Not the Boss's Baby

He suspected her older sister was just as stubborn. In spite of Destiny’s smiles and polite charm, he continually felt their clash of wills.

He dropped her hand and headed to the door. As she walked beside him, he inhaled the scent of her mesmerizing perfume. He opened his office door and they walked out into the reception area where a group had gathered. Cameras flashed while people clamored noisily as they surged toward her.

Wyatt stepped in front of her, shielding her from the reporters that he easily recognized, two local, the others from the area and one from a Fort Worth station and one from Dallas. His deputy came forward to help, but Destiny stepped easily in front of Wyatt.

“I’ll be happy to answer your questions,” she said, smiling at the media.

“Not in here, please,” Wyatt said in an authoritative tone that caused a hush. “Folks, take the interview across the street. We have to conduct business here, not a press conference. Jeff, Millie, Duncan—outside, please,” Wyatt said, calling the names of the reporters that had the most influence. He knew nearly everyone in the crowd.

“We’ll go across the street,” Destiny said, smiling at the crowd and shaking someone’s outstretched hand.

Wyatt watched a man and a woman emerge from the crowd. He didn’t know them, but they flanked Destiny and he guessed they were two of her staff members.

“Dammit,” he said quietly, thinking about Destiny putting the Wrenville house—and, as a result, the Milans, the Calhouns and their feud—on television for the world to view. He didn’t think it would be any easier to keep her out of the Wrenville house than to get her out of his parking spot.

“I’m going to see Gyp,” he said tersely to his deputy.

He shook his head. “The mayor left for the day. He said to tell you he would see you in the morning.”

“Dammit,” Wyatt repeated, turning to go back into his office, figuring Gyp had ducked out on him because he knew Wyatt would be unhappy. Wyatt shook his head as he swore again. Townspeople would not be thrilled when Destiny Jones fanned the flames of old animosities.

Abruptly, Wyatt headed out the back door of city hall, circling to Main Street in long strides, hoping the limo was gone and her impromptu press conference was over. As he turned the corner, he stopped short. Not only was the red limo still in his parking place, but her audience had grown. In addition, a TV truck was parked down the street, lights had been set up and he could see men with video cameras. Shaking his head, Wyatt stared at the circus going on across the street. The lady knew how to draw a crowd. He made a mental note to get a private room for their dinner.

Wyatt scanned the crowd that spilled into the street and lined the sidewalk. He recognized Dustin Redwing and Pete Lee, two men who worked for him. He saw the curly white hair of Horace Pringle, the president of Verity’s largest bank. Ty Hemmings, the owner of the movie theater, was in the audience, along with several other shop owners. He spotted Farley White, his mechanic.

Wyatt knew nearly everyone in the gathering. He shook his head at the sight of Charlie Akin, the local eccentric who lived in a shack along the river in a neighboring county. Periodically, the river flooded, taking Charlie’s shack. He moved downriver or upriver, staying in the general area and built another shack, taking his goats and chickens with him. Wyatt wondered how Charlie had gotten word that Destiny Jones was in Verity.

Deputy Lambert stood nearby, watching the crowd, and Wyatt was certain his deputy was there out of a sense of duty. Wyatt continued studying the crowd, recognizing face after face, being only slightly surprised that Destiny had drawn such a gathering because she would draw attention wherever she went.

He looked at her as she answered a question. A breeze tugged long tendrils of her deep auburn hair. She looked like a movie star standing there in the sunshine while people asked her questions. She glanced his way. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, he felt as if she had reached out and touched him. Her gaze held his while she finished her answer. Then she turned to look at someone asking her a question.

His cell phone rang and he pulled it out to see he had a text from his brother Nick. “Dammit,” Wyatt said quietly, scanning Nick’s text.





Watching Destiny Jones in Verity on TV. Why didn’t you let us know? When can I meet her? How long will she be in Verity? The Wrenville murders?





As he read it he received another text, this one from his youngest brother, Tony, also wanting to know about Destiny. Wyatt shook his head and strode through the front door of city hall.

“Sheriff,” Dwight said, shaking his head, “Argus is dealing with two wrecked cars on the highway and he can’t tow the limo for several hours.”

“Okay. Val is across the street. Do you know if he found the driver?”

“He did. The man said he would move the limo when his boss told him to move it.”

Wyatt smiled and shook his head again. Was she doing this deliberately to get his attention? Beneath her smiles and charm was a strong will. He shook his head and went to his office to call Nick first on his private line.

“Nick, you have too many questions for a text. I didn’t know she was coming. Yes, I’ve met her. I don’t know about introducing you, but are you sure you want to meet her?”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Look at the crowd she’s drawn. If you didn’t know she was coming, then the town didn’t know,” Nick replied.

“I think that’s right.”

“She knows how to draw a crowd.”

“All she has to do is walk down the street.”

“Amen. You’ve got that right. Try to figure some way we can meet her. Tony’s already sent me a text. How come you’re not out there?”

“I’ve already met her, and my deputy is there.”

“So you’ve talked to her.”

“A little. I’ll get you the introduction, and I’ll call you about when and where.”

“Thanks, Wyatt. She said she’s staying at the Verity Hotel.”

“So she told everyone, including the press, where she’ll be. The lady does want attention. Don’t tell me you’re going to hang out in the lobby?”

Nick chuckled. “Hardly. No, I’ll meet her, but not that way. Thanks for calling.”

“I’ll keep in touch.”

Wyatt sent Tony a text. Three minutes later his phone rang.

“I’m watching Destiny Jones in Verity on TV.”

“I’m sure you are. I’ve talked to Nick and I promise I’ll introduce both of you sometime.”

“Cool. Don’t forget. Right now you’re missing her interview.”

“I’ll live. Talk to you soon, Tony.” Wyatt picked up an iPad from his desk and switched to the television cable to pick up her interview. He watched her deftly field questions, give answers that would bring laughter and generally captivate the audience. He gazed at her green eyes and auburn hair. It wouldn’t matter if she had mumbled and had nothing to say. She was gorgeous and charming and her audience was enchanted.

Wyatt’s jaw clamped shut a little more tightly as he listened to her talk about wanting to learn about Lavita Wrenville and how fascinating Verity’s history was, including the Milan-Calhoun feud. Each minute he watched her his hopes sank lower because at dinner he had hoped to discourage her from using the unsolved murders at the Wrenville house for a show. There would be no way, now that she’d spoken about it to the media, that she’d pack up and go back to Chicago.