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Authors: Lorraine Heath
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porch. âI guarantee that was a lot more interesting than what weâll be doing at my office.â
Seven
He had as gentle a hand as sheâd ever known.
âFrom Tex Knight and the Lady in
Need of Rescue
by Andrea Jackson
Andrea sat at the table in her room, her arms folded over the typewriter, her head resting on her hands as she gazed out the window into the darkness of the night. From her perch, she could clearly see the sheriffâs office. A pale, faint light spilled out through the windows, and she wondered what he was doing. Was he reviewing more papers? Was he writing some sort of report? Was he reading? Was he sitting at his desk? Was he doing all the boring things that had occupied him all afternoon and had made her wish that theyâd never left the Logansâ porch?
Or was his long body stretched out on his bed? Were his boots resting at the foot of it? Was his shirt hanging from the peg on the wall? Did he sleep with his trousers on? Or had he simply put them on this morning so he wouldnât be embarrassed when he opened the door to her?
Had he known it was her this morning? And what would he do if she knocked on his door in the morning?
Would he hold her to the bargain theyâd made of giving her only one day?
Or would he welcome her into his office, into his arms?
This man who took in strays, comforted children, helped out a widow, and, whether or not he was aware of it, had befriended Andrea with a compassionate ear.
From the moment Elliot Palmer had told her that her determination to pay off her fatherâs debt was too much of a burden for any man, sheâd accepted that love would always be an unattainable dream, that no man would be willing to accept the limitations that marriage to her would bring.
But this afternoon sheâd had a taste of desire such as sheâd never felt when she was with Elliot. And while she knew her time in Gallant, her time with Matt, would be fleeting, she was a twenty-six-year-old woman, spurned, traveling the lonely road to spinsterhood.
She deserved one night when she wasnât lonely. One night when she wasnât alone. One night when she could pretend that her dream of love was attainable.
She wasnât surprised to find herself getting up from her desk and extinguishing the solitary flame. Sheâd bathed earlier and washed her hair, as though her heart knew long before her mind that she wouldnât spend tonight alone.
With no hope for anything beyond this day, she walked out of the room, locking the door behind her. The hallway was shadowy and quiet. She did her best not to make a sound. She wasnât worried about waking up any guests, since she was fairly certain that she was still the only one. She was more concerned with waking up the hotel owner, Lester Anderson. How would she explain her wandering out so late at night?
She neednât have worried. Lester was nowhere in sight. A solitary lamp at the registration desk held the shadows back, but based on the snoring she heard, he was asleep in his office. She walked quickly and quietly through the lobby into the night.
Â
Â
Matt had sat on the bench outside his office, with Sammy lying at his feet, until the sun eased its way beyond the horizon and night crept in. He hadnât taken offense when Sammy headed off to the cemetery. Loyalty was one of the things heâd always longed to have. Loyalty and love. Loyalty, love, and a lady who could accept him, faults and all.
Instead he found himself falling in love with a lady who was looking for a hero. She might think she was only looking for a hero for her story, but heâd figured her out. She was looking for a hero for herself.
And he was about as far removed from being a hero as the devil was from heaven.
Heâd sat on his bench until the lights of the town were lit. It was easy to determine which room in the hotel was hers. It was the only room with pale lamplight spilling out of
Seven
He had as gentle a hand as sheâd ever known.
âFrom Tex Knight and the Lady in
Need of Rescue
by Andrea Jackson
Andrea sat at the table in her room, her arms folded over the typewriter, her head resting on her hands as she gazed out the window into the darkness of the night. From her perch, she could clearly see the sheriffâs office. A pale, faint light spilled out through the windows, and she wondered what he was doing. Was he reviewing more papers? Was he writing some sort of report? Was he reading? Was he sitting at his desk? Was he doing all the boring things that had occupied him all afternoon and had made her wish that theyâd never left the Logansâ porch?
Or was his long body stretched out on his bed? Were his boots resting at the foot of it? Was his shirt hanging from the peg on the wall? Did he sleep with his trousers on? Or had he simply put them on this morning so he wouldnât be embarrassed when he opened the door to her?
Had he known it was her this morning? And what would he do if she knocked on his door in the morning?
Would he hold her to the bargain theyâd made of giving her only one day?
Or would he welcome her into his office, into his arms?
This man who took in strays, comforted children, helped out a widow, and, whether or not he was aware of it, had befriended Andrea with a compassionate ear.
From the moment Elliot Palmer had told her that her determination to pay off her fatherâs debt was too much of a burden for any man, sheâd accepted that love would always be an unattainable dream, that no man would be willing to accept the limitations that marriage to her would bring.
But this afternoon sheâd had a taste of desire such as sheâd never felt when she was with Elliot. And while she knew her time in Gallant, her time with Matt, would be fleeting, she was a twenty-six-year-old woman, spurned, traveling the lonely road to spinsterhood.
She deserved one night when she wasnât lonely. One night when she wasnât alone. One night when she could pretend that her dream of love was attainable.
She wasnât surprised to find herself getting up from her desk and extinguishing the solitary flame. Sheâd bathed earlier and washed her hair, as though her heart knew long before her mind that she wouldnât spend tonight alone.
With no hope for anything beyond this day, she walked out of the room, locking the door behind her. The hallway was shadowy and quiet. She did her best not to make a sound. She wasnât worried about waking up any guests, since she was fairly certain that she was still the only one. She was more concerned with waking up the hotel owner, Lester Anderson. How would she explain her wandering out so late at night?
She neednât have worried. Lester was nowhere in sight. A solitary lamp at the registration desk held the shadows back, but based on the snoring she heard, he was asleep in his office. She walked quickly and quietly through the lobby into the night.
Â
Â
Matt had sat on the bench outside his office, with Sammy lying at his feet, until the sun eased its way beyond the horizon and night crept in. He hadnât taken offense when Sammy headed off to the cemetery. Loyalty was one of the things heâd always longed to have. Loyalty and love. Loyalty, love, and a lady who could accept him, faults and all.
Instead he found himself falling in love with a lady who was looking for a hero. She might think she was only looking for a hero for her story, but heâd figured her out. She was looking for a hero for herself.
And he was about as far removed from being a hero as the devil was from heaven.
Heâd sat on his bench until the lights of the town were lit. It was easy to determine which room in the hotel was hers. It was the only room with pale lamplight spilling out of
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