by Nora Roberts
The wound hasn't healed yet, he thought, watching her steadily. He wondered, but didn't ask, how long ago her father had died.
''Anyway, the mayor asked me to fill in until things settled down again, and since I had to stay around to straighten a few things out anyway, I agreed. Nobody wanted the job except Merle, and he's..." She gave a quick, warm laugh. ''Well, he's not ready. I know the law, I know the town. In a few months they'll hold an election. My name won't be on the ballot." She shot him a look. "Did I satisfy your curiosity?"
Under the harsh overhead lights, her skin was flawless, her eyes sharply green. Phil found himself reaching for her hair again. "No," he murmured. Though his eyes never left hers, Tory felt as though he looked at all of her—slowly and with great care. Quite unexpectedly her mouth went dry. She rose.
"It should have," she said lightly as she began to pack up the dirty dishes. "Next time we have dinner, I'll expect your life story." When she felt his hand on her arm, she stopped. Tory glanced down at the fingers curled around her arm. then slowly lifted her eyes to his. "Kincaid," she said softly, "you're in enough trouble."
"I'm already in jail," he pointed out as he turned her to face him.
"The term of your stay can easily be lengthened."
Knowing he should resist and that he couldn't, Phil drew her into his arms. "How much time can I get for making love to the sheriff?"
"What you're going to get is a broken rib if you don't let me go." Miscalculation, her mind stated bluntly.
This man is never harmless. On the tail of that came the thought of how wonderful it felt to be held against him. His mouth was very close and very tempting. And it simply wasn't possible to forget their positions.
"Tory," he murmured. "I like the way that sounds." Running his fingers up her spine, he caught them in her hair. With her pressed tight against him, he could feel her faint quiver of response. "I think I'm going to have to have you."
A struggle wasn't going to work, she decided, any more than threats. As her own blood began to heat, Tory knew she had to act quickly. Tilting her head back slightly, she lifted a disdainful brow. ' 'Hasn't a woman ever turned you down before, Kincaid?"
She saw his eyes flash in anger, felt the fingers in her hair tighten. Tory forced herself to remain still and relaxed. Excitement shivered through her, and resolutely she ignored it. His thighs were pressed hard against hers; the arms wrapped around her waist were tense with muscle. The firm male feel of him appealed to her, while the temper in his eyes warned her not to miscalculate again. They remained close for one long throbbing moment.
Phil's fingers relaxed before he stepped back to measure her. "There'll be another time," he said quietly.
"Another place."
With apparent calm, Tory began gathering the dishes again. Her heart was thudding at the base of her throat. "You'll get the same answer."
"The hell I will."
Annoyed, she turned to see him watching her. With his hands in his pockets he rocked back gently on his heels. His eyes belied the casual stance. "Stick with your bubble-headed blondes," she advised coolly.
"They photograph so well, clinging to your arm."
She was angry, he realized suddenly, and much more moved by him than she had pretended. Seeing his advantage, Phil approached her again. "You ever take off that badge, Sheriff?"
Tory kept her eyes level. "Occasionally."
Phil lowered his gaze, letting it linger on the small star. "When?"
Sensing that she was being outmaneuvered, Tory answered cautiously. "That's irrelevant."
When he lifted his eyes back to hers, he was smiling. "It won't be." He touched a finger to her full bottom lip. "I'm going to spend a lot of time tasting that beautiful mouth of yours."
Disturbed, Tory stepped back. "I'm afraid you won't have the opportunity or the time."
"I'm going to find the opportunity and the time to make love with you several times—" He sent her a mocking grin. "—Sheriff."
As he had anticipated, her eyes lit with fury. "You conceited fool," she said in a low voice. "You really think you're irresistible."
"Sure I do." He continued to grin maddeningly. "Don't you?"
"I think you're a spoiled, egotistical ass."
His temper rose, but Phil controlled it. If he lost it, he'd lose his advantage. He stepped closer, keeping a bland smile on his face. "Do you? Is that a legal opinion or a personal one?"
Tory tossed back her head, fuming. ' 'My personal opinion is—"
He cut her off with a hard, bruising kiss.
Taken completely by surprise, Tory didn't struggle. By the time she had gathered her wits, she was too involved to attempt it. His mouth seduced hers expertly, parting her lips so that he could explore deeply and at his leisure. She responded out of pure pleasure. His mouth was hard, then soft—gentle, then demanding.
He took her on a brisk roller coaster of sensation. Before she could recover from the first breathtaking plunge, they were climbing again. She held on to him, waiting for the next burst of speed.
He took his tongue lightly over hers, then withdrew it, tempting her to follow. Recklessly, she did, learning the secrets and dark tastes of his mouth. For a moment he allowed her to take the lead; then, cupping the back of her head in his hand, he crushed her lips with one last driving force. He wanted her weak and limp and totally conquered.
When he released her, Tory stood perfectly still, trying to remember what had happened. The confusion in her eyes gave him enormous pleasure. "I plead guilty, Your Honor," he drawled as he dropped back onto the bunk. "And it was worth it."
Hot, raging fury replaced every other emotion. Storming over to him, she grabbed him by the shirt front.
Phil didn't resist, but grinned.
"Police brutality," he reminded her. She cursed him fluently, and with such effortless style, he was unable to conceal his admiration. "Did you learn that at Harvard?" he asked when she paused for breath.
Tory released him with a jerk and whirled to scoop up the hamper. The cell door shut behind her with a furious clang. Without pausing, she stormed out of the office.
Still grinning, Phil lay back on the bunk and pulled out a cigarette. She'd won round one, he told himself.
But he'd taken round two. Blowing out a lazy stream of smoke, he began to speculate on the rematch.
Chapter 3
When the alarm shrilled, Tory knocked it off the small table impatiently. It clattered to the floor and continued to shrill. She buried her head under the pillow. She wasn't at her best in the morning. The noisy alarm vibrated against the floor until she reached down in disgust and slammed it off. After a good night's sleep she was inclined to be cranky. After a poor one she was dangerous.
Most of the past night had been spent tossing and turning. The scene with Phil had infuriated her, not only because he had won, but because she had fully enjoyed that one moment of mindless pleasure, Rolling onto her back, Tory kept the pillow over her face to block out the sunlight. The worst part was, she mused, he was going to get away with it. She couldn't in all conscience use the law to punish him for something that had been strictly personal. It had been her own fault for lowering her guard and inviting the consequences.
And she had enjoyed talking with him, sparring with someone quick with words. She missed matching wits with a man.
But that was no excuse, she reminded herself. He'd made her forget her duty...and he'd enjoyed it.
Disgusted, Tory tossed the pillow aside, then winced at the brilliant sunlight. She'd learned how to evade an advance as a teenager. What had caused her to slip up this time? She didn't want to dwell on it. Grumpily she dragged herself from the cot and prepared to dress.
Every muscle in his body ached. Phil stretched out his legs to their full length and gave a low groan. He was willing to swear Tory had put the lumps in the mattress for his benefit. Cautiously opening one eye, he stared at the man in the next cell. The man slept on, as he had from the moment Tory had dumped him on the bun
k the night before. He snored outrageously. When she had dragged him in, Phil had been amused.
The man was twice her weight and had been blissfully drunk. He'd called her "good old Tory." and she had cursed him halfheartedly as she had maneuvered him into the cell. Thirty minutes after hearing the steady snoring, Phil had lost his sense of humor.
She hadn't spoken a word to him. With a detached interest Phil had watched her struggle with the drunk. It had pleased him to observe that she was still fuming. She'd been in and out of the office several times before midnight, then had locked up in the same frigid silence. He'd enjoyed that, but then had made a fatal error: When she had gone into the back room to bed, he had tortured him-self by watching her shadow play on the wall as she had undressed. That, combined with an impossible mattress and a snoring drunk-and-disorderly, had led to an uneasy night. He hadn't awakened in the best of moods.
Sitting up with a wince, he glared at the unconscious man in the next cell. His wide, flushed face was cherubic, ringed with a curling blond circle of hair. Ruefully, Phil rubbed a hand over his own chin and felt the rough stubble. A fastidious man, he was annoyed at not having a razor, a hot shower or a fresh set of clothes. Rising, he determined to gain access to all three immediately.
"Tory!" His voice was curt, one of a man accustomed to being listened to. He received no response. "Damn it, Tory, get out here!" He rattled the bars, wishing belligerently that he'd kept the tin cup. He could have made enough noise with it to wake even the stuporous man in the next cell. ' 'Tory, get out of that bed and come here.' He swore, promising himself he'd never allow anyone to lock him in anything again. "When I get out..." he began.
Tory came shuffling in, carrying a pot of water. "Button up, Kincaid."
"You listen to me," he retorted. "I want a shower and a razor and my clothes. And if—"
"If you don't shut up until I've had my coffee, you're going to take your shower where you stand." She lifted the pot of water meaningfully. "You can get cleaned up as soon as Merle gets in." She went to the coffeepot and began to clatter.
"You're an arrogant wretch when you've got a man caged," he said darkly.
"I'm an arrogant wretch anyway. Do yourself a favor, Kincaid, don't start a fight until I've had two cups. I'm not a nice person in the morning."
"I'm warning you." His voice was as low and dangerous as his mood. "You're going to regret locking me in here."
Turning, she looked at him for the first time that morning. His clothes and hair were disheveled. The clean lines of his aristocratic face were shadowed by the night's growth of beard. Fury was in his stance and in the cool water-blue of his eyes. He looked outrageously attractive.
"I think I'm going to regret letting you out," she muttered before she turned back to the coffee. "Do you want some of this, or are you just going to throw it at me?'
The idea was tempting, but so was the scent of the coffee. "Black," he reminded her shortly.
Tory drained half a cup, ignoring her scalded tongue before she went to Phil. "What do you want for breakfast?" she asked as she passed the cup through the bars.
He scowled at her. ' 'A shower, and a sledgehammer for your friend over there."
Tory cast an eye in the next cell. "Silas'll wake up in an hour, fresh as a daisy." She swallowed more coffee.
"Keep you up?"
"Him and the feather bed you provided."
She shrugged. "Crime doesn't pay."
"I'm going to strangle you when I get out of here," he promised over the rim of his cup. "Slowly and with great pleasure."
"That isn't the way to get your shower." She turned as the door opened and Tod came in. He stood hesitantly at the door, jamming his hands in his pockets. "Good morning." She smiled and beckoned him in.
"You're early."
"You didn't say what time." He came warily, shifting his eyes from Phil to Silas and back to Phil again.
"You got prisoners."
"Yes, I do." Catching her tongue between her teeth, she jerked a thumb at Phil. "This one's a nasty character."
"What's he in for?"
"Insufferable arrogance."
"He didn't kill anybody, did he?"
"Not yet," Phil muttered, then added, unable to resist the eager gleam in the boy's eyes, "I was framed."
"They all say that, don't they, Sheriff?"
"Absolutely." She lifted a hand to ruffle the boy's hair. Startled, he jerked and stared at her. Ignoring his reaction, she left her hand on his shoulder. "Well, I'll put you to work, then. There's a broom in the back room. You can start sweeping up. Have you had breakfast?''
"No, but—"
"I'll bring you something when I take care of this guy. Think you can keep an eye on things for me for a few minutes?'
His mouth fell open in astonishment. "Yes, ma'am!"
"Okay, you're in charge." She headed for the door, grabbing her hat on the way. ' 'If Silas wakes up, you can let him out. The other guy stays where he is. Got it?"
"Sure thing, Sheriff." He sent Phil a cool look. "He won't pull nothing on me."
Stiffiing a laugh, Tory walked outside.
Resigned to the wait, Phil leaned against the bars and drank his coffee while the boy went to work with the broom. He worked industriously, casting furtive glances over his shoulder at Phil from time to time. He's a good-looking boy, Phil mused. He brooded over his reaction to Tory's friendly gesture, wondering how he would react to a man.
"Live in town?" Phil ventured.
Tod paused, eyeing him warily. "Outside."
"On a ranch?"
He began to sweep again, but more slowly. "Yeah." "Got any horses?"
The boy shrugged. "Couple." He was working his way cautiously over to the cell. "You're not from around here," he said.
"No, I'm from California."
"No, kidding?" Impressed, Tod sized him up again. "You don't look like such a bad guy," he decided.
"Thanks." Phil grinned into his cup.
"How come you're in jail, then?"
Phil pondered over the answer and settled for the unvarnished truth. "I lost my temper."
Tod gave a snort of laughter and continued sweeping. "You can't go to jail for that. My pa loses his all the time."
"Sometimes you can." He studied the boy's profile. "Especially if you hurt someone."
The boy passed the broom over the floor without much regard for dust. "Did you?"
"Just myself," Phil admitted ruefully. "I got the sheriff mad at me."
"Zac Kramer said he don't hold with no woman sheriff."
Phil laughed at that, recalling how easily a woman sheriff had gotten him locked in a cell. "Zac Kramer doesn't sound very smart to me."
Tod sent Phil a swift, appealing grin. "I heard she went to their place yesterday. The twins have to wash all Old Man Hollister's windows, inside and out. For free."
Tory breezed back in with two covered plates. "Breakfast," she announced. "He give you any trouble?" she asked Tod as she set a plate on her desk.
"No, ma'am." The scent of food made his mouth water, but he bent back to his task.
"Okay, sit down and eat."
He shot her a doubtful look. "Me?"
"Yes, you." Carrying the other plate, she walked over to get the keys. "When you and Mr. Kincaid have finished, run the dishes back to the hotel." Without waiting for a response, she unlocked Phil's cell. But Phil watched the expression on Tod's face as he started at his breakfast.
"Sheriff," Phil murmured, taking her hand, rather than the plate she held out to him, "you're a very classy lady." Lifting her hand, he kissed her lingers lightly.
Unable to resist, she allowed her hand to rest in his a moment. "Phil," she said on a sigh, "don't be disarming; you'll complicate things."
His brow lifted in surprise as he studied her. "You know," he said slowly, "I think it's already too late."
Tory shook her head, denying it. "Eat your breakfast," she ordered briskly. "Merle will be coming by with your clothes s
oon."
When she turned to leave, he held her hand another moment. "Tory," he said quietly, "you and I aren't finished yet."
Carefully she took her hand from his. "You and I never started," she corrected, then closed the door of the cell with a resolute clang. As she headed back to the coffeepot she glanced at Tod. The boy was making his way through bacon and eggs without any trouble.
"Aren't you eating?" Phil asked her as he settled down to his own breakfast.
"I'll never understand how anyone can eat at this hour," Tory muttered, fortifying herself on coffee. "Tod, the sheriff's car could use a wash. Can you handle it?"
"Sure thing, Sheriff." He was half out of the chair before Tory put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Eat first," she told him. with a chuckle. "If you finish up the sweeping and the car, that should do it for today." She sat on the corner of the desk, enjoying his appetite. "Your parents know where you are?" she asked casually.
"I finished my chores before I left," he mumbled with a full mouth.
"Hmmm." She said nothing more, sipping instead at her coffee. When the door opened, she glanced over, expecting to see Merle. Instead she was struck dumb.
"Lou!" Phil was up and holding on to the bars. "It's about time."
"Well, Phil, you look very natural."
Lou Sherman, Tory thought, sincerely awed. One of the top attorneys in the country. She'd followed his cases, studied his style, used his precedents. He looked just as commanding in person as in any newspaper or magazine picture she'd ever seen of him. He was a huge man, six foot four, with a stocky frame and a wild thatch of white hair. His voice had resonated in courtrooms for more than forty years. He was tenacious, flamboyant and feared. For the moment Tory could only stare at the figure striding into her office in a magnificent pearl-gray suit and baby-pink shirt.
Phil called him an uncomplimentary name, which made him laugh loudly. "You'd better have some respect if you want me to get you out of there, son." His eyes slid to Phil's half-eaten breakfast. "Finish eating," he advised, "while I talk to the sheriff." Turning, he gazed solemnly from Tory to Tod. "One of you the sheriff?"
Tory hadn't found her voice yet. Tod jerked his head at her. "She is," he stated with his mouth still full.
