At that she did turn to look at him. "You don't sound too happy about it."
Staring at the cattle, he shrugged. "I don't approve of his ranching techniques, but he can do what he wants with his cattle. I didn't have much of an opinion about Phil, one way or another, until he tried to buy us out after my father died. When we wouldn't sell, he said some pretty ugly things about the fact that Shea is running the Red Rock. I guess no one gets along with all their neighbors."
"What don't you like about his ranching techniques?"
She sounded genuinely interested, and he looked over at her in surprise. But the interest in her eyes was real. Hell, if it would keep her mind off Cameron as a tourist destination, he'd be happy to give her a ranching lesson.
He turned the steering wheel of the Blazer abruptly and pulled off the road onto the shoulder. Leaning closer to her, he stared out the window at the cattle in front of him. "See how many head of cattle he has on that pasture?"
"There seems to be a lot of them," she said cautiously.
"Too many." He compressed his lips and watched at the cattle milled restlessly around the water. "There isn't enough water running through that pasture for all the cattle he has there. So they stick close to the stream, and that causes problems for the people farther downstream. There's too much waste in the water."
"Why does he do that?" she asked, watching the cattle.
"He needs more water, but he doesn't have a source. So instead of running fewer head, he just crowds more cattle onto the pasture land he does have. He figures he'll make as much money as he can and to hell with his neighbors downstream."
"Can't anyone stop him?" she asked, and he heard outrage in her voice. When he looked at her, indignation sparked in her eyes.
He felt himself soften toward her. "It's his land. There's nothing anyone can do."
"What about the poor cows? Doesn't anyone care they're not getting enough water?"
Smothering a grin, he leaned back and watched her. "They're steers, not cows. And they're getting enough water. It's the herds downstream that are in trouble."
"Those steers don't look healthy," she said, opening her window and leaning out to look at them. A blast of hot air swirled into the car. "They look nervous."
"What does a nervous steer look like?" He had to work to keep from laughing.
She studied the cattle in front of her. "Like these," she said firmly. "Look at how they're all moving around. Someone should do something about it."
"We don't believe in sticking our noses in other people's business," he finally said. "As long as Phil Hilbert isn't doing anything illegal, he can put as many head of cattle on this pasture as he wants to."
Before she could answer, a dusty red truck coming from the opposite direction slowed, then stopped next to the Blazer. Devlin clenched his teeth as Phil Hilbert rolled down his window.
"Admiring my herd, Sheriff?" His voice was mocking.
"We're just looking, Phil." Devlin deliberately kept his voice mild.
"Maybe you're looking for some ideas. I hear your sister needs some help."
Devlin leaned forward, anger flaring. "Shea needs more employees because she's doing so well with the ranch. I doubt she'd want any management tips from you."
The older man's face flushed with rage, but instead of responding he looked over at Carly. "Is this the newest reporter to hit Cameron?"
Devlin knew the grapevine had been at work. "This is Carly Fitzpatrick." He turned to Carly. "Phil Hilbert."
Carly leaned across him. "I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Hilbert. I've been noticing your herd."
Carly's voice was cold, but Phil didn't seem to notice. He gave her an assessing look, then smiled. "I'll be happy to talk to you any time, Ms. Fitzpatrick."
"I'll keep that in mind." Now the frost was unmistakable.
Phil's smile slowly faded, then he slammed his car into gear again. "I'll see you around, McAllister."
Devlin nodded. "Hilbert."
He watched as the other man drove away, going much too fast. Then he put his truck into gear and headed back into town.
"You should have been nicer to Phil. He could give you a lot of information about Cameron." His voice was neutral.
"I doubt I would be interested in the kind of information he could give me."
He slanted a glance at her. "I didn't think you needed to like a person in order to use them."
"Like has nothing to do with it. I can see how he takes care of his animals. I would have a hard time trusting anything he said." She shrugged. "It's not that big a deal."
But it was. Devlin tightened his hands on the steering wheel and pressed the accelerator harder. It was a very big deal. He already knew how important her job was to her. The fact that she was willing to forgo talking to someone who could give her valuable information simply because she didn't like the way he treated his animals said a lot about her. He was forced to reassess his opinion of Carly, and that made her far more dangerous to his self-control. He didn't want to like anything about her. He wanted her to be simply a ruthless, driven reporter who would do anything for a story. He didn't want to see this side of her, the side that jumped to the defense of someone else's animals. The side that would jeopardize her job in Cameron because of those animals.
"It looked like there was a lot more between you and Mr. Hilbert besides your disapproval of his ranching techniques." She watched him carefully.
He shrugged. "It goes back a long way."
She settled back in her seat. "That sounds like a story, Sheriff."
Her interested voice invited confidences, urged him to tell her all about it. He realized it should be a warning signal, and he caught himself before he could tell her the full extent of what was between him and Phil. "You're good," he said with a cool smile.
"What do you mean?"
"You almost had me spilling my guts, and I know what you're up to. God help the unsuspecting citizens of Cameron."
He thought she would take offense, but instead she burst out laughing. "Caught in the act. Sorry, Devlin, I really wasn't trying to pry. And I wasn't looking for fodder for Focus. I can only plead guilty to being incurably nosy." She shrugged her shoulders and glanced over at him, her mouth slanting in a grin. "I guess that's why I became a reporter. So I could ask as many questions as I wanted and have an excuse for it."
She lounged against the seat, her hair tousled from the wind and her long, elegant legs covered by brand-new jeans. Her feet, wearing equally new hiking boots, were braced against the console of the car. She looked completely comfortable and relaxed, and a jolt of desire for her struck him with the force of a blow.
He wanted to taste her mouth, to capture the fire he sensed burning inside her. He wanted to slide his hands over the silk of her skin, letting his fingers learn her body. A narrow, black velvet cord circled her neck, disappearing beneath her shirt, and he ached to follow its path. He wanted to lose himself in her, to drown in her scent and her touch.
He was a damn fool. The last thing he wanted was to get involved with a woman who would leave in a few days or weeks. The last thing he needed was to get involved with a woman, period. He'd learned about that trap a long time ago. Deliberately he looked away, pressing on the accelerator that would get him back to Cameron and away from the temptation that was Carly. It would be a cold day in hell before he'd volunteer for anymore sightseeing expeditions.
"I appreciate you taking time out of your day to show me around Cameron." Her low voice echoed in the quiet of the car, scraping over his nerves like coarse sandpaper.
He tightened his hands on the steering wheel, trying to ignore the need that hummed through him. "Don't mention it. I'm never sorry for an excuse to spend time out here."
He wanted to make their trip sound impersonal, like something he would do for anyone. He wasn't sure he succeeded.
Carly turned and looked out the window. "It's so beautiful," she murmured. "I'd forgotten how beautiful it is."
"You've be
en to Utah before?"
He glanced over at her in surprise. If he hadn't, he would have missed the momentary tensing of her shoulders, the slight stiffening of her spine. "Years ago," she said, and the casual tone in her voice sounded forced. "When I was a kid."
"Is that why you came here to do your story?"
The silence hung between them, stretching out more and more tightly. Finally she said. "It was just coincidence." Her voice sounded stronger. "It was reading the stories about the two little girls and Sy Ames and Becca Farrell that intrigued me. Once I started to research Cameron, I realized it was a place I wanted to write about."
"Where did you visit when you were a child?"
At that she turned to look at him. "The usual tourist places, I suppose. Children's memories are unreliable."
The open, relaxed look had disappeared from her face and she was no longer smiling. Now she looked like the hard, driven reporter he wanted her to be—the kind of woman he wasn't interested in. But deep in her eyes was a disturbing vulnerability, and he had to stop himself from reaching for her.
He recited every curse he knew until the city limits of Cameron came into view. Reminding himself to slow down, he drove carefully toward Melba Corboy's boarding house. But when Carly saw where he was heading, she sat up straight.
"I want to go back to Main Street
, if that's all right with you."
"You work late hours," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.
At that she grinned again. "Working late hours my behind. I'm trying to avoid dinner at Melba's."
He couldn't stop himself from responding to the smile in her voice. Feeling an answering smile creep over his face, he turned the truck around and headed back toward his office. "I didn't realize it was almost time for dinner. That was a close call."
Her rich chuckle filled the car. "Believe me, after last night, I keep track of the time. I'm going to be planted in Heaven on Seventh for a while tonight."
He knew it was insanity, knew it was a mistake, but he couldn't stop himself. "Mind if I join you?"
The air in the car suddenly swirled with tension and unspoken questions. She hesitated for a moment too long, then said easily, "Of course not. I'd enjoy that."
He was a complete and utter fool, he told himself savagely as he parked the car and walked around to open the door for her. His mood didn't improve when she slid out of the car, her snug jeans emphasizing the long, slim length of her legs. He was jumping into a swamp full of alligators with his eyes wide open.
But when she turned to him and smiled, he felt his common sense slipping away. It was only dinner, he told himself. The restaurant would be full of people. What could happen in a crowded restaurant?
* * *
Two hours later, Carly brushed past Devlin to step onto the sidewalk in front of Heaven on Seventh. They had been in a crowded restaurant, she told herself. How had it managed to seem so intimate? Why did it feel as though they were the only two people in the room?
Because they'd been so involved in each other it was like no one else in the room even existed, she acknowledged. Neither of them had mentioned Cameron or why she was here. Instead they'd talked about themselves, about their interests and their jobs. And they'd laughed together.
That was dangerous. A shared sense of humor could be deadly. She needed to keep a clear head while she was in Cameron. She couldn't allow anything to distract her, not even the attractive sheriff. Especially not the attractive sheriff.
As they walked down the sidewalk, she tried to stop herself from edging closer to him. Even though there was a foot of space separating them, the heat from his body poured over hers. It wrapped itself around her, shielding her from the cooling air of the nighttime desert and trying to lure her into his orbit.
His scent was sharper here in the clean air, too. Pine and leather Mended together until she could smell nothing but him, until the essence of Devlin filled her senses.
She allowed herself to glance over at him, but she couldn't read his expression. His hat shielded his face in shadow. Would his gray eyes be bright silver, as they had in the restaurant, luring her, beckoning her to lose herself in their depths? Or would they be the hard pewter she'd seen earlier in the day, warning her off when she'd asked too many questions about Devlin and Cameron?
She had no idea. But she wanted to find out, and the knowledge disturbed her. She had no time in her life for involvement, and especially not with this particular man. Her body couldn't have picked a worse man to notice.
At the corner she started to turn right and Devlin started to turn left. They bumped into each other, and he reached out to steady her. His fingers curled around her arm, sending tiny shocks sizzling through her skin. His hands were hard and callused, rough against her arm. But she didn't try to pull away.
She stood staring up at him, her heart tripping once then booming in her chest. His hold on her arm shifted, turned into a caress. When he trailed his fingers down her arm and lingered over her wrist, she felt an answering tug deep in her abdomen. And when he smoothed his fingers over her palm lightly before letting his hand drop away, a thrill of desire shivered through her.
"I thought you wanted to go back to Melba's," he said, his voice deep and rough.
She swallowed once, trying to find her voice. "I do."
"Then we have to go this way." He took her arm and steered her to the left. "Melba's place is over a couple of blocks."
Heat poured into her where he held her arm. Her skin tingled from his touch and begged for more contact. She wanted to feel his hands everywhere on her skin and she wanted to touch him. After a moment he dropped her arm, but she was still too aware of him, her body aching, her fingers yearning to explore him.
She wondered if he was aware of the way her heart was pounding. It boomed so loud in her ears she was sure he could hear every beat. Even the sound of her swallow seemed to echo in the silence.
She had to regain her bearings, she thought desperately. She couldn't allow herself to want Devlin like this. "Thank you for sharing dinner with me."
Her voice didn't sound as firm and detached as she'd hoped. She sounded more like she'd just tumbled out of bed.
He looked down at her. "It was my pleasure."
His voice was too low, too personal and intimate. It didn't sound like he was thanking her for dinner, she thought helplessly. It sounded like a caress.
They were almost at Melba's. As they turned a corner, she could see the house down the street. Melba had left the porch light on, and Carly kept her gaze fixed on it. She only had to make it a few more feet and she could escape into the house and away from the disturbing sensations Devlin was causing.
When they reached the sidewalk up to Melba's porch, she turned to Devlin and offered him her hand. "Thank you for walking me home. It wasn't necessary, but I appreciate it."
Instead of taking her offered hand, he rocked back on his heels and looked over at the porch. "You're not home yet, Carly. I'll see you to the door."
Without waiting for her to answer, he put his hand in the small of her back and walked up the porch stairs with her. When she reached for the door, he slid in front of it, blocking her way.
"Good night, Carly," he whispered.
As he moved toward her she backed up, unable to look away from his face. When she reached the shadows at the edge of the porch and her legs bumped against the railing, she put her hands against his chest. "What do you want, Devlin?"
"One taste," he murmured. "That's all I want." He lifted his hands and framed her face, and her heart began to pound in her chest.
He skimmed his fingers gently down her face, their faint roughness searing her skin. His touch was as light as a caress, and when he lingered next to her mouth, she closed her eyes and shivered.
"Devlin…" she heard herself say. She barely recognized the throaty plea in her voice. It belonged to another woman, one who knew how to seduce a man. A woman who wanted to seduce this man.
Befor
e she could stop herself, before she could think, she slid her hands up his chest and around his shoulders. He felt so solid, so strong. Her hands ached to slip beneath his khaki shirt, to glide over his chest. Her heart raced and desire stirred, deep inside her, as she imagined his skin, hot and slick beneath her fingers.
As he stared down at her, he lifted one hand and swept his hat away. It landed on the floor of the porch with a soft thud. His hair gleamed golden in the faint glow from a distant streetlight, and his eyes were hot and needy.
Slowly he bent toward her, until their lips were barely touching. Even that slight caress made her shiver with need. She wanted to taste him, too. She wanted to feel his hands on her, to know that his urgency matched her own.
Then he groaned and pulled her against him. The hard planes of his body pressed into her, imprinting himself on her. When his mouth came down on hers, his kiss exploded in her mouth. Desire and need, hot and aching, swirled through her. And she felt an equal need in him. His arms trembled as he held her against him. When he moved her backward, pressing her against the wall of the house, the muscles of his leg were rock-hard with tension.
He moved restlessly against her, and she responded instinctively. Her back was against the wall of the house and he stepped between her legs, his body covering hers. He surrounded her. Every inch of her body was touching his, and she still needed to get closer to him. Her lips were fused to his, and as she moaned his name in the back of her throat, she opened her mouth to him.
Need swirled and churned inside her. It was only a kiss, and he'd taken her to heights she hadn't thought possible. Her body ached for him, ached to feel his flesh against her flesh. When he slid his hands down her back and cupped her hips in his palms, pulling her closer against him, she groaned, deep in her throat. and strained against him.
When he moved from her lips and trailed his mouth down her neck, she tightened her hands on his shirt. "Devlin," she gasped.
He lifted his head to stare at her, and in the moonlight she saw the glitter of arousal in his eyes. Slowly he brought his hands up to her face and smoothed his thumbs along her cheeks. Then he bent his head to kiss her again, his mouth consuming hers. She tasted his need and his passion as they melded with hers, all rational thought falling away as she gave herself over to the sensations of his mouth and body on hers.
COWBOY WITH A BADGE Page 4