Laura and the Lawman

by Shelley Cooper

  As the crow flies it was only ten miles from the Bickham estate to the nearest town. Given, however, the condition of the road leading from Vincent Bickham’s property to the main road, and coupled with Michael’s caution driving it, it took them nearly thirty minutes to get there. By that time Laura was nearly salivating.

  The town proper featured a lovely tree-shaded park, a square replete with gurgling fountain and statues of founding fathers and a main street lined with quaint Victorian storefronts boasting names like Blue Bonnet Bakery, Kunst Five and Dime and Joe’s Butcher Shop.

  “Oh, stop, please,” she cried, her delight forcing her hunger from her mind.

  Michael slanted a glance at her. “It’s been a long day, Ruby. Could we save the window-shopping for another time?”

  She stemmed a surge of impatience. She didn’t want to shop; far from it.

  “Indulge me, Michael. Please?”

  “You’re the boss.”

  With a long-suffering sigh he pulled to the curb. The truck had barely come to a halt when Laura climbed out, smoothed down her skirt, and, despite her aching feet, set off down the street. She moved from store to store, her pace picking up as she avidly studied every detail of the gaily colored buildings. To her surprise, halfway down the block Michael fell into step beside her.

  “Interesting place,” he said.

  “For the record,” she said, “I’m not window-shopping. I’m studying the architecture.”

  “I realize that. Now.”

  As apologies went, it wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Her hand swept out, indicating the store in front of them. It was painted a pale lilac and outlined with intricately carved gingerbread molding.

  “I just love old things, don’t you?” she enthused.

  “That’s why I auction off antiques,” he replied dryly.

  Except for a few people strolling here and there, the street was empty. Apparently, according to the signs in the windows, everyone closed up shop promptly at 5:00 p.m., and it was now almost eight.

  Ignoring his sarcasm, she moved on to the next store. “I feel like we’ve driven through a time warp. Any minute now I expect these doors to burst open, and we’ll see ladies come strolling out in long skirts and bustles, accompanied by men in dark suits and high hats.”

  Unable to conceal the depth of her excitement, Laura smiled up at him. Michael didn’t smile back. Instead, his body seemed to tense, and he went utterly still. A sudden emotion blazed in his eyes, causing her smile to falter and her heart to skip a beat. Powerless to look away, she watched in fascination while his throat worked and a nerve pulsed in his temple.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He spoke as if he were in the midst of a revelation.

  Had he uttered the words in his customary insolent drawl, and with that knowing smirk that never failed to send her temper soaring, she wouldn’t have felt a thing. But the absolute sincerity in his voice, and in his eyes, told her he meant every word.

  Laura’s breath caught, and something deep inside her unfurled and went all soft and malleable. A pulse of pleasure, pure and unadulterated, the strength of which she hadn’t experienced in years, radiated slowly outward from her center. It left her feeling hot and definitely bothered as they both continued to stand there awkwardly, neither seeming to know what to do. Or say.

  Don’t! she wanted to cry. Don’t look at me that way. Because if you do, I won’t be able to…

  To what? Do her job? Handle it? Resist him? Walk away? Ridiculous notions, each and every one of them.

  What had happened to the man who had practically bent over backward assuring her he didn’t find her in the least attractive? What had happened to the woman who thought he was the most annoying creature on the face of the earth? And why, oh, why, had she ever asked him to stop? First it was his hand on her breast, now this. What could possibly happen next? Her knees nearly buckled at the thought.

  The last person to tell her she was beautiful had been her husband. And the look in Jacob’s eyes when he spoke those precious words had been tender, and loving. The look in Michael’s eyes wasn’t tender, and it wasn’t loving. It was hot and needful and demanding. For Laura to respond to it, the way she had, seemed like a betrayal of everything that had been good and honorable about her marriage.

  It was just hormones, she told herself, as what was becoming an all-too-familiar guilt filled her. It certainly wasn’t her admiration for the man at her side. Her reaction was purely chemical, with no underpinnings to give it any meaning or depth. As such, it was meaningless to her.

  Sincere or not, she couldn’t let him get to her like this. Not only did it complicate matters unnecessarily, she was simply not in the market for even the most fleeting of relationships. And he had made it more than clear that fleeting was all he would ever offer. When the time came that she did begin looking for a suitable candidate—if she ever did—the man would not only have to stimulate her sexual nature, he would first have to earn her admiration and respect. He would have to have scruples. And goals more far-reaching than making an easy buck.

  In short, not Michael.

  Finally, mercifully, she found her voice. “Th-thank you,” she stammered.

  Immediately she wished she could call the words back. Th-thank you? Had she actually said, Th-thank you?

  It didn’t help that she had fallen totally out of character yet again. Nor did it help, knowing that Ruby would have handled the situation with aplomb. She would have said something light and meaningless to dispel the tension. That, in turn, would have elicited one of two reactions from Michael: laughter or irritation. Either was preferable to the way he was looking at her now.

  Thank goodness her contact officer couldn’t see—and hear—her. If he could, she had no doubt he would pull her off the case faster than she could draw her gun. That is, if she had been wearing it, instead of stashing it away in a suitcase.

  She was making too many mistakes. She really needed that vacation.

  One thing was certain. The next time she went undercover, she was going to create a character just like herself. This was one folly she didn’t care to repeat.

  Michael gave a strangled laugh. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me. It must be this place. It gets to you, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she agreed, eager to grasp at any excuse to change the mood. “Yes, it does.”

  He tore his gaze from hers and looked at the sign hanging above their heads. “This store looks interesting.”

  Still unsettled, Laura read the sign hanging below a black-and-white-striped awning. E. J. Fulton, Haberdasher.

  “I’ve never seen an actual haberdashery before,” she said. “I thought they disappeared years ago.”

  “Apparently this one hasn’t.”

  Though she had lost all interest in the local architecture, she continued walking down the street. Michael followed, staying a pace or two behind. The distance didn’t stop her from feeling the heat emanating from his body or from smelling his scent, which, after the long day they’d just spent, was not of soap and aftershave but of perspiration and hard work. Surprisingly, she didn’t find it at all unpleasant.

  Every now and then Michael would stop to point out an item of interest—once he even openly ogled an attractive woman who passed them. Laura, still so distracted she barely heard half of what he said, would simply nod in reply and move on. At the end of the street they turned around and headed back to the truck.

  She felt somewhat composed by the time she engaged her seat belt. For his part Michael seemed to have forgotten the incident entirely. He seemed relaxed, unconcerned. What was he thinking? Feeling?

  The man was such a mass of contradictions. Would she ever understand him? Did she even want to try?

  For reasons of his own that she couldn’t begin to fathom, except that maybe he was bored, Michael was deliberately trying to keep her off balance. It was the only explanation that made sense. The only explanation that accounted for his rapid, and un
settling, mood swings.

  He was toying with her, like a cat with a mouse. Every time she thought she’d escaped, he’d come bounding around a corner and pounce on her again. Well, she had news for him. She was no longer going to serve as his source of entertainment. This mouse was going on strike. If he needed to be amused, let him watch television. Or read a book.

  If he could read.

  For some reason, the uncharitable thought made her feel better.

  Laura stared out the windshield and made a mental vow. She was tired, hungry and cranky, and definitely prone to making a serious misstep. Until she got some food in her belly and a good night’s sleep, until she felt more centered and in control of both her actions and her reactions, she was going to keep her gaze pointed straight ahead and her thoughts a careful blank.

  And if Michael came at her sideways, out of the range of her peripheral vision? She’d reach out a hand and swat him. Hard.

  Buskey’s Motel was located a half mile outside town.

  The sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon when Antonio pulled into the parking lot. Despite the favorable light that softened the focus of the building, like pantyhose over a camera lens, it was readily apparent that the place possessed none of the charm of the town they had left behind them. Across the road, the convenience store, with its gas pumps and gravel parking lot, looked more inviting.

  Instead of being depressed by the sight, he actually felt relieved. At least this place wouldn’t inspire him to make any more stupid moves or remarks. Or so he fervently hoped.

  Buskey’s might be rustic. It might even be a little bit seedy. But it was definitely hopping. By all appearances it not only housed out-of-towners, it also served as the local watering hole. In a place where every other establishment closed its doors promptly at five, it and the convenience store held exclusive rights to the night crowd. While only one or two cars were parked in front of the actual rooms, the spaces were filled in front of the main building, where a neon sign reading Lounge blinked in the window.

  Antonio shot a hooded glance at the woman at his side. Ruby hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left town.

  His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and he felt a nerve pulsating in his temple. What, after all, was there left for her to say? He’d certainly said a mouthful.

  What was she thinking? He sure as hell couldn’t tell.

  Her silence was disturbing on more than one level. Not only did it leave him feeling naked and exposed, the way he had in the minutes following his impulsive utterance, it downright worried him. Because he had fully expected the Ruby he was coming to know to have laughed in his face at his romantic foolishness. Instead, she seemed as rattled by the whole episode as he was. And that didn’t compute. Not at all. Ruby O’Toole was not a woman who was ever at a loss for words where a man was concerned.

  Until now, that is. He hadn’t even been able to elicit a snide remark from her by openly ogling a woman on the street—the one action, ironically, that had been appropriate for him in his role as Michael to make.

  Antonio still didn’t understand what had gotten into him. All sorts of explanations sprang to his mind when he tried to reason and rationalize it out. The way the fading sunlight had silhouetted her face, making her look like an angel. The glow of almost childlike enjoyment in her eyes as she moved from store to store. His sheer exhaustion from driving all day, having his truck batted around on that shameful disgrace for a road, and then putting in several hours of toil at the Bickham mansion. The toll of having to remain in character for more than twelve hours straight. Temporary insanity.

  Even more insane was the realization that those three little words—you’re so beautiful—were the most honest words he’d ever spoken to a woman. In the dim, distant recesses of his mind, he couldn’t escape the ridiculous notion that, when he had offered them up to her, he’d been saying so much more.

  It was one thing to want Ruby physically. It was quite another to offer her a piece—not of his heart, surely, but of himself. Antonio wasn’t in the position to offer a woman anything; even a woman like Ruby. And neither was Michael.

  If only she had blithely dismissed his words, the fragile, unfledged emotion that had consumed him would have died a merciful death.

  But she hadn’t. And so that feeling still had its hold on him. As a result, he was terrified for them both.

  Because there was only one explanation that made sense. On some level, whether Ruby was willing to acknowledge it or not, she wasn’t as immune to him as she professed to be. She might even, he thought, his heart thudding, be attracted to him.

  Antonio gave himself a mental shake. If he was susceptible to her dubious charms and she was to his, it could only spell trouble with a capital T. For him, because he could no longer maintain his objectivity around her—hell, he wondered if he ever could. And for Ruby, because if Joseph ever suspected that her loyalties were divided… That thought didn’t bear finishing.

  No matter what he was feeling, or whether that feeling was reciprocated, he had still been wrong for speaking so impulsively. Never before had he said something so foolishly stupid, especially while on a job. With three carelessly spoken words, he had put the entire case in jeopardy. To act any further on his feelings would only invite disaster.

  He had to make things right between them again. Which meant he had to kill any positive feelings she might have for him. Even if it made getting information from her difficult if not next to impossible.

  Antonio climbed out of the truck. He heard the slam of Ruby’s door, followed by the tap of her heels across the pavement. She met him in front of the main office. He knew exactly what he had to do.

  “This is the suitable accommodation Joseph found for us?” he asked, pasting a look of revulsion on his face.

  Ruby looked down at the paper in her hand, then over at the sign on the edge of the parking lot. “This is it.”

  “It isn’t exactly a four-star hotel.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve stayed in worse.”

  He allowed his lip to curl. “Alone or with company?”

  “Both.”

  When she didn’t rise to his bait, Antonio knew he had to do something to shake her out of her distraction, but fast. The less she analyzed, the better off they both would be.

  He raised an eyebrow. “But it’s a motel.”

  “So?”

  “It’s a motel, Ruby,” he repeated, stressing the M. “Motel not hotel.”

  “Yes,” she replied, her voice still dangerously impassive. “I realize that.”

  “You mean you’re actually going to stay here?”

  A sigh of impatience was his reward. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Ruby, but you’re just not the motel type.”

  She turned to him then. “Unless, that is, as you already insinuated, I was with someone who was renting the room by the hour?” she said sweetly.

  Yes! Now they were getting somewhere. He held up his hands, as if in surrender. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. Your meaning was more than clear.”

  Instead of trying to deny it, he said, “You sure there isn’t any other place for us to stay?”

  Ruby extended an arm, encompassing their surroundings. “In case you haven’t noticed, we are in the middle of nowhere. Few, if any, major hotel chains build in the middle of nowhere. Not enough customers, you see.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Antonio tried to make his voice as ingratiating and grating as possible. “Believe it or not, I was thinking of you.”

  “And just what were you thinking of me?”

  “You, Ruby, are a woman who likes her creature comforts. Do you deny that?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Motels aren’t renowned for their creature comforts.”

  Suddenly she seemed weary. “I’m a realist, Michael. I didn’t expect to be spending the next few days in the lap of luxury.”

  �
�So you really won’t mind staying here?” he pressed.

  “I believe I told you when we met that I’m deadly serious about my work. For the sake of that work, I can endure anything for a few days.”

  Her pointed look told him he was one of those things.

  Antonio felt a surge of triumph. A few seconds later, the triumph receded, leaving a peculiar hollowness in its wake. Unaccountably he felt a vague intuition that, by his actions, he had just lost far more than he’d gained. Although what it was he could have lost remained hidden from him.

  Ruby settled her hands on her hips. “And I’m not going to let you stand there and get away with telling me that my reaction to staying here was your only concern.”

  “Okay, so I’m not into self-denial any more than you are,” Antonio replied, shaking off his ambivalence. He’d gotten what he wanted, and it was time to exploit it further. Ruby might as well learn up front that Michael was as vain, self-centered and fond of creature comforts as she was. Truth was, they’d make a great pair. If she wasn’t so loyal to Joseph, that is. And if Michael actually existed.

  But the pairing that made absolutely no sense and defied rational explanation, no matter how hot and bothered she made him, was Ruby and Antonio.

  A bored-looking clerk checked them in. After parking in front of their appointed rooms, Michael wrestled Laura’s suitcases from the back of his truck and followed her to her door.

  She wasn’t surprised that Joseph had booked them adjoining rooms, but she had hoped to achieve more space between them. Oh, well, a wall was going to have to suffice. She was exhausted, and once she’d filled her empty belly she should have little trouble falling asleep. At least while she was sleeping, Michael wouldn’t be able to disturb her equilibrium. Unless, that is—and at this point she wouldn’t put anything past him—he somehow managed to invade her dreams.

  The possibility made her shudder.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  Anything but. “Just an unpleasant thought.”

  Laura decided there was no way he could disturb her dreams if she didn’t want him to. She would simply put pleasant images into her brain in the moments before she fell asleep, and she would have nothing to worry about.