If he had, he’d have had to answer to Hallie.
Hallie slammed the door to her small, overheated red Subaru, trying to keep her mind on rescuing Granny. If only the old girl would move to Fort Worth with her, it would make Hallie’s life simpler, she thought as she hurried toward the front entrance.
“Cheating? I am not cheating! You, Sheriff, are wrong. I never cheat.”
“Or make moonshine either, I suppose?”
Hallie recognized the deep resonant voice following Granny’s as the one she’d heard earlier on the phone.
A checkers game was in hot progress through the cell bars, Granny on the unfortunate side of them. Hallie stood and stared, curious to see if Granny could hold her own against the man who held her captive, both literally and otherwise.
“I saw you move that checker, you sneaky old woman—and you’re not going to get away with it,” came the sheriff’s reply.
“Prove it, Cam Osbome!”
Hallie hid a smile at Granny’s ornery rejoinder and wondered if the man would back down. He didn’t look the type to do any such thing. She took in the width of his shoulders. Unless she missed her guess, the man could wrestle a bear as easily as he could a little old lady who cheated at checkers. Maybe, just maybe, Granny had met her match with Cam Osborne.
His long legs were stretched out in front of him, sheathed in faded denim that fit him like a second skin. His shirt was a dusky blue and fit him just as sensually. Thick dark hair, worn a little long, curled over his shirt collar, and Hallie found herself wondering at its silkiness, what it might be like to delve her fingers into its richness. Quickly she checked that thought.
“Game’s over, Granny.” He folded the game board, sending checkers flying.
There was a spate of cussing from Granny before she spotted Hallie over the man’s broad shoulders.
“Hallie! Thank God you’re here. This brute is no gentleman.”
“And you, Pearl Cates, are no lady.”
Ignoring Granny’s loud harumph, he turned toward Hallie and stuck out a hand. “Sheriff Cam Osborne,” he said.
Hallie glanced at the man’s hand, debating about taking it. It was broad and sensual. Capable. Of what, she didn’t want to think about. It would swallow hers up without a doubt and she’d feel the tingle all the way to her toes. And she wasn’t sure she should risk that—not at the moment. If she were wise, not ever.
“Sheriff,” she said coolly.
The man’s eyes were a beguiling brown, his jaw strong and slightly arrogant, the kind that invited a fight or two on a Saturday night—and she didn’t have to guess who would come out the winner. His smile was slow and tempting when he chose to let it slip.
“I want out of here, Hallie. Tell this man to let me go.” Granny had her wizened face pressed to the bars, and Hallie had the sense that if the woman could get her hands on Cam Osborne at the moment she’d let loose with one good roundhouse punch.
Not that it would have a whole lot of impact on that granite body of his.
“I intend to do just that, Granny,” Hallie said, then ignoring the sheriff, went to give her grandmother a big warm hug, albeit through the cell bars.
“I brought you your favorite cookies, Granny,” she told the woman and saw a smile light her face.
“Bring ’em to me now,” she said. “That supper I got wasn’t enough to feed a carrier pigeon. I’m starved.”
“They’re out in my car. I’ll get them,” Hallie said.
When she returned with the plate of cookies wrapped in aluminum foil the sheriff had other ideas. “I, uh, need to check those before you hand them over to my...prisoner.” he said.
Hallie rolled her eyes. “Aw, come on, Sheriff, you think I baked a hacksaw blade in one of these little chocolate chippers?”
A slight smile touched his sexy mouth. “Where a Cates is concerned, a man can’t be too careful.”
Hallie handed him the plate and waited indignantly while he peeled back the foil. “I suppose they look safe enough.” He took one from the plate and popped it into his mouth.
“Well, Sheriff, if you didn’t bite into anything that will saw through bars, may I give these to my grandmother?”
He waved a hand magnanimously. “Be my guest.”
The nerve of the man, suspecting her of subterfuge, suspecting Granny of...anything, and locking the poor soul up like she was some...common criminal.
“Hallie, you do make the best cookies,” Granny said and took a fistful as if she might never get another morsel of food.
The dear probably thought she’d never again see the light of day, either. And that was a situation Hallie intended to remedy—and fast. “Excuse me, Granny Pearl. I have a few things to say to the sheriff.”
“Go get him, Hallie!” Granny said and snatched the entire plate from Hallie’s hands.
Not the best move. She might have been able to use the cookies as a bargaining tool in demanding Granny’s release. Now she’d have to depend on the man’s reasonable side—providing he had one.
She approached his desk and sat down in the lone chair beside it, crossing one jean-clad leg over the other. Her foot and leg pumped, revealing her nervousness. She’d never tried to bargain with the law before, not even over a speeding ticket.
She supposed anger wouldn’t work, though she had a lot of it. She suspected wheedling would get her nowhere either, and she’d never been very good at that anyway. Reason—it was the only thing worth attempting.
“Sheriff...” Hallie struggled for calm. “I—I’m sure we can work this out if we discuss it like two sane, sensible people.” She smiled as if to say, she’d try if he would.
“Batting those eyes isn’t going to get you anywhere, Ms. Cates,” he said superiorly. “Neither will flashing that pretty smile at me, delightful though it may be.”
“Why, of all the arrogant—! I did not bat my eyes. And my smile, Cam Osborne, was an attempt at graciousness. Obviously that’s something you wouldn’t recognize if it jumped up and bit you on your backside,” she retorted, her hackles up and on alert.
He grinned at that and Hallie wriggled in the chair. Damn, his office was close, stuffy. She wanted to throw open a window, take off a layer or two of clothing, except that she was wearing the minimum—jeans and a lightweight turtleneck top.
But she refused to let the man see her sweat. Or blush. Unfortunately she could control neither.
“I demand to know what proof you have against my grandmother,” she said crisply.
“Uh, Hallie...” Granny called from the cell doors behind Hallie’s chair.
“Not now, Granny Pearl. The sheriff and I are discussing...evidence.”
“But, Hallie...”
Hallie ignored the warning tone in Granny Pearl’s voice. A mistake, she realized when she saw the smug smile displayed on Cam’s lips. He rocked back in his big chair, entirely too sure of himself.
“Proof, Ms. Cates?” he asked, definitely baiting her.
Hallie felt a slow trickle of perspiration zigzag its way into her cleavage. She had the distinct feeling she’d played right into the man’s hands. Was that what Granny Pearl had been trying to tell her? Was that feisty, ornery little old woman guilty after all?
No, Hallie wouldn’t believe it.
The man lowered the front legs of his chair to the floor with enough force to splinter wood. He reached for the