“Dagnabbit,” Shorty had muttered. “You just ruined my new shirt.”
“It ain’t my fault,” Will Sr. had sputtered. “It’s this stuff. Just what the hell is this?”
And if he had to ask, he certainly wasn’t Hunter’s guy.
“I didn’t say it was him,” Gator told Hunter when he punched in the bootlegger’s cell number. “I just said that one of my contacts heard his name tossed around.”
“Your contact is full of shit. I even checked out the son. His record’s clean. Not even a traffic violation.”
“Maybe he’s just smart.”
“And maybe your contacts are for shit.”
“That’s possible, too, but they’re all I’ve got right now. Check out the other names that were given to me and see if anything shakes out.”
Two more dead-end possibilities and Hunter was even more anxious than when he’d started out a few hours ago.
“Sheriff? You done?” Marge asked again.
But Hunter was never done. The job pulled at him twenty-four/seven.
Thankfully, he reminded himself. He didn’t need the downtime to sit around and think.
Regret.
He stiffened against the notion. “I still need to follow up on a few things. I’ll be on my radio. Call if you need me.”
A few minutes later, he climbed into the beige SUV, tugged at the top button on his shirt, and drew a deep breath. While he’d grown accustomed to the uniform, it still bothered him every once in a while. Especially when the weather started heating up and … there.
He popped the last button and slid off the shirt until he wore only the white T-shirt beneath. Tossing the stifling beige to the seat, he keyed the ignition and headed for the run-down farmhouse that sat outside of town.
He couldn’t very well hit the local honky-tonk and pick a fight to burn off some steam. Or pick out a woman to burn up the sheets. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.
But kissing Jenna Tucker again in the privacy of her own home? Away from prying eyes and the gossips who had fed off his antics so long ago?
While it wasn’t the best choice, suddenly it seemed like the only one if he meant to hold onto his sanity and his control for the time being. Forget simply delivering a door and doing his civic duty. Another kiss might make him forget the first and that would be a good thing, right?
Damn straight it would.
Damn straight.
* * *
He was kissing her again.
There’d been no casual conversation. No easing into the moment. Just a knock on the door and bam, he was here. Now.
Kissing her.
Uh-oh.
Hunter’s strong, purposeful mouth moved over hers as he backed her into the hallway and kicked the front door shut with his boot. His tongue swept her bottom lip, licking and nibbling and coaxing and …
Wait a second. Wait just a freakin’ second. This shouldn’t be happening. Not here. Not with him. Especially not him.
Just as the denial registered in her shocked brain, he deepened the kiss.
His tongue pushed inside, to tease and taunt and tangle with hers. All reasoning faded into a whirlwind of hunger that swirled through her like a tornado ripping through West Texas. Her heart started to thunder. Her adrenaline started to pump. Her nerves started to spin.
She trembled and her stomach hollowed out.
Before she could stop herself, she leaned into him, melting from the sudden rise in body temperature. Her hand slid up his chest and her fingers caught the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
His arms closed around her. Strong hands pressed against the base of her spine, drawing her closer. She met him chest for chest, hip for hip, until she felt every incredible inch of him flush against her body—the hard planes of his chest, the solid muscles of his thighs, the growing erection beneath his zipper.
Uh-oh.
The warning sounded in her head, but damned if it didn’t make her that much more excited. Heat spread from her cheeks, creeping south. The slow burn traveled inch by sweet, tantalizing inch, until her nipples throbbed and wetness flooded between her thighs.
And all because of a kiss.
Because of his kiss.
But Hunter DeMassi wasn’t wild and careless and completely inappropriate. He was the town’s sheriff, for heaven’s sake, and damned if she didn’t want him—really want him—anyway.
It was the moment she’d been waiting for. The mild-mannered guy she’d been searching for.
That’s what her head said. But her instincts told her he was far too dangerous to be the right man.
To be a good man.
The thought struck and she stiffened. Tearing her lips away, she stumbled backward.
“I … You…” She shook her head and tried to ignore the way her lips tingled. “You and I…” She shook her head again. “I don’t think we should be doing this.”
“We shouldn’t.” He said the words, but the strange flicker in his gaze didn’t mirror the sentiment. “But I want to, anyway, and damned if I can help myself.”
“But I’m not like that anymore. I don’t sleep around.”
“Trust me. There won’t be any sleeping involved.” His gaze darkened as it touched her mouth and she felt the overwhelming chemistry that pulsed between them. “Not a single second.”
Oh, boy.
She forced an easy breath, wishing with all her being that her lips would stop trembling. They didn’t any more than her heart slowed its frantic pace. Still, she had to get it together. To think. Talk.
Another deep breath and she gathered her resolve. “Listen, I know I might have given you the wrong impression last night,” she tried again. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. That was a mistake. And this is a mistake. You should go,” she went on, desperate to kill the tiny hope that he would pull her close, kill her stupid resolve, and kiss her again.
Lust.
That’s all this was.
That, and deprivation.
She’d been walking the straight and narrow for so long that it made sense that she would blow at the first sign of temptation.
But he shouldn’t be tempting her in his beige pants and simple white T-shirt. There was nothing remotely sexy about his getup, and yet there was just something about the way his shirt clung to his broad shoulders and accented his thick biceps. A five o’clock shadow covered his jaw and his hair looked as if he’d raked a hand through it one too many times.
He didn’t look nearly as put together as he usually did. Instead, he looked as if he was unraveling, shedding his buttoned-up image.
Cutting loose.
It only stood to reason that her starving hormones would shift into overdrive at the notion.
“I can’t just go around hopping into bed with every man who propositions me. I mean, yes, I liked the kiss, but that’s beside the point. We’re all wrong for each other.”
“You say that like it matters.”
“It does.”
A grin tugged at the corner of his sensuous lips. “I don’t want to date you, Jenna.” His gaze collided with hers. “I want to have sex with you.”
She wasn’t sure why his words sent a wave of disappointment through her. It’s not like she wanted to date him.
She had a slew of dates behind her with guys just like him and they’d all been a waste of her time.
She needed to focus. To get back to work.
Her gaze went to the boxes stacked nearby. “This isn’t right.”
“Tell me about it.” His deep voice drew her attention and she saw the battle in his gaze. A tug-of-war that mirrored her own. The realization sent a ripple of camaraderie through her, followed by a wave of disappointment.
“I know I’m not exactly your type,” she heard herself say.
“No, you’re not,” he agreed much too quickly.
“If that’s the case, then what’s this all about?”
“It’s about the fact that I can’t stop thinking about you and I ne
ed to.”
He was saying everything she was thinking, and damned if it didn’t bother her. It was as if he stared past the excuses, straight into the heart of things.
Of her.
“I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now and this, whatever this is, is not a good idea.” At least that’s what she was frantically telling herself. “You should just go.” Before he could respond, she scooted past him and hauled open the front door. “Now. Please,” she added, the plea little more than a desperate whisper.
He didn’t look as if he meant to oblige. The seconds ticked by while a war waged inside of her between her hormones and her common sense. She wanted to grab him and never let go almost as much as she wanted to kick him out the door.
Because as much as Hunter looked and acted like the calm, reputable, tame sheriff, he still called to the bad girl inside of her. There was just something about him … Something wild and untamed that made her want to forget her vow to walk the straight and narrow. Forget her hopes and dreams.
Herself.
* * *
“You’re right,” he said abruptly, as if he’d just waged his own war and reason had emerged the victor.
Damn reason.
She smothered the last thought and managed a quick “Thanks for stopping by,” before closing the door behind him.
And then she headed back to the bedroom.
To the stack of letters and the blossoming story of Clara Bell and her secret baby, and the one remaining cupcake. While chocolate was a poor substitute for sex, it was all she had at the moment.
That, and the letters.
CHAPTER 16
“It’s about damn time.” Clara Bell Sawyer took the white bakery bag that Hunter handed her and pulled out the jumbo peanut butter cookie he’d picked up at Sweet Somethings Bakery on his way over. “What’s this?” She gave the cookie a sniff. “You know I hate peanuts.”
“That’s because the cookie isn’t for you. It’s for your friend. The one interested in your fella.” He winked. “I figured you could kill her with kindness.”
“I’d rather do it with a slingshot.” She set the bag to the side and held up her arms. “Come on and give your old Mimi some sugar. The good kind. Not this processed stuff.”
He hugged the frail old woman and ignored the sudden tightening in his chest. Her hugs had always been so strong and solid, but now she was just a slip of the woman she’d once been. Her arms barely tightened and then she was shrinking away, back into the wheelchair. He noted the hollows beneath her eyes a split second before her face crinkled into a smile. “Sit down and tell me all about your week.”
“You mean fill you in on all the gossip?”
She shrugged. “An old woman needs some excitement in her life.”
“I take it you haven’t been sweet-talking the guy with the teeth.”
“Oh, I’ve been talking. It just turns out that he has a hearing aid which none of us knew about. He’s been tuning out everyone except Louise Aldridge Tucker. Seems he’s sweet on her. Can’t say as I blame him. She’s got all of her teeth and she can still eat a chili dog.”
“Sounds like quite a catch.”
“If you’re into chili dogs. But it’s better this way I s’pose. Now I can turn my attention to finding someone who won’t aggravate my gastroenteritis every time we make out.”
A grin tugged at his lips. He wanted to reach out and tell her there were plenty more fish in the sea, but she was stuck in a very small pond, so he decided to distract her instead.
That and this was his great-grandmother. The last thing he wanted was to be giving her advice on her love life.
Instead he spent the next half hour telling her about the various happenings around town, complete with Gerald and Haywood’s latest disagreement and the big toe incident.
Disappointment crinkled her worn face. “Are you shitting me?”
“Jesus, Mimi.” He glanced around at the old women clustered nearby, all hunched over their needlepoint. “Language.”
“Trust me. There’s nothing I can say that these old biddies haven’t heard before even if they won’t admit it. His big toe? That’s it? ’Cause Merline Evangeline said that Haywood blew Gerald’s arm off and then went after him Bobbitt style with his pocketknife.”
“He’s still got both arms and I’m sure he and Lorelei can repopulate if the mood strikes them.”
She made a pshhh sound. “The old fools around here. Why, none of ’em could keep a story straight if their lives depended on it.”
“Hazards of a small town.” He repeated Jenna’s words and tried to ignore the image that rushed at him. Of Jenna arched against the wall, her lips parted and full, her breaths coming fast and furious as she stared up at him with passion-glazed eyes.
She wanted him but she didn’t want to want him, and damned if that didn’t bother him.
It’s for the best, a voice whispered. If she hadn’t put the brakes on, he might not have had the will to do it and then he’d be right where he started.
Back to making poor decisions, acting on impulse, living rather than thinking.
It didn’t matter that she was attempting to change her image. Jenna was still every bit the bad girl he’d given up and he didn’t intend to fall right back into old habits.
He’d promised himself.
He’d promised his Mimi.
“Lookee what we have here,” a familiar voice sounded just as Pam Tucker Laraby walked up. She was in her midthirties with the signature Tucker blond hair and green eyes. She wore the usual pink scrubs with the familiar Royal Rebel Arms logo on the front pocket and a warm smile. A vase filled with gardenias overflowed her arms. “It’s your weekly flower delivery, Miss Clara.”
A smile touched his Mimi’s face as she leaned forward to smell the vase full that Pam set on the table in front of her.
“I don’t know what you did to make a man fall hard enough to send you flowers once a week for practically ever, but if you could share, I’d be eternally grateful.”
“It’s all in the hips,” Mimi said, giving the girl a wink despite the fact that Pam was a hated Tucker.
A fact that should have dug in his Mimi’s craw like it did every other person from her generation. They’d been the ones on the front lines for all the years since the feud began. The ones holding tight to the hate, perpetuating the war.
Everyone except for his Mimi.
She’d never had a bad word to say about the Tuckers. Quite the opposite, she’d always been kind and good to everyone around her, even the Tuckers.
Especially the Tuckers.
He watched as she caught Pam’s hand and held tight for a second. “Put them in my room, will you, sugar?”
“Sure thing,” Pam murmured before giving Hunter a nod and turning to head down the hall.
“So who’s the secret admirer?” He asked the same question every week when the flowers arrived. As usual, she waved him off the way she always did.
“It’s no secret. Jimmy over at the florist knows I like gardenias, that’s all. He used to order extra and send them to his mother. Now that she’s gone, he sends them to me. So where were we? Oh, yeah. Gerald and his missing penis.”
“I already told you. Haywood didn’t cut anything off.”
“No, but he wanted to and that’s enough to fuel the gossip here for at least another week until you get back over here to set me straight on the comings and goings of this boring-as-hell town.” She grinned and a devilish light touched her eyes. “Any streakers this week?”
“That was last month and it was only because Cory Wellborn got locked out of his house while picking up the newspaper.”
“I heard he mooned the paperboy.”
“Not intentionally. He was picking up the sports section.”
“In his birthday suit.”
Hunter shrugged. “A man can do what he wants in his own house.”
“Until his wife locks him out because he f
orgot to take out the garbage and she wants to teach him a lesson. Then it becomes your problem.”
“There was no problem. He called it in himself—thankfully he’d left his cell phone in his car. He hid in the front seat until we got there with a blanket. No streaking.”
“Except that Isabel Jeffries saw him from across the street and told her mother who runs the bunko table here on Wednesday nights. She told all of us and gave us quite the description. You wouldn’t happen to have any pictures?” She wiggled her silver eyebrows. “You know, some leftover evidence so I can see if my mental image is close to the real thing?”
“You are ninety-two, right? Because you act like you just hit puberty.” She chuckled and he added, “You ought to behave yourself.”
“There’s plenty of time for that when they put me in the grave.” She grabbed the bakery bag and glanced inside. “Kindness, huh?”
“I’m sure if you talk to her woman-to-woman and explain that you’re interested in this Paul whatshisname, she’ll respect that.”
“Or she might keel over, straight into a sugar coma. She’s diabetic, too, you know.”
He didn’t or he never would have brought her a cookie. “Maybe I ought to take that back…”
“Keep your paws off. I’ve got plans for this cookie.” She stuffed it down beside her and motioned for Pam who had returned to the common area and was straightening magazines on a nearby rack. “Can you be a dear and help me back to my room?”
“I can do it—” Hunter started, but Mimi waved him silent.
“I won’t have you fussing over me. I’m not an invalid. I can damn well do it myself.”
Only she couldn’t. He watched as she tried to undo the brakes on her chair, but her strength was failing her and it was Pam who finally hit the lever.
He noted the hollows beneath her eyes then as if she wasn’t sleeping as well as she usually did and something twisted inside of him. “Hey.” He caught her hand. “Are you okay?”
A strange gleam lit her gaze and she opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but then her lips pursed and she shook her head.
“I’m as mean as ever and twice as spry,” she snapped, “and don’t you forget it.” He grinned then and she waved him off. “Go out and have some fun once in a while. You look old.”
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