Tempting The Sheriff. Kathy Altman

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Tempting The Sheriff - Kathy  Altman


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spent another fifteen minutes admiring the photos June Catlett had taken for the Pets Are People, Too calendar they were putting together to raise money for the citizens’ center. Even Priscilla Mae, a former Lilac Queen, apparently—all righty, then—had a place in the lineup.

      “How about your cat?” Hazel poked at his biceps. “Play your cards right and we’ll find a place for her, too.” She beamed at Ivy, who’d recovered from her coughing fit. “She just had kittens.”

      “How sweet.” Ivy studied Vaughn with new respect. “How many did she have?”

      “Three,” he said. “Two black, one gray. Want ’em?”

      Ivy grinned. Vaughn sighed.

      “Great idea, sis.” June patted her camera. “Not Franklin would make an adorable addition to the calendar. Let’s set up the shoot.”

      Audrey fingered a T-bone. “Not Franklin?”

      “We thought she was Franklin but she wasn’t,” Hazel explained.

      Katz curled his lip. “For God’s sake, man. Name your cat.”

      “She’s not my cat. And she can’t be in the calendar. She’s wearing a cast.”

      “What happened? You kick her?”

      Hazel glared at Katz. “He would never do a thing like that.”

      “Know him that well, do you?”

      “As a matter of fact, we do. When he was a child, he spent most of his summers right next door to us. So watch it, old man, or we’ll put you in a cast.”

      Vaughn raised both hands, and his voice. “Nobody’s putting anybody in a cast.”

      Katz grunted. “Wilmer Fish put your cat in a cast.”

      “She’s not my—” Vaughn stopped and inhaled.

      Ivy’s gaze gleamed with compassion. And mirth. “What’d Wilmer say?”

      “Her leg’s broken. He figures she got hit by a car. She’ll heal, but she has to stay off the leg for two weeks.”

      Ivy grimaced in sympathy. “You have her in a carrier?”

      Vaughn nodded. He’d had to get one big enough for her and the kittens. Damn thing had cost him seventy bucks.

      “We can still take a picture,” June said. “Casts can be sexy.”

      “She’s right,” Hazel said.

      Katz tugged at his sleeve and angled his wrist, showing Hazel a bandage on the meaty part of his palm.

      “Put that thing away,” she told him. “I have a boyfriend.”

      Audrey clamped her arms across her chest. “Please tell me you’re not sticking with a name like Not Franklin. What about the kittens? Will they be Not Tom, Not Dick and Not Harry?”

      Vaughn fought to keep his lips in line. “I’m not planning on naming them. I’m not planning on keeping them.” When the crowd around him sucked in a collective breath, he took a step toward his cruiser. “I don’t do cats,” he muttered.

      June blinked. “But you have four.”

      Hazel tapped a finger against her grape jelly lips. “Don’t worry. We’ll name them for you.”

      “I’m not worried,” he said.

      But he was thinking he should be.

      * * *

      CHIN IN HAND, Lily glared at the spreadsheet the mayor had ordered her to update. Office supplies, gas, auto repair, training—he wanted current figures for every expense the sheriff’s department incurred. No doubt because he intended to find somewhere else to cut.

      Only, there was nowhere else. They didn’t even have petty cash anymore.

      The mayor was probably spending it on candy.

      The back door squealed open and shut, and paper rustled. Fulton, back with their lunches. Clarissa, clapping her hands. Metal squeaked as she pulled out her desk drawer to get her purse.

      Footsteps headed Lily’s way. She had her hand on her glasses before she even realized her intent to remove them. What is wrong with you, woman? She let her hand drop and focused on her computer screen.

      Vaughn strode into her office, bringing the smell of fresh bread and sunshine.

      “Chicken,” he said, and tossed the bag onto her desk.

      “I asked for tuna.”

      “I meant you. I thought you said what’s done is done. Why’d you throw me to the dogs like that? Or should I say, the Catletts?”

      Lily turned a snort into a cough. Busted. Slowly she raised her head, fighting a smirk. Surprise stole the urge to smile when she glimpsed the humor in his eyes.

      Just her luck. He could dish it out and take it.

      “You’re right,” she muttered. “I’m sorry.” She pushed to her feet. “Next time I’ll let you know what you’re getting into.”

      “I’d appreciate that. Though if we’re going to be honest here, if I’d known what I was in for, I’d have gotten lost on the way over.”

      “I’d feel less guilty if you weren’t such a good sport.”

      “Yeah,” he drawled. “That won’t work for me.”

      “Fair enough.” She grabbed her purse, plopped it on top of a stack of folders and rummaged for her wallet. “So...” She glanced up. “How was it?”

      “As painful as you meant it to be, but I believe we reached an understanding.” He traded the bills she handed him for two quarters and a dime. “That calendar should be as popular as Mona appears to be.”

      “She did earn herself a reputation.”

      “So will I, if I don’t get rid of this shirt.”

      Lily’s smirk won out. “So what did you think of Hazel and June?”

      “I already knew them. They live beside my uncle.” He cleared his throat. “His house, I mean.”

      “I am sorry about Emerson. I should have said it sooner.”

      Fulton’s gaze flattened. “I’m sorry you arrested him.”

      Lily stiffened. “I did what I had to do.”

      “He was dying,” he said simply.

      She wouldn’t defend herself. It wouldn’t do any good, considering the anger that simmered in his hard, dark eyes. She knew better than he did that not all of that anger was directed at her.

      “What’s done is done,” she said.

      “That apply to anyone else but you?”

      For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

      “Well,” Lily finally said into the quiet as she gestured at the bag on her desk. “Thank you.”

      He gave a curt nod, and turned toward the door.

      “You’re not eating?” Damn you, guilt. The last thing she needed to do was connect with this guy, on any level. Especially a physical one, which meant she needed to stop checking him out.

      Just in time, she averted her gaze from the enticing strain of biceps beneath his shirtsleeves.

      He pivoted in the doorway. A hint of smugness flitted across his face, giving her the impression he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. “The mayor invited me to lunch.”

      Her knee jerked and banged against the desk. She swallowed a swearword. “Give him my best,” she said cheerfully.

      Fulton lifted an eyebrow.


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