COWBOY WITH A BADGE

by Margaret Watson

  "I'd love to," Carly answered.

  Shea nodded. "I'll see you bright and early, then."

  They watched her walk out of the room, then Devlin leaned back in his chair. "It sounds like Shea has taken you under her wing."

  "She's made me feel very welcome." She felt her mouth curl into a smile. "I couldn't resist going with her to check on the cattle in the back pasture. She made it sound like the best treat there is."

  "To Shea, it is. She can't imagine doing anything but work this ranch."

  "I know." She smiled. "A few weeks ago, I wouldn't have understood that. Now I think I do."

  "Do you, Carly?" He tilted his head and watched her.

  She nodded slowly. "Yes. There's something special about this land, this part of the country. I thought I would miss the city, miss all the plays, the stores, the excitement. But I haven't missed it at all."

  "You've only been here a little more than a week."

  "That's true." She watched him steadily. "It sounds like you think I'm pretty shallow. That I'll miss the city eventually."

  "Don't you think you will?" he asked carefully. "That is your home, after all."

  "I don't know. Maybe. I don't miss it now, though."

  He looked as if he wanted to challenge her, as if he didn't want to believe her. He studied her for a moment, then looked as if he'd made a decision. "Come on outside with me for a while," he said. "The ranch is beautiful at dusk."

  As they were walking out of the house, he snagged a couple of jackets from the rack by the door and handed her one. "Here, take this. It gets chilly once the sun goes down."

  It was one of his coats. The sleeves were ridiculously long, hanging past the ends of her fingers, and she could have wrapped the coat around herself twice. She put it on and snuggled into it. Dev's scent permeated the material, rising up and surrounding her as she walked out of the house. It left a sharp ache inside her, an ache she didn't want to acknowledge.

  As they walked down the steps, she stopped abruptly and gasped. The sky shimmered above them, painted with too many shades of pink and purple to count. The mountains glowed with the reflected light, the reds and purples of the rock blending into the sunset, until the air felt alive with color, throbbing with it.

  "Pretty amazing, isn't it?" Devlin said softly.

  "I've never seen anything like it," she answered, unable to tear her gaze away from the sight. "It looks so different, and we're not that far from Cameron."

  "It's the mountains. Or maybe it's just the Red Rock." Even in the semidarkness, she saw his mouth soften. "This is a special place."

  "You're very fortunate," she said quietly.

  Finally he looked at her. "I know that, and so does Shea. The Red Rock will always be our home."

  "I envy you your home, your family."

  "We make our own homes. And you have a family, too."

  "Not anymore. And I never had a family like yours. I never knew what it felt like to be loved unconditionally."

  "I'm sorry."

  She saw the sympathy in his eyes and immediately regretted letting the words slip past her guard. "It was a long time ago." Her voice was light. "I'm a big girl now, and I get along just fine on my own."

  "Maybe that's the problem, Carly."

  "What do you mean, the problem?"

  "Maybe you need to learn that you can't always get along on your own."

  "It's worked for me for a long time."

  "And are you happy?"

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder and tucked her hands into her pockets. "My work is very satisfying, and I love what I'm doing. I'm respected in my profession." She shrugged her shoulders. "What more can I ask?"

  She felt him studying her, but refused to meet his gaze. "A lot more, I think."

  Instead of continuing to speak, he took her elbow and walked her over to the fence around the pasture closest to the house. "What you do for a living is important. Hell, you'd better enjoy it, because you're going to be doing it for a long time. But it's not the most important thing in life."

  He turned to face her. "Your family is what's important, the people you're tied to by blood and by birth. Because when the chips are down, those are the people who are going to be there for you, no questions asked. Those are the people who will stand by you and stand up for you. Those are the people you can trust, the people you can count on, no matter what. And I'm sorry you don't have that in your life."

  But she did, she realized suddenly. Edmund wasn't alive, but she was doing for him exactly what Devlin was talking about. She was the only person he had left who could stand up for him, who could get to the truth of his murder. She was the only person Edmund could count on.

  And by standing up for Edmund, she was endangering Devlin's family.

  She turned and leaned on the fence, her heart heavy. Sooner or later, she would be forced to choose. And she knew that was something she didn't want to do.

  "What are you thinking about?"

  Devlin's voice tickled the hair on the side of her head. He was too close, so close that she could smell the after-dinner coffee on his breath, smell the faint aftershave he'd probably applied that morning. Her heart rolled in her chest, slow, tumbling movements that made her breathless.

  But she had to remember what she was doing here, why she was on the Red Rock Ranch. So she said lightly, "I'm thinking that I wish I was a photographer, instead of a writer. It's the only way to do justice to this magnificent sunset."

  She felt Devlin settle his arms on the top rail of the fence. "I tried to take pictures of it when I was younger. It never looked the same on a piece of paper. The colors were there, but not the feeling. It was like someone had taken the soul out of the scenery. It was flat, just a series of pretty colors. I stopped taking the photographs after a while. I decided to make it a point to watch the sunset itself every night."

  "You're lucky you can come home every night to watch the sunset."

  "I don't make it every night. Lately I've been making it home less and less. Eventually I'll probably move into Cameron."

  "How come? You're not that far away."

  She saw his mouth curl up in a half smile. "One of these days, Shea is going to get married. She and her husband will want the house to themselves."

  She noticed he didn't say anything about getting married himself. "Is Shea seeing someone? She didn't mention it to me."

  He grinned at that. "Shea doesn't have time to think about anything but this ranch. Or so she says. But one of these days, a man is going to come along who's going to change that for her. Or at least I hope so."

  "What about you?" she asked lightly. "Maybe you'll want to live here with a wife."

  The smile disappeared from his face. "Not likely. I told you before, I'm not a marrying kind of guy."

  She studied him for a moment, watched his hard eyes, his tight mouth. "Someday you'll have to tell me about that."

  Slowly he looked over at her. "Maybe I will. And maybe someday you'll tell me about your family."

  She nodded as her eyes slid away. "Maybe so."

  They looked out over the pasture again as the color dimmed above them and the sky began to darken to navy blue. "I've got good news," he said finally, his light voice declaring that the time for exchanging confidences was over. "You'll be getting your Jeep back tomorrow."

  "Are you going to help me move the stones behind it?" she asked eagerly.

  "It's already been done. I had Ben Jackson and one of the other deputies do it this afternoon."

  "Thank you, but I wanted to help. You didn't have to ask your deputies to do that."

  "We weren't doing you a favor, Carly. It was a police job." She felt chilled suddenly, even though she'd been warm a moment earlier. "Why is that?"

  "Ben found some evidence, up on the cliff, that the rock slide wasn't accidental. They were faint, but there were some footprints that didn't belong there."

  "You mean there was actually someone up there, pushing those rocks down
on me?"

  "You've made at least one enemy here in Cameron," he said. She stared out at the pasture. The moon was beginning to rise, and it cast a ghostly white light over the cattle, off in the distance. I tried to tell myself that the message on the mirror was just a crank who didn't like reporters, and that the bolts in the tires were the trick of a kid, someone who didn't know what would happen to the car. I didn't want it to be personal." She turned to him and tried to smile. "I guess it is now, though."

  He gripped her shoulders through the jacket, and even through the material, she felt the urgency of his hands. "It's been personal all along, Carly. You know that. I've got to find out who killed that Whitmore boy, because I have a feeling that when we know that, we'll know who's been trying to kill you."

  "You don't believe it was a drifter?"

  "No drifter from twenty years ago put those bolts in your tires, or pushed those rocks down on top of you." His voice was grim.

  If you publicize what's happening, everyone will find out about your father's missing gun. They'll suspect he was involved."

  "What difference does that make?"

  Her heart ached for him. "I don't want to hurt your family, Dev. And it looks as if that's just what I'm doing."

  His eyes softened. "You can't hurt my family, because none of us were involved."

  She felt as if she'd started a boulder rolling down a hill. Now it was picking up speed, and she had no control over it anymore. And she had no control over where it would stop, or what it would flatten on its way down. "I'm sorry, Dev," she whispered.

  "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said.

  But she did. Before she could tell him so, his hands tightened on her shoulders and he pulled her closer. "Don't look like that, Carly," he muttered. "Don't look like you've lost your last friend in the world. I'll take care of you. No one's going to hurt you."

  She wanted to tell him that wasn't what she was afraid of. She wanted to tell him she was afraid she would hurt him. But suddenly his eyes flared hot, and he speared his fingers through her hair.

  "I swore I wouldn't do this, Carly. I promised myself I wouldn't touch you while you were on my ranch. But I'm going to have to break my promise."

  His head dipped down and captured her mouth. His kiss wasn't tentative, didn't ask permission. It seared her soul, branded her. No other man had ever kissed her before, and no one would ever kiss her again. Not like Devlin.

  She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. They fit together perfectly, the softness of her body molding to the hardness of his. Once again, Carly felt like she'd come home. But instead of frightening her, she gloried in the rightness.

  He trailed his hands down her back, beneath the jacket, and her pulse quickened. She felt the urgency of his touch, the need he could barely suppress. And her body responded. When she brought one hand around and touched his chest, she felt him tense. And when she reached for his shirt, bunching it in her hand at his belt, he trembled beneath her fingers.

  The muscles of his abdomen were rock hard beneath her palm. He quivered when she moved her fingers, tangling them in the silky-soft hair on his chest. Slowly she touched one of his flat male nipples, and when it hardened immediately, she felt an answering tightening, deep in her abdomen.

  He groaned into her mouth, his hands tightening on her hip. But he didn't move to stop her, didn't move to touch her. He allowed her to continue her exploration. She lingered on the tight nub for a moment, then slid over and touched its mate. It, too, hardened immediately. When she slipped her other hand under his shirt so she could touch both his nipples at once, she felt his legs trembling against hers.

  Suddenly he cupped his hands on her hips and pulled her against him, cradling her in the V of his legs. He was huge and hard against her, and she could feel his heat, even through their layers of clothes. He fumbled with the waistband of her slacks, then slid his hands down over her hips.

  The calluses on his hands scraped against her skin, sending sparks of desire shooting through her. One of his hands dipped close to her intimate heat, making her throb with need. When she felt his other hand fumbling with the buttons on her blouse, she felt her breasts tighten, anticipating his touch.

  As her blouse and bra fell open, she felt the night breeze brush her skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. "More beautiful than I remembered." He bent down and brushed his lips over one breast, not touching the aching peak.

  "Please," she begged.

  He smoothed his hand between her breasts, touching the small key that hung at the end of the velvet cord, but again carefully avoiding her nipples. "What do you want, Carly?" he whispered.

  "Touch me. Please."

  His hand tightened on her, then he bent down and took one peak in his mouth. He suckled it, then smoothed his tongue over it with gentle swirls. By the time he moved to her other breast, she was writhing beneath his hands, unable to stop herself from moaning his name.

  She ached for him. Her body trembled in his hands, until she wasn't sure where she ended and he began. She hadn't known that desire was a living thing, twisting and growing inside you until it possessed you completely.

  She reached for him blindly, trying to press closer at the same time as she fumbled with the buckle on his belt, determined that their loving would not be one-sided this time. He stilled when she touched him, then began to tremble when she cupped her hand around the hard ridge of his erection that strained against the front of his jeans.

  By the time she'd freed him from his jeans and briefs, he was shaking against her. He was hot and heavy in her hands, hard and smooth as velvet. When she touched the tip of him with one finger, he surged against her, pinning her against one of the fence posts.

  He pulled at her slacks, trying to push them over her hips, when his hands stilled suddenly on her. The next moment he pulled her against him and stepped into the shadow of a huge pine that stood next to the pasture.

  Then she heard it, too. Voices that she recognized as belonging to Levi and Joe drifted over to her. She tried frantically to pull up her slacks, to button her shirt, but Devlin stilled her hands.

  "It's okay. They can't see us," he breathed into her ear.

  He stood holding her for a long minute, until the voices faded away, then he stepped back. He pulled the edges of her blouse together, then repaired his own clothing. When he looked at her again, his face was grim.

  "I'm sorry, Carly. I'd promised myself I wouldn't do that again."

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  «^»

  Carly leaned against the, fence in the moonlight, and Devlin shoved his hands into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for her. Her mouth was swollen, her lips dark red and puffy. Her blouse was crooked and her hair was mussed. Her eyes looked dreamy and unfocused—just like a woman who'd been making love.

  Which they would have been doing in another moment, he told himself grimly. Thank God that Levi and Joe had come along when they did. The cowboys had saved him from himself.

  Because making love with Carly wouldn't be a casual roll in the hay. He knew that now. If he didn't touch her, didn't make love with her, he could pretend that she didn't matter. He could tell himself that she just caused an itch that needed scratching, and he would be fine once she left town.

  But if he let down the barriers enough to make love to her, he would never be the same. She'd take a part of his heart with her when she left Cameron, and he'd never get it back. He didn't intend for that to happen.

  "Let's get you back to the house," he said, his voice gruff. "You must be getting chilly."

  "Actually, I was too warm." Her husky voice sounded like she'd just gotten out of bed, and arousal flashed through him again.

  "I'm ready to call it a night," he said, and he damned the desperation he heard in his voice.

  She studied him for a moment, then pulled the jacket more closely around herself. "You're right. It is getting chilly out here."

&nbs
p; She pushed past him, heading for the house. He caught up with her just before she reached the porch.

  "Wait, Carly."

  Her back was ramrod stiff, but she turned around slowly. "What?"

  "Are you angry because we didn't jump in the sack?"

  She flinched at the crude language, but didn't look away from him. "No. I never wanted to 'jump into the sack' with you. I'm not interested in casual sex, with you or anyone else. I am interested in why you push me away every time we get close."

  "Can you tell me that any relationship we might have would be more than casual sex?" he demanded. "How long are you planning on staying in Cameron, anyway? Or are you going to give up your job in New York and move out to Utah? I'm sure as hell not planning on moving to New York, so exactly where does that leave us?"

  Her eyes never wavered. "I have no idea, Devlin. But I guess we'll never know, because you don't seem willing to even try and find out." She looked over toward the bunkhouse where the three hands lived. "Instead of being angry at the interruption, I should be thanking Levi and Joe for coming by when they did. They saved me from making a huge mistake."

  Something twisted inside him at her words, something raw and painful. But she was right. It was nothing more than he'd been telling himself. He didn't have anything to give her, and it was a good thing she'd finally realized it. Now maybe she would finish her story and get the hell out of Cameron, before he forgot that he wasn't interested in a relationship with her.

  "I'll see you in the morning, Carly." He looked at her face in the moonlight. Her eyes were huge and dark, and full of pain. It was better that way, he told himself. Better that she should hurt now. It would hurt far worse if she let herself hope for anything more from him.

  "Good night, Devlin." Her words were so soft they were barely more than a breath of air on the night breeze. She stood for a moment more, then turned and ran silently up the stairs and into the house.

  He stayed outside for a long time. He wanted to make sure she was in bed and asleep before he passed her room on his way to bed. If he heard her moving around, if he knew she was awake, he might do something they both would regret.