he was definitely going to run it.

      “Skylar Diamond?” he asked suspiciously. The picture wasn’t flattering, but it was her. The name sounded as phony as her story about being a fashion designer.

      “My mother thought it had a dramatic ring to it.”

      “What did your father think?”

      Her shoulders lifted and fell. “I have no idea. He didn’t stick around long enough for me to meet him.”

      Chagrined, he couldn’t think of an answer to that. He wished she’d take off those glasses. You could tell a lot about a person from their eyes. Noah studied the New York address. He wasn’t familiar with the city, but he thought the location sounded uptown. The high-rent district would certainly go with her outfit, which was as out of place here in Darwin Crossing as the woman herself.

      “Is this your current residence?”

      “Yes.”

      But he’d caught her momentary hesitation. Was she lying? Or did she simply not want to answer his questions?

      “Where are you staying here in Texas?”

      “A rooming house in Bitterwater.”

      “Why?”

      She cocked her head to the side. “Why what?”

      “What are you doing in this part of Texas, Ms. Diamond?”

      “I told you. I’m here to—”

      “Get inspiration for a winter line of clothing? I don’t think so.”

      “It’s the truth,” she insisted stubbornly.

      “Then what do you want with my daughter?”

      She sucked in a startled breath. “I...don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      His jaw firmed. She was lying. That made it real easy for him to overlook her beauty and any attraction he felt toward her.

      “According to my sources, you’ve been hanging around town for two days now, watching Lauren. I want to know why.”

      Instantly, she bristled. “I don’t know who told you that....”

      Her voice trailed off as her head turned. Alma stood against the nearby building watching them, hands crossed over her chest while she rocked back and forth on the heels of her boots.

      “Ah. The town watchdog, I suppose.”

      Noah didn’t respond. He could almost see the woman’s mind at work. He’d give a lot to be able to read the individual thoughts.

      “All right, Sheriff. I was watching your daughter. But I didn’t know she was your daughter.”

      Another lie? He couldn’t be sure.

      “I saw her in town the other day and wondered if she’d be interested in doing some modeling.”

      His gut tensed. The story was plausible given the way she dressed and acted, yet her body language was all wrong. One hand flexed nervously against her side. The other gripped her wallet tightly.

      “Modeling,” he said softly, as if he’d never heard the term before.

      Her fingers stilled. She drew in a breath. “Yes, modeling. You know, where a person wears designer clothing for the purpose of displaying said clothing to others.”

      He’d give her points for a quick rally.

      “Your daughter would be perfect for the line I have in mind.”

      “I thought you designed the clothing. Don’t tell me you also hire your own models.”

      “I do when I see a young woman who would do justice to them,” she argued. “She’s tall, willowy, blond, the perfect image of a young, upcoming executive. She’d make an excellent model.”

      “Over my dead body.”

      Noah heard a murmur of assent. He glanced around and saw that Alma had been joined by two of her cronies. Great. They were starting to draw a small crowd.

      “I’m going to ask you to step over to my office, Ms. Diamond. The red brick building across the street.”

      She tensed. “Am I under arrest?”

      “Not yet.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “It means I want to run your identification through the computer. I’m asking for your cooperation.”

      “And if I refuse?”

      “Then I’ll have to insist.”

      Her lips tightened. She tossed her head in the direction of the onlookers. Alma looked smugly satisfied.

      “Very well, Sheriff.” She reached for her briefcase.

      “I’ll get that,” he told her quickly. “Head for that red brick building across the