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Authors: Cheryl Gorman

Sheriff in Her Stocking

BOOK: Sheriff in Her Stocking
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Sheriff In Her Stocking

By

Cheryl Gorman

 

 

Copyright © 2012 Cheryl
Gorman

 

Cover Art by Rae Monet
Designs http://www.raemonet.com

 

All rights reserved. This
e-book is not transferable. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared
in any form including but not limited to printing, faxing, e-mailing,
photocopying or by any manner of information retrieval through electronic means
or through the postal service  without the express permission of the publisher.
This e-book is a work of fiction and a product of the author’s imagination. Any
resemblance to any person or persons living or dead, places, incidents,
locations or businesses is purely coincidental.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Delaney Moore
grabbed another double-chocolate chip cookie from the bag sitting on the
passenger seat of her Mini Cooper. Suddenly, the compact car fish-tailed wildly
over the dark, icy Montana highway and slid toward the snow-packed shoulder of
the road.

A spurt of fear
fueled with adrenaline zipped through Delaney's body. Her eyes widened and her
heart lurched into her throat. Breath huffed from her lungs in short, ragged
gasps. "Okay. . .just. . ..don't panic."

She popped the
cookie between her teeth and tightened both hands on the steering wheel before
easing her foot off the accelerator. Gently pumping the break pedal, the car
continued skidding toward the side of the highway. “No, nooo.”

As if in slow
motion, the car plowed into the snow bank with a muffled crunch. Snow sailed
upward into the air and landed with a soft plop onto the hood of her car.
Delaney jerked in the seat but avoided hitting her head on the steering wheel.
The cookie flew from her mouth, hit the windscreen and broke into several
pieces before falling to the dashboard. The engine sputtered once and died.
Quickly, Delaney turned the key in the ignition. Click. “Please start. .
.”  She tried again. Click. There wasn't even the slightest whine from the
engine. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she murmured to herself.

Unsnapping her
seat belt, she slumped back in the seat and heaved a deep breath thankful the
airbag hadn’t deployed. The windscreen wipers futilely beat in a steady thump,
thump against the rapidly building snow. "Great. It's almost Christmas,
you've been dumped by your two-timing boyfriend and now you're stuck in the
middle of this frozen wasteland."  She spied the pieces of broken cookie
on the dash and shrugged. “Might as well eat.” 

Resigned to her
situation, she grabbed one, popped it into her mouth and angrily chewed.
"To hell with what's-his-name, he can just get screwed."  She
shook her head. The rat fink bastard was probably doing just that right now
with his new skinny girlfriend.

Delaney wiped
some crumbs from around her mouth, leaned over and reached into her large,
hobo-style purse sitting on the floor on the passenger's side. She pulled out
her cell phone. Pushing the power button, she waited but the small screen
flashed a message indicating no service. She turned off the phone and tossed
the useless piece of metal and plastic back into her bag. Gazing through the
windscreen, snow sifted down in dense, white sheets through the beams of the
car's headlights. What the hell was she going to do?

A flicker of
light in the rearview mirror snagged her attention. Relief washed through her.
Thank goodness. The police. The strobe light on the roof flashed bright red and
blue in the steadily falling snow. The jeep pulled to the side of the road and
stopped. She watched as the officer climbed out. He looked huge, kind of like
Batman emerging from the fog. Seeing him walking toward her comforted her until
she remembered an episode from a crime show she'd seen recently. Her sense of
ease morphed into trepidation. The episode was about a crazed killer
impersonating a police officer in order to lure unsuspecting women into his
sinister web.

The officer
stepped beside the driver's door, shined a flashlight's beam into her face, and
tapped on the window. For a moment she considered not opening it.  Get a
grip, Delaney. Crazed killers don't lurk in snow storms. Or do they? 
 Taking a deep breath to calm her rising nerves, Delaney rolled the window
down an inch. Icy wind and snowflakes dashed against her face nearly taking her
breath.

"You
okay?"  His voice was deep and concerned even as he shouted the words
above the howling wind.

She wished she
could see his face clearly but between the darkness and his plastic-covered hat
it was impossible to get a good look at him. "I am, but my car
isn't."

"I'm
Sheriff Rick Cruz from Avery. You won't be able to get a tow this late because
of the storm. I'd be glad to give you a lift into town."

Delaney thought
about her cell phone sitting in her purse. If only she could call the town and
verify his identity. "Could I see your badge, please?"

He reached
inside the lapel of his coat, withdrew his badge and slipped it through the
crack in the window.

Delaney studied
it for a moment before handing it back to him. It looked real enough.
"Thank you. I just needed to make sure."

"No
problem. It's a smart thing to do."

Delaney put on
her coat, grabbed her purse from the floor board, stuffed the bag of cookies
inside and flipped the lock switch. She glanced down at her clothes. Why did I
wear a skirt today?
 
At least she had on boots. As Delaney started
to climb out of the car with her hand gripping the handle for balance, Officer
Cruz swung the door open.

He stepped
around the door until he faced her and held it open with one hand. “Be careful,
it’s icy.” 

Just as her
boot-clad feet touched the ground, a gust of wind slammed into her. Her feet
slipped on the ice. “Oh, no!” 

She jerked her
head toward the officer, kept one hand on the door handle and grabbed the lapel
of his coat with the other in an attempt to steady herself. Her mid length
skirt billowed up in the wind exposing the lower half of her body and chilling
her to the bone.

The officer let
go of the door and wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her toward him, but
trapping the skirt between them. “Easy, I’ve got you.”

Unable to get
her feet back under her, Delaney started to fall pulling the officer with her.
Her purse flew up into the air dislodging the bag of cookies. Double chocolate
chip scattered in all directions as they fell in a tangle of arms and legs into
a snow drift.

Dazed from the
fall, Delaney didn’t move for a moment. Her skirt was twisted around her upper
body. The officer lay half on top of her with one of his knees pressed against
her femininity, his right arm wrapped firmly around her waist and his left palm
lying on her right breast. Every inch of him touching her felt firm and corded
with muscle. His face was shoved into the side of her neck while his warm,
ragged breath wafted over her skin.

Despite the
blessed heat from his body, Delaney felt as though she’d been immersed in ice
water and the air had been suctioned from her lungs. Snow pushed into places
snow wasn’t meant to go. She inhaled a deep breath of frigid air as a shudder
racked her body. Her left arm was buried in the snow while the other was
sandwiched beneath the officer’s body. She moved her fingers and they closed
around a warm, hard bulge. Delaney’s eyes widened.

At that moment,
Officer Cruz shifted his hand from her breast, lifted his head and propped
himself up with one arm.

Delaney pulled
her hand from his crotch and attempted a smile. “Sorry.”

The headlights
from his vehicle illuminated the officer’s face. His hat had been knocked off
during the fall. Snow flakes coated his long, thick lashes and black, wavy
hair. A corner of his firm, sensual mouth kicked up. One word popped into her
mind. Gorgeous.

His chocolate,
brown gaze skimmed her face. “Are you okay Miss. . .?”

“Delaney Moore”.
She nodded. “I think so.”

The officer
rolled off of her and climbed to his feet. He leaned over and held his glove
covered hands out toward her. “Grab hold, I’ll help you up.”

Shoving down her
skirt, Delaney reached up and gripped his hands. She attempted to plant her
feet firmly under her, but as she struggled to regain her balance, she fell
against him.  She let go of his hands and placed her palms on his chest.
Pushing back a little, she lifted her chin. Her gaze collided with his. “I’m
really sorry. I’m usually not this clumsy.”

He threw her
another half-smile and she nearly melted into the snow. “Don’t worry about
it.”   

* * * * *

Delaney settled
back into the leather seat of the truck, leaned her head against the headrest
and sighed. She smelled food. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or the
fact that she had another urge for a cookie. She looked through the windscreen
and watched the sheriff lifting her suitcase from the trunk of her car. He was
a long, tall drink of man with broad shoulders and strong arms that she bet
could protect a woman from anything that came down the pike.

Cookies were
scattered at his feet. Hoping one had fallen out of the bag into her purse she
rummaged through it but found nothing. Sheriff Cruz said not to worry about
being clumsy. Usually she didn’t give such things a second thought but for some
odd reason he made her feel like an idiot.

She supposed it
was because of the affect he had on her. He was so solid and male and
well...hot. The man radiated strength and vitality. She’d heard that Latino men
were very passionate though she’d never dated one. But if the way he looked and
the sound of his voice were any indication that was most definitely true.

Warm air pumped
from the heater into the interior relaxing her. She closed her eyes and
listened to the music with a Salsa beat wafting from a CD player sitting on the
bench seat. She found herself tapping her foot in time to the music. She’d
never really listened to that particular kind of music and supposed it was
because she didn’t have any Hispanic friends. Most of her friends she’d met in
college or she’d known since childhood. They shared the same white protestant
background. Her parents expected her to eventually settle down with that same
kind of man and she supposed she would one day if the right man ever came
along.

Then why was she
so instantly attracted to Sheriff Cruz?  She shook her head and chalked it
up to exhaustion and her love life swirling down the toilet.

The driver’s
door suddenly swung open. Delaney straightened in her seat and watched all six
foot something inches of Sheriff Cruz climb in. He raked his fingers through
his ebony hair scattering snowflakes before turning toward her. His eyes, the
color of rich, dark chocolate caressed her face making her want to move closer
to him. “The storm’s picking up. The road’s bad now but soon it’ll be
impassable.”

Delaney thought
about being stranded on the side of the road with the Sheriff. How bad could it
be stuck in close quarters with a hottie like him?  Wait a minute she
didn’t even know him. Living in Seattle they didn’t get snow often. In fact,
with all the white stuff falling outside she imagined the possibility of being
snowbound with the sheriff was entirely possible. “Do you think we might not
make it into town?

He smiled
reassuringly calming her anxiety. “No, don’t worry, this truck will go
anywhere. Better fasten your seat belt.”

She reached for
the seat belt and pulled but it wouldn’t budge. She yanked again but the darn
thing didn’t release. “It seems to be stuck.”

He huffed.
“Sorry about that.”  He slid across the seat and reached around her. His
scent of soap and light aftershave surrounded her making her skin tingle. He
grabbed the belt and pulled. His arm brushed over her breasts. Heat from his
touch suffused her chest engorging her nipples. She felt them pucker beneath
her blouse and was thankful she still wore her coat.

Delaney studied
his face, barely an inch from hers. His skin was olive, his cheekbones defined,
his lips well shaped. He bumped against her and turned his head. “Sorry.” 
Her breath caught as his gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth. They were like
two deer caught in headlights. Suddenly she wanted to touch him, hold him, kiss
him. Mesmerized, she moved slightly toward him nearly drowning in the mahogany
depths of his eyes. He moved closer to her, his breath wafting over her lips.
She licked them hoping to somehow experience his flavor on her tongue.

A freight truck
rolled past scattering snow onto the side of the police cruiser. For a moment,
the truck’s engine hummed through the snow laden air before fading into the
distance. The sheriff jerked his attention toward the seatbelt, pulled once
more and snapped it into the buckle.

BOOK: Sheriff in Her Stocking
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