A Laramie, Texas Christmas. Cathy Thacker Gillen
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blushed as Kevin McCabe moved closer, his glance roving over her upturned face. “We’ve met,” she murmured, thrown by the lawman’s deliberate proximity to her.
“Although I daresay I wasn’t nearly this presentable at the time,” Kevin teased, scrubbing a hand across his freshly shaved jaw.
He cleaned up well; Noelle grudgingly gave him that. His tan uniform was crisply ironed, his leather boots bore a subtle glow. And he smelled great, too—like soap and woodsy cologne. She tore her eyes from the cleft in his chin that had been obscured by the beard he’d had just an hour or so earlier. He still needed a haircut, but his thick, golden-brown hair had been brushed into order, and looked just as soft, clean and touchable as ever.
“You must be the department expert on fraud,” Dash stated, standing to shake his hand.
Kevin nodded, even as Noelle refused to let him intimidate her with his I’m-in-charge-here body language. She had nothing to hide, at least as far as Miss Sadie’s case was concerned.
Mikey looked up from his toys, stared at Kevin curiously—as if trying to reconcile the clean-shaven Kevin with the bearded Kevin—then smiled and went back to playing with his Santa sleigh and reindeer. Noelle knew exactly how her son felt. There was the rough-hewn Kevin who had shown up fresh from a fishing trip, seemingly bent on giving her a hard time, and the good guy lawman standing in front of her. She didn’t know which version she found more alluring. She only knew being close to him threatened her peace of mind. And that was something she tried very hard to avoid.
She liked dull. Predictable.
Life, she was sure, would never be those things with Kevin McCabe anywhere in the vicinity.
“I specialize in computer fraud and identity theft,” he continued, oblivious to the nature of her thoughts. To her relief, he swiftly got down to business. While Kevin and Miss Sadie went over the specifics, Dash carried her belongings in from the van. Noelle worked on hanging up her clothing, setting up her vanity table and toiletries, favorite antique rocking chair and footstool, side table and reading lamp.
One minute Mikey had been playing nicely near the register beneath the windows. The next time Noelle turned around he was standing next to Kevin, running the sleigh and reindeer from the detective’s knee along the outside of his thigh and back again. Kevin continued talking with Miss Sadie, completely at ease.
Embarrassed, Noelle went to intervene. “Mikey, honey—”
“It’s okay.” Kevin lifted a hand. “I’m used to kids. I don’t mind.”
Noelle could see he truly didn’t, which only made him all the more appealing.
Dash walked back in, carrying Miss Sadie’s favorite Tiffany lamp. “Where do you want this?”
“Bedside table,” his aunt replied.
“I’m going to need copies of those credit card and debit card statements,” Kevin said, rising.
“They’re all at Blackberry Hill.” Miss Sadie looked at Noelle. “Could you make copies of the statements for him on the copier in my office, dear?”
Noelle told herself she was not at all disappointed that her time with Kevin McCabe had once again come to an end. “No problem.”
“Meantime, I assume all the companies involved have been notified.” Kevin rocked back on his heels.
“I did that while my aunt was in surgery yesterday, using the credit and debit cards in her wallet,” Dash confirmed, every bit as serious about protecting his aunt as Kevin was. “We still have to notify the companies who opened fraudulent accounts in her name without her knowledge or permission.”
“I can help with that.” Kevin handed over the police report for Sadie to sign.
Noelle noted that Sadie was looking tired. Mikey was beginning to get cranky, too. “I better get this little one some supper,” she said.
“I’ll stay with Aunt Sadie,” Dash promised.
By the time Noelle got back to Blackberry Hill, it was dark and Mikey was starving. From the groceries she had brought with her from Houston, she heated up a toddler chicken-and-noodle casserole and a jar of bite-size green beans in the microwave, poured milk into a sippy cup and cut up a banana. She put on some Christmas music and sat with her son while he ate.
Tired as he was, he had no desire to cut short his bath, so it was another forty-five minutes before she had him in his pajamas and tucked into the pack-and-play crib she used when they traveled. Noelle stayed with him until he went to sleep, made sure the baby monitor was set, then headed back downstairs in time to see headlights arcing across the front of the big house.
Figuring it was Dash, she opened the door and saw Kevin McCabe getting out of a patrol car instead.
Chapter Three
“Expecting someone else?” Kevin asked, surprised by how good it felt to see her.
“Certainly not a trespassing bum.”
He grinned at her self-effacing tone, glad she had concluded he really was no threat to her or her son. He wasn’t used to being regarded with suspicion. He rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I clean up good, huh?”
“Apparently so.” The wind whipped up, sending a chill through the front hall. She waited for him to wipe his feet on the mat, then ushered him inside. Her eyes glimmered with a combination of mischief and warm hospitality he found very appealing. “What can I do for you, Detective McCabe?”
Kevin swept off his hat and held it close to his chest. He reminded himself he was there on business. Not pleasure. “I wanted to go ahead and get copies of all Miss Sadie’s theft-related mail. The sooner we get this situation sorted out for her, the better.”
Noelle sobered at the mention of the crime. She pointed wordlessly to the coat rack next to the door, and Kevin hung his Stetson there. “Do you think you’re going to be able to figure out who did this?” she asked, leading the way to the formal living room.
Kevin tore his gaze from the alluring sway of her hips. “The culprits are smart. But criminals always trip up eventually. And a single mistake is all we need to arrest them.”
Noelle stopped in front of three large stacks of mail. She looked over at Kevin with a frown. “I haven’t had a chance to go through any of her mail yet.”
Kevin had been hoping that would be the case. “That’s okay. I can sort it out.”
She ran her teeth across her lush lower lip. “Maybe the kitchen table would be better?”
He eyed the antique settee and the small oval coffee table. She was right. No way was that going to be comfortable. “Probably. Thanks.”
Noelle helped him pick up the letters and discarded envelopes. She led the way to the kitchen. While he began sorting the mail into piles, she turned on a baby monitor and set it on the corner of the counter. “I was just about to have dinner.” She looked in the freezer compartment of the refrigerator and studied a stack of glossy white cardboard boxes, the exact thing he would have been doing had he been home alone tonight. “Can I get you anything?”
Yes. You.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
“I don’t want to intrude.” Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.
She waved off his protest. “We have chicken fettuccini and broccoli, beef and broccoli and lemon chicken and broccoli.”
Kevin detected a theme. “Got a thing for broccoli, do you?”
Her blue eyes gleamed at his teasing tone. She tilted her head to one side and regarded him with mock gravity, declaring stubbornly, “I’m not admitting to anything, Detective.”
He grinned at her playful attitude. This was a woman who could