Own the Night (4 page)

And his package was exceptional. The way the worn denim caressed his lean hips and hard-looking thighs brought her back to the idea that he’d spent considerable time sitting astride a horse. She’d like to see that, she decided—him riding a large, powerful stallion. She didn’t have the faintest idea why the image suddenly appealed to her. The whole fleeting fantasy of a hot vacation fling was crazy.

She should be furious with the man for his attitude, his cavalier approach to the theft. The last thing on her mind should be his physique or his discomfort over the attention. And what the hell had happened to her reservation? This whole trip was the worst idea in the history of ideas, and all Alana wanted was to get back on a plane and go home.

But first, she needed her purse and her luggage, because without her ID, she wasn’t going anywhere. “Can we finish this?” she asked, her patience thinning as he strolled past her toward the other two women.

He went to the door, opened it. “Ladies, if there’s nothing else, I have business to attend to.”

The blondes exchanged defeated glances. “If you change your mind we’ll be at the Watering Hole,” Cindy said and led her disappointed friend outside.

He gave Alana a dry look as he returned to his desk and pulled out his middle drawer.

“I read the reviews for the Sundance,” she said, knowing it would bother him. “You’re quite popular.”

He concentrated on whatever he was looking for, but she could see irritation deepen into brackets at the corners of his mouth. “Ready?”

She sprang up. “Where are we going?”

“To get you settled in.”

“Thank you,” she said, heading for the door, and feeling no guilt for having baited him. He had all the power, and that wasn’t something she could easily accept. She’d needed to even things up a bit. Show him she could be indifferent to his charms and that she wasn’t a helpless victim. “I appreciate this, and I’ll certainly reimburse your office for any costs—”

“Not that way.”

She hesitated, turned, her gaze darting to the key he held in his hand.

He motioned with his chin toward the back of the office, where a short hall led to another door. A bathroom? Not that she couldn’t use one about now, but she’d prefer to purchase some toiletries first. Or more likely, his truck was parked out back....

Alana pulled her blazer more snugly around herself, mostly because she needed something to do with her hands. She was used to carrying a purse or her phone, and she couldn’t shake the odd feeling of having nothing to hold on to.

The sheriff gestured for her to precede him down the hall. It was a small space and she had to squeeze by him. Her arm brushed his chest, and her hip touched God-knew-what, but the brief contact was enough to quicken her pulse, which was unnerving for a number of reasons. Her appraisal of the sheriff had been strictly professional.

She grabbed the doorknob, couldn’t budge it, then felt him reach around her.

“It’s not locked,” he said, his face so close that his warm breath tickled her ear. “It just sticks.” He jiggled the knob, then pushed the door open.

For a long, absurd moment she hesitated. He’d lightly touched the small of her back, or at least she thought she felt the pressure of his hand, and she had a bit of trouble maintaining her balance. Probably dehydrated, she reasoned, or weak from hunger. Had she eaten today? Nope, just black coffee on the plane. With as much traveling as she’d done one would think she wouldn’t still have a nervous stomach every time she flew.

“Ms. Richardson?”

“What?” Startled, she turned too quickly and had to hold on to the wall for support.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

This time there was no doubt that he’d pressed a palm to her back. “Look at me,” he said, catching her chin and bringing her face around to his. Eyes shaded with concern, he looked deep into hers before moving on to study her face. “You look pale.”

“It’s nothing.” She jerked her chin away. “I’ve had a long day. It’s not easy getting from New York to Montana at the last minute.”

“You were in a hurry?” He didn’t look concerned now, just appeared oddly invested in her answer.

“I suppose you could say that.” She smiled wryly, wondering how her mother had reacted to the cryptic message she had left her. Alana had even gone so far as to tell her housekeeper and doorman she’d be in the Caribbean in case her mother contacted them. Eleanor would be at wit’s end by now, analyzing how she’d lost control of her daughter. “I’d prefer you call me Alana.”

“All right.” His mouth curved slightly. “Noah is okay with me.”

His stare was surprisingly captivating, and she forced herself to turn away before she made a fool of herself. God forbid she start acting like one of his groupies. She pushed the door open the rest of the way. Three steps over the threshold, she froze.

The entire room consisted of two jail cells, each one furnished with nothing more than a cot and a toilet.

4

W
HEN
SHE
WOULDN
’
T
MOVE
, N
OAH
sidestepped her and unlocked the cell with the small barred window and the newer cot. He did feel a twinge of guilt for coldcocking her. For one thing, she might be innocent, a tourist in the wrong place at the wrong time, just as she’d claimed. If that proved to be the case, he’d still feel bad for the McAllisters. Rachel had worked hard to build the dude ranch business, and if news of this incident got out, people might not be so anxious to come to Blackfoot Falls.

The other thing was, Alana really had looked pale a minute ago. But then if she was Sheriff Moran’s suspect and had been double-crossed by her partner, yeah, she might be feeling a little helpless and panicked.

Or she was playing Noah like a fiddle. He couldn’t take that chance. He hadn’t had a lot of personal experience with grifters, but he’d heard plenty of stories. Most of them centered around a brazen act, something so crazy no one ever thought to question it. Like, say, turning to the town sheriff for help then waiting for the right moment to escape across the border.

Either way, whether she was innocent or on the make, he had to deal with facts, which defied the likelihood that she’d been robbed in broad daylight in front of half a dozen cowboys who hadn’t seen a thing. True, the recent thefts had to be considered, but they fell into a different category, with a different M.O. The victimology was wrong.

It could have been the varsity team, but they toed the line under the new coach. And then, too, someone could be yanking Noah’s chain because of all the attention he’d been getting from the Sundance female guests. Not Cole or Jesse. They knew better. But he wouldn’t put it past Trace to send someone like Alana into his office with some cockamamie story just to get a rise out of him.

He stood back, holding the cell door open, and eyed the disbelief on her face. If she was faking her appalled reaction, she was a damn good actress, he’d give her that.

“You’re kidding.” She slowly turned her head and regarded him, wide-eyed with shock. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“You’ll have clean sheets.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, then quickly removed it and stiffened her spine. “I am not staying in that…that—” She shuddered. “Oh, my God. This is seriously, seriously insane. I’m already a victim and you want to further victimize me by sticking me in a jail cell?”

“No, ma’am. The way I see it, I’m offering you a safe place to sleep.”

She made a small, exasperated sound of distress.

“The meals aren’t bad, either. Marge at the diner will bring over breakfast and supper.”

“Okay,” Alana said with forced calmness, her brown eyes blazing mad. “If this is supposed to be a joke, it’s not funny in the least.”

“You tell me. Is this a joke? Did Trace put you up to this?”

She blinked, rubbing her left temple. “Who the hell is Trace?”

Noah sighed. Maybe that had been reaching too far. She hadn’t been flirty or silly like the other women staying at the Sundance.

“I apologize. It’s just that—” He cleared his throat. “You did seem to be enjoying that little scene back there,” he said, glancing toward the office.

“Oh.” A small, guilty smile curved her generous mouth. “Well, yes, you’re right. I did.” Her gaze returned to the jail cell. “Come on, this is overkill.”

Overkill?
Took him a second. “This isn’t payback. I honestly figured this might be a good solution.” He shrugged. “At least for tonight.”

Her lips parted and she stared at him with those pretty brown eyes. “I have money. I do. Isn’t there a hotel in town?”

He shook his head.

“I’d like to speak to that woman at the Sundance,” Alana insisted. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement. I’ll sleep on a couch if I have to.”

Damn, he couldn’t let her talk to Rachel. The truth was, Rachel had offered to scare up a room for her in the family wing. Not knowing if this woman was a criminal or not, Noah couldn’t unleash her on the McAllisters. No, better he keep an eye on her until he sorted out her identity. When all was said and done, it was mighty suspicious that she wouldn’t call family or a friend.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, closing the cell door. “I live around the corner and I have a spare room.”

She stared at him as if he’d asked her to submit to a strip search. “You’re suggesting I stay with
you.
”

“That’s right.” Already, he was regretting the offer. Installing her at his house made sense, though. He could keep an eye on her, and if she truly was a victim, the least he could do was give her a safe place to sleep. “There’s not much to the guest room, but it has a double bed with a new mattress. Nothing else in there, but then you don’t have any luggage.”

She nibbled at her lower lip. “Wouldn’t people talk?”

Unprepared for that reaction, Noah laughed out loud.

Alana glared at him. “Just because I don’t look like Cindy doesn’t mean people wouldn’t gossip behind your back.”

He shook his head. She’d surprised him again. “I didn’t peg you for someone who gave a crap about what people thought.”

“Believe me, I don’t.” She looked as if she meant it. In fact, she looked as if it would take a sizable quake to rattle her.

He knew the type. She reminded him of a woman he’d dated in Chicago. Kara was a defense lawyer, a real ball-buster who’d ended up driving him nuts with her need for perfection, eye always on the prize, never taking a moment to watch the grass grow. That was one of the reasons he was having trouble buying that Alana would choose to go to a dude ranch. “Let’s get you settled in, and then we can grab supper at Marge’s. How does that sound?”

“A toothbrush sounds better.”

“Just so happens I have a spare at home.” He motioned for her to go first down the hall.

“I bet you do,” she muttered under her breath as she strode past him.

He smiled, guessing she hadn’t meant to be overheard. He followed her but stayed far enough behind to enjoy the view. The hip-length jacket got in the way, but she had nice long legs even without the heels.

“I’m going to need a few other things,” she said over her shoulder. “I hope your office has some petty cash. Naturally, we’ll keep a record of my expenditures, and like I said earlier, I’ll reimburse you for everything.”

They got to the outer office and she abruptly spun to face him. Caught by surprise, he nearly rammed into her. His arms shot out, and he caught her shoulders when she teetered toward him.

“Oh, sorry.” She placed a palm on his chest and steadied herself.

“Are you dizzy?”

“No, not at all.” She lowered her hand.

He didn’t let go. Her shoulders were slimmer than he’d expected, more fragile under the heavy tweed blazer. He wanted to make sure she didn’t start reeling. “That’s the second time you’ve lost your balance. Maybe we ought to stop by the clinic.”

She adamantly shook her head, loosening the hair that had been tucked behind her ears, until it swung freely around her heart-shaped face. “If you have a piece of hard candy, that might help. I think it’s low blood sugar.”

“Are you diabetic?”

“No, I just haven’t eaten in a while.”

“We’ll have to take care of that right away.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the chair.

“Really, I’m okay.” Her laugh was short, nervous, maybe embarrassed. She refused to sit. “I’d rather go pick up some toiletries and get to your house.”

He knew Roy kept candy in his desk because his wife didn’t allow it in their home. Noah found a hard butterscotch and a few Hershey kisses in the deputy’s top drawer. “Here you go.”

She took the butterscotch from his open palm. “I don’t even care if it’s stale.”

He chuckled. “I doubt Roy leaves sweets around long enough.”

“Thank him for me.” She bowed her head and delicately peeled open the wrapper with trembling fingers.

In spite of himself, Noah felt his chest tighten with sympathy. He again urged her to sit down, and then got a fresh bottle of water out of the minifridge. He uncapped the bottle before setting it on the desk in front of her, and watched her slip the butterscotch into her mouth.

The tip of her tongue swiped at her lower lip, and his whole body tensed for a moment. He rolled a shoulder and glanced away. Maybe he ought to sit down, too. She might need a minute. He sure did. He felt better once he’d put his desk between them.

Her gaze went to his chest, then drifted up to meet his. “I’m being a real pain in the ass, aren’t I?”

“Not your fault. Hope you don’t hold what happened against the Sundance.” He kept his eyes steady on hers. “The McAllisters are fine folks.”

“Of course I wouldn’t hold any of this against them. Good God, I shouldn’t have let go of the suitcase handle. I’m a New Yorker. I know better.”

“You don’t have an accent.”

Her sudden smile caught him off guard. She was plenty attractive, but when her lips tilted up like that she could throw a man off his game. “Neither do you, Sheriff.”

“Reckon I deserved that.”

“I knew what you meant.” Her smile fading, she idly tugged at her blouse collar, then unfastened the top button. “I went to prep school in Connecticut. No common accents allowed. And if the headmistress hadn’t put her foot down, Eleanor would have.” Alana slid the second button free and took a deep breath. “Are we leaving soon? Otherwise I think I’ll take off my jacket. It’s a bit warm in here.”

He wouldn’t mind seeing what she looked like under that heavy tweed.... Hell, what was wrong with him? “How are you feeling? Think you could walk to my truck at the curb?”

Her cheeks were slightly flushed. “We’re going straight to the store, aren’t we?”

“If we are, better you sip some water and wait to give that sugar a chance to work.”

Moistening her lips, she nodded, then started to reach for the bottle. She stopped and shrugged out of her jacket. “I’m too warm.”

Noah stared at her thrusting breasts, realized what he was doing, and forced his gaze out the window. “Why haven’t you eaten?”

She hesitated, long enough that her apparent reluctance to answer drew his attention back to her. “I was rushed.” She grabbed the water bottle, looked away and gulped greedily.

He got the impression she didn’t want to be pressed. “In a hurry to get out of the city?”

“Sort of.” She dabbed at her mouth and sighed. “I feel better already. I thought it would be cooler here this time of year.”

“Oh, it’s plenty cool at this altitude and this far north, especially after the sun sets. Might be a little stuffy because I’d just closed everything up before you walked in. Ever been to Montana before?”

She gave him a small, rueful smile. “No. I haven’t spent a lot of time outside of the two coasts.”

Well, if she was one of the pair who’d pulled off those scams in Potter County, she was a damn fine actress. Or maybe Noah plain ol’ wanted to believe her. That wasn’t good. He adjusted his hat and got to his feet. “Think you’re ready?” he asked gruffly.

She blinked at him, then arranged her jacket over her arm. Her eyes watchful and confused, she slowly got up.

God, he was an ass. “We can wait if you need to.”

Her chin lifted with determination. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

He nodded, then walked ahead of her to get the door. Standing aside, holding it open while she crossed the threshold, he recalled something odd she’d said earlier. “By the way, who’s Cindy?”

* * *

W
HEN
A
LANA
LEARNED
THAT
HIS
house sat on a side road half a block down, and that he normally left his truck in front of the office when he went home, she insisted they walk, as well. The crisp air felt good, almost too chilly, but she’d scared herself back in his office.

They were about to walk past the Watering Hole when Noah touched her arm and indicated they should cross the street. “Isn’t this jaywalking?” she asked as they stepped off the curb.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “Guess you are feeling better.”

After they got to the other side, she stopped and looked back. “Oh, did you want to duck in and say hi to Cindy and her friend?”

Noah practically glowered at her. “This is how you repay my hospitality.”

She laughed and hurried to catch up with his new, quicker pace. “Come on, that was impossible to resist.”

“You can always sleep in the jail.” He rolled down one sleeve and then went to work on the other.

“Speaking of jail, what are you planning to do about Mr. Gunderson and my stolen luggage?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “The deputies and I will question everyone who could have been anywhere near the Watering Hole. Someone had to have seen something.”

“Gunderson certainly did.”

“I’ll be talking to him myself.”

“When?”

That brought a scowl to the sheriff’s face, but she didn’t care. While it was fine that he’d lend her a toothbrush, she wanted her own.

“Soon,” he said, as he continued their walk.

They turned on a short side street and headed up the slight incline. Nothing more was said until he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

“Here we are.”

She turned her head to see a small blue house with white trim and a matching picket fence. “This is yours?”

“It belongs to the county.” He opened the gate. “Comes with the job.”

“It’s cute.”

He grunted. “Yeah.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“I know,” he said flatly, and motioned for her to get going.

She passed through the open gate, but took her time following the walkway that wound toward the red front door, trying to imagine the bordering beds filled with bright-colored flowers. There were remnants of dead daisies and carnations. A few pink and yellow mums were still in decent shape.

She stopped at the porch and turned for a last look. “Did you plant these flower beds yourself?”

“No.” He almost sounded insulted.

“Real men do plant flowers,” she said.

“Maybe.” He took the four steps up to the covered porch, two at a time. “This one doesn’t.” He opened both the screen and wooden doors, neither of which were locked. “The ladies from the betterment committee tend to the yard.”