The Sheriff's Secret Wife (5 page)

* * *

Gage knew what was coming.
Hell, he was still trying to recover from her dancing. Every bump and grind of her hips brought back to life the hours he'd spent with her. The same red waves he'd buried his face in flew over her shoulders and skimmed across her naked back. The dark blue fringe of her top brushed against the toned stomach he'd covered in a trail of wet kisses.
It had been years since she'd danced with the girls, but she still had the moves. Moves he was intimately familiar with. It wasn't until the music stopped that he managed to get his breathing under control. Now she was going to—
Racy held up the empty glass. "Anyone else want one?"
She laughed when the crowd shouted in agreement and surged forward. Gage immediately sought out his sister. Relief filled his chest when he found her against the back wall with another waitress and one of the bouncers.
"I'll take that as a yes." Racy's singsong voice called out over the crowd, pulling Gage's attention back to her. "Seeing how my tip jar is getting low, I think we need a special…."
The regulars in the crowd knew what was coming and roared their approval.
Damn, it was getting warm in here.
Gage yanked down the zipper of his bomber jacket, desire tightening his chest.
"Now, what I need is a very thirsty cowboy, but not just any cowboy." I need someone with all the right moves…who is willing to part with his money!" Racy held aloft the empty shot glass. "The going rate for a Racy Special is one hundred dollars. Do I have any takers?"
Despite the absurd price, there were plenty of men willing to part with their cash. When word spread just what a Racy Special included, even more hands shot into the air.
He couldn't believe she was still pulling this stunt.
"So many choices." Racy dropped her voice to a throaty rumble. "The tall, dark and handsome stranger in the back." She waved at a man who moved through the crowd toward the bar. Gage zeroed in on him, noting he was everything Racy said. "You got the cash, honey?"
The man smiled and held up a hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Gage caught something familiar in his face. Did he know this guy?
"What's your name, sugar?" Racy asked, taking the money and making a show of tucking it into the deep V of her top.
"Chase." The man's deep voice carried over the microphone.
"You're not one of our locals, Chase," Racy said. "Don't tell me you're a University of Wyoming Cowboy?"
Racy's question brought more cheers as the band broke into "Ragtime Cowboy Joe," the university fight song. The University of Wyoming in Laramie was less than an hour's drive south, and The Blue Creek was a favorite among the college crowd.
"It's a few years since my college days," the man said when Racy stuck the microphone under his nose again. "I'm from Texas."
"Oh, Texas…love that Southern drawl."
Gage thought he was going to puke.
"Okay, let's give a paying customer some room." Racy waved away the bar patrons, who moved back into the crowd, taking their drinks with them. She traded her empty shot glass for one filled to the brim, then slowly turned to face the cowboy.
"That's it?" he asked, looking up at her on the bar.
"Oh, no, I'm not done with you yet."
Gage's gut tightened into a painful knot.
Racy backed up and crooked her finger, motioning the cowboy to join her. He grinned and easily climbed up on the scarred wood surface.
From this angle, Gage couldn't see the man's expression, but he could imagine what he was thinking with almost six feet of toned, sexy female standing right there in front of him.
"Now, sweeties, you hold on to me while I hold on to this," Racy said, before handing off the microphone and raising the shot glass over her head.
Gage's hands curled into fists as the crowd roared its approval when the music started again.
Racy once again put her arsenal of bumps and grinds to good use as the cowboy took her in his arms in a modified two-step. She didn't spill a drop while they moved in a timeless rhythm that would've been blatantly sexual if they'd been horizontal.
A hot jolt of something he refused to label raced through Gage's veins as he watched. A rush of pent-up air escaped his lips when the music finally ended and the crowd applauded.
Racy spoke but he couldn't hear her words as the cheering grew louder when the cowboy nodded. She motioned to the bar where a saltshaker and wedge of lime sat on a small tray. With one hand on his shoulder, she directed the cowboy to his knees.
"Now, a Racy S-special isn't just a s-shot of Mexican blue agave tequila
reposado
."
Her voice shook as she spoke, the crowd now hushed. "To do this properly you need the right inducements."
Gage mentally nailed his boots to the floor. It took every ounce of his willpower not to march downstairs and yank her ass off the bar. What the hell was she trying to prove? Hadn't she learned—
Wait, did she just look up at him?
She pulled in a deep breath, her voice strong again as she swung her long curls off the face with a practiced toss of her head. "Let me demonstrate. The rest of you are welcome to watch so you can try this in the privacy of your own home."
Taking the saltshaker from the cowboy's outstretched hand, she raised her left wrist to her mouth. Gage could've sworn she was staring right at him as her tongue left a damp path on her skin. She then held the arm and sprinkled salt over the area.
Moving closer, she balanced her salt-encrusted arm on his shoulder and held the shot glass inches from his mouth. Piercing whistles and catcalls raced through the crowd.
"Don't make me laugh, ya'll, can't spill good booze." Racy addressed the crowd before turning her attention back to the cowboy. "Okay, sugar. You're welcome to take your shot whenever you're ready."
Again, her gaze lifted to her overhead lights. No, that wasn't right. She was staring up at the balcony. At him.
The cowboy remained still for a long moment. Then he rose, ignoring her salt-covered skin and tossing the lime over his shoulder. Leaning forward, he captured the shot glass with his mouth, tipped his head back and downed the booze in one swallow before releasing the glass into his hand.
The crowd cheered and the band went live with a rocking country song when the cowboy lifted Racy's hand to his mouth and kissed it before jumping back to the floor.
Gage found himself torn between respect for the guy and the urge to tear the man's heart out of his chest.

* * *

Lucky bastard.
Racy tried to concentrate on the computer screen. Chase Cartwright's words, whispered before he'd jumped off the bar, still rang in her ears. At first, she'd had no idea what he was talking about. Then he'd winked and said if she needed any help making her guy jealous, he'd be in town for a couple of weeks.
Her guy? Yeah, right.
She'd mumbled thanks and spent the rest of the night trying to justify to herself why she'd done it. Had it been worth it? She wasn't sure Gage had seen her performance. Keeping an eye out for him the rest of the night had produced nothing. If he was in the bar, he'd managed to stay hidden.
Until closing time.
She and Max had decided to close up an hour early due to a surprise snowstorm predicted to accumulate several inches. After the staff had cleaned up, Gina had given her a hug goodbye. Racy had quickly picked up that she was upset.
When she had pressed, thinking it was job related, Gina had said her jailer was waiting to take her home. Powerless not to, she'd looked and found Gage's hard stare directed at her.
Too far away to see his eyes, his clenched jaw and his arms folded over his chest told her either he'd indeed witnessed her entire act or he was still pissed about his sister working here.
His gaze had held hers until Gina had walked past and slugged him in the arm. Then they both had disappeared out the door.
"I'm heading out, sweetheart. You ready to go?"
Racy looked up and found Max in the doorway. "I need to finish this paperwork."
"I had planned to head home long ago." The man's grin rose into his mustache. "Look what I would've missed."
She took a swallow of ginger ale from a nearby glass. "Give me a break. I haven't done that in months."
Max yanked on his gloves. "Which makes me wonder, what's got you so riled that you'd do it again? Not to mention shaking your butt on the bar."
Racy broke free of her boss's speculative gaze and turned back to the computer's bookkeeping program. "Just wanted to see if I could still keep up."
"You kicked ass and you know it. Don't be long, ya hear? It's a winter wonderland out there." He sighed. "All this white stuff makes me long for the warmth of the South."
A fact Racy was counting on when she presented her proposal to buy him out. "Another fifteen minutes, I promise."
She concentrated on her work, pausing a few minutes later to push at the sleeve on her oversize sweatshirt. One with the bar's logo, not Gage's sweat jacket. That was buried in her backpack. And as soon as she got home it was going to the bottom of her closet.
A quick glance at her watch told her it was almost 2:00 a.m. Wow, she hadn't known it was that late. Crashing on the battered leather couch against the far wall wasn't an option. No, she had to go home because—
A muffled, steady clapping caused Racy to jump.
She swung around. Gage. He leaned against the door frame, his Stetson and jacket stained from wet snow. Cheeks ruddy from the cold, his lips pressed in a hard line as he continued a measured applause.
"Cut it out. You scared the crap out of me." Was she as breathless as she sounded? "How did you get—ah, Max. Look, I know Gina working here has you twisted six ways from Sunday, but I've already told you she's staying."
He'd stopped clapping and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "She told me the same thing on the ride home. I was heading to my place when I saw your car in the parking lot. Come on, I'll give you a lift."
"Excuse me?"
"You don't have snow tires. I checked. Got chains in the trunk?"
She didn't speak, knowing her silence gave him his answer.
"That's what I figured." He entered her office. "Besides, you've been drinking."
Racy glanced at the glass. "That's only—"
"I don't care what it is. Mixed with the shot you had earlier, it's two drinks too many."
She frowned in confusion until she realized he was talking about the shot glass of apple juice.
Hmm, so he had seen everything
. She should be happy, but deep inside she wondered if it mattered. He probably wouldn't give two whiffs if she'd stripped down to nothing and got it on with the first cowboy to cross her path.
Of course, the last cowboy she'd gotten skin-to-skin with was standing right in front of her.
"Oh, please, like you're worried about me." She turned back to the monitor, but fatigue overcame her. It was time to go home. In her own car. Three clicks and the computer started its shutdown. "I'm exhausted."
"That's understandable." He spun her toward him.
She gasped, never hearing him cross the room. He leaned in, his hands gripping the chair's wood handles, trapping her. "Considering the workout you got tonight."
Her eyes slammed into his. She tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go. The man surrounded her. The clean, fresh scent of snow and the outdoors clung to his clothes. It mixed with the warm, earthy scent of his skin to swirl around her, but she forced herself not to look away.
It was like being back in high school all over again!
He tugged on the chair, inching it closer. "Most husbands wouldn't enjoy seeing their wives parade on a bar in front of a bunch of drunk, horny cowboys."
"I don't have a husband."
His head dipped lower and thick lashes fanned out over sharp cheekbones as his gaze dropped to her mouth. He spoke, his voice barely a whisper as his eyes rose again to lock with hers. "We're still married. And, Mrs. Steele, we need to talk."

M
rs. Steele. Mrs. Steele. Mrs. Steele.
The words churned inside Racy's head much like the heavy snow swirling in the bright glow of the Jeep's headlights. She stared out into the darkness, not remembering exactly how she'd made it into Gage's vehicle. Her purse and backpack were at her feet, and on her lap were the matching letters from the State Bar of Nevada, one addressed to her and one to Gage.
That much she did remember. Clawing through the stack of mail on her desk to find her own letter explaining the legal mess they were in. A part of her had wanted to believe the letter Gage had given her was an elaborate joke. It wasn't.
"You're too damn quiet over there."
His harsh words caused her stomach to clench. She closed her eyes and kept her face toward the window. "I'm fine."
"All things considered."
"All things considered," she echoed softly.
"You're taking this better than I thought you would."
"Give me a few minutes. I'll turn into the spitting hellcat you're used to."
"I'm waiting with bated breath."
Gage's tone was low, unforgiving. She turned to face him. His rugged profile was lost in the shadows, but the glow of the dashboard accented the hard line of his jaw. Her fingers tightened on the letters.
"Of all the lawyers in Vegas—"
"Leave it to us to find the worst one in town."
"Are you sure this is for real?" Racy waved the letters at him. If he wasn't playing a joke, maybe someone else was. "How do we know someone isn't messing with us?"
"Who else knows we let booze and the bright lights of Sin City lead us down the aisle? I haven't told anyone."
His words caused a sharp zinger to nail her in the chest. "Like I have?"
"I don't know. You ladies love to talk."
Not about this.
Despite the teasing threat issued earlier, Racy hadn't been tempted to confide in Maggie about what had happened between her and Gage. She knew her best friend—in the midst of her own romance-induced haze, thanks to falling for the cowboy she'd hired last summer—would turn a crazy night in Vegas into a bigger deal than the mere mistake it was.
And in a town the size of Destiny, it wouldn't take long for everyone else to find out. She couldn't take that. It was hard enough to live down her first two miserable marriages. Once it got out she'd been the one who'd done the actual proposing, everyone would think Gage had married her out of pity.
Or as a joke.
Why else would the town's hero hook up with her?
No, dealing with the local gossip chain was the last thing she needed while trying to put together her buyout plan for The Blue Creek.
So pulling a Racy Special wasn't the smartest move, huh?
Racy pushed away the thought, despite the twinge of satisfaction that filled her. Getting her rebellious side to cooperate with the businesswoman she wanted to be wasn't easy. At least she'd used her brain and deposited her Vegas winnings in a bank down in Laramie.
Could that be it? Was this screwup somehow connected to her winnings? "Did you tell anyone about the money I scored—"
"No. How would I explain I knew you're a card shark?"
"I'm not a shark." On a whim she'd used her bartenders challenge winnings to stake a claim in a no-holds-barred Texas hold 'em game. It would've been foolish if she hadn't won. And won big. "I was lucky."
"Yeah, that's us…lucky."
Gage took the turnoff to her house, and the Jeep slid across the unplowed road. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, easily controlling the oversize vehicle. "Damn, these roads are bad. I can't believe you thought you could drive home. You should've used some of those winnings to buy yourself a decent car."
Not a chance. She had other plans for that money. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves but only succeeded in drawing in the clean, woodsy scent of the man next to her. Something she'd been trying to avoid since he'd shown up in her office, but hell, she needed air.
"I like my car and I have snow tires. I just haven't put them on yet."
"I'd ask why, but I'd bet you'd tell me to mind my own business."
Damn straight
. "Wouldn't even give you odds."
"Lady, I've learned never to gamble when it comes to you."
"Afraid you'll come out on the losing end?"
His stare cut to her for a quick moment. "I think I accomplished that in Vegas."
Ouch, direct hit
. Racy turned back to the window. "Just shut up and get me home."
There was nothing they could do about this marriage mess tonight and Gage was in no mood to talk rationally. The anger rolled off him in waves. Was it finding out they were still legally bound to each other? Or was it something else?
The Jeep slowly crawled along the snow-covered road that made up her long driveway. Her place was the only one out here. Her father and brothers had preferred it that way. No one around to complain about their extracurricular activities.
Living here by herself for the last seven years, not counting her brief second marriage, Racy enjoyed the solitude even if she never had the money to fix up the simple ranch house. Husband number two had seen to that when he'd run out with the entire contents of her bank account.
Jerk.
"I know people leave a light on, but isn't this a bit much?"
Gage's words pulled Racy from her thoughts. As they rounded the last turn, she saw bright lights shining from every window. They stopped in front of the sagging covered porch that ran the length of the house. Deafening rock music drowned the soft country tunes coming from the Jeep's stereo. Two snow-covered cars sat askew in the front yard.
"You have guests?" Gage put the vehicle into park, but left it running.
She shook her head. "I don't know what's going on."
Gage grabbed his Stetson. "Stay here."
A tall figure opened the front door and staggered onto the porch. Racy gasped. Her stomach plummeted to her feet as she recognized the man, who looked right at home with a beer in one hand and a cigar in the other.
"Gage." She grabbed one leather-clad arm and nodded toward the house. "Wait."
He looked, then his gaze shot back to her. "Did you know about this?"
Racy opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
"Are you trying to tell me—ah, the hell with it." He yanked away from her touch and opened the Jeep's door.
She did the same. Her feet sank into the snow as she hurried past the still shining headlights. Gage was already up the steps by the time she joined him.
"Well, if it isn't the honorable sheriff of Destiny. Are you the welcome wagon, too?" The man fell against the porch post and belched. "Hey, sis. You're out of bacon and eggs."
Racy closed her eyes, offered a quick prayer this wasn't happening and opened them again. No, he was still here. Billy Joe, her eldest brother by five years and until very recently a resident of the Wyoming prison system.
"What are you doing here?"
"Well, that's a fine howdy-do." Billy Joe straightened and started toward her. "I expected better from family. Come 'ere and give your big brother a kiss."
Gage instantly moved between them. All Racy saw was the wide span of his shoulders. "That's far enough, Dillon." His voice was easily heard over the loud music. "I think Racy asked you a question. I'll repeat it. What are you doing here?"
"I live here."
No, he doesn't!
Racy bit hard at her bottom lip, stopping her outcry. Thanks to a small insurance policy from her first husband, she'd bought out her brothers years ago. She had no idea they'd used the money to set up a drug-running business. A business that had landed them behind bars eighteen months later.
But Billy Joe was out now, nearly two years earlier than their scheduled release date.
"Where's Justin?" She stepped around Gage, but noticed how he angled his body so he still stood between her and her brother. "Is he here with you?"
Billy waved a hand at the front door. "Inside, entertaining our guests." He took a long draw on the beer before tossing the can into the snow. "The Dillon boys are out, Sheriff Steele. Wanna see our paperwork?"
"Yes."
Her brother headed for the front door with Racy right behind him. Before she could go more than a few steps, Gage seized her wrist. "You really didn't know they were back in town?"
She whipped back around. His icy-blue eyes stared at her. Was that disbelief she read in their cool depths? "I'm as surprised as you."
"They've been here awhile. The question is how long."
"How do you know that?"
"There weren't any tracks on the road, and those cars—" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder "—are covered with at least four inches of snow."
"I haven't seen or talked to either of my brothers in over two years." She yanked her hand free. "I told you, I don't know what's going on."
She turned, unwilling to see the disapproval on his face. He muttered under his breath as he followed, but she couldn't make out the words. Good thing, too. He was probably damning the entire Dillon family to hell.
The moment she stepped into her living room, she froze. Gage bumped into her, grabbing her upper arms and she found herself leaning into his strength. The furniture had been around since Racy's childhood. The end tables, lamps and television cabinet were yard-sale finds. Former sheets made up the curtains and long-ago-pilfered milk crates lined one wall as bookcases. It'd never be on the cover of a home decorating magazine, but it had always been clean and in order.
Until tonight.
Empty pizza boxes and beer bottles littered the tables and floor. Her paperbacks lay scattered, as if they had been thrown against the wall and then left where they'd dropped. Her college textbooks made a makeshift table for an open case of beer, and a fifth of whiskey lay tipped over, its contents creating a dark puddle in the aged shag carpet. The living room opened into the kitchen, which looked like a disaster zone with dishes and pans covering every inch of counter space. A pungent odor of beer, burnt eggs and smoke filled her nose.
"Hey, sis!" Justin Dillon sat on the couch, his arms around two blondes who looked like they came straight from a city street corner. "Aren't ya glad to see us?"
Racy slumped. He was drunk. They both were and her home was trashed. Embarrassment heated her face. The tightening of Gage's hands on her shoulders, in sympathy or anger, only made it worse. She pulled in a deep breath and wrenched from his grasp.
"I think she's mad," Justin said, grinning like a loon. "Sorry for the mess. Don't worry, we'll clean it up."
"Like hell we will. That's what she's here for." Billy strolled back into the room and hit the power button on the old stereo, cutting off the noise. He shoved the paperwork at Gage. "It's all legal. There ain't nothing you can do about it."
Racy ignored her brothers and walked farther into the room. She couldn't believe the damage they'd done in a matter of hours. She and Gina had left—
Gina! Her stomached clenched. Oh, thank God she hadn't been here when they'd shown up. But someone had been. Someone who'd waited for her every night for the last couple of months.
"Ohmigod, what have you done with Jack?"