When Sloan arrived at precisely six-thirty, she was glad she’d gone to a little extra effort. Instead of his usual jeans, he wore navy-blue trousers with a creamy-hued pullover. He looked even more incredibly handsome than usual, and he looked at her as if she’d accomplished Winona’s recommendation and made herself beautiful.
Had James ever looked at her that way? Maybe the day he’d found out her godfather was a fishing buddy to the current governor, whose support he would need if he was going to hold that office according to the schedule by which he lived his life.
Was that before or after he proposed to her? At the moment, she couldn’t recall.
They said their goodbyes, settled in the truck and headed back toward town. Before they’d gone a mile, Crystal asked, “Who are these friends we’re having dinner with?”
“Rafe and Raeanne Rawlings. She’s a public defender in town.”
“So she tries to keep out of jail the people you try to send there. Interesting. What does he do?”
“He, uh, he’s the sheriff.”
The sheriff. She twisted the gold ring around her finger. She’d told him she didn’t like cops, deputies or prosecutors, so what was his plan for their first date? Dinner with the sheriff. “You like to live dangerously, don’t you?”
He flashed her a charming grin. “You’ll like Rafe, honest.”
“And if I like him, then I might have to admit that my prejudice against cops is unfounded, right?”
“Well, the thought never occurred to me, but now that you mention it…”
She gave an amused shake of her head. “You’re a lousy liar, Ravencrest.”
“That’s because I’ve never had much practice at it.” He reached across the console to claim her hand, settling it on his thigh, settling his own hand over it. “Keep that in mind.”
She thought the gesture a little too intimate for a first date, and wondered if he might hope to get a lot more intimate before the night was over. She doubted it, though. He’d made it clear that he wanted more than sex, and she was fairly sure that was all she was offering. Maybe someday down the line, when she knew him better, when he’d proven himself, she could give him the trust he wanted. But someday could be a long time coming, and he very well might decide that she wasn’t worth the wait.
A sudden surge of anger welled inside her. Damn James for making her so fearful because she didn’t measure up to his ridiculous standards. Damn her parents for failing to give her the things every child deserved—confidence, courage and the certainty that she was loved. And damn fate for bringing a man like Sloan Ravencrest into her life when she was least capable of doing something about it.
There was a time—before James—when she would have grabbed hold of him with both hands and never let go. He knew her worst secret and wanted her anyway. What more could a woman like her want?
Now she was afraid to trust. Afraid of being used, hurt, betrayed. Afraid that she would always be afraid. She didn’t know if she had the strength to put her past behind her, or the courage to face her future, and she couldn’t even begin to guess whether Sloan had the patience to help her.
“You’ve gotten awfully quiet—and tense.” He rubbed his hand back and forth over hers, uncurling her fingers and flattening them once again against his leg. “Are you worried about meeting Rafe and Raeanne? ‘Cause you don’t need to be. They’ll like you.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because I like you. That’ll be enough for them.”
She took a few deep breaths, pushed the anger and frustration to the back of her mind and deliberately refocused her attention. “You must be good friends.”
“We are. Rafe’s part of the reason I’m working for the sheriff’s department.”
“He recruited you?”
“Nope. I’ve known him all my life. He was abandoned as a baby by his white mother, too, but not with his family. She left him in the woods to die.”
Crystal was appalled. If she were fortunate enough to have a baby, she would love him, treasure him, sacrifice her life for him if necessary, no matter what she felt for the father. But these two women had had no problem turning their backs and walking away from their babies. It was so cold, and so sad.
“Fortunately, he was found and adopted by the Rawlings family. They live near my dad, so Rafe was kind of a big brother growing up. Whatever he did, I wanted to do, too. I hadn’t outgrown it by the time he went to work for the sheriff’s department. I was in college and not too happy there, so I figured why not give the sheriff’s department a try. Luckily, I like the job, and I’m good at it. I’m not as ambitious as Rafe, though. I have no desire to take on the headaches of running the department. I like being a field deputy.”
“What did your father think about you becoming a deputy?”
He gave her a puzzled glance. “I don’t know that he thought anything. He told me to be careful, to always wear my bulletproof vest and to give it my best.”
The smile reflected back at her in the window was humorless. “My parents knew before I was born what private school I would go to, what college I would attend and what degree I would earn, and they had my job lined up for me before the ink on my diploma was dry.”
“And what if you didn’t want to go to that college or accept that job?”
“What I wanted didn’t matter. It’s never mattered.”
He pulled into a driveway behind a black-and-white sheriff’s vehicle and shut off the engine, then turned to look at her. “Until now. Now you don’t have to please anyone but yourself. You don’t have to be anyone but yourself. And if you think about it, Crystal—” he left the sentence hanging while he got out, then came around the truck to open her door “—James Rich-man and your folks did you and me both a hell of a favor when they got out of your life.”
Six
Before the peal of the doorbell faded away, the door was flung open and four-year-old Skye launched herself into Sloan’s arms. He caught her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a loud, smacking kiss to his cheek. “Hi, Sloan, guess what? Daddy said I could have a puppy!”
“I said we would talk about it,” her father corrected from around the corner. His interruption left Skye unfazed.
“I’m gonna get a red one, like Grandma’s got. Or maybe a black one. My friend April Ann has a black one, and he’s wiggly and likes to kiss my face.”
“Sounds like you,” Sloan teased, tickling her enough to make her wiggle. “What’re you gonna name him?”
“Not Spot or Red or Blackie. Maybe Harold.”
“Harold?” her mother echoed, also out of sight around the corner.
“Harold’s a good name,” Skye said decisively, then immediately switched her attention to Crystal. “Who’re you?”
“This is Crystal Cobbs,” Sloan introduced her. “Crystal, this is Skye Rawlings.”
Skye grinned, showing dimples. “I’m Sloan’s best girl. Ain’t that right, Sloan?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is.” He gestured for Crystal to go in, then followed her, closing the door. Still clinging to his neck, Skye scampered around so she was hanging on his back. “Hold on, monkey,” he advised, giving her a ride into the kitchen where Rafe and Raeanne were finishing the dinner preparations.
Switching the salad bowl to his other hand, Rafe lifted Skye to the floor, then offered his hand as Sloan performed the introductions. Raeanne left the stove long enough to say hello, then directed them to move on to the dining table so she could serve the meal.
Crystal looked uncomfortably shy as she took the seat across from Rafe and next to Sloan. He’d expected to see the well-bred, poised-in-every-situation Crystal, the gracious, charming, groomed-to-be-the-governor’s-wife Crystal. Some part of him was pleased that she hadn’t made an appearance. That Crystal, he thought, was part phony, with the real woman overshadowed by the Cobbses’ idea of the perfect daughter and Rich-man’s idea of the perfect fiancée.
But her shyness this evening was ge
nuine. Endearing. Sweet.
Raeanne brought platters of roast beef, vegetables and hot rolls fresh from the oven before taking her seat beside Rafe. They took a moment for Skye to say the blessing, then the conversation started in earnest.
“Crystal, I understand you’re from Georgia,” Raeanne began. “What part?”
“Boonesville. It’s an hour or so south of Atlanta.”
“And you’ve come to Whitehorn to stay. It must be quite a change. Do you miss Georgia at all?”
“No. I was ready for a change of scenery.”
“What did you do there?”
“I taught third grade at Chatham Preparatory Academy.”
“Sounds like a very exclusive place. Are you interested in teaching here?”
A cautious look came into Crystal’s eyes, and she suddenly found the food on her plate worthy of closer attention. “No. It wasn’t the job for me.”
Sloan wondered who’d made that decision—Crystal or someone else? He could easily imagine her as a natural in the classroom, surrounded by kids who called her Miss Crystal and clamored for her attention. They all would have adored her, and probably at least one would have wished she was his mother and not his teacher, because then he wouldn’t be hurt, ignored, abused or abandoned.
Raeanne was in the process of asking yet another question when Rafe stopped her. “Sweetheart, you invited her for dinner, not for interrogation. Let her enjoy her meal, and maybe you can grill her again over dessert.”
“I’m not—” Raeanne’s denial ended midsentence. Sheepishly she smiled. “You’re right. Sorry, Crystal. I spend so much time questioning people that sometimes I forget how to carry on a normal conversation.”
“It’s an occupational hazard,” Crystal said with a shrug as if she hadn’t minded. “I used to go home from school and talk to people as if they were eight years old.”
One of those people being James, Sloan thought with a scowl, who’d treated her with all the maturity and sensitivity of an eight-year-old.
By the time the evening ended, Crystal’s wariness had disappeared. She was fairly friendly with Raeanne, even making plans to meet for lunch the next week, and she seemed to like Rafe, too. Sloan would call the evening a success…though, of course, the good-night kiss was yet to come.
On the drive back to Winona’s, he casually asked, “Is the Chatham Preparatory Academy as snooty as it sounds?”
“Snootier. And, yes, I’m a Chatham grad.”
“Did you really discover that teaching wasn’t right for you, or was that decision somehow connected to your breakup with James?”
She was quiet for so long that he thought she’d decided she had answered enough questions for one evening. Then, with a sigh, she replied, “James was a powerful man from a powerful family. People had no choice but to take sides.”
No choice but to take his side. That was what she meant. “So because James decided not to marry you, your snooty prep school could no longer employ you?”
“More or less.”
“Why didn’t you sue them for wrongful termination?”
“I couldn’t win. The best thing for me to do was accept it quietly and get out of Boonesville.”
“So you ran away. And you’re still running.”
“No.” She looked at him, her gaze direct and steady. “If I were still running, I wouldn’t be with you this evening.”
With you. He liked the idea of Crystal being with him, and not just for the evening. For all time. Physically, emotionally, socially, legally, spiritually—in every way two people could possibly be.
But he didn’t say so. Instead he kept to the subject. “I bet your students loved you.”
“They did. Almost as much as Skye loves you. You’re very good with her.”
The simple remark pleased him. “I have a kid brother about her age. In another five years or so, I hope to have a kid of my own about her age.”
“You planning to get married?”
“You bet.”
“Picked someone out already?”
If he told her the truth, she would probably panic and retreat into her shell and he would never coax her out again. Instead he shrugged. “I’m counting on fate to do that.”
She turned away again to look out the side window. “Then I hope fate is kinder to you than it’s been to me.”
“I don’t know. Fate saved you from marrying James Richman. You never would have been happy with him.”
“And how do you figure that?”
“Because you’re not the perfect-wife, perfect-hostess, perfect-helpmate type. You’re a real person who needs a real life, not some phony, socially correct, public-eye political existence.”
“You’re wrong. I loved James.”
“Did you? Or did you love the idea of finally doing something that made your parents proud? I bet they picked him out for you, didn’t they? Just like they picked out your college and your career and your job.”
She turned so that all he could see was the black of her coat and her hair. All he could feel was the iciness radiating from her. He’d made her angry—again. But that was all right. Being angry was better than being hurt, and she’d spent too damn much of her life hurting.
“There’s one other thing,” he said as if she hadn’t shut him out. “If you had really, truly loved James, the way you’re capable of loving, you never could have kissed me like you did the other night.”
She gave no sign of hearing him.
So much for tonight’s kiss, he thought regretfully as the silence between them grew. He doubted she would even let him bring the truck to a stop at Winona’s before she jumped out and stalked off into the house, locking him out. But he would make up for it with two next time—and there would be a next time. He was nothing if not an optimistic fool.
But she surprised him. When he parked in the Stop-n-Swap lot next to Winona’s old truck, she didn’t flee. After taking off her seat belt, she slowly turned to face him. “You are so damn smug.”
He certainly didn’t feel it as he searched her face in the dim illumination provided by the parking lot lights for some clue to her mood. He couldn’t find any.
“Yes, my parents picked James out. They got together with his parents and hatched this plan, and we thought how lucky everyone was that we fell in love with each other in spite of them. And, yes, I was incredibly happy to finally be doing something right for once, something normal that pleased my parents. For the first time in my life, they weren’t wishing they had any other daughter in the world but me. For the first time, they were proud of me. And for the record, I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me.”
He gave a silent sigh of relief before gently teasing her. “Ah, but you kissed me back.” Reaching across the cab, he brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “When you’re ready, when you trust me as well as want me, I will be more than happy to do anything you want.”
For a long time she simply gazed at him, managing to look confused and hopeful, fearful and aroused, curious and thoughtful and tempted, all at the same time. Then she caught his hand and brushed the faintest of kisses to it before twining her fingers through his. “I had a really nice time.”
“We’ll do it again.”
“I’d like that.”
“How about tomorrow? Riding horses at my dad’s and dinner with my family?”
“I have to work tomorrow. Aunt Winona’s going to an estate sale in Billings. I’ll be minding the store.”
“Maybe next weekend.”
They fell silent then, just looking at each other, until finally she opened the door and slid to the ground. He met her at the front of the truck and walked at her side across the yard and up the steps. At the door, he pulled her into his arms, and she came willingly, accepting his kiss as naturally as if she’d been doing so for years.
It was a slow, lazy, all-the-time-in-the-world kiss. It didn’t matter that it was ten-thirty at night, or that the temperature had slipped into the low twenties, or tha
t she didn’t trust him, or that her past was still between them. Nothing mattered at all, except the two of them and this kiss.
She leaned back against the cold aluminum siding of the trailer, and he followed her, his body instinctively moving to press against hers. Opening his coat, she slid her arms around his middle and clung to him while he explored her mouth, tasting, stroking, filling her, making her tremble.
When he raised his head just an inch to catch his breath, she smiled dreamily, eyes still closed. In the moonlight she looked ethereal, angelic, so incredibly beautiful. “I hear bells…”
“Like a doorbell?” he murmured, brushing kisses to her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead before his words penetrated and she abruptly jerked her head up.
A tap at the door made them both look that way. The curtain over the small rectangular window there was lifted, and inside Winona was grinning ear to ear. She gave them both a wave, then dropped the curtain.
Crystal gave the doorbell an offended look when she moved away from it. “Well, there’s nothing like having an audience, is there?”
“Winona’s had her share of good-night kisses. She’s not surprised.”
“No, I’m sure she’s not. She told me you were one of the best-looking men in the county. And that your smile could be lethal.” Her own smile was pretty damn deadly, teasing and smug and sexy as hell. “And that you’re sweet on me.”
“And here I thought that was our secret…and Rafe and Raeanne’s…and my dad’s…” He punctuated each pause with another kiss, then backed away a few steps. “I’d better head home, and you’d better get inside before you freeze.”
He was at the top of the steps when she called, “Sweet dreams.”
He looked back with a wicked grin. “You’d better believe it, darlin’.”
The noon rush was in full swing at the Hip Hop Café on Tuesday when Crystal arrived in town for her lunch with Raeanne Rawlings. She found a parking space down the street and passed several sheriff’s department vehicles on her walk to the diner. Was one of them Sloan’s? She wasn’t embarrassed to admit that she’d taken a little extra care with her appearance this morning on the chance that she might run into him—though she certainly wouldn’t admit it to him if she did. He was already a bit too sure of her.
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