Satisfied with her appearance, she picked up a small black purse just as the phone rang and she answered to hear Wyatt’s voice saying he was in the lobby.
Since she had told the media why she was in Verity, she expected to get attention all the time she was in town. When she stepped down into the lobby from the curving staircase from the mezzanine, she noticed two men with cameras aimed at her. In fact, every man in the lobby looked in her direction. Her pulse skipped a beat when she spotted Wyatt Milan. Dressed in a charcoal suit, black boots, a black wide-brimmed hat, he stood a few yards from the bottom step.
His gaze met hers, causing her heart to thud. Smiling at him, she walked down the stairs. She was aware of the cameras, but her gaze was on Wyatt, who looked back with the faintest hint of a smile.
At the bottom step he came forward. “Destiny,” he said, the simple pronunciation of her name sounding different from anyone else she had heard say it. She tingled from her head to her toes. She’d never had a physical reaction to a man as intense as with Wyatt. She had never expected to be so attracted to him. His electronic pictures had not conveyed his appeal.
He gave her a full smile, laugh lines creasing the corners of his mouth, and she actually felt weak in the knees as he linked her arm with his.
A man holding a camera stepped close. “Evening, Wyatt. Ms. Jones, I’m Carl Stanley with the Verity paper. Is Sheriff Milan taking you to the Wrenville house now?”
“I didn’t dress this way to go to the Wrenville house,” she said, laughing along with Carl and the others around her. “That will come a little later,” she answered, smiling at him.
“How did you hear about Verity and the Wrenville house? Was it from your sister when she visited?”
“I heard about it before that. Maybe Verity is more famous than people who live here realize,” she said while the reporter took notes.
“Do you hope to solve the mystery of the three murders in Lavita’s house?”
“That would be a fabulous result, but I don’t expect to get answers to questions that people have been asking for over a century. We’re just looking into the situation. Sometimes my show, Unsolved Mysteries, prompts people to come forward. We’ve had some solutions to puzzling cases since we started the series.”
“Are you going to interview local people for your show?”
“Carl, in due time you’ll see how the show unfolds. Thank you for your questions and your interest. Verity is one of the friendliest towns I’ve ever visited. We’ll talk again,” Destiny said, smiling as he raised his digital camera and got a close-up of her. Two more men moved closer and she smiled and posed while they took pictures.
Wyatt stepped forward. “Okay, guys, you have your pictures. We’ll be going now. Ms. Jones will be around to answer questions later this week.” He whisked her outside and into a black sports car. In long strides he circled the car and climbed inside to drive away.
“You handled that well,” she said.
“I believe you’re the one who handled it. You’re news right now and they’re interested, which you expected them to be, and I can’t blame them. This is a quiet town.”
She laughed softly. “Are they following us?”
“No, they won’t follow us. Sorry if you’re disappointed.”
“Why are you so certain they won’t follow?”
“They know me and they know I don’t want them trailing after me. They want my cooperation too often to cross me.”
“So what if someone does?” she persisted.
“We’ll see. It hasn’t ever happened.”
“I don’t think I’m the only one here who’s accustomed to getting his way.”
The corner of Wyatt’s mouth lifted slightly, but he didn’t glance her way or answer and they rode a few minutes in silence.
“Am I really the first outside person to show an interest in the Wrenville house?” Destiny asked. “That’s what someone told me.”
“As far as I know. I can’t really speak for before my time.” He checked his mirrors. “My deputy and I stayed out there once, just to see if anything happened or if vagrants were in there. Nothing happened and no one was staying there. The house is run-down, neglected. No one’s lived in it since the 1800s. It was well built to begin with or it would be falling in by now, but when something is abandoned, it doesn’t last.”
“So the house is ignored by one and all.”
“That sums it up. I think you’ll have a difficult time filling half an hour about the house or the people who died in it.”
“We’ll see. I hope you’ll consider a brief interview. Since you’re a Milan, I think it would be of interest.”
“Sorry, the answer’s still the same. No interview. So far, no occasion has ever arisen in Verity that warrants an interview from me, other than just answering brief questions for the news. And that’s the way I hope it remains. I wouldn’t be that interesting, anyway.”
“I differ on that topic. I’m not accustomed to getting turned down.”
Wyatt gave her a quick glance. “I’m sure that’s the truth. I imagine you’re accustomed to getting what you want from men.”
“Most of the time, I do. So far, you’re proving to be an exception, but I hope I can change your mind.”
He glanced over at her. “It all depends on what you want from me,” he said, a husky note coming into his voice that gave her the satisfaction of knowing he had some kind of reaction to her.
“Wyatt,” she said, “you haven’t discouraged me. I still hope to get an interview from you. I know it would be interesting.”
“You’d be surprised how dull I can get. Ask a local reporter. Their eyes glaze over sometimes, but it shortens interviews.”
She laughed softly again. “I don’t think you really do that—at least I would guess it is rare. I’m still going for an interview of my own.” She received another glance and this time his crystal-blue eyes darkened slightly and the look he gave her raised the temperature in the car.
“You go ahead and try,” he said in a deep voice that made her heart race.
“So that doesn’t scare you?” she asked.
“Hardly. It’ll be interesting to see you bargain for an interview,” he replied. He shook his head. “The evening has definitely taken a turn for the better.”
“We’ll see,” she replied.
Leaning back in the seat, she gave thought to the situation. Wyatt wasn’t reacting to her the way the majority of men did. She had grown up knowing that she was not the pretty daughter in her family. Desirée was breathtakingly beautiful and had been so all her life. Destiny had unruly red hair, was tall, but not stunning in her physical appearance, especially during her awkward teen years, but from an early age, she had learned to please and charm those around her to get what she wanted. With her relatives, she had poured out her love, being cooperative, obedient, helpful and turning on the sweetness when she needed to. During her later teens with boys her age, she had flirted, and it hadn’t taken much to melt them into hopeful males eager to please her.
It shocked her that, so far, Wyatt had resisted her smiles and easy requests.
She studied his profile, the firm jaw, prominent cheekbones, a slight bump near the bridge of his nose. He was not what she had expected and she was having a reaction to him that surprised and disturbed her.
“Do you have other places in Texas