The Billionaire's Matchmaker(22)

Chapter One



“9-1-1 Operator, what’s your emergency?”

“This is Marney Fields. Someone’s in my house.” Hiding in her master bedroom closet—behind two rows of dresses—Marney worked to level her breathing so she wouldn’t hyperventilate.

“Are you at the address you’re calling from?”

She turned away from the door and whispered into her cordless phone, “Yes.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Someone will be at your house in a few minutes. Stay where you are.”

She sucked in a breath and huddled a little deeper into the corner behind her dresses, her heart racing, her knees knocking. All her life she’d wanted to live in the country. But her very first night of sleeping in the mini-mansion she’d built for herself five miles outside of Chandler’s Cove, Illinois, every creak of a floor board or swish of the wind had brought visions of burglars and serial killers to mind.

She’d checked her security system eighty times, but her frightening thoughts still ran rampant. So when she’d heard the bang coming from her kitchen, her heart had about exploded. She’d grabbed her cordless phone, run up the stairs, and hastily dialed 9-1-1.

And here she stood. In the closet. Behind her dresses. Shivering.

One minute turned into two. Two became three. Three chugged along to four. With every minute that ticked off the clock, her chest tightened. Her breathing became shallower.

Footsteps sounded outside her door.

Her heart punched against her ribs. The police had scared her intruder upstairs! And he was in her bedroom!

She searched for a weapon but the best she could find was a plastic hanger. She grabbed it and held it up.

She’d finally made it as a jewelry designer. A home shopping network had picked up her line of earrings, bracelets, and necklaces, and she had money pouring in. She’d built this home, could vacation anywhere she wanted. She had a Mercedes on order for God’s sake! She was not going down without a fight.

The door burst open. She yelped a battle cry and foisted her hanger like a sword. The man jumped back.

“Whoa! Whoa! Wait a minute! Are you Marney Fields?”

She swiped the hanger at him.

“I’m Sheriff O’Neil.” He shoved his gun into its holster and displayed his ID.

That’s when she noticed his gray uniform, complete with gray winter jacket to ward off the cold from an unexpected April snow storm.

He eased the hanger out of her shaking hand. “Relax. I’m your neighbor.” He pointed to the right. “I live about two miles down that road. It was quicker for me to come over than send a patrol car.”

A mixture of embarrassment and relief washed through her in dizzying waves.

“Are you okay?”

She peeked up at him. “I heard a noise.”

He smiled sympathetically. “That’s not unusual in a new house.”

His sympathy upped her embarrassment to humiliation. She squeezed her eyes shut.

He chuckled. “Come on. Open your eyes. It’s smart to call the police when you think you’re in trouble.”

Her mortification ebbed. She opened her eyes and attempted a smile. “Sorry.”

“No need to say you’re sorry.”

He shoved his ID into his back pocket, drawing her gaze to his trim hips. It climbed up his flat stomach, along his broad chest, to the chiseled features of his perfect face.

Yum.

In three years of living in Chandler’s Cove after her divorce, she’d heard about the gorgeous sheriff. She’d seen him walking down the street or driving in his car, but had never seen him up close. His disheveled black hair reminded her of long nights spent making love. His gray-blue eyes probably glowed in the dark. And that body…Wow. Sexy was too simple of a word to describe him. Sensual was better. But rugged and masculine fit. The man oozed masculinity.

Attraction shimmered through her along with a jolt of pure lust. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. It had been a long time since a man had turned her on with his looks alone. But this guy definitely had.

“Ms. Fields?”

Her gaze flew to his face. “Huh?”

“I said I’m going to have another look outside, but I’d also like to suggest that you get an alarm system—” He paused. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Yeah.” Who was she kidding? She wasn’t okay. She was melting. She saw good-looking guys all the time when she went to the television studio to do the shows for her jewelry. But this guy was different. Broad-shouldered and dressed in a neat-as-a-pin uniform, he could make a nun question her decision to be celibate.

“Do you need to sit down?”

“Um. No.” She cleared her throat. “And I have an alarm system.”

“Do you know how to work it?”

Confused, she frowned. “Yes, I know how to work it.”

He grinned. “Why don’t you just let me check it out?”

“Sure.”

She followed him out of her soothing gray and yellow master bedroom. Her gaze automatically traveled from his broad shoulders down his torso to his butt, and she almost groaned. Perfect. Of course.

She shook her head. The trick to surviving his visit would be to quit looking at him. Especially his butt.