Salvation in the Sheriff's Kiss(19)

Dammit. Focus, Donovan.

Platt cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder at Hunter. Irritation flashed in his eyes and the smarmy smile disappeared.

“I can assure you, Mr. Yucton, I have much experience in these matters and I am certain I can be of great service to you.”

“Not interested.”

Platt ignored the rejection. “I will give you the day to think on it and return on the morrow.”

Yucton grunted in response. “Return on whatever morrow you want. Won’t be changing my mind.”

Platt turned away from the occupied cell and fixed his snake oil salesman smile back in place. “I expect I will be allowed to see my client tomorrow, Sheriff.”

Hunter shrugged. “The man isn’t going anywhere.” He wasn’t thrilled about Platt and his pompous attitude gracing his office again, but there was something fishy about the man, and better he keep him in his sights until he figured out what was going on and who this so-called mysterious benefactor was.

Dig deeper.

Platt headed toward the door but stopped when he reached Hunter. He looked past him to where Meredith peeked around his shoulder.

“My apologies, madam. I did not see you standing there or I would have introduced myself to you directly. Mr. Wallace Platt, at your service.” Platt executed a courtly bow. When he straightened, he glanced at Hunter expectantly.

Hunter ignored him. He couldn’t conjure any good reason to introduce Meredith to the likes of this dandified Southerner. Meredith, unfortunately, did not feel the same. She elbowed past his protective barrier and held out her hand. He watched in disgust as Platt bowed over it. Lucky for him, he didn’t raise it to his lips. If he had, Hunter was more than prepared to plant him into next week. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more—the fact that she didn’t appreciate he was only trying to protect her, or this ridiculous sense of proprietorship he felt toward her. She didn’t belong to him. A fact his head had accepted but failed to relay to his heart. Or other parts of him for that matter.

“You’ll have to excuse the sheriff, Mr. Platt. Manners were never his strong suit. I suppose those of us who have come from away can appreciate their usefulness a bit more. Miss Meredith Connolly.” She gifted the lawyer with a smile so sweet Hunter’s teeth ached.

“It is indeed my honor to make your acquaintance, ma’am. And where might away be for you, Miss Connolly, if it is not too impertinent of me to ask?”

He had yet to let go of her hand. Hunter gritted his teeth against the surge of possessiveness that erupted within him. Planting Platt into next week was beginning to look like a stellar idea. He curled his hand into a tight fist.

“Boston, Mr. Platt. And you? I assume from your accent you do not hail from these parts?”

“Alas, no. From the fine state of Virginia originally. San Francisco most recently.”

“How lovely.”

“It’s positively wonderful,” Hunter drawled out, unable to keep his growing irritation from lacing its way through each word. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Platt. I have things to do and seein’ as how your supposed client isn’t interested in having you as his lawyer, I don’t see much reason for you to hang around.”

Platt didn’t bother looking at him. He was too busy making cow eyes at Meredith. “Perhaps we’ll meet again, Miss Connolly. I always feel it is nice to make as many friends as possible when one is a stranger in a new place. It would be my pleasure to count a lovely lady like yourself among them.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Platt. And I agree— one cannot have too many friends. I look forward to furthering our acquaintance.”

Hunter waited until Platt closed the door behind him upon his exit, then turned on Meredith. “What the hell was that all about?”

The words were out before he could stop them. She blinked at him, her eyes pools of innocent blue. She dropped her gaze to her gloves and slowly pulled them off, one finger at a time. “I have no idea what you’re talking about? I was merely being polite to a stranger.”

He glared down at her. His agitation grew with her feigned innocence. For crying out loud, she’d all but swooned at Platt’s pretty words. “Well you might want to learn more about the damn stranger before you start cozying up to him like he was your new best friend.”

She pulled off her second glove then smiled up at him. “I hardly think one has to take a man’s measure before they decide whether or not to be polite. Perhaps you should try it. Your manners could use a little brushing up. They’re hardly up to the Donovan standard, now are they? Oh no, wait,” her brow furrowed, “of course they are. You Donovans always had a habit of assuming money meant you didn’t need manners, if I recall?”