Smooth-Talking Texan

by Candace Camp

  The front door opened, and Quinn stepped out, pushing open the screen door. He had changed into jeans, and his feet were bare. A blue shirt hung casually outside his trousers, and he was in the process of rolling down his sleeves.

  “Hi. Come in.” He smiled at her, his eyes warming in a way that sent tendrils of heat twisting through her abdomen.

  When she reached him, he kissed her chastely on the cheek, then straightened, waving a hand toward the man walking the dog. “Hey, Mr. Halbrook, how you doing?”

  He stepped back to allow her to enter and followed her inside, closing the door behind him. Lisa stopped in the hallway, glancing at the front rooms opening off the hall on either side of her. She took in the oak antique furniture.

  “This isn’t what I expected,” she admitted.

  “What? You thought there’d be mirrors on the ceiling? A big round bed on a pedestal?”

  She smiled wryly. “No. I’m not sure what I thought your place would look like. But I didn’t figure on antiques.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t really think of them as antiques. Sounds too effete. They’re just old farm things. Homey.” He nodded his head down the hall toward the large old-fashioned kitchen at the rear. “You mind coming into the kitchen? I’ve got to make sure nothing’s burning.”

  “Sure.” Lisa followed him down the hall, intrigued by the image of Quinn cooking. Her eyes drifted down the long, slim line of his legs, hugged by the worn, faded blue jeans, to his bare feet. She had never realized before, she thought, how sexy bare feet and jeans could look on a man.

  Quinn went to the stove to check on the pots and pans. At that moment a small head stuck itself out from behind the curtains that hung across the bottom half of the kitchen window. Piercing green eyes regarded Lisa carefully, and, an instant later, the cat jumped out from behind the curtain and landed lightly on the floor. It stalked across the floor to the center of the kitchen and stood, looking up at Lisa.

  The animal was the homeliest cat that Lisa had ever seen.

  “Well,” Lisa said, addressing the still animal, “you look like you’ve been in a few fights. Only thing is, I can’t tell if you won or lost.”

  “Oh, won,” Quinn said, turning around to look at the cat, then at Lisa. “Jo-Jo’s about the meanest animal I know. I figure if he looks like this, the others must have all looked a lot worse.”

  Lisa smiled. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a cat-lover, either.”

  “I know. My brothers are embarrassed by me,” Quinn said, grinning. “But I don’t know that I love cats. It’s just Jo-Jo.”

  “Ah, I see.” She addressed the cat. “Well, I have to admit you look pretty special.” She bent over, holding out her hand. “Hey, Jo-Jo, would you come say hi?”

  “Better watch out. Jo-Jo’s—well, unpredictable. He sank his claws into Daniel once, and he regularly chases his dog out of the yard.”

  “A watch cat, huh?” Lisa said, still smiling at Jo-Jo.

  Jo-Jo blinked, then trotted over to Lisa and bumped her hand with his head. She stroked his head, and his eyes slitted in pleasure, his chest starting a rumble of pleasure.

  “Wow. I’ve never seen him do that.” Quinn regarded his pet with surprise, then cast Lisa a look of awe. “I am impressed. Jo-Jo is not a pushover.”

  Lisa chuckled as the cat proceeded to twine around her ankles, purring. “He just has good taste.”

  “That’s true. Would you like a beer? A glass of wine?”

  “Wine would be nice.”

  Lisa sat down at one of the chairs around the heavy, old-fashioned table, and watched as he finished stirring a pot and replaced the lid, then went to the cabinet to take out a wineglass. “When did you get Jo-Jo?”

  “I didn’t, exactly. He got me. Not too long after I moved back here, one day I came home and there he was, lurking in the bushes outside. He looked like he’d been in a fight. He was pretty wary, though, wouldn’t come inside or even come close to me. So I set out some food for him, and after I’d leave, he would come out and eat it. I started leaving it on the porch, and he would come up there, and finally one day he let me touch him. Then one afternoon, when I came home from work and opened the front door, he just trotted right in like he owned the place and lay down on the sofa in the living room. Been here ever since.” He cast an affectionate look at the animal as he carried the glass over to Lisa. “He still sneaks out and gets into fights sometimes, though, the old reprobate.”

  Lisa cast him a speaking look. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Quinn grinned at her. “I have to admit, I always like the feisty ones.” He sat down and rested his arm on the table, sliding his hand over and lightly running a finger along her arm. “I’m glad you came over tonight.”

  Lisa could think of nothing to say; the touch of his skin on hers took away all thought. She was aware of nothing but the faint tug of his rougher flesh against hers, the light in his mahogany eyes as they gazed into hers, the heat that surged in her at his nearness.

  He curled his hand around her palm and lifted her hand, pressing his lips against her fingers. “I kept thinking about you today. Fact is, I had trouble thinking about anything else.”

  “Quinn…”

  “I know. You’re not sure.” He gave her hand a squeeze and let it go, standing up. “I’m not pushing, just stating a fact.” He moved toward the stove, saying over his shoulder, “Now, how do you feel about chicken cacciatore?”

  “If that’s what’s making that delicious odor I’ve been smelling, then I think I feel very good about it,” Lisa joked, folding her hands together to hide the faint trembling in them.

  They kept the conversation on a light plane all through dinner, and afterward they sat in the swing on the front porch, desultorily talking and enjoying the pleasant October air. Quinn looped his arm around her shoulders, but the curiosity of his neighbors made his front porch too public a place for anything more.

  “I have the feeling that everyone on the block is watching us,” Lisa joked.

  Quinn let out a little grunt. “You wouldn’t be far wrong.”

  “Is everyone in a small town like this?”

  “They’re interested,” he replied.

  “How do you stand it?”

  He shrugged. “Well, the reason they’re so curious is because they care. Because they know you. In the city, you see two people together, and they’re total strangers to you. What do you care about them? Here, people know you. You’re one of their own. So they’re interested in what you’re doing. Now, they’re probably more interested in what’s going on here because I’m the sheriff. So everybody kind of feels like they have a say in what I do. Mr. Miller, across the street there, couldn’t care less what I do. He likes to sit in the dark every night and watch TV. But Mrs. Knight, next door, thinks she’s my substitute mother. She brings me cookies and cakes and things, so she’ll want to know whether you’re good enough for me.”

  “Well, I like that!”

  He chuckled. “But Aaron Halbrook, the guy who was walking his dog, is only interested in whether I catch the graffiti artists.”

  “Graffiti artists? Where is there graffiti?”

  “Water tower west of town is the favorite place. Every year or two, some kid who’s graduating from high school that year likes to climb the water tower and paint ‘Seniors’ and his class’s year on it. There’s also a big rock on the highway north of here that’s a pretty good spot, too. We drive extra patrols past them around graduation time.”

  “And is that the height of crime in Angel Eye?”

  “According to Aaron, it is. He also plays poker with my dad, so that gives him extra authority to complain, you see.”

  “Of course.”

  “Mrs. Pena, next to Mr. Miller on your right, is part of the very large and interconnected family network of my night dispatcher, Lena. You met her at the wedding.”

  “Yeah, I remember. She and Rita Delgado invited me to make tamales at Chri
stmas.”

  “Right. Well, Mrs. Pena’s house is dark so that we can’t see her standing at her front window watching. Quite frankly, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s using binoculars. Probably has a portable phone in her hand, reporting to Lena.”

  Lisa laughed.

  “I’m serious. It’s a point of honor with her. She would be mortified if she wasn’t the first on the phone to Lena with any news about me. ’Course, it wouldn’t be as bad if I weren’t single.”

  “Mmm, I can see that you wouldn’t provide as much entertainment.”

  “Now, there you go again, assuming I’m a swinging bachelor. I don’t know whether I should be flattered you think I have so much appeal or appalled at your opinion of my morals.”

  “Well, you know…I heard that you date a lot.”

  He looked at her evenly. “That doesn’t mean I sleep with them all.”

  Lisa gazed back at him, surprised and pleased by his words. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” He paused, then said. “In fact, the reason they’re so all-fired curious about you is because they never see a woman over here.”

  “You’re kidding. Why not?”

  “It’s usually not worth stirring up the gossip. So they know that you’re special.”

  Lisa’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart was suddenly pounding, and she was aware of a strong urge to throw herself into his arms. How could such simple words have the power to affect her so much?

  He grinned. “Well, now I know how to shut you up.” He rose, extending his hand down to her. “Come on, you probably better get on home now, or my neighbors will all lose too much sleep.”

  Lisa took his hand and stood up. She found herself reluctant to go. Was he not even going to kiss her?

  “You’ll need your purse, right?” He led her inside and closed the door behind them.

  Then he turned, his eyes alight, his hands going to her waist, and he backed her up against the door to give her a long, thorough kiss. When finally he raised his head, he smiled, saying, “Handy things, purses.”

  Lisa chuckled, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss him again.

  After several minutes, Quinn pulled back reluctantly. “Unfortunately, purses aren’t a very time-consuming excuse.” He kissed her gently on each eyebrow, then the tip of her nose. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I don’t want to, either,” Lisa admitted honestly.

  The heat in his eyes went up a notch, and he pulled her back against him. “Maybe we’ll just let them talk.”

  His hand moved down her back, pressing her firmly against his taut body. Reluctantly Lisa shook her head. “No. We better not.”

  She looked up into his face, and she knew that he could see in hers that she was fast running out of resistance. He bent and kissed her lips gently.

  “Next time,” he said, his voice rife with promise.

  Lisa was sitting at her desk the next morning, papers spread in front of her, dreamily thinking about the evening before, when the shrill buzz of the phone broke her reverie.

  “Benny Hernandez, line one,” Kiki announced.

  Lisa pushed in the button for the line. “Lisa Mendoza.”

  “Miss Mendoza!” Benny’s voice was thin and jumpy.

  “Yes? Is something the matter?”

  “He picked me up again. They’ve got me down at the sheriff’s office.”

  “Qui—Sheriff Sutton arrested you?”

  “No. Two deputies came out to the house and picked me up, said he wanted to talk to me. They brought me down here, and I said I had to talk to you.”

  “You did the right thing, Benny. I’ll be right over. Don’t say anything until I’m with you. Do you know what they want to talk to you about?”

  “I—I think it’s something about that dead guy.” Fear tinged Benny’s words.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Lisa hung up the phone. She felt blindsided. Quinn had said nothing about intending to haul her client in for questioning today. She was sure he had known what he was going to do. It was nine o’clock in the morning; his deputies had obviously gone to Benny’s first thing today.

  Setting her jaw, she picked up the jacket to her suit and put it on, grabbed her briefcase and purse and headed out the door. “I’m going to the county courthouse,” she told Kiki grimly on her way out.

  Anger and hurt sped her on her way to Angel Eye. Quinn had intentionally not told her about this; he wanted to spring it on Benny, probably hoping that Benny would not have the presence of mind to ask for his attorney. Of course, Quinn had no obligation to tell her, but still, she could not help but feel as if she had been tricked. He was playing cop games, she thought, and that thought led inevitably to the question of what other games he was playing.

  However, she knew that she could not afford to let personal feelings enter into the interview before her. She was Benny’s attorney; she had to represent him to the best of her ability, and that meant not letting her personal feelings interfere. She must be cool and calm and logical. If she let emotions into this, she would be giving Quinn an advantage.

  By the time she reached the county courthouse, she had talked herself into at least the appearance of a businesslike calm. She strode into the courthouse and down the hall to the sheriff’s office. A deputy jumped up from his desk when she entered and escorted her down the hall to a small windowless room where Quinn and her client sat across a small table from each other. Quinn was steadily watching Benny. Benny had his eyes turned down to his hands, clenched tightly together in his lap.

  “Hello, Benny,” Lisa said, adding with a polite nod, “Sheriff.”

  “Ms. Mendoza.” Quinn rose to his feet, unsmiling, but there was an unmistakable warmth to his eyes.

  Lisa shifted her gaze away from him and sat down beside her client. “All right, Sheriff, what is this about?”

  “I had a few questions I wanted to ask Benny.”

  “What questions?”

  “I think he can help me identify a body.”

  Quinn reached over to a manila file folder on the table beside him and flipped it open. He took out a black-and-white picture from the file and slid it casually across the table to Benny.

  “You know this man, Benny?”

  Benny’s eyes went down to the photo, and he paled. Lisa, looking over at the photograph, saw that it showed a corpse on a metal table, a sheet covering it below the shoulders. Benny shook his head rapidly. “No. I don’t know him. Who is this guy?”

  “Look carefully, Benny.” Quinn flopped down another photo, this one closer to the corpse’s face. It was coldly gruesome, and Lisa swallowed back bile.

  “What is the purpose of this, Sheriff?” she asked with more poise than she felt. “My client has already told you that he does not recognize the man. May we leave now?”

  Quinn ignored her words, pulling out another picture and showing it to Benny. This time it was of the same corpse, clothed and lying in a field. It was, if anything, even worse.

  “No, man!” Benny said faintly, his skin taking on a sallow, almost green tint. “I never seen him before.”

  “Are you sure?” Quinn did not remove the pictures. Benny kept his eyes carefully turned toward the table beside them. “We found this guy in a field last weekend. I think he may have something to do with your friends.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do. This man had no identification on him. Obviously Hispanic. I’m thinking he’s an illegal alien.”

  “So?” Benny asked, crossing his arms across his chest and turning his eyes back to Quinn defiantly.

  “So I’m thinking he’s one of the illegals that you and your friends have been bringing into the country. Maybe even one you brought in yourself.”

  Benny said nothing. After a moment, Quinn went on, “What do you do over in old man Rodriguez’s house? Do you put the illegals up there for a while, or do you just switch drivers there? You know, at first I
figured it for a car-theft ring, but it’s a lot more than that, isn’t it? You guys aren’t chopping cars. You’re trafficking in human beings.”

  Benny’s nostrils flared, and he opened his mouth.

  Lisa quickly interjected, “You don’t need to answer him, Benny.” She turned toward Quinn. “My client has answered your questions. He cannot identify these pictures. You have no further reason to hold him or question him.”

  “Oh, I think I do.” Quinn kept his eyes on Benny as he spoke, flat and cold. He seemed an entirely different person from the man Lisa knew, and she found it chilling. “Benny knows what I’m talking about, don’t you, Ben? You quit your job several months ago, but somehow or other, you’ve got more money than you did back when you were working. You’re buying clothes, stereo equipment. That’s what your grandmother tells me. She’s worried about you, son. She’s afraid you’re going to follow in your father’s footsteps and wind up in Huntsville.”

  “He’s not my father!”

  “No, that’s right. He’s your stepfather. But you’re looking a lot like him right now.”

  Benny’s lips curved in a sneer. Lisa was poised, ready to jump in if he started to speak, but he kept quiet.

  “You’ve always been a pretty good kid, Benny,” Quinn said now, his voice softening. “A few minor scrapes—lots of kids get into a little trouble like that. But smuggling in illegal aliens, that’s not a little scrape. That’s big.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe you think you’re doing a good thing, helping out some poor people who just want a chance to work and live in this country. But it didn’t turn out too good for this guy, did it?”

  His tone hardened and he tapped the photo in front of Benny. “It turns out like this for lots of them. Do you have any idea how many people die in the desert after they cross the border? Abandoned by the people they trusted to guide them? Or stuffed into a closed, broiling-hot truck in the summer?”