Own the Night

by Debbi Rawlins

  “Normally, I’m not. But things have been pretty damn weird since I arrived in your little town.” Her eyes lit with surprise and she gave him an unexpectedly sweet smile that made him wish he’d touched her for a different reason. “Oh, we’re going to your house.”

  “I put a few groceries in the fridge earlier.”

  “You went shopping?”

  “I was out at the Rocking P ranch, and Libby Perkins gave me fresh butter and a loaf of bread she’d just pulled out of the oven. So I stopped at the Food Mart for some deli meat.”

  “She made bread?”

  Noah smiled. “Most people do around here.”

  “I didn’t think I was hungry, but I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Yeah. The smell was killing me all the way back to town.” With a brief nod, he acknowledged Gloria Sealy, who lived two doors down from him and was busy sweeping her pristine front porch. Even from fifty feet away he could feel her curiosity coming in waves. He’d bet that in two minutes she’d be on the phone to Marge, asking about Alana. “What was that back there about you cleaning?”

  “Oh…that.” She sighed. “It needed to be done. Besides, I had no idea what I was really getting into or I would have run the other way. I definitely have to give my housekeeper a raise. Cleaning is— What’s that look for?”

  “Nothing.” Would the woman ever cease to bewilder him? “Nice of you to pitch in.”

  “I’m going to have nightmares for weeks.”

  He grinned. “Couldn’t have been that bad.” They got to his gate and he opened it for her.

  “We’ll see when I wake you up at midnight.” She was trying to keep a straight face, but her lips quirked.

  If this were a minute later, after they’d closed the door behind them, he would’ve kissed her. He might’ve given himself a swift kick afterward, but the desire to feel those soft lips was too powerful to deny.

  She stared into his face, the pulse at her throat beating wildly, as if she could read his every thought. “Then maybe you shouldn’t sleep alone,” he said, and her eyes widened. “Dax can keep you company.”

  “You bastard.” She laughed and shoved his arm. “Ooh, nice.” She fondled his biceps, molding her palm over the bunched muscle. “You must work out.”

  “Uh, I think my neighbor’s watching.”

  “Exactly.” Her mouth curved in a triumphant smile.

  “Okay,” he said, with a drawl that promised retribution. “I’ll remember this.”

  “Bring it on.” She walked ahead of him, exaggerating the sway of her hips, then waiting at the door.

  He laughed to himself. They’d probably just made Gloria’s week. By the time she got on the horn and finished re-creating what she’d witnessed, she’d have him engaged to Alana.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “I left it unlocked.”

  Once they were both inside, Alana went for the bags, but he held them out of her reach.

  She stared at him, first in surprise and then with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Sorry, but I didn’t pick up anything in your size.”

  “No more fooling around in front of the neighbors.”

  “And when we don’t have an audience?” she asked in a low, sultry voice, her chin lifting in challenge.

  He fantasized for a moment about how she’d react if he stripped off her shirt and Levi’s, and showed her exactly what he wanted to do. “Here.” He pushed the bags at her.

  Startled, she hugged them to her chest and regarded him with a disappointed gaze. “Are you ever just Noah and not Sheriff Calder?”

  Damn good question. The best thing about living in Chicago had been the anonymity and having time to himself. But he’d known what to expect by coming back to Montana. The trade-off was being here for his parents. His sisters had done their part while he’d gone off to college and sampled city life. It was his turn.

  “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he said, removing his hat. “Hope you like ham.”

  “Hey, maybe later we can use your handcuffs.”

  He shook his head, tried to block the image of her cuffed to his four-poster bed. “I ought to arrest you for gambling.”

  She grinned. “I have a feeling you’d have to lock up half the population of Blackfoot Falls.”

  More like the entire county. “Mustard or mayo?”

  She let out a frustrated sigh. “Buzzkill.”

  “Mustard it is.”

  “I’ll make my own sandwich,” she said irritably.

  He smiled then, as he watched her kick off her heels, scoop them up and pad down the hall to her room, barely resembling the woman who’d walked into his office only yesterday. Problem was, damned if he wanted it to be Dax who shared her bed tonight.

  9

  IT WAS EARLY, THE SKY STILL dark outside in the dawn hour before the sun rose over Blackfoot Falls. Dead tired, Noah rubbed the rough stubble along his jaw. If he had a brain that was in working order he’d be crawling into bed instead of sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee on a Sunday morning, after working most of the night. He was taking the day off no matter what. God help anyone who tried to haul him out for a nuisance call.

  “You’re home.”

  He looked up at Alana standing in the doorway, her hair tousled, her eyes sleepy. He hadn’t even heard her stir.

  She wore a T-shirt similar to the black one he’d loaned her, except this one was cream-colored, made it only to the tops of her bare thighs, and it was real clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  His cock twitched. So maybe he wasn’t as tired as he thought.

  “Mornin’,” he said, when he figured he’d stared long enough. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

  The sleeves were too long and reached her knuckles. “No, I thought I smelled coffee, but I assumed you had it on a timer.” She bent over and tugged up the white socks sagging around her ankles.

  Her T-shirt slid up, and he couldn’t help but notice her panties were high-cut and pink.

  “I eased up on the amount of coffee. It’s not as strong today.”

  “Your house, your coffee. Make it as strong as you want.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She smiled and grabbed the mug he’d left out for her. “I hope you didn’t just get home.”

  “About half an hour ago.”

  “You’ve been working straight through since nine-thirty?”

  “Yep.”

  Her coffee poured, she sat across from him, her leg bumping his under the table. “Sorry.” She angled away. “Does that happen very often, getting called out at night?”

  “Not really.”

  “I didn’t think anyone was awake that late around here.” She took a sip. “There can’t be much to do other than going to the Watering Hole….” She abruptly lowered her mug, her eyes alarmed. “Was there trouble there?”

  “Not that I heard about. If the boys get a little rowdy, Sadie can handle it.”

  Watching Alana gaze toward the window and push her fingers through her tangled hair, he understood now why he hadn’t gone straight to bed. Fool that he was, he’d wanted to see her when she woke up, when she was still fuzzy-headed and relaxed. Although she wasn’t quite as uptight as he’d first thought. For a woman who’d lost all her things, she was rolling with the punches pretty smoothly.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He knew better than to cross professional lines. Yet he sure hadn’t done a good job of hiding his attraction to her, and damned if she wasn’t doing her best to tempt him.

  He told himself he wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t look there, and then immediately lowered his gaze to her chest. Her nipples pressed against the cotton, which was thin enough that he could see they were a dusky color. She bumped his leg again, and he snapped out of his daydream of pulling up that shirt and having a taste.

  “Want more coffee?” she asked, pushing back from the table.

  Man, he couldn’t get up, not in his condition. “Thanks,” he said, and passed her his mug.

  “Can y
ou tell me what the emergency was?”

  “What emergency?” He twisted around and watched her lean a hip against the counter as she picked up the carafe.

  “Last night.”

  “Oh, that… No big deal.”

  “No big deal,” she echoed, turning to stare at him, confusion in her eyes and maybe even a little hurt. “You were gone eight hours.”

  Ah, now he understood. She thought he’d stayed away on purpose. “We had a couple of saddles go missing, but I expect they’re gonna turn up.”

  “Another theft?”

  “Maybe. Probably not. There’s some history behind the saddles, and I’m pretty sure they were borrowed without permission.”

  Alana nodded, but he wasn’t sure she believed him. He wasn’t sure he’d told her the whole truth.

  “Then we got a call about a missing husband. He told his wife he was rounding up strays, and when he didn’t come home after dark and wasn’t answering his cell, she called and asked if I’d go check on him. Turns out he’d gone to Kalispell with a couple of buddies, got drunk and passed out.”

  Alana blinked. “What an ass. His poor wife—she had to be worried sick.”

  “Worried, and madder than a wet hen when she found out where he’d been.” Noah arched his back and stretched his arms over his head, stiff from spending so many hours in his truck looking for the stupid kid. “They’re both young, married only a few months—mainly because Linda is pregnant, I suspect.”

  “Being young is no excuse for being that irresponsible and cruel,” Alana said quietly, and went back to pouring their coffee.

  “I agree. I wasn’t excusing him.” The story had obviously hit a nerve. “A lot can happen to someone riding an ATV alone after dark. I had no choice but to go look for him, so I’m not happy with Brett, either. Not to mention Linda was hysterical and bawling when I hadn’t found him by early morning. She was really laying into him when I left their place an hour ago.”

  “So you haven’t slept.” Alana set his coffee in front of him, and startled him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “Not yet.”

  “I hope you don’t have to work today.”

  His heart slammed in his chest with her this close. He wanted to pull her onto his lap, bury his face between her breasts. Take her to bed with him. She removed the temptation by withdrawing her hand and reclaiming her chair.

  He pretended to fight a yawn just in case his voice failed him. “Roy’s on duty. He likes working Sundays so he doesn’t have to go to his in-laws’ for dinner.”

  She smiled. “Nice to know everyone is so happily married around here.” Wrapping her hands around her mug, Alana gave him a long, measuring look. “You seem tired. You should take a nap.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I don’t know. I read until after midnight. Maybe I’ll get a couple hours more sleep myself.”

  There was a long, charged silence while they sat there staring at each other. Teasing aside, Noah had a feeling if he asked her to join him in his bed she’d readily agree. All the years he’d been sheriff, he’d never been in this position with a woman. Lines had always been drawn and clear. This situation with Alana was blurry as hell, although he couldn’t say why, since technically she wasn’t a suspect. He was just helping her out. So why hadn’t he called Rachel and asked her to make room at the Sundance? He had no right to keep that option from Alana.

  “I’m not used to coming home and having someone here,” he said finally.

  Her lips parted and she scrambled to her feet. “You were trying to unwind, and I just barged in on you.”

  “No, don’t go.” He’d really stepped in it. “I don’t mind you being here.” She seemed unconvinced and ready to leave. “It’s kind of nice. Dax never asks me how my night was.”

  Her slight smile indicated she thought he was just being polite. “Where is he, anyway?”

  “I let him out when I got home. Hasn’t come back yet.”

  She walked toward the window and looked outside. The sun hadn’t risen, so she couldn’t see much. He had a feeling he’d made her uncomfortable, and he was sorry about that. But he didn’t want her to go.

  “When did you learn to play pool?”

  “In college.” She turned around in surprise. “Where did that come from?”

  “I was going to ask you last night before I got called back to work.”

  “We had a table in the basement at my sorority house. A friend taught me to play, and I used it as a stress reliever.” Alana’s mouth twisted wryly. “Which meant I played almost every evening. Anyway, turned out I was really good, and I like winning.”

  He reared his head back. “I never would’ve guessed pool would be your thing.”

  She sniffed. “Nothing wrong with that. Do you play?”

  He was waiting for that question. “I used to. Not much anymore.”

  “Are you any good?”

  “Do you mean good enough to go up against you?” he asked, and saw the spark of challenge ignite in her eyes. “I don’t know. I didn’t see you play.”

  “Are you better than Sam and Hector?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  She came back to the table. This time when their legs touched, she didn’t move hers. She leaned forward, the T-shirt stretching snugly across her breasts. “Play me.”

  “Where?”

  She frowned. “The Watering Hole, I guess.”

  “No, the Sundance. The McAllisters have a pool table.”

  Alana leaned back and studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why there?”

  “More privacy.”

  She laughed. “In case you get beaten by a girl?”

  He shook his head, even though she was half-right. “I have to be careful. I don’t like drinking in public and just hanging out, even when I’m off duty.”

  “I get it. You want to protect your image.” She grinned. “And not let everyone see you get beaten by a girl.”

  “You’re pretty damn cocky,” he said, aware of his own competitive instincts rising to the surface. “Hey, keep it up. Be smug. It’ll work in my favor.”

  “Think so?” She was really looking full of herself now. “We should play for something.” Her nonchalant shrug didn’t fool him. “A small friendly wager.”

  “Around here, when people get serious, they play for money or pink slips. You don’t have either.”

  “Hmm. No, I don’t….” She paused, working up to the kill and looking so cocksure it irritated him.

  He motioned with his chin. “I’d settle for winning those pink panties off you.”

  She blinked and her mouth dropped open, the smugness wiped from her face. For a minute she seemed to struggle for words, and then a wicked smile slowly lifted her lips. “You want them that badly? I’ll give them to you right now.” She reached under the hem of her shirt, then shifted in her seat as if she was actually pulling them off.

  Damn, he couldn’t tell if she was bluffing. She had to be bluffing. Then again, she was constantly surprising him. Only one way to find out, and he’d always been good at playing chicken. He watched and waited.

  While he willed his excited cock to friggin’ settle down.

  Their gazes met and held, and when it became obvious she was taking too long to be doing the deed, he did everything in his power to tamp down a smile. One hint that he was feeling victorious, and she’d show him.

  Wait a minute…what the devil was wrong with him? Did he really want to win this round? Or did he want to force her hand?

  Noah grinned for all he was worth.

  She frowned slightly, her worried gaze slowly moving over his face. “You’re playing me….” she murmured. “Aren’t you?”

  “Me?” he asked with his best poker face.

  She bit her lower lip, then reached under the table. “Here you go.” She threw the pink panties at him.

  He caught them against his chest, the silky feel of them soft under his palm. Yet not a
n expensive texture he’d expected from her. He held them out, then laughed at the cursive “Sunday” across the back. “Abe’s Variety?”

  She exhaled sharply. “I give a man my panties…I don’t expect him to laugh.”

  Noah balled the fabric in his hand. They were so skimpy they fit in his fist. “What do you expect?”

  She actually blushed. “You practically dared me to take them off,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “I don’t like to be dared.”

  “Good to know.” And man, did he mean that. He pushed himself back from the table and saw her swallow convulsively. Though he had her cornered, he wouldn’t gloat. Not so much because he was trying to be a gentleman, but if he gave her reason to sharpen those claws, she’d recover too quickly. He liked seeing her off balance and uncertain.

  She barely moved, just followed him with her eyes. “Are you going to lie down?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You realize you have to be the one to leave the kitchen first,” she said, tracking his path to the back door.

  “Why?” He checked for Dax. No sign of him.

  “You know why.”

  “Nope. Can’t say that I do.”

  “Then give those back,” she said, holding out her hand.

  He came back, caught her wrist and pulled her to her feet, ignoring her startled yelp. “You want them?”

  Without the high heels, she was a good eight inches shorter than him and had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. She lifted her chin, drawing herself as tall as she could. “Besides pool, the other thing I did to relieve stress was kickboxing.”

  He pulled her closer. “Wearing no panties? That could be interesting.”

  She huffed out a laugh, her expression tinged with excitement. “This isn’t very sheriffy of you.”

  “Where did you go to school?”

  “Yale.”

  He should’ve known she was an Ivy Leaguer. “They teach you words like sheriffy?”

  Alana bit her lip. “Come on, Noah, fair is fair.” She suddenly sounded businesslike, even as she twisted her wrist free and slid her arms around him. “Boxers or briefs?” she asked, and ran her hands over his ass. “Or do I have to find out for myself?”