The Reluctant Hero by Lorraine Heath Page A

steadfast gaze dipped to his chest, and he refrained from taking a deep breath to make it appear broader, stronger. What did he care if she found him lacking?
    â€œYou’re wearing the tin star, so you must be the sheriff,” she said.
    Now that he was fully awake, he found her voice to be the sort that a man carried with him into his dreams—where he could be a hero, even if only until the sun came up.
    â€œYou’re observant,” he responded dryly.
    â€œSheriff Matthew Knight?”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” he acknowledged warily. It was one thing for her to be searching for the sheriff, another entirely if she was searching for him specifically. Others had searched for him, but been unable to find him, and as far as he knew none had been a woman.
    â€œThen I’m definitely looking in the right place for a hero, Sheriff.” She smiled triumphantly as though she’d accomplished an impossible goal. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me. Andrea Jackson?”
    Something about the name teased at his memory. He didn’t think he’d find her name on a wanted poster tacked on the wall behind his desk. Outlaws weren’t usually in the habit of introducing themselves to the local law. She was too old to be his kid, too young to be his mother, too slender to be growing his kid in her belly. Although, considering how long he’d gone without the close company of a woman, any kid of his would be walking by now. Not that he truly thought he had any children wandering around. He took what precautions he could to prevent that from happening.
    If he’d ever crossed paths with this lady, he would have remembered. Not that she had an unforgettable face, but her spirit intrigued him. Not many women stood before him as boldly as she did. The doc said it was Matt’s perpetual scowl that kept them away. He tended to think it was his reputation for being a man without feelings, emotions, or dreams. It was easier to face dying if a man wasn’t fond of anything he stood to lose.
    He slowly shook his head. “Can’t say as I have.”
    â€œI’m a writer of dime novels, sir. Lone Star Lily and the Treacherous Cattle Drive ?”
    Her voice ended on a rising ring of hope as though she expected her words to mean something significant to him. He simply shook his head. He wasn’t known as a kind man, but he figured she’d prefer a shake over “Never heard of it.”
    â€œ Lone Star Lily and the Notorious Outlaw ?”
    â€œSorry, ma’am.”
    Her face fell, and it occurred to him that maybe her features weren’t as forgettable as he’d first surmised. She wasn’t a great beauty, not by any means, but her expressive eyes were enough to hold a man’s attention, her nose small enough not to get in the way when he kissed her, her lips plump enough to provide a comfortable cushion for a man’s questing mouth.
    â€œDo you read, Sheriff?” she asked pointedly.
    And he wondered if she’d gauged the direction of his thoughts and was seeking to put him on another path.
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œDime novels? Or are you one of these unenlightened people who consider them frivolous trash?”
    Her green eyes held a spark of anger, hurt, resentment, and he thought if he answered wrong, judging by the determined set of her jaw, he might actually be on the losing end of a fight for the first time in his life. Now, wouldn’t that be interesting?
    â€œI read them on occasion,” he admitted. Every night before he went to bed, but he didn’t want to encourage her to linger by offering up a topic of conversation that might interest her. Not if she was searching for a hero.
    â€œWhich one is your favorite?”
    â€œMa’am, I just read the stories to pass the time.”
    â€œBut you enjoy them?”
    He nodded. “They’re usually entertaining.”
    Her smile returned, a smile that could darn