Slow Hand Luke
Debbi Rawlins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Coming Next Month

1

A NOTHER SUNNY SPRING day in Brooklyn. The punks would be out in full force. Annie Corrigan sighed as she stared out the small square window from the office she shared with three other cops. One more report to write and then she’d be out there, arguing with her partner over their cruiser’s temperature controls.

Her phone rang and she had to stifle a yawn before answering. “Sergeant Corrigan.”

“Hey, baby, it’s me.”

She closed her eyes, her chest tightening. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to speak to—”

“Don’t tell me.” Her voice started to rise and she quickly lowered it. “You’ve been arrested again.”

“Look, Annie, I was going to call you last week, maybe buy you some dinner, but I got busy. You know how it is.”

Nothing changed. Nothing ever changed. Did he really expect her to believe more of his lies? “I told you not to call me at work.”

“See, the thing is, baby, I did get in a small scrape. But I swear to you, this time it wasn’t my fault.”

She shook her head. It never was. “I have to go.”

“Come on, baby, you aren’t going to leave me locked up for the weekend.”

“See you around, Pop,” she said, and hung up.

She stared at the phone for a long time, anger and resentment burning in her gut. The guilt that crept in made her even angrier and she had to force herself to breathe. How many times had she bailed him out? Used her hard-earned money or called in one too many favors? When had he ever been there for her? All he’d done was lie. About Annie’s mother. About everything.

“Monday’s the deadline and you haven’t done squat.” Lisa dragged a chair closer to Annie’s cluttered gray metal desk and adjusted her holster and gun before planting herself in Annie’s face. “What’s up with that?”

“Not now, okay?”

Lisa’s blue eyes clouded with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Annie started to shake her head although she knew better. She knew Lisa—her best friend, the sister she never had and an incredibly pushy broad. “It was Larry.”

“In jail again?”

“Yep.”

“Forget him.”

Annie sighed. “Yep.”

“Don’t you dare feel guilty.”

“Me? Hell, no. I’m not the parent. He’s the one who screwed up.” Except she did feel guilty, because she hated and loved him at the same time. Especially hated him for her longing for family and love that she couldn’t quite shake. “Let’s talk about something else.”

Lisa hesitated, obviously wanting to belabor the moot point, however her face brightened. “Like the detectives exam?”

Annie stared at her friend. Another annoying issue. “I haven’t decided to take it yet.”

“Why not? You’d ace it.”

“It’s the cool uniform. I don’t want to give it up.”

Lisa laughed. “Yeah, guys think we’re hot.”

Annie smiled wryly. Guys either really got off on the whole uniform thing, or they ran the other way. Not much happened in between. Which left Annie with going to the movies on Friday nights with Lisa and playing softball with the whole gang at the neighborhood park on Saturday mornings.

“I like where I am.” Comfortable. Familiar. Safe. Everything Annie wanted in life. “What’s the big deal, anyway?”

“Ah, gee, let me think about it. Hmm, what sounds better…Sergeant Corrigan…Detective Corrigan? Not to mention a huge pay raise.” She gave Annie a flat look and then her trademark nasal, “Hel-lo.” Loud enough that the few officers still hanging around the precinct turned to look at them.

“Why aren’t you taking the exam?” Annie asked.

“And embarrass my father? I barely made sergeant. I couldn’t even pass that the first time.”

Old argument. Useless to say anything. Annie had never figured out Lisa’s lack of confidence. Sure, her dad was a decorated police captain, but he and Mrs. O’Brien were encouraging and understanding, the kind of great parents every kid dreamed of. Annie knew firsthand, since she’d lived with them for half her teen years.

Of course, Great Aunt Marjorie had always been there for Annie, a shoulder to lean on, someone who always listened without judgment—mostly from long distance. She lived on a small ranch in Texas where Annie had spent a few summers when she was little.

“Seriously, Annie, you’d be crazy not to go for it. Sanders and Jankowski are both taking the exam.” Lisa didn’t bother to lower her voice when she added, “Those morons can barely spell. You’ve seen their reports. A fifth-grader could do better.”

“Lisa.” Annie glanced around, hoping no one overheard, although everyone in the precinct pretty much felt the same way about the pair. “Look, you like being a beat cop, so why can’t you understand that I like being a beat cop, too?”

“Because I know you better than that.”

Annie made a point of checking her watch. “Your shift started three minutes ago.”

Lisa gathered her dark blond hair back into a ponytail and secured it while getting to her feet. “Who’s supposed to make dinner?”

“Why do you always ask that when it’s your turn?”

Lisa grinned. “Just in case you forgot.”

“O’Brien. This isn’t a day at the spa.” Rick Thomas, Lisa’s partner, motioned impatiently.

Lisa motioned back. It wasn’t nice. Then she turned once more to Annie. “I’ll probably bring home takeout tonight.”

“Not cheeseburgers again, please.”

“Fine.”

Annie watched Lisa go, looking trim and sharp in her crisp blue uniform. Lisa was one of those disgusting women who ate anything yet never gained an ounce. And it was tough being her roommate because she tended to bring home junk food that was hard to resist.

Annie got up for more coffee, weaving between the desks that crowded the room, and trying not to yawn as she passed Captain Hansen’s office. After working nights for almost five years, it was hard to get used to the day shift. But she needed the switch in order to take a couple of night classes she’d been lusting after. Sadly, continuing education was the highlight of her social life.

Annie cursed under her breath when she saw that someone had drained the coffee but hadn’t started another pot. She measured out the grounds and filled the carafe with water. While she waited for the coffee to brew, she stared at the calendar that hung nearby on the wall.

Monday’s date was circled, marking the deadline for the detectives exam. As if she needed the reminder. Besides Lisa jumping down her throat, Mr. O’Brien had mentioned it, and her own captain had pointed out that she’d be foolish to pass up any more career opportunities.

So she’d missed the first sergeant’s exam. Not on purpose. She’d been finishing her master’s degree and had to study for a final. And why was everyone so worried about her career anyway? It was none of their business. If she wanted to stay where she was, that was her decision.

“Corrigan!”

She stuck her head out of the coffee room and saw Lieutenant Potter standing at her desk, Annie’s phone in his hand.

“Call for you,” he said, and set the receiver down on her desk.

Annoyed, she grabbed her empty mug and headed for the phone. She hoped it wasn’t another personal call, particularly from her father, even though everyone in the precinct already knew about her deadbeat dad. They knew about Steve Witherspoon, too, about how the scumbag attorney had used her. That stung more than anything else.

Hell, her colleagues seemed to know everything about everybody. The precinct was like a soap opera. That’s why she mostly kept to herself or hung out with Lisa.

She picked up the receiver and barked her last name.

“Annie?” The voice was shaky, but unmistakable.

“Aunt Marjorie?”

“Good heavens, girl. I hope you don’t always answer the phone that way.”

Annie sank into her chair, dread clawing at her chest as she glanced at the clock. Six-ten in the morning, Texas time. “Is everything okay?”

“Right as rain.” Her aunt hesitated. “Except for one small thing…Honey, you got any vacation time saved up?”

“What is it, Aunt Marjorie?”

“You know I wouldn’t ask you unless it was important.”

“Please tell me.”

Aunt Marjorie paused, her faint breath as weak as a fall leaf. “My doctor insists on me having some silly tests. Can’t be done locally, of course, so I gotta go all the way to Houston.”

Annie immediately picked up a pen and turned over a piece of used paper. “What kind of tests?”

“For my heart and lungs. Which are both obviously working fine or else I wouldn’t be here talking to you, would I?”

Annie smiled. Aunt Marjorie had always been feisty. She was close to eighty-five, a widow for fifty-one years and as stubborn as a woman who’d lived alone so long could be. Annie adored her. “The doctor had to have a reason, Aunt Marjorie. Would you mind if I spoke to him?”

“The thing is, honey, what I really need is for you to watch my ranch. Only for a week or so, until I get out of this place. I’m worried about the chickens mostly.”

“The hospital? You’re there? Now?”

“Just got here,” Aunt Marjorie said sheepishly. “But don’t go jumping to any conclusions—you get your exercise some other way, young lady. I’m fine. It’s the ranch I’m worried about. I don’t want the animals starving.”

“You don’t have that many left, do you?”

“A few milk cows. About two dozen hens that are still laying.”

“What about Chester?” Annie asked, who was already planning to go straight to the hospital and not the ranch. Chester had been an extra pair of hands and a good friend to Marjorie as far back as Annie could remember. He could take care of the few animals that remained.

“Honey, his arthritis is bad and he’s no spring chicken anymore.”

Annie sighed. From what she could recall, the man was at least a good eight to ten years younger than Aunt Marjorie. “Look, I’m coming to the hospital and then I’ll—”

“Annie, listen. I need you at the ranch. Not here. Dang it.” The beeping of medical machinery in the background made Annie’s heart race. “I have to go now.”

“No, wait. What hospital are you—”

She heard a click and then a dial tone. Cursing under her breath, she reached for a phone book. First, she’d book a flight, then tell the captain she needed time off. Chester would know what hospital Aunt Marjorie was in. If not, she could ask Lisa to find out, even if she had to use official channels.

Annie’s gaze caught on the piece of paper she held. An application for the detectives exam. Potter had apparently brought it over when he answered her phone. She exhaled slowly as she crumpled it in her fist and tossed it in the wastebasket. Aunt Marjorie was far more important.

L UKE M CC ALL HAD had a lot of practice sneaking in and out of places and he was damn good at it. He coasted his pickup into the empty parking lot to a space right in front of the Quick Trip, turned off the engine and glanced around as he flexed his stiff shoulder. Frowning at the pain, he slowly climbed out of the truck.

At eleven o’clock, the convenience store was dead, just as he’d hoped. Instead of going straight to Hasting’s Corner, he was here for supplies forty miles outside of town. Once he got to his granddad’s ranch, he’d be able to hole up for a while without anyone knowing he was back. Not that anyone cared about him, except out of pure nosiness—aside from Sally Jo, who’d bring over her chicken and dumplings and an open invitation to wash more than his jeans.

And if Barb’s husband was away on roundup, she’d probably show up, too. Not that Luke would ever drop his bucket in another guy’s well. Even a no-account like him had some principles.

He snorted at the irony of his predicament. He wouldn’t have so much as sniffed around Joanne if he’d known she was Old Man Seabrook’s wife. Hell, she was young enough to be his daughter. Easy mistake. Turned out to be a big one, though. Because now Luke had the law crawling up his ass. The kind of money Seabrook had could buy a whole lot of trouble for Luke.

He pushed open the door, setting off the overhead bell and, without looking up from the paper she was scribbling on, the woman behind the counter said, “We just closed.”

Luke removed his Stetson, and swept back his hair, just as the woman looked up. “Sorry, ma’am. I must’ve missed the sign.”

She blinked, then shoved a pencil behind her ear and gave him a quick once-over. A slow smile lifted her ruby-red lips. “Well, cowboy, you go ahead and lock that door behind you and I’ll give you time to get what you come for.”

Luke tipped his hat to her before resetting it on his head. “Thank you, ma’am.” His smile vanished as soon as he turned away to lock the door. Must be getting old. He used to like being gawked at as if he were a piece of juicy chicken-fried steak.

“Won’t be but a minute,” he said and strolled down the aisle toward the refrigerated section, feeling the weight of her stare at his back.

“Take your time,” she called after him. “I’m just wrapping up my paperwork, and it’ll be nice to have a big strong man walk me out to my car for a change.”

Luke blew out a puff of air. Walking out with her was all he was doing. He grabbed a six-pack of beer from the refrigerator, reconsidered, and exchanged it for a twelve-pack. If he was lucky, maybe he could hide out at the deserted old ranch for a week before the sheriff found out that he had inherited the place six months ago. Careful of his injured shoulder, he carried the beer, three packages of cold cuts and two loaves of bread to the register.

“You going to a party?” the woman asked, eyeing his haul.

“No, ma’am.” He withdrew his wallet and waited for her to ring up his purchases.

“You call me ma’am one more time, cowboy, and I’ll have to spank you.” Her teasing grin made one side of his mouth hike up. “I’m not that much older than you.” She dropped his lunchmeat and bread into a bag. “But don’t you worry. I got a husband and two nearly grown boys of my own, but I can still look.”

“You best be careful, ma—, uh, darlin’,” he said. “It’s late, the place is deserted. You shouldn’t be talking to a strange man like that.”

She took the money he handed her. “Thought you might be from around here, but I guess not. This is East Texas, sugar. Anyway, I ain’t got nothing to worry about with you.” She winked as she handed him his change. “It’s all in your eyes. Decent men have that certain look.”

Luke snorted. Boy, she had no idea how wrong she was. All she had to do was ask anyone in Hasting’s Corner. Luke’s own grandfather could have set her straight if the ornery old buzzard hadn’t keeled over last year while trying to shoe a stubborn mule. “You ready for that escort outside?” he asked, gathering up his groceries.

She smiled. “You go on ahead, handsome. I still have another ten minutes of trying to make some sense out of these here numbers.”

Luke hesitated, but she came around the counter to shoo him out, getting to the door before him to unlock it.

Her gaze caught on his belt buckle, the one he’d won three years ago. “Hey, you on the circuit?”

He nodded, anxious to leave before she asked any more questions. Too late, he realized. He should have just lied and said it belonged to his brother.

“You somebody I would know?”

“Nah.”

“Well, you won that buckle. That’s no small thing. What’s your name?”

“Tom Black.”

“Hmm, we’re big rodeo fans. But I can’t say I recall your name. Sorry.”

“No problem. I’m new to the circuit.”

Her disbelieving frown was like a bucket of cold water thrown in his face. Hell, he already knew he was getting too old to still be riding, much less be new to the game.

“Well, you drive careful, you hear?” she said, then opened the door and locked it behind him. His arms full, he nudged his chin in farewell when she waved, then deposited his groceries and himself into the battered white pickup.

Slouching down in the seat, he adjusted his hat and was surprised by a fleeting image of his grandfather. Luke missed him sometimes. The guy could be as stern and dour as a lemon-sucking preacher, but he was still the only father Luke had ever known. His own daddy had skipped town before Luke had taken his first step. Didn’t want no kids, no responsibility, he’d told everyone, then just up and left.

Now that he was older, Luke understood. He didn’t like being tied down, either, but he sure as hell wouldn’t leave a wife and baby behind to starve. Nope. The rodeo was his life and he made no apologies. And he sure as hell didn’t scatter regrets.

One by one the lights went out in the store and then the door opened and Luke straightened. He watched the clerk hurry toward a blue compact car and open the door, before he started his truck.

Once she was safely inside and had turned on her headlights, he put the truck in gear. She honked and waved as she reversed out of the stall. He pulled out onto the highway and headed toward Hasting’s Corner, not sure what he was going to do once he got there, besides sleep. He needed a solid twenty-four hours’ worth. Then, maybe he could come up with a plan to get to Joanne.

Then, too, if he laid low long enough, maybe Seabrook would cool off and admit that Luke hadn’t stolen the million bucks in prize money. He flexed his aching shoulder, wincing with the pain that shot to his neck. Hell, even if it took a month to straighten out this mess, it wasn’t as if he’d be getting on another bull soon. Not till Houston, anyway. For the money. Even if it ended up being the last time. The hell with what the doctors said.

He got to the familiar fork in the road and veered right toward Hasting’s Corner. The road, narrow and full of potholes, divided the flat idle land for endless miles. Without streetlights and with no moon it was too dark to see anything, but he remembered the road well, even though he’d only been back twice since he’d left home at sixteen.

The farther it went the land got hilly and more interesting. That’s where that bastard Seabrook lived. In a big white show-house on the side of a hill, facing a lake. The self-proclaimed king of the rodeo, big and mean as a Brahma bull, Seabrook ruled the county. And wasn’t it just Luke’s rotten luck that of all the counties this side of Texas, the bastard had to live here?

Something flashed up ahead. Luke caught it right before he rounded the bend. It was a car, still distant, but no mistaking the warning lights.

“Damn!”

He slowed down, trying to decide if he should stop. Ten miles out of town like this, it could be someone he knew.

“Damn!”

Whoever it was had to have a cell phone. Everyone did these days and, if not, ten miles wasn’t that far to walk. He got close enough to see that it was a small red Ford, its right rear tire stuck in a ditch. But no sign of a person. Good. Problem solved.

Just as he passed the car he saw her—a woman, slim, with long, dark, wavy hair. Standing in the beam of the headlights.

“Damn.” He couldn’t leave her out here.

But then again…

He turned the truck around.

2

“D AMN IT!”

Annie slapped at the fourth mosquito that had assailed her in the past two minutes, and watched the truck speed by. Too bad she didn’t have her gun. She’d shoot the dumb tires. Before she could get her purse and start hoofing it toward town, she saw the truck turn around.

She sighed with relief. Although the driver could be an axe murderer. Terrific thought. Nah, this was Texas hill country, not Brooklyn. Not that she was foolish enough not to worry some. But walking for ten miles in the dark didn’t seem smart, either.

The white pickup coasted to a stop beside her. She couldn’t see the driver until he reached over and opened the passenger door. The interior light was dim, but not enough to shadow his vivid blue eyes.

“Seems you have a problem, darlin’,” he said in a slow easy drawl. His sexy smile gave her a shiver where it had no business.

“I don’t suppose you’d be able to give me a tow out of that ditch.”

“Nope. Too dark. And I don’t have any rope. But I can give you a ride to town. Got two gas stations there.”

“Open at this time of night?”

“Nope. Hop in.”

“Give me a minute to get my bag.” By the time she opened the car door, he’d gotten out of his truck and met her there. His right shoulder brushed across her breasts as he beat her to the bag sitting on the back seat.

“You travel mighty light for a woman,” he said as he hauled out the black nylon overnighter. “That’s refreshing.”

“That’s sexist.”

“Just speaking from experience.” He gave her one of those sexy smiles again.

Her left calf tickled as if something had crawled up under her jeans. Probably nothing, but she leaned down and rubbed through the denim anyway. “I’m Annie Corrigan, by the way.”

He hesitated. “Luke. Where you headed?”

“Hasting’s Corner. Well, actually to my aunt’s ranch on the other side of town.”

“What’s her name?”

“Marjorie Wilson.”

“Oh, yeah, the widow woman.”

“You know her?”

Either he hadn’t heard her or he chose to ignore the question. He opened the truck’s passenger door and waited until she climbed in, then closed it before stowing her bag in the back and getting behind the wheel.

“She’s in the hospital,” Annie said. “Having some tests done.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“So you live around here?”

“Used to.” That’s all he said.

Fine with Annie. She didn’t feel like talking, either. She was tired, sticky hot from the humidity, and a little worried about what she’d find when she got to the ranch. She knew it wasn’t a big production. From what she remembered, besides the cows and chickens and a few stray dogs, Aunt Marjorie sometimes used to board horses. Hopefully, Chester had everything under control. It wasn’t as if Annie could do much, unless given direction.

God, she should’ve ignored Aunt Marjorie and headed straight for Houston. She should’ve called Chester from there, made sure everything was all right and then gone to be with her aunt. Generally, she was more rational than this acting first and thinking later business. Of course, it wouldn’t be too late to go to Houston in the morning. Provided she got the dumb rental car out of the ditch.

She glanced over at Luke. He kept his gaze on the road, his brows slightly puckered. His mind was definitely somewhere else. Maybe she’d made him late for something. Probably a hook up; he was a real hottie. Perfect eyes, perfect lips, the lower one fuller than the top one, just the way she liked them.

And, oh, mama, she’d seen the way he filled out those faded jeans. With his hat and cowboy boots, he definitely had the whole thing going on. Lisa would have been all over him by now.

“I really appreciate you stopping,” she said, after staring at him for too long. “I’d been standing there a while.”

He looked over at her, almost as if he’d forgotten that she was sitting there. How flattering. Then he gave her a lazy, sexy smile and all was forgotten. “No problem, darlin’. Happy to help a pretty lady in distress.”

“Oh, brother.”

He cocked a brow at her.

She coyly put a hand to her mouth. “Oops. Did I say that out loud?”

His lips curved and then he laughed, a full rich sound that resonated in the cab of the truck and warmed her in uncomfortably intimate places.

She turned back to the road and gripped the dashboard. “Look out!”

Caught by the headlights, a deer stood frozen in the middle of the road. Luke swerved, but clipped the animal on the hind end. It started to dart but fell to the pavement.

“Shit!” He stopped the truck, threw it into Park and got out.

The doe got to her feet and then dropped her hind end again.

Annie climbed out behind Luke who’d already knelt beside the animal.

“Steady, girl,” he whispered. “Let’s take a look here.”

The deer jerked, and tried again to get up.

“What can I do?” Annie asked.

He ignored her, his attention solely on the doe. He gently touched the animal’s flank and whispered something Annie couldn’t hear. The doe seemed to calm down enough for him to probe her leg, his large tanned hand stroking the area, prompting a surprisingly lusty reaction from Annie.

His fingers were long and lean, his nails clean and nicely squared off. Easy to imagine them roaming over a woman’s body. Her body. She cleared her throat.

At the sound, the doe started. Then she leaped to her feet and darted into the trees.

Luke got up just as suddenly, and Annie didn’t have time to step out of his way. To keep them from colliding, she put a hand on his shoulder. As he straightened, her palm slid down his forearm. Firm rounded muscles lay beneath the blue Western-cut shirt. The man was definitely athletic. She let go, hoping her reluctance didn’t show too much.

He dusted his jeans and stared after the deer even though she’d disappeared. “She’s bruised a little, but stunned more than anything else. She’ll be okay.” He lifted his hat and swept a hand through his longish sun-streaked hair before setting the hat back on his head. “If she stays off the road, that is.”

Annie followed him back to the truck. “That was amazing how she calmed down for you.”

“She knew I was no threat.”

“How?”

He put the truck back in drive. “Around these parts, I’m known as the deer whisperer.”

“Really?”

After a brief silence, he burst out laughing. “Where are you from?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Damn it. She was a good cop because of her good instincts. No one would ever dare consider her gullible. “And here I was just starting to think you were a nice guy.”

“Don’t make that mistake.” He stretched his neck from side to side, grimacing with the effort, and then tipped his hat back slightly. “We’ll be hitting town in a couple of minutes. Guess you want to go straight to your aunt’s place.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Nope. You got any folks there that can give you a ride in to town tomorrow?”

Annie rested her aching head back against the seat. Today had been only her third time on a plane. She hated it. Way too stressful. After today, if she never left New York again that would be fine with her. “I don’t think so. Maybe Chester.”

Luke let out a laugh. “That old buzzard’s still kicking, huh?”

Annie snorted. “What a nice way to put it.”

He shrugged his good shoulder. “I’ve known the old guy since I was knee high to a mule. He and my granddad used to play cards every Saturday night. Made me fetch their beer and chewing tobacco when they ran out.”

“Is that where you’re going? To visit your grandfather?”

His mouth tightened. “He passed almost a year ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

Luke gave an abrupt nod, then made it clear he didn’t want to talk anymore by rolling down his window and staring hard off into the darkness. “I’m gonna make a quick detour. Won’t take but a minute.”

She should have been scared, or at least concerned. She didn’t know this man. But her gut told her it was okay and she always trusted her gut. Except when it came to men and it was personal—then her instincts sucked. The fiasco with Steve Witherspoon was proof enough.

They turned down a dark side road, mostly gravel judging by the crunching of the tires. But they’d only driven a few feet when Luke stopped the truck and muttered a soft curse.

“What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head, he squinted hard toward the glow of a faint light filtering through the trees. Without a word, he threw the truck into Reverse and sped backward all the way to the main road.

She clutched the armrest and held her breath. It was so dark. Only a sliver of moon was visible. He couldn’t possibly see where he was going. He swung backward onto the highway and her stomach lurched. And tourists complained about NewYork cabbies.

“What is going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, I could tell.” After nearly sliding off the seat, she straightened. He ignored her, keeping his eyes steady on the road, his mind obviously preoccupied.

She respected his apparent need for silence, but another careless move like that and she’d get out and walk. And then he could have all the silence he wanted.

As soon as her heart-rate returned to normal, she focused on the task ahead of her. Halfway through the small town she realized where they were. It was easy to miss without any lights on. In fact, there wasn’t even a single streetlight.

“Man, the place hasn’t changed a bit,” Luke murmured with a hint of disdain.

“How long has it been since you’ve been back?”

“A while.”

Annie didn’t push. God knew she understood if he didn’t want to talk about his family. Now that she was older, it didn’t smart as much but, as a child, when the subject of parents came up, all she wanted to do was crawl into a dark corner and hide. How did you tell other kids or their parents that your dad was a drunk and spent more time in jail than out? Or have to confess that your mother hadn’t wanted to be a mother after all, and had run off to Hollywood to seek the fame that she never found?

“You’re quiet,” Luke said finally.

“I didn’t think you wanted to talk.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re here.”

She sat up straighter and peered into the darkness. A red reflector on the mailbox pole caught her eye. Other than that, there was no indication this was her aunt’s place, or that any house existed nearby. But catching sight of a funny shaped tree that was briefly illuminated by the headlights helped her recognize the place.

The first summer she’d visited the ranch she’d gotten in trouble for swinging on its lower branches. She’d fallen and sprained her right ankle, and scared Aunt Marjorie senseless.

The truck hit a pothole and Annie’s teeth came down hard on her lower lip. She bit back an oath and then kept her teeth clamped shut. In less than a minute they got to the gate, which seemed pointless since the fencing had come down in at least three places, but that’s all Annie could see.

A floodlight coming from the eaves of the barn cast a dim light on the gravel road that led to the house. Everything looked horribly dingy, and Annie prayed it was because of the poor lighting. It had to be. Aunt Marjorie had money. She’d paid for Annie’s college tuition. Her books. The dorm. She’d paid for everything.

The closer they got to the house, the deeper Annie’s heart sank. The place was a mess. Lighting had nothing to do with the sagging front porch or the chipped white paint that had once made the railings and picket fence seem like part of a fairy tale to Annie’s bruised young heart.

“How long has she been in the hospital?” Luke asked as he stopped the truck in front of the cracked walk.

Annie sighed. “I had no idea that—Oh!” But she would have, if she hadn’t been so self-absorbed. Aunt Marjorie was almost eighty-five. She couldn’t take care of the place, not with only Chester’s help. But why hadn’t she hired more hands? Had she blown all her savings on Annie? The thought made Annie sick. Bile rose in her throat.

“You okay?”

She turned to find him watching her. Unfortunately, what little light there was shone on their faces. “Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate this,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

He peered closer, frowning, and then touched the side of her jaw, forcing her to turn her chin toward him. “What happened here?”

Reflexively, she jerked away from his touch and felt her chin. “What?”

“Here.” He touched the corner of her mouth and his finger came away with a blood smear.

“Oh, the pothole. I bit my lip.”

He grimaced. “Sorry, darlin’. I was trying to take it easy.”

“It’s nothing.” Hell, she’d even been shot once. The bullet had only grazed her, but she still had a small scar on her thigh.

“You just wait now.” He drew his finger across her lip. “I don’t want Chester coming at me with a shotgun.”

Her gaze was drawn to the curve of his mouth, the way his shadowed chin dimpled ever so slightly. His voice was so low and intimate that she had to swallow before speaking.

“Aunt Marjorie said he still sleeps in the bunkhouse.” Her voice came out a whisper, the innocent words sounding, even to her, like an invitation. But once they were uttered, she held her breath waiting for his response.

“Well, then how are you gonna get in the house short of waking him up?” He’d moved his hand away from her mouth but kept his arm resting along the back of the seat.

“I know where the key’s hidden.”

“Ah, the hidden key.” He grinned, his teeth gleaming, his hat hiding his eyes. His beard-rough skin almost disguised the scar that curved up the side of his jaw.

“Well, thanks again for the lift.” She pulled the door handle but it wouldn’t move.

He leaned across her with his left arm, his chest brushing her breasts, his rough chin grazing her skin, and he jerked the handle. “Gets stuck sometimes,” he said, his mouth close enough to hers that, if she moved a fraction of an inch, they’d touch. Then he pushed the door open, his arms practically encircling her. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, and held still as he unhurriedly drew back, the warmth of his breath lingering seductively on her cheek. When she could finally breathe, she slid out of the truck.

Luke got out, too, and grabbed her bag.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m not letting you walk into a dark house unescorted. Now, you go on and find that key. I’ll turn my back if you want.”

She snorted, tempted to tell him she was a Brooklyn cop and could take care of herself. But part of her didn’t want him to leave, or want to find out that he was one of those guys who ran from the uniform. Not that it mattered. He’d be gone in a matter of minutes. So, what would it hurt if she let him walk her inside? Let him think she was scared. So what?

Luke kept the truck’s headlights on while she climbed the rickety front steps, carefully sidestepping a rotting board. She found the key taped under a carved wooden blue jay perched on top of a homemade bird feeder, just where Aunt Marjorie said it would be. The lock stuck at first but, after jiggling it, the door opened, and she found the porch light switch.

As bad as the place initially looked, under the light the appalling amount of disrepair sickened Annie. Not just cosmetic stuff, either. The porch was actually sagging in the middle, frighteningly near where Aunt Marjorie kept her scarred oak rocking chair.

“Looks like Mrs. Walker’s been sick for a while.” Luke had come up behind her.

Embarrassed to admit she didn’t know, Annie reached for her bag. “Really, I can take it from here. I don’t want to inconvenience you any more than I already have.”

He held the bag out of her reach and gave her a crooked smile. “You wouldn’t be trying to get rid of me now, would you?”

“Yes.”

Surprise lifted his brows and he laughed. “That’s just too bad,” he said then carried the bag into the house.

It took Annie a moment to follow. His reaction surprised her, and she wasn’t sure how to take his persistence. But her eyes helplessly kept pace with him. He was one fine looking man.

She pulled herself together and caught up with him in the living room. The sight of the worn blue carpet and faded upholstered furniture brought her back to reality. She swallowed hard. Only two years ago, Aunt Marjorie had sent her a check toward graduate school tuition. Annie had refused at first but her aunt had insisted, claiming that she had nothing else to spend her money on.

Annie muttered a curse under her breath. How could she have been so selfish? If she’d only taken the time to visit in the past five years….

“Hey.”

She looked at Luke. “What?”

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Right.” He looked around, then held up the bag. “Where do you want me to put this?”

“Anywhere.” She shook her head. “I’ll take it.” The place was worn but couldn’t be neater. The least she could do was to keep it that way.

He let go of the bag but she didn’t like the way he studied her, as if trying to figure out what was going on inside her head. “I sure could use something cold to drink,” he said before she could figuratively show him the door.

“I’m not sure what’s available—”

“Water would be fine.”

She could hardly refuse. She set the bag on the brown corduroy recliner and started to go right, and then realized the kitchen was the other way. He followed, not bothering to hide his interest in the place, checking out the chipped windowsills and cracked kitchen linoleum.

Silly for her to take it personally, but she did. By the time she got to the refrigerator, her annoyance had escalated. She owed him something to drink at the very least. Maybe she should even offer him some money for his time, and then she’d politely explain that she was exhausted. Anybody would get the hint and leave.

She found some orange juice and a jug of iced tea, and then she got out a tray of ice. It took a couple of tries before she found the cupboard that held glasses, a collection of mismatched tumblers and a set of tall pastel plastic ones. She heard a funny click and turned around.

Luke stood there with the blade of his army knife extended toward her.

3

A NNIE’ S GAZE FIXED on the knife. “What are you doing?”

Too late, Luke realized how it must look. He picked up the kitchen chair and turned it upside down. “This thing is a little shaky. Figure it needed some tightening.”

“Oh.” She blinked, then looked at him with relief in her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help.” This setup was perfect. Luke smiled at Annie. She was cute in an earthy sort of way. With her long untamed brown hair and wide hazel eyes with barely any makeup, she reminded him of a girl he’d hung out with in high school, in fact the only dark-haired girl he’d ever dated. And that had been only the once. After going to a movie, and then making out under the bleachers at the football stadium, they’d ended up being more like buddies. Until he’d skipped town.

He finished the task of tightening two of the legs, his mind racing. Obviously he couldn’t go back to his granddad’s ranch. Seabrook’s hired guns shouldn’t have figured it out and found the place so quickly. Luke had underestimated them. But staying in a motel around these parts was out of the question. He might as well take out an ad in the local paper telling them where he was. Yet he needed to stay close, to find a way to get to Joanne.

Annie Corrigan didn’t know it yet, but she was the answer to his problem. He set the chair to rights and smiled at her. “Have a seat, darlin’.”

Frowning slightly, she set a glass of what looked like apple juice on the table, or maybe it was Scotch. Either one was all right with him. “You go ahead,” she said.

“Anything wrong?” He removed his hat and set it on the table as he slid onto the chair.

“What? Oh, no, I was just—it’s nothing.”

He nodded, picked up the glass, smelled the apple juice and sipped its icy sweetness. He’d have much preferred scotch or better yet, beer, but for now, he needed to keep a wholesome impression. “You know if Chester’s still driving?”

“Not a clue.” She poured herself a glass, and he helped himself to a good look at the generous curve of her backside.

He looked up as soon as she turned around. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll get that car of yours out of the ditch.”

She looked torn. “I don’t want to inconvenience you any more than—”

“You can cook me breakfast. How’s that?”

She sighed, briefly closing her eyes and rubbing her right temple. “Then you’ll have to take me to the store to get groceries, and I’ll owe you again.”

Like hell, he’d go into town. He smiled. “Cheer up.”

“Right.” Her gaze went from the cracked linoleum floor to the yellow refrigerator that had to be over fifteen years old. “Have you taken a good look at this place?”

“Not your responsibility, is it?”

“Uh, yeah, it is, sort of,” she said, abruptly looking away. “It’s complicated.”

“So you’re gonna be fixing it up?”

She turned back to him, her lips parting, but nothing came out. Her shoulders sagged, and finally she said, “Yes.”

“Then you’re in luck. Just so happens I’m between jobs. For room and board, I’m all yours.”

“Really?”

“Do with me as you please, ma’am.”

Her lips twitched. “That’s quite an offer.”

Luke smiled. “You don’t know the half of it.”

She breathed in, her breasts expanding beneath her thin white cotton shirt. “Are you sure about this? It seems like the place needs an awful lot of work.”

“I can’t promise to get it all done, but I’ll do what I can in the next ten days.”

“Fair enough. But I insist on paying you something, as well.”

“No need. A roof over my head and grub in my belly is plenty.”

She frowned suddenly. “Wait a minute. You have a place near here.”

“Yeah, well, the thing is…” He cleared his throat. He knew the question was bound to come up, but he didn’t have an easy answer without sounding like a whipped dog. “I haven’t been back for a while, and the place is a mess.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to concentrate on getting your place in shape?”

He scrubbed at his face. How many questions was this woman gonna ask?

“Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the help…” Curiosity brought out the golden flecks in her eyes.

“Look, when I say I haven’t been back in a while, I’m talking a long time,” he muttered and saw that her interest hadn’t died any. “It’s complicated,” he said, echoing her earlier words.

She sat there quietly for a moment, her thoughts clearly somewhere else, and then said, “Got it.” She stuck out her hand. “You have a deal.”

He stared at her hand for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the gesture, but damn, he didn’t know any women who shook hands. They hugged, they kissed, some of them even pinched his ass, but they didn’t shake hands. Not that this was a bad thing. Just different.

“Um, something wrong?”

“Nope.” He slid his palm against her warm soft flesh. “Deal.”

“Good.”

Neither of them moved for several moments. She withdrew her hand first, took a quick sip of the juice she’d poured for herself and then got up.

He leaned back in the chair and watched her. Staying here with her wouldn’t be a hardship. No, sir. She was on the thin side, with small breasts, but that nice round backside more than made up for anything lacking up front. Not that he was an ass man. He just liked women, period. Always found something nice about each and every one of them. Got him in trouble enough times, that was for sure.

She turned suddenly, but he didn’t think she’d caught him checking her out. He hadn’t been that obvious. She opened the refrigerator again and then one of the cupboards. “You must be hungry,” she said, and went to another cupboard that was almost as bare as the first. “Let’s see. Canned peaches, more canned peaches and…” She got up on tiptoes to see what was on the back of the second shelf, and then sighed. “I hope you like canned peaches.”

Luke smiled. “I stopped at a store on the way over and bought some stuff for sandwiches. They’re in the cooler in the back of my truck.” He got to his feet. “I’ll go get it.”

“Go ahead and take it to the bunkhouse with you.”

“The bunkhouse?”

“Yeah.”

“Darlin’, I’m not sleeping in the bunkhouse. I’m sleeping here with you.”

“With me?” Her eyebrows arched in amusement. “You think so?”

He tried not to smile. He didn’t mean it like it sounded. He just wanted to stay in the house. “I’m cheap labor. Don’t I deserve a nice soft bed?”

She leaned a hip against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m sure Chester can accommodate you.”

“Come on now, darlin’.”

Her expression tightened. “Don’t take this wrong, okay, but I—”

“I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t blame you for mistrusting me. A girl can’t be too careful and all that, but if I’d wanted to—”

“I’m not worried that you’re going to attack me,” Annie said, cutting him off. “I simply don’t like you calling me darlin’.”

“Why?”

She looked at him as if he’d crawled out from under a rock. “It’s demeaning.”

He thought for a moment. Hell, nowadays you couldn’t call them ma’am or darlin’ without getting your head bitten off. “Well, I figured I knew what that word meant, but now I’m not so sure. Just trying to be friendly is all.” He gave her his winning smile, she only rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should be more worried about letting a strange man into the house alone with you.”

She laughed. “Trust me. I can take care of myself,” she said, watching him closely. Too closely for his liking. “I’m a cop. A New York police officer. Brooklyn to be exact.”

That took the wind out of him. “A cop?”

She nodded.

“A cop,” he repeated, mostly to himself, hoping this was a really bad joke.

“Yep. Sergeant Annie Corrigan.”

Damn.

“Y OU FIND THAT no-good son of a bitch yet?”

Sheriff Jethro Wilcox held the cell phone away from his ear. Ernest Seabrook was loud enough when he wasn’t pissed off and, for the past two days, the man had been madder than a rutting buck without a doe.

“Not yet, Mr. Seabrook, but I figure he’ll show up at his granddaddy’s old ranch soon enough.”

“Soon enough?” Seabrook hollered. “Soon enough? Yesterday couldn’t have been goddamn soon enough. You understanding me, Jethro?”

“Yes, sir.” No use pointing out that was merely a figure of speech. The old man was as hardheaded as he was obnoxious, but he paid mighty well and it wouldn’t serve any purpose to piss him off further.

“You get me my million bucks, you hear? And you bring me that son of a bitch.”

No kidding. Why else would he be sitting out here by the McCall ranch, sweating like a pig in the heat and humidity near a mosquito-infested pond? “Yes, sir.” One of the critters buzzed near his ear. He swatted, missed and cursed.

“What did you say to me, boy?” Seabrook’s voice came out in an angry wheeze and then he started coughing. More than likely caused by the stinky cigars he was always smoking.

Wilcox smiled. “Nothing, Mr. Seabrook. Just getting eaten alive by these friggin’ mosquitoes.”

“Well, the sooner you find Luke McCall, the sooner you can go home.” Seabrook severed the connection.

Wilcox flipped his cell closed and slipped it into the breast pocket of his uniform shirt. He could go home any time he damn well pleased. Technically he didn’t work for Seabrook, but he’d gotten himself knee-deep in debt to the bastard, which, around these parts, pretty much meant Seabrook owned his ass.

What he couldn’t figure out was why Joanne stayed with that nasty piece of lard. Yeah, he had money, but she was a mighty fine looking woman and half his age. She could find another sugar daddy over in Dallas. A woman like that would be taken care of for a long time if she was so inclined.

Another mosquito buzzed close to his ear. He swatted at it, slapping the back of his sunburned neck too hard. “Son of a bitch.” He stared through the trees toward the highway. Couldn’t see a damn thing. Twenty minutes ago he’d seen headlights, but it must have been a wrong turn. Besides, the lights were high and wide like a truck’s, not like McCall’s flashy red Corvette.

Jethro stretched out his legs and slid lower in the seat so that the back of his head hit the headrest. If McCall didn’t show up tonight or early tomorrow morning, Jethro’s guess was that the guy had hopped a plane in Dallas. If Jethro had stolen a million dollars, that’s what he would’ve done. Get the hell out of Dodge, pronto. The only reason he was sitting in this crummy place at all was on account of Seabrook’s stubborn belief that McCall wouldn’t leave the state. Or the county, for that matter.

The whole thing just didn’t add up. Seabrook was president of the stockmen’s association that put up rodeo prize money. Luke McCall was one of the top bull riders in the country. Over his career, he’d earned over a million dollars and, as long in the tooth as that ole boy was getting, he was still riding. More than likely he would’ve taken a nice chunk of that prize money at next month’s rodeo. So why steal the mil? And what had he been doing at Seabrook’s ranch anyway?

There was no love lost between those two. Not since the Fourth of July two years ago, when Seabrook spooked Luke’s horse real bad right before the rodeo started. Some folks thought the old man had done it on purpose. If Luke had hurt himself he wouldn’t have ridden that big mean Samson. Staying on that Brahma bull for a record time ended up winning Luke a fifty-thousand-dollar purse.

Still, that missing money didn’t mean anything to Seabrook. Only a portion of it was his contribution to the stockmen’s association and it wasn’t out of the goodness of their hearts they put up the prize money. It was all promotion. They got back large returns that made blowhards like Seabrook millionaires.

Maybe Luke grabbed the cash to get even with Seabrook. Although that didn’t seem like McCall’s style. Or maybe he just wanted to make Seabrook sweat for a while. The old man was obviously embarrassed. That’s why he wanted the whole mess kept under wraps.

Jethro adjusted his hat to partially cover his eyes but still allow him to see if any headlights appeared. Seabrook had offered to square his debt if he brought Luke back and, no matter what their beef, that’s exactly what Jethro aimed to do.

W ELL, HE DIDN’ T RUN, but he sure looked as if he wanted to. Annie poured herself a second glass of juice. Her mouth had gotten so dry it felt as if her tongue had swollen. “You want another one?”

Luke shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go get a beer out of my cooler.”

“Knock yourself out.” She’d bet next month’s rent that he’d get in his truck and she’d never see him again. The horrified look on his face when she told him she was a cop took first place as far as reactions went.

“Want one?”

“Sure.” She waited until he got to the back door and said, “You forgot your hat.”

He turned and stared at it for a moment, and then his eyes met hers and his mouth curved up on one side. “I didn’t forget it.”

She watched him leave, and then she moved to the window to watch him walk to his truck. Yeah, he made a great picture with his long legs and snug-fitting jeans. Broad shoulders, for which she was a hopeless sucker, that tapered to a narrow waist made him look like he should be in a commercial.

She was equally interested in the way he walked. His long leisurely strides told her more about the man than he had himself. It was her job to study people, to understand the small quirks or habits that gave them away. So far, Luke had shown her two things: confidence and compassion, an interesting combination in a male ego. Healthy certainly, but really surprising at his age and the way he looked.

He had to be in his early thirties, and had to receive oodles of female attention. Probably got by on charm more than anything else. He certainly wasn’t lacking in that department. Even though Annie hated gratuitous endearments, she knew enough women who ate them up.

Tomorrow she’d have to ask Aunt Marjorie about him, or even ask Chester for that matter. She’d left the barn door wide-open already, as they’d say around here. She knew well enough she wouldn’t sleep soundly with this guy in the next room. She trusted her instinct but she’d be foolish not to be a bit apprehensive.

He turned back toward the house, and she ducked away from the window, grabbed their glasses and rinsed them out. She waited until she heard him set something on the table before she turned around. He’d brought in the entire cooler, which made sense, but it was still a little weird. She’d just met him and he was practically moving in.

“I figured I ought to put this food in the refrigerator. Can’t let it go bad. We might have to live on ham sandwiches for a while.”

“With white bread, I bet.”

“Is there any other kind?” He winked at her, and then pulled packages of cold cuts out of the cooler and deposited them into the refrigerator.

She watched him stack everything neatly on the second shelf, leaving room for the beer and a quart of milk. She thought about offering to help, but it was much more fun watching the way his shirt stretched across his back as he moved and how the soft faded denim molded his perfect ass.

His legs were long and, even without the inch heels on his cowboy boots, he was tall. Well over six feet for sure, since she was five-seven and only came up to his shoulders.

He kept out two beers. After opening them both, he handed one to her. She took it, even though she wasn’t crazy about beer. Rarely did she drink alcohol, and when she did it was some sweet frothy concoction that the guys at the precinct called a girly drink.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Luke asked after taking a long pull.

“Get my car out.”

“Right. First thing.”

“Talk to Chester about repairs.”

Luke pulled out a kitchen chair for her. “Don’t count on him being much help. He’s always had a bum leg and, at his age—” he shook his head “—the guy shouldn’t be doing too much.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sat down, exhaustion suddenly saturating her limbs. Not only was it late, but her body was still on East Coast time.

He took the seat across from her and leaned both elbows on the table. “He can help us figure out where the repairs are most needed and what kind of supplies are stored before we buy anything.”

She’d just paid off a chunk of her credit card so she was good in that department. Of course, she had no idea how much wood and paint and fencing and those sorts of things cost. If she maxed out her credit card, she didn’t care. Even that wouldn’t erase the guilt she felt for accepting the tuition money.

Annie shifted positions trying to get comfortable and bumped his leg. “Sorry.”

They both moved to get out of the way at the same time and bumped legs again.

Luke gave her a lopsided smile. “You keep flirting with me like this, I’ll start calling you darlin’ again.”

“I have a gun and I know how to use it.”

“Now you’re getting me excited.”

She laughed. “You’re one sick puppy.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Deservedly?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said matter-of-factly, and tipped the beer to his lips. Setting the bottle back on the table, he jerked and winced. His sharp intake of breath ended with a mild oath.

“What’s wrong?”

He gingerly rolled his shoulder. “Got a bad bruise.”

“A bruise?”

“From a fall.”

She didn’t say anything, just watched him probe his shoulder. A bruise wouldn’t cause that much pain. Maybe he didn’t want to tell her what had happened. Maybe she should start worrying.

He sighed. “You know what a rodeo is?”

“Of course.”

He started to unbutton his shirt. “Let’s say I met a bull more ornery than me.”

Each unfastened button exposed more smooth golden brown skin. “What are you doing?”

He undid the last button and shrugged the shirt off his left shoulder. “The doc gave me some ointment that helps with the stiffness.” He got a small tube out of the duffel bag beside the cooler and uncapped it. “I’ve dislocated it twice now and tore some ligaments last year, so now it acts up every once in a while.”

“Should you have been carrying all that stuff?” she asked, nudging her chin toward the cooler, but unable to drag her gaze away from his chest.

“It didn’t hurt then.”

“Are you twelve?” Her gaze stalled on his belly where the hair arrowed downward, and then slid to the bulk behind his fly. Definitely not twelve.

Smiling, he squeezed the white goop onto his palm. When he stretched his arm across his chest to reach the back of his shoulder, he grimaced, the pain tightening his features.

“Here.” She scooped the ointment from his palm onto hers and stood behind him. After rubbing her palms together to warm them, she gently slid them across his back.

He tensed.

She withdrew.

“Don’t stop.”

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

“I promise to cry like a baby.”

She smiled and slid her palms over hard muscle and smooth skin. Wow, he was perfect. Too perfect. Her nipples tightened. She bit her lower lip, and slowly worked her fingers around his shoulder blades.

He moaned. Not like he was hurt. More like how she felt: damp between the thighs, her mouth dry as cotton. When her hands started to shake, she stepped back until he was out of reach.

Luke looked over his shoulder at her.

“Good night,” she murmured, and took off down the hall.

4

L UKE WOKE UP with a hard on. Not the usual morning kind. This one was much more specific. Caused by one Annie Corrigan of the Brooklyn police department. Sergeant Annie Corrigan. Some luck he had.

Still, the woman was easy on the eyes and, man, those hands of hers. She might have eased the pain in his shoulder, but she’d stirred up a world of hurt in other areas. His cock twitched at the thought of her soft palms exploring his back, tracing his backbone lower than she’d needed. She had great hair, too. Long and slightly wild, its softness had brushed his bare shoulder and, for a moment, the pain was gone.

So she was a cop. She didn’t have any jurisdiction or interest in what was happening way out here and, since he didn’t dare go to Granddad’s place, staying here was perfect. Who’d poke around way out here? From what he recalled, Marjorie Walker had been a loner since her husband passed. She didn’t care for the local grapevine, so mostly stuck to herself, and Chester only went to town for supplies. Luke was pretty sure, if he asked him, the old guy wouldn’t mention Luke was back.

Poor Annie had her hands full enough. She’d be too busy fixing the place up to be dawdling around town, inviting questions. Anything they needed in the way of food or paint or wood, he’d go over to Sawyer County and pick up. Some folks knew him there, but mostly on account of the rodeo.

He rolled onto his side and squinted at his watch on the antique oak nightstand that matched the narrow twin bed. It couldn’t be nine already. He hadn’t slept that long since his hard-drinking days. When he’d been too young and too stupid and spent too much money on flashy cars and even flashier women. Luckily, those days were gone, but so was a lot of his money. Friggin’ idiot that he was.

Finally, he’d gotten his act together. He’d actually managed to save his last three winnings. And then this mess with Seabrook. Stupid bastard. Ready to ruin another man’s reputation over his damn pride. Luke wondered how much pride a man actually had when he was willing to do something low-down dirty like that.

It didn’t matter. Seabrook was angry, and Luke doubted he’d let up soon. Which meant if Luke didn’t get to Joanne and straighten this mess out in the next two weeks, he’d miss the Houston rodeo. Even second place offered a big enough purse that he’d have the money to put down on that sweet spread outside of San Antonio. With his savings, he’d buy horses and cattle. But only if his shoulder held out.

A damn big if.

The aroma of brewing coffee seeped into the room, and he stopped rubbing his cock long enough to check the time again. Only five minutes had passed. But it was past time to get up. First a shower, and then he’d find his way to the kitchen for some of that coffee.

He swung his legs out of bed and, before his feet hit the floor, the ache started. Both shoulders, his lower back, his thighs. Too many fractures and broken bones. Thirty-three and he felt like he was seventy-three. But he couldn’t quit yet. No matter what the doctors said.

H E LIMPED BADLY, probably should have been using a cane. From the kitchen window, Annie watched Chester, shoulders stooped and holding a pail in each hand, come from the barn toward the house. Her heart broke with every uneven step he took. He’d already looked old the last time she’d been here, and that had been a long time ago; there had always been something more important going on in her life than visiting her aging aunt.

Annie sniffed, and blinked a couple of times. She wasn’t one to get emotional, but guilt had a way of obliterating her defenses. Looking away, she got out another mug and the small pitcher of cream Aunt Marjorie always kept in the refrigerator. Annie specifically remembered that Chester used cream. He’d always drank his coffee nearly white and sickeningly sweet.

After a brief knock at the door, Chester came in. He grinned wide, a lower tooth missing, which had been gone forever. “Hi, honey,” he said, and put down the pails. “You’re looking pretty as ever.”

“And I see you still need glasses.” She went into his open arms and hugged his thin body. He’d lost a lot of weight since she’d seen him last but, remarkably, his hair was still more red than gray. “It’s good to see you, Chester.”

He still smelled like fresh cut hay.

“Good to see you, too, missy. Been a long while.”

“Yes, I know.” Her face flushed. “Too long. Come sit and have a cup of coffee.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He limped across the aged yellow linoleum floor and removed his battered brown hat before sitting down at the table. “Not that I ain’t happy to see you, but I told Marjorie she didn’t need to call and bother you. It’s not like Marjorie’s any help when she’s here.”

Annie swallowed hard. “Has she been sick long?”

“What?” Chester’s bushy eyebrows drew together. “Oh, I just meant that she’s too busy being bossy to get any real work done.”

“Ah. Well, that’s good.” Smiling to herself, she brought two mugs of coffee to the table.

“Ain’t nothing good about it. How’s a man supposed to get any peace and quiet while he’s getting his chores done?”

“If you want peace and quiet, Chester, why aren’t you retired?”

Snorting, he made a face. “That’s for city folks.” After dumping three large teaspoonfuls of sugar into his coffee, he took an appreciative sip. “Whose truck is that you’re driving?”

She’d almost forgotten about the man down the hall. How that was possible was beyond her comprehension, since it had taken her over an hour to fall asleep last night, even though she was dead on her feet. “Do you know a Luke McCall?”

Chester’s weathered face creased in a frown. “Luke? Yeah, I know the boy. Fritz McCall’s grandson. Ain’t seen him in a good long while. Why are you asking?”

“He’s here.” She tilted her head toward the bedrooms. “It’s his truck.”

Chester’s mouth dropped open, his gaze went to the empty hallway. “Luke is here?”

She nodded. “I landed my rental car in a ditch last night. I was lucky he came along when he did.”

“Luke is here,” he repeated, his grin growing wider. “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Where is that son of a gun?”

“Still sleeping, I think.”

Chester absently shook his head. A faraway look came into his watery blue eyes and his smile faded. “Wish he could’ve made it to his granddad’s funeral. I figure he didn’t come on account of his mother. Dang shame, though.”

Annie was dying to know what Chester meant, but she kept her mouth shut because she didn’t like anyone nosing around her personal business, either. She only smiled and sipped her coffee.

“He say why he’s here?” Chester asked.

“He has some kind of business to tend to. Plus, he’s between jobs.”

Chester looked confused for a moment, and then let out a howl. “Between jobs, is he?”

“That’s what he said.” What was the big joke? The more he laughed, the more annoyed she became. “What am I missing here?”

“You old goat. Thought they’d put you out to pasture by now.”

At the sound of Luke’s voice, they both turned. His hair still damp, he wore jeans that rode low on his hips, no shirt, and a white towel draped around his neck.

Chester pushed up from the table with impressive ease and speed. “You come here and smart mouth me, boy.”

The two men embraced, giving each other a quick hug, before standing back to eye each other. “You look good, you old coot,” Luke said. “Mrs. W. seems to be taking good care of you.”

Chester grunted. “The woman never could cook.” He slid a sheepish look at Annie. “Beggin’ your pardon, Annie.”

She shrugged. “You’re right. She cooks everything to mush.”

Ironically, for years Annie thought her aunt was the greatest cook in the world. Easy assumption since the rest of the year she mostly ate peanut butter sandwiches because that was something a seven-year-old could make for herself. The real treat was when her father brought home fast food. Always cold because he’d inevitably stop at the racetrack on the way home, but at least it was something her daddy had brought her and she’d gobbled it down as if every bite was an expression of his love. Foolish child that she’d been.

Chester looked hopefully at Annie. “I don’t suppose you know how to cook.”

“Breakfast I can handle.”

“I brought in fresh eggs,” he said, indicating the pail he’d left at the door. “I know Marjorie always keeps ham steak and bacon in the ice box or the freezer.”

“How about you?” she asked, looking at Luke, though trying really hard not to stare at his bare chest. With the sun streaming in through the kitchen window, his incredible blue eyes shone like sapphires. “Hungry?”

“I could eat.” He gave her one of those heart-stopping grins that made her question the wisdom of having him stay here in the house. “I’ll make toast.”

“Okay, then after breakfast how about we go get my car?”

“Sure thing.” He turned to Chester. “You have any strong rope we could use?”

“Yep. Out in the barn.” He started to get up, but both Annie and Luke protested at the same time.

Luke put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “We’ll go out to the barn together after breakfast. How’s that?”

The older man’s expression turned indignant.

“I wanted to talk to you privately, anyway,” Luke whispered.

“Gonna explain why you didn’t come to your granddaddy’s funeral, I suppose.” Chester settled back in his chair and took a sip of his coffee, his watchful eyes on Luke.

His face darkened. “Now, don’t you start in on me, old timer.”

“I ain’t startin’ in on you. I figure you had a reason and you might be wantin’ to get it off your chest.”

“You know why I couldn’t come,” Luke said, lowering his voice and sliding an exasperated glance at Annie.

Chester chuckled. “Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

Annie quickly went back to the business of getting out the frying pan and plugging in the toaster. But it wasn’t as if she could pretend she hadn’t heard. She could at least pretend she wasn’t curious as hell.

An awkward silence grew and then Luke said, “I’m gonna go put on a shirt, and then I’ll help with breakfast.”

She turned to watch him leave, already mourning the loss of all that glorious tanned skin and well-developed muscle. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Chester watching her. “Do I have to do anything to the eggs?” she asked and when he frowned she added, “Before I cook them.”

He laughed heartily. “Them are fresh eggs, missy. All you do is crack ’em and fry ’em.”

“I knew that,” she muttered, feeling sheepish and annoyed. “I talked to Aunt Marjorie this morning. She sounds in good spirits.”

“I know. I talked to her an hour ago.”

“Oh.” Annie shouldn’t have been surprised. “She told me the doctor said they should be done with her tests by Monday and then they’d release her.”

“Now if that don’t happen, don’t you fret. Your aunt’s an impatient woman.”

She poured a little oil into the frying pan for the smoked ham she’d found in the refrigerator drawer. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Is there anything I should know that Aunt Marjorie isn’t telling me?”

He took a thoughtful sip of coffee, saying nothing for a long uncomfortable moment. “Don’t believe I know what she told you.”

“I’m a cop, Chester. I know when someone’s evading me.”

“Respectin’ your aunt’s privacy is all I’m doin’.”

“Look, I know I haven’t been around and have no right to ask to be involved but—”

“Hold up there, missy. I never said that. I don’t feel that way neither.” Sighing, he pushed a hand through his thinning hair, so uneven he had to have cut it himself. “She’s been havin’ faintin’ spells lately.”

“Okay.” She put the ham in the pan to brown, and took her mug of coffee with her to the table so she could look Chester in the eyes. “And?”

“She won’t eat right.”

“You mean she’s not eating.”

His concerned expression got to her. “Your aunt, stubborn old mule that she is, won’t admit she’s got diabetes.”

“What?” Annie set down her mug before she dropped it. “But she’s got packages of cookies in the cupboard and homemade fudge in the fridge and—for crying out loud, she’s got more sweets in this house than anything else.”

“Yep. She’s got a sweet tooth all right.”

“But she knows she can’t have sugar, right? I mean, this is totally treatable.”

“She knows.”

“God, Chester.” Annie’s gaze jumped to the outdated, scarred cupboards. “Does she have a death wish or something?”

“Say what?”

Annie sighed heavily, staring at the uneven yellow linoleum. “Is it about money? This place needs so much—She sent me money, Chester. For tuition. For Christmas, for…”

She saw something move by the door. Luke stood there, about to enter the kitchen, the sympathetic look on his face more disturbing than if he’d accused her of being an uncaring selfish bitch.

“You listen here,” Chester said, his back to Luke. “Your aunt wanted you to have that money. It was important to her that you had a good education. Especially after your mother ran off like that, and then your father—”

“Do I smell something burning?” Luke asked, effectively stopping Chester.

“Uh, thanks, the ham.” Annie’s eyes met his gaze as she rose from the table. The ham wasn’t burning. He knew she was uncomfortable with him listening.

“I’ve got to make a phone call,” he announced, “and my cell battery is dead. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Use that one.” Chester pointed to the brown old-fashioned wall phone.

Annie saw the reluctance in Luke’s face. Obviously, he wanted privacy and she didn’t blame him. “There’s one in Aunt Marjorie’s bedroom. It’ll be quieter in there.”

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