Lauri Robinson – The Sheriff's Last Gamble (страница 3)
As usual, a case of double vision formed. On one side he saw her just as she was—fully clothed in a light-green gown that highlighted every curve to perfection. On the other side, where his imagination came into play, he saw what was beneath the ruffles and lace. A body he’d give his right arm to explore and claim.
Snapping out of his fantasy took more than a head shake. Jake walked to the opposite side of the room, pretended to check the lock on the glass case holding several rifles and shotguns.
When his breathing returned to normal, even with the air in the room still pulsating of its own accord, he recalled his job. Though he had no belief in the statement, he said, “Emma Blackwell claims you threatened her.”
“Did she?” Gazing at her hand, Stacy fiddled with a ring, as if repositioning it just right on her slender finger. “When did I manage to do that? I’ve barely seen my dear half sister since I left her house, nearly three months ago now. Heaven knows, while in town she avoids even glancing my way.”
Moisture beaded his neck as she walked towards him. Jake swallowed, trying to bury the desire to kiss the pert grin off her lips. “Emma claims you sent a message to the ranch that said you want her to return a necklace or else you’ll see she’s hurt.”
“Hmm.” She’d stopped a few feet away and now rested a finger against one cheek. “A necklace you say?”
He gave an affirmative gesture, while his mind envisioned plucking the pins from her hair so the brandy-colored strands could flow freely around her heart-shaped face.
“Do you believe her?”
Jake shrugged. “She showed me a note.”
“Penned by herself no doubt,” Stacy said, still sounding blasé.
However, her temper was rising. It was reflected in those blue eyes he’d become masterful at reading. She was a gambler, a thoroughbred player, taught well by probably the most experienced expert the world had ever known. What she didn’t know was that Jake knew his way around gaming, too. Faro had been his calling, and he’d done well with it, might still be making the rounds of top-end saloons and first-class railway carriages if not for that incident back in St. Louis. It had changed his life. Three years ago, with his pockets full of more than enough money to last this lifetime and probably the next, he’d left his last winnings on the table, and closed the door on gambling—and anything to do with it.
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