Fifty miles outside of Prosperino, California, Nate Reno whipped his cherry red Mustang convertible into the gravel parking lot of the Northern Pines Tavern.
With stars twinkling against a navy blue July sky and '70s classics pumping from the car's stereo, the drive Nate had begun two days ago from Dallas was nearing a perfect end. After he'd gassed up the last time, he hadn't planned to stop until he reached Hacienda de Alegria, the sprawling, coast-hugging ranch owned by Joe and Meredith Colton.
But the fast-food lunch Nate had grabbed in San Rafael was now just a memory and his empty stomach compelled him to stop. Taking time for a beer and burger wouldn't exactly put a crimp in his schedule. As far as the Coltons knew, the man they considered an honorary family member wasn't due in Prosperino until later in the week.
His long legs stiff, Nate climbed out of the Mustang, shooting a rueful look at the flashing green neon pine trees on the tavern's roadside sign. Almost eight years had passed since he'd been there. He and his best friend, Jackson Colton, had spent half of the first night of Nate reaching the legal drinking age tossing back whiskey and playing pool inside the Northern Pines Tavern. They'd spent the second half of the night sicker than dogs out back.
As gravel crunched beneath his boots, Nate gave the back of his neck an impatient rub. For months he had been trying to understand the source of the discontent that had settled around him. Wasn't from the divorce that was now two years in the past, that was for sure. His marriage had turned rocky fast and by the time it ended, not much emotion was left on either side. And he knew his unrest wasn't due to his job as an arson investigator on the Dallas Fire Department.
He just wished to hell he could figure out why he couldn't shake the feeling that his world had gotten a half beat out of sync. Finding that answer — and attending the upcoming gala in honor of Joe Colton's 60th birthday — were the reasons Nate had taken extended personal leave, tossed a suitcase into his car, and headed west.
Nate pulled open the tavern's heavy wooden door and was instantly greeted by the slam and crack of pool balls and air redolent of a lifetime of tobacco.
Pausing, he waited just inside the door while his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. As far as he could tell, not much had changed during the eight years he'd been gone. On his right was the long, scarred bar where patrons still huddled on stools, talking over their drinks. On his left sat what looked to be the same two pool tables with glaring fluorescent lights hanging overhead.
After he and Jackson learned the valuable lesson of drinking in moderation, they'd spent uncountable hours playing Eight Ball on those tables. As usual, both tables had games in progress.
Nate strode past several booths and tables, all occupied. The customers' dress ran the gamut from work shirts and jeans to suits and ties. Northern Pines Tavern had always drawn a cultural mix, from truckers and tourists, to blue collar workers and businessmen from a handful of nearby towns.
Still working out the kinks from his long drive, Nate opted to stand at the bar, where he gave his order to an affable bartender wearing a name tag that read "Jimmy." Sipping the cold beer that appeared in front of him moments later, Nate gazed around, wondering idly if he might recognize a face or two from his past.
It wasn't a familiar face he spotted minutes later, but a pair of mile-long legs.
Nate's eyes narrowed as he studied the tray-toting waitress clad in a white blouse that clung to her curves and a black leather mini that barely made it past the legal limit. If the image of those legs hadn't been burned into his brain long ago, he might not have clicked in to the fact that he knew their owner.
After all, during the year Karen Quinn spent sitting in the assigned seat beside his in senior history class, she'd been a redhead, not the blonde she now was.
Watching her with intensity, Nate's gaze traced the familiar line of her jaw, took in the ripe, sexy lips he'd spent 12 months fantasizing about kissing. His mouth settled into a wry curve. Dream on, Reno. During that year, he'd probably made 20 attempts to get the sultry-voiced cheerleader to go out with him. Each time he'd asked for a date, she'd turned him down. Flat.
"Water under the bridge," he murmured. Leaving his beer on the bar, Nate moved to the table where Karen served drinks with one hand while using the other to balance her loaded tray against one slim hip.
Leaning in, he touched her shoulder and said, "Hey, Red, it's been a while. How you doing?"
Beneath his hand, he felt her jolt as if she'd touched a live flame. Her spine stiffened. When she turned to face him, a mix of emotion flashed in her green eyes.
He grinned. "Remember me?"
"Silly question," she murmured. Her red glossed lips curving, she shifted her hold on the tray. "You haven't been gone that long."
Before Nate could say another word, Karen stepped toward him.…
Working her first undercover assignment behind her new Prosperino P.D. badge, Karen Quinn had no intention of letting the jock who'd hounded her for a date their entire senior year of high school screw things up. She was a seasoned cop. Despite Nate Reno's unexpected appearance at the Northern Pines Tavern, it was her job to stay calm, cool, and controlled.
What she wasn't so calm, cool, and controlled about was the effect his kiss was having on her insides.
She'd had to shut him up, she assured herself even as her flesh heated and her legs turned to jelly. If she hadn't wrapped her arm around his neck and tugged his head down for a kiss, his next words might have been, "Last I heard, Red, you were driving a black-and-white in L.A."
Which she had been, until six months ago when she moved back home to help her frail mother, and joined the Prosperino Police Department. Knowing that Karen had worked under cover for the LAPD, the local sheriff had borrowed her to do the same at the popular watering hole.
Now, two weeks into that assignment, Karen faced a built-in job hazard: an innocent citizen with the potential to blow her cover. Sending up thanks that the overly friendly advances from one of the tavern's regulars had prompted her to declare she was engaged, Karen decided Nate Reno had by necessity just stepped into the role of her fake fiancé.
"I'm so glad to see you," she cooed, giving him a brilliant smile. Aware that all eyes in the tavern were on them, Karen pecked Nate on the cheek and hugged him tight. "I'm a cop working under cover," she whispered in his ear. "You're my fiancé."
She saw the change in his eyes, the faintest deepening of brown as comprehension set in.
"How was your trip, darling?" She settled her palm against his muscled chest. It felt like granite. "I thought you'd never get back."
"The trip was lousy. I thought about you the whole time." His gaze flicked to the name tag pinned above her left breast. "I missed you, Rita."
"You must be tired." Setting her tray aside, she tugged him past the bar, where Jimmy studied them while he served a beer.
Karen slid a key from her pocket and slipped it into Nate's hand. She needed to talk to him, make sure he wouldn't blab about the operation. "Go next door to my rental house and relax. I'll be there in one hour when my shift's over."
"Can't wait." At the door he looked down at her, and it occurred to Karen that eight years had only improved the dark, handsome good looks that the majority of her female classmates had melted over. "It's good to see you," he added.
"Same here." She replied.
Quick as a snake, his arm was around her waist and his mouth on hers, hard and hot and hungry. Even as she felt herself sliding into molten silver, Nate nudged her away. "One hour," he said over his shoulder as he strolled out the door.
"I…"
It took the entire 60 minutes of her shift for Karen's nerves to calm. As she walked across the porch of her rental house, a trickle of anticipation had her pulse again picking up speed. She scowled.
In school, whenever Nate got near, her system ticked like an overwound watch. He had been the one male who'd tempted her to go against the long-ago decision she'd made when she saw the terrible hurt her commitment-challenged father had inflicted on her mother. Now, the hammering of her pulse told Karen that Nate Reno could still tempt her. Big time.
The sight of him sprawled on the couch with his long, jean-clad legs stretched out while he watched TV sent an unsettling thrill up her spine.
She sat her purse on the kitchen counter while a TV news anchor gave an update on the Jewels of Allah. The priceless emerald necklace shown on the screen had been stolen two days ago from a Middle Eastern sheik on business in Las Vegas. The anchor reported the death of the security guard wounded during the heist.
Clicking off the TV, Nate rose and walked to her. "Hope I didn't mess up anything for you at the tavern."
"You did fine." When Karen thought about the feel of his mouth against hers, she added a silent more than fine. "Thanks for not blowing my cover."
"Which is?"
"Confidential, since you're a civilian." She shoved back her blond hair. "Nate, I need your word you won't talk about this."
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather case. "Inspector Nathaniel Reno, arson investigator, Dallas Fire Department."
She stared at the gold badge. "You're a fire cop?"
He nodded. "Not a civilian. Why don't you tell me what's going on?"
Nate's badge made a difference. "A snitch told the local sheriff that an employee at the tavern has ties to a group boosting jewelry and guns from residential burglaries throughout Nevada," she explained. "The employee is the middleman between the group and the fence taking the hot jewelry off their hands. My job is to identify the middleman."
"Who will hopefully steer you to the fence."
"Exactly." Karen checked her watch. "I'm sorry I held you up, Nate. I don't mean to be rude, but I got my first lead in the case tonight. I need to change clothes and check out that lead."
His mouth curved. "I've got extra time to get to where I need to be." He slicked a fingertip along her jaw, shooting her heart into her throat. "Most of my job involves checking leads, Red. Why don't you let me give you a hand with whatever you need to do?"
The grin Nate flashed after suggesting Karen take him to check out the lead on her case was the one she remembered from high school — so irresistible it ought to be registered as a weapon.
But the crooked tilt of his mouth also resembled the sly smile her father had used each time he begged her mother's forgiveness for his indiscretions. Karen had learned long ago to guard her heart against a man with a charmer's grin.
"Thanks for the offer, Nate, but I don't need you to go with me."
He angled his chin. "I didn't pick up on your having backup at the tavern. Or did I miss it?"
"I'm not on a drug case, doing buys and busts. My job is to keep my eyes open. If I get a lead on the burglary ring's middleman, I'll call the sheriff. That's all the backup I need."
Gazing down at her, Nate leaned against the kitchen counter in her small rental house. He'd kissed her just before he'd walked out of the tavern because he had spent an entire year of his life wondering what it would feel like to do just that. One long, slow goodbye kiss, and she'd be out of his system.
Or so he'd thought. Seeing her again had brought on a flood of memories — including how his pride had taken a hit each time she refused to go out with him. As far as he was concerned, unfinished business hung between them and he had to settle it, at least in his own mind. Which meant he had to stick around.
He figured it would be easier to convince her to agree to his continued presence by appealing to the cop, instead of the woman.
"Since everyone at the tavern thinks I'm your fiancé, it might be handy for me to stick around for a couple of days. You have to agree that no matter how safe an undercover operation seems, it doesn't hurt to have every base covered."
She stared at him with edgy caution. "No, it doesn't."
"So, what lead are we following?"
With a resigned shrug, she headed toward the hallway. "I'll tell you while I change clothes."
Grinning, Nate followed. "Think I can keep my mind on what you say while you do that?"
She shot him a withering look. "Since you'll be on the other side of the bedroom door, you won't have a problem."
With the door cracked, Nate stood in the hallway while Karen said, "An hour before you showed up, two men dressed in suits came into the tavern and sat at the bar. They schmoozed with Jimmy — he's the bartender. I saw one of the men show Jimmy something in a small purple cloth bag."
Nate lifted a brow. "Jewelry?"
"That's my guess, since the burglars we're after heist only jewelry and guns. When the men left the tavern, I slid out the back and made it to the parking lot in time to see a black car with a Nevada license plate take off. I wasn't close enough to get the car's make or the plate number. I want to drive around some area motels and see if I spot the car."
"You could have the sheriff's boys do that."
"I could. But I've served drinks and bussed tables for two weeks. I'm ready for some real police work."
Nate opened his mouth, then clamped it shut when Karen stepped into view. Gone was the short swing of streaky blond hair, replaced by black curls that gave her a sultry gypsy look.
"You sure fooled me. I thought you'd cut your hair and gone blonde."
"A wig." Shoving back one flap of her jacket, she clipped a holstered automatic onto the waistband of her trim slacks. "So is this dark hair you're seeing now. During my stint on the LAPD I roomed with a studio makeup artist. The pointers she gave me on altering my appearance come in handy when I work under cover."
Nate nodded. "Too bad you didn't get a better look at the car the suits drove."
"All I know is it was big and black. And had a Nevada license."
At the third motel they tried, Karen pointed at a black caddy with a Nevada license plate. "That's it." After she recorded the license plate number, Nate parked the Mustang near the motel's office.
"Need a room?" the sleepy-eyed clerk asked when Karen and Nate walked in.
"Some information," Karen said. "My cousin's supposed to come in from Reno. I'm not sure what car he drives. We saw the black Cadillac in your lot with the Nevada plate. Does that car belong to a Mr. Roberts?"
The clerk checked the motel's register. "Nope. It belongs to two guys named Smith and Jones. They checked into Room 100 a couple of hours ago."
Back in the Mustang, Nate and Karen surveilled Room 100. Since no lights shone from behind the curtain, they decided Smith and Jones were in for the night.
Nate met her gaze. "I vote we come back at dawn and stake out the room to see what their next move is."
"I agree. In the meantime, let's head back. We'll need a good night's sleep if we're going to get up at dawn."
During the drive to her rental house, Karen was silent as she tried to repress her memories of the attraction for Nate that she'd felt — and fought — all those years ago in high school. The kisses they'd shared hours ago had reignited a desire that she could no longer deny. Was no longer sure she wanted to deny.
Her senses reeling, she felt that attraction shift into high gear while Nate parked the Mustang and walked with her to the door of her rented house. Her heart pounding, Karen tried to remind herself that love-'em-and-leave-'em Nate Reno was not the man for her.
As Nate closed the door of her house behind them, his eyes met Karen's. He saw a swirl of emotion in her green eyes. Was he the cause of that emotion? His gaze lowered, measured the pulse pounding at the base of her throat. Pounding just like his.
Instinct told him to take a chance, to finally reach out to the gorgeous, compelling woman whom he had never quite managed to get out of his system.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he dipped his head toward her upturned face.…
Driven by hot, thudding desire, Karen fisted her hands in Nate's hair and dragged his mouth to hers. Instantly, she went weak and hot and dizzy.
Many long minutes later, Nate tore his mouth from hers and feasted on her throat. The heady scent of her overwhelmed him. He gripped her hips, desperate to sate his hunger, to take what he'd craved for so long.
"Nate…this is…too much. Too…fast." Karen breathed.
He'd dragged her jacket halfway down her arms before her words clicked his sanity back into place.
"Okay." He rested his forehead against hers. He'd never before had passion slam into him with such force. "I need…to get my bearings."
"Me, too," she said, her voice a husky rasp. When she gazed up at him, her eyes looked like smoky emeralds. "We should take things slow. That kiss was…awesome."
"Yeah." Sensing her hesitation, he arched an eyebrow. "But?"
She took an uncertain step backward. She needed time to find her balance. To think about this man who had stepped so unexpectedly out of her past. And try to come to grips with what he might mean to her present...and future.
"But, when you touch me, I can't think straight. That's not good because I need to concentrate on this case. Working under cover, it's so easy to make mistakes when your mind isn't totally focused on the job."
He, too, carried a badge, and despite what his body was telling him right now, his heart and mind gave him different orders. "You're right, Red. It'd be better if we concentrate on hot jewels instead of each other." He hoped to hell he could do that.
"Okay." She eased out a breath. "Since we have to be back at the motel early, why don't you sleep on my couch?"
Nate shoved an unsteady hand through his hair. "Fine."
* * *
The next morning, Nate steered the Mustang back toward the hotel, Karen sitting silently by his side. He thought about how he'd laid awake all night, thinking of her. That's what he'd done in high school, too. Spent endless, sleepless nights thinking of the girl who refused to date him. Who never gave him a chance to get close.
He slid his gaze to the passenger seat. The dark wig Karen had worn the night before was gone. Now, her red hair flowed like a flame down the back of a slim black dress. This tall, lean redhead was the girl he remembered. He knew the way things were going, he might spend the rest of his life obsessing about the gorgeous, desirable woman she'd become. And wondering how she always seemed to slip through his fingers.
Now, as he turned the Mustang into the hotel's parking lot, it hit Nate how right it felt to be back in California, with Karen Quinn again sitting beside him. Was that the source of the discontent he'd felt lately? Was he ready to come home and reclaim this part of his past he'd always regretted losing?
"The Caddy hasn't moved," Karen observed as they parked opposite Room 100, which the men calling themselves Smith and Jones had checked into last night. "Let's hope these guys are connected to the hot jewels. If not, I'll be back at the tavern tonight serving drinks."
"What happens after you tie up this case?"
"I go back to Prosperino and be a cop." She angled her chin. "You're a long way from Dallas. What brings you to California?"
"Joe Colton's 60th birthday is in two days," Nate answered, sipping his coffee. "According to Jackson, his Aunt Meredith has pulled out all the stops to celebrate."
"Jackson Colton," Karen murmured. "Did one-half of Prosperino High School's answer to Casanova ever settle down?"
"One-half?"
Just then, a car braked in front of Room 100. "Jimmy's car," Karen said, referring to the bartender at the Northern Pines Tavern.
"Looks like your suspicions are right," Nate observed. "Smith and Jones probably came to the tavern to see Jimmy about hot jewels."
The door to Room 100 opened and the suit-clad men walked out. They climbed into the black Cadillac and followed Jimmy's car toward the exit.
Karen smiled. "If Jimmy's taking them to see his fence, we may have this case wrapped today."
Frowning, Nate started the Mustang. If so, he would find another reason to hang around Karen Quinn until he figured out why this one woman still got to him after all these years.
A half-hour later, the two cars turned into the entrance to a wrecker service/salvage yard.
Nate parked the Mustang across the road, then eyed the business. Inside a chain-link fence sat a cement building with a sign advertising sales of auto parts and service. Across a gravel expanse littered with rusted cars sat a garage with both overhead doors open.
"Classy place," Nick observed as the three men disappeared into the cement building.
"We need to find out if they're meeting someone from the outside, or if this is the fence's headquarters," Karen said. "So, we pretend we're customers."
Inside, the building looked like any auto parts supply store. The only person in sight was a male clerk wearing thick black-rimmed Buddy Holly–type glasses. Karen smiled at him; in two seconds she had the guy tripping over his tongue to help her.
"Got a men's room?" Nate asked the goggle-eyed clerk.
When the kid hooked a thumb over his shoulder, Nate strolled toward the rear of the building. He spotted the rest room door, but didn't figure all three men were inside. Down a hallway, he noted a pane of glass set into a wall. The blind on the inside of the glass prevented him from seeing inside what he guessed was an office…and the only logical place that Jimmy and the two suits could be.
Hoping to look in the office through an outside window, Nate slipped out an exit door. Creeping around the cement building, he paused at a window and peered inside. He could see one of the suit-clad men, a desk and an old-time bank safe. The safe's door was open, its shelves bulging with small purple cloth bags.
Shifting to get a better look, Nate caught a shimmering reflection off something on the desk. His eyes widened as he took in the emerald necklace, cradled on purple cloth. His thoughts whipped to last night's newscast. Was the necklace the priceless Jewels of Allah, stolen in Vegas from a Middle Eastern sheik? Nate immediately thought of the security guard murdered during that heist. Had these men killed him?
The next instant, Nate heard the hammer-cock of a gun behind him. Throat dry, he turned and looked over his shoulder.…
Standing at the wrecker's service counter, Karen watched Nate slip out a door at the building's rear. Knowing he must have spotted where Jimmy the bartender and the suit-clad Nevada men had gone, she looked back at the chattering clerk.
"Excuse me, handsome, where's the ladies' room?"
Blushing, he shoved his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose. "In the back."
Karen was halfway there when a grim-faced Jimmy stepped from a hallway. She ducked out of sight, even though she wasn't worried about him recognizing her. During her nightly undercover waitressing shifts, she wore a blond wig over her long red hair.
Belief that her and Nate's presence had gone undetected by the men they'd tailed ended when Jimmy pulled out an automatic. Seconds later, he disappeared through the same door Nate had gone out.
Karen drew her .45 from her purse while fear for Nate clawed at her throat. Her cop training clicking in, she checked to make sure the clerk wasn't watching, then she slipped out the door.
No Nate, no Jimmy. Hammering from the garage several yards away masked the sound of her footsteps on the gravel lot as she crept toward the rear of the building she'd just exited.
Pressing against the wall, she peeked around the corner. Her stomach clenched at the sight of Jimmy pressing the barrel of his automatic against Nate's head.
The realization she could lose Nate Reno in the space of a heartbeat shattered Karen's age-old resolve that he was a charmer best held at arm's length. No matter how much his love-'em-and-leave-'em reputation had always reminded her of her commitment-challenged father, Nate mattered to her.
Karen suddenly realized, seeing Nate in danger, how much he had always mattered. Her fear of experiencing the same hurt as her mother had prevented Karen from risking her heart. Was she now prepared to risk everything for the dark-haired man who had stepped out of her past?
Jaw clenched, she inched forward, staying out of Jimmy's line of sight. In one smooth move she shoved the barrel of her automatic against his neck. "Hands up, dirtball."
Seconds later, she had Jimmy's weapon in her possession. She read him his rights while Nate slapped her cuffs on the bartender's wrists.
"Thanks, Red," Nate said as they escorted Jimmy to where the Mustang sat, parked out of sight.
"You're welcome." Karen waited behind the Mustang while Nate placed the handcuffed, subdued bartender into the car's rear seat. After joining her, Nate briefed her on what he'd seen in the office.
Karen's eyes went wide. "Are you positive the emerald necklace is the Jewels of Allah?"
"Yes. And I've got a hunch those purple cloth bags filling the safe contain jewelry from your Nevada burglaries."
Using her handheld radio, Karen briefed the sheriff on what had gone down. She then added, "Sergeant Reno and I will wait with the suspect until you arrive with a search warrant for the business and the Cadillac."
Just then, Smith and Jones raced out of the building, jumped into the Cadillac and roared off.
"Follow them!" Karen shouted, even as Nate darted for the driver's door. While Jimmy cursed in the backseat, Nate kept the careening Cadillac in sight. Karen radioed the sheriff and requested a chopper in the air.
Tires squealing, dust flying, the vehicles sped over the narrow road that twisted through Northern California's redwood-lined hills. Suddenly, the Caddy shot over a rise.
"Where the hell did they go?" Nate asked after the Mustang topped the rise.
"Probably headed down one of these logging roads." Karen replied grimly.
As Nate pulled the Mustang over to the side of the road, Karen radioed the sheriff their current location. Signing off, she met Nate's gaze.
Despite her determination to keep focused on the job, the sickening picture of Jimmy holding a gun against Nate's head kept flashing through her mind. "The chopper's on its way," she said, her voice unsteady. "We're to wait here and hope it spots the Caddy."
"Wait, huh?" Nate shot Jimmy a look warning him not to try anything, then he caught Karen's gaze. "Let's get out and talk behind the car."
Outside the car, Nate said, "Getting back to your comment about Jackson Colton being one-half of Prosperino High School's answer to Casanova. He and I were best friends, so I figure you pegged me as the other half of that equation."
Karen nodded, surprised not only to see annoyance in Nate's eyes, but that he felt the need to address the subject now. "You and Jackson had girls puddling at your feet," she explained, keeping one eye on her handcuffed prisoner in the backseat. "Rumor was you kept track of your conquests by carving notches on the gearshifts of your cars."
Awareness snapped into Nate's eyes. "Is that why you wouldn't go out with me? You didn't want to wind up a notch on my car's gearshift?"
"Yes." Karen eased out a breath. "My father could sweep a woman off her feet with one charming grin. I witnessed that countless times. Problem was, he did that while he was married to my mother. She loved him, so she held on. She never let him see how much his lying about being with other women hurt. He made my mother's life miserable and broke her spirit. I promised myself I wouldn't end up with a man who went through women like water. A man like my father."
"A man like me." Nate's mouth tightened. "Back then, you could have saved me a lot of frustration if you had told me all that."
"Back then, I was too embarrassed to air the family's dirty linen. Even if I had, it wouldn't have changed things."
"That's right. I would have still been guilty only by association."
"Association?"
"Jackson Colton and I had lots in common, but not everything. He was — is — good at juggling women. I never had the ability or desire. I drove myself nuts thinking about you our entire senior year. About how if I could just get you to go out with me, you'd see we could be good together." He cupped her cheek, his dark eyes intense. "I'm asking again, Karen. I want you to give me a chance with you. This time, say yes."
Her mouth went dry and the ache in her belly transformed into a wide stretch of longing. Karen opened her mouth to give Nate her answer.…
"Say yes," Nate murmured again. His palm, cupped against Karen's cheek, felt as warm as the noonday sun that blazed overhead.
With desire flowing through her like heated wine, she leaned into him, savoring the sensation. She'd been waiting for him, she realized. Why else had she never felt a deep connection with any other man?
"Nate, I —" Suddenly, the crackle of Karen's handheld radio drowned out her words.
"We spotted the Cadillac!" the helicopter pilot advised. Seconds later, a sheriff's deputy radioed that he had the Caddy pulled over and the two suit-clad Nevada men in custody. He requested Nate's and Karen's presence at the scene to ID the suspects.
Karen bit back her frustration. "Duty calls."
Nate nodded. He held the door for Karen while she slid into the Mustang.
* * *
At the scene, they pulled in behind the deputy's cruiser. Karen and Nate confirmed that the two men in custody were the elusive Smith and Jones.
"Neither of them have stolen jewelry in their possession," the deputy reported while he extracted the handcuffed bartender from the backseat of Nate's Mustang. "No jewelry hidden in the Caddy, either."
Nate turned to Karen. "Maybe the sheriff will have better luck when he searches the wrecker service. There were a heck of a lot of purple bags in that safe."
The deputy turned to Karen and Nate. "The sheriff's at the wrecker service right now, serving the search warrant. Maybe he's about to find the stolen jewelry you're looking for."
"Let's hope." As she spoke, the breeze stirred the hem of her black dress around her calves while the sun turned her long hair a hundred shades of fiery red. It occurred to Nate that he'd never seen a more gorgeous woman. And never felt more frustrated over one.
* * *
The sheriff found just what Nate and Karen suspected he would. Hours later, the two of them sat at a table in the sheriff's office, signing reports. Before them lay hundreds of pieces of gleaming jewelry and loose stones, each nesting in a purple cloth bag. The priceless necklace, the Jewels of Allah, lay in the center of the table, its deep-green emeralds blazing beneath the room's lights.
The sheriff appeared, his severe buzz cut a contrast to his pleased look.
"One of the Nevada boys is singing like a choirboy. He's hoping to work a deal for a lighter sentence on the Vegas security guard's murder. According to our boy, a deputy sheriff in Reno runs the burglary ring. He's a cousin of Jimmy, the bartender at the Northern Pines Tavern. The deputy wanted to get the jewelry out of his jurisdiction fast, so Jimmy made weekly runs to Reno. He picked up the hot ice, and unloaded it at the wrecker service. Smith and Jones delivered the Jewels of Allah there today. The fence is holding all the jewelry for one seller who's coming into town tomorrow to make the purchase." The sheriff grinned. "We'll be waiting for him."
Nate looked at Karen. "Good work, Red. Looks like you got your man."
Karen nodded silently, an unspoken hope beginning to form in her thoughts.…
* * *
After turning in their reports, Nate and Karen stepped out into the warm afternoon. Mindful that she had yet to answer his question about their spending time together, she looked at Nate and spoke. "Since my undercover assignment is wrapped up, I'm heading back to Prosperino in the morning."
Nate walked with her to the passenger side of the Mustang. "That's my destination, too."
"I know." She leaned back against the car, regarding him. His dark eyes were intent, waiting. "Do you think it's fate that we'll both be in Prosperino again? At least until you go back to Dallas."
"Could be. Do they still have fires in Prosperino?"
"Last I heard. Hoping to do some off-duty arson investigating while you're there?"
"Maybe some on-duty investigating."
Her eyes widened. "Are you considering joining the Prosperino Fire Department?"
"That depends."
"On?"
"Two things. Lately, I've felt edgy. Discontent. Like my world has gotten out of sync. When I got the invitation to Joe Colton's birthday party, I decided to take some extra time off to find out why I've been feeling that way. This morning when we drove to the motel, it hit me how right it felt to be back in California. That maybe it's time for me to come home."
The possibility that Nate might move back to Prosperino had Karen's pulse thudding. "You said your coming back depends on two things. What's the other?"
"How you answer my question." He laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "I'm not your commitment-challenged father, Karen. I'm not Jackson Colton, who goes through women like a tornado. I'm steady. My whole life, I've only felt real passion for one woman. You."
He brushed his lips across hers. "The heavy crush I had on you during our senior year of high school turned out to be more. I fell in love with you. That was something I was sure I'd gotten over. Until last night when I walked into the tavern and saw you."
"Nate." She settled a hand against his cheek. "Will it make you feel better to know that I lost a lot of sleep over you, too, during that year?"
"Did you?"
"Yes. I wanted to accept each time you asked me out, but I was too afraid to risk my heart. Still, I knew there was something.…" Using her free hand, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, felt the steady beat of his pulse. "Today, when I saw Jimmy with a gun to your head, what always seemed so complicated became simple. I knew you had always been the man I needed in my life." Her lips curved. "It's about time you showed back up, Reno, so I could figure that out."
His thumb traced her lower lip. "That invitation to Joe Colton's 60th birthday party says I can bring a date."
Karen angled her chin, her green eyes glinting like the priceless emeralds they'd recovered. "Are you asking me out again, Inspector Reno?"
"Nothing gets past you, Detective Quinn. What do you say? Will you finally make my dreams come true and go out with me?"
Karen smiled. "Pick me up at seven, handsome."
The End