“You’re The One Who Has Amnesia,” Tyler Muttered. “Why Am I The One Who Can’t Seem To Remember His Own Name?”

Jenny smiled up at him. “Maybe my problem is contagious. Have you ever thought of that?”

“Maybe you’re contagious.”

“Poor Sheriff Cook. Saddled with contagious me. And I know how much you want to get rid of me.”

She stared at the cleft in his stubborn chin. Up to his lashes, which were indecently long for a man and curled at the tips. His lips were also in her line of vision, and she couldn’t help remembering what they had felt like on hers. Cowboy, she thought. Rugged, tough…sweet…

Without thinking, she kissed him again.

He stood frozen in the doorway, looking down at her with comical disbelief. “What was that for?”

She smiled innocently. “I have no idea. Maybe you’re contagious….”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Silhouette Desire! This month we’ve created a brand-new lineup of passionate, powerful and provocative love stories just for you.

Begin your reading enjoyment with Ride the Thunder by Lindsay McKenna, the September MAN OF THE MONTH and the second book in this beloved author’s cross-line series, MORGAN’S MERCENARIES: ULTIMATE RESCUE. An amnesiac husband recovers his memory and returns to his wife and child in The Secret Baby Bond by Cindy Gerard, the ninth title in our compelling DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS continuity series.

Watch a feisty beauty fall for a wealthy lawman in The Sheriff & the Amnesiac by Ryanne Corey. Then meet the next generation of MacAllisters in Plain Jane MacAllister by Joan Elliott Pickart, the newest title in THE BABY BET: MACALLISTER’S GIFTS.

A night of passion leads to a marriage of convenience between a gutsy heiress and a macho rodeo cowboy in Expecting Brand’s Baby, by debut Desire author Emilie Rose. And in Katherine Garbera’s new title, The Tycoon’s Lady falls off the stage into his arms at a bachelorette auction, as part of our popular BRIDAL BID theme promotion.

Savor all six of these sensational new romances from Silhouette Desire today.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

The Sheriff & the Amnesiac
Ryanne Corey

RYANNE COREY

is the award-winning author of over twenty romance novels. She is also the recipient of the Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement Award. She finds the peace and beauty of the mountains very conducive to writing, and currently lives in the beautiful Rocky Mountains of Utah. She has long believed in the healing power of love and laughter, and enjoys nothing more than bringing a smile to a reader’s face.

You can write to her at 520 C. North Main, Suite 321, Heber City, Utah, 84032.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

One

Jenny Kyle was getting a headache. This particular headache began with a capital “T,” as in trapped. Quite simply, she couldn’t stand being constrained in any way, shape or form. Especially when it wasn’t her fault.

At least she was an optimistic claustrophobic. As soon as she had everything sorted out with the strong arm of the law, she would leave this unfriendly town of Bridal Veil Falls—Bride Falls on Her Head was more like it, she thought wryly—in the dust. Her headache would be only a memory. One SOS call to good old Lawyer Dearbourne would solve everything. He knew she wasn’t a criminal, at least not a deliberate criminal. It was simply her poor luck that she’d lost her wallet, cash and credit cards. Although she had no doubt she would get a stern lecture when her attorney heard about Jenny’s spur-of-the-moment cross-country motorcycle trip.

“He’s here.” The waitress stuck her finger beneath Jenny’s nose and pointed out the window. “That’s the sheriff. You’re toast.”

Jenny turned her head, dark brown eyes widening as she watched a shiny black police car pulling up in the parking lot. Her headache kicked into high gear. Her palms began to sweat. The door swung open and a pair of dusty cowboy boots hit the ground. Jenny had hoped for a kindly soul, someone who would say, “Golly, shucks,” and have a good chuckle at all these misunderstandings.

Instead, she got the Gladiator of Bridal Veil Falls.

He stepped out into the fading sunlight, a full six-foot four inches of masculine intimidation wrapped up in a slim-fitting beige police uniform. His shoulders went on forever, his hips were narrow, his stomach tight and flat. She couldn’t see much of his face; he wore a cowboy hat pulled low over his forehead. He also wore dark glasses. Jenny had never seen a jaw so square or a chin so intimidating. And those straight lips could have been chiseled from marble.

Jenny dropped her head into her arms on the table. “This is not my day.”

The front door opened and closed. Jenny heard slow, measured steps growing louder and louder…until they stopped right in front of her. She couldn’t bring herself to look up.

“Is this the one?”

His deep voice had a no-nonsense tone. There wasn’t a trace of a friendly country accent. Jenny’s optimism shriveled up like a grape in the sun. She wondered how old she would be before she got out of jail.

The waitress started spilling the whole story from the beginning. She concluded with a disdainful, “Funny thing, sheriff, how she didn’t notice her wallet was gone until after she ate enough food for ten people.”

“I resent that.” Jenny looked up, glaring at the waitress. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the sheriff quite yet. “I ate a well-balanced meal. You try hanging on to a runaway motorcycle for eight hours and see how hungry you get.”

Came the unsympathetic voice of the sheriff: “So that Harley outside is yours?”

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet the sheriff’s sunglasses squarely. “Maybe. At this point, I’m taking the Fifth on everything.”

For a long, uncomfortable moment, he didn’t say anything. At this close range, Jenny could see the manly dent in his manly chin. His slanted cheekbones were perfectly molded, his nose perfectly straight, his posture everything a Marine Corps recruiting poster could ask for. It must be true, she thought glumly, what everyone said about the healthful benefits of fresh country air.

The Gladiator pursed his lips and whistled softly. “What do you know? It’s you.”

Jenny frowned at him, wondering what he was trying to trick her into admitting. “No, it’s not. I don’t know what or who you’re talking about, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just an innocent traveler who happened to lose her wallet. Believe me, I would have taken a detour if I’d known you people in Bride Falls on Her Head were so paranoid and unfriendly.”

“Bridal Veil Falls,” he corrected, a faint smile curling his lips. “You know, the minute I saw your red hair, I knew I was looking at trouble.”

Jenny glared at him, then slid out from the booth, brushing tortilla crumbs off her jeans as she stood up. It was time she adopted a defensive attitude. She felt at a distinct disadvantage sitting. Still, at five foot two she didn’t gain much height. If he put his arm out straight, it would go right over her curly head. “Let’s talk about trouble. I was hungry, so I decided to stop and get something to eat. Before I know it, I’m being accused of all kinds of things I didn’t do. At least, I didn’t do them intentionally. I’m not some career criminal who travels from town to town on her motorcycle ripping off Mexican restaurants—” she threw the waitress a dark look “—despite what she seems to think. And I’ll tell you something else.”

“Oh, boy,” the sheriff drawled. “She’s not done yet.”

“This town has trouble written all over it. Everyone here is hostile.” She paused, then added grudgingly, “Well, that’s not true. That sweet white-haired lady crocheting in the corner booth has been very friendly. She keeps smiling at me. I like her, but otherwise, I can’t wait until I see the last of this place.”

Obviously listening to their conversation, the white-haired lady waved her crocheting needles at the sheriff. “Hello there. You’re looking very handsome in your new hat.”

“Always the sweet-talker, Ella,” the sheriff called out. Then he exchanged a speaking look with the waitress. “You didn’t tell me my grandmother was in here today, Sunny. That kind of puts a new light on things, if you know what I mean.”

“Sunny?” Jenny blurted out incredulously. “Her name is Sunny? She is the least friendly waitress I’ve met in my life. And that lovely lady is your grandmother? How weird is that?”

The sheriff took off his sunglasses, swinging them in slow circles from his finger. The blue-eyed gaze he leveled at Jenny was heavy-lidded, thoughtful and penetrating. He had Baryshnikov eyes, luminous and startling against the smooth, golden-brown tint of his skin. Far more beautiful than she had expected. And much more human.

“Her name is Sunny,” he told her conversationally, “and that lovely lady is indeed my grandmother. My name is Sheriff Cook, but you can call me Tyler. You see? We’re actually a very friendly town, so you don’t have anything to worry about. Now do me a favor and be quiet for a minute. If you’re capable of it. Sunny, how long has Ella been here?”

“Well…most of the afternoon,” Sunny replied, looking uncertain. “I never thought about…well, Dr. Wetzel told me she was doing better. Said she took up crocheting instead.”

The sheriff ignored her, continuing his conversation with Sunny. “Something tells me Ella has had a little relapse. She looks too happy.”

Jenny slapped her forehead with her hand. “What is going on here? Am I going crazy? Or is everyone in this town crazy except me? Why won’t you let me go outside and look for my wallet? What does that nice little lady have to do with anything?”

The sheriff looked sideways at her. “Don’t you ever do anything you’re told? I said to be quiet.”

“I don’t have to be quiet,” Jenny said. “I’m in deep trouble, anyway. What are you going to do, arrest me for using up too much of your oxygen?”

He tipped his hat back on his head, revealing a tangled fringe of honey-colored hair. “You have a really bad attitude. I know your middle name is Trouble. You mind telling me your first and last?”

“Jenny Kyle.” She held his gaze, one golden brow arching defiantly. “Jenny Maria Kyle.”

“You have the right to remain silent, Jenny Trouble Kyle.” He folded his sunglasses and slipped them into his breast pocket. “Take advantage of that right, while I go and have a little talk with Ella.”

Jenny immediately bristled. “That nice woman has done absolutely nothing to…mummph.”

The sheriff was pressing his fingers firmly against Jenny’s lips. “The right to remain silent.”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed dangerously. From the tip of her head down to her toes, her entire body stiffened beneath his touch. Sunny giggled, finding the whole thing immensely entertaining.

“That’s a good girl,” Tyler said. He removed his fingers slowly, by inches, as if prepared to silence her again should she dare open her mouth. “Now, sit.”

“I feel like standing.” The words came out in a rush, before he could react.

It should have made him angry. She had intended to make him angry. Instead his lips crooked in a smile that might have been boyishly beguiling under different circumstances. “Trouble,” he said softly, then walked away.

Jenny had no idea what he said to the poor, dear lady in the corner booth. They spoke too softly to overhear, no matter how hard she strained. She couldn’t even see the woman’s expression, since the sheriff’s broad-shouldered back blocked her view. Jenny could only wait and wonder, her teeth working nervously at her lower lip.

When he returned to her, however, her chin was high and her unsteady fingers were hidden in the pockets of her jeans. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he could shake her. She’d done nothing wrong, and she wasn’t about to act as if she had.

But she might have been invisible for all the notice he paid her. He pulled Sunny aside and whispered something to her, nodding his head in Ella’s direction. Sunny listened intently, then hurried to the telephone and made a call.

“I don’t suppose you would like to explain to me what that was all about?” Jenny asked. “Wait a minute. I know! You’re going to arrest that wonderful little woman for being too friendly. I’m sure that’s a felony around here.”

For a long moment Tyler didn’t answer. He simply examined her leisurely, his head tipped to one side. “You know, you really have a problem with authority figures. I think a few years in the big house is going to do you a world of good.”

She gave him her wide-eyed, vulnerable look. “A few years? The big house? What is this, a James Cagney movie?”

“And I don’t see any sign of remorse for your crimes, either,” he went on thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look good for you, Trouble.”

“Give me a break! I lost my stupid wallet, for Pete’s sake!”

“Like I said, a real bad attitude.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Judge Curry doesn’t like anyone with attitude. He doesn’t care much for anyone who rides motorcycles, either. Last Fourth of July a motorcycle gang came tearing through town, right in the middle of the Independence Day Parade. Flattened two flashing barricades and ran over Judge Curry’s bulldog. He had him all dressed up for the occasion, too, with a red, white and blue collar and a little stovepipe hat. It was a real heartbreaker, I’ll tell you.”

Now Jenny sat down, groaning as her head dropped against the back of the booth. “Wonderful. Just shoot me, would you? Shoot me and put me out of my misery.”

“Of course, the judge does have a soft spot for women,” he went on. “You could very well get out in a year or so on good behavior. You know any karate?”

She stared at him. “What?”

“Karate. You know, kickboxing and punching and things like that. Believe it or not, the women’s correctional facility is a lot harder on the inmates than the men’s. You’d be wise to brush up on your self-defense.”

“Do you honestly think I’m buying this?”

He grinned, pushing his hat back another inch. “I don’t really care if you believe it or not. Any family or friends you want me to call before I toss you in the slammer?”

The look she gave him was strangely blank. “What?”

“You’re entitled to a phone call. Would you like to call your poor husband, God bless him?”

“You have such a delightful sense of humor,” she muttered. “If I had a husband, which I don’t, I’d be an idiot to use my one call on him instead of my lawyer.”

“Suit yourself. Oh, I have something for you. With all the excitement of apprehending a dangerous criminal, I almost forgot.” He pulled something out of his back pocket and tossed it on the table. “Look familiar?”

Jenny stared at her green wallet. Her jaw dropped like a stone. “Where did you get that?”

“Actually, Ella just gave it to me. She said to tell you that you have beautiful hair and she hopes she didn’t cause you any trouble. She has a little problem with taking things that aren’t hers. Ella’s an angel, but she’s a couple of beers short of a six-pack, if you know what I mean.”

Jenny felt like someone had put her backward on an upside-down merry-go-round. She stared at sweet little Ella, who was suddenly deeply absorbed in her crocheting. Then she turned her stormy gaze back to the devil disguised as a lawman. She slammed her fists on the table so hard, her wallet jumped two inches with pure terror. “I don’t believe this! You knew all along, didn’t you? You conned me! You knew Ella had stolen my wallet, and you deliberately let me think—”

“I object,” he said mildly. “I haven’t seen you think yet. Besides, Ella isn’t really a thief. She just borrows things sometimes for excitement. She always gives everything back sooner or later. We thought we had her cured when she discovered crocheting. She loved it, never put it down long enough to pick anything else up, if you know what I mean. I guess we’ll still have to watch her.”

His casual attitude infuriated Jenny. “You deliberately tortured me, talking about dangerous women’s prisons and dead bulldogs. You had no intention of arresting me. I should have you arrested!”

His vivid eyes sparkled. “The dog didn’t die. He just rolled over a few times and ruined his hat. Anyway, I’m the only law this town has, so I can’t really arrest myself, can I? Think of the complications putting on the handcuffs.”

Through gritted teeth, Jenny told him, “I’ll help.”

“Oh, chill out. I was just teaching you a lesson. You needed an attitude adjustment.”

“An attitude adjustment?” She was up and out of the booth with amazing speed, facing him down with the light of battle in her eyes. Or rather, facing him up. He was extraordinarily tall. “I’m the victim here! The only thing I’m guilty of is having a rotten day. I’ve been wrestling with that wretched motorcycle all day, and I’m completely exhausted. All I wanted when I stopped here was some food and a rest room. Bam, before I know it, I’m being treated like public enemy number one!”

He took a moment before he answered. “So you admit you have a few problems controlling that monster outside?”

Jenny was too angry to be cautious. “A few problems? The thing is possessed by the devil. I’m lucky to be alive.”

His wide mouth quirked. “I believe you. I know a little something about motorcycles. That Harley is too much machine for you, Trouble.”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it?” She grabbed her wallet, opened it up and threw a twenty dollar bill on the table. “There. My criminal career is ended.”

“And a damn fine career it was,” he said.

“And now, amazing as this experience has been, I feel the urge to hit the road. Excuse me, Sheriff. It’s been a real treat.”

He blocked her exit, one hip braced casually against the edge of the booth. In the depths of his eyes, there was an unmistakable mixture of amusement and sympathy. He held her gaze, rubbing his square jaw for a lazy moment. “Let’s ponder those three words, shall we? Hit the road. Do you realize if you climb back on that motorcycle of yours, there is a very good chance you will do exactly that—splat.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Jenny replied with saccharine sweetness, “but I don’t want you worrying about lil’ old me. I’ve had a lot of experience taking care of myself. Now, is there anything else you would like to accuse me of, or am I free to go? Finally?”

He pulled a stick of Juicy Fruit gum out of his pocket, slowly unwrapped it and put it in his mouth, as if he had all the time in the world. “You forgot to stand in line when they handed out common sense, didn’t you? I’m afraid I can’t in good conscience allow you and your motorcycle out after dark. It would be a much better idea if you waited until morning to hit the road. That way other motorists would have a sporting chance of survival.”

Her eyes narrowed. It irritated her that he was standing so close, confining her, as if he had nothing to do for the rest of his life but make her life difficult. “It’s not dark yet.”

“Worse. It’s dusk. More accidents happen at this time of night than any other. It’s a documented fact.”

“Well, document this. I have places to go, and you’re holding me up.”

His blue eyes opened wide, as if he’d just had the most ingenious thought. “You know, you seem like an adventuresome girl. Why don’t you try something new? Be reasonable.”

“I’m not the one being unreasonable,” she snapped. “Are you going to let me out of here or not?”

“Lord, no.”

“Sorry, Mr. Sheriff, sir. It’s a free country and you don’t really have a say in it.”

He smiled, rocking back and forth on the heels of his well-worn boots. “Would you mind showing me your motorcycle license, ma’am? Just to make sure everything is in order?”

Silence. “My what?”

“License,” he said softly.

“I have a driver’s license—”

“Motorcycle license, ma’am.”

Jenny closed her eyes and counted to ten. “I haven’t gotten around to getting one yet. I’ve only owned the Harley for a couple of days. I’ll take care of it when I go home.”

“That won’t do,” he said almost apologetically. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you, ma’am.”

“You’re going to arrest me? For what? Forgetting to get a motorcycle license? Is that a felony around here?”

“It’s very bad,” Tyler said gravely. “Very bad.”

Jenny tossed back her hair defiantly. “Ha! You’re just trying to jerk my chain again. You’re going to put me in jail for a little oversight? That I’d like to see.”

But it happened so fast, she didn’t really see anything. His hands moved quickly over hers, there was a flash of silver and an ominous click.

She was handcuffed.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Tyler began. “You have the right to—”

“What?” Jenny was flabbergasted. A vein beat wildly in her throbbing temple, keeping perfect rhythm with her racing heart. “Are you nuts? You can’t keep me here, and you know it! I could sue you for false arrest. I could have your badge. I could—”

“Now you made me lose my place,” he grumbled. “I’ll have to start all over. You have the right to—”

“If you think for one second that you’re going to get away with this macho power trip, you’ve got another think coming. You picked the wrong—” Without warning, she felt herself being upended and tossed over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a single little Mexi-fry. The red-and-white-checkered linoleum floor filled her bouncing vision.

“Women never take advantage of their right to remain silent,” Tyler Cook said. He started to walk, one arm clasped tightly around the back of her knees. “I don’t know why I even bother saying that part.”

Two

In high school, it hadn’t escaped Tyler Cook’s attention that the local girls had a weakness for a lanky cowboy with summer-blue eyes and an all-American smile. They enjoyed the way he walked, real slow and lazy, like he had no place to go and nothing to do when he got there. His appeal only seemed to increase when he put on his cowboy hat, and the ultimate drawing card seemed to be the bruises and abrasions and black eyes he got whenever he competed in a weekend rodeo. Riding mean-tempered broncos wasn’t exactly a safe or ordinary hobby, but he was young and relished the attention from the stands. Besides, he had a real talent for sticking like a burr to the back of a half-crazy bronco. Inevitably there were times when he ended up eating dust, but the sympathy he received from the buckle bunnies was ample compensation for a wide range of physical injuries. Tyler was young, curious and restless, and there were times when the pace of his small-town life got on his nerves. Like, all the time.

If truth be told, Tyler knew it wasn’t so much Bridal Veil Falls that irritated him as it was his own father’s attitude toward his only son. Gerald Cook believed that boys were to be molded with a heavy hand, and he had the heaviest hand in town. While Tyler’s little sister, Rosie, was spoiled and indulged, Tyler himself was the target of constant criticism and harsh physical punishment for any perceived weakness. According to his father, this would make a man out of him. Which it may have done, but it also made Tyler determined to leave his hometown in the dust the first chance he got.

After graduation from high school, Tyler wasted no time packing up his Chevy truck and heading for college at Montana State University. He had an athletic scholarship, which, along with a part-time job and a government loan, enabled him to get an education far from his father’s harsh disapproval. Unfortunately, his formal education came to an abrupt end ten months shy of graduation. His father had a stroke that prevented him from working the family farm. Tyler realized he had a responsibility to contribute to the family finances. Rather than go home and try to wring a pittance out of fifteen hundred acres of dry farm during a drought, he opted to join the rodeo circuit. Professional rodeo paid real well if you had a talent for it, and there wasn’t a bronc in the world Tyler couldn’t ride—saddleback or bareback. He had an empathy for wild things, possibly because he recognized some sort of long-suppressed wildness in himself. He sent home his winnings, though his father never openly acknowledged his son’s hard-won success. Even Tyler’s picture on the cover of American Cowboy magazine went unnoticed…or at least, unremarked.

The same day Tyler received the gold buckle proclaiming him the World Champion All-Around Cowboy, his father passed away from a second stroke. Though it was too late to come to an understanding with his father, there was no one else to look after his younger sister and grandmother, which necessitated his return to Bridal Veil Falls.

And so Tyler went home to uphold law and order, inciting a near riot among the unattached females of Bridal Veil Falls. For eight long years he dodged and ducked and sidestepped the avalanche of feminine attention, sweet potato pie and Toll House cookies continually coming his way while he waited for the right girl to come along. He knew exactly what he was looking for—someone he could chase until she caught him. How hard was that? She would be tall and willowy, with lustrous dark hair and an adorable dusting of freckles across her cute little nose. Oh, he’d know her the minute he saw her, that much was certain.

Which was why he was nearly knocked out of his Tony Lama cowboy boots when he walked into Enchilada Ernie’s to arrest a criminal and found his soul mate.

There she was. There she was.

It was destiny at first sight. Tyler certainly hadn’t expected her to come barreling into town on a Harley-Davidson, with wild copper hair and a “just try me” expression on her face, but there she was, anyway. She wasn’t what he had expected all these years, but she was so much more. Barely five feet tall, with enormous doe-brown eyes shimmering over high cheekbones. Her tank top was tight beneath her studded leather vest. Her ears were triple-pierced. Her hands were perpetually clenched in frustrated little fists. Not the woman he had expected all these years, but damned if she wasn’t the one he’d been waiting for all his life. Best of all, there was no predatory glint in her eyes, just a hectic, high-flying spirit that reminded him of his own. No, best of all she had a ring on every single finger except the all-important “she belongs to me” finger. Yippee!

Unfortunately, when sweet Ella had turned out to be the criminal, Tyler had been left with no way to keep his soul mate in town. Fortunately, a stroke of genius had prompted him to ask Jenny for her motorcycle license. It was a happy man indeed who walked out of Enchilada Ernie’s with the woman of his dreams slung over his shoulder like a rather light bag of potatoes.

She didn’t wear perfume. In fact, she smelled a little like motor oil and salsa, but he didn’t mind that at all. Had she been able to see his expression while he walked to his patrol car, she would have seen the crooked, whimsical smile that had been pulverizing female hearts for years. But she couldn’t see anything but the black asphalt parking lot, poor thing, and all her energy was going into squirming and shouting and pounding on his back with those frustrated fists.

“Settle down,” he told her, trying to sound stern and commanding, rather than amused. “You’re going to hurt your lovely petite self.”

Jenny’s chin bounced hard between his shoulder blades. “I’m not the—ugh!—the one who is going to get hurt. You’re going to be so sorry you ever—”

“Listen, if you don’t behave yourself, I might get the idea you’re resisting arrest. You don’t want to be charged with that as well, do you?” He set her down next to the passenger door, being careful to keep her arms pinned to her sides. “Face the facts, Trouble. You’ve just been put in protective custody, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Jenny tossed her head so high her hair hit him in the face. “Protective custody? That’s a joke. Just what are you supposed to be protecting me from? Normal people? I hate to tell you this, Sheriff, but you don’t fall into that category.”

His smile came ever so slowly, crinkling his eyes, denting one cheek and glossing him over with a heavy dose of country charm. He leaned forward, putting his mouth close to her ear. “I’m protecting you from yourself,” he said softly. “I hate to break this to you, but you’re not exactly normal, either.”

Jenny swallowed painfully, rubbing hard on her neck where his breath had tickled her. She really didn’t like anyone this close to her, invading her personal space and making her stomach feel as if a fist had grabbed hold of it. There was a disturbing warmth in his eyes, radiating through her skin and bones, heating her up way down inside. Instinctively she tried to back away, only to come up hard against an unyielding police car. “Thank you for your honesty. Now tell me how much it’s going to cost me to get out of this motorcycle license thing. That’s what you want, right? Some kind of bail money?”

That’s not at all what I want, Tyler thought. But aloud he said, “I’m in such a good mood today, I’m willing to forgo the whole bail thing—on one condition.”

Jenny’s defensive little chin went up another notch. “Really? And what might that be?”

Tyler grinned. “I hope you don’t think my interest in you is anything but official. I’m simply looking after your best interests. The road from here to Helena is murder if you’re not familiar with it, one switchback after another. Are you familiar with it?”

Immediately she replied, “Yes.”

“Liar. You wouldn’t make it ten miles on that road before you plopped yourself and that nuclear scooter in the river.”

“That’s my problem.”

Tilting his head thoughtfully, he slowly rocked up and down on the heels of his boots. “Well, now…that’s where you’re slightly confused. As a public official, I’m charged with the welfare of every man, woman, child and childlike woman in my jurisdiction. As long as you’re in this town, you’re my responsibility. In daylight the idea of you on that Harley is scary enough. But at night? No way are you leaving here tonight.”

For a moment Jenny felt queasy. She had the unnerving sensation of being out of control, caught like a mouse in a trap. Her freedom was more important to her than food, air or water. “You can’t force me to stay here overnight. You can’t force me to stay anywhere.”

“Not here in the parking lot,” he agreed. “That would be cruel and unusual punishment. You have two options, Trouble. You can check into the Cotton Tree Motor Lodge or you can stay in our little jail. I wouldn’t recommend the jail—the mattresses are like concrete. But the choice is yours. In the morning, after I give you a crash course on riding that Harley—no pun intended—you’ll be free to leave. I’m a friendly guy, remember? As long as you cooperate, I won’t even ticket you for not having a motorcycle license. See?” White teeth flashed. “I’m a very nice person.”

She held his eyes for a silent, simmering moment. “You are a very bad person,” she said, jabbing him in the chest with her finger. “This is blackmail, and you know it.”

“Pretty much.”

“And what’s more, you’re enjoying it.”

“Right on that one.” He grinned, deep grooves framing either side of his expressive mouth. “Can’t put one over on you, can I? Which will it be, Trouble? Jail or the Cotton Tree?”

Jenny’s hands slowly closed into fists at her side. She was trapped and she knew it, which made the situation even harder to swallow. Restraint suffocated her. Her cheeks were burning, but she never took her eyes away from his. “All right,” she snapped. “I’ll check into the Cotton Tree like a good little hostage. But come morning I’m out of here.”

“Thank you so much,” Tyler said, hand over his heart. “May I open the door for you?”

“What about my bike?”

“I’ll have someone bring it over to the motel.” He adopted a wide-eyed cherub’s expression, which was enhanced by the tangled fringe of honey-bronzed hair beneath the brim of his hat. “In the morning, of course. I wouldn’t want you sneaking out of town tonight when I wasn’t looking. Motorcycle keys, please.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Not at all. Keys?”

She retrieved the keys from her back pocket and slapped them into his waiting palm. “Do you mind if I get my duffel bag out of the storage compartment, or would you like to impound that, too?”

“Not at all.” Dimple in gear, an amused Tyler tossed the keys into the air and caught them. “I’ll be more than happy to get it for you. After you get in the car.”

Jenny pushed his hand away as he reached past her to open the door. She opened it herself, teeth ground together hard enough to make her jaw ache. Giving him one last murderous look, she climbed in, slamming the door shut with astonishing force from such a petite woman.

She didn’t see Tyler laughing. She couldn’t; he had his face buried in his arms on top of the car.

Tyler was a realist. He knew he definitely had his work cut out for him.

He braked for a stop sign and glanced sideways at his unhappy captive, raising his eyebrows as he noted the sullen set of her lower lip. Apparently, she didn’t think being arrested was romantic. She wasn’t talking, she wasn’t moving, he wasn’t even sure she was breathing. Such a defensive little soul.

“Try to remember this is for your own good,” he said cajolingly, trying to win a little smile. He’d never had trouble coaxing a smile from a woman. Until this woman.

Jenny sniffed disdainfully and slumped farther down in her seat. This was the first sign of life she’d shown since Tyler had started the car.

He tried again. “Bridal Veil Falls isn’t such a terrible place to spend the night, you know. It’s a nice little town.”

At that, she laughed out loud. “I’m sure. Although it should have been named Bride Falls on Her Head, like some creepy town in a Hitchcock movie.”

Tyler grinned, then took his right hand off the steering wheel, driving with his knee while he patted her shoulder. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. If you give it a chance, you’ll see that Bridal Veil Falls is a perfectly normal town. And who knows, you might like it so much you’ll decide to stay.”

“Yeah, right,” Jenny replied. Unsettled by Tyler’s casual touch, Jenny shifted away from him. “Now stop driving with your knee or I’ll make a citizen’s arrest.”

He put both hands back on the wheel, slanting her a quizzical look. “I’m just a wild and crazy guy, I guess. You don’t like to be touched, do you? Sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood a little.”

“I can handle my own moods,” she muttered. “Since you’re keeping me here against my will, I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t want to become bosom buddies.”

“Whatever you say.” He turned into the parking lot of the Cotton Tree Motor Lodge, pulling up in front of a lighted soft drink machine. He kept the car idling, giving her a look of blue-eyed innocence. “Seeing as how you don’t want to be friends, I won’t inflict myself on you further by going in with you to register.”

She gave him a look that said, “I didn’t ask you to,” then pushed open the door and climbed out. Slam. She opened the door to the back and pulled out her duffel bag. Slam. “For a little bit of a thing,” Tyler remarked through the open window, “You swing a mean car door.”

Ignoring him, she hoisted the strap of her duffel bag over her shoulder and headed for the office. A stinging-hot shower of resentment prickled at her from her head to her toes. She was staying in a place she didn’t want to stay, for no reason other than it suited the overbearing sheriff of Bridal Veil Falls. The man took his job way, way, way too seriously.

“Hey, Trouble. One more thing.”

She stopped, gritting her teeth as she slowly turned on her heel. “What?”

“Have a nice night. We aim to please here in Bride Falls on Her Head.” His tawny head was hanging out the window, hatless and backlit with the dying glow of sunset. He looked like an adorable Boy Scout trying to do a good deed, but she wasn’t fooled for a minute. “Let me know if you need anything.”

She gave him the most insincere smile of her life, followed by the most insincere statement of her life: “It’s been wonderful meeting you, Mr. Sheriff, sir.”

She turned and walked into the office without another word. She had a rhythm to her walk when she was irritated, a sassy little strut that she gave full rein to. Had she looked over her shoulder, she would have gotten yet another surprise.

Tyler Cook was smiling as if Heaven itself had just shown itself to him.

It was a typical motel room. The mattress was extra-firm, except in the middle where it was extrasoft. The pillows seemed to be made of plywood, and the air smelled strongly of disinfectant. The only window provided an aluminum frame for the blinking sign of the bowling alley across the street. Ritz Classic Bowl. Lounge, Leagues and Open Play. Plenty of Fun for Everyone!

Jenny sat on the bed like a zombie and watched the motel room change colors along with the bowling alley sign: red, yellow, green, red again. There was simply nothing else to do. She’d already showered, made a trip outside in her ratty chenille robe to the soft-drink machine for a cola, and watched an ancient rerun of Mr. Ed on television. It was barely eight o’clock, and she was wide awake and couldn’t sit still. Nights were especially hard for her. Everything seemed intensified when the world wound down, grew quiet and dark. Her restlessness. Her memories. That lonely, aching place called the future, always waiting for her. She took it one day at a time, but no matter how many days, months, years she crossed off, the future was always just as vast and just as empty. No matter how many tomorrows she put behind her, they never seemed to grow easier or less intimidating.

She needed to keep moving, and this motel room was not the place to do it. She liked to have her mind occupied with unfamiliar places, unfamiliar things, unfamiliar people. In fact, anything unfamiliar was oddly comforting. She never went to bed before midnight, anyway, and never slept more than three or four hours at a time. Regardless of how tired she was—and Lord knew tonight her muscles had no more strength than limp spaghetti—her soul perpetually resisted rest.

She stood up abruptly, dressing in a clean pair of jeans and a rather wrinkled white cotton peasant shirt pulled from her duffel bag. Five minutes later her still-damp hair was curling wildly in the breeze as she walked across the street to the bowling alley. The night air had a bite to it; she made a mental note to buy herself a warm coat before she left town in the morning. She was thinking about making a little detour into Canada for a couple of weeks. She’d never been there before, and she’d heard it was an incredibly beautiful country. Originally she’d had vague plans of wandering down south to the warmer climes of New Mexico and visiting an artist’s colony she’d heard about, but she could always do that later. Plans were made to be broken, especially hers. Spending the night in Bride Falls on Her Head wasn’t the end of the world. She had to sleep somewhere, so there was no point getting all worked up about it.

Or that’s what she told herself. Still, it was hard to ignore the raw nerves prickling under her skin. Ordinarily Jenny found it easier to be indifferent than offended, but there was something about Tyler Cook that jarred her senses, making them unusually acute. He was somehow different from other people she had met. He stood out from the blurred, forgettable crowd. It might have been the power of his tantalizing features, his perception or his sense of the absurd, but somehow she knew he was a man to be reckoned with. Jenny had no interest in reckoning with any man. Besides, in some secret corner of her mind, she knew she would come up short in a confrontation with him. He’d proved it once already, and she wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to do it again. No, she told herself. I won’t think about the square-jawed man with the devil in his blue eyes. And that’s the end of it.

She walked through the doors of the bowling alley into an explosion of light, laughter and deafening sound. The confusion and noise had a soothing effect on her, distracting her from her thoughts. She took a seat at the snack bar, a good vantage point from which to observe the good citizens of Bridal Veil Falls on a high-flying Friday night.

The lanes were all full, which didn’t really surprise her. There couldn’t be too much to do in a town this size. There were several teenage boys with their dates, a half dozen men in orange bowling shirts in league play and a few families bowling together. Everyone wore gosh-awful red-and-green bowling shoes. Jenny’s gaze skimmed the laughing children and parents without focusing on individuals. Years of long experience had taught her that some things were better avoided.

Still, there was something about the young family bowling in the nearest lane to her that caught and held her attention. Two chubby little boys wearing matching yellow sweatshirts and baggy, blue-striped shorts were working as a team, huffing and puffing as they lugged a heavy bowling ball halfway down the lane. There they dropped it into the gutter with a resounding thud and turned around to accept their parents’ applause. The little boys’ blue eyes were shining like sequins.

Twins.

Try as she might, Jenny was unable to tear her gaze away from those identical, adorable snub-nosed faces. They couldn’t be more than three or four years old. Their hair was the same white-blond shade as the young woman’s seated at the scoring desk—eye-catching and unusual.

Happy with their achievement, the little boys laughed and shuffled their way back to their seats in bowling shoes twice the size of their feet. Jenny saw that the laces were undone, dragging behind them on the ground. Their noses were both peeling with sunburn and each sported a Band-Aid on one knee. That was the way it was with twins. What happened to one always seemed to happen to the other.

No. Not always.

The inward voice cut through Jenny’s thoughts like the blade of a knife. She shivered, biting down hard on her lip. It was time to concentrate on something else, anything else, the first thing that came to mind…

“Tyler, double-knot their shoelaces, will you? They won’t stay tied.”

Hearing the instructions from the twins’ mommy, directed at the man sitting on the bench with his back to her, Jenny’s gaze stretched. The man had unmistakable hair, glittering with rainbow shades of dark gold and warm bronze. Unmistakable shoulders, filling out every inch of a well-washed blue chambray shirt. He slid off the bench, going down on one knee to tie shoelaces. Jenny saw a Greek god profile and a lean, law-abiding jaw. Unmistakably Sheriff Tyler Cook.

Good grief, he was the daddy. His resemblance to those little boys was amazing.

For a stunned moment Jenny couldn’t draw air into her lungs. It had never occurred to her that the irritating enforcer of the law might be married, though she couldn’t say exactly why. It might have been the way he teased her with those come-hither, beach-boy-blue eyes. Married men weren’t supposed to flirt. They weren’t supposed to smile the way he had smiled at her, showing off his boyish dimples and his cowboy country charm. He had deliberately misled her, that’s what he had done.

If looks could kill, Sheriff Cook would have met a nasty end right there on the paisley commercial carpeting at the Ritz Classic Bowl. He must have felt the daggers shooting into his back from the snack bar. He suddenly turned his head and looked directly at Jenny. She didn’t have time to turn away, she didn’t have time to compose her expression. They locked gazes, and he had the bloody nerve to send her one of his quizzical, blistering smiles. He saw her shock but showed absolutely no sign of embarrassment.

A single thought came to Jenny—there had been way too many intrusive emotions for one day. It was time to/turn off. She felt as if she were shrinking, separating from all the lights and noise around her, withdrawing into a well-guarded, secret cocoon. She shot off the bar stool as if it were made of red-hot coals. Hands pushed deep in her pockets, she plowed through the bowling alley with her determined gaze focused on the exit doors. Someone had spilled popcorn on the carpet; she could hear it crunching beneath her feet. Her peripheral vision caught a flash of blue as Tyler moved in her direction. Swallowing hard, she quickened her stride to a jog, but he caught up with her a good twenty feet before she reached the doors. Naturally. She had him pegged as the type who always got his man, even when his man was a woman.

He parked his tall body directly in front of her, putting an end to her flight for freedom. His smile was wide, brash and unabashedly cheerful. “If it isn’t my old friend, Trouble. This is about the last place I expected you to wander into.”

Jenny thought about his little family not fifty feet away, happy and oblivious to his true nature. Her blood simmered. “I’m sure it is. It must have been quite a surprise for you.”

“I like surprises,” he said. “I always have. That’s what makes ordinary life interesting—all the little, unexpected things. Besides, you just saved me a trip to the motel. I was about to go over and check on you. I had this nagging feeling you might try and skip town on me.” He put his hand on her arm to stop her as she tried to duck around him. “What’s your hurry? You seem awfully anxious to get through that door. I’m being nice. I haven’t tried to arrest you once.”

“The night is young,” Jenny muttered, using two fingers to remove his hand from her arm. “Don’t worry, Sheriff. I gave you my word that I’ll stick around until tomorrow morning, like a good little prisoner.”

“There’s that touching thing again,” Tyler commented, his mouth tucking thoughtfully to one side. “Is it just me you’re allergic to, or all human contact?”

She looked into this stranger’s eyes, rattled by the shadowed glimpse of compassion there. Insight, understanding, communication…she wasn’t interested in any of the above. Warning bells erupted in her head, much louder than the commotion of the bowling alley. She opened her mouth to toss back a careless, flippant remark—she was very good at that—but to her surprise, her mind remained stubbornly blank. Her fingers plucked restlessly at the gauzy fabric of her shirt, knowing that her momentary confusion was obvious.

“Just an observation,” Tyler said, a different tone in his voice. Ever so briefly he touched the back of his knuckles to her uplifted chin. His lips carried the faintest hint of a smile. “See? That didn’t hurt so much, did it? Relax. When I’m not in uniform, I hardly ever bite.”

His hand was right back at his side where it belonged, but Jenny could still feel the unsettling, gentle brush of his touch. If they turned out the lights in the bowling alley, the imprint would probably glow in the dark. Sheriff Cook seemed to have a radioactive force field. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Really?” His eyes were smiling as he pursed his lips and whistled softly. “No argument or snappy comeback? I’m impressed.”

“Wonderful. Since meeting you, I’ve wanted nothing more to impress you. Haven’t you noticed?” Looking over his shoulder, she saw three blond heads turned curiously in their direction. Something changed in her voice. “You’re holding up the game and you’re delaying my departure. You better get back to your bowling ball.”

He tipped his head sideways, a casual, nonthreatening, good-buddy sort of expression on his face. His taffy-colored hair drifted around his forehead in the smoky, fluorescent lights. “Why?”

“Why?” She gave him a peculiar look. “Because that’s what people do in places like this. They roll bowling balls. Good old-fashioned family fun.” She put an unmistakable emphasis on family.

Amazingly, it didn’t even faze him. “No,” he said patiently, “I meant, why are you leaving? You just got here, and I’m pretty sure you don’t have a date tonight or have plans to wash your hair or something. So why the hurry?”

Jenny couldn’t understand his persistence. His wife and children were within shouting distance and still he smiled with that brilliant, imperturbable gaze fastened on her. “Bowling alleys are kind of tame for a dangerous hell-raiser like myself. Besides, I don’t think your wife and children should be exposed to the criminal element.” There, she thought. Chew on that one for a while, Gladiator.

But instead of flushing, Tyler’s expression went oddly blank. “Who? My what? Oh Lord, don’t wish that on me.” He actually shivered. “She’s my sister. I’m here with my sister. I came along to protect everyone else from those miniature pit bulls of hers. They’re proof positive that big things come in small packages.”

The tight little fist that had been clamped on Jenny’s stomach relaxed a bit. Not his wife, not his children. There went her hopeful perception of him as a two-timing Lothario. He would have been much easier to deal with had his character been less than sterling. Now he was a thoughtful and considerate man who chaperoned his sister and her children to the bowling alley on a Friday night. This was horrible. “Whatever,” she muttered, her cheeks burning bright as she tried to ignore the lazy amusement sparkling in his eyes. “It’s certainly very sheriff-like of you, protecting all these helpless bowlers from those terrifying little boys. I’m surprised you’re not wearing a gun.”

His gaze slowly traveled the length of her, while his damnable, sweetly teasing smile played with his lips. “Who says I’m not wearing my gun? It always pays to be—”

“It’s past my bedtime,” Jenny said abruptly, manufacturing a wide yawn. “Way past. We hell-raisers need a lot of sleep to keep us in tip-top condition. Happy bowling, Sheriff.”

But when she tried once more to leave, he did a quick sidestep and once more prevented her from escaping. The man was very quick on his feet. “I make you nervous, don’t I?”

She stepped to the left; he stepped right along with her. Exasperated, Jenny folded her arms over her chest and threw up her determined little chin, looking him straight in the eyes. “Too much coffee makes me nervous,” she said. “Motorcycles that are possessed by the devil make me nervous. Clogged toilets, split ends and ingrown toenails make me nervous. And that just about covers it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m putting an end to our wonderful conversation.”

But then came a new voice into the wonderful conversation: “Heavens to Betsy, if this doesn’t do my little heart good.”

It was Tyler’s sister, slipping up beside him and tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. She looked like an all-American Thoroughbred, with long legs encased in tight white jeans and a cloud of baby-fine ivory hair pulled away from the sides of her face with tortoiseshell combs. A black-and-white-checkered shirt was tucked into a narrow leather belt, emphasizing the smallest waist Jenny had ever seen. She wore absolutely no makeup at all, just the healthy glow of a sun-kissed complexion. She looked to be no more than eighteen years old, which would have made her—what?—around fifteen years old when she had her children? Saints alive. They seemed to start their families early here in Bridal Veil Falls.

She smiled at Jenny with mischievous blue eyes, the unusual, crystalline color identical to Tyler’s. “Usually Ty has the most predictable effect on women. They make goo-goo eyes and pant and slip him phone numbers, but they never, ever brush him off like you just did. Obviously, you’re a woman to be reckoned with. I’m going to like you.”

“Rosie’s very shy,” Tyler said. “Can you tell? Go away, Rosie.”

Rosie continued with her breathless chatter, happily oblivious to her brother’s ominous scowl. “He told me he had arrested Julia Roberts this afternoon. Now I see what he meant. You resemble her, you really do.”

“What do I have to do to get rid of you?” Tyler asked his sister. His smile was gone. Completely. “Can’t you just be cooperative for once in your life?”

“I’ve been trying to get rid of you for six years,” Rosie scoffed, dismissing him with an airy hand. “Still you insist on continuing with the overbearing brother routine. I’ve learned from the best, and I will not be ordered around.” She turned back to Jenny with a lavish, approving smile. “Where were we? Oh, yes, Julia Roberts. You really are lovely, really. No wonder Tyler told me he was—”

“Go bowl, Rosie,” Tyler snapped. A light of panic flashed in his blue, blue eyes.

“—going to keep you,” Rosie said brightly.

Three

“Will you look at her go?” Rosie commented innocently, observing Jenny’s rapidly retreating back with limpid blue eyes. “She didn’t even say goodbye. Dear me. Did I say something wrong, Ty?”

“‘Will you look at her go?’” he imitated in a scathing falsetto. “‘Did I say something wrong, Ty?’ Damn it, Rosie, why can’t you mind your own business? You have no idea what I’m up against here.”

Rosie stood on her tiptoes and knuckled the top of his head with her fist. “You’re a big, strapping boy, you can handle it. I have to get back to the terrible two. When you come back, grab the boys a couple of hamburgers from the snack bar.”

“When I come back from where?” Tyler muttered, watching Jenny disappear through the front doors. He’d never seen a woman’s rear end sway with such disdain. She had very fluent body language.

“Back from chasing her down,” Rosie explained kindly. “I’ve never seen you doing the chasing before. This is so entertaining. Don’t forget—two hamburgers. No onions, no mustard. No anything but catsup—you know how they like ’em. And grab me a drink, too. Well, go on. What are you waiting for?”

Tyler bared his teeth at his sister with a frustrated growl, then took off running toward the front doors. He actually felt sorry for Jenny. Rosie’s not-so-subtle sense of humor took a little getting used to. He was half afraid Jenny would plant herself by the side of the highway and hitch a ride with the first trucker that came along.

Once outside, he stopped short. Jenny was nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t figure out how she’d vanished so quickly. She hadn’t had time to cross the street and make it back inside the Cotton Tree. So where was she?

He started jogging again, going back and forth along the rows of parked cars, even stopping once to flop down on his belly and look underneath the parked cars. This woman seemed to have a talent for pulling off disappearing acts.

And then he saw her.

The picture she made took him completely by surprise. She was sitting on the rear bumper of a Ford pickup at the far corner of the parking lot. Her shoulders were slumped, her hands dangled in her lap. Flickering light from the neon Ritz Classic sign colored her small figure with a ghostly rainbow of changing colors. As he stared at the unutterably weary angle of her neck and head, the realization came to him that she was fighting tears. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did.

She looked so small from this distance, like a porcelain doll overwhelmed by the bleak silhouettes of cars and trucks. And oddly exhausted. She was barely fifty feet from the highway; a tanker truck passed and her hair snarled around her head in a wild, wind-whipped cloud. It looked to Tyler as if she had intended to cross the road to the motel, only to make it this far before she ran out of energy.

His throat dry with a sudden anxiety, he started slowly walking toward her. She didn’t hear him coming until he was practically at her side, then her head whipped up and she pushed herself off the bumper in a quick movement. Surprisingly, her eyes were dry, glittering and immediately defensive. No tracks of tears on her pale face, as he’d half expected. Tyler was momentarily off balance. He could have sworn she was crying.

“Don’t tell me,” Jenny said, her voice a bit huskier than usual. “Let me guess. I’m being arrested for leaving a bowling alley in a rude and abrupt manner. Don’t shoot me, Sheriff. I’ll go quietly.”

Tyler smiled faintly. “That’ll be the day.”

“So I’m not breaking any laws?”

“Not if you don’t count disturbing the peace of the sheriff.”

“What a relief. For a minute, there, I thought you were going to revert to Stone-Cold-Steve-Austin mode and toss me over your shoulder again. Just so you know, traveling upside down makes me sick to my stomach.”

Tyler was quiet for a long moment, his thoughtful gaze never leaving hers. “You never take a breather, do you?” he asked finally. “It’s just one wisecrack after another. Why did you run out of the bowling alley like that? Rosie was just speaking her mind, she’s that way with everybody. Her blunt honesty terrifies the men in this town, which explains why she spends Friday nights at the bowling alley with her brother.”

Jenny leaned back against the Ford’s tailgate for support, her arms folded over her chest. Closed, locked away and guarded. “Whatever. I promise I won’t lose any sleep over it. Actually, your sister seemed like a nice person. Kind of hard to believe you two are related.”

“You must have been a porcupine in a past life. Why do you bristle every time I try to make polite conversation? I’m a nice guy, Trouble. No threat at all.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said, mocking him with her wide brown eyes and innocent voice. “I’m like that, completely gullible. Willing to believe anything. Just another empty-headed little woman for you to—”

“Give it a rest, kiddo,” Tyler said quietly. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. You’re okay.”

Any other sort of comment she could have handled easily. But the unexpected sympathetic comment unnerved her. She avoided his eyes, looping her thumbs in her jeans pockets and staring intently at the black asphalt. She counted four flattened wads of bubble gum in one square yard. “Of course I’m okay. I’m always okay.”

Tyler sighed like a man heavily burdened with a puzzle he couldn’t solve. “There you go again, getting all thorny and defensive on me. I’m not here to torture you, believe it or not.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” He paused, picking his words carefully. “You looked…lonely.”

Jenny stared at him. Blunt honesty—she hadn’t expected that. It must run in his family. The physical pain that constantly lived in her chest breathed with new fire, ragged heartbeats filling her throat.

Lonely?

Truth be told, she could hardly remember back to a time when she had been anything but lonely. But she was acutely uncomfortable that he suspected it, that he had recognized it in her. When she had stalked out of the bowling alley, she had been propelled by righteous indignation and an all-too-familiar urge to leave everyone and everything behind. Once outside, however, and without any warning at all, the starless sky had suddenly become too dark and the night too cold and the motel across the street too far away. Too many hurdles to jump. She had sat down on the bumper of the nearest truck and closed her eyes, concentrating on suppressing the cold sickness inside of her. She just needed a little time, like a wounded animal who crawled in a cave to heal. But he had come along and pulled her back to reality before she was prepared to face it again.

“I want you to stay away from me,” she said. “Please.”

And then she pushed past him, her eyes on the neon vacancy sign of the Cotton Tree Motel. Sanctuary. That was where she needed to be right now, holed up in her room with the chain on the door and the curtains drawn. And tomorrow she would be gone from this place, on the road to somewhere new and blessedly unfamiliar.

Afterward she didn’t remember seeing the oncoming car. One second she was furiously walking, thinking and planning, the next she was blinded by headlights, frozen in place like a startled deer trying to cross the road. There was a terrible roaring in her ears: it may have been herself screaming or Tyler shouting or the deafening screech of brakes.

Light and sound, then…nothing.

Tyler never let her out of his arms until they kicked him out of the emergency room at the county hospital. And then he stood immediately outside the little white curtain that was pulled around Jenny’s bed and shouted at the nurses who came and went, feeling as if he was dying by inches. His limited medical training told him Jenny wasn’t seriously injured. Her vital signs were strong, and he’d detected no sign of broken bones. But she hadn’t regained consciousness since the car grazed her, tossing her like a limp rag doll in a sickening somersault onto the soft shoulder of the road.

At that moment Tyler discovered what terror was. He’d faced wild broncos and crazed Brahma bulls, he’d been stomped on, tossed head-over-heels and dragged through the dirt…but never had he been afraid.

Until tonight.

He scarcely drew another breath until nearly an hour later, when Dr. Grady Hansen came out from the curtained cubicle and told him Jenny would be just fine.

“Fine?” Tyler barely recognized the strained sound of his own voice. Grady’s professional opinion was less than reassuring. It was hard to look at someone you’d gotten drunk with in high school and think of him as a qualified doctor. “What do you mean, she’s fine? What about all the blood on her face and hair? She wasn’t even conscious. Did you see her knees, Grady? Her jeans were shredded. And her ankle was swollen. Did you see that?”

“I noticed it, yes.”

“Then what do you mean fine? There was a knot on her head as big as a softball. You’re not very observant, Grady. We need a second opinion—”

“Yell a little louder,” Grady snapped, snagging a fistful of Tyler’s shirt and dragging him out to the waiting room. “There are probably a few ladies in the maternity wing who didn’t hear you.”

“I need a doctor, not a damned comedian.”

“You need a swift kick in the butt,” Grady threw back, unimpressed. “That lady back in there needs a doctor. I’ll be putting a few stitches in her elbow and right knee. I’ve also ordered X rays of her ankle. I’m worried about a fracture. And she has regained consciousness, so relax and go patrol the parking lot or something while I try and do my job, okay? If all goes well, you should be able to take her home in a couple of hours.”

“Home?” Tyler said blankly.

Grady frowned. “She’s a friend of yours, right? When you brought her in, I just assumed…”

Tyler closed his eyes, a wave of relief washing over him. The heavy crushing sensation in the vicinity of his heart finally began to ease. He dropped his body back against the wall, needing the support. “Yes. She’s my friend. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Well, good. I can’t release her unless I know she has someplace to recuperate. Go get yourself a cup of coffee, Ty. You don’t look so hot.” Grady turned away, then looked back over his shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows above his wire-rimmed glasses. “By the way—love the shoes, Sheriff.”

Tyler looked down at his feet. He still wore the ancient red-and-green bowling shoes from the Ritz Classic. Technically speaking, he had just committed his first felony.

He decided against arresting himself. Instead he wandered down the hall to the windowless little room that served as a chapel and sat on a hard wooden bench for over an hour. He didn’t exactly say a prayer of thanks for tonight’s miracle, but he figured that somebody somewhere understood exactly what he was feeling.

Jenny didn’t remember much.

She knew she’d been at the hospital for a time. She recalled talking to a youngish doctor with a droll smile and a reassuring voice. She definitely remembered somebody saying, “This is going to sting a little bit,” as they scrubbed the gravel out of her knees. And she remembered that it had stung more than a little.

At some point a nurse wearing green scrubs had given her a shot in the hip, and Jenny had drifted away in a lovely chemical trance, completely free of pain. End of memory.

A few minutes, a few hours, a few days later, she opened her eyes again. She saw nothing but a bright white light, obscenely bright. She found a blanket beneath her fingers and pulled it up over her head, trying to escape the light. When she emerged again, she did it by painful inches, coming out into the world like a new chick hatching from an egg. She realized several things all at once. She was wearing a completely indecent and undignified hospital gown and nothing else. It was daylight. Most startling, however, was the life-size clown with a shock of orange hair and purple-striped pants floating in the air above the bed.

As her foggy brain cleared a bit, Jenny realized she was looking at a stuffed toy dangling from a giant hook on the ceiling. She looked to her left and saw orange wicker shelves crowded with clowns of every size and every description. She looked to the right and saw a glossy six-by-four poster of a…clown. The bold caption at the bottom read, No Bozos Allowed.

So this was what happened when you died and had too many black marks next to your name. Saint Peter locked the pearly gates against you and sent you to clown hell.

Her vision was growing blurred when the door swung open and Tyler Cook joined her in circus purgatory. He was wearing a blue terry bathrobe and had wet, wild hair hanging down into his eyes. The robe dangled open in a wide vee over his chest and stomach, then was crossed and belted dangerously low on his narrow hips.

He stared at her intently, obviously startled by her tears. “You’re crying,” he said, dumbstruck. In all the painful procedures at the hospital, she had never shed a tear, nor uttered a single ouch. She’d been a rock.

“Am I?” Blinking in confusion, Jenny touched her cheek. Yes, her fingers came away wet. “I didn’t realize. Strange.” She frowned. “What happened to me? I’m feeling…really confused.”

“You’re probably still in shock. You don’t get hit by a Pontiac every day.” Though he tried to sound bright and bracing, Tyler was still suffering the fallout of witnessing her accident. He’d seen one or two bad accidents in his career as the sheriff, but he couldn’t remember a time when he had felt more helpless. He’d seen the car coming at Jenny and had known instantly that he couldn’t get to her in time. He simply had to watch it happen. The horror and sickening fear was still with him, slipping beneath his skin and keeping him constantly chilled. “You gave me a pretty good scare.” A vast understatement.

“My brain is all foggy.” Jenny tried to rub her eyes, then discovered the pads of her fingers were raw and sore, as if they’d been rubbed across a cheese grater. “What did you say? A Pontiac hit me? Well, of all the dumb—ouch, my poor hands…”

Tyler couldn’t quite gauge the degree of her consciousness. She’d come to a couple of times on the way home from the hospital, but never seemed to be completely coherent. She had the same glazed look in her eyes now as she’d had in the emergency room. White face, overbright dark sequins for eyes.

“We’ll backtrack a little,” he said gently. “I just brought you home from the hospital a few hours ago. You don’t remember being in the hospital?”

“I remember…yes, I remember the hospital. And I remember being in a bowling alley. But after that…” She paused, frowning. “No, it’s sort of fuzzy after that. I don’t remember a car hitting me, Pontiac, Chevy or Ford. Although I feel like I took on all three. My whole body hurts.” Then, in a different voice, “Do I bowl?”

“Well, you didn’t last night.” Tyler dredged up a wan smile, trying to look reassuring. Still, something about her glazed expression kicked his heart into double-time. “You were just visiting. You’re not in a league or anything, so relax. It’s all right, everything will fall into place with a little time.”

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