The Sheriff's Surrender (16 page)

“Good luck with your young lady. I'll look forward to hearing the results later.”

Reese made it to Heartbreak in good time. He didn't abuse his authority as sheriff in any way but one—he did like to get to places quickly without having to worry about a speeding ticket. But the same was true of virtually everyone with a
driver's license. He just happened to be in a position to make it happen.

When he got home, he found Neely sitting in the kitchen. A magazine was open on the table in front of her, but she was ignoring it and staring off into space instead. She looked forlorn. Defeated.

He set the bags on top of the magazine, then removed his hat. She stared at the bags, looked blankly up at him, then opened the first one, studying each book, stacking them neatly together. The second bag held the chocolate—three bottles of the ice cream topping and three large bags of kisses. She looked at him again, one brow raised, and he shrugged as he removed his gun belt.

“These are plain, with almonds and white chocolate.” The cellophane bags crinkled as he touched each one. “And the ice cream stuff is chocolate, fudge and chocolate with some kind of crunchy stuff in it.” His face warm, he shrugged again awkwardly. “You didn't say what kind you wanted, so I got all of them.”

She stood and surprised the embarrassment right out of him by rising onto her toes to brush her mouth across his. For an instant he was too stunned to move. He caught his breath, which teased him with the faint scent of her, and a shudder rocketed through him, making his skin tingle and his muscles tighten.

That tiny, little-nothing kiss was all she meant to give. He knew that. He also knew he wanted more. Snaking his arm around her waist, he held her tightly when she tried to back away, pulled her body hard against his and claimed her mouth as if he had a right. She tasted sweet and hot, full of secrets, of mysteries and incredible pleasure. When she opened her mouth to his tongue, he grew hard where her hips cradled his. When she clung as if she needed him, he wondered crazily, seriously, if they could make it to the bedroom, if he could hold out long enough to get inside her.

And when he tasted the salt from her silent tears, his lust died an instant death.

He ended the kiss, pulled her arms from around his neck, hushed her protests and simply held her. He
didn't
have a right to kiss her, hold her, have her. After everything he'd done, and everything he hadn't done, he didn't deserve to even want her.

But God help him, he did.

“Are you okay?” His voice was thick, hoarse.

Without lifting her head from his shoulder, she nodded.

“So all it takes to make you happy is three pounds of chocolate candy and a little ice-cream topping?”

At that, she did raise her head and smile faintly as she dried her cheeks. “It's not the chocolate.”

He knew that. It was the fact that finally he'd thought to ask what she wanted. That he'd bought all the choices rather than disappoint her with the wrong one. That at last he'd shown her some consideration.

The chocolate was wonderful, Neely thought with a sniffle, but that wasn't the reason for her tears. It was the fact that he'd kissed her, just like old times. Gotten turned on by her, just like old times. Even would have made love to her like old times.

And he still would have hated her when they were done.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could bear his hatred.

Moving out of his embrace might have been the hardest thing she'd ever done. Even if he did despise her, she felt safe there, and always had. She'd known from the first time he'd held her that nothing bad could happen to her in his arms. The problems in her past seemed less important there. Her world felt more secure. Even getting shot would have hurt less if he'd held her.

But those were
her
feelings. His were vastly different. He felt lust, tempered by derision.

“I—I— Thank you for the books and…and the chocolate.” She nervously brushed her hair back, laced her fingers together, then shoved her hands into the pockets of her jumper.

“I'll behave better. I promise.”

His mouth tightened into a thin line, and the emotion that
had softened his dark eyes disappeared. “It wasn't a bribe, Neely.”

“I know. I didn't mean…” Behind her the timer beeped, and she spun on her heel, grateful for the excuse to turn away. She opened the oven door and unnecessarily checked the ham and the rice casserole on the rack above it. “It's awfully convenient, having your freezer filled with wonderful food that needs nothing more than a little time in the oven.”

“You like to cook,” he said flatly.

Her smile was unsteady. “I'm surprised you remember.”

“I remember everything.”

So did she. She remembered how much she'd loved him. How even the most mundane chores had been special when shared with him. How sometimes she'd awakened in the middle of the night, cold or startled or unsettled by a dream, and he'd automatically pulled her close and wrapped himself around her. How she'd soaked in the tub some mornings and watched him shave at the bathroom sink and thought those few quiet minutes were her favorite part of the day.

And what did he remember? That she'd refused to take his advice on which cases to accept and which to refuse. That she'd caused him no end of teasing, sometimes friendly, usually not, from the other deputies. That he'd liked having sex with her. And that he could walk away from her without even a moment's regret.

Still smiling shakily, she turned from the stove. “Do you remember that we're supposed to renegotiate the terms of my imprisonment?”

“Your visit.”

“My incarceration. I'm locked up. I can't go anywhere. I can't use the phone. I can't have visitors. I'm your prisoner.” She would have changed those last words, given the chance, because they reminded her of the night last week when he'd held up the handcuffs.
Been there, done that,
she'd quipped.
And enjoyed it a lot,
he'd replied in that lazy, husky voice that always made her hot. He could damn near talk her to climax with that smooth-as-honey, turned-on Oklahoma-cowboy
voice. Put that voice, her and those handcuffs in the same room, and…

Some parts of her body turned hot and dry. Some were hot and damp enough to steam. “Let's not quibble over words. What are you willing to offer?”

“You can call Bailey and let her know you're all right, but I get to listen.”

So Shay had told him what she wanted, and he had figured out why. Neely couldn't even blame the other woman. She never should have asked for her help. “All right.”

“I'll give you the code to the alarm system. You can go out back, but you have to promise to keep the alarm on when you're inside and to stay alert when you're outside. If anyone—
anyone
—comes to the house while you're out there, you hustle your butt into the safe room and lock yourself inside, and you stay there until I get home.”

She nodded. “Shoes?”

“No. And don't ask Shay to loan you a pair. Her feet are smaller than yours.”

“Her everything is smaller than mine—except her breasts,” she replied dryly. “She's a breathtaking woman.” Then, after a beat, “Were you in love with her?”

For a long time he simply looked at her. Then he picked up his hat and gun belt, paused in the doorway long enough to say, “No,” then disappeared down the hall.

She followed, watching from the door as he unlocked the closet, set his hat on the shelf beside several others and pushed his gun belt out of sight on the tallest shelf. “That sounded like a guilty no.”

Still standing in the closet, he removed his uniform shirt, pulled off his T-shirt and unbuckled his belt. “There was nothing guilty about it. We were friends.”

“Who slept together.”

After a glance at her, he nudged the door shut. She sat primly on the side of the bed—what had once been
her
side of the bed—and waited. There were lots of family pictures in the living room, but the only photograph in the bedroom was
on the nightstand nearest her—a simple five-by-seven snapshot of Reese in his Royals uniform. It had been taken an hour before the game that had ended his career, and he looked so handsome. So invincible. She had the same photo on the desk in her office at home. She had dreamed about it, talked to it, cried over it, thrown it a few times and mostly used it, face-down, as a paperweight. She had asked for the picture when they'd started dating, and he'd had a copy made, put it in a beautiful sterling filigree frame and given it to her, and then they'd made love for the first time.

So long ago.

With a heavy sigh, she returned to the subject, raising her voice loud enough to be heard through the door. “So you were friends with Shay. You dated her. You slept with her. Presumably one or both of you hoped something more would develop. But you didn't love her.”

He came out of the closet, wearing jeans and nothing else. Her mouth went dry at the sight of so much warm tanned skin, such nicely defined muscles, such temptation. She swallowed hard and redirected her gaze.

He dropped his badge and brass nameplate on the dresser, then pulled on the white shirt he carried. He buttoned it, rolled the sleeves up his forearms and left the tails hanging out before facing her. “Would it matter to you if I did?”

If the man who'd sworn he would always love
her
had made the same vow to Shay? “Yes. It would.”

“Why? Why would you care?”

“I always cared. From the first time we met. We were in the courthouse and I tripped and you—”

“I remember the day we met, Neely. You were wearing a dress the color of cotton candy and shoes that looked like ballet slippers, and your hair was long and shiny and…” His tone lightened, as if he were smiling but his mouth wasn't cooperating. “And when you knelt to pick up your files, I could see down your dress. You weren't wearing a bra. Shay's breasts might be bigger than yours…but yours are perfect.”

The simple compliment brought her far more pleasure than
it merited. It warmed her already-heated blood and made her nipples tighten and pucker. Hoping her voice would be steady, she forced a carelessly amused smile. “So that's why you asked me out. If I'd known that was the way to get dates, I would have tried it on every attractive man in the city.”

He leaned against the dresser, hands beside his hips, ankles crossed. He looked wicked. Sexy. More addictive than all the chocolate in the world. “Were you looking for dates?”

“No.”

“Then what were you looking for?”

“Absolution. Oblivion. Freedom from the pain and the guilt.”

“And did you ever find it?”

“No. Judy's dead. She can't forgive me. You never will, and I can't forgive myself. I just have to live with it. It's not easy…” She stood, moved to the door, then looked back.

“But I'm learning.”

D
inner that evening was baked ham, a brown-rice-and-broccoli casserole and green beans from Mary Stephens's garden, followed by Reese's favorite dessert—plain white cake with plain vanilla frosting. He was loading the dishwasher while Neely cut the cake. When he finished, he asked, “You want to take dessert outside? If the bugs aren't bad, it should be nice.”

She was surprised but quick to agree. Handing him a plate with cake and a fork, she picked up her own dessert—vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce and sprinkled with chocolate kisses—and headed for the French door.

There was a nice breeze blowing, enough to keep the mosquitoes and gnats at bay. They settled in chairs that still held the day's heat and ate the sweets in silence. For the first time, though, it was almost companionable.

“Did you ever think, when you were a kid, that you'd wind up like this?” Her voice was soft, tantalizing. It slid along his skin and eased the tension in his muscles as surely as any massage could have—and, with the right words, it could just
as easily bring it back stronger than ever. Words such as
I want you, Reese.

Take me to bed.

Make love to me.

He had to clear his throat to speak. “Like this? You mean, a backwater sheriff in a redneck town?”

“
No.
Working as a sheriff, living back in your hometown, raising horses, living in a lovely house all your own, surrounded by trees, pasture and friends.”

He set his plate on the side table, then stretched out on the chaise longue, his gaze fixed on the stars. “I thought maybe I'd win a World Series, or be a cop or a cowboy. I thought I'd live in L.A. or Houston or Detroit, or maybe Texas, Montana or the Dakotas. I knew I'd have a house, some land and horses…but I never counted on being alone.”

“You could change that. There are a lot of women around.”

He didn't want a lot of women. Even when he'd had them, when he was playing ball, he hadn't wanted them.

Because he wanted Neely.

Aware that she was watching him—and grateful she couldn't see much in the dim light—he shrugged. “I don't want a woman just for the sake of having someone.” He wanted someone who mattered, who made his life better by being a part of it. Someone who was so important that she was irreplaceable. Someone so special that only she could be the mother of his children. Someone who wouldn't leave him.

Nine years ago he'd believed Neely met all those qualifications, and she hadn't left him.
He'd
abandoned
her.
Had they both suffered all this time because he'd been so terribly wrong in judging her? Or so terribly right?

“What about you?” he asked, pushing the unanswered questions out of his mind. “When you were little, what did you think you'd be?”

“A princess,” she answered without hesitation. “Daddy said I could grow up to be anything I wanted, so I wanted to be a princess and live in a castle and marry Prince Charming. Then he was sent to prison, and for a long time all I wanted
to be was someone else. Life was so hard without him. I needed his help, his support, his love. Then he was killed, and all I wanted was to survive. I loved him so much, Reese.”

“Why didn't you ever tell me about him before?”

This time it was her turn to shrug. “It hurt. And you never asked. I thought you weren't interested.”

“It would have helped explain so much…”

“Just accepting me the way I was would have helped, too. There's no denying that my father's life and death helped shape my opinions and beliefs, but regardless of how they were formed, they
are
my opinions and beliefs. I believe the concept of ‘justice for all' is a joke in this country. I believe everyone truly does have the right to a
fair
trial without regard for their ability to pay. If my father had had some hot-shot attorney, he never would have gone to prison and he would probably be alive today. Instead he had an overworked, underpaid, inexperienced public defender who really didn't much care whether he won or lost. He got paid the same either way. He went home to
his
wife and children either way.” When she stopped for a breath, she apparently noticed that Reese was grinning, because she petulantly said, “Don't laugh at me.”

“I'm not laughing. I was just thinking that everyone should feel that sort of passion about something.” He'd had it in varying degrees for the law, for baseball, but most especially for her—

“I was always that passionate about you.”

His grin faded into regret. “I'm sorry.”

She rose gracefully from the chair and walked to the deck railing, turning to face him in the full moonlight. It gleamed on her hair and gave her long, pale dress an otherworldly glow—made her look like an angel. “That I loved you? I'm not sorry. Never. But I am sorry that I lost you.”

For a time she stood there, face tilted to the sky, eyes closed, the faintest of smiles curving her mouth. Then, with a great breath, she pushed away from the rail. “I think I'm going to
read myself to sleep,” she said, touching his shoulder lightly as she passed. “Good night.”

He didn't repeat her “good night” until the door closed behind her. He stayed where he was a moment, then went to stand where she had stood. Though he knew it wasn't possible, he would have sworn he could still smell the delicate fragrance of her cologne in the air. But that was just wishful thinking. The breeze was blowing too steadily. The only ones out here smelling her cologne were the horses in the southeast pasture.

He turned to face the barn, his hands gripping the too-new-to-weather railing. How different would their lives have been if he'd accepted her the way she was—made good on his promises to love her and stay with her forever? He would have taken her away from Thomasville after the shooting, would have packed her away someplace safe where no one could ever hurt her again. He would have suffocated her with worry. Would have married her. Protected and pampered her. Made love to her. Made babies with her. Eventually he would have dealt with the fear of losing her. He would have been happy. He would have done his best to see that she was happy. And Eddie Forbes never would have known that she existed.

But the life he'd lived wasn't so bad, was it? Going to work, spending time with his family, caring for the horses, occasional relationships—nothing special. But not too bad, either. Just a little lonely. A little sad. A little less than he'd expected. A lot less than he'd hoped for.

Deciding he'd better find something else to occupy his thoughts before he talked himself into a bad mood, he went inside. He watched television, checked his e-mail and was grateful to hear the distant ring of the cell phone in the bedroom. It was Jace, calling from what sounded like a crowded bar. “How's it going, bubba?”

Reese wondered how his cousin would react if he told the truth—
I've been having erotic fantasies about your witness, and this afternoon I kissed her the way we used to kiss, the way that always ended in sex, and I can hardly think for want
ing her. And how are you?
He settled on a simpler version. “We're okay. How about you?”

“We've had better weeks. Remember I told you about the witness we mislaid? Somebody broke into her office over the weekend. Trashed it really good. As far as her secretary can tell, nothing's missing, but she says there wasn't anything of a personal nature there, anyway.”

“What do you think they were looking for?”

“Clues to where she's gone. But she's too smart to leave anything like that lying around.”

“You're sure about that?”

“Absolutely. So…what's going on with the Canyon County Sheriff's Department?”

Reese stretched out across the bed and opened the nightstand drawer while recounting Tommy Lee's adventures. Removing three frames from the drawer, he arranged them in a neat line on the floor beside the bed. Neely alone, with his father and Jace, and with him. She was so beautiful and looked so damn innocent, and Del was looking at her as if she was the daughter he'd always wanted.

His father had never looked at any other woman that way, Reese realized. Whenever Del had met the women in Reese's life, he'd always been polite, usually friendly, sometimes downright welcoming. But Neely was the only one he'd fallen so hard and fast for. Marriage had crossed Reese's mind only in a vague, sometime-in-the-distant-future sort of way until the meeting caught here on film, when Del had proudly commented, “That girl's going to give me smart, beautiful grandchildren.”

“You there, bubba?”

Reese blinked. “Yeah. I was just thinking…”

“About a pretty woman, I hope.”

“Actually, about Dad.” It was sort of true. “Did I tell you he's thinking about getting married again?”

“You're kidding. I hope this one's like Georgie. She certainly inspired a few fantasies in this young boy.”

“This one's a widow with a Mercedes, and that's all I know.”

“Usually Uncle Del talks more than that. Of course, you've got a good reason or two to be distracted.”

“I'm not—” Realizing he was stroking his fingertip over Neely's image in the photo where she was alone, he scowled, jerked his hand away and rolled onto his back.

Jace laughed. “I'll ask Mom about the widow. I'm sure she knows a lot more than you do.”

“I'm sure she does. If she ever wants to get paid for her ability to ferret out information, send her down to my office. I'd put her on the payroll in a heartbeat.”

“I'll tell her that. Take care of everything.”

“I will.” Catching himself by surprise, Reese blurted, “Hey, Jace… How important is that to you? That I take care of everything?”

“I don't think I understand the question, bubba.”

With a grimace, Reese closed his eyes and rubbed them with his free hand. He couldn't just come right out and ask what Jace's relationship was with Neely, whether there was anything more than friendship between them. It was highly doubtful that anyone was monitoring
his
calls, but Jace couldn't be so sure. Since Neely's case was his case, he could be under the scrutiny of both the good guys and the bad. “I—I was just wondering about…your interest…in…”

Jace laughed. “Hey, if I can get off for the Fourth, I'm coming down and bringing my girlfriend with me. She's a city girl, and is convinced that towns like Heartbreak don't really exist anymore. You can figure out what you want to ask me and ask it then.”

As he said goodbye, Reese was embarrassed to admit how relieved he felt. Not that a different answer would have made him want Neely any less. Knowing that she was involved with his cousin wouldn't stop him from taking anything she chose to offer. He wasn't proud of it, but there it was.

Now all he had to worry about was finding a way to stop wanting her long enough to fall asleep.

 

Sleep had come easier than Reese had expected. He showered the next morning and dressed for work, then walked into the living room to find Neely in her usual place, curled up in his chair. Usually he covered her, if she wasn't already covered, and left her there. That morning, because he wanted to, he scooped her into his arms, started toward the guest room, then made a U-turn and took her to his room. He laid her on his side of the bed, where the sheets still held a little of his warmth, tucked the covers around her, lowered and closed the blinds, then left the room and the house.

His first stop was the Heartbreak Café, where they were getting a slow start on a gray morning. Shay's husband Easy was among the few customers, sitting in the back booth with Guthrie Harris and Ethan James. Guthrie's girls, Emma and Elly, were spinning on stools at the counter.

Though Ethan held two-month-old Annie Grace, there was no sign of her mother. Reese was a bit disappointed. If the powers that be had offered him a kid sister, Grace would have been his choice. She was sweet, shy and innocent as hell—or, at least, she had been until she'd gotten mixed up with Ethan. Reese had thought the most disreputable son with the most dishonorable family name in the county was
not
a good choice, but Ethan had turned himself inside out for her and their baby. Reese wasn't a hundred percent sure he trusted the transformation, but Grace was, and that was all that mattered.

“Hey, Mr. Sheriff Reese!” Elly Harris jumped off the stool and landed in front of him with a flourish. “Shoot any outlaws lately?”

“No, ma'am,” he replied, lifting her into his arms, then taking a seat on her vacated stool. “You know, that blood all over the place gets messy, so I try not to shoot 'em unless I have to.”

Beside him Emma giggled. “You don't shoot 'em 'cause there aren't any outlaws around here.”

“Hmm. You think that's why I haven't seen any lately?”

She nodded wide-eyed before going back to her breakfast.

The two girls were identical twins—so identical physically that Reese doubted even their parents could tell them apart. But everyone in town knew Elly was the tomboy, tough and sturdy and able to stand up to anyone on her own, while Emma was delicate, sensitive and—Elly's favorite word—prissy. Elly had a style all her own—today she was wearing red cowboy boots, purple jeans, a lime-green shirt and a cowboy hat cinched under her chin—while Emma was the perfect little girly girl. She wore a dress this morning, like something Neely would wear, with pink sandals, a pink bracelet and a straw hat, very much like Neely's, circled with a broad pink ribbon that tied in a bow in back.

She made him ache dead center in his chest.

He forced his attention from her to their dishes. “What are you having for breakfast? Pie and ice cream? I can tell your mom's not here.”

“She's home with Taylor 'cause he's got the sniffles,” Emma said of her baby brother. “But it's a good breakfast. Ice cream's made from milk, you know, and growing bones need milk.”