curious, interested and friendly because you’re a stunning, sexy woman. They were curious about you, not the old Wrenville place.”
“Thank you. But I didn’t get the feeling from any of them that someone would prefer that I didn’t put Lavita Wrenville’s story on my show. Did it occur to you that you might be wrong?”
“I know my town pretty well. I don’t think I’m wrong,” he said, knowing their quiet clash grew stronger and neither changed the other’s opinion. “Today was a bunch of men who wanted to see you and talk to you. Wait until the women are involved and you’re in Chicago and the results of your visit are right here in Verity for the locals to deal with. They won’t be so happy or so cooperative, especially if you stir up that Milan-Calhoun feud.”
“Have you always been right?”
“No, but I’m right often enough that I trust my own judgment.”
She laughed and in spite of their steady battle, her stubborn refusal to leave Verity, her flagrant disregard for law in Verity, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and make love to her.
“It doesn’t bother you that you’re going to upset a whole town?”
“Of course it would bother me if I thought that would happen.” She gave him an assessing look out of the corner of her eye. “It must be wonderful to feel you’re always right.”
He stifled a laugh and a retort
“Come by the office and look at that list of other unsolved Texas murders,” he said, eliciting a smile from her. It seemed they had once again agreed to disagree.
Needing a break from his tenacious but beautiful opponent, he picked up the phone to confer with Jason on the arrival time. When he got his answer, he should have simply turned to look out the window but his eyes lit on Destiny instead. “No wedding ring,” he observed. “So you’re single.”
“Definitely. There’s no special man in my life at the moment.”
“I’m glad to hear that since I’m taking you out.”
“This wouldn’t count anyway. You’re taking me out to tell me about Lavita Wrenville and the unsolved murders. This is a business evening.”
He leaned close again, placing his hands on the arms of her seat to hem her in while they gazed into each other’s eyes. “There is no way this evening will be a business trip. The closest we’ll come is the conversation we just had, and now I’ve finished giving you the Wrenville history. I’ve been looking forward to tonight all afternoon long.”
“You want me to pack and return to Chicago and then you tell me you’ve been wanting to go out with me. That’s contradictory,” she said.
“My feelings are contradictory. You’re a complication in my quiet life,” he said, gazing into her big, green eyes that threatened to make him tell her to do whatever she wanted in Verity.
“A few complications in life sometimes make it more interesting. You’ll be able to handle this one, I’m sure.”
“I can’t wait,” he said, his heart drumming. He knew she wasn’t going to leave quietly and she would be a constant challenge to him. The most enticing challenge he had ever had in his life.
* * *
As Destiny walked to a waiting limo, Wyatt took her arm and in minutes they were headed into downtown Dallas. Wyatt sat across from her, looking totally relaxed, his booted foot resting on his other knee, his hand on the arm of the seat. In spite of all appearances of a relaxed man who cared nothing about the outcome of their discussion, she could feel an undercurrent between them. A clash of wills.
There were moments he flirted and set her heart racing. Other times, like now, he seemed remote. She couldn’t gauge her effect on him and it disturbed her because she was accustomed to red-blooded thirtysomething males succumbing to her charms or trying to charm her. Especially when she had flirted with them.
“Do you own the red limo?” he asked.
“No, I leased it for this trip. We flew to Dallas and picked it up there.”
“You always travel with this staff?”
She shook her head. “No. My assistant, Amy, works for me full-time since the success of my first book. Virginia Boyden, a camera operator—she’s a field operator who works for the show and her husband, Duke Boyden, is my chauffeur, whom I’ve known forever. He worked for my mom, so he’s like a relative. He drives for others, too. I hire him when I need him. I don’t travel like this as much for the show as for background for my next book.”
“Busy person, accustomed to getting what you want.”
“I think that description fits you best. You’re the oldest of your siblings, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yes, just the same as you are.”
“So tell me about your life, Sheriff Milan. Why are you sheriff? You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”
“My family has an old tradition. All the Milan males go into law—enforcing the law, practicing law, creating laws. For the most part in our family all Milan males get a law degree and practice law, which I did for three years, but, like my brother Tony, I’m a rancher at heart, so since I can afford to do what I want, ranching is what I’ve done most of the time. People in town wanted me to run for sheriff in the last election and I let them talk me into it.”
“So I heard. According to gossip, people trust you and they think you’re an honest man. When the Wrenville house reverts fully to the town of Verity and a fortune is found hidden away in the house, you’re the man people will trust. That’s a high recommendation about you.”
“I was honored and it was something I could do to contribute to my town,” he said.
She believed him. In spite of their clash, she was not only physically attracted to him, but she was also beginning to like him. She could see why people in town liked him.
“So what do all your brothers do?”
“Nick is a state representative. His background is the law firm of Milan, Thornridge and Appleton. Tony has a law degree, went to work for the firm for a year and then quit to be a rancher, his first love. We all love our ranches. My sister, Madison, is an artist and a newlywed.”
“Madison Milan Calhoun—a very successful and very talented artist. I stopped in her gallery here. Am I allowed to write about this family tradition of male Milans going into law?”
“If you want.”
“It’ll add to my story about the Milans.”
“Frankly, I hope you decide to not have any story about the Milans, the Calhouns or Verity,” he said. “We’re really a small, quiet town. Or we were until today.”
She just smiled at him.
* * *
The limo parked in front of the entrance to the three-story, Tudor-style country club in Dallas. Soft music played and a fountain splashed as they walked inside. Destiny was conscious
