Western Romance

John followed Val across the smoke-filled bar, up the creaky wooden stairs. Her floral scent lingered in the long dark hallway. She led him into the room just above the saloon.

He closed the door behind them.

“Well, sheriff, I must say I wasn’t expecting this tonight…especially not from you. What exactly can I do for you?” Val began to loosen the satin ribbon ties on her corset that held her voluptuous body in place.

John’s gaze traced the lines of her neck and came to rest on the exact spot she wanted him to notice. He swallowed hard, stepped forward and pulled her close so fast he heard her catch her breath. Their lips brushed when he pushed her back toward the bed. I can’t do this now. It’s not why I’m here. I have to get a hold of myself.

“Well, if that’s the way you want it, sheriff.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“How about this?” She walked toward him again, draped her long arms around his neck and kissed him before he could stop her.

John twisted her arms around, catching her wrists in his hands. He wanted nothing more than to do what she was tempting him to–throw her down on the bed and have his way with her as so many others had before him. “Not now, Val.” Maybe later…

“Oh come on, sheriff.”

He pushed her away again. “I said not now. Can’t you take no for an answer?”

She turned up her lip and pouted.

The ploy must have worked wonders for any number of men, but not him. Not now. Now he had to get some answers. He did his best to keep a strong, stern look on his face, not betray what he was thinking, or the urgency of it. “What do you know about a man named Steven Brown?”

Val visibly shifted when he mentioned the man’s name, although she looked like she was trying her best not to show any sign of emotion. For a split second, a strange and faraway look passed over her face.

“What’s wrong, Val?”

“Nothing.”

She stopped pursuing John and looked away toward the window.

“Val?” John repeated. “Tell me what you know.”

She stood silently, pulled the sheers away from the window and stared out.

John walked up behind her, stared down at the dusty street in front of the saloon where several men mounted their horses. He grabbed her shoulder, spun her around. “Do you hear me? Stop looking out that window and talk to me.”

“I hear you.” Val grabbed John by the vest and kissed him.

Her tongue ran over the stubble on his face, down his chin to his neck. John couldn’t control himself any longer. He held Val, nibbled his way down the tender part of her neck to the soft places where the salt on her skin mixed with her perfume. He stiffened.

Her hands ran all over his back, instinctively urging him to pull her closer. “Oh, sheriff,” she moaned. “I’ve wanted you to do that ever since I can remember.”

He responded by reaching eagerly into the available space between her corset and her bare skin. The fact she wanted him to take her made him know he couldn’t–at least not now. Not until he had some answers about the killer on the loose. Besides, she was almost young enough to be his daughter. Since he became Sheriff, he’d done his best to maintain proper manners when it came to his personal life. Val was about to make him forget every promise he ever made to himself. “Val,” he whispered, “I need you to talk to me.”

Val laughed and slid her hand down the front center of John’s pants and gave him a knowing squeeze. “I need you, too, sheriff.”

John sucked in his breath, filled with eager anticipation of her touch and scent. He knew better than to get involved with a witness, especially Val. She had a sexy way of batting her eyes to try and get him to change the subject, forget the fact of her lying. “Stop, Val. No more until you talk to me.” John released her and stepped away until the space between them was wide enough he could breathe freely again.

 “What are you talking about? I don’t know a thing about anyone named Steven.” The expression on her face said something entirely different.

John knew better than to push it. He needed her to trust him. “You sure about that?”

She winked and walked up to him again, tried to reach her arms around him. “You know I’d have no reason to keep anything from you now, don’t you, sheriff?”

John pressed against her, his hands wandered all over her body. He squeezed her bottom. “Is this what you want, Val?”

“Oh yes, sheriff.”

Isabella could hardly think with him so close to her. She felt as if every nerve in her body was reaching out to him and she had to think, consciously, not to lean forward and touch him with the length of her body. His lean muscled physique called out to her, beckoning her to touch it. His words hadn't even registered in her mind and so she could not possibly think of a response that was appropriate. "I am sorry, what was it that you asked me?"

"I asked if you had thought to bring a bonnet. Your face has been kissed by the sun." Jackson emphasized his point by touching her face with his solid hand, caressing her cheek and down her neck to the conservative opening of her blouse. He fingered the small buttons at her neck.

"A bonnet?" Isabella closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on controlling the blood that was rushing through her veins, making it nearly impossible for her to function. His warm breath was tickling the hair at her temple and driving her to distraction.

"Yes, a bonnet. It would have kept the sun off your pretty face." Jackson smiled a knowing smile.

She wondered if he could tell what this closeness was doing to her. "A bonnet. No, I did not think to pack a bonnet." Isabella clenched her hands in front of her to keep them from reaching out to him and caressing the exposed skin of his chest where he had left a couple buttons open. All the skin she could see was golden and Isabella couldn't help but wonder how far down his tanned skin reached. Was it that dark everywhere? Isabella's gaze traveled down the length of him and rested on the noticeable bulge in his pants. Her face heated at her own boldness and she quickly brought her gaze back to his face. His expression held a knowing that further embarrassed Isabella. He couldn't have possibly known what she was thinking, could he?

"That is all right. I quite like the color the sun has added to your face. I think too pale a woman is not quite as attractive as one with a healthy natural glow." Jackson stroked her heated skin one last time then walked away to attend to the horses.

When he reached the saloon, Jake walked slowly up to the swinging doors. Loud music from an old piano competed with the sound of laughter and voices spilling out of the room. Jake looked over the top of the swinging doors and noticed the saloon had a full house that night. He decided he should wait for daylight before doing anything, but the decision was taken out of his hands.

Lucky unexpectedly glanced up toward the door and spotted Jake. All the color drained from his face as he stood and knocked his chair onto the floor with a loud bang behind him. Ben and Bill glanced over to where Lucky was looking and their faces turned an ashen color. They, too, stood quickly.

 This didn’t leave Jake any choice but to enter the saloon and have it out with the three men. As he made his way in, the music stopped as the piano player noticed something wasn’t right. The man hurried behind the old machine as if to take cover. Jake figured the piano player must have an instinct that trouble was on the way having played in the saloon for so long. He wasn’t about to get in the line of gunfire.

 Jake stood just inside the door and his narrowed eyes landed on the three that were also standing, facing him. All along, Jake thought he knew these three men, but when it came down to it, he didn’t know them at all. There wasn’t the usual confident look lining any of their faces now. They’d been caught and they knew it.