Caught by Surprise (3 page)

“It was over a woman,” he said in a wicked tone. “Everybody knows that. You’re just too polite to poke me for information yet.”

“I don’t care about your love life.” It was a lie, but she would never admit
that
to him.

“She was worth fightin’ for. Otherwise I wouldn’t have walloped that fellow in the Tennessee state senate. Punched him right in the rotunda.”

Millie could picture the kind of woman who’d inspire such violence. She’d be tall, tall and delicate. Men didn’t beat each other up over short deputy sheriffs. She shook her head to clear away thoughts that were distinctly envious.

“Let’s change the subject. The word you said when I, er, rammed you in the stomach—
strewth
—what’s that mean?”

“Just a little oath.
God’s truth
, shortened. Aussies like to cut sentences down. Saves energy talkin’.”

“Why’d you call me Sheila?”

“It’s an Aussie word for a prime girl.”

“Oh.” She frowned at him. “Blarney.”

“Blamey?” he echoed.

“Irish word. Means bullfeathers.”

“Hmmm.” He let the insult pass without comment. “You Irish?”

“Nope.”

“I’m part Scotch, meself. Great-great-great-granddaddy was a pure Scotsman.”

“How’d he end up in Australia?”

Brig grinned. “Came over on a convict ship.”

“How appropriate.”

“He was only fourteen. Stole a ham from a fat Englishman, and the English courts sailed him off to the penal colony.”

“Hmmm. My great-great-great-grandfather was a pirate. French. He used to attack Spanish ships, and he retired to Paradise Springs after the Spanish ceded Florida to the United States. He was safe here.”

“Hurray!” Brig stood up and applauded. “Pirates and convicts! We’re a bonzer pair then, love!”

She rubbed her temples wearily.
Bonzer
. She didn’t intend to learn a new language from an Australian country-western singer, no matter how virile and intriguing
and … lord, how her mind wandered when she was around Brig McKay—and he’d only been in Paradise Springs for two hours.

“Bonzer?” she asked.

“It means ‘good’. We’re a good pair.”

She subdued the tingling sensation that remark created. “How do you survive in Nashville with a vocabulary that nobody can understand?”

“They make fun of me, and I make fun of them. It’s good sport. And you Yanks love Aussie accents. It’s a plus.”

“McKay, I’m a sixth-generation Florida native, and most of my relatives fought on the Confederate side of the Civil War. ’Round these parts, you better be careful who you call ‘Yank’.”

“Oh. Gotcha. I love your accent, Scarlett.”

“I love yours—” She stopped as a warning bell went off in her mind. She hadn’t intended to get friendly with him, but his eyes stayed on her in a disarming fashion and made her forget her purposes. Millie pointed toward the cell door. “Snap to, McKay.”

He ambled toward her, hands on hips, and halted inches from her flushed, stern face. “Where’d you learn to boss people?” he inquired much too politely.

“The navy,” she retorted.

Brig gave her a stunned look. “Nah,” he said finally. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

“No, McKay, I was in the navy for several years. Navy police. I’ve been around. I’m older than I look—I’m twenty-nine.”

He was now irrevocably enthralled with Deputy Surprise. She was a buttercup with steel in her blossoms.

Millie gazed up at him grimly. His eyes gleamed with an emotion she couldn’t quite analyze, and it made her heart race. She knew that she didn’t present the most traditional female image in the world, and some men were put off by it.

Ordinarily she didn’t give two hoots what anyone thought of her, but right now she was growing desperately angry because she just
knew
that Brig McKay,
Mr. Aussie Macho, didn’t find her background appealing. Her reaction didn’t make a damned bit of sense.

“You know, Deputy, I never kissed a navy veteran before,” he murmured.

“You never
what—
” she began, just as he bent down and gave her a firm, fast, incredibly skillful kiss on the mouth. He kissed her just long enough to imprint her senses with his taste and scent, drawing her lower lip between his teeth for a nibble. She felt branded.

Millie took a weak step back, gasping for breath and words. By the time she found both necessities, he was already out the cell door, chuckling, his hands in his trouser pockets.

It was going to be an interesting two months.

Millie walked him to the recreation room without another word. She was still stunned.

“A real country club place, this is,” he announced with great innocence as he surveyed the big, pleasantly lit room. It was best to act as if nothing had happened, he decided.

“But it’s still a jail, Mr. McKay, and there are rules you better follow or you’ll be here a lot longer than two months.”

He turned to gaze down at her with a contrite expression. His wavy golden brown hair was a little disheveled, and Millie noted that he looked even sexier when he was rumpled.

“I shouldn’t have done it, eh?” he admitted. “I know, I shouldn’t have kissed you. Now you’ve got to report me. The sheriff’ll probably make me wear a ball and chain around my ankle from now on.” His voice rose melodramatically. “It’s a price worth payin’. And at least …” He sighed grandly. “My lips’ll still be free.”

“I’m not going to report it,” she answered in a cold tone. “I don’t want to be laughed at behind my back—and that’s exactly what would happen. But if you try it again, I’ll defend myself.”

“Which means?” he asked.

“Which means, pal, that I’d be perfectly justified to use physical force on a prisoner who threatens me. By the way, I’ve got a black belt in karate.”

His mouth crooked up in a smile. “I wasn’t threatenin’ you, love, I was testin’ your resistance.” He shook a finger at her. “I dated a lady wrestler once. I like violent women.” He walked to a pool table in the middle of the room. “Want to play?” He cut his eyes at her rakishly.

“I’d beat you, and that would hurt your pride.”

He made a clucking noise. “Chicken.”

“You may think I’m a joke,” she told him coldly, “but I’ve been a deputy sheriff for almost two years, and I’ve done a damned fine job of it. I take my work seriously, and you won’t get any favors out of me by flirting.”

“You know, you’d make a good bodyguard. When I get my walking papers from the slammer, why don’t you come to work for me?”

She eyed him speechlessly for a moment, and then she groaned in disgust. “You don’t need a bodyguard, you need a keeper.”

“Ow.” He clutched his chest and looked wounded. “You’re the meanest woman I’ve ever met.” And the most irresistible, he added silently. It was crazy, but he was beginning to look forward to the next two months, because he’d be in daily contact with a little Amazon who threatened to beat him up if he kissed her again. Her mouth had been fantastic and more willing than she’d probably care to admit. He planned to kiss her again, and soon.

“I bet you could be a good wrestler,” he continued jovially. “I’ll put up the money to sponsor you. I’ll call you Deputy Death. Or how about the Blond Bruiser?”

“Let’s get something straight,” she said gruffly.

He watched her intently as she paused. Her eyes were icy but there was something wistful looking about her expression, as if he’d hurt her feelings.

“I’m not delicate and I’m not traditional, but you don’t have to treat me like a freak.”

He almost winced. How could she so misinterpret his interest? Brig spoke gently. “Love, that’s not what I meant.”

“Save the sweet talk for your songs, McKay,” she answered bluntly. Turning on her heel, she marched toward the door to the cell block.

“Are you leavin’ me to rec-reate alone?”

“Get used to it.”

After she left the room he leaned against the pool table and stared at the ceiling, pondering ways to learn more about Deputy Surprise.

Millie had the next two days off, so Brig was forced to cultivate sources for information about her. Suds LaFont, her fellow deputy, seemed like the perfect place to start. Suds was an affable young black man who wore wire-rimmed glasses and an air of studious amusement. Suds lived up to his name by providing beer with Brig’s dinners, then sat with him in the recreation room while he ate.

“Millie’s from a navy family,” he told Brig. “No sisters, two brothers, mom died when they were little, father had to haul the kids all over the world to keep the family together. The navy was all she knew. Her brothers enlisted straight out of high school, and so did she. Problem was, the navy’s not very good to women. She doesn’t talk about it much, but I think she had to put up with a lot of sexual harassment. She got out after a few years.”

“What’d she do after that?”

“Went to college at night, worked as a secretary during the day. You’ve heard of Rucker McClure, the guy who writes that syndicated newspaper column about southern life?”

“Sure,” Brig said. “He wrote a nice piece about one of my albums, and I sent him a case of beer.”

“Millie worked for him over in Alabama.”

“How’d she end up in Paradise Springs?”

“Her father was born and raised here. When he retired, he came back. He died two years ago, and she came down to settle the estate. Decided to stay on. Raybo had an opening for a deputy.”

“She ever been married?”

“No. But there was some guy in Alabama. I think he was one of the reasons she didn’t go back. You want to know why Raybo hired her? He was really uncertain about hiring a woman, especially such a little one.”

“Yes. Why’d Raybo do it?”

“Right after she put in her application, somebody tried to rob her house. She caught the guy and knocked out one of his teeth. Then she tied him up with a garden hose. The guy was an ex-marine. Raybo hired her the next day.”

Brig whistled under his breath. What a woman! “She’s a regular little Tasmanian devil.”

Suds propped his chin on his hands and looked over the rims of his glasses. “May I ask you a nosy question?”

“Sure, mate.”

“You’re in your mid-thirties, aren’t you?”

“Somewhere thereabouts. Mother dropped me off with a tribe of Abos when I was a few days old, and they didn’t keep track of dates.”

“Abos?” Suds inquired blankly.

“Aborigines. I stayed with ’em about five years, ’till somebody from a sheep station came along and noticed me. Great way to grow up, that.”

“What about your father?”

“He went walkabout before I was born. He showed up again when I was ten or so. Grand guy. A little irresponsible, though.”

“Good lord,” Suds said softly.

“Yeah. Been good to me. Anyhow, what’s your nosy question?”

“How come you’ve never been married?”

“I’m a Tasmanian devil myself, mate.”

Suds eyed him with amusement. “Should I warn Millie?”

Brig smiled. “Nah. I think she’s already figured it out.”

During her two days off, Millie had done little more
than think about Brig McKay. She’d borrowed his albums from Charlie McGown and listened to them all several times. There was nothing delicate about the man and nothing delicate about his music, and both were incredibly sexy.

She’d also gone to the library and looked up old magazine articles on him. And slowly, reluctantly, she realized that she’d misjudged Brig McKay. He wasn’t just a troublemaker.

He was a master troublemaker.

In the first year of his career in the States, he and his six-man band played most of the roughest two-bit bars around the country. They got into fights about as often as they made music, but the crowds loved them so much that they invited them back anyway.

His house in the swank, Belle Meade section of Nashville became so notorious for loud parties that the police gave him an award when he moved to a place outside the city. Brig was so pleased by the honor that he donated a huge chunk of money to their union.

Pondering those and other stories about him, Millie waited until he was in the middle of breakfast before she ventured into the recreation room with her cup of coffee. He looked up from a long table in one comer, squinted at her sleepily, then clasped a hand to his heart and stood up.

“Morning, Deputy. I’ve missed you. My achin’ stomach muscles kept remindin’ me of our first meetin’.”

“I didn’t hit you
that
hard.”

She sat down across the table from him and watched as he lowered his incredibly well-packed body back into a chair. Even the nondescript inmate’s outfit couldn’t dim his effect. He picked up a fork and held it poised over a plate of fried eggs and grits. His hands were broad and big-knuckled; it was odd, she thought, that such hands could play a guitar so beautifully. She liked the strength and size of them.

“Did I forget to trim my nails or somethin’?” he asked abruptly.

Millie jerked her gaze up and realized that she’d been staring. “No.”

He watched in amusement as the color rose in her cheeks. She pushed her short, loosely curled blond hair back from her face and fanned herself a little.

“It’s hot in here,” she muttered.

He seared her with a devilish look. “Feels pretty warm to me, too, love.”

“Don’t call me
love
. It’s as bad as
baby
or
honey.
”

“You can call
me
love, and I won’t mind. Then we’ll be even. Or call me by my first name. Everyone else here does.”

“I’ll call you McKay.”

“I’ll call you Melisande.”

Her lips parted in shock. “Where’d you learn about
that
?”

“Raybo told me.”

She took a deep swig of her coffee and arched one brow at him. “I was named after my great-great-great-grandmother. She was married to the pirate. In fact, she was a pirate, too.”

“Whew. What a granny. And you take after her, I can tell.”

“Hardly. She was very genteel, despite being a pirate. In fact, she wasn’t
truly
a pirate—for example, she never killed anyone. But she did sail the seas with great-great-great-grandfather for a couple of years. You see, he helped her escape from Europe when her family was going to make her marry a man she didn’t love. Well actually, great-great-great-grandfather
kidnapped
her, because he loved—”