The Sheriff's Christmas Twins by Karen Kirst Page B

forward. “You wouldn’t mind keeping this between us, would you? I’ve never been in a jail before, you see, and I wanted to gain a better understanding of Shane’s job.”
    Claude nodded with enthusiasm. “Oh, I understand, Miss Ashworth. I’m aware of how sensitive to gossip our sheriff is.”
    Beaming, she glanced at Shane, her expression one of satisfaction. He shook his head. The woman couldn’t do anything the usual way, could she? He hoped Trevor Langston knew what he was getting himself into.
    â€œIs there anything pressing you need help with, Claude?” he said.
    â€œNo, nothing important enough to take you away from this delightful young lady.” Releasing her hand with obvious reluctance, the banker grasped the door handle. “Will I see you at the church’s nativity celebration on Friday evening, Miss Ashworth?”
    â€œThat’s a question better directed to Shane.”
    Claude pinned him with a suddenly steely gaze. “You are planning on escorting her, I hope.”
    Shane hid a grimace. He made a point of avoiding these types of events. Singing about Christ’s miraculous birth while confronted with the nativity magnified the hollowness inside him. All those church services he’d attended with the Ashworths, the sermons about eternal destination—what would he choose, heaven or hell?—would march through his mind, making peace impossible.
    â€œIf Allison wishes to attend, I’ll make sure she’s there.”
    â€œThat’s what I wanted to hear.”
    When he’d left, Allison turned to him with clasped hands. “What’s the next stop on the grand tour? Your house?”

Chapter Six
    A llison was determined not to let Shane see her nervousness. This wasn’t a romantic outing. He didn’t wish for her company. He’d practically been ordered to escort her.
    Descending the stairs, she gave her cranberry velvet skirts a little shake to adjust the stiff crinoline beneath. The bodice was constrictive, the long sleeves snug at the wrists, but the dress was one of her favorites. Shane turned from the mantel, his luminous gaze widening as he took in her appearance.
    She ran her hand along the neat French braid trailing the middle of her back. “What? Is this not appropriate? Should I change?”
    â€œNo.” Stroking his whiskered jaw, he said, “You look... Christmassy.”
    â€œChristmassy?” Like an ornament on a tree?
    â€œNice.” He cleared his throat. “You look nice.”
    He turned his head away, giving her a chance to admire his dark suit. The midnight black hue made him seem more imposing than usual, but it also gave him a touch of city polish. His hair was neatly combed with a few stubborn locks falling over his forehead.
    She moved closer to the fireplace, where the logs smoldered. “You don’t look like a sheriff tonight.”
    His lips curved into a smile, an actual smile, and Allison felt as if the floor beneath her feet trembled. His austere features assumed a masculine beauty that had her inching forward and desperately wanting to trace his lips with her fingertips.
    Thankfully, his deep voice shattered the strange compulsion. “You’re awfully preoccupied with my profession. Norfolk has an impressive police force.”
    She made a dismissive gesture. “It’s not the same. I know Tennessee isn’t exactly the untamed West, but neither is it a sprawling metropolis. There are books written about men like you.”
    He snorted. “My life is not a grand adventure.”
    â€œYou don’t see it that way because, in your mind, you’re simply doing your duty. To the people you help, you are that larger-than-life hero in the pages of a book.”
    â€œI suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.” Running a finger beneath his collar, he tilted his head to the clock. “We’d better get going if you want to