a phone in the hallway, and one on the wall in the kitchen. My niece, Jolie, has been after me to buy one of those cordless things, but I just haven’t seen the need—until now, that is. Guess we must seem pretty old-fashioned to you. I suppose everyone in Atlanta has a cordless phone.”
With an inward groan, Lexie recalled making up the address in Atlanta when she’d called to make her reservations. The lie had been fabricated on impulse. At the time, she’d just wanted to cover her tracks. Obviously, she hadn’t covered them well enough.
Looking back, she realized the lie hadn’t really been necessary. Even if Boston’s social news story of the year had somehow made it this far west, she doubted Mo Garrett would have been interested enough to read it.
The lie about coming from Atlanta now seemed silly, especially when in only a matter of hours all her lies would be revealed. Besides, the truth about her fictitious Atlanta address would be a minor aside when compared to the truth about her identity, and the awful truth behind why Hugh Miller had been murdered.
Suddenly, Lexie felt utterly heartsick and desperately alone. In an uncharacteristic and unexpected surge of unchecked emotion, a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek.
“Are you sure I can’t make that call for you?” Mo asked again.
Lexie shook her head and swiped at the pools of moisture gathering in her eyes. “Thanks, but no. I think it would be better if he heard about what has happened from me.” With her emotions so close to the surface, she wondered if she had the strength to deal with the inevitable confrontation that would follow. Wouldn’t it be better to wait until she felt stronger, more in control?
Besides, how could she give her father an accurate report of her physical condition before a real doctor had examined her? Upon further assessment of the situation, it seemed to Lexie not only preferable, but prudent to delay the conversation.
“You know, maybe you’re right. Maybe I should wait to call my father until after the doctor checks me out.”
Mo’s smile was understanding. “Any father would want to know if something like this had happened to his daughter. But I have a feeling that whenever you call, he’ll just be so relieved to know you’re safe it won’t matter that you’ve waited to contact him.”
“You don’t know my father,” Lexie muttered almost to herself.
“No. But I’m sure your well-being is all he cares about.”
There was no way Lexie could respond to Mo’s observation. It would be nice to think that every father had only his children’s best interests at heart, but in her own case, Lexie knew better. In fact, she’d never had any illusions about her place on her father’s list of priorities.
Of course he cared about her personal safety, but the precious family name, an unblemished public image and positive public perception mattered more. Far more. And that was precisely why the call to him could wait, she told herself resolutely.
With a sigh, Lexie leaned back against the butter-soft leather cushions and closed her eyes. She figured she must have dozed off, because she felt disoriented when she heard footsteps and Mo talking in a low voice to whomever had entered the room.
“Of course, I’m all right,” Mo was saying. “It was all over by the time I got there.”
Lexie opened her eyes.
“Lexie, honey,” Mo said in a gentle voice she might have used to awaken a sleeping child. “This is my brother, Lucas.”
The tall, broad-shouldered cowboy standing beside Mo nodded in her direction. “Miss Dale.”
The whiteness of his western-cut shirt was a dramatic contrast to hair so dark the sun streaming through the window behind him picked up blue highlights. His long legs were encased in dark blue denim. His boots were black, like the Stetson he held in one large, tanned hand.
“Lucas is the sheriff of Bluff County,” Mo said.
Lexie realized she was staring hard and inappropriately long, but for the life of her she felt powerless to look away. She’d been in the company of some of the most attractive and eligible bachelors in the world, but if she’d ever set eyes on a more arrestingly handsome man, she couldn’t remember when.
And it wasn’t merely his impressive physique or the aura of strength that seemed to surround him that captured Lexie’s attention. Nor was it the rich darkness of his hair or the strong outline of his chiseled profile that held her full attention and made her forget for that moment why he was here.
It was his eyes. Those blue, blue eyes, the color of a priceless gemstone, with the same stunning clarity and fascinating depth. The kind of eyes that could look right through a woman or touch the deepest corner of her heart.
“I read the statement you gave my deputy, Miss Dale, and I’d like to clarify a few details, if you don’t mind.” His voice was deep, rough-edged and strangely appealing. It was the kind of voice that left no question who was in charge.
“All right,” she said uncertainly. She tried to tell herself her slightly breathless state was a remnant of the ordeal she’d endured this afternoon on the mountain. But deep down, she sensed it had more to do with her unexpected reaction to Mo Garrett’s blue-eyed brother.
Chapter Two
“I’ll try to keep this brief, Miss Dale. I know you’ve been through a lot already, today.”
Sheriff Garrett seemed not only thoughtful, but competent and articulate, qualities Lexie hadn’t expected to find in a small-town sheriff.
“Ready?” he asked.
She took a deep breath as he settled his tall, athletic frame into the winged chair opposite hers and she reminded herself that all she had to do was repeat what she’d told Deputy Ferguson. If she kept her answers short and to the point, perhaps she could get through this interview with her anonymity intact. Now was not the time to allow a case of simple chemistry to muddle her thinking.
With a bit a luck and just the right verbal maneuvering, she could keep the handsome lawman from delving too deeply into Hugh Miller’s murder, at least until the proper authorities arrived to take control of the situation.
“Just start at the beginning, Miss Dale,” he said. “Tell me exactly what happened, all that you remember.”
“As I told your deputy, everything happened so quickly. One minute I was riding along, enjoying the afternoon and the next thing I knew Hugh had been shot. I was attacked by a man wearing a black ski mask.” She added, “I’m sorry. There isn’t much more to tell.”
His smile was understanding. “It isn’t unusual for the victim of a violent crime to want to forget the incident. But later, sometimes hours or even days afterward, important details come to mind. I know it’s the last thing you want to do, Miss Dale, but I need you to try to remember those details now.”
For some reason, she didn’t want him calling her by the name she’d assumed for her trip to Colorado. Her lie felt somehow more indicting coming from his lips. “It’s just Lexie,” she said.
He
