Tyler told himself he should drop his hold on Rosa’s arm, yet he couldn’t bring himself to lose the contact.

Her skin was warm and soft and her nearness made him feel like a man again. A man strong enough to love and protect a woman.

He eased his hand onto her shoulder. The moment his fingers pressed into her bare skin, her face twisted around to his, her lips parted and Tyler’s heartbeat quickened.

“There are other ways for a man and woman to learn about each other besides talking,” he murmured.

“Mr Pickens, I—”

“It’s Tyler to you.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Ty, if you’d like.”

Her dark eyes widened just a fraction as they settled on his mouth. “Ty.”

The whisper of his name was all that passed her lips before he decided to cover them with a kiss.

About the Author

STELLA BAGWELL has written more than seventy novels for Mills & Boon. She credits her loyal readers and hopes her stories have brightened their lives in some small way.

A cowgirl through and through, she loves to watch old Westerns, and has recently learned how to rope a steer. Her days begin and end helping her husband care for a beloved herd of horses on their little ranch located on the south Texas coast. When she’s not ropin’ and ridin’, you’ll find her at her desk, creating her next tale of love.

The couple have a son, who is a high school math teacher and athletic coach. Stella loves to hear from readers and invites them to contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com.

The Deputy Gets Her Man

Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To Marie Ferrarella, who inspired me long before she became my dear friend. Love and thanks. Always.

Chapter One

The sudden sound of footsteps had Rosalinda Lightfoot turning to see Tyler Pickens stepping onto the porch. At least, she figured the tall, imposing figure of a man had to be the owner of the Pine Ridge Ranch. He certainly looked the part. Dressed in jeans and boots and a cream-colored shirt, she figured him to be somewhere in his thirties. Black hair was combed straight back from a darkly tanned face while the expression on his lean features was nothing but grim.

Quickly rising to her feet, Rosalinda placed her coffee on a table next to her lawn chair. As she extended her hand in greeting, she felt a shiver rush down her spine and her pulse leap into a rapid thud.

She spoke first. “Good morning, Mr. Pickens.”

For one awkward moment she thought he was going to ignore her outstretched hand, but then he wrapped his big fingers tightly around hers and she was acutely aware of warm, abrasive skin and tempered strength.

“Deputy Lightfoot,” he said. “I was expecting a man.”

She met his gaze head-on and the coolness of his green eyes was like sliding across an icy pond that could break through at any given moment. Interviewing this man was definitely going to be a challenge, she thought. But being a deputy for the Lincoln County Sheriff’s Department made it a part of her job.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she replied.

Releasing her hand, he gestured to the seat she’d just vacated. “Sit,” he insisted.

While she followed his suggestion, he pulled up a matching chair and positioned it so that he was facing her.

As she furtively watched him settle back and cross his boots at the ankles, the relaxed language of his body surprised her. She’d expected to find a tense, rigid man ready to explode at any moment. Perhaps the rumors she’d heard about the man were exaggerated or wrong. Or maybe his moods were always changing. In any case, there was something about him that made it impossible for her to tear her gaze away. He’d not expected her to be a woman. Well, she’d certainly not expected him to look so tough and masculine.

Sharp cheekbones angled beneath his hooded eyes, while a thin, aquiline nose led down to a pair of rough-hewn lips. He was the epitome of man, sex and whipcord strength, and for the first time in a long, long time Rosalinda felt the woman in her staring with interest.

Sipping the coffee that Gib, the house servant, had kindly served her, she gave herself a mental shake. The lack of sleep last night must have left her punch-drunk. Normally, she never looked at a man the way she was looking at Tyler Pickens now.

Clearing her throat, she said, “I’ll try to make this quick, Mr. Pickens. I understand you’re busy dealing with the mess the fire left behind.”

“Ah, yes,” he said softly, “the fire. The reason for your little visit. I don’t suppose you have any information on how it started.”

“Not yet,” she said briskly. Before she’d made the trek out here, Undersheriff Brady Donovan had briefed her on all he knew about Tyler Pickens. During that meeting she’d learned he was a single man and had been ever since he’d moved to this ranch over nine years ago. No one had heard or seen family visiting and the only friends he seemed to have were his ranch hands. And Laramie Jones, the foreman of the Chaparral Ranch and Tyler’s neighbor to the south, had a somewhat amiable relationship with him.

He grimaced. “I should have known better than to ask that question. You probably wouldn’t tell me even if you had a long list of suspects or motives.”

“Probably not,” she said, softening her reply with a faint smile. As best as she could gauge, last night’s fire had stopped at the river, which was situated no more than three miles from the Pine Ridge ranch house. The brunt of the flames had spread mostly over the Chaparral Ranch, the Cantrells’ land, blackening and scorching acres and acres of forest and meadowlands. Thankfully, Laramie Jones and his crew had saved the Chaparral livestock by working through the night to move the cattle as far away from the fire as possible. As for Tyler Pickens, he’d not reported any cattle dead or missing.

“So what do you expect to get out of me?” he asked. “I can’t do your job for you.”

Trying her best not to bristle at his cocky attitude, she purposely delayed answering as she took another leisurely sip of coffee. Maybe he didn’t have friends or family around him because they found him too difficult to deal with, she thought. Or maybe the fire had left him in a testy state of mind.

“I’m glad you realize it’s not your job to play lawman. Arson is a serious matter.” Lowering her cup to her thigh, she noticed he was looking at her keenly now, as though seeing a woman with a weapon strapped to her hip was an oddity or completely distasteful to him. The idea had her lifting her chin and calling upon the confidence that Sheriff Hamilton had tried to instill in her. He’d often called her a good deputy. She had to believe the good sheriff. Moreover, she had to believe in herself.

His green eyes narrowed. “So the fire chief has ruled the incident as arson?”

“Accelerants were used.” She wasn’t going to elaborate on the evidence. To do so might compromise the case, especially when she didn’t yet know whether this man was involved.

“That’s hardly a surprise.” Faint sarcasm tinged his words. “There wasn’t a lightning strike within a hundred miles of here last night.”

She wondered if anyone had ever tried to slap that smirk from his face. It certainly wouldn’t be an easy feat to accomplish, she decided. The man was a picture of toughness.

“Other things can cause fires, Mr. Pickens. Like cigarettes, campfires, burning trash, welding sparks—just to name a few. Were any of your men working in the area yesterday where the fire started?”

His black brows formed a straight line across his forehead. “Why the hell are you questioning me about my men? The Cantrells are the ones you should be interrogating!”

His defensive attitude didn’t surprise Rosalinda. From what she’d learned, this past year the adjoining Chaparral Ranch had been plagued with all sorts of problems. Some of which had spilled over onto the Pine Ridge Ranch. And Tyler Pickens hadn’t been bashful about voicing his displeasure over the matter. But that could be a guise, she told herself. He could be pretending to be a victim when in actuality he was the instigator. But why would this man want to cause trouble for the Cantrells? And did he really seem the criminal type?

But Dale’s ex-girlfriend never seemed like a psycho, she reminded herself. On the outside, Monique had resembled a shy, soft-spoken librarian with hardly the gumption to say boo to a mouse. But she’d been an obsessed woman with evil intent on her mind. She fooled the hell out of you and your boyfriend. You need to remember that appearances can lead you in a dangerous direction.

Shoving aside the cold little voice in her head, she said, “Deputy Harrigan is currently at the Chaparral Ranch interrogating folks there.”

The subtle flare of his nostrils told her that he was struggling to keep a rein on his temper. But in all fairness, the man had every right to be aggravated. He’d had a portion of his land burned to a crisp and now he was being interrogated by the law. Under those conditions, no normal person would be in a happy mood.

A sneer lifted one corner of his lips. “So they sent you up here to dig into my ranch and my personal business.”

Her backbone straightened to a rigid line. “I’m hoping that digging won’t be necessary, Mr. Pickens. I expect you’ll want to help in this investigation, to volunteer anything and everything that might help us discover who committed this devastating crime.”

Long, tense seconds ticked by as his cool gaze slipped over her face, her khaki shirt, then on to the long line of her legs. In spite of the fact that many women were working in law enforcement these days, they were still sometimes subjected to nasty slurs and sexual insults. But the look in Tyler Pickens’s eyes said he wasn’t dismissing her as a deputy sheriff, he was seeing her as a woman. And that unsettled her far more than his brash attitude.

“How long have you worked for Sheriff Hamilton?” he asked.

This was her interview, not his. Still, she didn’t want to make him so angry that he clammed up. Like it or not, she needed this man’s cooperation.

“Long enough,” she answered evasively. She wasn’t about to tell him she’d only worked as a Lincoln County deputy for eight months. He’d think she was too inexperienced. He couldn’t know that prior to becoming a deputy sheriff, she’d already worked a year and a half for the Ruidoso Police Department. And since becoming a deputy she and her partner had already busted a major theft ring, helped capture two fugitives and recovered stolen livestock.

His gaze settled on her left hand. “You have a family, Ms. Lightfoot?”

Why would he be asking her something that personal? she wondered. It was none of his business. “Deputy Lightfoot,” she corrected him. “And no. Do you?” she countered.

Even though his gaze slipped from hers, she could tell by the tight corners of his mouth that he didn’t appreciate her question. Why? Was he estranged from his family?

“No,” he answered. “Except for my cook, Gib Easton, I live here alone.”

“Hmm. Must get lonely,” she mused aloud. “Lonely enough to want to create a little excitement by setting a fire?”

His response was a deep, rich laugh that had Rosalinda staring at him in wonder. The dimples in his hollow cheeks, the gleam of white teeth against his dark skin was so endearing she found herself smiling along with him.

“You find that funny?” she finally asked.

“Very.” Rising to his feet, he walked over to the edge of the concrete porch and with one hand made a sweeping gesture toward the mountain range to the right of them, the narrow valley directly below and in the far distance, the glint of a river winding its way southward. “All of this is mine, Deputy Lightfoot. I’ve worked hard to make it into the ranch it is today. I get excitement from watching a calf born or a foal running at its mother’s side. Not from flames eating up my precious grazing land.”

He made perfect sense. Draining the last of her coffee, she placed the cup and saucer aside and walked over to where Tyler Pickens stood next to an arched column of rock that supported the porch roof.

If she were to get really close to the man, she thought, the top of her head would do well to reach the middle of his chest. A fact that had nothing to do with the matter at hand, she quickly reminded herself, so why was she thinking it? After the long, nightmarish ordeal she’d been through with Dale, she’d not wanted to be close to a man again. Neither physically nor emotionally. But something about this rugged rancher was making her forget the heartache and fear that she’d endured.

Clearing her throat, she tried her best to focus on her job. “How long have you owned this ranch?” she asked, even though county records had already told her.

He glanced at her. “Nearly ten years.”

Beyond the manicured lawn shaded by huge Ponderosa pines, the ground sloped away to a green valley floor, where the working ranch yard was located. From her angle, she could see a maze of barns, sheds and corrals. Cowboys on horseback were moving cattle from pen to pen, while others pitched hay and spread feed into mangers and troughs. Cows bawled and a horse’s loud whinny was answered by its nearby pal. It was a beautiful June morning in southern New Mexico, the kind that could almost make a person forget that something bad had happened the night before.

Keeping her voice brisk, she said, “I understand you asked Quint Cantrell to sell a stretch of Chaparral land to you and he refused.”

“That’s right. A couple of years ago, I approached him about buying a piece of land that runs adjacent to my property. Most of it is grazing land, something I need more of. Neither he nor his grandfather wanted to part with it.”

“Did that make you angry?”

He looked utterly bored. And perhaps he did consider her questions stupid, but to her it was legitimate.

“Disappointed, Deputy Lightfoot. Not angry. I’m still hoping that someday they’ll have a change of heart. In the meantime, I don’t want their land burned or any other mishap to happen to their ranch. I happen to like the family.”

“But you are aware that the Chaparral Ranch has been experiencing some problems.”

“That’s a damned fool remark! You bet your ass I’m aware of it! I run purebred Herefords up here. I don’t want any of their Angus bulls over here breeding my cows! I don’t want my fences cut or my cattle straying off their home range! I’m sick of Cantrell problems turning into mine!”

His icy eyes were now spitting fire, making it clear to Rosalinda that he was a passionate man.

“I can appreciate that,” she told him.

“Somehow I doubt that.” As quickly as it flared, the anger disappeared from his face. “The Cantrells are an old, established family around here. They’re known and loved by a lot of folks. I’m still considered a Texan, an interloper. Nobody gives a damn what happens on the the Pine Ridge Ranch.”

She turned a thoughtful gaze toward the busy ranch yard. “Frankie Cantrell, Quint’s mother, is from Texas. In fact, she’s back there now visiting her older sons. Did you know that?”

“Is that question a part of your investigation?”

“No. Just my curiosity.”

A disapproving groove appeared between his brows, and Rosalinda got the impression he wasn’t used to having personal questions directed at him. And suddenly she was wondering about far more than his feelings toward the Cantrells or their adjoining land. This ranch was even more remote than the Chaparral and he’d already admitted that he lived here alone. Outside of raising cattle and horses, what did he do for companionship?

Apparently deciding she was simply talking as one person to another, he said, “Yes, we’re both from Texas. Back there I lived on my parents’ ranch, the Rocking P, just west of Austin. But Mrs. Cantrell said she’d lived in the southeast, in Goliad County, and we’d never met before I moved here.”

“What made you want to come to New Mexico?”

“To make a place of my own. And I like this area.”

“It’s a far distance from Austin,” she stated the obvious.

“That’s one of the reasons I like it,” he said flatly.

Which could only mean he’d left something behind there, Rosalinda decided. The same way she’d left a part of her life behind in Gallop. But none of that had anything to do with the present.

“Well, concerning the fire, Mr. Pickens, do you have any reason to think one, or more, of your hands might have set the blaze?”

Expecting him to lash out again, he surprised her by shrugging. “All my men have been with me for several years now. They’re good, dependable guys.”

Folding his arms against his chest, he turned toward her and Rosalinda’s gaze was drawn to the fabric stretched across his biceps, the cuffs rolled against his corded forearms. “Don’t get me wrong, Deputy Lightfoot. There’ve been squabbles among my hands. Throw ten men together for eight, ten, twelve hours a day and eventually there’ll be friction. But nothing serious between them and the Chaparral hands.”

“Do you know if any of them are buddies with Chaparral hands?”

“Not that I’m aware of. You’d have to ask them.”

She nodded. “Well, I would like to speak with your men. Ask them a few questions,” she told him.

“If you want to talk with Gib, you’ll find him in the kitchen. The rest you should find down there.” He jerked his head in the direction of the ranch yard. “But I wouldn’t expect any confessions,” he added wryly.

She shot him a cool smile. “I’m not expecting confessions, Mr. Pickens. I’m looking for pieces of information that will tell me the comings and goings of your men prior to the fire.”

She drew a card from her jeans pocket and handed it to him. “Here’s my name and a sheriff’s department number where you can reach me. If you think of anything that might be helpful in this matter, don’t hesitate to call.”

He took the card and without looking at it, stuffed the piece of paper into the pocket on his shirt. “I’ll do that.”

Extending her hand to him, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Pickens. I, or someone with the department, will keep you informed.”

“I would appreciate that,” he said.

He took her hand again, only this time he didn’t shake it, he simply held it. Heat swam beneath the surface of her cheeks, and Rosalinda felt a strange current pulling her toward the rancher.

Disturbed by the sensation, Rosalinda withdrew her hand and stepped off the ground-level porch. As she strode to her truck, she felt his gaze following her, but she didn’t look back to confirm her feelings. For now, she’d seen enough of Tyler Pickens.

Chapter Two

Back on the porch, Tyler picked up the deputy’s empty cup and entered the house. In the kitchen he found Gib cleaning up the aftermath of their breakfast.

Upon hearing Tyler’s footsteps, the older man, who possessed a head full of snow-white hair and a brown, leathery face, glanced over his shoulder to study him with faded blue eyes. “That was short and sweet.”

Short? Tyler felt as though his time on the porch with Ms. Lightfoot had stretched into hours instead of a few minutes. As for the sweet, he couldn’t deny the deputy had caught his attention. Not with her words, but with her looks.

He didn’t know what the hell had just happened to him. He wasn’t interested in women in that way. Not since DeeDee. She’d torn a hole right down the center of his dreams, his hopes and everything he’d planned for his future. She’d driven a wedge between him and his family and ripped his world apart in the process. Because of DeeDee, the thought of any woman these past ten years had chilled him. Yet something about Rosalinda Lightfoot had snared every masculine cell in his body and had him staring at her like a damned fool.

“She didn’t have that many questions.” He dropped the cup into a sink of sudsy water. “I tried to tell her she’s wasting her time questioning me and my men.”

Gib walked over to a round wooden table and gathered up a handful of condiments. “Is she?”

His mind still swirling with the image of the woman’s long, dark hair, chocolate-brown eyes and soft pink lips, Tyler looked at his longtime friend and employee.

“Are you implying that one of us is an arsonist?”

The crevices around Gib’s mouth curved downward toward his chin. “Sometimes people are good at hiding things about themselves.”

Gib Easton had once worked on the Rocking P for Tyler’s father, Warren, but when Tyler had decided to make the move to New Mexico, the man had chosen to accompany him here to this mountain ranch. Gib had been one of the few people who’d clearly seen that Warren Pickens played favorites with his twin sons and that Tyler had always ended up with the short straw. He’d always been grateful for Gib’s support. Now their years together had made Gib the one man Tyler could completely trust.

“That’s true,” Tyler admitted. “But I have faith in my men.”

“Art and Joey were riding fence in that area yesterday. Sawyer told me that much.”

“Think about it, Gib. Can you picture those two carrying jugs of gasoline on their horses? Not likely.”

The older man cocked a curious brow at him. “Gas was used to start the fire?”

Clearly annoyed with himself for letting a woman rattle him, Tyler muttered, “Damn it, I don’t know. Deputy Lightfoot said some sort of accelerant was used. I just assumed it was gasoline.”

Gib crossed the room and shoved the salt and pepper shakers onto a cabinet shelf. “What else did she say?”

Pausing at the table, Tyler glanced out the glass patio doors situated a few steps away. From this angle, he could see the deputy’s truck parked near the main barn, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. Nor were any of his ranch hands. She probably had them gathered in the barn. Or maybe she was cagey enough to talk to each of them independently. Either way, Tyler could imagine how the men would react to her. She was as sexy as hell. The kind of woman that made a man think of long, pleasurable nights.

“She wanted to know if I was angry enough at Quint Cantrell to want to burn his land.”

Comical confusion wrinkled the older man’s features. “Where did she get that idea? Quint is a friend. At least, he’s always appeared to be friendly.”

“Because Quint wouldn’t sell me that tract of land near the river she thinks I might have wanted revenge.”

Gib shook his head. “Why, that was more than two years ago. Took you a damned long time to retaliate.”

Tyler sighed. “It’s her job to ask questions. She’s down at the ranch yard now with the men.”

“And you didn’t go with her?” Gib was clearly aghast. “Those guys will eat her up.”

“I wasn’t invited. Besides, I have a feeling Deputy Lightfoot can handle herself.” And if he got wind that even one man was rude to her, he’d personally punch him out. He wouldn’t tolerate his men behaving in any way less than respectable.

“I hope you’re right,” Gib replied.

Tyler walked over to a corner of the room and after plucking his cowboy hat from a hall tree, he levered the gray felt onto his head. “I have to go to town, so I won’t be here for lunch.”

Gib’s voice followed him as he strode to the door. “You know what people think of you, Ty. They think you’re trouble.”

Tyler’s jaw tightened. Yeah, he was trouble, he thought bitterly. All he’d ever done in his life was try to walk the straight and narrow, to do the right thing no matter what it cost. And it had cost him one hell of a lot.

“I don’t give a damn what people think,” Tyler muttered.

“Not here. But back in Texas …”

“Was a lifetime ago, Gib. That doesn’t matter.” He paused at the open doorway long enough to cast the cook a pointed look. “If you’re worried my reputation is going to get you in trouble, you don’t have to hang around and wait for the axe to fall. You going back to the Rocking P would give Dad one more reason to gloat.”

“Gloat, hell! Warren Pickens will never see this old man again. Dead or alive.” The older man shoved his hands into the soapy water and began to scrub a plate. “My home is here with you. Is that settled?”

This was the perfect time to tell Gib just how grateful he was for his unwavering loyalty, Tyler thought. But he’d never learned to actually form the sentiments in his heart into words. He’d always believed in letting his actions speak for his feelings. While his twin brother had been exactly the opposite. He’d had a gift of gab and affectionate phrases had rolled off his tongue like molasses off a hot biscuit. And they’d meant little more.

“It’s settled,” Tyler said, then moved to the older man and clasped his shoulder briefly. “I’ll be back by midafternoon.”

Minutes later, Tyler was driving through a section of road where flames had eaten grass and underbrush right up to the edge of the bar ditch. Slowing the truck, he stared with disgust at the soot-covered ground, the charred tree trunks. The person responsible needed to be choked to within an inch of his life, just to show him how the wildlife felt when they were being consumed with smoke and running for their lives.

But he wasn’t going to hold out much hope that the sheriff’s department would find the culprit. Unless they’d found plenty of worthwhile clues at the origin of the fire. And if that had been the case, Deputy Lightfoot hadn’t let on. No, she’d been wasting time with useless questions about his feelings toward the Cantrells.

Trying not to think about Rosalinda Lightfoot, he pressed down on the accelerator. After rounding a sharp bend in the road, he spotted a Chaparral truck parked at the edge of the narrow dirt path. Seeing Laramie Jones sitting beneath the steering wheel, Tyler pulled alongside the vehicle and stopped. As he rolled down his window, Laramie did the same.

“Out surveying the damage?” Tyler asked the dark-haired cowboy. Laramie had been the foreman of the huge neighboring ranch for far longer than Tyler had lived in New Mexico.

He shot Tyler a weary grin. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Amen to that. You lose any cattle?”

“No,” Laramie answered. “What about yourself?”

“One cow cut her leg, that’s all,” Tyler told him. “She must have spooked and bolted through the fence. Thankfully, most of the herd was up on a higher range last night.”

“That’s good,” Laramie replied.

Was the other man thinking how convenient that sounded? Tyler wondered. Was Laramie part of the group that considered him to be nothing but trouble? He didn’t want to think so. Laramie Jones was one of the few men who had befriended him since he’d moved here.

I don’t give a damn what people think.

Tyler’s outburst to Gib a few minutes ago hadn’t been completely true, he thought. He didn’t mind if people considered him cocky, or hot-tempered or a weird recluse. Those were trivial and sometimes even accurate descriptions of him. But the idea that anyone might consider him a criminal was another matter completely.

“A deputy is up at the ranch right now questioning my men.” Pulling off his dark aviator glasses, he looked directly at the foreman. “If any of them had anything to do with this, Laramie, I want them to be severely punished.”

“I have no doubts about that. A couple of deputies are at our place, too. Let’s hope they get to the bottom of this. And quick.”

Tyler released a heavy breath. “So how is Quint taking all this? Last night when we were moving cattle I didn’t see him around.”

“He’s angry and worried. That’s how he’s taking it. His wife, Maura, is pregnant and last night she was so upset over the fire that I convinced him to stay with her and let the rest of us men handle the cattle.”

From what Tyler understood, the baby was going to be Quint’s third child, coming after two young sons. In all honesty, Tyler had to admit he was envious of the man. At one time in his life he’d wanted children desperately. More than anything, he’d wanted to be a father and raise his children far from the stranglehold Warren Pickens had placed upon him. But DeeDee hadn’t wanted to be a mother. Hell, after less than a year of being married, she’d not even wanted to be his wife. She’d wanted to have fun and enjoy herself. And Tyler’s twin, Trent, had been more than eager and willing to show her a good time.

Now, nearly ten years later, Tyler fought to forget how he’d bent over backward to please his young but fickle wife. In the end, she’d not been worth his efforts and all his trying had made him look like an even bigger fool. Especially with his father continually taunting him with warnings that Trent was the man DeeDee really loved. And as it turned out, Warren’s stinging predictions had come true. In the end, DeeDee had divorced him and married Trent. Not only that, the two of them had moved in to the very house that Tyler had originally built for himself and his wife.

Hell, what was he doing thinking about DeeDee or Trent at a time like this? Tyler wondered, as he gave himself a mental shake. He didn’t give a damn about either one of them. They deserved each other.

Putting the truck into gear, he said, “Well, you and Quint have my number. If either of you need me for anything, just call.”

“Thanks.”

Tyler lifted a hand in farewell and put the truck into motion. A quarter of a mile down the road, his cell phone rang and seeing the caller was his foreman, he quickly answered. “Yeah, Sawyer?”

“Sorry to bother you, Ty. But you’d better get back here to the ranch. Quick.”

Tyler bit back a sigh of frustration. Sawyer was a competent man. He didn’t annoy Tyler with trivial problems, so clearly something had to be wrong. “What the hell has happened now?”

“It’s that deputy. Seems as though Santo didn’t take too kindly to some of her questions. He blew his stack and told her he’d taken feed sacks, a jug of kerosene and a cigarette lighter down to the property line and set the fire. Said he’d wanted to burn every damned Cantrell to a crisp! Now she’s about to haul him to jail!”

Muttering a curse under his breath, he promptly jammed on the brakes and wheeled the truck around in the middle of the road. “Stall her if you can! I’ll be right there.”

When Tyler reached the ranch yard he instantly spotted Santo standing at the front of the deputy’s vehicle with his hands cuffed behind his back. Sawyer and two other cowboys were standing several yards away, anxiously watching the scene unfold. Instead of worrying that his men might cross the line with the pretty deputy, Tyler realized he should’ve been more concerned about her taking advantage of his men.

After braking the truck to a jarring halt, Tyler leaped to the ground. He trotted over to where Deputy Lightfoot was speaking on a two-way radio affixed to the dashboard of her truck.

He waited until she leaned across the seat to hang the mike back on its holder before lashing out at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Slowly turning from the vehicle, she fastened a look of warning on him. “That should be clear to you. I’m taking your employee into custody.”

Tyler would be the first to turn over any man on this ranch if he was guilty. But the only thing Santo would set a match to was a candle when he said a prayer. “That’s stupid! Santo hasn’t done anything!”

Her lips pressed tightly together as her dark brown eyes leveled a pointed look at him and at that moment the odd thought of kissing her shot through his mind. What would it feel like to pry those lips of hers apart and feel the soft skin of her cheek pressed against his?

Her voice suddenly interrupted his wandering thoughts. “Mr. Pickens, I suggest you let the law do its job. Otherwise, you might find yourself in a pair of handcuffs.”

He didn’t know whether to burst out laughing or curse. “If you haul Santo to jail, you’ll be making a huge mistake.”

“Your man just confessed to the crime,” she retorted. “I’d be stupid not to arrest him.”

“You insulted him. He said all of that out of spite because he’s angry!”

Stepping forward, she wrapped a hand against the back of Tyler’s arm and urged him several feet away from the vehicle and out of the earshot of Santo and the other men. Tyler was acutely aware of the warm weight of her hand, the flowery scent wafting to his nostrils.

“Mr. Pickens,” she said lowly. “When I left your house less than an hour ago, you implied you had no qualms about me interrogating your men. Now here you are interfering. Maybe you should start explaining yourself.”

It suddenly dawned on Tyler that if their roles were reversed, he wouldn’t be showing the calm patience that she was projecting at the moment. The insight was enough to dissolve his anger and make him even more aware of her touch and the deep, dark depth of her eyes.

“Okay, I’m guilty of interfering. I’m sorry. But in this case I think you need to know what’s going on here.”

Dropping her hand away from his arm, she rested her hands on her hips. “Hmm. Well, exactly what is going on here?”

“Santo couldn’t have started the fire. Yesterday I sent him over to Roswell to pick up a horse. He didn’t return until late in the evening and when the fire started, Santo and I were both down at the stables dealing with the new horse.” He inclined his head to a point beyond her shoulder, where a long barn with a wide roof protecting the whole length of the building, which stabled more than two dozen horses. “We’d barely gotten the horse unloaded and into its stall when we started to smell smoke.”

She stared back at him as she weighed the sincerity of his words. Then, finally, she inclined her head toward Santo. “I’ll talk to him again. You come with me. But don’t say a word. Understand?”

“Santo will hear a few choice words from me,” he assured her. “But that will be later.”

Seeming to accept his promise, she motioned for him to join her and they quickly returned to where his chief wrangler stood passively waiting for the deputy to haul him away.

A man in his sixties, Santo had worked for Tyler for eight years and since his wife had died several months ago, he’d moved into the bunkhouse and lived on the ranch full-time. Tyler understood the man was going through a tough emotional patch. Otherwise, he would have fired him for pulling such a stunt with Deputy Lightfoot.

She said to Santo, “I think you’d better tell me your story again, Mr. Garza. It’s not adding up to your boss’s account of your activities yesterday.”

Remorseful now, the man looked at her, then Tyler. “Okay. I was gone to Roswell. I didn’t set no fire,” he mumbled.

Her eyes rolled with utter frustration. “You stated that you wanted to burn every Cantrell to a crisp. If you didn’t set the fire, what was that about?”

“I added that for good measure,” the wrangler explained. “Miss Deputy, don’t you know when someone is feeding you a line of bullsh—uh—manure?”

She shot Tyler an exasperated look. “Evidently your man doesn’t understand he can get into deep trouble by lying to a law official. I could take him in, you know. For giving false statements, impeding an investigation and—”

“But you won’t,” Tyler interrupted. “Because you and I both know that Sheriff Hamilton doesn’t have time to deal with this sort of nonsense.”

“Neither do I,” she snapped.

Turning to Santo, she gave him a stern upbraiding before finally releasing him from the handcuffs. The horse wrangler didn’t press his luck by hanging around or tossing any more sarcastic jabs at the deputy, especially in front of his boss. Instead, he quickly headed in the direction of the stables with the other three ranch hands close behind him.

Lifting his hat from his head, Tyler raked a hand through his thick hair and heaved out a weary breath. This morning was hardly going as planned. “I’m sorry about this, Deputy Lightfoot. Santo is—well, he’s an independent cuss. He sometimes has the idea that rules are for other people to follow, not him. Believe me, I’ll get the message over to him.”

“That might be a good idea. Before he gets himself into a serious situation.”

She walked around the truck to where the driver’s door still stood ajar. Within the cab, he could hear the dispatcher relaying information to another officer and Tyler suddenly wondered if Deputy Lightfoot had already alerted the sheriff that she was making an arrest regarding the fire. He hoped not. It would hardly shed a positive light on her ability to judge people and the situation.

Whether she makes a fool of herself or not is hardly your business, Tyler. If she takes a fall for mishandling the investigation, it’s not your worry.

Even though the pestering voice in his head was giving him good advice, he pushed the annoying noise aside. For some reason he didn’t understand, he wanted this woman to succeed. And not just because it would be to his advantage to have the arsonist found and punished. No, this was a personal feeling. Something he’d been short on for a long, long while.

“Are you finished interviewing the men?” he asked.

“For now.” She climbed into the truck, shut the door, then looked out at him through the open window.

Amazed by the crazy pull she had on him, he couldn’t stop himself from stepping closer to the truck door. “I’d like to thank you again, Deputy Lightfoot, for being so understanding about Santo. His wife died a few months ago and he’s been struggling to get back to normal. If not for that, I would fire him. As it is—”

“Forget it,” she cut in briskly. Then, turning her focus back inside the truck, she started the engine.

“I’d rather buy your dinner,” he said, unable to stop the rush of words from tumbling out of him. “Just to show my gratitude.”

That jerked her head around, and Tyler could see shock arching her black brows and widening her dark brown eyes.

“Sorry. It’s against department policy to accept gratuities,” she said stiffly.

“Okay. Is it against department policy for deputies to eat dinner?”

A grimace tightened her lips. “No. We do get to eat from time to time.”

“Then would it be a crime for someone to sit down at your table and eat at the same time you were eating?”

She stared at him. “No. But you paying for it would be.”

He grinned and was totally amazed at the spurt of excitement skittering along his veins.

“Well, Deputy Lightfoot, you know how things sometimes go at busy restaurants. Meal tickets get mixed up. One diner’s order might get added to someone else’s. It’s all just innocent confusion.”

He could see the corners of her mouth twitch, making it clear that she was trying her best not to smile. The idea pleased him far more than it should have.

“You know, Mr. Pickens, right now you’re proving to me that you’d make a perfect criminal.”

He chuckled. “Perfect, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She let out an exasperated breath; then, after a few moments of mulling over the idea, she said, “All right. It just so happens that tonight I’ll be having a meal at the Blue Mesa. If you just so happen to stop by about eight o’clock, I’ll be sitting there in a booth.”

“Eight o’clock!” he exclaimed. “That late?”

“I’m working a split shift today. Some of us don’t get to hang up our spurs after the sun goes down, Mr. Pickens.”

Casting her a suggestive smile, he said, “Sometimes I wear mine all night, Rosalinda.”

“Deputy Lightfoot to you, Mr. Pickens.”

Before he could make a reply to that, the window slid upward and he could do nothing more but watch as she reversed the truck away from the barn, then drove away.

The dust of her vehicle had barely dissipated with the wind when a voice sounded directly behind him.

“What the hell was that?”

Turning, Tyler saw that Gib had walked up behind him. Apparently, the cook had noticed something going on here at the ranch yard and had walked down to check things out for himself.

“That was the deputy leaving,” Tyler told him.

“I’m not talking about the deputy. I meant you laughing. What was that all about? I can’t see anything amusing about part of the ranch going up in smoke and the law snooping all over the place.”

It was about him flirting and actually getting a charge out of the whole exchange between himself and the sexy deputy, Tyler could have told him. But Gib didn’t need to know that; especially since it had been a momentary thing. He didn’t want the older man worrying that he was going to get himself involved in another painful position with a woman. Because that was the last thing Tyler would ever do again.

“Oh. I’m just feeling good, I guess.”

Frowning, Gib said, “You sure as hell weren’t feeling good when you left to go to town a while ago.”

“That was before I saw parts of the burn in daylight. Made me realize how lucky I was to only lose one hay meadow and no cows.”

Gib thoughtfully stroked a thumb and forefinger against his chin. “That’s so. But she—that deputy—was about to haul Santo off to jail. I thought you’d be upset with her.”

“No need for that. She came around to my way of thinking.”

Gib studied him for another moment and then, with a puzzled shake of his head, replied, “I’m going to the house.”

The cook had taken only a few strides in the direction of the sprawling hacienda when Tyler called out to him. “Don’t bother making supper for me tonight. I’ll be eating in Ruidoso.”

Halting in his tracks, Gib glanced over his shoulder. “You’ll be eating supper in Ruidoso, too? Why?”

“I’ve got a date. That’s why.”

Turning, Tyler walked to his truck to leave the flabbergasted cook staring after him.

Chapter Three

“Rosa, you look so pretty tonight!” Loretta, a longtime Blue Mesa waitress, stepped back from the booth and gave Rosalinda a full-length inspection. “I can’t ever remember seeing you in a skirt. Must be something special going on.”

Loretta’s remark brought a sting of heat to Rosalinda’s face. She’d donned the turquoise tank top and white tiered skirt because it was a warm summer evening. Not because there was anything special about tonight, other than the idea that Tyler Pickens might walk through the door and sit across from her.

Ever since she’d driven from the Pine Ridge Ranch this morning, she’d been asking herself exactly what she was doing. Cozying up to the enemy or simply wanting to be a woman again? No matter which way she answered, it would be wrong. Outside of an official interview, she had no business conversing in any form or fashion with Tyler Pickens. And why would she want to? He wasn’t the most charming or sociable guy she’d met in the past few years, though he was probably the sexiest. He was also a mystery. One that she wanted to unravel.

“Nothing special, Loretta. I do wear skirts and dresses, you just always happen to see me whenever I’m working.”

The young woman with a long red ponytail pulled out her order pad. “That’s for sure. You’re always working. Especially at this time of night.”

“I worked overtime last night investigating the fire out on the Chaparral Ranch. So I got off early this evening.”

Loretta tapped the end of her pencil against her chin. “Oh, yeah, I heard about the fire. Have you caught the person who set it?”

She gave the waitress a sidelong glance. “How did you know that someone set it? It could’ve been a wildfire.”

Loretta chuckled. “Rosa, you know how word gets around. Lawmen are in here for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Besides, if it had been a simple wildfire you wouldn’t have been working overtime.”

“You’re a smart girl,” Rosalinda said wryly. “What are you doing wasting away here in this restaurant?”

A furtive look came over the waitress’s face. “Waiting for a man to walk through that door and sweep me off my aching feet.”

She might as well keep waiting, Rosalinda could’ve told her. Gallant knights didn’t ride up to restaurants and save damsels in distress. A few years ago Rosalinda had worked as a waitress, too, at the Brown Bear Cantina, a dingy little diner down on the Mescalero Apache Reservation. During that time she’d fallen in love with a regular customer, but her feelings had all been one-sided. Johnny Chino had loved someone else and was now happily married to the woman. Thankfully, he’d never really guessed her flirting meant anything serious. Otherwise, it would be awkward working as his fellow deputy now.

“Good luck,” Rosalinda told her.

A customer at another table called out to Loretta and she said to Rosalinda, “I’d better go check on that table. I’ll get your coffee on the way back.”

The waitress swished away from the corner booth and because she was nervous, Rosalinda picked up the menu that Loretta had left behind. The Blue Mesa wasn’t a fancy place. But the simple, home-cooked food was so good that patrons ignored the scruffy seating and worn tile. The old establishment had been a focal point on Mechem Drive for more than five decades, and during all those years the city police and county law officers had used it as a gathering place.

Moments later, Loretta returned with her coffee and as Rosalinda stirred a huge dollop of half-and-half into the cup, she heard the bell over the front door jingle.

Glancing up, her heart immediately gave a hard jerk as she watched Tyler Pickens emerge from a small entryway at the front of the room. Except for replacing the cream-colored shirt with a pale blue one, he was wearing the same cowboy gear he’d worn this morning. And like it had this morning, the sight of him struck her hard.

He paused at the entryway long enough to allow his gaze to sweep the room. When it finally landed on her, he acknowledged the recognition by a faint incline of his head, then quickly made his way through the busy eating place until he reached the far back wall where she was sitting.

“Hello, Mr. Pickens,” she greeted him.

“What a surprise to find you here, Ms. Lightfoot.” The wry slant to his lips made the glint in his eye seem even more suggestive. “Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Because she didn’t know whether to groan or laugh, she ended up doing neither. And since she was off duty at the moment, it hardly seemed appropriate to remind him once again that she was Deputy Lightfoot to him, not a Miss or Ms.

She said, “Ridiculous is more like it.”

He took a seat on the opposite side of the table and eased off his gray hat. As he placed the headgear next to him on the bench seat, her gaze traveled over his black hair. It was thick with a slight wave bending the ends. Her mother would say the man needed a haircut. The wayward strands curving around his ears and onto the back of his neck gave him a reckless, bad-boy look. Add that to the day-old growth of beard shadowing his jaws and chin and the image was downright lethal, she decided.

He looked across the table at her. “Why? Because you told me where you’d be? Or because I’m here?”

“Both.”

“You’re out of uniform,” he stated the obvious as his gaze swept over her. “I got the impression you’d be stopping by here on your work break.”

“Since I worked through most of the night last night, another deputy offered to take over my shift. Once I leave here, I’m going to go home and crash.”

“Well, you look very pretty.”

From everything Undersheriff Donovan had told her about Tyler Pickens, she’d not expected him to be a flirt or anything close to it. Apparently, the man had a side to him that others hadn’t seen before. So why was he showing it to her?

Deciding she might not want to know the answer to that question, she picked up her coffee cup and gazed into the brown liquid. “Thanks.”

He was about to make some sort of reply when Loretta arrived. As the young woman took their orders, Rosalinda could see the waitress was bursting with curiosity, but thankfully she didn’t ask to be introduced.

Once she’d left, Tyler picked up the glass of ice water that Loretta had served him and took a hefty drink. Rosalinda was momentarily distracted by the long, brown fingers wrapped around the slender glass. This morning as he’d clasped her hands, she’d been struck by his calloused skin, the roughness that told her he used his hands for more productive things than signing paychecks.

“Do you live here in Ruidoso?” he asked.

“At Ruidoso Downs,” she answered. “I used to live down on the res, but that made the drive to Carrizozo even longer. In case you didn’t know, that’s where the sheriff’s department, courthouse and county jail are located.”

“I know where it is,” he told her. “But this is a huge county. If you arrest someone in the Ruidoso area do you have to drive them all the way to Carrizozo to lock them up?”

Shaking her head, she said, “No. We can use the local lockup here as a preliminary holding cell. Then later we transport the suspect to the county jail. And you’re right about this county being huge. The sheriff’s department has jurisdiction over 4,859 square miles. That’s why Sheriff Hamilton likes for his deputies to live all over the county. Makes it easier for us to keep up with what’s going on in our area and to better deal with local problems.”

“I see.”

He rested his shoulders against the back of the padded seat, and Rosalinda was drawn to their width and the slow, sensual movements of his body. The man was more than enough to take a woman’s breath away. So why wasn’t he married? Or at the very least, playing the field? She could only presume he wasn’t interested in having a relationship with a woman. And yet there were moments he looked at her with something like hunger in his eyes. Not necessarily for her, but for something that was missing in his life. The whole notion unsettled her.

“So you lived down on the reservation,” he remarked. “Are you Native American?”

“Half. My dad is from the Zuni tribe and my mom is white. They have a little farm south of Gallop—near the river.”

“Hmm. How did you end up all the way down here?”

“How did you?” she countered.

A clever smile lifted the corners of his lips, and Rosalinda was suddenly wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by this man. It had been so long since she’d had a man’s lips pressed to hers, she wasn’t sure how her body would react. Maybe her mind would freeze everything inside of her and she wouldn’t be able to feel a thing. Or maybe she’d want to run and never stop running.

Oh, God, why was she thinking these things now? Tyler Pickens wasn’t here as her date! He wasn’t here because he found her attractive, intriguing or anything else. He was simply showing his gratitude for not hauling his wrangler to jail.

“All right,” he conceded, “I ended up here because I didn’t like where I was.”

“Hmm. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that come out of a Texan’s mouth.”

His lips twitched with sour humor. “It was the circumstances, not the place, that pushed me to move here.”

“Ah, yes, circumstances,” she repeated softly. “We all have them, don’t we?”

“Some more than others,” he said.

Rosalinda felt something inside pushing and prodding her to confide in him, to relate exactly why she’d come to this southern part of the state. The realization startled her. No one, except for Sheriff Hamilton and Undersheriff Donovan, knew about her past and the traumatic experience she’d been through. She’d never really wanted anyone to know about the strange and dangerous situation she’d gotten herself swept up in. But the moment this man had set his cool green eyes on hers, she’d felt a connection. The guarded walls inside her had started trembling and cracking. It was the most reckless feeling she’d ever experienced in her life.

Clearing her throat, she sipped her coffee and told her heart there was no reason for it to bump along at such a high speed. Until last night, when Brady Donovan had briefed her, she’d not even known Tyler Pickens existed. She wasn’t going to confess her personal life to this man, she promised herself. She wasn’t going to do anything with him, except eat a meal.

“So how is Mr. Garza?” she asked. “Still angry with me?”

“Since this morning, I’ve not talked to him. I’ll give him a chance to lick his wounded ego before I light into him. As for being angry with you, Santo isn’t the sort to simmer and carry a grudge.” It was a trait that Tyler admired and wished he could apply to himself. But try as he might he’d never been able to forgive his family for hurting and ostracizing him. And why should that matter? he glumly asked himself. Neither his twin brother nor father needed or wanted his forgiveness.

Hell, it had been over nine years since he’d spoken directly to either of them. That’s how much they cared. As for his sister, Connie, she’d always avoided controversies in the family just so she wouldn’t have to face Warren Pickens’s wrath. And Edie, his mother, had tried to stand up for him, but her opinion had never held much weight for a man who didn’t respect women. Now his mother was the only one who still loved him enough stay in touch. Even though her calls and letters were few and far between.

“Well, I thank you for explaining about his wife. It makes me feel a bit better to know it wasn’t entirely me that made him fly off the handle.” Shaking her head with self-recrimination, she said, “I should have realized what he was doing. But to be honest, I’m still green at my job. Sheriff Hamilton says it takes years of experience and learning to catch all the nuances needed to make a great lawman. It’s clear that I have a ways to go.”

One of his brows arched upward. “Does he know what happened this morning with you and Santo?”

She tried to laugh, but the sound came out more like a strangled cough. “Of course he knows. Everyone in the department heard me call in the arrest. I’ll be the butt of their jokes for months.”

“I wouldn’t let that bother me. People have talked about me for years and it hasn’t killed me yet.”

His green eyes appeared to soften, and Rosalinda found herself drawn into their depths. Whenever he looked at her it was like he understood she’d been to hell and back, that she had her secrets just like he had his. Perhaps that was why she kept getting the urge to tell him private things about herself.

Glancing furtively at him, she asked, “You think people around here gossip about you?”

Before she could answer, Loretta arrived with their food. She placed a Reuben sandwich in front of Rosalinda and served Tyler a chicken-fried streak smothered in gravy. After the waitress had refilled their drinks and left the table, Tyler answered Rosalinda’s question.

“I know for a fact they gossip about me. Once my foreman was asked if I was an extremist and kept my house stockpiled with rifles and weapons.”

Frowning, Rosalinda picked up her sandwich. “Do you have a stockpile of weapons?”

His chuckle conveyed how ridiculous he considered the idea. “The only weapon I possess is a hunting rifle and I keep it locked away because I quit hunting years ago. I think—well, when people don’t know about something or someone, it sparks their imagination and they start making up things.” He sprinkled pepper over his food and reached for his fork. “And I suppose I make matters worse because I don’t mix and mingle with the folks around here.”

“Why don’t you mix and mingle?”

He shrugged. “I don’t dislike people, Ms. Lightfoot, but integrating into the community is for other folks. Not me. If someone wants to be my friend, that’s good. But I don’t go out searching for them.”

What about searching for women? she wanted to ask, but stopped the words before they could pop from her mouth. The last thing she wanted was to give Tyler Pickens the idea that she was interested in him in a personal way.

What kind of idea do you think you’re giving him by inviting him to meet you here tonight? You are interested in him, Rosa. You just don’t want to admit it.

Kicking back the incriminating voice in her head, she turned another question on him. “What about the folks back in Texas? Do you still keep in touch with them?”

His gaze quickly dropped to his food and several awkward moments passed before he eventually answered, “No. That part of my life is over.”

There was a tone of finality to his voice that spoke of loss and pain. The sound sent questions about him and his family spinning through her mind. “Oh. So you’ve lost your parents?”

Looking up, he cast her an empty smile. “No. They’re quite alive and well.”

That stunned her and she suddenly realized he was like a mystery box wrapped in layers and layers of richly textured paper. She wanted to peel them away, to peek inside at this rancher, who was unlike any man she’d ever met. But that wasn’t a part of her job. Not when her motives for the questions were completely personal.

After forcing down several bites of sandwich, she said, “There are times I really miss my family. I have three brothers and one sister, but I don’t see them or my parents very often. I rarely get enough free time to make the trip up to Gallop.”

“Then why don’t you live up there? Near them?”

Because the pleasure of being in her old hometown had been ruined by a man and the obsessed woman who’d refused to relinquish her hold on him.

“I like it better down here,” she told him flatly. “My job—the people—it’s all home to me now.”

His eyes narrowed as his gaze swept a perceptive path over her face, and Rosalinda felt her cheeks warming, her breaths coming just a bit faster. Could he actually see the haunting memories on her face? Even more, could he see exactly how much he was affecting her?

“When you say home, I take it you don’t share it with anyone. A husband or boyfriend?”

His question filled her with a sense of fear. Which was ridiculous. Since her ordeal with Dale, she’d not written men totally out of her life. She wanted to be normal. She wanted to be loved. And yet the idea of being intimate with a man again was like venturing a walk through a bear-infested forest. Even though Dale had been a gentle, loving man, he’d been carrying problems that she’d not known about. Problems that had eventually exploded onto her. And the more she’d tried to stand by her man, the more dangerous everything had gotten.

“I’m single and unattached,” she finally answered. “But I’m only twenty-six. I’ll have plenty of time later on to think about marriage.”

Across the booth from her, Tyler tried to focus on his food, but it was hard to do when the pull of the sexy deputy kept urging his gaze back to her side of the table. She wasn’t married or living with a boyfriend. The fact had him smiling inside.

Damn it! He must have breathed in too much smoke last night. Something had clearly messed up his thinking. Otherwise, he would have never suggested meeting this woman for dinner. True, he was grateful that she’d not caused real trouble for Santo, but he could’ve shown his appreciation in some other way. Like a simple thank you.

But she’d sparked something in him that had shaken him out of a long, cold sleep. He’d not been able to resist the urge to spend more time with her and let her warmness thaw him back to life.

“You’re very young,” he commented. “How long have you worked in law enforcement?”

“I worked for the Ruidoso Police Department for a year and a half before I applied for the job of county deputy. I’ve worked for Sheriff Hamilton for about seven or eight months now.”

“Hmm. How did you decide you wanted to be a law officer? Was that something you’d always planned to be?”

“No. When I first got out of high school I always had intentions of becoming a schoolteacher. I love children and Mom always said I had a way with my younger brothers.” She placed what was left of her sandwich back onto her plate and toyed with the pile of potato chips lying next to it. “But all of those plans got forgotten for a while. And then I became friends with Johnny Chino. Do you know him?”

Tyler rolled the name through his memory bank. “Not personally. I’ve heard the name. He’s some sort of famous tracker, isn’t he?”

“Used to be. He’s a deputy now. Anyway, he and his wife—she’s a medical doctor here in Ruidoso—both urged me to go to police academy. They thought I’d be good at it. And once I started considering their idea, it began to appeal to me. Now I like to think that I’m helping people be safe.”

She smiled at him and Tyler felt something inside him go soft and helpless. Her white teeth against her creamy tan skin, the impish curl at the corners of her plush lips was an intoxicating sight. Especially since he rarely received a genuine smile from anyone.

“What’s been the most rewarding thing about your job so far?”

“Finding a lost little boy. The mother feared he’d been kidnapped from their front yard. But I have brothers so I understand how adventurous boys can be. So I followed my hunch and found him at the nearest baseball park. He’d climbed down in the dugout and fallen asleep.”

“Wow. That must have made you feel like a true heroine,” he said.

Her smile turned modest. “I don’t know about that. But the look on the mother’s face when I handed her son back to her is something I’ll never forget. And since then I’ve had a few more proud moments. Especially when Sheriff Hamilton praised me for busting a local theft ring. But that’s enough about me. What about you? What made you decide to be a rancher?” she asked.

“I grew up with horses and cattle.”

The smile lingered on her lips. “Well, no one in my family ever worked in law enforcement. But I didn’t let that stop me. My family and friends say I’m stubborn, but I like to think of myself as determined.”

Since he’d only just met her, he didn’t know those things about her. But he did know she was very beautiful. After his divorce, he’d never imagined himself looking at another woman and feeling a strong desire. For the past ten years he’d never been tempted to spend more than five minutes with one. But here he was doing just that.

“I’m sure you’re a very good deputy. Sheriff Hamilton wouldn’t have any other kind. But don’t you ever worry that you might find yourself in a dangerous situation?” he asked.

Something flickered in her eyes just before they dropped to her plate, but the glimpse was too quick to determine what she was thinking or feeling.

“I’ve been in dangerous situations before and I’ve learned how to handle them. As a matter of fact, I teach a self-defense course to women one night a week at the community center. The way I see it, the stronger a woman is both mentally and physically, the safer she’ll be.”

She was not a petite woman. Her height was probably taller than average and there was nothing fragile about her generous curves. No doubt she would be physically strong. But were her defensive skills enough to wield off a gun or a knife? It was an image he didn’t like to contemplate.

DeeDee hadn’t been physically strong. She’d been a tiny little thing that thought lifting a hair brush was enough of a morning workout. But mentally, she’d been as wily as a cat. She’d known exactly what buttons to push and what cards to play to get what she wanted. In the beginning her wants had been Tyler. But that had quickly changed once Trent stepped in and began working his charm on her.

“Your family doesn’t worry about you having a dangerous job?” he asked.

“My family understands that I don’t have to be a deputy to be threatened.”

He was trying to figure out that odd statement when a shadow loomed up beside their table and he looked up to see a stocky, auburn-haired man dressed in a deputy’s shirt and jeans. He was squinting at the two of them as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. For some reason, the idea irked Tyler.

“Rosa, is that you in a dress?” he asked incredulously.

The moment she glanced away from Tyler and up to the other man, instant recognition hit her face and she smiled as though she was seeing an old friend.

“Hank! I thought you were off duty tonight, too!”

He shook his head. “I had to go back out to the Chaparral.”

She scowled faintly. “Why didn’t you let me know? I could have joined you.”

The deputy, who appeared to be in his early thirties, shrugged one shoulder. “You needed the rest. And it was a matter I could deal with myself.”

She let out a long breath as her eyes darted awkwardly from Hank to Tyler, then back to Hank. “Well, thanks. Mr. Pickens and I just happened to be having supper at the same time tonight and decided to have our meal together,” she explained. “Have you two met before?”

“I don’t believe so,” Tyler said as he glanced to the other man.

“Hank and I usually work as partners,” she told him.

Tyler extended his hand to the lawman. “I’m Tyler Pickens. Nice to meet you.”

Hank shook his hand. “Deputy Hank Harrigan. Same here,” he said. “I think I remember seeing you at the Chaparral several years ago. When the rustling ring was busted.”

“You probably did,” Tyler replied. “I was there to help hunt for Alexa. Thankfully, Jonas found her before anything terrible happened.”

Hank nodded. “Yeah. A real Texas Ranger to the rescue. All of us around here were impressed by him.” He glanced over his shoulder to a table across the room, then back to Rosalinda. “Well, I’d better get over to my table. My buddies are waiting. See you in the morning, Rosa. And you take care, Mr. Pickens.”

Tyler nodded at Hank’s parting words before he turned his attention to Rosalinda. Now that her coworker had left, her expression had become strained.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her. “Are you worried about him seeing you having dinner with a suspect?”

“You’re not a suspect. Not exactly,” she corrected, with a grimace. “I just wish—well, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, one way or the other, he would’ve probably heard about you and me having dinner together.”

Tyler put down his fork. “Are you interested in him? I mean romantically?”

She grimaced. “No. But he’s sort of interested in me. And I’ve always put him off by telling him I’m not interested in dating. Now he’s going to think I was lying to him.”

Tyler glanced across the room to where the deputy had taken a seat at a table with two more law officers. From the corner of his eye, he noticed all three men were glancing surreptitiously in their direction. He didn’t know whether to be amused or irritated by the attention.

“Your partner is going to believe we’re dating just because we’re having a meal together? That’s being pretty presumptuous, isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer immediately and he glanced across the table to see a faint blush had painted her cheeks a soft pink. The color made her features even lovelier.

“I’m sorry. That was silly of me to say. It’s just that … well, I don’t do this sort of thing for any reason. And Hank knows that.” She quickly dabbed her lips with a napkin, then changed the subject completely. “If you’re finished, I’d like to leave now.”

Clearly, she was flustered. But whether he was the reason for this change in her, or if it was the sudden appearance of Deputy Harrigan, he had no way of knowing. Something Tyler was certain of, though, was that he was far from ready for his time with this woman to end.

“Sure. I’ll signal the waitress and we’ll get out of here.”

Five minutes later, Tyler had settled the bill and the two of them left the restaurant by way of a side door. The exit led onto a large deck where patrons could take their meals outdoors. Since it was dark, only a handful of people were sitting around the wooden tables partaking of drinks.

Beside him, Rosalinda lifted her face skyward and let out a long sigh. “It’s good to be away from prying eyes. Besides, the night is beautiful. It’s much nicer out here, anyway.”

Not wanting her to make a quick dash to her vehicle, he curled a hand around her elbow. “Let’s walk over to the back of the deck and look at the creek,” he suggested.

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “All right.”

Since the restaurant and adjoining deck were built at the base of a mountain, the property behind it consisted of thick forest. Directly beneath the back side of the deck, a small creek tumbled its way down the hillside toward a larger branch of water. In the light of day, trout could be spotted swimming in the crystal clear stream. Tonight, the only things visible were shiny dapples created by moonbeams slanting through the pine boughs.

As they stood side by side, staring down at the moving water, Tyler told himself he should drop his hold on her arm, yet he couldn’t bring himself to lose the contact. Her skin was warm and soft and her nearness made him feel like a man again. A man strong enough to love and protect a woman. It was a sensation he’d believed he would never experience again and it filled him with immense pleasure.

He said, “I’m sorry if my being here tonight will cause you trouble at work.”

“It won’t. I’ll simply explain to Hank that you and I had a few more things we wanted to discuss.”

“You mean about the arson? Or each other?”

Her attention on the creek, she let out another long breath. “We’re not supposed to be discussing each other.”

Releasing his hold on her arm, he eased his hand onto her shoulder. The moment his fingers pressed into her bare skin, her face twisted around to his, her lips parted and Tyler’s heartbeat quickened.

“There are other ways for a man and woman to learn about each other besides talking,” he murmured.

“Mr. Pickens, I—”

“It’s Tyler to you.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Ty, if you’d like.”

Her dark eyes widened just a fraction as they settled on his mouth. “Ty.”

The whisper of his name was all that passed her lips before he decided to cover them with a kiss.

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