The Reluctant Hero by Lorraine Heath Page B

near blind a man, a smile that spoke of intimate pleasures. Oh, she was definitely not forgettable.
    â€œI want you to be the hero of my next story,” she announced.
    His gut clenched; his mouth and throat were suddenly parched as though he’d reached down, grabbed a handful of dust from the street, and swallowed it. Breathing deeply, he shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am, but I’m not interested in having a story written about me.”
    â€œYou’re a little late in making that clear, Sheriff.” She reached into her reticule and pulled out a scrap of newsprint. “An article appeared already in the Fort Worth Daily Standard when you delivered the Ace in the Hole Gang to the Tarrant County courthouse.”
    â€œDid that piece happen to mention that I delivered them in pine boxes?”
    â€œOf course. It also explained that it was your daring actions that resulted in the trio needing those very same coffins.”
    â€œThere was nothing daring about any of it. And I didn’t take them to the courthouse so people could sing my praises. I took them so I could collect the reward money, and that’s it. Money for corpses. Nothing heroic in that.”
    â€œPerhaps not in that particular aspect of your adventure—”
    He lowered his head until his nose was even with hers, until he could see tiny black specks in the green of her eyes. “It wasn’t an adventure. I killed three men.”
    â€œWho left death and destruction in their wake. Sam Jenkins had a five-hundred-dollar bounty on his head, his cohorts a hundred each. No one can argue that they didn’t deserve to die. The newspaper wrote about your exploits and how you faced the gang alone—”
    Matt grimaced. He didn’t want to hear any of this. He didn’t want his role in the events of that day to be scrutinized any more closely than they’d already been. “If my exploits have already been written about, then I don’t see the reason for you to write anything further.”
    â€œOn the contrary, Sheriff, I believe you’ll make a wonderful hero for my next series of dime novels.”
    â€œSeries?” His voice sounded as though the dust had taken up permanent residence in his throat.
    â€œYes. It seems that readers love to read about the same characters over and over. They become emotionally invested in them. Lone Star Lily did well for me, but not nearly as well as the stories written by others that featured heroes like Wild Bill Hickok, Buffalo Bill, Jesse James—”
    â€œI don’t consider Jesse James a hero.”
    â€œWell, neither do I, actually, but stories that involve him sell like wildfire. So I decided that I should begin a new series. Texas Knight.” She gave him a gamine smile. “A little play on your name: Matthew Knight. When I’m finished you’ll be as famous as all the others.”
    She looked at him as though she thought she was doing him some sort of tremendous favor, rather than presenting him with an opportunity to destroy his life.
    â€œThat’s a right kind offer, ma’am, but I don’t want to be famous.”
    â€œLook, Sheriff Knight—”
    â€œNo, ma’am, you look. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got no interest whatsoever in being the hero of any dime novel.”
    â€œWhy not? Your name, your likeness will be on the cover. And I swear to you that I will do your reputation justice.”
    â€œNot if you’re painting me to be a hero.”
    She released a short burst of air. “This is unbelievable. I can’t fathom . . .” She looked out in the street as though she’d find an answer there.
    He found himself gazing at her profile, the side of her long, slender throat. He imagined trailing his mouth over that sensitive skin. He’d really gone too long without a woman when he was showing any interest at all in one who could prove to be his downfall.
    She