The Sheriff's Secret Wife. Christyne Butler
didn’t budge.
For the first time since that weekend in Vegas, she and Gage were alone. Something they’d managed to avoid all these months. Oh, they’d seen each other. It couldn’t be helped in a town the size of Destiny, but they hadn’t spoken.
Until now.
“What are you doing in my bar, Gage?”
The brim of his Stetson grazed her hair. “I thought this place belonged to Max.”
Not for long. “On paper. I’m the one who keeps it running.”
“Always to the point, aren’t you?”
“What I am is busy.” She broke free from his hypnotic gaze and again crossed her arms. A few side steps had her resting her backside against Max’s desk. “So, why did you scare my boss out of his office?”
Gage turned, his clenched fists visibly pressing against the creased leather. “We need to talk about a couple of things—”
“And one of them is your sister.” Racy cut him off with a wave of her hand. “You went to Max about her working here, and what? Called in an old family favor? But he told you to deal with me. So, go ahead. Give it your best shot.”
“My best shot?”
“In convincing me to fire her, but I’ll give you my answer right now. No way.”
His mouth pressed into a hard line, then he said, “This is the last place Gina should be working.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Because?”
“The girl has a master’s degree in twentieth-century British and Irish studies.”
“And that’s going to hinder her in carrying a trayful of burgers and beer?”
“Dammit, Racy! She’s not equipped to deal with the horny cowboys and college kids that come in here.”
“Unlike me, you mean.”
“You certainly have a way of keeping them in line.”
From anyone else, she might’ve taken that as a compliment. Coming from Gage, it sounded more like an insult. “If you’re referring to that brawl in October, I was handling everything just fine until you walked in.”
“Including Dwayne. After I stopped his fist with my face.”
She fought against a grin and lost. “You should’ve ducked.” Her tone turned serious again. “Look, I wasn’t going to let Dwayne use a lopsided loss by his team as an excuse to start a fight. Besides, his right hook didn’t shake you up too bad.”
“It hurt like hell.”
Let it go. You don’t want to go there. “Well, I’m sure the ample attention one of my Belles heaped on you led to a speedy recovery.” Too late, dammit!
“Tammy brought me a raw steak for my eye.”
“With a healthy side order of cleavage and fawning.”
His gaze dropped from her face to her chest. Racy knew the flimsy cotton tank top was no match against the purple satin push-up bra filled with her own generous assets. She tightened her arms beneath her breasts and took a deep breath.
A single tic danced over his jaw. Served him right.
His gaze moved higher and lingered on her neck. She had to fight to keep her hand from going to her throat. The love bite he’d left above her collarbone was long gone. It had taken almost three weeks for the mark to disappear, but the memory of how she’d gotten it, and who’d given it to her, remained powerfully strong.
Especially when the man was standing right in front of her.
His eyes locked with hers again. “I think your Belles lead by your example.”
“Your deputies must do the same. Tammy’s got a busier social life than Britney Spears and Paris Hilton put together.”
“Present company excluded. I’m not interested in Tammy.”
He backed up a few steps and yanked off his hat. A quick push of his fingers through his dark hair left spiky tufts standing on end. They disappeared when he returned the Stetson to its proper place. “My point is Gina could be teaching at any college in the country.”
“She’s twenty-two years old.” Racy broke in, glad he was backing off about the bar fight. And from her. She was still reeling from his statement about not being interested in her waitress. Why, she didn’t want to consider. “Your sister wants to have some fun, meet people and wear sexy jeans.”
“That’s not Gina.”
“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think.” Racy pushed away from the desk and took a wide circle around him. Not wide enough. Her bare arm brushed against his jacket as she headed for the door. The movement caused goose bumps to skate down to her fingers.
He followed. “We’re not finished here.”
“Yes, we are. I’m not firing Gina.”
“This isn’t about Gina. It’s about us.”
Racy’s hand tightened on the doorknob as she wrenched it open. “Nice try in changing tactics, but there is no ‘us.’”
“I’m talking about Vegas.”
One booted foot hesitated at the threshold. A rocking country song that warned of T-R-O-U-B-L-E rang in the rafters. “We agreed to never bring that up again.” She tossed the words over her shoulder.
Gage’s arm shot out.
His palm landed against the doorjamb blocking her exit. “If you keep walking, I’m going to follow.” He leaned in, his mouth at her ear in order to be heard over the loud music. “Do you want everyone to find out we’re still married?”
Racy’s vision blurred at his hotly whispered words. “What?”
Gage pulled her back into the office and kicked the door closed. He turned her to face him, the warmth of his touch on her bare shoulders searing her skin. He placed one hand beneath her chin and gently forced her to look him in the eye.
“Did you hear what I said?”
His rich baritone voice, barely above a whisper, caused a brand-new Vegas memory to spring to life. Five months ago he’d asked her the very same question. About what, she couldn’t remember, but the recall left her feeling warm and fuzzy.
“Racy?”
She locked the memory away with the rest from that night and twisted free from his hold. “You’re lying!”
“I’m—what? Why would I lie about something like this?”
She didn’t know, but he had to be. How could they—no, they couldn’t. They couldn’t still be married! Two hours in that stuffy lawyer’s office had taken care of the legal mumbo jumbo before they’d left Vegas. “If you’re playing some sick game—”
A loud buzz cut off her words and brought forth a classic F-bomb she’d never heard Gage utter before. He grabbed the two-way radio from the belt clip at his hip and brought it to his mouth. “Steele here.”
“Sheriff, Deputy Harris here.”
His eyes never wavered from her. “What is it, Harris?”
Racy listened as the calm voice of one of her best friends filled the air. “We caught some kids drag racing on Razor Hill Road. Got one driver. Still in pursuit of the second.”
“Fine, bring ‘em in.”
“Ah, Sheriff … Garrett is the driver.”
His younger brother. Gage’s eyes closed, but Racy still caught the shadow of fear in their blue depths.
“Was