by Grace, Carol
She glanced up at him. They were right. He did look like he’d lost the election. There were deep lines carved in his forehead. Some unnamed emotion tugged at her heartstrings. It couldn’t be sympathy. How could she feel sorry for somebody who’d just won the only thing he cared about, the election for sheriff of Harmony, Nevada?
If it wasn’t sympathy then why did she want to throw her arms around him, smooth those worry lines away, and kiss him until his troubles disappeared, until he kissed her back, until they were caught in a firestorm of passion? What was wrong with her, anyway, letting her imagination run away with her?
More importantly, what was wrong with Brady?
“Hungry?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Any champagne left?” he asked.
She picked up a clean glass, filled it from a half-empty bottle and handed it to him. Just the brush of his hand against hers flooded her with desire. Her knees were so weak she had to sit down. Just for a moment. Just until she cleared her head and pulled herself together. Just until her hands stopped shaking.
“I thought you’d left,” he said, sliding into the straight-back pine chair opposite her.
“I’m going,” she said, dragging her eyes away from his “Just as soon as I...”
“Don’t go. Not yet.” His eyes darkened, smoldered with unfinished business, with unfulfilled desire. Her heart leaped into her throat. She couldn’t speak, let alone move.
“I have to. I...” she stammered, bracing her hands against the edge of the table.
“Is it Travis?”
“No, he’s at my mother’s, but...”
“But you’re tired, tired of working for me. It’s been a long day. And a long campaign. You’re tired of putting your own goals on hold while you help me get what I want. On your own time, too. I understand that. What I don’t understand is why...” He took a large drink of champagne. “I don’t understand why nobody’s married you so far.”
“Thank you,” she said primly, as if he’d complimented her on her ability to understand the complicated county rules and regulations.
“I mean it.” He gazed at her under hooded dark eyes. “You’re everything a man could want.”
“Want? There’s a difference in wanting to get married and just wanting,” she explained.
“Yeah,” he said, sliding down in his seat and leaning his head against the back. “I know.”
She started to get up. He was either drunk or exhausted. In any case, there was nothing more to be said.
“Sit down,” he said, reaching out to grab her arm.
Startled, she sat down.
“About what happened up there in the bathroom,” he began.
“Forget it. I have,” she said.
“Have you?” His gaze held her mesmerized. Her skin was covered with goose bumps while inside, a flame burned, so hot she thought it might consume her. “I don’t think you have.”
She couldn’t lie. She could only reassure him. “It won’t happen again,” she promised.
“Why not?” he demanded, pulling himself up to lean his elbows on the table. There was a gleam in his eyes, a seductive smile on his lips. “We’re mature adults. We’re both unattached. We like each other. At least I think you like me. I like kissing you, feeling your body next to mine...”
“Brady, stop,” she said, feeling her face flood with heat. “We can’t go on like this. It’s over.”
“Over? What’s over? Nothing’s happened...yet.”
“And it’s not going to.”
If nothing had happened, and if it wasn’t going to, then why did she feel this way? This dizzy feeling that she was sliding faster and faster into a deep, dark tunnel, spinning out of control. And she didn’t want to stop until she landed in his arms and he took her away with him. No. She could not, would not let this happen. “Come on, Brady, this isn’t what we want, either of us.”
“Isn’t it?” His eyes glittered dangerously.
She tried to deny it, but she couldn’t catch her breath. The air had whooshed out of her lungs and when it finally came back, all she could do was to plead with him. “Help me out, Brady.”
“Help you out? I am helping you out. I’m doing you a favor by showing you what you don’t want in a husband.” He reached across the table for her hand and stroked her palm with his thumb. She should have pulled her hand away, but the touch of his callused thumb drawing concentric circles on her sensitive skin was blatantly sexual, causing a instant reaction, a flood of sexual awareness that shook her to the core.
“I don’t need any favors,” she insisted, though her voice wasn’t as steady as she’d hoped. She didn’t want him to know the effect he had on her. “I know what I don’t want in a husband, and I know what I want.”
“And I’m not it.” For one brief second there was something in his eyes she’d never seen before. It wasn’t regret. It wasn’t grief, but it wasn’t relief, either. He let her hand go.
“That’s right.” She’d made a vow, after Travis’s father walked out on her, that she’d never be taken in by a handsome face, never be swept off her feet by a wave of purely sexual attraction. That when and if she ever committed herself again, she’d do it with a clear head and both feet on the ground. Right now she had neither. She intended to marry only once in her life, and as soon as possible, so that Travis could grow up with a father. That’s all that mattered.
After this stern talking-to, she took a deep breath, stood up and held on to the back of the chair, just for a moment. Just until the room stopped spinning around. What this man did to her ought to be illegal. And if it was? Who would she tell? He was the law in this town.
Brady saw her close her eyes and rock back and forth on her heels. He got out of his chair, grabbed her by the shoulders and held her tight. He buried his face in her silky blond hair. She smelled like sugar and spice. And everything nice. “How much champagne have you had?” he asked, drawing her close.
He was amazed once again at how well she fit in his arms. And how right she felt. Even though she was wrong, so wrong for him. And he was even more wrong for her. He would never again ask a woman to share his life. Even though he was no longer a big-city cop, he still had obligations to the town and to the county. And he still faced dangers. And worked long hours. He’d made a new life for himself here in Harmony, a life he loved, and he wouldn’t trade this life for anything or anyone. A lawman had to put his job first, ahead of his family. If he wanted to do a good job, he couldn’t have a family.
That didn’t stop him from wanting Suzy. Wanting her so badly it hurt like a wound from a semiautomatic. He’d gotten over that, he’d get over this. Next week. He’d start getting over her next week. But tonight... tonight he was glad there was no deputy to burst in on them.
“Champagne? I don’t know. Just a few sips, why?” she asked. “I’m fine.”
“Yes, you are fine. You’re more than fine. But you’re in no condition to drive.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” He dropped his arms. “Here, walk across the floor on the line between the tiles.”
“Brady, I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not a suspect. I’m a responsible citizen.”
“And I’m the sheriff. It’s my job to prevent accidents before they happen.”
She glared at him. “You think I’m an accident waiting to happen?”
“You know you’re cute when you glare like that.”
“You know you’re annoying when you’re holier than thou like that.”
“It’s my job to be holier than thou.”
“Maybe you take your job too seriously.”
“Are you going to walk that line or am I going to take you into custody?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” He’d do almost anything to keep her there. He had no idea if she’d had too much to drink or if she was just very, very tired. In any case, she wasn’t in any condition to drive herself home, and if anything happened to h
er... She was part of his work, part of his life, and he’d be damned if he knew what he was going to do now that she was walking out of his work and his life.
“All right. I’ll walk the stupid line,” she said, tossing her head defiantly.
She tried; he’d have to give her credit for trying. But she couldn’t do it. He stood at the wall and watched her take off her shoes and come toward him, staring at her unsteady, stockinged feet, biting her lip in concentration. He held out his arms and she walked into them, wool dress, white apron and all.
“Okay, you win,” she said, her face against his shirt, her voice muffled. “I’ll let you drive me home.”
“No way,” he said, sliding his hands down to rest lightly on her hips. He didn’t want to scare her away. But he wasn’t going to let her leave, either. “Like you, I’m in no condition to drive. What’s the point? Travis is taken care of. Nobody has to go to work tomorrow. It’s a big house. I have a guest room, so you don’t have to sleep on a lumpy couch.”
“Is that why you left my house that night? Because the couch was lumpy?” she asked, looking up at him with those soft, luminous eyes.
“No. I was afraid you’d see me before I’d shaved and you’d be disillusioned.”
“After all this time you think I have any illusions left about you?” she asked, running a finger along the rough outline of his jaw.
“Don’t do that, Suzy,” he warned in a tight voice. “I’m having a hard enough time keeping my hands off you.”
She stepped back and surveyed him under lowered lashes. The look in her eyes confused him. Did she or didn’t she want him to keep his hands off her? He clenched his teeth trying to keep his libido in check. But damned if she wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his kitchen.
How had he worked with her this past year and not noticed? Now she was leaving. It was just as well. An affair with Suzy would have led to nowhere. She wanted to get married. He didn’t. And it would have made working conditions impossible.
A quick kiss by the coffee machine.
A brief touch as she passed his desk.
A hunger that started in the morning and grew as the day progressed. A desire that was not satisfied with a quick kiss or a caress. Was not satisfied until they’d closed the doors, turned off the lights, until he’d pulled her silk shirt off over her head, tossed it on her desk, ripped the buttons off his Oxford cloth shirt... Oh, Lord, just thinking about it made him hot and hard and determined to stop fantasizing along these treacherous lines. He just couldn’t do this anymore. If she hadn’t quit, he would have had to fire her.
He turned abruptly.
“I’ll show you the guest room,” he said.
She followed him down the hall. He didn’t turn around but he knew she was there. All evening long he’d known exactly where she was, who she was with and what she was doing. His antennae were up and running where she was concerned.
“Is that your room?” Suzy asked, catching a glimpse of a large white-washed bedroom with unfinished wooden beams, a huge solid-pine bed covered with navy plaid sheets and a thick comforter.
“Yeah. The guest room is next door.”
“But who lives upstairs? Who uses the tub with the champagne in it?”
“Nobody.” He shrugged. “I know, the house is too big for me, but I like it.”
She paused in the doorway. So he never used that big tub, never stretched out in it with a cigar in his mouth. She’d been fantasizing again. Hot water never lapped at his shoulders up there or trickled down his chest or anything else. She was an idiot. She took a deep breath and looked around the room. Antique firearms were mounted on the wall, and paintings of Western landscapes. There was a large brick fireplace and plaques and pictures hung above the plain pine dresser.
“Is that you?” she asked, spotting a family photo with a dark-eyed, scowling baby. She was truly curious, but she was also looking for an excuse to get a closer look at his room, to get a glimpse of the real Brady, the man behind the badge. Even though she’d worked for him this past year, she felt she was just getting to know him. She told herself there was no point in getting to know him any better, but she stepped inside the room anyway.
“Yes, it’s me,” he admitted reluctantly, standing in the doorway.
She glanced over her shoulder, noting the same expression on his face. “You haven’t changed.”
“Thanks. Your room is next door, this is...”
“Your room, I know and these are your parents?”
“Lucky guess.”
She ignored his sarcasm and his obvious desire to get her out of there.
“Who took these?” She pointed to a group of photographs of deer, poised at a water hole, and bobcats slinking across the high desert with the sun setting in the distance.
“Me.”
She couldn’t help but be surprised. He’d never mentioned any hobbies or pastimes except hunting and fishing. These pictures were really beautiful. By the look on his face, he didn’t want her to enthuse over them. He didn’t want her to do anything but get out of his private sanctum.
But a bronze plaque caught her attention and she had to ask, “What’s this?”
“An award I got for something or other.”
“Bravery above and beyond the call of duty,” she read. “What did you do?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Then why do you have it?”
“To remind myself of how lucky I am to be alive.” Suzy ran her finger over his name engraved in the smooth, shiny bronze surface, wondering what he’d done.
“I’m not surprised,” she said.
“That I keep a plaque on my wall?”
“No.”
“That I haven’t changed since I was a year old?”
“That you got an award for bravery. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known.”
Brady shook his head and walked into the room, giving up on getting her out of there anytime in the near future.
“Where did you get that idea? I’m not brave. That award is a scam. I was scared every time I went out on my beat in the Tenderloin, the highest crime area in the city. Scared to death. And my wife was even more scared. Scared I wouldn’t come home in one piece. One night I didn’t.”
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story. And it’s late. The point is, I’d never put anyone through that again.”
“But Brady...”
“Don’t tell me it’s different here. I know it. That’s why I’m here. But some things are the same. The irregular hours, being on call all the time, the possibility of danger. I can handle it, but I’d never ask anyone else to. That’s why—”
“That’s why you’re never getting married again and I am.”
“You got it,” he said brusquely. He wondered if he’d ever get used to the idea of her being married. Wondered how he’d feel seeing her walk down the street pushing Travis in his stroller with her husband at her side. What would her husband be like? He knew. He’d be some dull, sensible, solid citizen. The thought made him sick. Or was that the effect of too much champagne and too many hors d’oeuvres?
He stared at her, standing there at his dresser, her head bent over examining his trophies, her pale hair gleaming in the light from the floor lamp. His heart hammered against his ribs.
He forced himself to speak.
“I wish you the best of luck, Suzy, you deserve it. You’ll make somebody a great wife.”
She slanted a glance in his direction and gave him a brief smile. “That sounded like a farewell speech. Anyway, thanks. If only I weren’t worried about my son.”
“Don’t worry about Travis. About whether somebody will accept him, raise him like he was theirs. Because Travis is a great kid.” The vision of Travis yelling “Da-da” at him across the diner came back to haunt him. He never told her how his heart had contracted that night at the sound of that one word. He’d never have a son, but if he did...
“Really?”
She beamed at him and the warmth of that smile sent him reeling. He almost lost his control. The room was so warm he took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He wanted to stride across the room, sweep her off her feet and toss her onto that big bed he’d slept alone in for too long. Instead he crossed the room and threw the window open. He told himself it wasn’t just the smile, it was the late hour and the champagne. Whatever it was, he had to ball his hands into fists and repeat the words inside his head:
She wants to get married and you don’t.
She’s going to get married and you’re not.
She works for you. Worked for you.
She’s gone.
It’s over.
“You must be tired,” he suggested. If she didn’t leave this room soon—say within the next thirty seconds—he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. Despite the breeze coming in the window, the temperature was still rising, and he wasn’t made of iron. He was made of some extremely flammable substance.
She nodded and went to the door. Relieved, he followed her out and closed the door behind him. Firmly. And moved on.
“Here’s the guest room.”
“It’s charming.” It was charming. Suzy didn’t know who had decorated it, but it couldn’t have been Brady. The bed had an old wrought-iron frame, painted black. The walls were sage green with botanical prints hanging above the bed. Green and white plaid blankets were stacked at the foot of the bed. She sighed.
“You said you had no furniture.”
“I didn’t. Until my mother came for a visit last year. This was a storeroom. She couldn’t stand it. She got out her tape measure, poked around at antique shops and garage sales and this is how it turned out. I told her I didn’t need a guest room because I don’t have any guests, but she’s stubborn.”
She stifled a smile, but he saw it.
“Okay, the Wilsons are all stubborn. I don’t deny it.”
“You never mentioned having a mother,” she said. “Or a father.”
