Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  The corners of Logan’s eyes crinkled as he grinned. “Well, then, we won’t disappoint her.” He stepped aside.

  Remy entered the house and froze. Dried stalks of corn bundled in threes were propped against doorways and the staircase. Squashes, pumpkins, and pots of brilliant red mums were spread around the base. Orange and yellow streamers coiled the handrail and dangled from the saloon-style doors leading to the kitchen. Multitudes of small red candles scattered throughout the house added a warm glow to the muted lighting. When he’d been here on Monday, there wasn’t a trace of a paper turkey. Now the place looked like Martha Stewart exploded all over. What other secrets did Cody keep?

  Logan took the dish from Remy. “Cody!”

  The female laughter coming from the kitchen ended and the swinging doors parted, Remy’s breath lodged in his throat at the sight of Cody in a flowing pink and tan top and black curve-hugging jeans with a crystal studded belt cinched around her hips. His fingers itched to slide through the silky hair framing her face. Her boot heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she approached.

  She graced him with a sly smile. “Happy Thanksgiving, Remy.”

  He cleared his throat. “Merci.”

  She took the pie plate from her father and peeked under the cover, her thin eyebrows rose. “Did you make this?”

  “Surprised I can cook, cher?”

  “Nothing should surprise me with you. Thanks. It looks good.” She swept back into the kitchen, the scent of her perfume — rose and spice — lingering in her wake.

  Logan chuckled softly, snapping Remy out of his trance. Clapping a hand on his shoulder, the older man steered him to the living room. “Let me introduce you to the group.”

  Four men holding glasses of iced tea stood around a cold fireplace. The single familiar face, JC, gifted Remy with a hostile glare. Each man, except for JC, shook Remy’s hand.

  “Nice to put a face with the man who’s giving my boy fits,” said the man who must be Mr. Manning Sr., amusement dancing in his eyes.

  With a snort, JC propped his shoulder against the mantle and stared out the window.

  If the cowboy despised Remy now, what would he do if he found out Remy kissed Cody?

  “Just doing my job, sir,” Remy said.

  “Don’t apologize for it. I’m biased, but I know that my son is innocent.”

  If only Remy had the luxury to believe. More feminine laughter floated from the kitchen.

  “Doesn’t sound like much cooking is going on in there,” another guest said.

  Logan chuckled. “You know our women. They can multitask while they critique our exploits of the past year.”

  JC pushed away from the mantle. “I’ll see how much longer it’s gonna be.” He pinned Remy with a parting glare and strode out of the room.

  “Don’t worry ’bout him too much, Detective. He’ll get over it,” the father said.

  “I’m not worried. Nature of the job.”

  That comment opened up a new line of discussion between the men. When they rolled into rising feed costs, Logan nudged Remy’s arm and pointed at the door. He trailed the older man out of the living room. As they passed the kitchen, Remy glimpsed Cody over the saloon style doors.

  Outside, Logan ambled to the far end of the porch and settled in one of the wooden deck chairs, gesturing for Remy to take the other one. The voices from inside and the occasional call of livestock were the only sounds between them. Remy absorbed the peace and the rugged beauty of the ranch. He felt his muscles unwind and his pulse slow. The Red Moon ranch could be a safe haven, if he let it.

  “I didn’t think you’d come.” Logan stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles.

  “Almost didn’t.”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  Remy conjured up the feel and taste of Cody’s lips. A chance to kiss her again had prompted his acceptance. He looked at Logan. “I needed the break.”

  Nodding, Logan turned his attention to the yard. “My girl is a powerful motivator.” His tone conveyed he was keen to what had occurred between Cody and Remy.

  Red signals went up.

  “Did JC know I was coming?”

  “He was warned, and told he better behave. Cody has an uncanny way of controlling that boy where his parents couldn’t.” Logan’s fingers drummed the armrest. “He saved her life.” His gaze slid to Remy. “The night of the alcohol poisoning.”

  “She told you?”

  “There’s not much she doesn’t tell me. The only time she didn’t was after her momma died, and that led to the drinking.” Logan sighed. “One day she’ll stop confiding altogether, and I’ll have some lucky chump to thank for that.”

  Would Remy be that chump? He couldn’t, he shouldn’t. Not with the chains binding him. He wouldn’t put another woman at risk. So what was he doing getting involved with Cody?

  “I know how JC feels, Remy. And I know that boy as well as I know my daughter. He didn’t kill that girl.”

  “Mr. Lewis … ”

  “Logan.”

  “Logan, I’m sure you’re aware that I can’t discuss an ongoing case with you.”

  “I know how it works, just wanted to give my two cents worth.”

  It was more than two cents. The feeling Remy gathered from Logan’s tone meant more trouble if he continued to pursue JC as a suspect. But if the knife and the expertise of the killings was any indication, then JC wasn’t their guy. Damn it, when did he start believing the Lewises?

  “How far do you plan to take this?”

  Jolted out of his self-admonishment, Remy frowned at Logan. “I have to explore all avenues.”

  “Not the case, son.” A knowing smile crossed Logan’s lips. “My daughter.”

  Sly old man. Whether Cody told him or not, Logan was keen to her — their — attraction. Remy wanted to sink through the porch.

  “It’s too soon to tell.”

  Logan nodded. His fingers stilled, and his hand relaxed against the edge of the armrest. A ragged white scar on the back of his hand stood out against his sun-darkened skin. The scar ran up his wrist and disappeared under the cuff of his shirt. Cody said her father had a military background. Had he seen combat?

  “Does she know you’re out here quizzing me?”

  After checking his watch, Logan stood. “Don’t underestimate Cody.” He started for the door, paused and turned. “I trust you, LeBeau. For some oddball reason, I do. Don’t play the fool and make me regret it.”

  And there it was. Remy fought off a smile. He could handle a steely-eyed, overprotective father who thought he was a no-good silver-tongued Cajun.

  “Food is probably ready,” Logan said.

  Together they returned to the living room. A moment later the sliding doors separating the living room from the dining room glided back. Cody stepped through and flashed a brilliant smile at the men, her green eyes twinkling.

  “All right, boys.” She moved aside to reveal the spread. “Chow time.”

  • • •

  She was getting kicked out of her own kitchen. Cody opened her mouth to protest.

  “Don’t even,” JC’s mom said as she spun Cody around and propelled her away from the sink. “We’ll handle the clean up, you go take a load off.”

  “Wouldn’t it go faster with the three of us?”

  “Stop arguing.” She pushed Cody through the saloon-style doors and thrust a steaming mug of coffee into her hands. “We’ve got this. Now get.” She barred the way and glared at Cody.

  Heaving a frustrated sigh, Cody walked away, shooting a glance over her shoulder. She couldn’t fault the women for taking over. She’d cooked the entire meal on her own, much to their protests. The work had kept her mind off Remy’s arrival and the kisses he’d seared into her memory. H
ard as she tried to downplay his presence, Dad picked up on the vibes. Curse him and his intuition.

  Cody scanned the living room. The men had left to participate in their after-dinner ritual of calf roping to burn off the meal. By his absence, it looked as if they’d dragged Remy along. She grinned. That would be a sight to behold. LeBeau on the back of a horse.

  But the lure of the late afternoon sun and some peace drew Cody outside.

  She wandered to the southwest corner of the wrap-around porch and perched on the rail, pressing her back into the support beam. Sipping her coffee, she gazed at the setting sun.

  Despite the tension between JC and Remy, dinner had gone off without a hitch. Everyone seemed to like Remy. That was a relief on her part if things between them moved past a few kisses. And if the women’s teasing were any indication, Remy might be the next best thing since the flank-strap.

  But did she want another relationship? The wounds her ex-boyfriend inflicted were still raw. She stared at the inky liquid in her mug. There was no taking back that kiss.

  The scuff of boots on the porch steps brought her head up. Remy mounted the last step and strolled toward her. Her heart swelled and stole her breath. Wearing a black button-up shirt and dark blue jeans with his hair slightly tousled, he looked irresistible.

  The Cajun had snared her in a web, and she didn’t want to escape.

  She slid off the rail and took a step forward. “Thought the guys would have you roping with them.”

  Shrugging a shoulder, he halted inches from her. “Tried and failed.”

  She smiled. “Can’t believe Dad gave up so easily.”

  Remy tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her head back. “I’ve been waiting to get you alone, ’tite belle.”

  Her blood thickened and slowed through her veins. He had her wrapped tightly in his spell. One little word spoken in his native Cajun and she was a goner. “Waiting for what?” she whispered.

  He bent closer. The cool scent of his aftershave made her shudder. “For this.” His lips brushed hers.

  Cody’s lips parted and a soft moan escaped. Remy chuckled. The low rumble generated a hum that vibrated through her chest, settling in the pit of her stomach. He brushed his lips against hers several times before giving her a firmer kiss. She closed her eyes and let him lead this dance. Light-headed, she curled a hand around his neck and slid her fingers into his hair, then melted into a puddle.

  Kisses with Austin had been born of drunken desire and rebellion. Never producing the kick that turned her into a pile of mush. Remy kissed her with such obsession — as if she were water ready to evaporate.

  When he pulled away, her legs wobbled, and she braced a hand against his chest. The man’s kisses should be listed as the number one health risk for a cowgirl.

  She eased back a step and looked at him. A coy grin graced his lips.

  “If you’re not careful, we’ll get caught.”

  His grin widened. “I don’t think the ladies will mind. And the men are too wrapped up in their competition.”

  “You’re seriously too cocky.”

  “You don’t get where I am without it.”

  Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she drifted past him and sat on the armrest of one of the deck chairs. Find a safe topic. She needed time to recover. “This your first Texas Thanksgiving?”

  “Oui.” Leaning on the rail, he stared at her. His eyes had darkened almost to black.

  Cody swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She fingered the hem of her blouse. How long could she avoid his gaze?

  “Cody, look at me.”

  She obliged his request, noticing the concern etched on his face.

  “You’re still planning to go to the NFR.” It wasn’t a question, he was flat out stating it. And the tone of his voice triggered her defenses.

  “Why would I change my mind?”

  “You could be in danger.”

  Frowning, she set the mug on the seat and stood. “All the more reason to leave. If you think there’s a threat to me, wouldn’t I be safer in Las Vegas?”

  Grumbling under his breath, Remy pushed off the rail and closed the gap between them. “I don’t want something to happen to you.”

  “It won’t.”

  “How do you know? This isn’t going to go away with the snap of a finger. The threat is real, and this killer means business.”

  “And I think you’re worrying about me too much.”

  A dark look passed over his face. “Take this seriously, Cody.”

  “I am.” She hooked her thumbs in her Wrangler’s back pockets. “What is it with you cops and your need to see me as nothing more than some damsel in distress?”

  “At this point, you are.”

  Heat surged through her veins. “Seriously? You’re goin’ there?”

  With a sigh, he took a few steps away and faced her. “I hoped this wouldn’t be a problem with us.”

  “Why would it?”

  “One.” He held up a finger. “You have no training in how to defend yourself. Two.” Another finger joined the first. “You have no record of knowing how to handle a weapon. Three. A determined person, like the Rodeo Sweetheart killer, will stop at nothing to fulfill his need to kill. As a woman, you don’t stand a chance.”

  Cody jerked her hands out of her pockets and crossed her arms. “Could you be a little more sexist?”

  Remy stalked toward her. “I call it like I see it.”

  She pressed her fingers to her chest and met his heated gaze head on. “Where’s your faith, Remy?”

  “There’s no room for faith in this job. If you let yourself believe one second in the goodness of someone, it’ll bite you in the ass.” The anger in his voice couldn’t mask the pain breaking free from somewhere inside. “It’s voodoo magic.”

  She grabbed his arm and forced him to look at her. “No, it’s not.”

  “You’re going to make issue of this?”

  Releasing her hold, Cody straightened her spine. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

  • • •

  The stubborn tilt of her chin sent an overcharged flare through Remy. “Cody, sa c’est de la couyonade.”

  Her face crumpled into a scowl. “What?”

  “This is stupid.”

  Fire flickered in her green eyes. “You think I’m stupid?”

  “Mais non, this fight between us is.”

  “This isn’t a fight, Remy. It’s you denying the truth and getting angry because I don’t agree with your decision.”

  Would someone slap him back to reality? A moment ago, he was enjoying the feel of her lips against his and her weak-kneed reaction. He was through discussing this never-ending argument.

  The crunch of gravel on rubber saved him. A silver Escalade pulled up and parked behind his Corvette.

  “Who is that?” Cody asked and moved to the steps.

  Remy caught up her elbow and dragged her back. “Stay here.” He held up a finger when she opened her mouth. “I mean it.”

  The driver’s side door opened as he left the porch, and Santorini exited the SUV. Remy met the PI at the front of his ’Vette.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Retrieving you. Why don’t you have your cell on you at a time like this, Detective?”

  “It’s broken. I didn’t get it replaced yet.”

  Santorini worked his jaw back and forth. “How convenient for you.”

  “How’d you find me anyway?”

  “Detective Anderson made a wild guess, and it appears he was right. We have another one, LeBeau.”

  Remy swore. “I’ll make my excuses.” He turned to walk up the path.

  “You’ve just made it personal, LeBeau.”

 
He swung around. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Santorini’s gaze darted behind Remy to the porch and back. “You’ll see.”

  • • •

  An icy hand reached inside Remy’s chest and ripped his heart out through his throat. This was what the Rodeo Sweethearts killer meant by there was much to do. Dried blood streaked the white cement wall under the message. Tick tock, who’s next, LeBeau?

  Mon Dieu, had he seen Cody when she stopped by Remy’s condo yesterday? Would she be next? Remy’s blood thickened and slowed in his veins. Had he put her at risk because he’d been too selfish in wanting to know where she was all the time?

  No, this wasn’t like it had been with Marie. He could walk away from Cody and she’d still be protected. It hadn’t gone too far for them. Shared kisses didn’t equate to marriage vows of ’til death do us part.

  He turned from the message and stared at the victim. A red rose petal stuck out from under her body. She’d been easily identified as Holly Cantrell, a former DPD dispatcher. There was no obvious rodeo connection, but it explained how the killer got the phone numbers. How convenient for Holly to be a redhead.

  “She’s not a natural,” C-Bar said as he joined Remy.

  He frowned at his partner. “She dyed her hair?”

  Anderson nodded. “Rick said she’s got blond roots.”

  “He only used her for information and killed her to protect himself. This goes against everything about his profile.”

  “So does the message.”

  “LeBeau! Here. Now.”

  A hush fell over the tech crew at Moreno’s roar.

  Everyone’s eyes seemed to burn holes into Remy’s body. They wanted to know what that message meant as much as Moreno did. But they couldn’t. Not with so much at stake. Rubbing the back of his neck, Remy sighed.

  “Tell him the truth, LeBeau. I can’t solve this on my own,” Anderson said.

  “If it were only that easy.” Remy headed for the command center, knowing he wouldn’t — he couldn’t — reveal that he lied to the lieutenant about why the killer contacted him again.

  Hands on his hips, pushing back the blazer to reveal the butt of his Glock, Santorini watched Remy approach, then headed toward one of his team members.