The Texas Lawman's Woman

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “A few times,” he acknowledged, wiping his hands with a rag.

  “And you are good friends with Shelley,” Mitzy observed.

  Although Shelley hadn’t kicked him out last night, right after they’d made love—instead, he’d been the one who’d had to leave to take the early shift on patrol—Colt wished he and Shelley were a lot more than a temporary hookup to each other. He wanted to know they had a future together.

  Returning his attention to the conversation, Colt turned to Mitzy. “What do you want to know about the property?”

  Her lips pursed thoughtfully. “Is there any reason why I shouldn’t bid on the Meyerson house that you know about? Anything major wrong with the plumbing or electrical or anything we can’t see from the outside?”

  Colt hesitated, not sure how to answer that. Yes, the house seemed to be in good shape, structurally and cosmetically. But beyond that he didn’t really know. So he couldn’t in all good conscience answer.

  “I mean, would you bid on the place, personally, if you didn’t already have a house?”

  That was easy to answer with absolute honesty. “No,” Colt said firmly. “I wouldn’t.” Because I would never do that to Shelley. Unless, of course, she asked.

  Mitzy took a different tack. “Would you advise me to bid on the house?”

  Colt shrugged. “It depends on how you feel about bank-owned properties, I guess.”

  Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  More confident now that he was on solid intellectual ground, Colt related what he knew about foreclosed homes in general. “Some people think, because of how the owners came to be evicted, that the properties have bad karma or worry that the residence could be in bad shape. Others look at the repossessed dwellings and just see a bargain, pure and simple. They’re not concerned about whatever the circumstances were that led to the place being abandoned, and just want a home at rock-bottom price.”

  Mitzy narrowed her eyes at him. “So is this your roundabout way of telling me not to bid on the house?”

  “No.” Colt exhaled wearily. “Not at all.” Although if that was what Mitzy took away from the conversation, who was he to say her instincts were wrong?

  “But you won’t tell me it’s a great opportunity and advise me to bid on it, either...will you?”

  How could he? Colt wondered, feeling even more conflicted. Truth was, the house on Spring Street was still Shelley’s home at heart, and the place where she wanted to put down roots and raise her son.

  “Never mind,” Mitzy said hastily, lifting a palm. “You don’t have to answer that, Colt. I probably shouldn’t have asked it anyway. It’s really not ethical, given the fact you personally oversaw the eviction. We’re both employees of the county, and the county has been tasked with the sale for the bank.”

  He cleared his throat. “Thanks for understanding.”

  Unfortunately, Mitzy wasn’t the only one inquiring. Colt had four more phone calls that afternoon, two more that evening. Everyone phrased the same questions. He told them all the same thing. He couldn’t recommend they buy it. He couldn’t recommend they not make a bid. He couldn’t recommend anything. Period.

  The one thing he did know was that this much interest in a house up for auction was not good. Not where Shelley and her son were concerned.

  * * *

  “HOW IS SHELLEY DOING?” Rio asked Colt Monday morning as the two of them headed into the briefing room for the preshift report.

  Colt hadn’t actually seen her since they’d made love Saturday night. Not that he hadn’t tried. Between his work and hers, and the prewedding stuff she had to do to get ready for Kendall and Gerry’s nuptials, she just hadn’t had time to spend with him. Or maybe she hadn’t wanted to for fear they were getting too close?

  “She’s okay,” Colt told Rio as they sat down, “considering everything that’s gone on with her lately.”

  “Yeah, I heard about the horrendous plumbing problems,” another deputy sympathized, sinking into the chair in front of Colt.

  “I thought it was the electrical work.” A third deputy joined the conversation.

  “No. It was the furnace,” argued a fourth.

  A red-haired female deputy threw in, “She has an HVAC, fellas, which means the air-conditioning and the heat are both on the blink, too.”

  Colt shoved a hand through his hair. Since when had Shelley’s financial difficulties become the concern of the entire sheriff’s department? “Where did you hear all this?” he asked with a frown.

  Another female deputy shrugged. “It’s all over town. A lot of people were thinking about bidding on the property, until they heard the truth. That Shelley let her house go under foreclosure because she just wasn’t going to be able to afford the massive repairs it needed.”

  “And it’s a shame,” another said, “because on the exterior, anyway, that is one beautiful home.”

  A contemplative silence fell.

  Colt considered correcting the misinformation. But knew if he did, that the bidding would begin in earnest the next morning...and Shelley would lose her house for sure. So as much as the ethical part of him wanted to set the record straight, the part of him that was close to her couldn’t be responsible for that. Eventually someone asked, “Is it possible she can buy it back for herself at a reduced price—at auction—and afford all the repairs that way?”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.” Rio frowned. “Otherwise, people whose homes were valued less than the loan would let them go, and then just go back and rebuy them at auction for a much lower price.”

  “Not many people would have the cash to do that,” Colt felt compelled to point out.

  “But some could,” Rio persisted, “and an unethical action like that with just one property could subsequently devalue all nearby homes. Which wouldn’t be fair to the people who were conscientiously paying their mortgage, underwater or not.”

  “Still,” another officer speculated compassionately, “that house has been in Shelley’s family for three generations. I can’t see her letting it go without a fight.”

  She wasn’t, Colt thought, but leery of letting what he knew of Shelley’s private business become public until the district attorney made a decision whether or not to file charges against her ex-husband, he kept silent.

  Oblivious to his dilemma, the red-haired deputy couldn’t help wondering, “So if Shelley’s not going to buy her family home back herself because she can’t do so legally...just what is her plan, Colt? How’s she going to make sure the property doesn’t sell tomorrow? And earn herself another month before it goes up on the block again...?”

  * * *

  SHELLEY HAD BEEN GETTING ODD looks all day. It started with her morning introduction to ballet class for preschoolers, continued through the noon session of swing dance for seniors, and was still going on as she finished up a Zumba class for new moms.

  Conversations were started in whispers, and abruptly stopped when she neared. And on top of that everyone was super nice to her when they did say hello.

  Nice, in a pitying sort of way.

  So it was really no surprise when just after her jazz-tap class for high school girls concluded that Colt walked in. Clad in his khaki uniform, holster on his hip, hat slanted low across his brow, he looked masculine and sexy. To the point all the high school girls gathering up their things nearly swooned. He swaggered toward her, his midnight-blue eyes locked unwaveringly on hers. “Got a minute?”

  Her pulse jumped. Acutely aware of him, as well as all the curious eyes upon them, she nodded. “Two, maybe. I’ve got another class starting shortly.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “About tomorrow? You can’t go to the auction.”

  Shelley didn’t know what was more annoying—the steel in his voice, or the presumption he could tell her wha
t to do. “Refresh my memory. At what point did you become my social secretary?”

  He remained implacable, despite her sarcasm. “It’s just not a good idea.”

  Why? Did he think she was going to make a scene?

  Colt continued. “Your presence there could be perceived as an attempt to be influential.”

  “And may prevent people from bidding,” Shelley guessed.

  Colt gave a slight shrug and kept his gaze meshed with hers. “It’s possible.”

  Unsure whether he was trying to protect her or warn her, Shelley retorted, “Then that would be a good thing. Wouldn’t it? Since I don’t want the property to sell.”

  He grimaced. “I’ve been tasked with helping to oversee the proceedings. My job there will be to keep law and order.”

  What was it with this lawman? Always showing up at the worst possible time for her? “And you couldn’t have refused this particular assignment?” she queried drily.

  For a second, she thought he wouldn’t answer her. Finally, he clenched his jaw and said, “No.”

  “Like you couldn’t avoid the actual eviction of me from the property, either.”

  Colt looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but there. “It’s complicated, Shelley.”

  Just like her feelings for him.... One minute she thought she was falling in love with him, the next, she was as wary of him as ever. “I guess so.”

  Since I can’t stop wanting you, even when I don’t want to desire you.

  Colt looked pained. “I’m not doing this to make you angry with me,” he said, folding his arms across his brawny chest.

  “Really?” Shelley shot back, suddenly feeling close to tears. “Because you’re doing a pretty good job of it, Deputy McCabe.”

  A palpable tension filled the air. Colt turned and briefly surveyed the watching crowd. He seemed to be weighing what to do and say next. Finally, his eyes cut back to hers, and his tone was considerably softer. “I think your house might not sell, in any case....”

  “Then from your lips to God’s ear,” she murmured back, needing his tenderness as much as she needed his steady, reassuring presence in her life. Because she really needed more time to work things out on her end. And auctions of foreclosed properties were only held once a month, on the courthouse steps. So if her house didn’t sell tomorrow, she’d have four more weeks to come up with something. And wouldn’t that be a bonus.

  Colt stepped closer, his gaze a lot less official. “Any further word from the D.A.?” he asked.

  Across the room, the parents and kids from the previous class streamed out, while the next class streamed in. Keeping one eye on the clock, Shelley nodded. “The prosecutor’s office will file formal charges once they verify everything I’ve told them. Unfortunately, it won’t be in advance of the auction.”

  “What about your ex?” he asked gruffly. “Have you heard from Tully?”

  “No. He seems to have gone into hiding.”

  Colt snorted in contempt. “After what he told the bank, I’m not surprised.”

  “Me, either.” Tully had to know he was in deep trouble, the kind that smooth talking and good old boy charm would not get him out of.

  Colt continued watching her. “Do you have plans for tonight?”

  Shelley wasn’t sure if he was offering as a friend or a lover.

  Not that it mattered, since, when it came to Colt and the upcoming wedding, she had much more important things to worry about.

  “Actually...I was hoping you’d come over to my place,” she said, keeping her real agenda under wraps.

  “Want me to bring anything?”

  Glad he hadn’t suspected what she had planned, Shelley murmured, “Just yourself.”

  * * *

  BOX OF SHELLEY’S FAVORITE Godiva chocolates in hand, Colt took the stairs two at a time up to her apartment. She’d asked him to arrive after Austin was asleep—and that could only mean one thing.

  She was ready to pick up where they’d left off.

  Which was true, it turned out. Just not the way he thought.

  Colt blinked as she ushered him toward the center of the room, which had been taped off to resemble an aisle, similar to the one at the church. The portable stereo was set up. She was clad in what he had come to recognize as her workout clothes—a white spandex tank top, sexy black stretch pants and high-heeled red shoes with a strap across the arch. “You asked me over for a private dance lesson?”

  Shelley wrinkled her nose. “You can’t deny you need it.” She popped the lid off the chocolates and helped herself to one shaped like a seashell. “We didn’t get very far in our last lesson...”

  Wondering how he was going to get out of this, he ate one, too. “That I remember.” As well as what followed.

  Shelley read his mind with her usual ease. “Just so you’re aware? That is not going to happen again. We’re here to work tonight.” She slapped the lid on the box of chocolates.

  A fierce hunger tugged at him. Damned if she wasn’t pretty when she was holding him at arm’s length. Shrugging matter-of-factly, he sauntered close enough to inhale the intoxicating fragrance of her perfume. “You never know. When I’m holding you close...”

  She harrumphed, all business. Pine-green eyes locked with his, her hand to the center of his chest, she shoved him a safe distance away. “That’s not going to happen tonight because I’m going to make you dance your booty off.”

  And work it she did. For the next three hours, Shelley made him listen to the two songs they were using for the processional and the recessional over and over again. Back and forth they went, across her apartment living room, her hands all over him in a strictly professional way that, while instructional, still drove him mad.

  “Finally—” Shelley beamed as the clock approached midnight, and they moved together in perfect rhythm “—you’re getting the hang of it.”

  About time, Colt thought. He was aching all over, and not just from the exertion. He spun her around, caught her against him, and then eased her off her feet into a slow, sultry dip. He winked. “I’m nothing if not a slow learner.” Gradually, he brought her back to a standing position beside him.

  Shelley shot him a sassy look. “In some things.”

  Deciding he’d had more than enough fancy footwork for one night, Colt gathered her close once again. This time, he didn’t let go. “And in other things,” he teased her provocatively, “I’ve never needed any lessons at all.” Nor, had she....

  Shelley replied hoarsely, “This wasn’t in the plan for tonight.”

  He threaded a hand through her hair, tilting her head up to his. “Maybe not yours...” But it had certainly been in his.

  Her sudden air of vulnerability told him she thought he was moving way too fast. Problem was, trying to contain his feelings for her had never worked in the past. It wasn’t working now.

  He brought her against him, determined to prove to her that this time they couldn’t just walk away. They owed it to themselves to explore the fierce pull of their attraction that was truly beyond their control. Because if there was one thing Colt knew for certain, it was that only Shelley could make him feel this way.

  * * *

  SHELLEY KNEW SHE SHOULD SAY NO. Ask Colt to slow down. Give them time to sort everything out before they jumped into lovemaking again. However, her heart propelled her in the opposite direction. The truth was she needed to lean on him tonight and lose herself in pleasure as surely as they had lost themselves in the dancing. And if the way he was kissing and caressing her through her clothes was any indication, he needed her, too.

  “You are so bad for me,” she scolded, guiding him over to the sofa.

  When he fell back onto the cushions, she sprawled on top of him.

  He threaded his hands through her hair. “And you,” he
told her huskily, diving into yet another kiss, “are so good for me.”

  Shelley couldn’t dispute the seriousness of his claim, any more than she could dispute the raw honesty in his kiss. She opened her mouth to his, letting his tongue sweep her mouth, caressing his in return, finding solace...finding strength.

  She knew they were moving too fast. She didn’t care. She wanted him. Still kissing him ardently, she undid the buttons. With his help, she got it all the way off and tossed it onto the floor. He did the same with her spandex tank top and soft, stretchy bra. Smiling at him tenderly, both of them naked from the waist up, Shelley settled more fully on his lap and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her arms wreathed his neck, and still they kissed, her breasts nestled in the hard, hair-covered surface of his chest.

  Until even that wasn’t enough.

  He shifted her again, pulled her to a standing position with him and gave her the once-over that let her know how very beautiful she was in his eyes.

  “You’re perfect. You know that, don’t you?” he murmured.

  Shelley grinned. Gripping his hand, she did a little pirouette. “You certainly make me feel that way.”

  He kissed her shoulder, the nape of her neck, the curve of her breast. He made his way to the hollow, then the erect tips, suckling gently. “And I want you naked.”

  With the rest of her aching to be touched, too, Shelley whispered back, “Sounds good to me.”

  Excitement roaring through her, Shelley tugged at his jeans. He peeled off her pants. They kicked free of the rest of their clothes. His eyes filled with a combination of possession, lust and something very close to love, Colt danced her backward to the wall. Shelley made a soft, involuntary sound in the back of her throat, her body as compliant and ready as her knees were weak. Her wrists in his hands, he pinned her hands on either side of her head, the hardness of his sex dipping down to press against the softness of hers.

  The erotic friction of his body slowly, rhythmically teasing hers drove her wild. As did his long, hot, openmouthed kisses, the hard press of his muscular chest against her bare breasts. And she still wanted more.