Silver Bracelets: A Loveswept Contemporary Classic Romance Read online

  Silver Bracelets is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A Loveswept eBook Edition

  Copyright © 1991 by Sandra Chastain

  Excerpt from Trying to Score by Toni Aleo copyright © 2013 by Toni Aleo.

  Excerpt from Long Simmering Spring by Elisabeth Barrett copyright © 2013 by Elisabeth Barrett.

  Excerpt from Scarlet Lady by Sandra Chastain copyright © 1997 by Sandra Chastain.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc.

  Silver Bracelets was originally published in paperback by Loveswept, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc. in 1991.

  eISBN: 978-0-345-54168-0

  www.ReadLoveSwept.com

  v3.1

  For Marian Oaks

  because she gave me Sarah

  and a whole lot more.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Editor’s Corner

  Excerpt from Toni Aleo’s Trying to Score

  Excerpt from Elisabeth Barrett’s Long Simmering Spring

  Excerpt from Sandra Chastain’s Scarlet Lady

  One

  Sarah played the beam of her flashlight back and forth through the dark apartment until she found the half-naked man handcuffed to the brass bedpost.

  “Somebody here in need of a locksmith?” she asked, and swallowed her grin. This wasn’t the first practical joke she’d been called out to undo, but it was the first one where the victim was wearing only underwear and socks.

  “Hell, no!” The captive swung his feet to the floor and said with deadly warning in his voice, “If I need anything, it’s a firing squad. Who are you? And get that light out of my eyes.”

  “Sarah Wilson. Sorry, I don’t have a rifle on me, and I’d turn on a lamp except there doesn’t seem to be one.”

  “There isn’t. How’d you get in here?”

  Sarah decided it was just as well that there was no other light. From the tone of his voice and the set of his lips she didn’t think that exposing either of them to further illumination was advisable. That was all right; she’d been warned that he’d be angry.

  His clipped, evenly spaced words told her that he was barely managing to control his fury. And the beam from her flashlight was more than sufficient to reveal his totally masculine, whipcord-lean body. He didn’t try to cover himself. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice his near nakedness.

  This rescue was proving to be a bit more intense than she’d expected. Not only was his voice intimidating, but his black hair, which was too long, and heavy five o’clock shadow made him look mean. She rarely saw a man that she didn’t put a label on, but this time she was having trouble deciding whether he belonged in a late night thriller movie, or on the Outlaws of the West calendar in her shop.

  Then she realized there were two things wrong with her line of thought. First, this was Smyrna, Georgia, not Marlboro Man country. The second and more dangerous problem was that the practical joke she’d been called in to rectify didn’t seem to be amusing the victim one bit. The fact that her pulse was doing the lambada while her breaths were coming in waltz time weren’t helping matters at all.

  She decided to try to defuse this ticking bomb before there was an explosion and she got caught in the blast. “I’m a locksmith. If you’re Asa Canyon, your friend Mike sent me over. He says that you should be a good sport about losing the bet.”

  “Correction. I apparently don’t have any friends, and I don’t bet.”

  “Mr. Larson knows that you’re upset,” she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken, “and he’s sorry. I’m supposed to unlock the cuffs, then tell you to read the note he left for you. And, oh yes, your boots are by the door.”

  Asa Canyon jerked his hand and felt the pressure of the cuffs against his wrist. Fighting the pounding waves of frustration and pain that assaulted his head, he wondered how he could have let himself be fooled. He should have known something was going on when Mike turned up so unexpectedly.

  They were an unlikely pair: Mike, the wealthy playboy, and Asa, the cynical ex-Marine. Mike was the only longtime friend that Asa had, and that was only because Mike made few demands. Up until this evening, the last time they’d crossed paths had been two years ago in Denver, during a ski competition. Asa had been working security and Mike had been traveling with some of the rich and famous.

  Last night, they’d gone to the Chattahoochee River Company, a bar on the square for “a real man-to-man talk” over a couple of beers. Asa vaguely remembered some long earnest speech from Mike about his being a changed man, a man with a future. That discourse was followed by a wild story about running the bulls in Spain … and falling in love with Jeanie.

  During the second beer, Mike had been very polite when he’d asked Asa to give his approval to the marriage. It wasn’t that Asa had a problem with Jeanie getting married; it was marriage to Mike that Asa objected to.

  Since he’d become Jeanie’s stand-in father sixteen years ago, when she’d been in boarding school, their relationship had slowly evolved into that of an older brother looking after his beloved little sister. Until three months ago when she’d called and asked him to come to Smyrna, outside Atlanta, Georgia, where she’d made her home base for the past year.

  She’d been heartsick over a broken love affair, and for the first time, nothing Asa could do seemed to cheer her up. That was when she’d come up with the crazy idea that since she and Asa had always been family, they might as well make it legal and get married. Asa would have told her that she was being foolish, but she’d been hurting so badly that he hadn’t been able to do it. He’d given up his security job in California and come to Smyrna, where he’d eventually signed on with the County Sheriff’s department. He’d known that after Jeanie had had time to think things through, she’d change her mind, just as she had with all the other grand schemes she’d ever entertained.

  What he hadn’t counted on was Mike changing Jeanie’s mind by making her fall in love with him. Asa remembered swearing to put Mike in jail if he even thought about making a move on Jeanie. Asa wanted Jeanie to be happy, but he’d never allow her to marry a jaded playboy without a job.

  Just about the time he’d realized that Mike was serious, Asa started to feel dizzy. Mike joked that it wouldn’t do for Deputy Sheriff Asa Canyon’s best friend to let him get arrested for drunk driving. Mike insisted on driving Asa home. After that, everything went blank.

  Now Asa understood. Mike had realized that Asa would find a way to stop the marriage, and Mike had put something in his beer. Then he’d taken Asa to Jeanie’s newly rented apartment, taken his clothes, and handcuffed him to the bed with his own handcuffs. Asa had only just begun to wake up when he’d heard someone opening the door.

  That someone—the woman holding the flashlight—was all mixed up with the memory of last night and the absurdity of the present situation. He hadn’t heard what Sarah had just said, but from the quizzical expression on her face, he had the feeling that she’d asked a question.r />
  “Never mind about how this happened. Maybe we ought to talk about getting you loose,” Sarah went on. “You have some weird friends, Mr. Canyon, if they think that this is just a simple practical joke.”

  “You’re right. Having your best friend slip you a Mickey is no joke, lady.”

  “Someone drugged you?”

  Sarah was starting to become a little worried. There was something very peculiar about this call. She shined the light around, trying to figure out why the name Asa Canyon sounded familiar. Aside from the bed, there wasn’t another piece of furniture in the whole room, not even curtains, sheets, or a pillow. Just one very angry man, wearing nothing but socks and underwear. The only other thing in sight was the pair of boots by the door, with the envelope sticking out of one of them.

  Sarah had often been accused of being too trusting. Pop had been trusting too, and she didn’t know any other way to be. But this time she might be in over her head. Still, after twenty-eight years of living her life one way, she probably couldn’t change, even if she wanted to. And what she wanted now was to find out more about Asa Canyon.

  Never one to follow directions, Sarah had already deviated from the instructions left on her answering machine by coming out in the middle of the night instead of waiting until morning. Now she decided that the man handcuffed to the bed ought to know what the note said before he was free. That way, if she was going to be the object of his anger she could either run for her life or bargain for her safety.

  She picked up the envelope and started toward him.

  He stopped struggling with the handcuffs. He even seemed calm now, but there was an underlying tension about him that was intensifying with every breath he took. She would have sworn that the temperature in the apartment was rising.

  Looking at her sternly, he cursed—too quietly—and said, “You’re right, Ms. Wilson. This isn’t a practical joke. And if Mike Larson thinks that I’m going to laugh this off he’s dead wrong. You just get me loose. There’s someone I have to talk to right away, before she makes a very big mistake.”

  Uh-oh, she? Sarah stopped right where she was. There was a woman involved. She’d heard about bets and payoffs, but this was truly mean! She shined her light on the note and opened it. She couldn’t help but glance at the contents. This wasn’t a simple bet. For a long minute she debated about what she could do to cushion the blow that was coming. But she was unable to think of a thing.

  Sarah couldn’t bring herself to read the note out loud. It was too personal, too painful for a man like this one. She didn’t need to have him tell her that he was proud. It showed in every inch of him. And almost every inch showed.

  “Maybe you’d better see this,” she said, finally walking over to the bed and focusing the light on the paper so that he could see.

  Asa’s eyes followed the words, reading, but not accepting.

  Sorry, old buddy, I tried to tell you about Jeanie and me, but you wouldn’t listen. We really fell in love. She didn’t want to hurt you, so I tried to explain. You weren’t about to let her go so I had to take drastic measures. By the time you read this in the morning, we’ll be gone. Maybe you’ll learn to forgive us.

  Mike

  P.S. I took your clothes to slow you down—in case you managed to get away.

  There was a long silence.

  “Are you all right?” Sarah asked.

  “Unfasten these handcuffs, Ms. Locksmith.”

  “Maybe you ought to think about what you’re planning to do,” Sarah suggested. She had to delay what was sure to be a massacre if Asa Canyon caught up with his friend.

  “I have thought about it.”

  “I know how hurt you must be, Mr. Canyon, but he says they’re in love. Surely you want this Jeanie to be happy. If you love her, you have to put your own feelings aside.”

  “I don’t have to do anything, and I’m not in love with her.”

  “Oh.” Sarah was stumped. Was the man heartless?

  “She’s my … my ward, not my fiancée. I care about her, but love is something I don’t allow.”

  Don’t allow? That kind of thinking was so foreign that Sarah couldn’t even voice a reply. Finally pure curiosity won out and she asked, “Haven’t you ever been in love?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “Don’t have any.”

  “Everybody has parents, Mr. Canyon.”

  “Not me.”

  He meant it. Sarah couldn’t imagine growing up without a family, but this man had. “But still, you have to accept the fact that your … your ward has run away with your friend.”

  “No, I don’t have to accept that. The note said ‘in the morning.’ There’s still a chance I can stop them.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and began to move the bed.

  “What you are doing?” She watched in astonishment as Asa Canyon dragged the entire brass bed across the carpet to the window.

  “I intend to get out of this apartment,” he said, kicking out the lower pane of glass in the window. “Either with your help or by rousing the entire neighborhood. It’s your choice.”

  “Now just a minute, Mr. Canyon. You’re acting like some crazy man!”

  Sarah walked around and stood between him and the window. Enough was enough. He was already inviting trouble by getting in front of the window practically nude, but breaking windows could get him arrested. “You don’t want somebody to call the police and—”

  “Sarah Wilson!” He silenced her protest in midsentence. “I am the police.”

  “Uh-oh! The police?” Then it came to her, where she’d heard that name before. He was Deputy Sheriff Asa Canyon, the new Dirty Harry of the Cobb County Sheriff’s Department, the man who, on his first week on the job, single-handedly captured the trio of robbers who’d held up the Burger Barn and escaped in the restaurant manager’s car. The story and his picture had been all over the papers two weeks ago.

  “Deputy Sheriff Asa Canyon,” he said with a threat in his voice. “And I order you to remove the cuffs.”

  “Oh, goodness. Yes, sir. Let me get my keys,” Sarah answered, trying to think of a way to calm his fury. “They’re in the toolbox somewhere.”

  “You don’t have a single master key?”

  “Not exactly. There are several different handcuff locks. It won’t take long. I just have to find the right one.”

  “Wonderful,” Asa said under his breath. “Another nice touch, Mike. All the locksmiths in the county and you pick a woman. Cute!”

  Sarah froze. “I could just walk away and leave you trussed up like a Christmas turkey.”

  Considering the situation, this woman was probably his quickest way out. “Sorry,” he said, trying to sound contrite. “Just hurry, will you?”

  Sarah picked up her toolbox and slid up close to Deputy Canyon. She couldn’t avoid noticing the skimpy briefs he was wearing. Impishly she decided that she’d pegged him wrong. He ought to replace the baseball pitcher lounging seductively on the billboard near her locksmith shop. The pitcher wore a pair of burgundy briefs just like the deputy’s, only not nearly so well, Sarah decided with an appreciative eye.

  Yes, the gossip about the new deputy had been right. She’d encountered Dirty Harry in the flesh. This was a man who skated on the fine edge of fury and now she, too, was standing on very thin ice.

  Cutting her eyes away from his body she leaned closer and began to study the lock. “This is going to be a bit tricky,” she said. “I can’t hold the light and my tools at the same time. Without a table to set it on, there’s no way to anchor it so that it shines on your wrists.”

  “Open the window.”

  “Sorry, Deputy, you can’t jump with that bed attached to your arm, glass or no glass. Besides, suicide is no answer.”

  “We’re on the ground floor,” he growled. “Put the flashlight on the windowsill and close the window on it. That ought to hold i
t in place.”

  “Deputy Canyon, are you sure you know what you’re suggesting? You’re wearing nothing but underwear and you’ll be in the spotlight. If anybody is watching, they might possibly get the idea that we’re involved in something … kinky.”

  “Kinky?” he roared, then took a deep breath. “Please, Ms. Wilson”—his voice softened just enough to let Sarah catch a glimpse of his worry—“I have to get to Jeanie and make sure that she knows what she’s doing. Sixteen years ago I promised her father I’d look after her, and I never go back on my word.”

  “Why does she need looking after? Doesn’t she have a mother?”

  “No!” he barked. “I’m the only family she has. Jeanie’s different. She tends to take wild chances, without considering the consequences. She always has. That’s why she needs me.”

  He was serious. He wasn’t angry with this Jeanie. In fact, Sarah was beginning to understand that his attitude was more that of a father or an older brother.

  Sarah put the flashlight on the sill, then twisted his hands to get a better angle. Leaning across his body, she tried to concentrate on what she was doing rather than on his very masculine shape. He tried to turn away as if he didn’t want to be touched.

  “Please, keep your hands turned like this, Deputy Canyon,” she said. “I’m glad your wrists are slim. It makes this less painful for you and easier for me.”

  “I’m glad you approve. There are those who think I’m mean and lean.”

  She didn’t think the description referred to his physical appearance. “And are you mean?”

  “No, I’m simply careful, a quality that my ex-friend Mike apparently is learning to emulate.”

  Asa was aware that he was thought to be a man of purpose, one who never deviated from his course. There were some who called him a loner. He saw himself as an individualist. There were some who said he had tunnel vision. He called it commitment.

  He would have stopped Jeanie from eloping. He still could. But right now he was having trouble focusing on the how. The lady locksmith hovering over him was proving to be very distracting, and distractions were not a part of Asa Canyon’s life.