What If We Fall in Love?. Teresa Southwick

      

      “What can I do for you?”

      Her eyes darkened to a shade of hunter green. “You can tell me what my dead husband’s brother has to do with you and your children.”

      He felt like he’d been sucker punched. “What are you talking about?”

      “The rumor is that Billy Bob Adams is the one suing you for custody of the girls…. Is it true?”

      She wasn’t going to let it drop. She was going to force him to tell her something that would rock her world.

      He let out a long breath. “Okay. You want it straight?”

      “That’s what I just said. Why would my dead husband’s brother sue for custody of your children?”

      “Because he’s their uncle, Jen. Your dead husband is the twins’ biological father.”

      What If We Fall in Love?

      Teresa Southwick

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      TERESA SOUTHWICK

      is a native Californian who has been transplanted to Texas. Having lived with her husband of twenty-five-plus years and two handsome sons, she has been surrounded by heroes for a long time. Reading has been her passion since she was a girl. She couldn’t be more delighted that her dream of writing full-time has come true. Her favorite things include: holding a baby, the fragrance of jasmine, walks on the beach, the patter of rain on the roof and, above all, happy endings.

      Teresa has also written historical romance novels under the same name.

      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

      Epilogue

      Chapter One

      There was something about a man in uniform. And Sheriff Grady O’Connor was definitely something.

      Jensen Stevens didn’t expect to notice. She couldn’t remember the last time a good-looking guy had gotten her attention. But as the sheriff moseyed up the bleacher stairs at the north Texas high school rodeo championships, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. After years in suspended animation her feminine radar suddenly switched on to signal a hunk at four o’clock.

      Grady was a local rancher as well as Destiny’s acting sheriff. It was disconcerting that once he’d snagged her attention, she couldn’t seem to disengage. She wondered if he looked as good in cowboy duds as he did in his lawman ensemble. His short-sleeved tan shirt and matching khaki pants with the brown-and-beige stripe down the leg suited him to a T. No doubt about it—he was walking, talking hero material.

      This was only the second time she could remember her heart skipping a beat at the sight of a man. The first was a decade ago and she’d married him.

      “Hello, Counselor.” Grady sat his long, lanky self down beside her.

      “Hello, Sheriff.” A loud crackling came over the public address system. “Sounds like they’re having trouble with the mike.”

      “Yeah.”

      He removed his dark brown Stetson and ran splayed fingers through his short, military-style brown hair. After propping his boot on the bench in front of him, he rested his forearm on a thickly muscled thigh and tapped his hat against his leg. His uniform looked freshly pressed, in spite of the evening heat and humidity typical of Texas in June. The shirt hugged the contours of his impressive chest and detailed his attention-getting physique. Reflector aviator sunglasses were tucked into one of his pockets.

      “Long time no see,” she said.

      “Not that long. I saw you four days ago. On the first day of the championships when you rolled back into Destiny in that sweet BMW convertible.”

      “Okay. But not since then.” At least, not close enough to stake out her comfort zone. Like now. She’d only seen him from a distance, taking care of rodeo security.

      In high school they’d hung out in the same group of kids who rodeoed. Then life intervened and they’d gone their separate ways. Since they’d reacquainted several days before, she hadn’t really thought about him. Apparently distance was her friend. Because now she couldn’t help thinking he was like an allergic reaction. The first exposure had produced a mild warning. The second—watch out.

      Grady was not hard on her eyes with his well-shaped nose, nice mouth, soft-looking lips not too thin or too thick. His jaw was square and rugged the way a guy’s jaw should be. He was a man who would turn female heads wherever he went. The rodeo was being held on her sister’s ranch and Jensen had been a spectator every night since arriving. She was grateful that, until now, she hadn’t spectated much of the sexy sheriff.

      “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

      “Yeah. I like watching,” She cleared her throat. “It’s fun to observe the high school kids interact with each other. I can’t believe I was ever that age.”

      “Right. You’re practically ready for assisted living at Leisure Village.”

      She laughed, then smoothed her palms over the skirt of her floral cotton sundress that didn’t come close to covering her knees. When she saw him glance in that direction, she very much wished she’d worn jeans and boots.

      “You know what I mean.”

      “Yeah,” he said.

      She looked back at the arena where the John Deere tractor was smoothing the dirt for the last three events of the championships.

      “I do get nervous for the competitors,” she admitted. “I heard an announcement that sounded like Mitch Rafferty was going to hold a spur-of-the-moment bull-riding seminar,” she said, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten inside her.

      “I heard it, too. That event is coming up.”

      Jensen met his laserlike blue gaze and knew he was warning her. And she knew why. “Ten years ago tonight Zach won the event.” Then he’d asked her to run away with him and get married.

      “Yeah, how could I forget.”

      She’d agreed and followed the professional rodeo circuit with the man she had loved. They’d had one year together. Then he’d taken a kick to the head and been killed instantly at a rodeo in Las Vegas.

      The following nine years had been profoundly painful. Only work had helped. College classes and then law school had taken the edge off her acute loneliness. Now she just had her memories, and that was enough. She wouldn’t take another chance. She would never hurt like that again.

      Grady rubbed his index finger over the crown of his hat. “After intermission there’s pole bending then barrel racing. Last is bull-riding,” he said, studying her intently. “Mitch was national champion. He’s a good one to give the kids pointers—to avoid mistakes that could cause injuries.”

      Lord, she hoped that wasn’t pity she saw in Grady’s eyes. She didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for her.