Dead Ringer (41 page)

He'd hurt her?

With great reluctance, she pulled away. "Starting with Sheriff Dodd."

He nodded. "Well, that wasn't hard. He's a scumbag of the first order. The Rangers were having trouble with an increase in drug distribution to high school kids in the county. Dodd got nowhere with the investigation, and it seems he never intended to; he was getting kickbacks from a consortium of dealers in the area. I would have liked to take him down for what he did to you, but... well, in the end I figured taking him down was all that mattered."

For her. He'd done that for her. "I don't know what to say."

"Just say you'll give me a chance."

A chance.
"To what-prove how much you care?"

"Prove we're not all sleazeballs."

"We?"

"Cops. Men. Me. Mostly me."

"And how are you going to prove that?"

"I don't know yet. I figure it might take a while, though."

She barked a laugh. "Yeah, like a lifetime."

He stepped back as if shot, but the sucprise was clearly feigned. "That's what I was thinking, too." He sobered, watching her intently. "A lifetime."

She stilled, seeing the gleam in his blue eyes. "What are you saying?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. Just that I might have to stick around past ten-thirty." He leaned against the counter and studied her. "If it's okay with you, that is. Ruby needs a new sheriff."

Her eyes widened. "And you're applying for the job?"

"I'm thinking about it. That is, if you'll think about this." He took something else from his pocket, this time placing it on the counter between them. When he removed his hand she saw the ring. The diamond ring.

Her mouth dried up. She cut a fast glance at him and then back at the ring. He couldn't be serious.

"What about..." She swallowed. "What about what I said in the mine?"

"What-mat you were conning me? That it was all a joke and you didn't mean it?' He threw her a pitied glance. "You were right. A good cop knows a con when he hears one." He yanked her to him, close enough to smell the shaving cream on his skin. "And I'm a very good cop."

Her face heated, and he laughed, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Bark for me, Angel. And if you're a good little doggie, I might be persuaded to give you some of what you had that night in the mine."

She pushed him away, untangling herself from the hard body and the sensations that flowed through her nonstop. "But, what about Arthur? What about the long-"

"-line of men?'

She nodded stiffly. "I don't give a shit, Angel. The past is past. I'm talking about the future."

"You don't care?"

"Why should I? Do you care that I was stupid enough to fall for a woman who didn't deserve me? That it almost got me killed? Seems my mistakes have been a whole lot deadlier than yours."

She eyed the ring. The diamond was square-shaped, simple and gleaming. Exactly the kind of ring she would have chosen herself. Not that she ever expected to choose a ring.

Not that she ever expected... anything.

"I never slept with any of them," she said softly, fingering the ring to avoid facing him.

Silence. "You never-"

"That was the deal. I hung around, looked pretty, made them feel alive, and gave them something to look forward to every day." She forced herself to face him. "But no sex."

"Not even Beaman?"

She shook her head.

"And they were... okay with that?"

She smiled, feeling wistful. "Very okay. You can't imagine what it's like to be pushed to the sidelines by life. To be old and counted out. I evened the score a little."

He shook his head and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, sending a slow shiver through her. "You are one big surprise, Angel. But whether you did or didn't doesn't matter. I don't care." He pushed the hair behind her ears, a gesture as intimate as it was sensual. "So, what's it gonna be? You up for this?"

She met his gaze, saw the challenge there.
I dare you, Angel.
She raised her chin. She was never one to turn down a dare.

"No nagging about what I wear?"

He eyed her leisurely. "Honey, you can wear prison gray for all I care. As long as it's cut down to there and hiked up to here, I'll be happy."

She gave him one last chance to back out. "You ever stop to think what it will be like for a lawman to live with a bad girl?"

"Oh, I've thought about it." He shot her another sly, lazy smile. "And I think it'll be pretty damn good, Angel. As long as the lawman's me and the bad girl's you, I'd say it'll be pretty damn good."

* * * THE END * * *

A native New Yorker, Annie Solomon has been dreaming up stories since she was ten. After a twelve-year career in advertising, where she rose to Vice President and Head Writer at a mid-size agency, she abandoned the air conditioners, furnaces, and heat pumps of her professional life for her first love-romance. An avid knitter, she now lives in Nashville with her husband and daughter. To learn more, visit her Web site at www.anniesolomon.com.