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I Shocked The Sheriff
Mara Fox


When Roxy Adams shows up in her bright yellow Porsche, Sheriff Luke Hermann knows he and his small Texas town will never be the same. Within twenty-four hours he's pulled her out of a catfight, almost hauled her off to jail and spent the most incredible moments of his life in her bed.But Luke knows she'll love him and leave him soon enough. Still, before she does, he intends to make sure she'll miss being held in the long arms of a lawman….Roxy figures the scrumptious sheriff thinks she's some spoiled city girl looking for attention. But in truth, she left Dallas to stay out of trouble. She's staying in town just until she's strong enough to move on. In the meantime, though, she's sure enjoying the scenery.… Only, the closer she gets to Luke, the more she can't bear to leave. Little does she guess her past is about to catch up with her….









“I can’t think when you’re lying there naked.”


Despite the sheet covering her, apparently Luke could tell she wore no nightgown. Well, if the lawman had a problem with that, Roxy had the solution. “So take off your clothes and join me. You can show me your gun.” She giggled.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He shifted on his feet where he stood near the motel-room door.

She stretched on the bed provocatively, sticking her legs out from under the sheet.

He put his hand up to his forehead. “You’re a dangerous woman.”

“So come and give me a ticket.”

“For what?” he said, his voice tight.

She lowered the sheet from her shoulders toward her breasts. His eyes followed. It was as if with those deep brown eyes he touched each inch she revealed. “Indecent exposure.”

He swallowed. “Actually, I think I’m going to have to take you into protective custody.”

“Who will you be protecting me from?”

“Me.”


Dear Reader,

I’m so excited to introduce my first book. For me it’s both a happy ending and an exciting beginning. When I was writing Roxy’s story I knew a flawed yet feisty heroine might be a difficult sell. Fortunately, my editor saw the appeal of a character with a past. Roxy may be a bad girl, but she’s got a vulnerable heart.

Roxy comes from Dallas and she’s got it all—a trust fund with all the trappings. Raised by a staff of servants trying to mold a little redheaded girl into a debutante, she discovered that every act of rebellion got her the attention she craved. As a result, Roxy doesn’t hesitate to do anything that occurs to her and damn the consequences. She’s been down, but she’s never been out. And she’s never been in love.

Sheriff Luke Hermann loves his west Texas town. These are his people, and he’s always been able to anticipate trouble—until a long-legged gal drives her screaming yellow Porsche right into his heart….

I hope you enjoy this view of my home state of Texas. It would be so exciting to hear from you! You can write to me c/o Harlequin Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

Here’s to your own happy ending,

Mara Fox


I Shocked the Sheriff

Mara Fox






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


I dedicate this book to my own hero, Mark Horstman, who, once upon a time in Hawaii, sold his surfboards to buy a diamond ring….




Contents


Chapter 1 (#u17c9fd6d-4f86-5d04-a195-02835ccff98e)

Chapter 2 (#uf429085b-766d-5699-9dfb-6b7715b2a36e)

Chapter 3 (#ud98c98e4-5f5a-5f4c-8d33-96c9105bcfcb)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)




1


ROXANNE ADAMS RAN her dry tongue over parched lips. “Damn. I’ve done it again.”

“Ohh,” she said as she raised her head and then rotated her neck. She grabbed the steering wheel in a punishing grip. The smell of vanilla car freshener filled her senses.

This time I’m safe in the Porsche.

Wearily she rested her head on the top edge of the steering wheel. She didn’t want to replay the episode from so long ago, but the nightmare scene from her last binge boiled over. The drunken man had lifted his head to tell her what a pretty girl she was. Naked, she’d looked up into his filthy face and had seen a mirror of what she’d become.

That vision kept her sober. That vision, the twelve steps, and all her friends from AA. It’d been over two years.

I can handle this. I can. I have to.

Tears moistened her gritty eyes. Sure, cry, you ninny, she told herself as she rubbed them. But Joey’s hanging on. He might have tried to kill himself, but he’s gonna get a second chance whether he wants to or not and this time he’ll make it.

Roxy groaned, then lifted her head from the steering wheel. She knew if she looked in the mirror there’d be a funny circle imprint on her forehead. It had happened before, more times than she cared to count. Sometimes she’d still been drunk and it had seemed funny, but not today.

Today, she was sober. She felt a cautious sense of elation.

Knocking on the window got her attention. She looked over into the condemning eyes of a man in a familiar uniform. That must have been what had awakened her. Why, oh why, had she driven out here?

But she knew. Driving out here had saved her.

“Open your door, please. I won’t ask you again.”

What was he going to do about it? Shoot out the windows? Drag her out of the car by her hair? The Porsche was legally registered in her name, a gift of love from her father for staying sober for a whole year. She’d tell this big, bad cop a thing or two…respectfully, of course.

No sense in ending up in a hick holding tank for sassing the local law. No matter how desperate her high school was for teachers, they’d fire her in a heartbeat if they found out she’d spent her summer vacation in a West Texas jail.

Funny, how the youngest person in her AA group had inspired her to use her degree to teach and mentor at the high school. Finding a purpose had helped her to stay sober, and watching over kids who had it rougher made her appreciate her life.

She grinned at the irony, relishing even this nowhere place and this nobody cop who’d come to rescue her. Wallowing in the sheer relief of being sober.

Roxy unlocked the car doors.

“Step out of the car slowly.”

She pushed herself away from the steering wheel. It didn’t do any good to argue with certain types of cops—his kind of cop. She could tell by the look in his frigid brown eyes.

Still sitting, facing forward, she put one tentative foot outside, grateful for the firmness of the ground and the rustle of dry grass beneath her sandal as a familiar wave of dizziness washed over her.

She breathed deeply, filling her lungs several times before she noticed him shifting in apparent frustration. “I’m sorry, officer. I’m unsteady this morning. Forgot my medication. Ran out of gas. An all-around unhappy morning.”

Roxy’s tone wasn’t flip, but it wasn’t placating, she didn’t have placating in her soul, no matter how many spectacular mistakes she’d made.

He looked her over as if she were roadkill. He’d likely found less pleasant company on the side of the road, but she guessed he wouldn’t admit it. She ran her tongue over her teeth. She hadn’t brushed them, but she hadn’t been drinking, either. Lucky for him, my breath won’t be too toxic.

“You think you could pass a Breathalyzer?” he asked.

Of course, a sheriff from Hicksville would assume the worst. She slung the other leg around the edge of the seat. There she sat facing him, feet on the ground, grass tickling her calves. She resisted the urge to tug on her very short shorts. It would just draw attention to her naked thighs. Out here, anyone not wearing jeans and cowboy boots probably ended up arrested for indecent exposure.

“I haven’t been drinking.” She tried on a smile. Flipped a hunk of hair over her shoulder. Let him think whatever he wanted to just as long as he gave her a lift to the nearest gas station with a rest room.

He looked her over. “What kind of medicine?”

He’d obviously been paying attention to more than her lank red hair and the circles under her eyes. Score one for the policeman. “Do you have any orange juice? I’m worried about my blood sugar.”

“Are you claiming to be diabetic?” He sounded skeptical.

“I’m borderline diabetic. And I’m out of gas. So I guess I’m going to be riding with you. If you’ll help me to my feet we can start for town.” Then she remembered. “If there’s a town in this godforsaken place.”

“You don’t even know where you are? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to run out of gas in West Texas in the middle of the hottest summer on record? In a few hours you’d be cookin’ in that car and there’s no shade and no water for quite a ways.”

She grimaced up at him. This was familiar territory. All cops liked to give lectures. “Actually, I drove all this way just so I could try my hand at hitchhiking along a desert highway in the middle of summer.” She brushed her hair back again. “And I think it’s unkind of you to deprive me of that scintillating experience.”

“That fancy word tells me that you’re educated, but you’re not very smart. You could have died of heat prostration out here.”

Roxy licked her dry lips, imagining being stuck here even more thirsty than she already was. “I guess I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

She was telling the truth. Her longtime friend Joey had attempted suicide after being dry for six months. The shock had hit her hard and fast. And the five-year-old memory of finding her brother, overdosed on Ecstasy, had followed on its tail, kicking her in the teeth like it was yesterday. She’d felt brittle, an urge away from tumbling headfirst off the wagon.

Instead Roxy had grabbed her keys, driving the loneliest stretches of roads she could find. Anything to avoid the neon lure of civilization and alcohol.

“Ma’am, I need to see your identification. Where’re you from?”

“I’m from Dallas. I have my driver’s license here somewhere.” She reached around to look for her purse and found it wasn’t under the seat where she usually stowed it. She looked in the back seat and didn’t see it there. In fact the car looked decidedly bare. In her rush to get away she hadn’t brought her purse, her phone, or anything else.

“Gosh, darn it!” Swearing was not allowed at school and she cringed at the sound of her silly exclamation. Too bad it doesn’t go with his image of me as a lowlife. She would have enjoy harassing this hick, if not for her hard-won job.

Roxy turned back and put her feet on the ground again. The fresh air smelled good, but now she caught the faintest scent of warming asphalt. Add lots of exhaust and it’d be just like home. Roxy looked up at him and shrugged. “Sorry, no purse.”

“Miss Dallas, you’ve got no straight answers and no identification?”

“I’m full of straight answers. You just haven’t asked me the right questions.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. Do you usually drive without your license?”

She shrugged. “I was slightly upset when I left home.” Understatement of the century. “I forgot it.”

“You don’t leave me with any choice. I’ll have to run you into Red Wing and you can sit at the station until we get some confirmation of who you are.”

“Red Wing?”

“It’s a town about ten miles from here. You’re lucky I had business out at Pete’s place or you’d have been in a world of hurt. This is a lonely stretch of road.”

“Do they have gas pumps and orange juice in Red Wing?”

He nodded.

Roxy didn’t know why she bothered being sarcastic. He didn’t even notice. It was almost as irritating as his cop attitude. Because he sure was a handsome man under that uniform, with a body good enough to wake her slumbering hormones.

Down, girl. She’d always been a sucker for broad shoulders and a tight little bottom, but the tight-ass attitude belonged to a cop. It’s not hormones. It’s just my blood sugar.

“I’ll need your keys so I can lock the car.” He looked at her expectantly. It took a minute, but she soon realized he meant for her to get up. She knew she’d never make it to her feet so she held out one hand. “If you don’t want to haul my butt out of the grass you’d better help me up. I’m dizzy as all get out.”

He took her hand as if it were the last thing he wanted to do. He sure was tall. Once she stood up she had to tilt her head back to look up into his face.

“Thank you.” She said it rather reluctantly since it felt like he’d rather be hauling a carcass off of the road.

He didn’t seem to notice her attitude for which she was famous. Roxy handed him the keys with a grimace. Be smart, girl. Don’t challenge him. He’s not worth getting fired over.

He nodded, putting the keys in his pocket and one hand on her arm. She tried to pull away, but it only made her more dizzy so she accepted his touch while doing her best to ignore the zing that had all her nerves humming. He walked her to his car as if she were an old woman, towering over her despite her height and the two-inch heels on her sandals.

His impersonal attitude didn’t upset her, she told herself. She didn’t care if the gorgeous cop from Hicksville saw her as a stray and not as a woman. He probably had a wife and six children back at the ranch.

The only thing that mattered was that she’d done it. Stayed sober despite extreme provocation. It proved…well, it didn’t prove anything. Twenty-six years old and she’d still run, still hadn’t been strong enough. Over two years sober and she was still afraid.

Terrified.

So I’ll just keep fighting it the way I have been—one day at a time. And today’s a good day, another day clean. She hummed a little ditty on the way to the police car.

SHERIFF LUKE HERMANN started his car and then pulled out from behind the eye-popping-yellow Porsche. That was a custom paint job if he’d ever seen one. The car was a beaut and so was the woman.

He didn’t say anything else to the redheaded woman he’d dubbed Miss Dallas. And not because he was usually tongue-tied around beautiful women. No, this woman didn’t count because he was working, and a woman who’d slept in her car should be decidedly unattractive, not long, lean, and lethal.

Luke shook his head.

He couldn’t be sure to what extent she’d broken the law, besides not having her driver’s license with her. He would soon find out.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

Her voice sounded like she’d been chewing gravel or chain smoking for forty years and she didn’t look a day over thirty.

He glanced at her. She gave him an affected smile that told him she didn’t like cops any more than he liked her. Luke knew she had an attitude a mile wide under her carefully chosen words.

“My name’s Sheriff Hermann.”

She just nodded and sat silently. Then she leaned back and appeared to go to sleep. His own disappointment startled him. He’d wondered what she might say next. She looked to be full of surprises.

Usually he didn’t like surprises. That’s why he’d come back to the town he’d grown up in. He knew everyone, their family histories, and their propensity for breaking or bending the law. Usually trouble was a long time brewing and he could anticipate it, prevent it.

Sometimes.

He wasn’t a hero, but he protected his own.

So how come the tall gal didn’t rouse his protective instincts? Her sassy mouth and all that red hair hit him in a more visceral spot. Easy, boy. You don’t usually do your thinking with your balls.

She stirred, apparently not asleep after all. “I’ll need your name.” He shouldn’t bother asking—without proper identification she probably wouldn’t give him her real name. But it was worth a shot.

“I’m Roxy, Roxanne Adams.”

He nodded. Under any other circumstances he might be saying “pleased to meet you,” and meaning it.

“You’re a woman of few words, Miss Adams.”

“Uh-huh.”

He shook his head. He hadn’t a clue what to do with her. “You feeling okay?”

She rolled her head toward him on the seat. For the first time he noticed her eyes were blue. As deep and blue as the creek on his fishing property down in Comstock. The whites were clear. It didn’t look as if she was recovering from a binge or coming off of a drug high. And she hadn’t stolen the car.

This woman fit that car perfectly.

“I’m okay.” She turned away from him, slouching deep into the seat, and wedged one knee on the glove compartment.

Luke sneaked a look at her legs. Lord, they went on for a good ways. He didn’t even give her heck about putting her knee on his dash. His mouth went dry and he longed to reach for a Dr. Pepper from his stash behind the seat. Tapping on the steering wheel, he wondered how such a tall gal fit those legs into that little car.

While Luke subtly watched her, she dropped into sleep. Roxanne Adams fell asleep as easily as a child, like she had an off switch. She had a fine body to go along with those long legs. He was chagrined that he noticed the way her seat belt hugged her high, rounded breasts.

She’s trouble. Because he was thinking about her all wrong. But she isn’t the kind of trouble I have to worry about. I’ll just drop her off at the clinic and she can be someone else’s problem. He pulled his eyes away from her and tried to focus on the road. But every time she gave a little sigh he felt it tug at something deep inside.

He hated misjudging people. And lately Luke had begun to wonder if the job was hardening him. Here he was treating this woman as if she’d done something wrong, because she stirred him. What was he supposed to do with a woman who talked hard but slept like a defenseless child with her hair curling around her face?

He pulled into the small clinic, which served the town in emergencies. Then he gently shook her awake. The pallor of her skin made a sprinkle of golden freckles stand out like bits of brown sugar all across her nose.

He watched the dawning awareness in her eyes with regret. For a moment she’d been sleepy—vulnerable. Then she recognized him and her expression hardened. She had been in trouble before. He’d let those long legs distract him. He should have been angry that he’d given her the benefit of the doubt; instead it made him curious.

Roxanne blinked and sat up. She looked out the car window. “Oh, shi…shoot. A clinic. The only thing worse than a clinic is the police station.”

“Seen your share of holding pens?” he asked.

She swung her head in his direction. A hint of a smile lurking around her mouth. “Not for a long time. What gave me away?”

“I’ve seen your type before.”

She turned away. “That’s the problem with cops’ types. They can’t see past the stereotypes to the person.”

Luke didn’t acknowledge the direct hit to his ego. He always tried to be fair, but after years in law enforcement, the criminals wore you down. You trusted your instincts less and your experience more, and because he didn’t want her to be a criminal, he’d broken all of his own rules.

“Nothin’ you want to say?” she asked, rubbing her hand over her face.

That childlike gesture made him wonder. He shored up his cynicism and shook his head.

“I should call my father. He’ll be worried.”

“Miss Adams, I’ll help you get in touch with your father once we’re inside.” Let the doc have her. He’ll tell me if she’s got a medical problem or a habit.

She nodded. “Probably a good idea to deal with my blood sugar first so I’m coherent when I call him, otherwise he’ll be on his plane in a heartbeat.”

He wondered what it would be like to have a private plane at your disposal. Was being rich what made her so sassy?

“Then I guess we’re going in. Is it going to be a needle?” She rubbed her arm as if already feeling the sting.

“A test.”

“A drug test?” Her eyebrow arched above her eye.

Her eyebrow matched the shade of her hair. He would have expected her to be a fake. But it seemed that her vibrant hair color was natural. “A blood sugar test.”

She rewarded him with a perfect smile that hit him in the gut like a fist. “Fancy that, a blood sugar test. I figured ya’ll still used horse piss and leeches.”

He turned away, busying himself with opening his door, determined she wasn’t going to get a rise out of him. He looked over when he heard the opposite door open.

She stepped out on her side but once on the sidewalk she swayed like tall grass in a storm. He stepped around the front of his vehicle and when he reached her side he grasped her shoulders with his hands. “I’ve got ya.”

Roxanne Adams tried to step away from him. “The hell you do. I can walk into the clinic. I’ll just tell my body I’ll reward it with orange juice if it walks just those few steps. You do have orange juice?”

Luke squashed his appreciation of her grit and the lust those long, lean curves inspired. She needed him. “I insist on helping you. I don’t want you to sue Doc Peterson if you land on the sidewalk on your head.”

“Really, Officer, I’m fine,” she protested, literally trying to stand her ground.

He just propelled her along, one of the benefits of being taller and stronger than even the tallest of the fair sex. “I’ll help you. We wouldn’t want you to fall down and get bruises. You might claim police brutality was involved.”

“Brutality? Like your grip on me? Are you afraid I’ll go running off and get lost in the crowds?” She gestured toward the almost empty street where Mrs. Henderson walked her ancient dog and three kids rode bikes.

He grinned and loosened his grip just a little.

She smiled back easily enough. So why did he get the impression those smiles were a rare occurrence?

“I’d never claim you’d been anything other than downright decent…for a cop.”

Luke’s experience said she wasn’t someone he should stick his neck out for, yet his instincts said otherwise. And his body clamored. But Roxanne Adams was trouble any way you looked at her. And he had to consider Carla, his longtime girlfriend.

Suddenly Roxy went limp in his arms. An unusual sense of alarm thrummed through him. He’d been tested in many different kinds of situations, but this felt different. He gently scooped her up and carried her into the clinic, wishing he knew what kind of trouble they were headed for.

“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?” Her voice couldn’t sustain the intended irascibility. But her eyes burned at him.

He wondered how her parents slept at night worrying about her. He hadn’t been able to squash his unease while waiting to discover what was wrong with her and it had made him testy. “I think I’m lookin’ at roadkill.”

“Such a nice sentiment. Are all country boys so poetic?”

She thinks I’m a hick. That should ease the ache in my loins.

Yet he wondered. Why was he in this hick town? Suddenly he could see it through her eyes and he wondered if it was small-town inertia holding him in Red Wing. The reassurance of familiar places and people. I really need to see Carla. He’d been going out with his lady for several years, and today he couldn’t remember the fragrance of her perfume.

And yet, all day he’d been remembering the smell of the vanilla air freshener in the Porsche. “Well, Miss Dallas, us hicks managed to patch you up without the leeches and horse piss.”

“Patch me up? Is that what you call it?”

“I take it you’re not feeling much better.”

She widened her eyes. “I guess not.”

“When was the last time you stopped for something to drink? You were really dehydrated. They gave you a shot big enough for a horse.”

“That’s probably all they have in this one-horse town.”

He shook his head. “Not really a big shot. Just the IV in your arm for a couple of hours. You were conscious, talking, but sleepy. Don’t you remember?”

She pushed her hair off of her face. “I remember the doctor talking to me but not much he said. I sleep like a dead person.”

“You were pretty out of it.”

“Did you wait so you could take me down to the station when I woke up? Are you desperate for company? Can’t be too many women in this town under eighty.”

“Is there any reason for me to take you down to the station?” He looked at her intently. “You got anything you want to confess?”

“You’ve got a sense of humor like a mortician. Come to think of it I do remember having nightmares. I think you featured in a few of them.”

As if to prove her wrong, he gave her a charming smile. “I just stuck around to make sure you didn’t cause any trouble.”

“Ah, Farmer John is concerned about everyone but the unfortunate woman stranded on the side of the road because of a medical condition. Your sympathy is astounding.” She struggled to sit up, clutching the neck of the hospital gown choking her. These stupid things had all the material up-front.

He put out his hands like he was trying to turn a stampeding horse. “Whoa. You best lie back down. I don’t think the good doctor is ready for you to be getting up.” His hands hung in the air just above her chest as if he were afraid she might be contagious.

“I gotta pee, Farmer John, and there ain’t no way I’m gonna let them hook me up to any catheter. Those things hurt like hell.” She grabbed the railing, pulling herself to a sitting position.

He took a step back.

She finally made it to her feet.

Then she grimaced. Easy does it. But she wouldn’t make it if the floor didn’t stay in one place. She muttered a mild expletive under her breath. Wouldn’t want to shock the sheriff.

He didn’t say anything. In fact his silence seemed almost strained. She took two leg-shaking, strength-rattling steps and then she looked back over her shoulder.

His gaze was riveted on her naked hind end.

She gave him a faint smile and a salute, which had him blushing the color of a police light. Apparently he didn’t like being caught in the act. Too bad he couldn’t give her a ticket for indecent exposure.

The door to her room slammed shut as the sheriff made his getaway.

She waddled the remaining steps to the bathroom. Nothing like a man with his mouth hanging open to give a woman a boost.




2


“WHAT WAS TED DOING IN HERE?” Sheriff Hermann gestured toward the man who’d just walked out of her room with a clipboard.

“He’s desperately in love with me, but he’s really not my type.” Roxy smiled as she finished slipping into her sandals. The way the sheriff had run out on her she’d have bet quite a sum on him never coming back. Seemed he had more gumption than she’d given him credit for, or maybe he was interested in seeing her hind end again.

“I guess you’re feeling better. You want to tell me what Ted wanted or do I have to go and ask him?”

She sighed. Was he always so impatient? “He’s the checkout committee. I’m releasing myself and they don’t want to be responsible.”

He didn’t look at her. Instead he seemed to be focusing on the insipid wallpaper above her head. “I heard you made quite a fuss.”

Fuss was her middle name. When her governess had tried to mold her into being a debutante destined for an advantageous marriage, she’d rebelled, doing and saying most anything that occurred to her.

“Have you come to take me to the police station, Farmer John?” Her voice sounded just as steady and offhanded as she wanted it to. Let him think he intimidated her by hanging around with his uniform buttoned up tight enough to choke him. “Is it a crime to want to avoid spending the night in a hospital?”

He put a hand up to his badge. “They usually just release people when they’re ready. It’s not really a hospital, just a clinic. But they’ve got to be careful with out-of-town folks.”

“You just can’t trust anyone these days,” she told him flippantly.

“The doc was trying to do you a favor, Miss Dallas.” The sheriff looked at her earnestly. “You weren’t clearheaded enough to wire for money until after the bank closed. Where’re you planning to sleep?”

“Are you taking me to the station or not?” Roxy demanded.

He’d looked at her insurance card when they’d gone out to get her car. Her legal papers had been in the glove compartment and up-to-date. He’d found nothing illegal. “How many times are you going to ask me? You didn’t break any laws. You just got sick. The doc said that between the dehydration and the low blood sugar you probably weren’t thinking too clearly.”

“You reckon?” Sarcasm all but dripped from her tongue.

He didn’t seem to notice. “So there’s no reason to take you to the station.”

She surged to her feet. “Darn right.”

“I just thought I’d come by and see if you need a ride to the Cozy Daze Motel. You can get a clean room until you’re ready to leave town.”

She took a couple of steps closer to him. He had great shoulders, great chest but too much cop attitude.

Still, it was fun to rile him, or have him blushing like a choir boy over a little flesh. And she definitely felt better. “You in a hurry to see me leave town? You don’t want me to stick around and see the…sights?”

“I think you’ll be on your way home real soon. But I realize you don’t have your purse with you. I thought I could help you if you need some funds.”

“Funds? Ain’t that a bit formal?” She sidled right up next to him, rolling her hips as she walked. “You offering me bed and board?”

His cheeks pinkened. “I’m offering you a loan until you get some money from home.”

“How am I gonna get some money? I don’t even have a credit card or a check.” She leaned in closer.

He nodded. “I’ll help you.”

“Why?” She touched the top button on his uniform.

He stepped back from her as if her touch burned him. “I figure you need a hand. You don’t know anyone in town.”

“I don’t know you. And this morning you looked at me as if I were slime crawling out from under a rock. Now you’re just dying to send me back me to where I belong. Am I so dangerous?”

“I didn’t look at you as if you were slime. I didn’t want you to die in the heat. It was one-hundred-thirteen degrees out there today. I was doing my job.”

She took the step he’d put between them. This time his lips tightened, yet he stood his ground. She smiled. She reached up and touched a bead of sweat on his brow. His dark hair waved temptingly just above where she touched him. She took a deep breath. He smelled like sweat and something else. Something manly. “I guess it’s…hot.”

He didn’t budge, even when she rubbed her bare leg against his trouser leg. But he licked his lips. His nostrils flared as if he was catching her scent, as well. “It’s hot all right.”

She hoped he couldn’t feel her leg trembling. She hadn’t felt the flare of honest desire in a long time. Hadn’t allowed herself to stray off course. A course chosen for self-preservation. Seemed he might be more dangerous to her than she to him.

“You saved me….” This time her voice shook. He threw her off balance. Made her feel things.

“I was just doing my job.” It came out husky. His eyes slid down the length of her body.

She abruptly pulled away. She didn’t need the distraction of an affair right now. She needed to get her head on straight. “Your job’s done, Farmer John. Don’t worry about me. I put in a call to my father. He’s going to wire money and some paperwork to the Goat Herder’s Bank of West Texas. I’ll be moving along before I can infect your town with my evil ways.”

“It’s Ranchers Security Bank.” He sounded angry.

She went to the side of the bed and collected her sunglasses. “Yeah? I’ll remember that when I go looking for the right bank. This town probably has a slew of banks to choose from. I’ll bet you folks even got a Wal-Mart and a laundry called Duds and Suds, or something equally charming.”

“At least we don’t have to send for Daddy’s money to bail us out when we’re irresponsible.” His voice sounded mild. “And we don’t have a Wal-Mart.”

It took her a moment to feel the sting.

“I guess you never had to call Daddy to bail you out of trouble.”

“Not since I was fifteen years old.”

“Yeah? Well I’m not so perfect. In fact I’m amazingly full of flaws. You name the mistake and I’ve made it. My dad might be a very busy lawyer, but these days he makes me a priority. Even if I need bailing out like a fifteen-year-old.”

“He must have some patience.”

She remembered how her father would set her on his lap when she’d been in trouble, and patiently explain why she was supposed to listen to her governess. “He does.”

“Then you shouldn’t go out of your way to worry him.”

Roxy smiled. Worrying her father had been the only way to get his attention back in those days. “I didn’t do it on purpose.” At least not this time. “And I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry about anything. Your little ole town is safe from big bad me. I have no intention of staying more than a day or two.”

“Good. I don’t know if Red Wing can stand the excitement. But I’ll drive you over to the Cozy Daze.”

“That’s okay. Apparently my car’s at Larry’s gas station, right down the street. I’m grateful you had it towed into town. I’ll just walk over there and get it.”

“It’s hot out there.”

“I’m from Dallas. It’s hot there, too.”

“It’s still over ninety degrees.”

She looked at him in honest surprise. “Really? I thought it’d be cooler.”

“My tires sucked at the road as I drove in—asphalt’s still oozy from the heat.”

“Find anything interesting out there? Coyotes, scorpions, stranded women?”

“Nope. You’re the only one today. Do you want a ride or not?”

“I guess so.” She ran her hands over the front of her shorts. Why did she suddenly feel so vulnerable? Was it because she didn’t want to rely on anyone? Especially not him? “What day of the week is it?” She tugged on a long lock of hair hanging over her shoulder. Let him scoff about her disorientation. She’d fillet him.

Farmer John didn’t scoff. “It’s Thursday. The bank will be open first thing in the morning.”

She smiled faintly. What would he say if he knew how many times she’d lost track of the date? Whole weeks had disappeared in an alcoholic stupor. If he knew he’d walk away from her in disgust.

Without another word he turned and walked out of the room. She followed. The two people on duty ignored them as they went by. It didn’t surprise her. It was unlikely she was the only one who’d objected to spending the night. If Farmer John was any indication, they grew them hardheaded in this part of the county.

He opened the door of the cruiser for her and held it open like he was escorting her on a date. She couldn’t help but smile at him. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome, Miss Adams.”

She settled herself amongst all the technology, radios and other cop things. Then, when he sat down beside her she admonished him. “Call me Roxy.”

He shook his head.

“Do you prefer Farmer John or do you intend to be formal? Didn’t your parents give you a first name?”

“I’m always professional when I’m doing my job,” he said, ignoring the rest of her comment.

“I thought you were doing me a favor. It’s after hours. Or are you checking up on me? Did you put my name on the list or something?” Her voice rose.

“No, this is just a favor to someone from out of town. I didn’t do a records search on you, because you didn’t break the law. However, right this moment you don’t have a car or any money, so I thought you might accept a helping hand. Graciously.”

“You expect me to be gracious when you won’t even tell me your name?” She turned away tugging on her hair, unwilling to show her relief that he didn’t know about her record. Even though it wasn’t much more than a couple of drunk and disorderly charges. Drunks were usually content to hurt themselves and her daddy had enough money to smooth her way.

“My name’s Luke.”

Grateful, she turned from those ugly memories and smiled at him. “See, Luke, that wasn’t so hard.”

“Are you always like this?”

Roxy put a hand to her heart with a dramatic flourish. “Oh, my goodness, he told me his name,” she teased him. “His reputation as a hard-hearted sheriff’s ruined forever.”

He flushed again.

His ability to flush might be endearing, but she wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. “I might have to rent some space on a billboard. I’ll tell the town what a marshmallow you really are.”

“You’d have trouble finding a spare billboard in this town.”

Luke looked downright human when he fought a grin, which was good enough for her.

She turned to study the town. The buildings around them were a hodgepodge of materials and styles, some were stucco and others brick. A few stood vacant with boards where the windows would have been. Others appeared to be closed up for the night. She spotted a convenience store and a restaurant with a line of trucks in the parking lot.

She guessed the taverns must be out of the city limits. There were no neon cocktails flashing on the side of the road. She remembered Joey with a jolt of pain. It was just as well the taverns were out of reach.

“You people really do roll up the streets at sundown.”

“We like it quiet.”

He turned west and the sky was on fire with the setting sun. She sucked in her breath at the glory of it. “It’s magnificent.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty. With no skyscrapers or trees to block the sky you can literally see for miles. This part of the country is known for its big skies. Just wait till the stars come out.”

He pulled into a small motel.

A small thrill of alarm swept through her. “I figured we’d go and get my car.” She pulled a piece of hair around to rub against her cheek.

“I’ll deliver it tomorrow. You look tired.”

“I’m not tired. I slept all day.” She put her hand up to cover the yawn that threatened to give her away. “I feel naked without my car.”

Roxy couldn’t see if he was blushing again, or if it was the light from the sunset coloring his face. She hated this mushy, vulnerable feeling. Who was he? Why did he make her feel as if he could cleanse her tarnished soul with his innocence?

The ability to blush is no indication of innocence. He’s probably had his share of binges and women. Get a hold of yourself. You’re just tired and sick.

She flinched when he reached over as if to touch her face. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I can tell you’re not feeling great.”

“How?”

“Your freckles get darker when you’re feeling poorly.”

She covered her nose. “It’s not polite to point out a woman’s flaws. I don’t have any makeup with me.”

He grinned. “You don’t need any makeup.”

It went straight to her gut.

He left her sitting with her mouth open when he got out of the car. Slowly she followed him, wondering what had just happened. Did Sheriff Luke Hermann have a soft spot for women with freckles?

Luke went into the lobby of the motel. Through the window she could see him conversing with an older man. Rubbing her hands on the front pockets of her shorts, Roxy turned to watch the fading glory of the sunset.

It felt strange to be sober and still have no resources. She didn’t want to rely on Luke, or anyone. Once she checked out of the clinic, she’d planned to turn off on a side road and sleep in her car. She just couldn’t spend the night in the clinic. The smell of the place brought back some really bad memories.

I can pay him tomorrow when the money comes. She didn’t suppose she had any choice. And if he’d found her in her car tomorrow he might have done that records search after all. She didn’t know if she could have faced him if he’d discovered she’d been hauled into jail.

Mostly to dry out. But no decent person could understand the life she’d led before. Especially not Farmer John.

He’d never understand the struggle she faced daily, taking her life a day at a time. He was far too perfect to understand someone as flawed as her. Even if he liked freckles.

“Lloyd put you in room fourteen. He says you can use the pool anytime. Just use your key to open the privacy gate.”

Grateful to have her back to him, Roxy regained her composure. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep.” She finally turned to face him. He stood, illuminated in the fading light. Her own eyes were full of shadows.

“It’s over here, near the end. He only has the fifteen units. There’s a pool beside the last one.”

She followed him down a sidewalk lined with cactus. She watched his buttocks move beneath his pants as he strode along on those long masculine legs of his. Watch it, girl! Those attributes just happen to belong to a cop.

They passed three cars lined up outside the doors. A neon sign above them flashing a dancing cactus in verdant green lent the building an unearthly quality.

As Roxy brushed past the sheriff to look beyond the end of the building, she ignored the tingle of awareness and the heat coming off of him. The huge neon sign sat primarily above the fenced pool area. She couldn’t see the pool for the high privacy fence shielding it from the highway.

She looked back over her shoulder and gestured toward the sign. “I’ll bet all that neon gives the pool some interesting ambience. How far are we from Roswell?”

Luke stood stubbornly in front of the room. “That sign can be seen for miles and miles. It’s probably a godsend for travelers who think there’s not another town till El Paso.”

“There isn’t. This place doesn’t qualify as a real town.” Roxy headed back.

“You should be grateful there’s a town. You’d be coyote bait if I hadn’t found you.”

She didn’t look back. She just stood at the door of room fourteen. She wondered if she should invite him in and then throw him out. It was a tempting thought. He needed to be taken down a few pegs.

“What? No gushing gratitude?” he asked as he stopped next to her in front of the room. He handed her the key with a plastic cactus hanging from it.

“The owners of the motel overdid the desert theme,” she commented, figuring it was a safe topic. She couldn’t imagine why she’d want to invite him in unless her illness had caused temporary insanity. Roxy just wanted him gone. “I’ll bet you the room is orange.”

“I’d lose. I think Lloyd’s color blind. He always wears the same shade of brown.”

Roxy blinked. “Isn’t there a Mrs. Lloyd to help him with the color scheme?”

“Naw, she moved to Laredo. I guess she doesn’t like small towns, either.”

Roxy tried to concentrate on opening the door. How awkward to be standing in front of a motel room with a man she hardly knew. A place where strangers went to be intimate.

Her normally clever fingers fumbled with the key.

Everything external went away when he gently took the key from her hand. Her fingers tingled from the contact. He felt so masculine looming over her, making her feel a sense of security—and an unaccustomed hunger. His strong hands took hold of the knob. Her breath caught, then released in the rhythm of his actions. Her body hummed to a tune she hadn’t heard in over two years.

She licked her lips as he fit the key into the lock.

Could he feel it? The air thickened. Everything stood still. Storm weather. Would it be slow and easy when he touched her or would all hell break loose?

With agonizing patience he slid the key home.

She blinked. How had he mesmerized her with so simple an action?

“The lock’s sticking.”

Roxy bit her lip to hold back a giggle. What would he think if he sensed what was going through her head? That she’d invite him into this room, into her bed, if he showed the slightest interest. And she wouldn’t even think of throwing him out.

A man she didn’t know. Hadn’t she changed at all? “I guess so.”

“Are you feeling dizzy again?”

Yes. “No, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Prolonged celibacy caused her reaction, she knew. Nothing more.

He didn’t move. The tempest hovered just beyond them. If this was big-sky country she should be able to see what came next.

She shifted nervously. He bent down. She closed her eyes. Did she feel the brush of his lips on her cheek? Her eyes popped open. “You didn’t kiss me, did you?” she accused him in a tone laced with panic. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

It must be the odd light, Luke thought. Her skin had taken on the washed out color of a corpse, which had brought to mind that stupid fairy tale about a dead girl who needed a kiss.

“I wouldn’t kiss you,” he denied, hoping he wasn’t blushing because he had been thinking about her in that way. Not as just a stranger in trouble, but as a woman. “It wouldn’t be professional. I just brushed a strand of hair off of your cheek.”

Roxanne Adams pursed her lips, as if she didn’t think much of him.

Luke laughed at the look on her face. He couldn’t seem to help it. She’d looked both horrified and defiant. How he admired her sassy attitude! And despite lank hair, the circles under those crystal eyes and the hitch in her stride, she was desirable. Though she made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her and he wanted to protect her.

What had gotten into him? Hadn’t she been making a mockery of his town and his life all day long? Hadn’t she shaken his confidence in what he thought he wanted—Carla and a bunch of kids growing up in Red Wing?

Definitely not a ragged redhead with a chip on her shoulder.

“I get the impression this job persona is everything to you. Too bad there isn’t a heart under the badge.”

Obviously cutting truth was her weapon of choice. Luke simply wouldn’t allow her to get to him. “You’ve been out of your head the entire time you’ve known me. You’re hardly in a position to say anything about me.” It came out as casually as he could have wished.

“True. But I’m observant. I’ll bet you have no life beyond the job.” She ran her tongue over her pale pink lips. “Boy, I’d kill for a drink of water.”

She wanted a drink of water? Miss Dallas had just reached inside of his head and summed up his entire life, and she wanted a drink of water?

He blinked. No. She didn’t know him, and she didn’t know about Carla. But I can’t remember if Carla has freckles under her makeup. And I can’t remember if her bottom lip quivers when she’s defensive. But I can list the criminal offences of all the men I’ve arrested and the dates they get out of prison. When had the job become his life?

He pushed the door open, suddenly needing to get away from her.

She ducked inside.

Luke glanced around. “It’s probably not what you’re used to, but Millie’s floors are clean enough to eat off of.”

She walked inside and then reached over to turn on the bedside light. She looked around with a smile. “It’s definitely brown. Not much better than orange but better than sleeping outside tonight.”

In the soft lighting, her red-gold curls resembled a crown. What would they look like spread out on the pillows? And her skin? Only a shade darker than the sheets, was it as soft as it looked?

“Who’s Millie?” she asked as she bent over to take off her sandals. Her position emphasized her long body.

His gaze clung to the seductive curve of her hip. His feet refused to enter the room. “Millie, the maid who’s worked at the motel for twenty plus years. She’s also in charge of the town grapevine.”

“Ah, gossip. It must be really juicy in a town like this one. Every once in a while someone must run over an armadillo. I’ll bet it keeps you folks talking for months.”

“This town has its moments.”

She approached the doorway where he hung on to the frame. She didn’t appear to be in a hurry to get a drink of water. In fact she looked like she had all the time in the world.

Did Carla move like that? Like she was honey in motion? He shifted nervously, wanting to be anywhere but here.

“What moments? Vandalism? Ice cream missing from the town’s soda shop?”

For a moment he floundered, wondering what she was talking about, distracted by her every gesture, and then he remembered. Crime. They were talking about his work. The work he never forgot. “Real crimes,” he insisted.

She leaned in the shadows of the door frame, her long, long legs and elegant red toenails inches from his boots.

Luke swallowed hard. “The porch light must be out. I’ll go and tell Lloyd. Good night, Miss Adams.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me about the awful crimes people in this town commit?’

Her eyes were deep and mysterious. He expected they would be mocking if he could see them more clearly. He would do well to remember she’s Miss Dallas. “Anywhere there’s people there’s crime. The sad thing about small towns is that most of the crimes are committed by people who know one another.”

“Crimes of passion?”

Her throaty tone reached parts of him he’d do better to ignore. He straightened up. “I’ve got to be going. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I’m going to be just fine. Maybe a little lonely.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out two twenty-dollar bills. “This is for whatever you may need until the bank opens tomorrow.” He hoped she’d swallow her pride and take the money.

She hesitated. “It’s just a loan. Just until the wire comes through,” she confirmed.

“Sure.”

She took the money and stuffed it into the back pocket of her shorts. He focused on her face but it wasn’t much safer than her curves.

“I saw the restaurant. What is it, The Golden Pig? Will you accept a nice dinner in lieu of interest?”

“It’s The Golden Pan.” His tone had hardened.

“The Golden Pan,” she repeated tentatively, uncertainties making her look as innocent as a child.

She hadn’t meant to make fun of the restaurant, Luke realized. I guess I don’t have to be so defensive. It’s just that it’s such a temptation to see her again.

Too much of a temptation. “You can drop the money by the station if I don’t see you before you leave town. Just leave it with Bertha at the front desk.”

All too aware he was trying to say goodbye, his gaze touched each of her features.

“Would you like to come in?” She hesitated a moment as if she’d like to take the offer back, shifting nervously on her feet. Then she looked into his face. “I may be from Dallas, but I don’t say that to every man I meet,” she said defensively.

She trembled when the back of his fingers grazed her soft, flushed cheek. Her eyes were as deep as his fishing hole. Was this why he believed in her? This vulnerability that seemed so honest in a woman so bold and brassy? She’s such a contradiction.

Such a temptation.

“I can’t.”

She smiled. “Of course. It’s unprofessional. I understand.” She almost taunted him.

“I can’t because I’m engaged.”

Her head came up.

She searched his face. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s been a hell of a day and you’re not thinking straight.”

She nodded. Then she lowered her head. She reached for the door to close it. “Good night.”

At the last minute he put his hand up to stop the door from completing its swing. He reached out but didn’t touch her this time. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed.”

She nodded. Not looking at him. It was as if she was ashamed and only wanted him to disappear.

“I’ve never been more tempted.”




3


THE PHONE STARTLED HER out of a nightmare and her hand shook as she reached for the receiver. She pressed it hard against her ear, “Hello?” she rasped out.

“Roxy? Is that you?”

Roxy’s heart sank. “Yeah, Mick, it’s me. How did you find me?”

“Your dad’s housekeeper told me where you were staying. She told me you’re sick.” Panic sharpened his voice.

“I’m not sick. I just got dehydrated and my blood sugar was low. I’m fine now. Where are you? Are you straight?”

“How could I be? You know what Joey did to himself.”

The panic became pain.

“He’s going to be all right.”

“He did it deliberately. He just couldn’t handle it anymore. I’m so tired of fighting this, Roxy. I’m tired of being alone. I want someone to take care of me for a change. Someone strong enough to rely on or I’m outta here.”

Roxy nodded. She could understand being tired of fighting. There’d been many days when the siren song of alcohol had been almost too much to bear and death had seemed easier. The course both her mother and her brother had taken when their addictions had overwhelmed them.

She’d also needed someone to turn to, but Roxy would allow no one to help until that terrible morning when she’d hit rock bottom. She’d finally called her father begging for help, and he’d been there for her.

“Roxy?”

She struggled to sit up, grasping the phone in a death grip. “I’m here, Mick.”

“I need you to come home. I’m falling into the pit.” Obviously stoned, he sobbed without restraint.

“What are you doing? Booze or pills? Mick?”

“Both, man. What does it matter? I’m gonna end up like Joey and I don’t care. Better sooner than later.”

“Mick? Just tell me where you are.”

“I’m at Club Med. Where do you think I am?” His husky voice suddenly sounded sly.

Roxy grasped the phone tighter. “Mick? Tell me where you are.” She couldn’t go from bar to bar. The lights, the booze, the lure of the only true escape would suck her down.

Especially with the specter of Joey hanging over her. He’d been doing so well and then he’d just given in; he’d gotten drunk, added the right pills. She’d been so frightened. Suddenly she was back in time, cradling her dead brother, David, whose beautiful eyes were glazed in death. Dead by his own hand at twenty-six.

His flesh had been so cold…That scene had stolen a childhood of wonderful memories. So she tried never to think about David at all.

At least Joey was alive.

“Mick, please, tell me where you are!” Her voice echoed in the empty motel room.

“Damn him.” The pain in Mick’s voice touched Roxy’s heart. The desperation in it touched her soul.

Mick and his brother were really close. They owned a bar. They’d fed her when she’d been so far down she couldn’t hold a job and wouldn’t go to her father for money. They’d given her a job and self-respect. Then after she’d gotten sober they’d both talked about selling the business, about getting straight. Joey who was forty, ten years older than his brother, had been leading the way.

Roxy knew exactly how Mick felt.

She’d also looked up to David, the way her students looked up to her. That was another reason she couldn’t go back. She ran a support group. Those kids deserved better than to have their mentor fall apart.

Look at me, she thought. I’m no better than Mick. Hot tears covered her face. “Mick, you’re so lucky. He’s still alive. Joey’s still alive and he’s going to be okay.”

“I’m lucky? I sure don’t feel lucky. I’m trying, Roxy, but why fight it? Joey was stronger than me and he couldn’t do it. Why should I even try?”

She heard him take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I called.” He sounded as if her grief had sobered him. “You deserve more than a bum like me for a friend. I should be thinking about you. I’d do anything for you and that includes getting the hell outta of your life. Meanwhile I’m going to get so strung out I won’t even remember I had a brother.”

“Mick!”

But only the buzz of the dial tone answered her desperate query. She put the receiver down and curled into a ball, shivering, like she would never be warm again.

She had to go to him.

Where will you find him? He’ll hide until he’s too stoned to remember he’s hiding.

She’d find him if she had to search every bar in Dallas. She had a responsibility to help another alcoholic. She couldn’t fail him when so many people had been there to help her. She’d find him even if she ended up picking up a drink.

And then you’ll die.

The shivering turned to outright shaking.

The shaking continued. She recognized the voice of reason. This part of Roxy knew she wouldn’t survive another binge. It wasn’t even the diabetes. It was the threat of finding herself at the bottom. If she ever went down to that place again she couldn’t come back up.

The phone rang again. She picked it up, hoping Mick had come to his senses. “Hello?”

“Roxy?”

“Daddy, it’s me.” She rubbed a lock of hair against her cheek.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You sound terrible, but you told me they had the diabetes under control.”

She sniffed, “Mick just called me.”

He paused for a moment. “I figured he might. I’m sorry, honey. Mrs. Petty gave him your number at the motel because he said it was an emergency. She thought it was okay because Joey’s in your AA group.”

“Daddy, he was really stoned. I have to come home and find him. Before he hurts himself.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I know. But…”

“I’ll find him, Roxy. You stay where you are. We’ve gotten three calls from the drunks you used to run with.”

“He’s not like them.” She knew she sounded defensive.

“I understand, but he’s going to hurt you, Roxy. You can’t allow him to depend on you. He has to help himself. You understand better than anyone.” The pain of having tried to help her and failed was there in his voice. The pain of a man who’d let his work consume him until he’d lost his wife to alcoholism, and his son to drug addiction and suicide.

It represented another chunk of guilt she had to bear. Her responsibility to Mick warred with her need to atone to her father for the years of heartache he’d endured.

What am I going to do? “I should come home. Joey and Mick need me.” She knew her tone lacked conviction.

“No. Just stay put. You ran because you knew you couldn’t handle your grief for David and Joey. I know this brought it all back.” He sounded as if he was working to keep his own emotions in check.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too. And I worry about you. This is too much at one time. Joey isn’t out of the hospital and he’d want you to do whatever you needed to stay straight. I’ll handle Mick.” The desperation in his voice convinced her more than anything he said.

“What will you do about Mick?” She sniffed again. Roxy felt guilty about abandoning Mick. His suffering touched more than her sense of responsibility, it touched her heart. He’d sounded so alone.

“I’ll find him. I’ll look all night long if I have too. Honey, I promise. I’ll find him and keep him safe. I’ll call someone from your AA emergency list and let them baby-sit him once I’ve got him.”

She took a deep breath, thinking. “Call Michelle, Bubba Watkins, or Houston Sharp. All of them reach out to other alcoholics; they’ll understand what he’s going through.” She couldn’t explain any further. Her dad knew why. Everything she knew about her friends from AA she kept confidential. Just as they guarded her ugliest secrets.

“I’ll call them. I’ll call you back if I can’t reach any of them and need more names. Roxy, I promise to take care of this and I’ll even visit Joey so he knows how much you wished you could be there for him.”

She no longer felt torn by her responsibilities. God willing, there would be other times, when she was stronger, when she could do the reaching out. “Thank you, Daddy. I feel better.”

“I love you. I’ll send you the two thousand first thing in the morning. Do you need anything else? Should I ask one of your AA friends to come and stay with you?”

“No, I think it might be good for me to be alone. It’ll give me some time to think.”

“If you need me I can be there in just a few hours. There has to be a municipal airport nearby.”

He sounded worried for her, but she knew he’d accept whatever decision she made. He’d learned long before she’d started drinking that she had to make her own choices, live with her own mistakes. She’d never been a model child.

Every time he’d forced her to do anything it had been a disaster. She’d fought him with every ounce of her will. Until the last binge. Then she’d gone crawling to him for help and he’d been there. He knew things about her that would make any parent cringe with horror. But no matter what other mistakes he’d made as a parent, he’d been there when it counted. She loved him for that.

“I’m really okay. What you’ve already done is more than enough. Thank you.”

“I want to do more for you, Roxy. What else can I do to help?”

“Like I told you when I called from the hospital, I just had to get out of Dallas. That’s all. Everything reminded me. I didn’t go for a drink, just a long drive. Do you understand, Dad?”

“Yes, and I’m so proud of you.”

He sounded choked up. It made her eyes flow again.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I’ll call you when the dust settles. Take care of yourself, baby.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy. I can’t get in too much trouble in this hick town.”

ROXY SCRAMBLED OUT OF BED. Her head throbbed from crying, her eyelids felt like sandpaper against her eyes. Her nightmares had been particularly vivid this time and she doubted the wisdom of staying in this one-horse town for another day. She debated with herself as she cleaned up and dressed.

She looked at the limp collar of the shirt she’d been wearing since Wednesday night when she’d gotten in her car for the drive. Hard to believe it was Friday morning, almost the weekend. Not that it mattered when she had a couple more weeks before school started.

The shirt smelled a bit rank. I really need clothes. Roxy raked her fingers through the damp tangle of her shoulder-length hair. I need a hairbrush. Then she bent to examine her freckles in the harsh light of the bathroom. And I definitely need some makeup.

There had to be some store equivalent to a Wal-Mart, even in a town this size.

Her stomach rumbled. She patted it. Okay, breakfast first, the bank, and then shopping. She grabbed the twenties she’d accepted from Luke. She looked at them curiously. What was it about him? She’d met all kinds of men; rich successful men and long-haired rebels oozing sensuality. Still, it was the uptight Farmer John who made her want to give herself up to his keeping.

I wonder if he makes love with the same attention to detail as he exercises in his job? A little quiver went through her at the thought.

Roxy pulled a lock of hair up to her cheek. I hope he didn’t get the impression that my offer for him to come into my motel room was payback for his assistance. I feel humiliated enough as it is. She rubbed the curl against her face. It doesn’t matter. We won’t see each other again. With a sigh, she pushed her hair back off of her face.

Shoving the twenties back into her pocket, she picked up the key to the room. The large ring had a plastic tag in the shape of a cactus with the number fourteen in bright orange. It reminded her of the creative hall passes at the high school.

One of her students had given her a Porsche hall pass he’d made in shop. He’d even painted the eight-inch wooden car the brightest yellow he could find. All the kids admired her car, but at a respectful distance. The tough kids she mentored took care of their own, and that included her. She smiled at the thought of her students. She missed them. They gave her life meaning.

From Luke’s car tour of the main street, she remembered, roughly, the location of The Golden Pan. Looking in the windows of the shops along the way she thought the Western Round-Up would do for jeans, shorts and shirts. The drugstore across the street would probably carry toiletries.

It was already getting hot so she entered the air-conditioned lobby with a sigh of relief. Various animal trophies littered the walls. A sign propped up beside the register advertised an opening for a waitress. Roxy noted it absently as she sought out a table. Several cups of coffee and a stack of pancakes quickly followed.

Sometime during her meal she decided being alone would allow her too much time to think, although going home right now wasn’t the best option. She felt cowardly, her flight from Dallas proof she wasn’t strong enough to face her old drinking crowd. Maybe I’m fooling myself. Maybe I can’t fight this fight. If bad times come around I’ll just fold.

But a bad time had come around and she’d reached for her keys rather than a drink.

It was progress.

Pitiful. But progress.

Idly she watched the pregnant waitress trying to serve all the tables around her. Roxy needed something to pass the time until she was ready to go home, something with long, exhausting hours. Right there, having made yet another impulsive decision she would probably regret, Roxy got the waitress’s attention.

ROXY BALANCED the heavy tray full of home-style dinners. As she prepared to put the meat loaf special in front of a customer, the rancher gestured toward the catsup bottle.

“I’d like some catsup, please. The bottle on the table’s almost empty.”

“Sure. Be with you in just a moment.” Roxy finished handing out plates, asked if the customers needed anything else and then moved to check on her next table.

Roxy had been hired on the spot and had an apron strapped on her faster than you could say “soup of the day.” Lisa, the pregnant waitress, had practically kissed her when she’d asked about the opening for a job, even though she made it clear she wouldn’t be staying long. Lisa had been even more excited when she’d found out Roxy had experience. It was no big deal. In the years she’d been openly drinking, she’d avoided her dad and thrown his money back in his face. She’d survived by becoming proficient at all kinds of jobs.

A customer with two children was trying to get her attention. “Yes, may I help you?” Roxy asked as she approached the table.

While one child drew on a napkin, the other was yelling. “I need two Dr. Peppers, and a Diet Coke,” said the harried mother, “and another pen if you can spare it.”

Roxy handed the woman her extra pen. I’m glad I teach high school.

She went on to the next table to jot down more drink orders. Suddenly Roxy found herself nodding absently at a customer, having no idea what he’d just ordered. Sheriff Luke Hermann had just walked into the diner with a perfect, petite blonde. He and the blonde settled in a booth beside the lady with the kids.

Roxy gritted her teeth and plastered on a smile. She pretended to finish the order and then she sauntered up to the table where Luke was seated.

Luke dwarfed the little gal. She was slight enough to look childlike beside him. Her hair was true blond without a hint of red or curl.

There was no way that little Barbie doll had a temper. I’ll bet she doesn’t know how to stand up to the man. She probably just said “Yes, Luke” and “No, Luke” and “Whatever you want, Luke.” Roxy ground her teeth.

“Yes, Luke” and “No, Luke” were the last things she wanted to say to him. Although he’d been honest with Roxy, she was stunned at how much it hurt to see them together.

His very surprised reaction to her presence was almost a balm to her ego, so she forged ahead. Best to get this over with—she was sure to run into him as long as she stayed in town. The long arm of the law and all that. “Hello, Luke. You ready to order a drink?” Luckily the drinks in this restaurant were all nonalcoholic.

“Hello, Miss Adams,” he stuttered. “How are you feelin’?”

“I’m fine.” Roxy’s smile went even wider. He looked like a little boy with a handful of forbidden cookies.

“What are you doing here?” He rushed on. “Didn’t you get the wire?”

“I got the wire, but I had some time on my hands and Lisa needed help. I dropped the twenties at the police station. Thanks for the loan.”

The blonde’s head went back and forth between them like a tennis ball. “Luke, care to introduce us?” she asked impatiently.

Maybe she wasn’t as blond as she appeared.

Luke gestured toward Roxy. “Carla Rae Sweeny, this is Roxanne Adams. She had a medical problem yesterday morning and I drove her over to the clinic.”

Carla gave Roxy a smile which didn’t meet her shrewd eyes. “He’s always rescuing strays, aren’t you, darling?” She put a possessive hand on Luke’s arm.

Roxy noticed Carla’s long beautiful nails were painted a nice pale pink. Insipid. Still, if this was what he wanted… “I guess you’re the fiancée?”

There was a sudden silence all around them. Carla sat as if stunned. Roxy wondered why. The girl had staked her claim, so why did she look as if her world had just tilted.




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