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His cousin’s grin was wicked and all too knowing. “You know, you can be every bit as much of a pain as you were when you were a snot-nosed kid,” Jack muttered.

“And you’re as much of a control freak as ever. When are you going to get it through that thick Irish head that even you can’t control everything and everyone around you?”

“Believe me, I’ve already learned that. The hard way.”

“Shit.” Dan scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, Jack. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. For the record, you’re probably right.” He glanced up at the grandfather clock again. The pendulum was still swinging, its slow back-and-forth arc revealing that it hadn’t really stopped. “Although controlling Raine Cantrell would undoubtedly be like trying to capture mercury. Frustrating and ultimately impossible.”

“So, the chips are still there?”

“Only about the size of Mount Olympus. But then again, every once in a while there are flashes of…”

His voice drifted off as he saw the headlights coming up the long driveway. If he’d been annoyed with himself earlier, he was downright disgusted at the sharp rise of anticipation he felt.

“Of what?”

“Huh?” As he watched her climb out of the driver’s seat, Jack wondered why he hadn’t noticed how long her legs were. An image wavered tantalizingly into his mind—a provocative picture of those long slender legs wrapped around his hips.

“You were mentioning flashes?”

He shook off the jolt of pure lust and reminded himself that he’d given up tumbling into the sack with every female who caused a spike in his hormones a very long time ago.

“I just get the impression that she’s not as tough as she tries to come off.”

She was wearing the same slacks and sweater she’d had on earlier when he’d taken Gwen to the house and as he watched her approach the house with a smooth, feminine sway of hips, Jack considered, once again, that Raine Cantrell was a lot softer than the tough big-city lawyer image she’d put on.

When he imagined burying himself in that soft female warmth, he decided he’d definitely been too long without a woman. Perhaps he ought to pay a visit to Jenny Winger. He and the former Miss Teen Olympic County had shared some good times back in high school. Now that Jenny had recently shed her second husband, she’d gone out of her way to make it clear that she wouldn’t mind picking up where they’d left off so many years ago.

Reminding himself yet again that playing with fire only resulted in burned fingers, Jack assured himself that the only reason he was hurrying to the door was to keep her from ringing the bell and waking up Amy, who’d finally, after three readings of
Where the Wild Things Are
, fallen asleep.

“I see you found the house okay,” he said as he opened the huge hand-carved oak door. He nearly groaned out loud at the pitiful opening line.

“Your instructions were very clear.” It had begun to rain again, just a soft mist that sparkled in her hair like scattered diamonds. The spreading yellow glow of the porch light brought out red glints in that sparkling hair Jack hadn’t noticed before. She was wearing those black-framed glasses again. Jack was surprised to discover that he was a sucker for a female in glasses.

“I’m glad.” He was grinning down at her like some besotted kid. It was definitely past time he got laid. Jack made a mental note to give the newly footloose and still-sexy Jenny a call.

She glanced past him. “Are you going to let me see the inside?”

Shit
. “Sorry.” Damning the heat he felt rising from his collar, he stepped aside, letting her into the house.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” she breathed with what he took for honest appreciation. She glanced around at the cozy foyer, with its oak coatrack, oak floor, and cream wallpaper edged with a border of perfectly formed evergreens. “I like the way that border brings the farm indoors. I wish I’d taken your advice to come during daylight so I could see the trees.”

“Perhaps some other time,” he heard himself saying.

She gave him a brief look. “Perhaps,” she agreed.

He led her into the living room, unreasonably pleased when she oohed and aahed over the cedar paneling and rustic beamed ceiling. At first he’d been dead set against Peg selling off her life insurance policy to get the down payment for the house and Christmas tree farm they couldn’t quite afford.

But when, during those final, horrific months, she’d gotten such delight out of refurbishing the place, he’d decided going into debt was definitely worth it, if it brought his wife pleasure at a time when so much of her life was filled with pain.

After she’d died—having managed to complete the tiny foyer, the living room, and gotten started on the kitchen—he’d given no further thought to the house. Amy, after all, was too young to care about such decorating details as carpet and paint samples, and his mother, if she did disapprove of the state of the rest of his home, was wise enough not to say so.

“I would have thought your tastes would run toward modern art, brass, and Italian leather,” he said.

“Actually, you’ve just described my apartment.” She ran her fingertips down the cedar wall that gleamed in the lamplight like burnished copper. “But this is more cozy.”

Raine turned her attention toward the man standing beside a tall stone fireplace that looked large enough for some past homesteader family to have cooked in. Even if she hadn’t recognized him, she would have taken him for an O’Halloran. His hair was more of a sun-bleached sandy brown than his cousin’s, his eyes a morning-glory blue rather than gray, and his handsome face more smoothly sculpted, but there was no mistaking that square chin and the sublime self-confidence that radiated from every male pore.

“Hello, Daniel.”

He smiled with his mouth and his eyes and held out his hand. “Hi, Raine. And, it’s Dan.”

When his long fingers closed around hers, Raine was more than a little distressed that she didn’t feel that sensual tug that his cousin could instill with just a look. She’d been hoping that her uncharacteristic response to Jack O’Halloran had merely been the result of her celibate lifestyle.

“It’s great to see you again,” Dan said with genuine warmth. “I wish it could have been under more pleasant circumstances. You’re looking terrific, by the way.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to see you, as well.” That was the absolute truth. She knew it was ridiculous, but Raine was grateful for a chaperone, of sorts. Dan O’Halloran’s presence would ensure that she wouldn’t go completely over the bend and act out any of the crazy, sensual fantasies she’d been having about Coldwater Cove’s sheriff. “So you became a lawyer.”

“Yep. Though I’m not a high-powered corporate one like you. I run a family practice. And speaking of family, how’s Ida?”

“She gave us all quite a scare, but the doctors say she’s fine. Thank heavens.”

“That’s good to hear. She’s a super lady.”

“Even though she can be one gigantic pain in the ass from time to time,” Jack muttered.

Raine turned back toward him. “I should be offended by that.”

He lifted a dark brow. “But?”

“But it’s hard to get up on my high horse when you’re right.”

They all had a little laugh over that. Then, after Jack had served a coffee that Raine found surprisingly tasty, they settled down to business.

An hour later, she’d been forced to reexamine her feelings about Daniel Webster O’Halloran. “You’re very good.”

“You sound surprised.” His smile held not a hint of annoyance at the idea she’d obviously misjudged him.

“I suppose I am.” She ran her fingers up and down the barrel of her pen. “I have to admit that when Jack first mentioned you, I thought that since Coldwater Cove is such a small town—”

“I’d not only have a small practice, but a small, provincial mind, as well.”

“Yes.” There was no point in denying it. “And I’m sorry. As a litigator who spends a great many hours studying jury prospects, I should know better than to prejudge anyone.”

He shrugged shoulders that were as wide as his cousin’s. Another O’Halloran trait, she thought as her gaze slid to Jack, who looked even more substantial than usual in his black fisherman’s sweater and dark jeans. And, dammit, more appealing.

“You don’t have to apologize, Raine.” Dan’s easy voice drew her attention back to their conversation. “There was a time when I would have felt the same way. Which is why, after I graduated Stanford law, I stayed in the Bay Area. San Francisco might not be New York, but it sure seemed like Oz to a kid from Coldwater Cove.”

Dan O’Halloran was not only intelligent, he was a genuinely nice man. The type of man any sensible woman would find appealing. Unfortunately, from her reaction to his more annoying cousin, Raine was discovering that she wasn’t nearly as sensible as she’d thought.

“Jack said you worked in the prosecutor’s office?”

“Yeah.”

They passed a few pleasant minutes sharing war stories and lawyer jokes. For the first time since she’d arrived in Coldwater Cove, Raine relaxed and began to enjoy herself. Of course, she thought, Dan was a lot easier to talk with than his cousin.

“So,” Dan wrapped up another story, “After we’d determined that my client had been unconscious when she was pulled from the car, I asked her what had happened next. ‘Mr. Abernathy gave me artificial insemination,’ she answered. ‘You know, mouth to mouth.”

Raine laughed at that. Jack, she noticed, did not. In fact, now that she thought about it, he’d barely said two words since they finished talking about Gwen’s case.

“I guess I’d better get going.” Dan stood up. “I still have a brief to write before I hit the sack.”

Raine rose as well. Jack stayed sprawled on the overstuffed green-and-cream-dotted-chintz covered sofa. “Well, I certainly appreciate you helping out with this.” She extended her hand to Dan. “I’m feeling much more positive about Gwen’s case.”

“You should.” His fingers curled around hers. “Actually, there wasn’t much reason to be too concerned in the first place.” He glanced over at his cousin, who merely gave him a bland look in return. “I’m surprised Jack didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“That we’ve got an in with the judge.”

“Let me guess. Judge Wally will be hearing Gwen’s case.”

His eyes twinkled, his lips curved upward in another one of those woman-melting smiles that while appealing, failed to move Raine on any primal level. “None other. You know the old adage: A good lawyer knows the law. A great lawyer knows the judge.”

He flashed a grin toward Jack. “Don’t bother seeing me out, cuz. I know the way.”

Jack’s response to that was a grunt.

With that Dan was gone, leaving Raine and Jack alone.

“Well,” she said. “I suppose I’d better be leaving as well.”

“I suppose so.”

His tone was gruff and he sounded definitely irritated. “Are you going to tell me what I did?”

“I don’t have any idea what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” They were standing toe to toe, her looking up at him, him looking down at her. “I may have misjudged your cousin, but I can certainly tell when someone’s ticked off. So, do you want to tell me what I did to offend you? Or are you going to just continue to sulk?”

“Sulk? I never sulk.”

“Well, for a man who never sulks, you’re certainly doing a pretty good imitation of it, Sheriff.”

“You realize, that most women wouldn’t be so quick to insult a man.”

“I’m not most women.”

“No. You’re definitely not.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, then slowly trailed his thumb around her jaw. “You and Dan sure seemed to hit it off.”

The edge was back in his voice.
Could he possibly be jealous
? “He’s a nice man. And we have a lot in common.”

“Yeah. You both have incredible opportunities to screw up other people’s lives.”

“That’s a rather unattractive accusation.”

“You can’t deny that you’re always looking for the angle. The loophole. Any way of putting the facts together that’ll make your case persuasive to the court or jury. Even if the truth gets lost in the process.”

“I hadn’t realized you’d attended law school, Sheriff.”

“I didn’t. But if you spend enough time in courtrooms you catch on pretty quick. Don’t they teach you to argue both sides of a case in law school?”

“Well, of course, but the law is incredibly complex. Arguing both sides teaches the implications of using one rule, as opposed to another.”

“Whatever, the way I see it, law schools are designed to turn out lawyers uncommitted to any ultimate personal values. The kind who can indulge in intellectual and moral acrobatics in the courtroom because clients want contentious, razor-toothed sharks who’ll perform whatever distasteful deeds it takes to win. Lawyers willing to prostitute their legal skills and beliefs to represent clients they might have, at one time, before their heads got all screwed up with power games and courtroom battles, found repugnant.”

Those were the most words he’d strung together since she’d met him. They were also decidedly unflattering. “Why don’t you say what you really think, Sheriff?”

“Are you saying I’m wrong?”