2000 Kisses (10 page)

“Not much.” Tess tried to sit up, but he held her still.

“Don't try to move. You're in no shape for it.”

“I'm fine.” She moved restlessly beneath his hand.

“Don't you
ever
relax, woman?”

“Not when I'm talking to a strange man who's had his hand under my skirt.”

His lips twitched. “Point taken.”

Tess gnawed at her sunburned lip. “Has Andrew phoned you today? My cell phone doesn't work, and I haven't spoken to him since last night.”

“We talked about an hour ago. He said he was working on two leads.”

So much for her hope that the problem would be solved by now. She started to rise, only to feel die room spin.

T. J. pushed her back onto the cot. “Tell me what you need, and I'll get it.”

“What I need are some answers.” Tess stared down at her waist, stirred by a sudden memory. “Did you take off my belt?”

“I surely did.”

“And you unbuttoned my shirt?” she asked stiffly.

“It's a tough job, but a cowboy never sidesteps his duty.”

“Very funny.” She pushed away the cloth at her neck. “I want to phone my brother.”

T.J. cupped her wrist, checking her pulse. “First you'd better drink some more water.”

Tess took a sip from the glass he held to her mouth and then sat up slowly. “Andrew will probably be worrying. For some reason this whole business has him spooked.”

“If he's spooked, there's a good reason.” He handed her the phone, then turned away and started going through a pile of paperwork.

Tess still felt shaky, but she was getting more clearheaded by the minute and she was certain the arrangement wasn't going to work. Andrew would have to come up with something else.

She reached Andrew's crusty secretary, gave her name, then waited interminably to be put through.

The line clicked. “Thank heavens you called. I was about to send out my own search party.”

“I can't imagine why. You had every state trooper between Massachusetts and Arizona watching out for me.”

“Just keeping an eye on my baby sister. Since I couldn't go with you myself, my network of spies was the next best thing. I hear you did something to your hair.”

“Just a few subtle highlights.”

“Not exactly subtle, I'm told. Are you in Almost?”

Tess sighed. “I'm afraid so.” Tess frowned at the mountains shimmering in the distance.

“So what do you think of Sheriff McCall?”

She was certain that the man in question was listening to every word she said. “Nice enough, I suppose—if you like that type.”

“What type?”

“Oh, you know. Big.” Slow. Arrogant. Irritating.

“Don't be fooled by that slow-as-molasses drawl. McCall is a good man, Tess. Otherwise, I wouldn't have sent you there.”

Tess didn't want to discuss the sheriff. “What about your investigation? It's been four days now, Andrew. Someone should have reported that money missing.”

“I'm working on it, Tess. We need more time.”

“How much more time?” She hunched closer to the receiver. “How long am I going to be stuck here?”

“I can't say yet. So far there's nothing concrete.”

“Of course there's not. You're letting this get all out of proportion.”

“Until I verify the source of that million dollars, you aren't going anywhere. It's simply not safe.”

“The deposit's probably from Richard's account. He can afford to give me that kind of bonus—or maybe he made a simple accounting error,” she finished weakly with the feeling that she was grasping at straws.

“I need to be sure. So far I haven't been able to reach him, and his accountants won't release any financial information without his approval.”

“You can forget about that. He just bought an island in French Polynesia and he'll be out of reach there for at least two weeks.” Her voice fell. “Look, I can't stay here, Andrew. I haven't seen a single
Wall Street Journal
since I left St. Louis and I'm having serious news withdrawal. The last thing I want to do is stay boxed up in some dusty little town at the back of beyond.”

“It's for your own good, Tess. When that money is traced and the coast is clear, you'll be the first to know. Until then, the subject is closed.”

“No, I'm leaving tomorrow. Once I get to L.A. you can—”

Without warning the phone was tugged from her fingers.

“This is McCall. No, she's not going anywhere. Don't wony, I'll keep an eye on her. Yeah, I'll stay in touch.” The sheriff put down the phone, his eyes glinting.

Tess scowled at him. “I wasn't finished talking to my brother.”

“Too bad,” he drawled. “The county budget is already stretched to a thread. We can't afford to pick up the tab for long-distance chatter.”

“Chatter?” she snapped. “This is my
life
we're talking about.”

“All the more reason to listen to your brother. Now, stop fuming and drink some more water. You're getting pale again.”

Tess did neither. She stared out the window, where mountains rose like smoke against the green horizon. Maybe the landscape did have its own rugged beauty and maybe the light did fascinate her as it shimmered over the stark mountains. But Almost was still the back of beyond, and if she didn't find a real newspaper soon, she was going to lose her mind. After all, she had her career to consider. She had products to promote and a preliminary retail plan for the chocolate account to finish. How would she find market information in this isolated spot?

Absorbed in her problem, Tess pushed to her feet Instantly, the floor seemed to pitch. She took a sharp breath and clutched at the wall, dimly aware of TJ.'s hands at her shoulders.

“I told you to sit down and rest.”

“I don't want to sit down, and I'm not going to rest.”

“I'll give you until the count of three.” His voice was as dry as the wind hissing down off the mountains. “After that, I'm going to pick you up and toss you down onto that cot, whether you like it or not.”

For one blazing moment, Tess resolved to face him down. She didn't have to take orders from a dusty, drawling stranger. “Forget it, Sheriff.”

“Fine.” McCall strode to the door and grabbed his hat from its peg. “Go on and work yourself into another stint of unconsciousness. You might have noticed that this is a small town with only one doctor, who is already doing the work of four men. Bringing him here will mean he can't see someone who's
really
sick, like young Jeremy up at the Bar D, who's recovering from pneumonia. Or the Winkler boy, who just had a bone marrow transplant and needs to be visited three times a week. But don't let any of that bother you, Ma'am. It's not your problem, after all.”

Tess stood frozen. Heat filled her cheeks as she was struck by a wave of self-recrimination. “That was low,” she spat out. “That was a truly low and unworthy thing to say.”

T.J. shoved his hat down on his head. “The world is a low and unworthy place, I guess.”

“I've been wondering exactly why I dislike you, Mr. McCall. It could be because you think you know what's best for everyone.” Tess's chin jutted out. “Or maybe because you like snapping out orders to anyone close enough to listen.”

T. J. glared at her, trying to keep control of his shredding temper.

The woman had the temperament of a Gila monster.
Once she got her teeth into a subject, you couldn't pry her free with a stick. “Let's get one tiling straight here.” He tilted back his head. “As a favor to your brother, I've agreed to keep an eye on you. The fact is, there are a few hundred things I'd rather do—like pull a hungry rattler out of its hole bare-handed.”

“What a charming thought,” Tess said icily. “Don't let me keep you.”

“I'm not done yet. The people of Almost have their problems, but you're here as my guest. That means they'll take care of you and stand by you, but they don't need your whining or complaining when they've got problems enough of their own.”

Tess's eyes flashed. “I never asked for—”

“And another thing: while you're here, you'll do what I say—not because you like it or because I enjoy giving orders, but because it's the ngAf thing to do.” He straightened his shoulders, “If you've got a problem with that, you'd better get your brother on the phone and tell him to send someone to chaperone you back to Boston because I haven't got time for bad-tempered heifers with more bellow than sense. Is that clear enough, Ma'am?”

If fury could have knocked a man down, he would have been prostrate. Tess stood rooted to the spot, frozen in anger. She opened her mouth, intent on telling him exactly what she thought of his loutish behavior, his arrogance, and his lamentable little town.

Then Tess looked outside and noticed a white-haired man crossing the street. He moved slowly in the shimmering afternoon heat, looking tired and favoring his left leg. He stopped twice to speak to women with children, then stood for a moment in the shade of the General Mercantile, rubbing his neck, black bag in hand.

The doctor, Tess realized.

And he looked every bit as tired as T.J. had described.

“Look, I'm sorry your town is small and I'm sorry about the doctor being overworked, but I can't stay here.”

T.J. crossed his arms, staring at her. “Your brother thinks differently.”

“He's being paranoid about this.”

“Funny, he seemed perfectly sane when I knew him.”

“This is different. I'm his little sister, and he's letting his imagination work overtime. This Y2K business has him all stirred up. Now he's seeing bogeymen behind every ATM machine.”

“If he's worried, maybe you should be, too,” T.J. said gravely. He slid on a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

“I'm still alive. Nothing bad has happened to me.” She gave a sigh and eased a shoulder against the wall for support. “The worst thing facing me now is mental collapse from information withdrawal.”

T.J. didn't move. “Information can be misleading.”

“You have something against newspapers, Sheriff?”

“On occasion, yes.”

Tess wished she could have read his eyes behind his mirrored glasses, but there was no sign of emotion in that tanned face.

She felt a burst of irritation. Maybe he had to stay in this forsaken outpost, but
she
certainly didn't. “Where I come from, newspapers spell civilization. That means a city, a place with more than three stores and four streets. I like civilization. I can get coffee whenever I want it and newspapers that run to more than four pages. I also like to be able to change channels on the radio and hear songs
that don't have 'cheatin' or 'aehy-hreaky' in the first verse. Is diat clear enough?” she said acidly.

“Crystal clear.” TJ. rocked back on his heels, his jaw hard. “You're a spoiled, pampered snob.”

“That does it.” She turned toward the door, only to feel his hand close around her arm.

“You're going to stay put until your brother says the heat is off. Is
that
clear enough, City CrM?”

Tess wanted to scream. But first she wanted to plant a fist right in the middle of his face. “You insufferable, arrogant—
cowboy.
“

“That word's fine with me. I come from a long line of cowboys and down here it's a term of real respect.” He tilted his hat slightly. “Now, as a cowboy
ami
a sheriff, I'm giving you some orders. First, you'll stop fuming and rest. You'll also drink two more glasses of water. When I get back, I'll have made arrangements for where you'll stay.”

“I can hardly wait,” Tess muttered.

“I've got work to do. Anything you need while I'm out?” he asked dryly.

Had the man heard nothing she'd said? “Several back issues of the
Wall Street Journal
would be nice. Maybe a mochaccino latte with a double shot of espresso and some walnut biscotti,”

“The cafe's fresh out of biscotti/V He drawled the last word out into three syllables, sparking her anger all over again. “How about homemade peanut butter bars with milk?”

Tess felt tears pressing behind her eyes, fueled by the headache that was driving nails into her forehead. She didn't like snapping at him but she couldn't seem to help it. “I believe I'll pass on the delicacies, thank you.”

“Your choice.” His boots scuffed over the floor.

Tess ignored a wave of pain as she stalked to the cot. “Where is my handbag?”

“Out in the car, where you left it”

“You didn't bring it inside?”

“It will be fine,” he said calmly.

“How do you know that? All my identification and credit cards are inside.” Tess tried to control her panic. “Of course by now my wallet's probably been picked clean. Was die car locked?”

T.J. shrugged. “Didn't check.”

“You didn't
checkl
Oh, that's just perfect. Everything will be gone—my purse, my books, my clothes.” She rubbed a knot at her neck. “My new coffeemaker,” she whispered.

“Everything's there. Your tires needed filling, so someone took care of that for you.”

“What?”

“The car was dirty, too, so someone washed it After that a mechanic was going to go over your engine.”

Tess went very still. “I don't believe it. Why would they do all that?”

“Because people take care of people here.”

“Not me,” Tess said stiffly. “I'm a stranger.”

“Makes no difference.”

“But I didn't ask them to—”

“Makes no difference,” McCall repeated. “If a thing needs to be done, someone will do it That's the way it is here.” The phone rang. As he listened, McCall's face tightened with strain. He hung up, then went to a metal locker and drew out a long canvas duffel bag.

“Was that Andrew?”

“No,” he said tightly. “It was for me.” He slung the heavy bag over his shoulder.

Tess felt an odd pressure at her chest. “I thought you said the world was a low and unworthy place, Sheriff.”

“Some parts of it are. Almost isn't one.”

Then he quietly closed the door behind him.