What a Woman Wants. Tori Carrington
should have worn jeans, instead of a dress. While she was at it, she might consider that it wasn’t a brilliant idea to come downtown at all.
Straightening a strap on her jumper that needed no straightening, she glanced at her watch. Was it really only 8:00 a.m.? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“You’re stalling, Darby. Just go right in, tell John you want…no, need, to talk to him. Tell him the news. Then…”
Her words stopped there. Which wasn’t surprising. She hadn’t actually gotten beyond the “then” part of the whole situation yet. And there would be a “then.” There had to be. Things like this didn’t happen without a “then” coming up quickly from behind. But somehow she couldn’t seem to come up with one right now. She needed to get this out of the way before she could move onto the “then.” She sighed. Erick had always told her she had a one-track mind. She twisted the plain wedding band on her finger, her faint smile all but disappearing. She wondered what Erick would say now….
A horn blew, nearly startling her straight out of her leather clogs. She stared at the truck cab and the two giggling six-year-olds inside. She wagged her finger at them, made sure she had the truck keys in her pocket, then called, “No breakfast at Jeremy’s for you two if you keep it up.”
Darby shook her own head and made a beeline for the front door of the sheriff’s office. No one could ever accuse her of being a coward. She’d made it a point to embrace life head-on. That, of course, was before she’d found out how unpredictable, how mystifying, life could be.
She nearly tripped over her own feet. Grimacing, she looked down to find it wasn’t her feet she’d tripped over. Rather, a cat, which had zipped inside the door in front of her. A black-and-white scrap of fur she recognized from her countless visits to the fire station.
What was Spot doing over here? She rolled her eyes and allowed the glass door to whoosh shut behind her. She knew John was here. Had seen his SUV parked out front. But that didn’t stop her pulse from kicking up when she saw him. Whether it was her growing anxiety or the attraction that seemed to sizzle between them, she couldn’t be sure. She suspected both would make her feel jittery, dry-mouthed and self-conscious.
Whether as town bad boy or county sheriff, John Sparks had always had the type of looks that made her knees go weak. But in his jet-black pants and the gray short-sleeved shirt of his uniform, he made her forget what she was thinking about. Aside from his mile-wide grin and his neatly trimmed dark hair, authority and strength seemed to emanate from him. And she knew it was more than just the uniform. He had the same effect on her in jeans and a T-shirt.
“Morning, Darby,” George called from behind the counter.
Darby tried for a smile, but failed. “Morning, George.” Then to John, “I need to talk to you.”
How was that for subtle?
John’s grin vanished. Darby curled her fingers into her palms. But oddly it wasn’t her hands that dampened but her feet. So much so, she nearly slid out of her shoes.
“Oh.” John’s simple response might have been meant as a question, but came out as a statement.
Darby nodded. “Can I, um, borrow you for a minute?”
The expression on his face was curious, panicked and all too wary. He gestured toward the counter. “George and I are taking care of some important business. Can it wait?”
Darby looked at the bare counter, considered the relaxed stance both men were in when she’d entered and decided she was being put off.
Oh, indeed.
She raised her brows, surprised and stung. John had never put her off before. The possibility that he might hadn’t even remotely crossed her mind during the drive into town. She caught herself absently tugging on her dress strap and stopped.
“It’s important.”
John opened his mouth, but it was George’s words that sounded. “Looks like the lady means business. You should hear what she’s gotta say, Sparky.”
John’s grimace didn’t detract from his handsomeness, Darby would’ve thought if she hadn’t been so nervous. He gestured to the glass-enclosed office behind him. “You want to go in there?”
Darby glanced toward the truck parked on the street. “The girls are outside. I’d really like to stay where I can keep an eye on them.”
John’s gaze strayed from hers to the truck. He gave a halfhearted wave, and she guessed the twins waved back, judging by John’s smile.
“You want to go outside, then?”
She nodded. “Outside. Outside’s good.”
He got that curious/panicked/wary look again. She turned and led the way out onto the sidewalk.
It was nearly April, but the ground had yet to catch up with the new warmth of the air, leaving the mornings chilly. Darby pulled her jacket a little more tightly around her midsection and looked around the relatively quiet street. Shops were opening, the church bell began to chime off the hour, and a couple of blocks up kids were heading off to school. She waited for John to follow her out. The closing of the door told her he had.
Along with the commotion from the direction of the truck.
“Uncle Sparky!” the twins shouted in unison.
Darby briefly closed her eyes, then opened them to watch two small bodies catapult toward John’s legs, clutching him as if they hadn’t seen him in months, instead of a week.
John looked startled, then grinned and bent down to talk to the two animated girls.
Darby stood tensely through a hectic version of “The Life and Times of Erin and Lindy Conrad,” then before John could ask a follow-up question, she gripped two skinny shoulders and turned the twins toward where the door to the truck gaped open from their joint escape. “Back to the truck, you guys.”
“Aw, Mom,” Erin objected, digging her heels in. “Uncle Sparky is our friend, too.”
“He’s also working,” she reminded them.
“Yeah,” Lindy supported her mother.
Erin elbowed her sister, then shrugged Darby off when she attempted to hoist her into the truck cab. Instead, after much scrambling and inventive positioning, the six-year-old made it inside and claimed the portion of the seat nearer the passenger window. Darby looked down at Lindy, who raised her arms up as if on cue. She sighed and lifted her inside, then secured their safety belts. “Not a peep, you hear? Or else I take you straight to school with no breakfast.”
Lindy made a zipping motion with her hand while Erin grimaced at the unconvincing threat.
Darby closed the door and stood for a brief moment to gather her wits. Judging herself ready, she turned to face John. Then found she wasn’t ready at all. He looked so handsome with his hair tousled from where the twins had given him one of their full-head hugs, his grin tugging at something deep inside her.
She finally found her voice.
“Look, John—”
“Darby, I thought—”
They spoke at the same time. Darby smiled and glanced away. Had it really only been a week since she’d last seen him? It felt like several weeks. Months, even. The revelation in and of itself surprised her. When she’d lost Erick…well, she’d never expected to feel attracted to anyone again, ever. Much less such a short time after his death. But what she felt for John transcended mere attraction.
Of course, standing there on Main Street, facing John Sparks, sparked some memories she’d long since buried. Only, back then he’d been a rebellious teen, riding his dirt bike up and down the road, his tight jeans and plain white T-shirt drawing the attention of every female, no matter what her age. He’d been James Dean reincarnated. Well, with dark hair, anyway. And she, along with half the girls her age, had comically