Own the Night (3 page)

“I’m Sheriff Calder.” He settled his Stetson back on his head and discreetly got a look at her high heels. She had to reach six feet in those damn things. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to report a theft. It just happened. If you hurry you can probably still—”

He held up a hand. “Slow down.”

Her brown eyes flared with temper, then narrowed. She pointed at the door, and not in a flirty way. Maybe she wasn’t faking. “While you’re taking your sweet time, someone is getting away with my things.”

“Which would be?” he drawled, aware of his condescending tone, but she’d pissed him off. Taking his sweet time. Shit. And if this really was another theft…great. Just what he needed. The whole county was going to hell. “You’ll have to describe what was stolen.”

“Everything.” She took a quick breath. “My luggage, laptop, purse…oh, God, my iPhone and wallet. Everything.” She briefly closed her eyes, her long dark lashes sweeping the tops of her pale cheeks.

Noah took in her tailored, navy blue slacks, the expensive-looking blazer over a cream-colored blouse buttoned clear up to her throat. “You staying at the Sundance?”

“The what?” She gave her head a small shake. “The Sundance…yes, but I haven’t checked in yet. I only just arrived in town.”

She wasn’t the typical Sundance guest. In fact, she didn’t seem the type interested in staying at a dude ranch. More the high-powered, corner-office type used to getting what she wanted. The kind of domineering woman he’d quickly tired of in Chicago.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her pale pink lips, and she looked helplessly toward the door. By the time she turned to him again, she was back in control and glaring. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Look, I know you’re upset, but I need more information. Why don’t you have a seat?” He pulled out the worn black vinyl chair, and she eyed it as though it might bite her in the ass. “Have a cup of coffee while I take down some—”

“Listen, Sheriff, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but—”

“Glad we understand each other.” He sat in his own chair, behind his desk, and wasn’t surprised when he met her eyes and found they were shooting daggers. “Where did the theft occur?”

She had a wide, generous mouth, which pulled thin with annoyance. “Near the bar,” she said tightly.

“Were you inside?”

“No, I haven’t been drinking,” she said, her hoity-toity tone indicating she wouldn’t step foot in a place like Sadie’s.

“Ma’am, that wasn’t the question. You could be hiding a flask under that jacket for all I care.”

Her lips parted and she blinked. Then she startled him by grabbing her lapels and pulling open her blazer. “No flask, no nothing. That’s my point. Everything. Is. Gone.”

He wouldn’t say “nothing.” She had a nice rack. Noah cleared his throat, forced his gaze away from her breasts and back to the blank incident report he’d pulled out of his desk drawer. “Please describe for me what happened.”

She heaved an annoyed sigh, and he couldn’t help but glance surreptitiously at her chest again. Her blouse was made out of some kind of light silk and he saw that her bra was lacy.... “I was on my way here, rolling my luggage behind me, and just after I passed the bar—”

“Let’s back up. You were on your way here, to my office?”

“Yes, I, um…” She flushed slightly, started to avert her gaze, then lifted her chin and looked at him dead-on. “I was coming to find out how I could get to the Sundance.”

He frowned. She could’ve asked anyone for directions. “Why take your luggage out of the car?”

“I don’t have a car. My ride left me at the edge of town.”

That made no sense. “Why didn’t you go straight to the Sundance?”

“What does that have to do with anything? I was robbed on your main street. You think I stole my own property?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t. Just trying to get a clear picture.” He offered her a conciliatory smile. It appeared she really was a victim, and he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion the moment she’d walked in. He’d gotten too used to the flimsy excuses the Sundance ladies had been throwing his way, trying to get his attention. “I haven’t asked your name.”

“Alana.”

He waited for her last name.

“Look, Sheriff, I don’t understand how this could’ve happened in broad daylight. I only looked away for a moment. In New York I wouldn’t dare, but I figured in a small town like this…” She shrugged her slim shoulders, then slumped back with a sigh. “I understand it was my error. I should’ve been more careful.”

“You’re from New York, then?”

She hesitated, a flicker of alarm in her eyes that also made no sense. “Yes.”

“I didn’t catch your last name.”

There it was again—that same wariness that had her shoulders tensing and straightening. After a long pause she said, “Richardson.”

He slowly printed her name on the report, his cop’s sixth sense on full alert. “How did you hear about the Sundance?”

She leaned forward. “Could it be someone playing a prank? I saw kids on the street earlier. Crime can’t be much of a problem around here.”

“You said you passed the Watering Hole?”

“That’s right.”

“Today is payday for most of the ranch hands. They were swarming outside the place, last I saw.”

“Yes, there were quite a few cowboys hanging around.”

Noah stopped writing and stared at her. “And that’s where your things disappeared?”

She nodded. “An older gentleman stopped me, and it happened while I was talking to him. That’s why I looked away.”

“Did you get his name?”

“Gunderson.”

Noah threw down his pen and leaned back. “What did Gunderson want with you?”

“He asked if I was staying at the Sundance. And then…” She made a face, appeared to reconsider what she’d been about to say. “I think he was just being nosy.”

Noah reckoned she was probably right about that. Gunderson had always had it in for the McAllisters, but since they’d opened the dude ranch and were raking in money, he’d been especially ill-tempered. Their success meant they were unlikely to sell him that strip of land he wanted so badly.

“All those men out there…they would’ve noticed you,” Noah said. “Someone had to have seen something.”

“They were too busy to notice me,” she said quietly.

“I doubt that.”

Her startled expression and piercing stare made him reexamine his words. No, he hadn’t said anything wrong, but maybe his tone could’ve been more professional. Hell, he hadn’t consciously been thinking about what he’d glimpsed hiding behind that jacket.... But the notion that he might’ve blurred the line between the office and his personal feelings didn’t sit well.

“Trust me,” she said finally, her lips lifting in a faint smile. “There were three women who had the men’s full attention.”

Noah knew who she meant, but that didn’t preclude the boys from checking her out. Yeah, the young cowhands in the area tended to go for that sort of flash, at least since the Sundance had been drawing in the ladies.

The woman facing him was different, one of those understated beauties. The longer you studied the high cheekbones, the nice skin, her generous mouth, the prettier she got. He knew most of those boys hanging out at Sadie’s this afternoon, and they’d looked, all right. Noah could guarantee her that.

He picked up the pen again, his gaze catching on the fax sitting on the corner of his desk. Late twenties, tall, attractive, brown hair, brown eyes.

His gaze shot back to Alana Richardson.

Well, hell.

3

B
ETWEEN
THE
POINTLESS
questions and phone calls he’d answered since they started, the report was taking forever. And with each passing moment, life as she knew it was slipping away. The only compensation for this monumental hassle was that Alana liked the way the sheriff held his pen. Or more accurately, she liked his hands. Big-boned and tanned, with a light sprinkling of fine hair across the backs of his fingers. His uniform shirtsleeves were rolled back a couple times, displaying broad wrists and muscular forearms.

He stopped writing, and she lifted her gaze to find his mesmerizing blue-green eyes studying her face. Her breathing faltered for a second. The sheriff really was an extraordinarily good-looking man. Even better in person than in the photos.

She ordered herself to inhale slowly and focus on the problem. Oh, God, that’s why she was so preoccupied with the sheriff. Every time she let herself consider the ramifications of losing her belongings, she thought she’d pass out. “Yes?”

“Other than Gunderson, did you talk to anyone?”

“No. I don’t believe so.”

He returned his gaze to the report and frowned slightly, pushing a hand through his longish, sun-streaked brown hair. It was thick, just like his lashes, which did nothing to distract from the rugged, outdoor look he had going on. Part of her job was to notice that sort of detail. Like how his biceps bunched and strained the material of his tan shirt as his hand slowly slid through his hair and then paused at the back of his neck.

No wonder those women had mentioned him in their reviews of the Sundance. Alana would sign him up for a print ad in a hot second. Or any kind of ad, for that matter. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like at this point. Her poor limp hair needed work in the best of situations, and after that long plane ride, then Harvey’s rust-mobile… Most of her makeup must have melted off by now. Hoping for a peek in her compact mirror, she glanced down for her purse.

With a start, she remembered it was gone. Along with her luggage and laptop and phone. That’s why she was sitting here. She could feel the panic start to rise once more in her throat, in her chest. She lived her life on that phone, on that laptop. She barely knew anyone’s phone number because they were all on speed dial or in her contact list. She hadn’t spent twenty-four hours without access to the internet for longer than she cared to remember.

Not to mention her clothes or her makeup—which was worth a fortune. Her night cream alone cost a hundred dollars an ounce. She let out a small, pathetic whimper that surprised both of them.

The sheriff jerked his head up. “You all right?” He pushed away from his desk and got to his feet, his concerned gaze staying on her as he moved to a well-used coffeepot sitting on a metal filing cabinet. “I should’ve offered you something to drink. Water, coffee?”

What she needed was a good belt of Scotch. She wondered if he had a bottle stashed in his desk, because she sure didn’t have cash to buy herself a drink. “Water,” she said, nodding. “I could use some water.”

She stared down at her watch. It was too late in New York to call her bank and have money wired. Pam had left yesterday for Europe, so she’d be no help. But it would be all right. Yes, it was an emergency, but Alana was good in emergencies. She had her reservation at the Sundance, which took care of a room and meals. They had her credit card information as a guarantee, since Alana had known she’d be late, after having missed her flight last night....

“Here you go.”

The nearness of his voice startled her. She looked up and found him standing next to her, a bottle of water in his hand. He was really tall, well over six feet. She’d noticed when she first entered the office, which was something, considering her state of mind. She managed a smile and accepted the water, trying out one of those deep breathing tricks Pam was always hounding her about. The one that was supposed to calm her body. “Thank you.”

He swung back around his desk, and she quickly inspected his ass as he pulled out his chair. Impressive. Before he caught her ogling him, she concentrated on uncapping the bottle, then tilting it to her lips. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she’d gulped down half the contents.

She used her fingertip to dab at the corner of her damp mouth, then met his eyes. Wow, the man was intense. The way he studied her was beginning to make her nervous. It seemed out of place. She’d have expected that intensity in Manhattan, but not ten miles north of nowhere.

His phone rang and he finally looked away, to answer the call. “Sheriff Calder,” he said into the receiver, his gaze coming back to her, briefly skimming the front of her blouse and then resting on something over her left shoulder. “Anything?” he asked the caller. “Right.” His brows puckered in a slight frown as he listened, and then he leaned way back in his chair, his hand behind his head, making his biceps bunch again.

Alana didn’t care if he knew she was staring at him. Once she told him what she did for a living he’d understand that her interest was purely professional. Anyway, a man like him had to be used to the stares. So far, with his strong, square jaw and sexy eyes, his wide shoulders, broad chest and flat belly, she hadn’t found a single flaw. The search was the only thing that was keeping her halfway sane.

It was a bit annoying, really. Unnerving, too, because he wasn’t even her type. He lacked the polished sophistication that normally attracted her. Or if a man could get a reservation at Per Se on a Saturday night, that went a long way in piquing her interest.

All that crap aside, she’d do the sexy sheriff in a New York minute.

“What about Gunderson?” he asked the caller, and her gaze shot up to his face. He was watching her again, his eyes probing hers. “Okay. Check back.”

“Was that about me?” she asked before he replaced the receiver. “Was anything recovered?”

He shook his head. “That was Deputy Tisdale who called earlier. He’s been talking to the boys who were standing outside the Watering Hole. None of them saw anything.”

She slumped back. At least Sheriff Calder took this seriously enough to have his deputy on the scene. “That seems impossible. How many people are walking around town rolling a big suitcase behind them?”

He raised his eyebrows, his dubious expression and head tilt difficult to interpret. It couldn’t be that he didn’t believe her.... Could it?

Alana straightened. “You can’t possibly think I’m making this up.”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Why?” She threw up her hands. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“No need to get upset.” He reached for the phone again. “You have family you want to call?”

“Oh, God, no.” She waved him off. “I remember something else—a loud noise came from the bar, like glass shattering. And there was an alley close to where I was talking to Mr. Gunderson… Did your deputy question him?”

“He hasn’t been located yet.” The sheriff slowly moved his hand away from the receiver. “What about this noise?”

“It sounded as if a waitress might have dropped a tray, and everyone turned to look toward the door. That’s when someone could’ve grabbed my suitcase.”

“By alley, you’re referring to that narrow walkway between Sadie’s and the bank?”

“I don’t recall what was next door, but it led to a parking lot.”

Nodding vaguely, he jotted something down at the bottom of the report.

Alana watched him, the enormity of her situation once again sinking in until she could barely breathe. She had no ID to travel, no money, not even a toothbrush, or a flat iron to straighten her hair. At least she had a place to sleep, she reminded herself before panic could take over. And she had her Rolex for collateral, though she imagined a place like the Sundance would cut her a break. Surely they’d help her arrange for toiletries or clothes or whatever else she needed until she could repay them.

“You know the people who run the Sundance, right?”

The sheriff looked up. “The McAllisters.” He nodded. “Good folks.”

“I was hoping…” She bit her lip. This was new territory for her. She wasn’t in the habit of asking for help, or needing anyone. “I’m going to have to ask them for some assistance.”

His eyes narrowed, the sudden distrust on his face quite insulting. “Such as?”

Alana cleared her throat. “I don’t even have a damn toothbrush.”

“Ah. I can help out with that.”

“Well, I’ll need a few more things than a toothbrush and toothpaste. Look, I’d like to call the Sundance.” She reached for the phone. “You mind?”

He hesitated, then lifted the receiver and punched in a number. When it became obvious he was going to play facilitator, she leaned back, more than a little miffed. She hated being at other people’s mercy.

She hadn’t realized she’d sighed out loud until she met his probing gaze. He was wasting his time in this small town, she decided. With that cool, stoic stare he’d make an excellent big-city detective.

“Hey, Rachel,” he said into the receiver, and his expression was suddenly transformed. Jesus, he was even better-looking when his features relaxed. “No, haven’t seen him.” He leaned back in his chair again and went into what she now considered his telephone pose—one hand behind his head, biceps bulging, his broad chest tapering to his narrow waist. “Was he planning to stop by?”

That he was making small talk instead of focusing on her problem took a few seconds to register. Irritation broke through her admiration, and Alana sat up straight, tall and pissed. He seemed to get the drift, but instead of getting down to business, he held up his hand as he continued to chit-chat with the woman. Maybe Rachel was his girlfriend.

Finally, after a few more moments, Alana noisily cleared her throat.

Sheriff Calder’s gaze touched on her face, then slid past her without hesitation.

Good-looking, yes, but he sure could be annoying.

“I’ll be on the lookout for him,” he said lazily. “Look, Rach, I got a small problem here with one of your guests. What? No.” His attention shot back to the window and his eyes narrowed in frustration. “But I’m warning you, that crap has to stop. Those gals…” He clamped his mouth shut as he resettled himself behind his desk and picked up the report.

Alana didn’t try to hide her smile. She thought she saw a trace of color underscore his tanned skin, and suspected she knew what that part of the conversation was about. So the sheriff wasn’t impressed with his fan club.

He focused on the piece of paper in front of him. “Alana Richardson. She hasn’t checked in yet, but—” He frowned at Alana, repeated her name into the receiver, then fell silent.

She leaned forward. “What?”

“There’s no reservation under that name.”

“Yes, there is. I made it yesterday. I have a confirmation number right here…” No, she didn’t. She had no purse, no nothing. “Dammit.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and held out her hand. “May I speak with her?”

He listened intently for a minute, now holding up one finger instead of his hand, his impassive gaze flickering over her face. “She remembers now. You made a reservation for two, but that was for yesterday. You didn’t show up so she sold the room to someone else.”

“Because I missed my flight. But I gave her a credit card to guarantee the reservation.” This was a nightmare. A complete and utter nightmare.

He held his palm over the phone. “Where’s your companion?”

“What companion?”

“You booked the reservation for two.”

“No, I didn’t. She has me confused with someone else. I came alone. I’d like to talk to her.” Alana still had her hand out, and through gritted teeth, added, “Please.”

“That’s okay,” he said to Rachel. “I’ll take care of it. I’m sure.”

Alana watched him hang up the phone, her temper near boiling. “I asked to speak with her.”

“I’m sorry, in the middle of the conversation something came up on her end. But she told me that she’s completely booked. She has no rooms at all.”

“What am I supposed to do? Sleep in the alley?”

He smiled. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“You think this is funny, Sheriff?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t.” He didn’t seem the slightest bit chastened as he pushed away from the desk and started to stand. But the office door opened, and he stayed right where he was.

Alana turned to see who’d just wiped the faint smirk off his face. Two of the blondes she’d seen earlier walked in, very perky blondes in their early twenties. They were certainly full of smiles for the sheriff.

No cheery welcome from him, Alana noticed when she turned back to follow his reaction.

His mouth was a narrow line, thin and unsmiling. “Yes, ladies, what can I do for you?”

“We were hoping you’d be getting off work about now,” one of them said. “Doesn’t Roy or Gus have the second shift?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I’m still on duty.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “When do you get off, Noah?”

His gaze flickered to Alana, who wouldn’t give up her front-row seat for anything. She didn’t even turn to check out the woman who was talking. Much more informative to watch him trying not to squirm. Oh, he was good at hiding his reaction, but Alana had no doubt he was not happy with the attention.

“Is there sheriff’s business I can help you with, ma’am?” he asked evenly, getting up and grabbing his hat off the scarred wooden table that seemed to serve as a credenza.

“I told you already, you can call me Cindy,” she said with a hint of frustration in her voice.

Alana pressed her lips together and watched him lazily set the Stetson on his head. She was pretty sure his actions were meant as a dismissal, but the way he looked settling that cowboy hat on his head was not going to get any woman with a pulse to turn around and leave.

While his attention was directed elsewhere, Alana studied his fancy belt buckle and wondered if he’d won it in a rodeo competition. That would make him very popular in the New York print market. She could see him as the face of one of Ralph Lauren’s colognes. She knew next to nothing about real rodeos or cowboys, only what she’d gleaned from movies she’d watched as a kid. These days, who had time for movies? Certainly not her, though she knew how to appreciate a fine male specimen. But then, that was a trait learned over years of dealing with models and actors. Alana was highly aware that the package had little to do with the contents.