“I’m Charlie Winchester, your local sheriff,”

he said, touching two fingers to the brim of his hat. He flashed a smile that revealed straight white teeth and twin dimples. His dark eyes studied her with leisurely thoroughness from behind amber lenses.

“I’ll bet you’re the new vet.”

“How’d you guess?” Robin asked.

He folded his tanned, muscular arms across his chest. “It wasn’t a guess. You’ve got out-of-state plates and a rental trailer.”

“Pretty clever of you,” she replied dryly, taking a step back from all that hunky broad-shouldered masculinity before it gave her the vapors.

From inside the clinic, a phone rang and a dog barked.

“I gotta go,” she said, turning.

“My office is right down the street, if you need anything.”

She waved but didn’t look back. “Yeah, thanks. See you.”

Charlie stroked his chin thoughtfully as he watched her disappear. “Count on it, sweetheart.”

Dear Reader,

Our resolution is to start the year with a bang in Silhouette Special Edition! And so we are featuring Peggy Webb’s The Accidental Princess—our pick for this month’s READERS’ RING title. You’ll want to use the riches in this romance to facilitate discussions with your friends and family! In this lively tale, a plain Jane agrees to be the local Dairy Princess and wins the heart of the bad-boy reporter who wants her story…among other things.

Next up, Sherryl Woods thrills her readers once again with the newest installment of THE DEVANEYS—Michael’s Discovery. Follow this ex-navy SEAL hero as he struggles to heal from battle—and save himself from falling hard for his beautiful physical therapist! Pamela Toth’s Man Behind the Badge, the third book in her popular WINCHESTER BRIDES miniseries, brings us another stunning hero in the form of a flirtatious sheriff, whose wild ways are numbered when he meets—and wants to rescue—a sweet, yet reclusive woman with a secret past. Talking about secrets, a doctor hero is stunned when he finds a baby—maybe even his baby—on the doorstep in Victoria Pade’s Maybe My Baby, the second book in her BABY TIMES THREE miniseries. Add a feisty heroine to the mix, and you have an instant family.

Teresa Southwick delivers an unforgettable story in Midnight, Moonlight & Miracles. In it, a nurse feels a strong attraction to her handsome patient, yet she doesn’t want him to discover the real connection between them. And Patricia Kay’s Annie and the Confirmed Bachelor explores the blossoming love between a self-made millionaire and a woman who can’t remember her past. Can their romance survive?

This month’s lineup is packed with intrigue, passion, complex heroines and heroes who never give up. Keep your own resolution to live life romantically, with a treat from Silhouette Special Edition. Happy New Year, and happy reading!

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

Man Behind the Badge
Pamela Toth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedicated with appreciation and affection to my editor,

Karen Taylor Richman, for her support,

her understanding and—most of all—her patience,

above and beyond the call of duty.

PAMELA TOTH

USA TODAY bestselling author Pamela Toth was born in Wisconsin, but grew up in Seattle where she attended the University of Washington and majored in art. Now living on the Puget Sound area’s east side, she has two daughters, Erika and Melody, and two Siamese cats.

Recently she took a lead from one of her romances and married her high school sweetheart, Frank. They live in a town house within walking distance of a bookstore and an ice-cream shop, two of life’s necessities, with a fabulous view of Mount Rainier. When she’s not writing, she enjoys traveling with her husband, reading, playing FreeCell on the computer, doing counted cross-stitch and researching new story ideas. She’s been an active member of Romance Writers of America since 1982.

Her books have won several awards and they claim regular spots on the Waldenbooks bestselling romance list. She loves hearing from readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 5845, Bellevue, WA 98006. For a personal reply, a SASE is appreciated.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

With a sigh of relief, Robin Marlowe pulled up in front of a small box-shaped building at the outskirts of town and parked next to a dusty SUV with a dent in the side. The soda she’d gulped down when she stopped for gas at a truck stop back in Kansas was starting to make her squirm on the hot vinyl seat of her aging tan VW Rabbit. Her fingers were cramped around the wheel.

The faded sign beside the front door said Dr. Elliot Harmon, D.V.M. Specialty—Large Animals.

Dr. Harmon’s large-animal practice was the very reason Robin had traded the familiar crowds and chaos of Chicago for the empty Colorado plains, eerily silent but for the sound of the wind. She’d come to Waterloo in order to gain experience treating horses and cattle. She was looking forward to meeting her new boss almost as much as finding a rest room—if he hadn’t given up on her and hired someone else.

If he had, maybe he’d let her use the facilities anyway.

Robin blamed her delayed arrival on a broken water pump that had wrecked her budget as well as her schedule. According to the mechanic, whose rates were higher than her dentist’s back home, pulling the fully loaded utility trailer through the late-August heat had overtaxed her car’s small engine.

She probably should have called Doc Harmon to explain, but she’d figured it would be harder for him to fire her in person. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Robin had managed to extract herself from the sticky car seat without losing any skin from the backs of her thighs and was smoothing the wrinkles from her navy-blue skirt when the door of the clinic burst open.

“Dr. Marlowe?” demanded the elderly man hurrying toward her, a black leather bag gripped in one bony hand. Tall and lean as a coatrack, he was slightly stooped, his shock of white hair combed back from a thin face with a high forehead and a beaky nose. He was wearing a plaid sport shirt with sleeves that fluttered in the faint breeze and tan slacks that hung on his spare frame like cheap slipcovers.

“Yes, that’s me.” Robin removed her sunglasses and shielded her eyes against bright sunlight, bracing herself for bad news. “You must be—”

“Doc Harmon.” He gave her hand a quick, hard squeeze. “Glad to see you. I expected you yesterday, but no matter. I’ve got an emergency and my receptionist is out sick.” He gestured at the building behind him. “Can you man the phone till I get back?”

“Uh, I guess.” Her stomach fluttered with a mix of apprehension and relief. What if she messed up?

“Just take a message,” he said, heading for the SUV. “Tell ’em I’m out to Winchesters’ spread.” Without waiting for a reply, he opened the door and climbed in with surprising agility for someone his age.

Robin’s hand tightened on the shoulder strap of her purse as she watched him start the engine and lower the window. Perhaps he was too shorthanded to fire her just yet, but he still might.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, raising her voice. “My car—”

“You’re here now.” He barely spared her a glance as he backed up. “My cell phone number’s on the counter.”

Slightly dazed, Robin watched him drive away. She was hot, thirsty and nearly broke. She needed a bathroom, a place to stay and, thanks to the gold-plated water pump, an advance on her pay.

“Not much of a welcome, huh?”

The unexpected touch on her shoulder and the male voice at her ear startled a shriek out of her. She spun around to see a man wearing a shiny silver starred pinned to his khaki uniform shirt.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He flashed a smile that revealed straight white teeth and twin dimples. Only a nose that looked as if it must have been broken saved him from being entirely too handsome. “I’m Charlie Winchester, your local sheriff,” he added, touching two fingers to the brim of his hat.

“Uh, hi,” Robin managed, still a little shaken. Her nerves had been stretched tight during the long drive from Chicago, and her shoulders ached from hunching over the steering wheel since she’d left the shabby motel early this morning.

But wasn’t Winchester the name Doc Harmon had mentioned when he’d told her where he was headed? Did they own the town? She could hardly ask the sheriff, whose dark eyes studied her with leisurely thoroughness from behind amber lenses.

Robin knew what he’d see, a plain woman with black hair cut ruthlessly short and a face free of anything fancier than road dust. She wasn’t a girly girl, and she didn’t bother much with paints and perfumes. It irked her that she had to tip her head back in order to look at his face instead of his wide chest. She was small but wiry, and as her aunt Dot used to say, Robin was tall on the inside, where it counted.

Robin wasn’t so sure of that anymore, and her aunt was no longer around to ask.

“I’ll bet you’re the new vet,” the sheriff said as if he was prompting her to speak.

Robin’s tongue came unstuck, and she peeled it off the roof of her mouth. “How’d you guess?”

He folded his tanned, muscular arms across his chest. His hands, she noticed, were ringless. “It wasn’t a guess.” He feigned a hurt expression. “I get paid to know things. That’s why I’m the sheriff. Besides, you’ve got out-of-state plates, a rental trailer in tow and the doc expected you yesterday.”

“Pretty clever of you,” she replied dryly, taking a step back from all that hunky broad-shouldered masculinity before it gave her the vapors. Good manners kicked in, courtesy of her late aunt. “My name’s Robin Marlowe.”

His grin widened. “See, I was right. Reading clues is part of my job, that and chasing bad guys. There aren’t a lot of those in Waterloo, so I have time to greet newcomers, too.”

“Kind of like a welcoming committee packing heat,” she drawled, her gaze flicking to the imposing holster on his hip.

His eyes widened, but his laugh came easy. “Yes, ma’am, I guess you could say that.”

From inside the clinic, a phone started ringing and a dog began to bark.

“Oh, nuts,” she muttered, turning. “I gotta go.” She didn’t mind the interruption, but instead of ogling Sheriff Tex she should have been looking for the bathroom while she’d had the chance.

“Nice to meet you,” she called automatically over her shoulder as she hurried up the front steps.

“You, too, Doc Marlowe,” the sheriff replied. “My office is right down the street, if you need anything. It’s the one with the bars on the windows.”

She waved, but didn’t look back. “Yeah, thanks. See you.”

Charlie Winchester stroked his chin thoughtfully as he watched her disappear.

“Count on it, sweetheart,” he murmured. For such a little thing, she had legs like a colt—long and fine-boned. And lips a man could settle into like a featherbed, if they were anywhere near as lush as they looked.

Welcoming committee, huh? Checking out the new arrivals was part of his job, even the ones who weren’t cute as pixies and reportedly single like this new little gal. He’d better talk to her again, though, just to make sure she wasn’t really an escaped con or an illegal, impersonating the vet’s new helper in order to commit some nefarious crime in Charlie’s town.

He hadn’t meant to scare her when he’d touched her shoulder, but she’d gone as stiff as a calf stuck in a blizzard. The sight of his badge hadn’t seemed to relax her a bit. Her big brown eyes had stayed wary, without a spark of female awareness to warm them, and her mouth hadn’t softened. Despite the gun at Charlie’s hip, most women saw right away that he was no more threat than a six-foot teddy bear.

From eight months to eighty, he liked women, always had, and they usually liked him right back. Robin hadn’t seemed overly impressed, though, not even by his uniform, tailored and pressed at the local laundry, or his badge. It was something a couple of the local ladies still gushed over, as though they were picturing him wearing the star and not much else. Made a man darned uncomfortable, being looked at like that.

Robin Marlowe had captured his interest. No, his “professional concern,” he corrected himself, even though it was doubtful that Doc Harmon would hire an assistant with outstanding warrants or felonious intentions—even one compact enough for Charlie to easily scoop up and cuddle or whose short haircut exposed earlobes begging to be nibbled.

He hitched up his belt and eyed the clinic. The ringing of the phone had stopped while he stood in the street like a lovesick calf, but the dog’s rhythmic barking kept time with the sound of the new vet’s voice through the open doorway. It had a husky quality that hinted at smoky, dimly lit bars and honky-tonk women.

Curiously Charlie circled her car, a nondescript tan Rabbit with barely legal tires, Illinois plates and a utility trailer hitched behind it. On the back seat of the car rested a hard-sided suitcase like you’d find in a thrift shop, and several cardboard cartons. One was open and held books, probably veterinary tomes. The other boxes were taped shut. Behind the front seat was a pair of high rubber boots that looked new, an electric fan that didn’t, a coffeemaker and a cheap toaster, cords all neatly coiled. On the front passenger seat were an empty water bottle, two candy wrappers and a Colorado road map that had been refolded in correctly. Some kind of crystal dangled from the rearview mirror, its faceted surfaces sparkling in the sun light.

Charlie debated whether to go inside and ask her a few more questions, maybe see if she’d be interested in dinner or help in finding a place to stay, but the cell phone clipped to his belt chose that moment to claim his attention. Filing away his first impressions of Waterloo’s newest resident, he checked to see if a crime wave had just hit town.

Robin had been watching Sheriff Winchester through the front window of the clinic as she tried to explain to a suspicious-sounding older woman why she was answering Doc Harmon’s phone and not his “regular girl.”

“I don’t know where Erline is today,” Robin said for the third time, explaining again who she was and what had happened to the real vet. The term hadn’t exactly endeared the caller to Robin, but she resisted the urge to tell the old bat she had duct-taped the “real vet” and stuffed him in the supply closet just so she could have the thrill of this phone call. Curbing her tongue wasn’t easy, especially when the pressure in her bladder increased with each word.

By the time she’d taken a message and glanced outside, the sheriff had disappeared. After she’d found the bathroom and made use of it with a groan of relief, she did a bit of exploring.

The clinic was small but complete. In addition to the reception area, there were two examining rooms, a well-equipped surgery, a small lab and a supply room. Its only current occupant was the dog, a black lab mix with a bandaged leg, sitting in a roomy crate. When he saw Robin, his tail wagged, but he stopped barking and began whining instead. He wiggled so hard the cage shook. After she’d made sure he had water, she let him lick her fingers and she scratched his chin while he squeezed his dark eyes shut in obvious pleasure.

Typical male, she thought with a grin. Noisy and easy to satisfy.

As if she knew anything about satisfying a male, or wanted to. Her grin faded as fast as it had appeared.

Despite her fatigue, she was eager to get settled and start working. Doc Harmon had promised to find her a rental she could afford, but she didn’t have an ad dress, and of course she couldn’t leave until he got back. There wasn’t anything she could really do here until he showed her around, and she was hesitant to poke through his files, so she went back to the reception area and sat down at the big desk. There was a phone with two lines, thankfully silent, but no computer, which didn’t surprise her. With a sigh she started flipping idly through the open appointment book. Nothing scheduled until late afternoon and no telling how long Erline would be out sick, so she might as well get familiar with the setup.

Charlie didn’t need to follow the faint track through the grass to find the pasture where the two owners of the Running W had said they’d meet him. The land was as familiar as the face he saw in the mirror, and the men nearly so. He’d spent his youth on the Running W, chasing after his older brothers, Adam and Travis, and working beside them.

Topping a rise, Charlie spotted them standing with the vet near their rigs and several mounds that appeared to be sleeping cattle.

A chill went through Charlie. His hands tightened on the wheel of his Jeep as he struggled to replace a rancher’s sick dismay with the objectivity of a lawman.

No one had been more surprised than Charlie when he’d beaten out a bully and a green kid to win the election ten months before, and not everyone was happy about it, considering his reputation as a skirt-chasing lightweight who’d been riding along on his brothers’ coattails. He’d discovered a knack for the job, equal parts politician, paper pusher and crime solver, but he knew convincing his detractors would take time.

Whether chasing a woman or a criminal, Charlie was a patient man.

“Hey, bro, thanks for coming out,” Adam said after he’d parked next to the ranch pickup and joined the other three men.

“No problem.” Briefly, Charlie clasped the hand Adam extended. Charlie had sold out his share of the ranch to his brothers, but they’d all remained close. Today’s summons was no surprise; Charlie would have been upset if they hadn’t called.

“How you doing?” he asked Travis, whose grim expression matched Adam’s.

“I’ve been better,” Travis replied around the stalk of grass stuck in the corner of his mouth. “Dead cattle’s a bad business.”

“That’s for sure. What happened?” Charlie looked from him to the vet, who’d been bent over a dun-colored steer with his black leather bag open beside him. Five other carcasses were scattered nearby.

The old vet packed up the specimens he’d been collecting. “I’ll know for sure when we hear back from the lab,” he said by way of greeting as he got to his feet, “but it looks pretty obvious to me what happened.”

The sick feeling Charlie had been trying to blot out came flooding back. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Doc Harmon glanced at Adam. “Show him what you found.”

Adam held up a bag Charlie hadn’t noticed before. “This was mixed in with some feed we found scattered nearby.”

Charlie glanced at the printing on the bag. It was a common brand. “Have any idea how it got out here?” he asked.

A muscle flexed along Adam’s jaw as he shook his head. “It’s the same kind we keep in the shed,” he replied. “I’ll have to check and see if it came from there, but everyone who works here knows better than to leave rat poison anywhere near the stock.”

The vet cleared his throat. When Charlie glanced at him, he said, “Looks deliberate to me. Maybe you’d better ask your brothers if they’ve made any enemies lately.”

When she heard a vehicle pull up outside, Robin set aside the three-month-old magazine she’d been reading and went to the window. Once in a while a car went by and she’d had several calls; no one had come into the clinic. Even the dog in the back was asleep.

She recognized the SUV, relieved Doc Harmon had returned. She had a lot of questions, a couple of them being whether she had anywhere to sleep tonight—or a job tomorrow. As she continued to watch through the window, he got out of his car, grabbed his bag and walked over to the olive-green Cherokee that had pulled in behind him. It had a gold star painted on the door and an official-looking row of lights on top. Through the back window she could see a rifle rack, and it wasn’t empty.

Robin couldn’t hear what they were saying and the vet’s back was to her as he leaned forward, but the smile Sheriff Winchester had worn earlier was noticeably absent. After a couple more moments, Doc Harmon straightened up.

The sheriff glanced at the clinic window and Robin moved away so he wouldn’t see her spying on them and get the wrong idea. By the time her boss came through the front door, she was standing behind the counter trying to look indispensable.

“Everything okay?” she asked innocently as the dog in the back room began barking again.

“Some days I really dislike this job.” He set his bag on the counter, looking tired. “How did you get on? Any emergencies?”

Robin told him about a couple of the calls she’d taken. “Nothing urgent,” she concluded. “I told them Erline would get back to them. Do you know when she’ll be in?”

“Tomorrow, I hope. Thanks for covering.”

“It doesn’t sound like things went well at the Winchesters’ spread,” she asked, prompted by both professional interest and personal curiosity. She’d mentally reviewed her brief encounter with the sheriff several times, wondering if her abrupt dash into the clinic had made her seem unfriendly, and then telling herself it didn’t matter what he thought as long as it didn’t affect her professionally.

The vet picked up his messages, but she had the impression that he wasn’t really looking at them. “Half a dozen dead cattle at the biggest ranch in these parts,” he said finally. “One of the hands found them this morning.”

Robin could understand his reaction. This was cattle country. A contagious disease could endanger an entire herd if it wasn’t treated in time. No wonder he looked worried. “Were you able to make a diagnosis?” she asked.

He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “It looks like someone tainted their feed with rodent poison. The sheriff is looking into it.”

“The sheriff?” Robin echoed.

Doc Harmon nodded. “Cattle will eat damn near anything. Ranchers don’t leave poison around for them to get into.”

“So it was deliberate?” Robin asked. “Why would anyone do that?”

He shrugged. “Everyone has enemies.”

“Is there some kind of range war going on around here?” she probed.

His smile was fleeting. “This isn’t the Old West, my girl, but bad things still happen. Could be an unhappy ex-employee or an envious neighbor. Those boys have worked hard, and they’ve done well. I even heard a rumor that they’d had an offer for their land.”

He glanced around the office. “Did you get a chance to explore?”

Robin would have liked to ask more about the Winchesters, but she didn’t want to push. “A little.” She clasped her hands together and took a deep breath. “I know you expected me to get here yesterday, but I had car trouble. I should have let you know.” Before she could add anything more, anxiety closed around her throat like a noose, choking off her voice.

All Doc Harmon did was shrug again. “I was out most of the day and we’ve been having trouble with the answering machine, anyway. It’s nice you were here to get the phone today, though, so no one started thinking I’d died or retired.”

He glanced out the window as she nearly went limp with relief. “Car running okay now? You’ll need something reliable, you know.”

Her gaze followed his to where the sorry little coupe sat baking in the sun. “Oh, yes, it’s fine,” she assured him. “I guess I just expected too much, towing a trailer full of all my worldly goods.”

The doc glanced at the messages again and then he set them on the counter. “Speaking of which, I rented you a little house at the edge of town. If the bar down the street from it is too noisy, you can look for something else, but there’s not much of a choice right in town.”

Especially in my price range, she added silently. “I’m sure it will be fine. Thank you for going to the trouble.” She was trying to figure out how she could possibly ask for an advance when he pulled open a drawer in the battered desk.

“No trouble. Figured you might need to get a few things.” He thrust a check at her.

Robin stared speechlessly at the amount. She’d been on her own for so long, counting on no one but herself, that she was blindsided by his gesture. She ducked her head, her eyes filling with tears that she barely managed to blink away before they ran down her cheeks. She had to be more tired than she’d realized to get so emotional.

“Thank you.” She looked up. “I can use this.”

The crusty expression relaxed for a moment. “You’ll earn it,” he said gruffly. “I’m an ogre to work for. Ask anyone.”

Somehow she doubted that very much. For one of the few times she could remember since her aunt had died, the hard knot of tension in Robin’s chest eased up. When she’d been sending out résumés, she’d almost decided not to answer his ad, figuring an old geezer in a small town surrounded by cattle ranches would never consider hiring a woman as his assistant. “You don’t scare me,” she replied somberly.

“We’ll see about that.” Chuckling, he glanced at the plain round wall clock above the door. “I can manage for now. Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon to get settled? Open a bank account, get some groceries. I’ve got the key to your place here somewhere.” He fished around in the drawer while Robin folded the check he’d given her and tucked it into her pocket.

“Are you sure? I can stay, if you need me.”

He handed her a brass key. “The lights and water are hooked up, and I had your phone connected.”

“What do I owe you?” she asked. “Didn’t you have to pay deposits on the utilities?”

This time his laugh was more of a cackle. “This ain’t Chicago, Doctor. All I did was to tell them you were coming to work for me. And this way, people can start calling you in the middle of the night ’stead of me when their prize stud gets a sliver in his arse.”

She wondered how long it would be before anyone around here actually did request her services, rather than merely tolerate her whenever the “real” vet was otherwise occupied. “Can you give me directions to my house?” she asked after she’d thanked him again.

The words my house danced on Robin’s tongue. Since moving out of Aunt Dot’s, she’d lived in college dorms and rundown apartments with an assortment of roommates to keep the rent low, but she’d never had a place to really call her own. She was determined to make this a real home, despite it being another rental and no matter what the condition.

“I’ll draw you a map.” He grabbed a scratch pad. “It’s not hard to find. Nothing in this town is, but you’ll get lost a few times heading out on calls, so you’ll need this, too.” He handed her a cell phone. “You pay for your personal calls.”

She swallowed. “I don’t have anyone to call.”

His eyes narrowed. “No family?”

“My aunt died while I was in college.” She braced herself for more questions, but he didn’t ask them. Despite all the help he’d given her, she was an employee and that was all, she reminded herself. Her life story wouldn’t interest him.

Except for that one time at veterinary school, which she made a point never to think about, her life was pretty darned boring. Just the way she liked it.

He drew three intersecting lines on the paper and made two X’s. “You’re here,” he said, pointing an one X with the pencil. “Go five blocks to Aspen and take a right. Turn left on the next street, Nugget, and look for a little house painted yellow, number 505. Can’t miss it.”

Robin started to thank him again. “Dr. Harmon—”

“Call me that, people will get me mixed up with the medic, Dr. Nash. I’m just plain old Doc.” He cocked his head to the side, considering. “Don’t suppose I can call you Birdy. Kind of a clever nickname, don’t you think?”

“No,” she replied firmly. “No way.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t think so. Okay, you scat, before something comes up. See you in the morning, at eight sharp. You got my number if you need anything before then.”

Robin hesitated, but the phone rang and he reached for it. She waited to see if he’d want her to stay, after all, but he waved her off before turning his back.

She didn’t need to be told twice, so she hurried out the door before he could change his mind. To her relief, her car started right away. As she drove down the street, following his crude map, she tried not to get her hopes up about the house. It was probably a dump.

When she passed the sheriff’s office, she kept her head turned straight, not wanting to be caught looking for him. He wasn’t for her, she reminded herself. No man was.

Chapter Two

“Hi, sweetheart. How ’bout bringing me a steak sandwich and a longneck?” Charlie gave the waitress a quick smile as he settled himself onto a bar stool.

“Sure, boss. As long as you’re off duty,” she replied in a throaty voice. “I wouldn’t want to break the law.”

He patted his shirt pocket. “I’m not wearing my badge, Rita. You won’t get in any trouble.” With her black hair and dark, liquid eyes, Rita was an attractive woman—especially when she sucked in her breath so her generous curves strained against the fabric of her low-cut knit top as she was doing now.

If he didn’t have a rule against dating his employees, Charlie might have taken a run at her. When he pursued a woman, he didn’t want to wonder if she was genuinely attracted to him or just worried about keeping her job, especially a single mother like Rita.

“Fries with that or salad?” she asked, tossing back her hair to give him an enticing view of her throat.

He grinned his appreciation of her assets. “How about both, with ranch on the side?”

“Sure thing. Be right back.”

After she’d gotten his beer, sent him a last regretful glance from beneath a fringe of thick lashes and swaggered off to give his sandwich order to the cook, Charlie glanced around the room. There were people sitting at three tables and two men in hard hats at the other end of the bar watching soccer on the overhead television. Not bad for a weekday, especially this early in the evening.

“You singing tonight, Sheriff?” called out an older woman seated with her husband.

“’Fraid not, Maxine.” He touched two fingers to the brim of his Stetson. “My second job’s keeping me hopping, but I’ll be here on Friday. Maybe you can get Fred to bring you back then.”

She looked over her shoulder at her husband. “That’s my birthday. We’ll be here.”

Charlie toasted her with his beer bottle. “And I’ll be singing just for you, darlin’.”

She laughed, but her cheeks turned pink. “I’ll hold you to it.” Her husband leaned forward to whisper in her ear, and Charlie swiveled back around as Rita brought his salad. From ranching to the restaurant business and part-time lounge singer to law enforcement. Life was a hell of a ride.

“How are the boys?” he asked Rita.

She set down his silverware and dish of ranch dressing. “They’re crazy about the toy trucks you gave them. Thanks, honey.”

“No problem.” He knew her ex rarely sent money, and his nephews had more toys than they could ever use. When he’d mentioned the waitress to Rory and Emily, his brothers’ wives, their youngest kids had gone through their toy chests.

“You bat those pretty eyes at the guys sitting at the other end of the bar, should double your tips,” he suggested to Rita.

The touch of her hand on his shoulder was fleeting, her voice soft in his ear. “Enjoy your salad.”

A few moments later, after she’d brought the rest of his meal and he’d devoured half the sandwich while he’d mulled over his workday, a burst of laughter distracted him. Rita had followed his suggestion and was talking to the construction workers.

She’d be okay. This was a respectable bar, and she knew how to take care of herself.

Charlie turned back to his food, but eating alone had lost its appeal. Everyone in town knew him, and he knew most of them. His older brothers were his closest friends. He liked their wives, adored their children and was welcome anytime. It was a welcome he was careful not to wear out.

The sound of Rita’s laughter reminded him of the woman he’d met earlier, Robin Marlowe, even though the two appeared to be polar opposites. If Dr. Marlowe had found him attractive, she’d hidden it well. If she hadn’t rushed off, he might have invited her to dinner just to see her reaction.

Maybe he’d have to buy himself a dog, one that would need vaccinations at the local clinic.

Robin was unpacking the last of her aunt’s dishes and putting them into the kitchen cupboard when a knock at the back door nearly caused her to drop a dinner plate adorned with fat pink roses. She set it carefully down on the counter and ran a hand through her short hair. She’d only met two people so far, her boss and the sheriff. This was a small town, not Chicago, so perhaps one of them had come by to check on her.

Nerves fluttered in her chest. She was almost relieved when she peeked through the window and saw an elderly couple standing on the side porch. They looked harmless.

Robin flipped the lock and opened the door. The woman, a little bird of a thing with fluffy white hair and wire-rimmed glasses, was holding a pie with a flaky, golden crust. The man behind her wore coveralls and a Broncos baseball cap. His scraggly gray hair needed trimming.

“I’m Mae Simms and this is my husband, Ed,” the woman said quickly. “We don’t mean to intrude, but we wanted to say hello and to give you this.” She thrust the pie into Robin’s hands. “Welcome to Waterloo.”

Her offering smelled fantastic. As Robin’s stomach growled softly, she realized that she hadn’t eaten in hours.

“Thank you,” she said. Would they think her unfriendly if she didn’t invite them in? She had so much to do, and she was tired. “I’m Robin. I was just unpacking.”

“Oh, we know who you are, honey,” the woman replied. “We live right next door in the blue house. You’re renting this place from us.”

“Ah.” Robin wasn’t sure what else to say. Their visit was the type of gesture her aunt would have made under similar circumstances. The thought warmed her. Balancing the pie, she nudged the door open wider with her elbow. “Would you like to come in? I’ve already unpacked my coffeemaker and some mugs. I’m sure I could find the coffee.”

“Oh, no, dear.” Mae was already backing away. She nudged Ed, who hadn’t said a word. “You have things to do, I’m sure, and we’re going for our walk.” Reaching into the pocket of the purple nylon jacket she wore with matching pants, she pulled out a folded paper.

“Here’s our phone number, just in case.” She set it lightly on top of the pie. “If there’s anything you need, give us a call.”

Robin raised up the pan she was holding. The bottom was still warm. “Thank you again. I can’t wait to sample this.”

“She’s won lots of ribbons at the fair.” Ed’s voice sounded rusty, as though he didn’t use it much. “They cover most of one wall in the dining room.”

“Never mind that,” Mae scolded as she herded him off the porch like a border collie with a not-too-bright sheep. “Bye, now,” she called back over her shoulder.

“Bye.” Robin glanced past them at the neat blue house next door, separated from hers by a freshly painted white picket fence. The lots on this street were big, so the older, mostly small houses weren’t jammed close together.

After her visitors had walked down the driveway, hand in hand, she set the pie on the table that had come with the rental and relocked the door. She’d have to see about a dead bolt. It would make her feel more secure.

Mouth watering, she rustled around until she found a fork. When she cut through the flaky crust, peach filling oozed up like liquid gold. She ate the first serving right from the pan.

With her hunger blunted, she fixed herself a cup of tea. While the water heated, she cut another generous slice of pie and set it on a plate. She’d be having it again for breakfast if she didn’t get to the grocery store tonight. She should have asked Mae where it was, but the town only had one main street, so she doubted she’d get lost.

While the tea brewed, Robin looked around her with a sigh of satisfaction. The house was small, the furniture as outdated as the walnut cabinets and dark green counter, but it was clean and cozy. She would add her own touches: candles, knickknacks, pictures for the walls and pretty kitchen towels to replace the faded ones she’d brought with her.

The teddy bear cookie jar sitting on the counter caught her eye, and she blinked back sudden tears. That, the dishes and a few other keepsakes were all she had from Aunt Dot. Robin’s cousin and his wife had kept everything else.

She lifted the mug of hot tea to her lips and was about to take a sip when she heard footsteps on the porch. The figure of a man appeared in the glass of the back door. Fear shot through Robin and then she recognized the sheriff. With a jerky movement that slopped hot tea onto her fingers, she set down the mug and got to her feet. She hoped he wasn’t going to make a habit of startling her.

Apparently, no one used the front porch. If she wanted any privacy, she’d have to cover the window in the side door. The sheriff peered through it as she crossed the kitchen.

“Is there a problem, Sheriff?” she asked as she opened the door, wondering belatedly whether her face was smudged with newsprint from unwrapping her dishes. Funny, she hadn’t thought of that when the older couple had come by.

In the confines of the covered porch, the sheriff seemed bigger and bulkier than he’d appeared on the open street. The brim of his hat shadowed his expression. “It’s only a problem if that’s your car parked in the driveway,” he replied with a serious expression.

“You know it is,” she snapped. “You saw it earlier. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to change the plates. How long do I have?”

He looked at the car and then back at her. “I’m not here about the plates. I was driving by, and I noticed that the tire is flat.”

“Oh, no!” She tried to push past him, but he was as solid as a mountain and nearly as immovable.

“Whoa, there.” Lightly he caught her shoulders. “Don’t panic. I can change it for you.”

She caught a whiff of masculine cologne before she twisted away from his touch. “That’s not necessary. I can take care of myself.” Realizing how shrill and ungrateful she must sound, she dragged in a steadying breath and met his puzzled gaze. “Thank you for your offer,” she said more quietly, “and for stopping to tell me about it, but I can manage on my own.”

Damn, but she hoped the spare hadn’t gone flat. The last thing she wanted was for the sheriff to notice if it had and to think her incompetent. No, the last thing she wanted was for him to do her a favor and for her to owe him.

“Are you sure?” His dark eyes studied her for a moment, and then he glanced past her into the kitchen where a pile of partially unpacked boxes sat on the floor. “Looks like you’ve got enough to do right here. I wouldn’t mistake you for a helpless female, not this one time.”

Feeling embarrassed and invaded, Robin shifted her body in a futile attempt to block his view. He was tall enough to look over the top of her head if he’d wanted to, but he must have noticed her gesture and interpreted it correctly, because he half turned so he was looking out at the street.

His profile, despite the broken nose, was perfectly chiseled. Not that she noticed.

“I’m fine.” Ignoring his jab, she gripped the edge of the door with one hand, ready to shut it. “Thanks again for stopping.”

He glanced at her as though he was going to say something else, but her expression must have convinced him not to bother. He stepped off the porch instead.

“Okay, then,” he said. “You take care.”

Resisting the urge to watch him walk away, Robin shut the door resolutely. Then she sneaked into the living room, waiting for him to leave so she could deal with the tire. As she stood well back from the window, arms folded across her chest, he got back into the Cherokee and backed onto the street. Her breath stopped in her throat as he stared straight up at the spot where she stood. She was sure he couldn’t see her through the lace curtains, but he raised two fingers to the brim of his hat in a mocking salute before he drove away.

Robin’s arms tightened around her middle. She couldn’t have been more irritated if he’d blown her a kiss. Why couldn’t he be old and fat? If she intended to build a successful practice in Waterloo, she had to get along with people. Even if someone tried to make her feel embarrassed for standing in her own house and looking out her own window!

Before he drove to the corner, Charlie regretted his childish impulse. When he’d seen her figure backlit in the front window, he hadn’t been able to resist letting her know he’d seen her. Especially after her lack of gratitude when he’d taken the trouble to stop and offer to change the tire.

His dented male ego urged him to forget about the prickly new vet. Either she wasn’t interested or she liked playing hard to get, but either way, he didn’t need the aggravation.

Charlie wasn’t so conceited that he expected every woman in town to fall at his feet—even though more than a few of them had. Ever since grade school, he’d been popular with the opposite sex. Unfortunately, in the short time he’d been sheriff he’d come up against that same brittle shell Dr. Robin Marlowe wore on a couple of different occasions. Both of the other women had been victims in one way or another, one raped by a stranger and the other abused by her husband.

Charlie’s fingers tightened on the wheel as he remembered the two women, one hardly more than a girl and the other looking older than she should. Bullies sickened him.

Robin aroused his curiosity, both professional and personal. Was she a victim, too, or was she just in different to the Winchester charm?

Either way, it was nice she had Mae Simms living right next door. Mae had been Charlie’s teacher the year his mother ran off. He’d hurt too much to actually confide in her, but she’d gone out of her way to be kind to him and he’d never forgotten it. She and Ed would look out for their new neighbor, no matter how prickly Robin turned out to be.

Charlie sat at the four-way stop, trying to figure out the best way to approach Robin again. He was about to remove his foot from the brake pedal when a black Honda ran the stop sign on the cross street, nearly removing the front bumper on Charlie’s Jeep. He got a quick glimpse of four boys in baseball caps as the car sped by, and he wondered how the hell they could have missed seeing his official vehicle with its rack of lights on top, as noticeable as an elephant wearing a diamond tiara.

Damn it. He was supposed to be off-duty. Slapping the steering wheel with the flat of his hand as he glanced both ways, Charlie hit the lights and siren. He rounded the corner and stomped on the gas in hot pursuit, laying a nice patch of rubber as he radioed his location to dispatch.

Robin had already walked outside to deal with her flat tire when she heard the police siren slice through the early evening peace like a cleaver through a cube of butter.

“Hotshot show-off,” she muttered under her breath. No doubt Sheriff Winchester enjoyed flashing that tin star, throwing his weight around and playing with guns.

The last thought made her shiver. She didn’t like guns. They made her nervous. She’d grown up in Chicago and she respected the police, but Sheriff Tex was almost too handsome, with matching dimples and an ah-shucks drawl meant to melt women like overheated candle wax.

Good thing Robin was immune to that type of macho charm, or concern for his safety might distract her. The sound of the siren had faded by the time she’d managed to confirm that her spare actually had air. She was trying to make sense of the diagram she found with it when Ed Simms walked up.

“Let me do that for you,” he said, extending his hand for the jack.

With a sigh of mingled defeat and relief, Robin handed it over.

“I want you to come with me out to Winchesters’ spread,” Doc Harmon told her the next morning after he’d ended his phone call.

Since Robin had arrived at the clinic, coffee in hand, she’d met Erline, found out where the supplies were kept and learned how to write up a bill for her time.

“Have they found more dead cattle?” she asked.

“Not as far as I know, but one of Adam’s Appaloosa colts took a spill. He’s like an overprotective mama with his Appies, and he wants the colt’s leg checked out.”

Robin glanced at Erline, who was sitting behind the desk filing her nails. She appeared to be fond of bubble gum and low-cut blouses, but she’d introduced herself with a friendly grin and she seemed competent, even though she’d admitted to a phobia toward reptiles.

“I couldn’t work for a vet who treated snakes,” she’d confided after she’d shown Robin how to write up an invoice for prescription pet food. “I’d quit on the spot.”

“Guess that answers my question on how to get rid of you if the need arises,” Doc Harmon had interjected dryly.

From the way Erline stuck out her tongue, Robin figured her co-workers enjoyed taunting each other.

“I wouldn’t go anywhere with him if I were you,” Erline said now as she put away her nail file. “Not since they came out with those little blue pills.”

Robin’s cheeks went hot with embarrassment, but the doc merely gave his receptionist a pained look. “I should sue you for sexual harassment.”

Erline huffed loudly. “Save yourself the attorney fee and just give me a raise, instead.”

The phone on her desk rang before he could reply. With a wink at Robin, Erline pushed the flashing button and picked up the receiver.

“Harmon Veterinary Clinic. How can I help you?”

Doc Harmon’s expression turned serious. “On occasion you and I will be working closely together,” he told Robin in a low voice. “I hope you don’t have a problem with that.”

She could feel her blush deepen. “Of course not. I came here to get experience treating livestock. I’ll do my best to keep my hands off you.”

For a moment his weathered face went blank with surprise, making her afraid she’d gone too far. Then he began to laugh.

“What did I miss?” Erline demanded after she’d written down an appointment in her book and ended her call. “What, what?”

“Nothing,” Robin and the doc answered in unison.

“You’ll do fine,” he told her, still grinning. “Let’s get going.”

Charlie had spent the better part of the morning driving out past his brothers’ ranch to check out a complaint about graffiti sprayed on the side of John Keller’s barn. Ten minutes spent talking to the oldest son had solved the crime, saved Charlie a mound of paperwork and earned the boy a week’s house arrest—and that was after he painted over his artwork.

The day was hot and still, the temperature high even for the end of July, and a cold soda sounded like a heck of a great idea. As he drove through the open gate to the ranch, barely glancing at the neatly painted wood sign, he chuckled at the thought of the Keller boy’s expression when Charlie had confronted him with the spray can hidden in his room. The boy had gone pale, his freckles standing out like rust spots on his guilty face.

Charlie slowed the Cherokee as he drove past the two-story ranch house where Travis lived with his red-haired wife and their four children. As usual, the wide front porch was hung with baskets of brightly-colored flowers, but today the backyard swings and wading pool were empty. Rory’s van was gone, too. No point in stopping.

Young Keller’s misdeed reminded Charlie of some of the stunts he and his brothers had pulled as kids, but his grin faded at the memory of their father’s wrath and the punishments he gave. Jason had gotten off easy today, apparently unaware of worse consequences than repainting and restriction for childish pranks. Garth Winchester hadn’t believed in sparing the rod, the belt or his fists.

The sight of Adam’s black pickup parked by the door to the stable was a welcome distraction, as was the idea of a cold soda from the tack room fridge. That and asking if any more dead cattle had been found were reasons enough to stop by, if Charlie had needed a reason.

When he walked into the cool, dim interior of the broodmare barn, he spotted Adam and his stepson, David, home on summer break from college. Both men were watching an Appaloosa dam and her offspring in one of the roomy stalls.

“Don’t you two have any real work to do?” Char lie asked as he joined them. “I thought the Appies were supposed to be a hobby.”

“Not for several years now.” Adam hadn’t taken his attention from the leopard-spotted colt in the stall with his mother. “Can’t get rich raising cattle in this market.”

Charlie knew the industry had been depressed for years. Only careful management kept many of the lo cal ranches from going under. Even an operation as large as theirs felt the pinch.

“What’s new?” he asked David as a greeting. “Still seeing that Parker girl?”

David shrugged. His lean frame had filled out some in the last year. When he’d first come to Colorado with his mother from L.A. half a decade ago, his hair was orange, his clothes were bizarre and he’d sported a chip on his shoulder the size of a cow pie. Now he looked more like a local to Charlie than some of the kids who’d been born here.

“Joey and I aren’t serious,” David replied, tugging on the brim of his ball cap. “We’ll probably break up before I go back to school.”

“You sound like your uncle,” Adam remarked as he finally turned his back on the horses. “Love-’em-and-leave-’em Winchester.”

“Give the kid some time,” Charlie said. “He’s barely old enough to drink without getting busted, and he hasn’t finished college yet. The last thing he needs to think about is getting serious about some girl looking for a ring.”

Adam gave his stepson a playful thump on the shoulder. The two of them were the same height now, over six feet tall. “Your uncle’s just not ready to give up the title.”

“Not true.” Charlie ducked into the tack room and helped himself to a soda. “If I could find a woman like your wife, I’d get hitched in a minute.”

“Took me two tries to get it right, though,” Adam reminded him before turning to David. “You should finish school before you decide to start a family.”

If Adam had followed his own advice, he wouldn’t have a daughter, Charlie thought as he downed half the soda in one swallow, but he didn’t mention Kim. For the first fifteen years of her life, after her parents’ divorce, she had lived here with her father. Then Kim had surprised everyone by going with her mother when she moved from Denver to Seattle.

“Don’t worry about me.” David looked uncomfortable. “I’m staying single.”

Charlie figured it was time to show the boy a little mercy. “Have you had a chance to find out if that rat poison we found came from the shed or not?” he asked his brother.

Adam’s grin faded. “Every sack’s accounted for and none of the boys have noticed anything unusual. Whoever’s responsible brought the poison with them. Any news on your end?”

Charlie wished he had some easy answers. “No reports of stock dying under suspicious circumstances.” He rolled his shoulders to loosen the sudden tension gripping them. “I hate to say it, bro, but it’s beginning to look like someone may not like you much. Have you had any problems with the help? Pissed someone off? Fired them?”

“You know this isn’t the season for letting guys go.” Adam traced a pattern in the wood along the top of the stall door. “We’re always shorthanded until after haying and the fall roundup.”

“What about that fellow from Texas you caught drinking?” David asked as he sat down on a hay bale. “He was pretty unhappy when you cut him loose.”

“That was a while ago.” Adam frowned. “I heard he went back home, somewhere down near Dallas.”

Charlie took a notebook from his pocket. “What’s his name?” he asked, pen poised. “I’ll check him out, see if he’s still hanging around.”

Through the open stable door came the sound of a vehicle pulling up, followed a couple of moments later by the thumps of car doors shutting.

David got to his feet, and Charlie finished writing down the fired cowhand’s name, Mickey Barstowe.

“Expecting anyone?” he asked as he put away the notebook and pen.

“Just Doc Harmon coming to check out Joker here. He took a spill yesterday, and his leg’s a little hot.”

At the mention of the vet, Charlie looked around hopefully. Sure enough, following the doc through the stable doorway was his new assistant. Both of them carried leather bags.

“Is this what our tax dollars pay for?” Doc Harmon demanded with a smile. “For you to goof off?”

“You got it,” Charlie replied, glancing at Robin.

The only indication she gave that they’d already met was a small smile.

“Get that tire fixed okay?” Charlie asked her after introductions had been made all around.

Her cheeks turned pink, and she frowned. Moisture beaded her upper lip. “Yes, thank you,” she said, her tone prissy.

Charlie nearly chuckled out loud. She’d be fun to tease, as long as he didn’t upset her too much. She was too uptight.

“Change the tire yourself?” her boss asked when she didn’t elaborate.

Her chin went up in a gesture Charlie recognized as purely defensive. “Actually, my neighbor changed it for me.” It was easy to see from her glance at Charlie that the admission was hard to spit out. The woman sure came with a lot of prickles, but the sweetest fruit was surrounded by thorns.

Catching her glance, he gave her a deliberate wink before she jerked her attention away. “Always nice to have someone pitch in and help,” he said in as bland a tone as he could muster.

She didn’t answer. After a moment of awkward silence, Adam asked where she was from.

“Chicago,” she replied, looking relieved. “I grew up there.”

“You’re a long way from home,” David observed. He’d straightened up and puffed out his chest. Didn’t the boy realize how obvious he looked, grinning at her with calf’s eyes while he flexed his arms like a damn body builder?

“I wanted to get some experience with large animals,” she explained. “That’s my main interest.”

“Well, let’s look at the colt,” Doc Harmon interrupted before David could ask any more questions. “Has he been limping?”

Charlie stood back and watched as both vets took their time entering the roomy stall and making sure the horses were at ease before they proceeded. Robin’s nervousness seemed to vanish. Even her voice changed, going all husky and soft.

A man could get lost in the sound of it, Charlie thought, even if her appearance was strictly business. She wore a loose-fitting white blouse and long tan pants, despite the heat of the afternoon. Too bad she didn’t dress like the clinic receptionist. There was a woman who knew how to draw a man’s attention, even as she blinded him with color and sparkle. Everything Erline wore was short, tight and bright.

Charlie tried to imagine Robin in that type of getup and failed. It was impossible to guess her shape with the way her clothing fit. Maybe that was the point.

The other four people were busy with the horses, and he knew he’d only make her uncomfortable if he tried to talk to her now. Tipping back his head, he finished off the can of soda.

“I’ll see you all later,” he said to no one in particular after he’d tossed the empty can into a nearby recycling bin. “Duty calls.”

Three male heads turned. Three masculine voices said goodbye. Dr. Marlowe was bent down by the colt. She never even looked up.

“Something else?” Adam asked when Charlie hesitated.

“I hope the little guy’s okay,” Charlie said, staring at the back of Robin’s head. Her short hair was as dark as a crow’s and as shiny as the paint on a new Mercedes.

Adam gave him a puzzled look. “Thanks. Keep me up to speed on the other business.”

Other business? Had Adam picked up on Charlie’s interest in the new vet?

His momentary blankness must have shown. “My cattle,” Adam prompted him dryly. “They’re dying, remember?”

“Sure thing,” Charlie stuttered. “I’ll let you know.” He didn’t dare risk another glance at Robin to see if she’d been listening to the awkward exchange. Before his oldest brother, as sharp as the rowel on a new spur and twice as scary as any bad guy, could figure out the reason Charlie had been distracted, he turned and fled.

Chapter Three

Robin pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine. She’d been on the go since six that morning, blowing out the side door with a bagel in one hand, accompanying Doc Harmon on a call first thing, assisting him in surgery back at the clinic to set a dog’s shattered leg and then vaccinating a litter of kittens. In the afternoon, with a map and Erline’s written instructions on the seat next to her bag, she’d made two calls on her own.

Robin frowned as her grip on the wheel tightened. She made herself glance down at the small basket of plump ripe tomatoes given to her by a grateful patient. After she’d treated the eye of an old pony with conjunctivitis, his equally ancient but much nicer owner had presented Robin with the fresh-picked tomatoes.

“Jethro usually bites Doc Harmon,” the woman added, which explained why he’d sent Robin this time.

“I’m quicker on my feet than my boss,” she’d replied with a wink that had earned a cackle of laughter.

Mrs. Sloan’s thanks had still been echoing in her ears when she’d arrived at her next stop, feeling cocky and confident, to check on a gelding with a persistent cough.

“I asked for Doc Harmon,” the rancher had snarled after she’d introduced herself and stuck out her hand. “Go back and tell him not to send a girl to do a man’s job.” After spitting a stream of tobacco that landed an inch from her shoe, he’d stalked away, leaving her stunned and speechless.

Robin wasn’t given to tears, but her eyes had been burning when she’d let herself back out the gate. She’d figured that convincing people to trust her with their livestock might take time, given her lack of experience. Her advisor had even suggested that a shrimp like her would be better off specializing in cats or exotic birds.

What Robin hadn’t expected, had not been prepared for at all, was such open rudeness, such bristling hostility, because she was a female.

She’d spent most of the drive back to town thinking of all the replies she could have made but hadn’t. Even if her chance of prying open his closed mind was zero, zilch, nada, she should have tried.

Now Robin got out of her car, too tired to contemplate the possible number of chauvinists in Elbert County, and walked back down the driveway to check her mail.

Before she got to the box at the curb, Mae came out her front door. “You didn’t get anything today,” she called.

“I beg your pardon?” Automatically, Robin looked into the mailbox lined up with those of her neighbors. Sure enough, it was empty.

Mae came around the end of the picket fence between their two houses carrying a plate covered with plastic wrap. Today her crinkled nylon jogging suit was fluorescent pink.

“I would have left your mail on your side porch when I got ours,” she said. “Did you put in a change of address? You know it takes a few days to go through.”

Robin wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to be rude, but neither did she like having her privacy invaded. Clearly she needed to establish boundaries before things got out of hand.

“Don’t feel bad, dear,” Mae continued. “Your friends probably don’t have your new address yet, but you’ll be hearing from them before you know it.”

Robin couldn’t think of anyone who’d contact her, unless it was about some bill she’d overlooked when she left Chicago. She’d kept to herself and with good reason. Did pariahs have friends?

Mae was studying Robin through her thick lenses. “Long day, huh? Ed was up early, and he saw you leave this morning. You look washed-out. A little blusher would give your cheeks some color.”

“Is that so?” Robin managed, feeling slightly overwhelmed. She didn’t bother to explain that she never wore makeup anymore. Mae might ask why not. Her own bright cheeks were a testament to the power of cosmetics.

“You know a bagel isn’t enough breakfast, if that’s the only thing you had,” Mae went on in a scolding tone. She held out the plate she’d been carrying. “Here’s some chicken salad for your dinner. I made extra. You shouldn’t eat a heavy meal too close to your bedtime.”

Robin looked down at the nicely arranged slices of chicken breast and tomato on a bed of crisp lettuce. A little cup of dressing was tucked next to a hardboiled egg cut in wedges and sprinkled lightly with paprika.

Her mouth began to water. Lunch had been half a peanut butter sandwich eaten on the run. How could she accept the salad and then tell her obviously well-intentioned neighbor to butt out?

“Thank you.” Robin caved in without a struggle. “It looks wonderful.” She could always set boundaries later.

“Don’t worry about returning the plate,” Mae said as she walked away. “There’s no hurry. And don’t stay up too late. You need your rest so you don’t get sick.”

Robin was never sick, but she made a mental note to close the front curtains later, so the light from her television didn’t shine through the window.

By the time she’d finished the salad, a glass of the sun tea she’d made the day before and a piece of leftover garlic bread she’d found in the refrigerator, she felt as if she just might survive. She tidied the kitchen and flopped down on the couch with a sigh. Grabbing the remote, she switched on a TV game show, but she couldn’t concentrate. Instead she went back over her boss’s reaction to the message Robin had relayed from Elmer Babcock.

Doc Harmon had merely shaken his head dismissively. “Don’t worry about it,” he’d said. “The man’s head is like a four-fingered bowling ball, solid as a rock and with too many holes.”

Erline had snorted loudly at his quip, but Robin barely managed a smile.

“It was probably my fault for not warning you,” he’d added with a paternal pat on her shoulder. “We’ll bide our time. Sooner or later the old coot will need you more than you need him.”

At least he hadn’t suggested she not go back.

Now Robin switched channels restlessly and then turned off the TV. Running into the reality of that kind of gender bias hurt more than she would have figured. Especially after the warm welcome she’d received from people like Adam Winchester.

Both he and David, the younger man she thought must be Adam’s son, had seemed genuinely pleased to meet her. They were both rugged, attractive males, something she could appreciate in a totally platonic way. David had even offered to show her around the area when she had time, but she’d been so busy examining her patient, a darling colt with spots like a dalmatian, that she didn’t think she’d even replied. Not that it mattered. She was too old for David to be interested in her. He was just being polite.

She tried to block her mind from thinking about the other brother, the sheriff she’d met before. He was there at the stable when she and Doc arrived, but he’d barely spoken to Robin and he’d left right away.

Not that she’d noticed, of course. Nor had she been disappointed that he hadn’t said goodbye to her, either.

By Friday Robin was actually looking forward to the weekend, even though she loved her job. She’d be on call, which was both exciting and scary.

“You’ve earned a break. Besides, I have paper work to finish on Saturday, so I’ll be here at the clinic most of the day, anyway,” Doc Harmon told her as she was getting ready to leave work. “Go out tonight. Relax, have fun.”

“I’ve got some unpacking left to do.” She pictured the lone box of books sitting in the bedroom.

“Oh, too exciting,” Erline drawled, waving her freshly painted nails to dry them. “How can you stand it?”

Robin ignored her jibe, but Doc Harmon swiveled his head. “And what are you doing this weekend?” he asked the receptionist. “Got a hot date?”

“In this town?” she shot back. “Are you kidding? The men around here are either married or they’re your age. Or both.” She rolled her eyes and fanned herself. “Be still my heart.”

He peered at her over the tops of his glasses while Robin waited expectantly. “Or they’re just too darned picky,” he drawled.

Erline blew a bubble and then she turned her attention to Robin. “My girlfriend Carol and I are going out for dinner and a couple of drinks. Want to come along?”

Robin was about to refuse when Doc spoke up for her. “Good idea. She’ll go.”

Why did everyone she’d met think they had to help run her life? “I have things to do,” she protested.

He raised his eyebrows, his expression stern. “You need to get out, meet people. Bring us more business. Charlie’s Heart is a good place to start.”

“Charlie’s what?” she echoed.

“It’s a restaurant and lounge,” Erline interjected. “Food’s good, and they’ve got live music on the weekends, even though the dance floor’s the size of my desk.”

Oh, great, Robin thought. A bar with music and dancing. Men on the prowl. “I don’t think so.”

Erline ducked her head and pulled open a file drawer. “Your loss.”

“I’ve got to call the lab.” Doc Harmon headed for the back room with a folder under his arm.

Despite Erline’s colorful appearance and wise-cracking attitude, Robin liked her. Beneath her cocky veneer, the older woman seemed to have a genuine affection for the animals they treated. She shrugged off Robin’s mistakes and swept aside her apologies with a smile or a joke.

Robin hated the idea that she might have hurt the older woman’s feelings. And Doc was right: Robin owed it to him and the practice to get out and meet people.

“If the invitation is still open, I’d like to go,” she said hesitantly.

Erline’s head popped back up, and she blew a bubble. “Great. We’ll pick you up at eight, so we don’t miss happy hour. Carol’s a hoot. You’ll like her.” She studied Robin with a considering expression as she worked her gum. “Wear something more, you know, feminine.”

Fashion advice from a Barbie doll look-alike, even one with a heart of gold, wasn’t exactly what Robin wanted to hear. Clothes weren’t a priority of hers. “How dressy is this place?”

Erline pursed her lips. “Oh, people wear just about anything, Western, casual, whatever.” Her expression brightened. “I’ll bet we’re about the same size except for our height. Want to borrow something of mine?”

Today she was wearing an electric-blue leather miniskirt paired with a striped peasant blouse in some shiny fabric that dipped low in the front and clung to her generous curves like a coat of paint. Matching feather and rhinestone earrings swung wildly whenever she moved her head. If she and Robin were the same size, so were Texas and Rhode Island.

“No, thanks. That’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll find something.” Robin hoped her smile offset her hasty refusal.

For a moment she thought Erline was going to argue. From the other room she heard a fit of coughing, and she wondered if Doc had heard them.

The phone on Erline’s desk rang. “See you later,” she told Robin with a wink as she reached for the receiver.

Robin left the clinic with mixed feelings about the evening ahead. By seven-thirty she was kicking herself for agreeing to go. On the bed before her was every garment she owned that was remotely suitable. Not only wouldn’t anything there measure up to Erline’s assessment of feminine attire, even Robin was painfully aware of the lack.

Hands on hips, she stared down at the skimpy selection. She’d ruled out the cotton slacks and tailored cotton blouses she’d bought for work, the worn jeans and faded T-shirts, the shorts she saved for hot weather. That left two dresses she wore to church and one with a halter top she’d bought on impulse for a party back in school. She’d changed her mind about attending and the tag was still attached. No Returns, it said. All Sales Final.

What had she been thinking when she bought it? The dress was shorter than she liked and the back dipped too low for her to wear a bra with it. At least the color was plain dark blue, not showy at all, and she had sandals that would match it.

Decision made, she was dressed and ready fifteen minutes early. Restlessly she paced the small living room, watching through the window for Erline’s car so she could go outside as soon as the other two women pulled into the driveway and save them the trouble of getting out. She would have waited on the porch except that Mae and Ed were working in their yard and she didn’t feel like chatting with them—or answering Mae’s inevitable questions.

Robin hadn’t yet returned their plate. Aunt Dot had taught her never to return a dish empty, so maybe tomorrow she’d make some brownies if it wasn’t too hot to run the oven.

Before she could speculate further, a shiny red Honda turned into her driveway with two women in side. Recognizing Erline in the passenger seat, Robin grabbed her purse. Out of habit, she locked the side door after her and waved at her neighbors as Erline got out of the car to let Robin climb in the back. Erline was wearing a tight sleeveless red knit dress with matching hoop earrings. She glanced at Robin’s outfit, but didn’t comment.

“You don’t get carsick, do you?” Erline asked as she pulled the seat forward. “Because if you do, I can ride back there, but we’re only two minutes from Charlie’s.”

“I’ll be fine.” As she climbed in, Robin nodded shyly at the woman behind the wheel. “Hi.”

“Carol, this is Robin,” Erline said. “And vice versa.”

“Nice to meet you,” Carol drawled. She had long brown hair with lighter streaks and a round, pretty face that was carefully made up.

“Carol’s from Atlanta, in case you can’t tell.” Erline’s brassy blond hair sprang away from her face in waves and was puffed up on top. Riding in the car with the two other women, Robin felt like a plain little sparrow trapped in a parakeet cage.

Not an especially flattering image for any of them.

“How long have you lived here?” Robin asked Carol as they turned the corner at the end of her street.

“Ten years.” Carol glanced into the rearview mirror. “I teach secondary school in Elizabeth. Erline tells me you’re from Chicago.”

“Born and bred.”

“I went to Chicago once on vacation with my family, but I didn’t care for it much,” Carol replied, turning another corner. She pronounced her I as Ah. Robin was surprised her accent was still so strong after a decade spent in Colorado.

Before Robin had the chance to think up a suitable response, Carol whipped the car over to an empty spot by the curb. Other vehicles already lined both sides of the street.

Robin hadn’t driven down this way or had time to do much exploring yet, but now she saw the sign in front of the big one-story building that appeared to be their destination. Despite the waning daylight, Charlie’s Heart pulsated in red and pink neon. When Erline opened the car door, Robin could hear the rhythmic throb of music coming from inside the club.

The sign made her think of the sheriff. Charlie must be a common nickname in Waterloo. Would he be here tonight or was he at home with a family of his own? She hadn’t noticed a ring on his finger, but of course that didn’t mean anything and she hadn’t really been looking.

An image of little cowkids wearing miniature badges and cowboy hats made her smother a grin. Then a gorgeous blonde slid into Robin’s mental picture and tucked her arm through Sheriff Winchester’s.

Robin blinked away the image as Erline got out of the Honda and smoothed down her skirt. Carol wore black pants and a long top that flattered her plump figure. Gold bangle bracelets sparkled in the light and her perfume reeked of name brand exclusivity. It made Robin want to sneeze.

“Hey, ladies!” called out a cowboy-type as he pulled open the front door to Charlie’s. He was wearing pressed jeans and a bright turquoise shirt with pearl snaps and a lightning bolt across the chest. Two other men, similarly dressed, were with him. All three wore black Stetsons and western boots.

“Hi, Bobby Joe.” Erline waved at the men before they disappeared inside. She turned back to Carol and Robin. “Looks like a good crowd tonight.”

“It’s always like this when they have a decent band and Charlie sings,” Carol replied, raising her voice over the sound of the music.

Butterflies danced in Robin’s midsection, and she slowed her pace as an attack of nerves hit her. What had she been thinking? She would much rather be at home in her bathrobe with a rented movie and bowl of popcorn.

As if she could sense Robin’s sudden reluctance, Erline hooked an arm through hers and tugged her forward. She spoke directly into Robin’s ear. “Don’t worry, we’ll look out for you, and everyone’s real friendly here.”

“Thanks,” Robin muttered, her mouth dry, as Erline turned her loose. Taking a deep breath, she followed her companions through the front door. It was painted red and adorned with an elaborate brass knob in the shape of entwined hearts. To Robin they might as well have been gargoyles.

Even inside the club, the music from a very good sound system wasn’t overwhelming. Trying to adjust her vision to the dimness of the interior, Robin bumped into Carol, who’d stopped at the hostess podium. Carol flashed her a smile as Erline spoke to an attractive young woman in a red jumpsuit.

In moments the three of them were seated at a round table on one side of a large room. The chair backs were heart-shaped red leather. In the middle of the table a ruby glass candle holder gave a romantic glow. The overall decor of the room had a Western theme, which wasn’t surprising, but it also managed to appear both intimate and trendy.

A small stage was at one end of the room, on it an elaborate set of drums, several speakers and some other sound equipment. A panel of lights hung overhead. The dance floor was slightly larger than Erline had described, and a bar carved of dark wood ran along the opposite wall. Behind the bar was a mirrored wall with glass shelves filled with liquor bottles. Along the top ran a neon border in red, pink and gold. Many of the bar stools were already occupied, as were most of the tables.

Several racks of antlers adorned one paneled wall, but at least there weren’t any mounted animal heads. Through an arched doorway, Robin could see pool tables in another room and more people.

“I’m having the prime rib,” Erline announced, sliding aside her unopened menu. “How about you two?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.