by Lori Wilde
“Here, sit down.” He kicked an office chair in her direction.
She lowered herself to the edge and hung her head in misery. “I’m so sorry.”
Aww, heck, he was feeling sorry for her now. “Hey, it’s not the end of the world.”
“You could let me go.” She said it matter-of-factly with emphasis on could.
“It’s a possibility, but we had a rash of burglaries in this part of town. Small businesses have lost expensive equipment. I can’t let you go until I verify your story. I have to take you in for questioning unless—”
“Try for Kevin again? Please. Or maybe someone else can vouch for me.”
“We’ll just ride downtown and—”
“No. I mean, isn’t there some other way?”
“Are you going to resist arrest?” He struggled not to grin.
“All you have to do is look on Kevin’s desk. He’s a slob. Even if he noticed that I left the check, he probably wouldn’t bother to move it. That would prove I’m telling the truth. Right?”
“I guess it would.” He was losing it. He wanted that check to be there almost as badly as she did. “Show me where you left it.”
She used the key to let him into an office decorated like the inside of a dumpster. She hadn’t exaggerated about the guy being a slob. His desk was a jumble of soda cans, loose papers, mail, and crumpled fast food bags.
“I was standing here.” She gestured, unintentionally calling attention to her braless state. “He slapped the check down—as if he were giving me a noble gift—then we had some words, and I ran out.”
He was the first to see it. A pale-green check with the Green Thumb logo. Picking it up, he read it and said, “It’s made out to Becky Ryan.”
“That’s me. Becky is short for Rebecca. I told you, remember?”
“I have to believe you now.” He grinned, unable to believe how relieved he felt. Now there was no reason for him to hang around, but he wasn’t about to leave her alone in the deserted building.
“Can I…?” She gave him such a pleading look that he felt it all the way to his groin.
Not good.
“Leave?” he asked. “Yes.”
And the sooner the better.
“Now, can I take my check?”
He couldn’t be that liberal. He was already cutting her too much slack. “We better leave things as they are. You can come back at a more conventional time. Or call and asked him to mail it to you.”
“Okay.” She sounded disappointed, but not defiant.
“Hey, the blue streaks aren’t as bad as you think. They match your eyes.”
“My eyes are hazel. Blue matches your eyes.”
He felt oddly flattered that she had noticed his eye color, and then he was annoyed with himself for being flattered.
“Is there anything out of place here?” he asked.
She nodded.
He helped her straighten up the place, first replacing the office key, then the box she’d stood on, and finally the chair he’d moved for her to sit in.
“Where’s your car?” he asked.
She locked the rear door behind them and gestured at the vehicle parked halfway down the alley.
“I’ll walk you.”
“You really don’t need to do that.”
“I do.” His tone brooked no argument.
His cowboy boots crunched on the gravel, but she walked with soft, almost soundless footfalls in her ballet flats. They’d nearly reached her car when a fierce growl startled him.
“Dobermans in the junkyard.” She laughed nervously. “Thank heavens they’re on the other side of a sturdy fence.”
Becky enjoyed walking beside this tall broad deputy a little too much for her peace of mind. The last thing she wanted was to rebound from Kevin into the well-muscled arms of the law.
After he’d seen her safely to her car, she watched Nathaniel—dangerous sign, already thinking of him by his first name—sprint to where he parked his patrol car.
If Kevin had disposed of that check, she would probably be on her way to the sheriff’s department right now. She was breaking more laws tonight than she had in her entire life. She’d been lucky to get away before the deputy changed his mind and ran her in.
Cards on the table? Deputy Dalton was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. He had eyes like crystal-blue pools and powerful masculine features–offset by brilliant white teeth and dark-brown hair cut short.
She liked his straight, prominent nose, high cheekbones, and square chin. He moved with an uncommon grace for such a tall man, and she’d swear he had zero body fat except maybe on his nicely rounded backside.
“Forget it. He’s too big.” She turned the key in the ignition, but the engine didn’t catch.
He was at least six foot two, and dancing with him would make her feel like a hobbit. The last thing she needed was another big, strong he-man to erode her self-confidence. Her parents called her the runt of the litter, their little preemie baby who always commanded an extra bit of care and attention.
But she was fully grown now and not looking for a superhero to spread his cape over her and make her troubles disappear. She’d moved off the farm and into town to stand on her own two feet. The last thing she needed in her life was some hot deputy.
“Don’t listen to your hormones.” She was getting worried now because all the starter did was click.
Becky gave the starter a minute to rest, hoping it would do its thing and get her out of here. She took off her cowgirl hat and fluffed the blue strands. Maybe she’d overdosed on dye fumes when she’d colored hair.
She tried the engine again, getting an awful feeling about the car when it wouldn’t turn over. At least she wasn’t stranded alone in the middle of the night in this none-too-savory neighborhood.
Deputy Dalton pulled his car close enough to hear the grinding of her starter. He lowered his window. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride. You can have your car towed in the morning.”
Becky hated having to accept his offer. All she wanted was to go home and sleep for a year or at least until her blue hair grew out. Now she had an additional problem. Her car. From the sound of it, the repairs would put a big dent in her credit card.
Her pride wouldn’t let her borrow money from her father. He’d loan it willingly, but not without putting more pressure on her to return home.
The deputy had gotten out of his car and was holding open the front passenger door for her, assuming she’d just hop right in.
“I’ll call a ride,” she said.
“No need,” he said, “when I can drive you home.”
It sounded more like an order than an invitation. She bristled but got into his car.
He got behind the wheel, making the interior feel as crowded as a space capsule. His shoulders were as wide as the driver's seat, and his knees were spread so that one brushed hers.
“I have one stop to make,” he said. “A storage unit on Highway 10. That’s why I’m on this side of town in the first place.”
She knew the place he was talking about. If her finances got any worse, she might have to rent in that area.
“I’ll be just a minute,” Nate said a short time later, pulling up to a row of storage units. “I have to take a box back to my motel.”
He lived in a motel? It was none of her business, but she was curious. However, she wouldn’t even ask.
True to his word, he quickly found what he wanted and dumped it into his patrol vehicle and got back behind the wheel.
Okay, she had to ask. Curiosity got the better of her every time. “You live in a motel?”
“Temporary.”
He wasn’t forthcoming, which only piqued her interest more. “Did you lose your home?”
“I just moved to Falling Star. I’ve only been here a month.”
“Where you from?”
“Fort Worth.”
“And you haven’t found an apartment yet?”
“No time to look. Been working my
butt off since I got here. The sheriff’s department is woefully short-staffed, and I hit the ground running.”
He said nothing else on the route across town.
“Nice house,” he said when he pulled to a stop in front of the charming late Victorian house that had been converted into a four-unit apartment building.
“Maybe I shouldn’t mention this,” she said, ignoring the warning voice booming inside her head. “My landlady is really picky about her tenants, but one of the rooms here is vacant. It is actually the nicest apartment—ground floor, high ceilings, hardwood floors. I was tempted to move downstairs myself, but it cost one hundred and fifty dollars a month more than mine.”
“Hmm. I might think about it.”
Immediately, she was sorry she’d mentioned the apartment. She didn’t want him for a neighbor. “Come to think of it, you probably wouldn’t like it here. It’s a creaky old house and there never seems to be enough hot water.”
“Would you mind giving me your landlady’s number? It’s probably not what I’m looking for, but I am tired of motel living, not to mention becoming the butt of the homeless jokes at work.”
She gave him the number, watching while he scrawled it in a little notebook. Then she thanked him for the ride and hurried up to the house.
He didn’t drive away.
She found the key under the doormat and gave him a halfhearted wave, but still he didn’t budge.
Feeling as if she’d lost a game of chicken, she unlocked the door and ducked inside.
Well, that was a night to remember.
3
A week later, Becky pulled into her parking spot, elated because she finally had a job that could lead to better things and the cost of repairing her car had been minimal.
She’d landed a position as assistant manager of the new garden center going in off the interstate. Although the grand opening was still four weeks away. But what the heck? All she had to do was make a tank of gas last until her first paycheck and live on the food in her kitchen. Kevin’s severance check had paid her monthly bills and the repair of her hair dye disaster. Fortunately, her beloved cat Ozzie had an enormous bag of kibble in the pantry.
Things might be tight for a bit, but she could get through this without asking her parents for money or running up her credit card.
She’d avoided Deputy Dalton since he’d snatched up the downstairs apartment the day after she told him about it.
The man didn’t waste time. He leased it on Thursday, much to her landlady’s delight, and on Saturday half the sheriff’s department showed up to help him unload a rented truck.
Or so the landlady, Mrs. Vander Polder told her, gushing like Old Faithful because it thrilled her to have live-in police protection.
She had just opened her car door open when Deputy Dalton pulled in beside her.
He waved.
Drat. This time there was no escaping. She’d look like an idiot if she started the car and backed out when he had seen her. She was as cornered as she’d been that night at the Green Thumb.
For such a sizeable man, he really moved fast. He was out of his car and standing in front of her Toyota before she could think of some witty remark to brush him off.
“How’s my favorite cat burglar?” He grinned as big as a moon pie.
“The only cat I know is my four-legged mouse-chasing bestie.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised you have a cat.”
Why was he grinning like he’d struck gold? And why was he looking her over from her newly restored blond hair to the hem of the plaid skirt she’d worn for her second interview at the garden center?
His gaze felt more intimate than the thorough pat-down he’d given her last week.
“Why would you think I have any pets?” She brushed cat hair from her sleeve and felt the involuntary warmth of her cheeks flushing.
Darn, this man made her uncomfortable. And the worst of it was, he really was nice in his own way.
“I dunno. I guess I see you as someone who likes to cuddle,” he said.
“Really?” That irritated her.
She got out of the car, then remembered the thick policy manual the garden center had given her to study after she accepted their offer that morning. Leaning into the car to get it from the passenger seat, she could practically feel his eyes staring at the way her skirt rode up whenever she bent over.
Eyeball all you like, she wanted to say, but hands off.
“Need any help?” he asked.
“No, thank you.”
He had a home now. Why didn’t he go to it?
“I guess you got your check from your ex.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Your hair looks fantastic.”
It was hard to be snippy to a guy passing out compliments, but words were her only weapon against the big lug. She didn’t want him to like her. It might tempt her to like him right back, and she’d just gotten out of the frying pan. She wasn’t looking to jump into the fire.
“Thanks to you, I had to wear a dorky-looking scarf to three job interviews before Courtney at Green Thumb mailed the check to me.”
“You get a job?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t start until next month.” She banged her car door shut.
“Congratulations.” He paused. “Aren’t you going to lock your door?”
He sounded like her father. Would she ever be free of men who wanted to tell her what to do? This one didn’t just make suggestions; he opened the door and locked her car himself.
“What if I’m leaving again in a few minutes?” she asked.
“Are you?”
“No, but you didn’t know that.”
“It’s only common sense to lock your car doors,” he said. “What was wrong with your car the other night?”
He was blocking her escape route, standing so close that she caught the scent of his aftershave and the outdoorsy tang of his skin under the blistering sun.
The man wore a western-style dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his powerful forearms, dark-wash denim Wranglers, and cowboy boots. A tweed sports jacket was slung over one shoulder, and his belt buckle was the size of a dinner plate.
He’d probably look sharper with a bolo tie cinched around his neck, but right now he looked hot and mussed, and sexy enough to leave an army of star-struck women in his wake.
But not her. No way.
“It was just the battery,” she said, unable to meet his intense gaze. “No biggie.”
The sexual currents surging between them were strong enough to recharge a battery, but chemistry like this could only lead to trouble. Been there, done that, no need to repeat.
“Glad it was nothing serious,” he said, his voice exceptionally deep. How did he make conversational chitchat sound like pillow talk?
He didn’t; she scolded herself. It was her overheated imagination.
“Well, see you,” she said, feinting to the right, then charging past him on the left, a move she learned from her brothers when they’d grudgingly let her play touch football with them.
She hugged the bulky training manual to her chest and race-walked to the front entrance that opened into a small entryway shared by the two front apartments, his and hers. The other two apartments shared the back entrance.
It took one key to get into the house and another to open the individual apartments. Her unit was upstairs above Deputy Dalton’s. Becky had the key to the outer door poised to enter the lock when a bronzed arm shot around her, beating her to the keyhole.
“By the way,” he said, “I took the spare key to the front door from under the mat.”
“Well, you can put it back. I don’t bother carrying my keys when I go out at night.”
“Let me guess. There’s another key under the rug by your door?” He gestured toward the top of the stairs. “You might as well put out a burglar’s welcome sign on the front lawn.”
“You’re paranoid. I can’t fit a bunch of keys into the clutch purse I use
on dates.”
“Be creative. Put a key in your shoe or bra. I’m not living in a building where people hide keys in obvious places.”
“You wouldn’t be living here at all if I hadn’t told you about the vacancy.”
“Yes, thank you for that. I mean it.” His eyes crinkled when he smiled. Electrifying blue eyes.
She caught herself shifting from one foot to the other, fidgeting in front of him when she should have been sprinting up the stairs. She couldn’t feel squirmier and more off-balance if the man had x-ray vision. He had no right to notice or comment on where she kept her keys.
“I’m always happy to help an officer of the law,” she said, hoping he’d recognize insincerity when he heard it.
This conversation was going nowhere, which suited her just fine. There were half a dozen things she would like to know about him, such as how did he keep his waist so slim when his shoulders and chest were so broad? And was the rest of his body as tanned as his arms and his face?
But she had been down this path before. He seemed a lot nicer than Kevin, but what man wasn’t a sweetheart in the first blush of getting to know him?
“See you.” She sauntered over to the stairway, hoping to impress him with her casual indifference.
Indifference? Ha!
She wanted to sit on his lap and let her fingers play peekaboo between his shirt buttons. She wanted to nuzzle his throat and see what happened from there.
Oh, good gravy! She needed a keeper. Forget about a dignified exit.
She raced up the stairs and didn’t look back, retrieving the key from under the braided rug she kept on the hardwood floor in front of her door. She would keep her key wherever she darn well liked, and he could stick one up his nose if he didn’t approve.
She slammed the door, feeling as if she’d had a narrow escape. No way was she going to let that bossy gorgeous cop get to her.
Nate knew he shouldn’t have watched her go up the stairs. Erotic daydreams would plague him about the sway of her cute little bottom for hours.
