I Shocked The Sheriff. Mara Fox
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out.
A man she didn’t know. Hadn’t she changed at all? “I guess so.”
“Are you feeling dizzy again?”
Yes. “No, I’m fine. Just tired.”
Prolonged celibacy caused her reaction, she knew. Nothing more.
He didn’t move. The tempest hovered just beyond them. If this was big-sky country she should be able to see what came next.
She shifted nervously. He bent down. She closed her eyes. Did she feel the brush of his lips on her cheek? Her eyes popped open. “You didn’t kiss me, did you?” she accused him in a tone laced with panic. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
It must be the odd light, Luke thought. Her skin had taken on the washed out color of a corpse, which had brought to mind that stupid fairy tale about a dead girl who needed a kiss.
“I wouldn’t kiss you,” he denied, hoping he wasn’t blushing because he had been thinking about her in that way. Not as just a stranger in trouble, but as a woman. “It wouldn’t be professional. I just brushed a strand of hair off of your cheek.”
Roxanne Adams pursed her lips, as if she didn’t think much of him.
Luke laughed at the look on her face. He couldn’t seem to help it. She’d looked both horrified and defiant. How he admired her sassy attitude! And despite lank hair, the circles under those crystal eyes and the hitch in her stride, she was desirable. Though she made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her and he wanted to protect her.
What had gotten into him? Hadn’t she been making a mockery of his town and his life all day long? Hadn’t she shaken his confidence in what he thought he wanted—Carla and a bunch of kids growing up in Red Wing?
Definitely not a ragged redhead with a chip on her shoulder.
“I get the impression this job persona is everything to you. Too bad there isn’t a heart under the badge.”
Obviously cutting truth was her weapon of choice. Luke simply wouldn’t allow her to get to him. “You’ve been out of your head the entire time you’ve known me. You’re hardly in a position to say anything about me.” It came out as casually as he could have wished.
“True. But I’m observant. I’ll bet you have no life beyond the job.” She ran her tongue over her pale pink lips. “Boy, I’d kill for a drink of water.”
She wanted a drink of water? Miss Dallas had just reached inside of his head and summed up his entire life, and she wanted a drink of water?
He blinked. No. She didn’t know him, and she didn’t know about Carla. But I can’t remember if Carla has freckles under her makeup. And I can’t remember if her bottom lip quivers when she’s defensive. But I can list the criminal offences of all the men I’ve arrested and the dates they get out of prison. When had the job become his life?
He pushed the door open, suddenly needing to get away from her.
She ducked inside.
Luke glanced around. “It’s probably not what you’re used to, but Millie’s floors are clean enough to eat off of.”
She walked inside and then reached over to turn on the bedside light. She looked around with a smile. “It’s definitely brown. Not much better than orange but better than sleeping outside tonight.”
In the soft lighting, her red-gold curls resembled a crown. What would they look like spread out on the pillows? And her skin? Only a shade darker than the sheets, was it as soft as it looked?
“Who’s Millie?” she asked as she bent over to take off her sandals. Her position emphasized her long body.
His gaze clung to the seductive curve of her hip. His feet refused to enter the room. “Millie, the maid who’s worked at the motel for twenty plus years. She’s also in charge of the town grapevine.”
“Ah, gossip. It must be really juicy in a town like this one. Every once in a while someone must run over an armadillo. I’ll bet it keeps you folks talking for months.”
“This town has its moments.”
She approached the doorway where he hung on to the frame. She didn’t appear to be in a hurry to get a drink of water. In fact she looked like she had all the time in the world.
Did Carla move like that? Like she was honey in motion? He shifted nervously, wanting to be anywhere but here.
“What moments? Vandalism? Ice cream missing from the town’s soda shop?”
For a moment he floundered, wondering what she was talking about, distracted by her every gesture, and then he remembered. Crime. They were talking about his work. The work he never forgot. “Real crimes,” he insisted.
She leaned in the shadows of the door frame, her long, long legs and elegant red toenails inches from his boots.
Luke swallowed hard. “The porch light must be out. I’ll go and tell Lloyd. Good night, Miss Adams.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me about the awful crimes people in this town commit?’
Her eyes were deep and mysterious. He expected they would be mocking if he could see them more clearly. He would do well to remember she’s Miss Dallas. “Anywhere there’s people there’s crime. The sad thing about small towns is that most of the crimes are committed by people who know one another.”
“Crimes of passion?”
Her throaty tone reached parts of him he’d do better to ignore. He straightened up. “I’ve got to be going. Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah. I’m going to be just fine. Maybe a little lonely.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out two twenty-dollar bills. “This is for whatever you may need until the bank opens tomorrow.” He hoped she’d swallow her pride and take the money.
She hesitated. “It’s just a loan. Just until the wire comes through,” she confirmed.
“Sure.”
She took the money and stuffed it into the back pocket of her shorts. He focused on her face but it wasn’t much safer than her curves.
“I saw the restaurant. What is it, The Golden Pig? Will you accept a nice dinner in lieu of interest?”
“It’s The Golden Pan.” His tone had hardened.
“The Golden Pan,” she repeated tentatively, uncertainties making her look as innocent as a child.
She hadn’t meant to make fun of the restaurant, Luke realized. I guess I don’t have to be so defensive. It’s just that it’s such a temptation to see her again.
Too much of a temptation. “You can drop the money by the station if I don’t see you before you leave town. Just leave it with Bertha at the front desk.”
All too aware he was trying to say goodbye, his gaze touched each of her features.
“Would you like to come in?” She hesitated a moment as if she’d like to take the offer back, shifting nervously on her feet. Then she looked into his face. “I may be from Dallas, but I don’t say that to every man I meet,” she said defensively.
She trembled when the back of his fingers grazed her soft, flushed cheek. Her eyes were as deep as his fishing hole. Was this why he believed in her? This vulnerability that seemed so honest in a woman so bold and brassy? She’s such a contradiction.
Such a temptation.
“I can’t.”
She smiled. “Of course. It’s unprofessional. I understand.” She almost taunted him.
“I can’t because I’m engaged.”
Her head came up.
She