Night Thunder (16 page)

Ada’s tone was light, but beneath it, Josy detected the undercurrent of old pain.

“What was his name?” she asked.

“His name was Cody. Cody Ambrose Shaw.” Her voice sounded odd. Tinged with sadness—and with pride. Though she seemed to be staring intently out at the sunset sky, Josy had the impression she was really seeing something else.
Someone
else.

“Hey, girls, listen to us,” Corinne broke in. “Talking about dead love affairs and all the things that can go wrong. Is this a sob fest or what?”

She grinned. Her mood had skyrocketed since they’d found the dress, and she shot Josy a mischievous glance. “Hmmm, I suppose you have a story or two yourself, Josy.”

“Nothing worth talking about.” Josy winced at the thought of admitting that she’d dated a married man.

“Then for Pete’s sake,” Ada said briskly, glancing at Josy in the backseat. “Let’s talk about happier things. Like this wedding dress. How soon can you draw me a pattern so I can get started? Far be it from me to hold up the wedding because I haven’t finished my part.”

“Oh, Ada, you won’t hold up the wedding,” Corinne assured her. “Now, my shoes—those are a different story. If they don’t get dyed and shipped to me in time, I’ll have to walk down the aisle barefoot.”

“Or in sneakers,” Josy suggested.

“Or in bedroom slippers,” Ada put in. “We can always get you a pair of fuzzy pink ones.”

“Very funny.” But Corinne was laughing and Josy saw she was far more relaxed than she’d been on the drive to Casper.

When she returned to the Pine Hills that night after drawing a pattern for Ada and showing Corinne a sketch of what the dress would look like when she was done with it, Josy was tired, but she felt that things in her life were finally coming together. Her muse seemed to be returning, she felt the old excitement about working on Corinne’s gown, and Ricky had gotten in touch with her at last.

Now all she needed was to try to avoid any further involvement with Ty Barclay. It could only lead to trouble. Big trouble.

Not only was he a lawman—not exactly an ideal lover for a woman who’d fled a murder scene and was hiding an undoubtedly stolen diamond—but he was also, in essence, still a
married
man.

Been there, done that,
she thought grimly.

No matter how hungrily he’d kissed her the other night, or how good his touch had made her feel, it didn’t mean a thing. Meg Barclay still owned his heart, as much as if she were still alive, and from what Josy had heard from Corinne, it sounded like she always would.

Don’t be stupid,
she told herself.
Getting any further
involved with a man who hasn’t gotten over the death of
his wife would be pure masochism. The last thing you
need is to fall in love with a man like that.

Love?

Where had that word come from? she wondered, suddenly feeling cold with fear.
Sure, Ty Barclay saved you
from falling off your horse, he set you on fire with his
kisses, and he gave you pizza when you were hungry. But
love?

Get a grip,
she told herself.

She needed to concentrate on what mattered. Like Ricky getting here soon and taking the damned diamond off her hands.

When that happened, her life would really get on the upswing.

She was putting the key in her lock when she heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Ty Barclay burst through the stairwell door. He’d been running and he looked sweaty and hot and handsomer than any man had a right to in sweatpants and a black T-shirt plastered to his chest.

“I need to talk to you,” he said in a curt tone.

“Well, good evening to you too.”

He smiled but there was an edge of impatience in his eyes. “No time for the niceties right now.” He came toward her and took the key from her hand, turned it in the lock, and pushed open the door. “Let’s go inside.”

Chapter 14

“WHAT IN THE WORLD IS WRONG?”

Even as Josy asked the question inside her apartment, a horrible thought chilled her blood—maybe he’d found out who she was, what she’d done, and all about Ricky and the diamond.

He was going to place her under arrest.

Cold fear grabbed her, but it turned to astonishment at his next words. “Listen to me, Josy. This is important. I want you to stay away from Chance Roper.”

“
What?
Why?”

“I can’t tell you that. Just do it, all right?”

Josy reached out and took her key back from him. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with my seeing Chance?”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Chance wouldn’t hurt me. Why do you think he would?”

“How much do you know about him? Did he ever tell you his background? Why he’s here . . . what he did before getting a job at the Crystal Horseshoe?”

“He’s told me a little of it. He worked at a ranch in Tucson. He likes to move around, see different parts of the country. And he doesn’t like to get tied down to one place. So what? What’s it to you?”

“All I can tell you is that you don’t know as much about him as you think. And what you do know . . . it’s not all true.”

She bit her lip, recalling her conversations with Chance—especially during their two casual, friends-only dates.

None of it had seemed off. None of it had seemed like lies or bullshit. She would have sensed that, wouldn’t she?

Like I sensed it with Doug?
Maybe she wasn’t as good at reading people as she thought.

“He isn’t married, is he?” she demanded suddenly.

“No. But you need to stay away from him, and that’s all I’m going to say.”

A ripple of anger ran through her. He had no right to push his way into her apartment just to warn her away from Chance, not without giving her a good reason. He had no right . . . and probably no basis for this stupid warning either. But then she remembered what had happened today in Casper.

Chance appearing outside the Buffalo Grill. And ignoring her.

So odd. He must have seen her wave to him, but he hadn’t acknowledged it or come inside to say hello.

He’d stared right through her and then walked away with those two men. The same two men Ty had been watching the other night outside the Tumbleweed Bar and Grill.

A disturbing thought came to her. “He hasn’t broken the law or anything? . . . ” she began, then immediately bit her lip. “Oh, please don’t tell me he’s a suspect in the rustling investigation.
Is he?
”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re not denying it.” Distressed, she stared at him, thinking of Chance’s easygoing manner, his friendly flirtation with every woman under ninety. “He isn’t a rustler. Or any kind of criminal.” She shook her head. “He . . . can’t be.”

Ty was quickly reaching the conclusion that he’d only heightened her interest in Roper. He needed to distract her. For her own good, of course.

“You think I’m only trying to eliminate the competition?”

At her startled glance, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Now,
that
I see you can believe.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Chance is just a friend. And you . . .”

“Yes?”

“I haven’t quite figured out what you are,” she told him tartly. As he continued to smile at her, she shot him a dark look.

“And I’m not sure I want to.”

He laughed and reached out for her. His arms snaked around her waist and drew her close.

“I could help you out with that,” he offered in a low drawl that sent shivers across her breasts.

Light flirtation, that’s what this is,
she told herself.
Calm down. You know how to do this.

But did she want to? With the sheriff of Thunder Creek? A man she’d lied to again and again. A man she’d danced with and kissed—and with whom she’d nearly done a whole lot more.

A man who doesn’t have a place for you in his heart,
she reminded herself.

But . . . it didn’t help that he was impossibly sexy, especially with his hair mussed from his run. It didn’t help that she was remembering the way it had felt to be held in his arms last night, or that right at this moment he was caressing her cheek very gently with his thumb.

Most of all, it didn’t help that he was leaning down to kiss her again . . .

Today the kiss was hot, hard, and demanding. She kissed him back, unable to stop herself, and as she did a crazy picture popped into her head . . . an image of herself and Ty Barclay tussling naked on the floor . . .

That’s not going to happen,
she told herself, even as she abandoned herself to the heady power of his kisses.

He made a rough noise in his throat as her lips parted, welcoming him, and Josy felt everything slip away. All that remained was the heat of his mouth on hers, the musky scent of his skin. He was kissing her as if there were no one else in the world and nothing else that mattered. His hands sliding over her skin made every inch of her body come alive.

What had happened to getting a grip? She was lost in him, in his touch, in his heart beating against hers. She was half-crazed by those deep, devouring kisses until suddenly the phone rang.

It was in her purse and the sound was muffled, but she knew immediately what it was . . . and who it must be.

She jerked back from Ty. The color fled from her cheeks.

“Don’t answer that,” he said hoarsely, trying to pull her back, but she slipped from his grasp and seized her purse.

“I’ll only be a minute,” she told him breathlessly.

“Josy. Listen up.”

It was Ricky. Her heart pounded as she flashed a shaky smile at Ty.
Oh God. Not now, Ricky. Not now.

“Yes?” Even to herself her voice sounded high and tense, and it was no surprise that Ricky caught on.

“Is someone there with you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, stay cool, this will only take a second. I’m ditching this phone, getting a new one. I just wanted to tell you, I’ll meet you three days from now, Thursday, in Medicine Bow National Forest. You’ve got a map?”

“Y-yes.”

“Okay, 5 P.M. There’s a rest stop a half mile north of the ranger’s station on Laramie Peak. If I’m not there by fivethirty, get the hell out of there.”

“Yes, but . . .”

“Bring the package, Josy. And be careful.”

The line went dead. Just like the pleasure she’d been taking in Ty Barclay’s kisses.

Ty was watching her, quietly, intently, as she set down the phone. She prayed he wouldn’t ask her any questions.

But of course he did.

“Was that Chance?”

“No.” The word hung in the air between them. Ty said nothing, just held her gaze with his own, waiting, and she could sense his curiosity—and his skepticism.

One thing was clear—he didn’t look like he was in the mood to kiss her anymore.

Which is a good thing,
she told herself.
For both of us
.

“Something has got you all shaken up.”

“Maybe it’s all that kissing we were doing.” She tried a teasing tone, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Obviously it’s that phone call.” He shoved a hand through his hair and took a step closer. For once his eyes didn’t look shuttered and cool. They looked searching . . . concerned. He came to a halt right before her.

“Look, Josy, if something’s wrong, you can tell me. I’d like to help. I’ve had this feeling all along that there’s more to your visit to Thunder Creek than just a working vacation.” He spoke quietly. “If you’re in some kind of trouble, you can level with me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not in trouble.” She tried to laugh but the sound came out shrill and false, even to her own ears. Ricky’s voice echoed through her head.
Bring
the package. And be careful
.

It was almost over. She was so close. She’d get rid of the package and get some answers. But she couldn’t afford to give Ty Barclay any—or to give in to the urge to sink into his arms and be held while she poured out all her guilt and doubt.

She couldn’t do that to Ricky—not now. Not when it was almost over.

“I don’t see why you’d think anything so silly.” She shrugged. “Maybe your suspicious nature is getting the best of you.”

“You think so? I happened to be in Bessie’s Diner yesterday the same time as Maggie Cartright.”

Josy froze. “So?” she asked, striving to sound unconcerned. But it was difficult to appear calm with Ty’s razor-blue eyes fixed relentlessly upon her face.

“So she was talking to Katy Templeton, who had stopped in to see Bessie. Maggie asked her if she knew you. For some reason, she thought you and Katy might have known each other when Katy lived in New York.”

“Katy . . . lived in New York? I didn’t know that.” She added quickly, “But I’m from Chicago. I told you that—”

“Yes, you told everyone that. And that’s exactly what Katy said. But Maggie told her she must be mistaken. You see, Maggie had seen your driver’s license and she distinctly recalled that it said you lived in New York.”

Damn
it. Couldn’t a person get away with any stupid fib in a small town? And weren’t there privacy laws involving librarians?

Not that she was in a position to file a lawsuit. But now Katy, Bessie, Roberta,
Ada
—everyone—would think she was a liar. Just as Ty Barclay did.

“She’s mistaken.” Desperately, she tried to brazen it out.

“Yeah? She seemed pretty sure. You know, Katy owned a restaurant in New York for a while, the Rattlesnake Cafe. Ring a bell?”

Josy’s throat went dry. The Rattlesnake Cafe. She knew of it. She’d even dined there a number of times.

“Never heard of it,” she said crisply. “Maggie Cartright must be mixed up. And why she was gossiping about me I have no idea . . .”

“She wasn’t gossiping. She just seemed to think that maybe you and Katy had become friends, seeing as you had something in common. You’d both lived in New York and had successful careers there. But for your information, if you did live in Chicago, Josy, you’d know about the Rattlesnake Cafe too. That’s where Katy opened her first restaurant, the original Rattlesnake Cafe. It put her on the map, led to her going national. You’re sure you never heard of it—on Michigan Avenue?”

He’s good,
Josy realized.
Painfully good.
And she was still the most pathetic liar in the world.

“Is this an inquisition now? I don’t know why you’re giving me such a hard time and accusing me of . . . what? Lying? And something else? The next thing I know you’ll have me arrested for being a rustler,” she cried.

But Ty shook his head and took hold of her shoulders.

“I’m asking you to level with me, Josy. That’s all. Because I know that’s not the only lie you’ve told.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You said you’re an interior designer. Corinne says you’re decorating some penthouse for a big shot with a condo in the Loop. But these sketches aren’t of sofas and end tables, are they?”

The blood rushed into her cheeks. She couldn’t move for a minute, couldn’t speak, but she knew without glancing down that her latest batch of lame sketches of women’s cocktail suits and party frocks were spread across the wooden coffee table, right beneath Ty Barclay’s nose. And he was too good a cop not to have noticed.

He sees everything,
she realized, and that was a hell of a lot more than she wanted him to see.

“Do you want to level with me?” he asked quietly.

“What I want is for you to leave.
Now
.”

He stared at her. His face no longer reflected sympathy and concern. His eyes had narrowed and they looked flat. And hard.

The eyes of a professional cop.

Fear shot through her. Why had she let herself become involved with him in any way, shape, or form? He was dangerous to her and to Ricky. He could put them both in jail.

She tried to school her face, to keep the fear and the guilt from showing. She threw her shoulders back, stiffened her spine, and tightened her lips.

“I’d like you to leave right now,” she repeated, when what she really wanted more than anything else was to throw herself into those strong, capable arms.

It was no longer possible to see the man who had kissed her with such passion in the hard-eyed stranger who stood before her.

As she held her breath, afraid he’d actually tell her he wanted to take her down to the sheriff ’s department for questioning, he suddenly dropped his hands from her shoulders, turned away, and strode to the door.

“Whatever it is, I might be able to help—if you’d level with me. In the meantime, remember what I said about Chance.”

Then the door slammed behind him and she was alone.