“Don’t try to seduce me.”

“Nothing’s further from my mind.” His gaze slid down her body and his amusement faded, replaced by something edgier. Something hungry, circling around her like that hawk he’d been watching.

Luce felt the impact of his perusal from her head to her toes. “Good. Because I’m not interested.”

She slid him a look to check his reaction. And Philip shot back a smile. A knowing smile that called her a liar louder than if he’d yelled the word at her.

“So tell me about the bounty hunting,” he said.

She waited for the telltale heat in her face to diminish. Then, because it was either that or do something really crazy like ask him to kiss her, she told him.

Anything to avoid talking about the loaded shotgun that was hovering there, big as life, between them.

A shotgun called desire.

Blue Jeans and a Badge

NINA BRUHNS

Books by Nina Bruhns

Silhouette Intimate Moments

Catch Me If You Can #990

Warrior’s Bride #1080

Sweet Revenge #1163

Sins of the Father #1209

Sweet Suspicion #1277

Ghost of a Chance #1319

Blue Jeans and a Badge #1361

NINA BRUHNS

credits her Gypsy great-grandfather for her great love of adventure. She has lived and traveled all over the world, including a six-year stint in Sweden. She has been on scientific expeditions from California to Spain to Egypt and The Sudan, and has two graduate degrees in archaeology (with a specialty in Egyptology). She speaks four languages and writes a mean hieroglyphics!

But Nina’s first love has always been writing. For her, writing for Silhouette Books is the ultimate adventure. Drawing on her many experiences gives her stories a colorful dimension, and allows her to create settings and characters out of the ordinary. She has won numerous awards for her previous titles, including the prestigious National Readers Choice Award, two Daphne DuMaurier Awards of Excellence for Overall Best Romantic Suspense of the year, five Dorothy Parker Awards and two Golden Heart Awards, among many others.

A native of Canada, Nina grew up in California and currently resides in Charleston, South Carolina, with her husband and three children.

She loves to hear from her readers, and can be reached at P.O. Box 2216, Summerville, SC, 29484-2216 or by e-mail via the Harlequin Web site at www.eHarlequin.com.

This book is dedicated to all my wonderful readers and loyal fans out there! Thanks for intrepidly following me into the strange and crazy stories in my head, from sultry Cajuns to spendthrift pirates.
I cherish every single one of you.
You are why I write. Thank you!
With love, Nina.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Chapter 1

April
Piñon Lake, New Mexico

This was almost too easy.

Peering through the chilly April New Mexico darkness, Luce Montgomery watched with satisfaction as the silhouette of a man emerged from the Tafota Salvage and Engine Repair Shop office in Piñon Lake, and glanced around before closing the door quietly behind him.

“Gotcha,” she whispered, flipped her ponytail behind her shoulder and fingered the Walther holstered at her hip. Why did they always go home? “Clyde, my man, you’re toast.”

It was all good. She pushed off the carcass of the burned-out ’79 Chevy she’d been leaning against and prepared to confront her quarry. Their stupidity made her job easier.

Clyde Tafota had been a very bad boy. He’d jumped bail. Though no one could figure out exactly why. He’d been involved in a cousin’s drug buy while on a visit to St. Louis during which two dealers were killed, but SLPD forensics had recently nailed down who did it—and it wasn’t Clyde. He was sure to be exonerated for the murders. So why had he run?

Luce didn’t care. Her job was to bring him back to St. Louis, period, for which she would be paid a nice chunk of change. Twenty percent of thirty-five grand, to be exact.

Illuminated by the bare bulb burning over the silent repair shop door, the man turned and quickly walked toward the yard where a black Jeep was parked in the driveway. She could see there was something in his hand, but it looked like paper, not a weapon.

Luce stepped out from the shadows, drawing her semi-automatic. “Stop right there, Clyde. You’re—”

Tafota looked up in surprise, and the paper flew out of his hand, skittering away on a breeze.

“Damn it!” he exclaimed, and took off after it, completely ignoring her.

With a single, succinct curse, she holstered the Walther and started to sprint, launching herself at him in a running dive just as he caught the paper.

They hit the dirt in a tangle of limbs, him with a loud “oof” and she with an expert roll so she landed sitting on his back, her gun once more out and pointed at his neck.

“I wouldn’t recommend trying that again, sport,” she drawled.

She really hated it when they ran.

“What the hell—” Clyde sounded mad.

Tough. “Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—” She moved her knee off a sharp rock and shifted back a few inches so she ended up straddling his butt…and was momentarily distracted by how nice he felt under her. His backside was firm, his thighs hard and muscular. She frowned. Tafota’s file had said he was an older guy, sixtyish, and in his mug shot he appeared downright skinny.

Her musings were interrupted when Clyde tried to turn over.

“Don’t move. You’re under arrest.”

“Really,” he said as she grabbed his arms and twisted them up behind his neck.

“Yeah, really. And I’ll take that.” She plucked the paper he was holding and stuck it in her windbreaker pocket, then snapped her handcuffs onto his wrists below his jeans jacket sleeves.

“Don’t lose that,” he admonished, but didn’t resist being restrained. They usually didn’t. Fleeing justice was an act of desperation an offender rarely thought would actually keep him out of jail. As a rule they came pretty quietly in the end.

“I won’t, Mr. Tafota. Now, if you’ll just—”

A low, rumbling chuckle interrupted her. “Tafota? I’m not Clyde. I’m—”

“Sure you’re not,” she went along good-humoredly. “That’s why you were sneaking out of Clyde’s office in the middle of the night. Because you’re not Clyde.”

“Check my ID,” he calmly suggested.

“I intend to.” That was always one of her first moves after cuffing a suspect. Wouldn’t do to get the wrong guy. But so far she’d never been wrong; she did her homework.

She pulled Clyde’s arrest sheet and a flashlight from her windbreaker and illuminated his mug shot. He looked just like she remembered. Unfortunately, this guy’s face was still in the dirt, impossible to see in the dark.

“It’s in my pocket.”

“What is?” She shone the flashlight at the side of his face that showed. Shortish black hair and a well-shaped ear. Inconclusive.

“My ID. It’s in my pocket.”

That might be easier than having him turn over. “All right. Hold still.”

She scooted back a smidgen and ran a hand over his jeans pockets, feeling for his wallet. But the only thing she felt was his tight male derriere. She felt again for good measure—for the wallet—trying not to enjoy it.

After a moment he cleared his throat. “Um, my front pocket.”

She lifted her hand and squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “Very funny, Clyde. I’m going to lift up and I want you to turn over. Slowly. Remember I have a gun.”

“So do I,” he said, and she swore she saw a flash of white teeth as he followed her instructions.

She almost groaned out loud. Hell. What was she thinking? Not searching first thing for weapons was a real rookie mistake. And she’d been in the bounty-hunting business for eight years, more than long enough to know better. This guy’s butt must really have scrambled her brains.

She shook her head to clear it and ordered herself to focus. She found his weapon tucked in a shoulder holster under his jacket. A Beretta .38. Which struck her as vaguely odd, since that was the kind of gun cops carried, not druggies or engine-repair-shop owners. She relieved him of it.

“Do I get a receipt for that?”

“A real comedian,” she muttered, and reached for his front pants pocket. “I’m getting your ID.”

That pocket was empty, so she switched hands and stuck her fingers into the other one.

He squirmed. And her fingers brushed against something that was definitely not a wallet.

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you enjoying yourself, sport?” she asked dryly.

She felt him shrug. “It’s not every day a man gets to lie on his back with a beautiful woman sitting on his lap.” His voice was strong and smooth, like a shot of good bourbon.

An involuntary shiver sifted through her body at the sound of it. She scowled. Attraction to a voice? That had never happened before. Especially with a skip.

“I am not beautiful,” she snapped. “And if this turns you on, you are one sick puppy.”

“Hey, I’m the one in handcuffs here, and you’re the one with your hand in my pocket,” the soft, gravelly voice pointed out.

She snatched her hand back and counted to ten. This recovery was not going at all as she’d planned.

“ID’s in my shirt pocket, by the way.”

She should know by now that when things seemed too easy, it was usually because fate was about to kick you in the—

No. She was not thinking about that particular bit of anatomy.

“Get it for me,” she ground out. “Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He lifted his head and brought his cuffed hands around to his front pocket, pulled out a thin wallet and handed it to her. “I just gotta warn you…”

“Yeah?” she asked, flipping it open.

“I’m, uh—”

“A cop?” she blurted out, staring incredulously at the badge and credentials revealed in the beam of her flashlight. “You’re a damn cop?”

“Philip O’Donnaugh, Piñon Lake Chief of Police, at your service.” He waited with a patient expression as she shone the flashlight in his face and compared it with the photo on his ID. Piñon Lake was the one-horse town she found herself in at the moment. Which meant this guy had jurisdiction here.

Oops.

“Satisfied?”

She nodded, so shocked by her monumental mistake that she was unprepared when he bent his knees up, tipping her flat onto his chest.

“Good,” he said as the flashlight went flying and she grabbed his shoulders to brace herself. “Because, sweetheart, you—” everything went topsy-turvy and suddenly she was on the bottom and he was sitting on her “—are busted.”

It took her a second to figure out what had just happened, and another to decide pulling her gun would probably be a bad idea. Under the circumstances. Even if she could get to it. Which she couldn’t. Because his tight butt was sitting right on her—

“Busted for what?” she croaked out. To distract herself from noticing anything else. Like how good he smelled—all woodsy and sagey like New Mexico.

She swallowed and tried not to breathe.

“We could start with assaulting an officer of the law,” he said conversationally as he pried her fingers from his shoulders and gathered both her wrists into one hand. It was a big hand. And strong. She thought about resisting but decided that wouldn’t be a good idea, either.

“You got a carry permit for that Walther?” he asked.

She found her voice. “In my car.”

“Okay, how ’bout false imprisonment?” He jangled the handcuffs still locked on his own wrists. “Key?”

“Windbreaker pocket. I’ll get it.”

After a moment’s hesitation he let one of her wrists go. “Be good,” he admonished as he lifted slightly.

“I’m always good,” she assured him, fetched the key and unlocked the cuffs, depositing them both back in her windbreaker pocket.

The ground was cold beneath her back, but his breath on her cheek felt warm. The moon must have risen, because she could just make out his features in the dim light. His dark eyes watched her with an inscrutable expression. His black hair was short, but not short enough to prevent a lock from falling over his forehead as he loomed over her, making him look broody and sexy instead of scary.

Her heart pounded inexplicably when he captured her wrist again and held it with the other above her head.

“Now what?” she asked. The position they were in reminded her a bit too much of other things. Inappropriate things.

He gave her a slow smile. “Now it’s my turn. To see some ID.”

Her lips parted as she realized she might not be the only one with a vivid imagination. “Don’t. Even. Think about it,” she said, alarmed. Not that she figured the Piñon Lake chief of police would try anything.

Or maybe she did, and what really alarmed her was the tingle of excitement purling through her veins.

“Think about what?”

“Anything.” She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “I’ll show you my ID. Just let me go,” she said in her firmest no-nonsense tone.

After a short hesitation, he dropped her wrists. A second later he rolled off her and leaped to his feet, leaving her suddenly freezing and not a little shaken.

“Take my hand,” he said, offering to help her up. Standing way up there, he looked like a dark, menacing two-legged skyscraper towering above her.

“I’m fine.”

She rose on her own, dusted herself off and fished her credentials from her back pocket with shaky fingers, along with her copy of the bond order.

In the meantime he’d located her flashlight on the ground and switched it on when she passed him her info. He scrutinized it thoroughly. “Bail enforcement officer?”

“That’s right.”

“Why didn’t you check in with my office?”

“My boss notified the county sheriff,” she said, grateful to be back to business.

“This is my jurisdiction.”

“Sorry. I’ll keep that in mind.” Who knew Podunk Lake had a police department?

“What are you doing in Piñon Lake?”

“Looking for Clyde Tafota,” she said, not letting the interrogation bother her. Professional questions she could handle. It was all that…other stuff she didn’t want to deal with. “I’ve been hired to return him to St. Louis for trial.”

O’Donnaugh glanced up in surprise. “Clyde was arrested?”

She nodded. “And skipped bail. We told the sheriff. You didn’t know?”

He peered at her in the growing moonlight. “No, I didn’t. I’m looking for him myself.”

It was her turn to be surprised. She’d assumed Clyde had bolted for home, but if he was wanted by the law here, too, that could change everything. “For what?”

O’Donnaugh regarded her for a brief moment. “Not to arrest him. He’s a potential witness to a robbery in Piñon Lake village. What did he do in St. Louis?”

“Probably nothing,” she admitted, and explained about the drug dealers being murdered and the forensics that had subsequently cleared him. “But he still needs to come back for trial even if the murder charge will be dismissed.”

O’Donnaugh nodded consideringly. “Yeah. This complicates things.”

“For both of us,” she muttered. “I was hoping this job would be a slam-dunk.”

“Anxious to be out of here so soon?” he asked. His tone was casual, but in it she thought she detected the barest edge of suggestion.

Best nip that one in the bud. The man might have a sexy-as-hell voice and a backside to match, but she wasn’t interested. She was here on a job and not looking for company.

“Out-of-Here is my middle name, Chief O’Donnaugh,” she stated.

“Call me Philip.”

“Speaking of which…” She handed him his Beretta. “It’s been fun, but I’ve got work to do. See ya ’round, Chief.”

With that she gave him a wave and walked off to her car, not waiting for a response. Better that way. Who knew what might happen if he actually made her an indecent proposal. The way her hormones were misbehaving, she might be tempted to take him up on it.

Which would be stupid. And unprofessional. Not to mention totally out of character.

Luce Montgomery wasn’t into casual sex. Nor was she looking for a man.

And, sexy or no, this man was no exception.

Handcuffs and sweaty sex.

It should have been great. But every time they got to the good part, Clyde Tafota would walk by and they’d have to jump up and chase after him. So instead of waking up with a big, satisfied grin, Philip awoke at 5:00 a.m. the next morning scowling, frustrated and grumpy as a spring bear.

After forcing down pancakes and three cups of Betsy’s coffee at the Shamrock Slipper, he headed to the old Western-style storefront on Main Street that served as the Piñon Lake Police Station and poured his frustrations into an Internet search to find out everything he could about the woman who had kept him up most of the night.

Well, certain parts of him, anyway.

Which was a little strange, because he hadn’t really gotten a good look at her last night. Her body had been dynamite, and had thoroughly ignited his starving libido. But he’d only had short glimpses of her face and a blond ponytail in the distorted light of a flashlight beam and the vaguest outline of her features in the moonlight. She could be ugly as a three-legged coyote for all he knew.

The first thing he did was get a copy of her driver’s license from the Missouri DMV.

She wasn’t ugly. Not even close.

And his curiosity about her increased with every new bit of info he turned up.

By 8:00 a.m. when it was time for his morning rounds, he’d printed out a stack of articles gathered from various newspapers around the country that mentioned Luce Montgomery’s exploits as a bounty hunter, as well as copies of old bail enforcement extradition orders filed at a dozen or more county courts naming her as the retrieval agent on as many cases. And those were just the big ones.

Quite an impressive career.

A few of the tricks she’d used to get past unsuspecting accomplices had been ingenious. His personal favorite was the IRS inspector. As if anyone in their right mind would believe the IRS would personally deliver a $5,000 refund because of an error they’d made. If he weren’t so annoyed with her for blowing him off last night he might have smiled. He didn’t.

It’s not that he couldn’t handle rejection. Hell, in his lifetime he’d handled it in spades. Being jilted for another guy in front of half the state made a man either bitter or philosophical about rejection. Philip had long since gotten past the bitter stage.

But last night, he was absolutely convinced the sexy bounty hunter had wanted him as much as he wanted her. What was it about him that always made the women he wanted back off and run away?

Hold on, there, O’Donnaugh. Self-pity? On second thought, maybe he still was just a little bitter.

He logged off the computer in disgust.

And twiddled his thumbs for ten minutes, trying to decide what to do about the intriguing Ms. Montgomery.

To pursue or not to pursue, that was the question….

It wasn’t sex he wanted.

Okay, it wasn’t just sex he wanted.

Sure, she had a body that wouldn’t quit and obviously wasn’t afraid to use it, but besides that she was brainy, sassy and confident—everything he liked in a woman. Pure and simple, she had caught his fancy. He wanted to get to know her better.

Too bad he hadn’t noticed any backward glances as she’d strolled off last night. Apparently, the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Well, he thought, rising to his feet and grabbing his keys. They’d just see about that.

It shouldn’t take long to find her. There was only one place to stay in the village: the Lakeview Motel. April wasn’t exactly tourist season so there would be plenty of rooms available, and Philip didn’t figure Luce for the prissy type who would insist on staying down the mountain at some four-star palace in Taos or Santa Fe.

He was right. Dodge Broomfield, owner of the Lakeview and its sole employee except for the busy summer and ski months, jerked a thumb down the row of sagging adobe bungalows. “She’s in room 953.”

Philip did his best not to react to the room number. He’d made that mistake once. The Lakeview had fifteen rooms at best, but all fifteen doors boasted three-digit numbers. None in any kind of order. But Dodge was kind of sensitive if you ribbed him about it. Or even mentioned it.

“Thanks, Dodge.”

“You goin’ to arrest her?”

“No, Dodge.”

“Then what are you goin’ to do with her? I run a decent establishment here, you know.”

“Sure, Dodge.” Everyone on the hill knew the Lakeview Motel was no more decent than it had to be. Him included.

Philip slapped the old gaffer on the back and sauntered down to Luce’s door and knocked loudly. When no one appeared, he knocked again.

“Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on!” Luce’s voice boomed back at him, the volume growing with each word, along with her footsteps.

The door flung open so hard the 9 in the 953 flipped down into a 6.

She stared at him for the full thirty seconds it took for him to remember how to breathe again.

She was fresh from the shower, her face rosy and dewy from the steam, her pale hair damp and glistening in a pile of curls on her head, secured with one of those claw things. She was wearing an overly fluffy black robe that said You’re Hired on the front breast in big red embroidered letters. Well, wearing was perhaps an exaggeration. It had obviously been hastily thrown on. The belt hung loose and she was clutching the lapels together with her right hand.

Ho, boy.

“Chief O’Donnaugh. What can I do for you?”

Ho, boy.

He barely resisted the urge to stick out his hand and make her shake it. Not that she’d fall for that. Still, it might be worth a—

Damn. Get it together, O’Donnaugh.

“Please, call me Philip,” he said, striving desperately for a calm, professional air. And striving desperately not to look below her chin. “I have a proposition—” Her brow arched. “That is…” He pulled at the collar of his khaki uniform shirt. Had it suddenly gotten hotter? “I mean, can I have a word with you? About Clyde Tafota.”

She raised a finger to the door panel and deliberately slid the 6 back up into a 9, pressing it into place. “Why?” she asked.

The question threw him. “Why? Because…because…I’d like your help.”

Both brows arched. “That has to be a first. A cop asking a bounty hunter for help.”

Her hand had slipped down the robe a few inches, so he could see the lush slopes of her breasts beneath the cloth. His mouth went dry. They were gorgeous.

With difficulty he forced his eyes back to hers. “I figure if we work together, it could be mutually beneficial.”

She gazed at him like she could read every thought going through his mind. She shook her head. “Sorry, I prefer to work solo.”

She started to close the door, so he stuck the flat of his boot up against it. Surprise skittered across her face.

“Just hear me out, Luce.”

He knew he should remove the boot and act civilized, but took perverse pleasure in not doing so. Two could play this game of cat and mouse. “Listen, I’m here about finding Clyde. Nothing else.”

Her expression turned skeptical. “Is that so.” With maybe a little anger thrown in for good measure.

“Yeah. It is.”

“Get your boot off my door and I’ll think about it.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

She pushed out a sharp breath, then let the door go so it opened wide. He adjusted his stance and they stood there like a couple of gunslingers contemplating the odds—him in his cop gear carrying a loaded gun under his arm and a knife in his boot, she in her birthday suit and a fluffy robe.

He wasn’t sure who had the biggest advantage, but he had a sinking feeling it wasn’t him.

It took all his strength not to back down.

He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t, either. But she did gather her robe tighter and tip her head defiantly to the side.

“All right then, talk.”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked, deadpan.

“No.”

“Doesn’t bother me, but you must be getting cold.” He indicated her bare legs and feet. The temperature wasn’t below freezing, but it had to be close this early in the morning.

Abruptly she turned and paced into the room. “Fine.”

She headed right for the bathroom, picking up a few articles of clothing on her way, and closed the bathroom door with a smack.

He removed his Stetson, stepped through the front door and glanced around.

He’d spent the occasional night at the Lakeview, and every one of the rooms looked identical. Neat, clean and spartan, with hand-framed prints from old Arizona Highways as the only decor. Luce’s suitcase and a briefcase stood in the open closet, a purse and cell phone were tossed on the dresser along with an untouched six-pack of Diet Rite Cola. He wondered briefly where she kept her gun.

He tried to avoid looking at the bed, but couldn’t help himself. It was big and rumpled, sheets strewn every which way as though she’d spent a restless night. Or— He glanced around again, looking for signs she’d been entertaining.

Thankfully he found none. But that didn’t stop the sudden slash of queasy pain in his gut at the memory of a time he’d walked in on a woman he was involved with a few years back. She had been entertaining. And he’d been hurt. Real hurt.

That was the last time he’d let himself become vulnerable with a woman. Since then, he’d been very careful about who he let into his life and for how long. He’d do well to remember that painful lesson.

Recalling the incident put a real damper on his mood. Come to think of it, Luce Montgomery reminded him a little of that other woman. They were both smart, blond and didn’t like to be tied down. Maybe that’s why he was so fascinated by Luce. That fatal-attraction thing.

Not good.

Better watch himself with this one. The last thing he needed was a repeat performance of that disaster.

He strode to the window and gazed down at the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains and the stark landscape beyond that stretched below the town like a bold painting. The views in this state never ceased to take his breath away. Greens and oranges, browns, purples and blues combined in ways like no place else.

“Okay,” Luce said from behind him, startling him back to the present. “I’m listening.”

He turned. She’d changed into tight jeans and a turquoise turtleneck that revealed every curve beneath it. A pair of woolly socks hid her feet. Her long, blond ponytail flowed over her shoulder like a mountain stream, her face fresh and unadorned except for a touch of mascara. Every inch of her body was covered and she was practically devoid of makeup, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman look so sexy.

Or maybe it was just this particular woman would look sexy no matter what she was wearing or not wearing.

Man, was he in trouble. Luce Montgomery was not a woman he should get involved with in any way, shape or form. She was too risky. Too dangerous to his peace of mind. Too perilous for his heart.

What had seemed like a good idea a half hour ago suddenly took on the proportions of a major miscalculation.

All those thoughts flashed through his mind as she returned his stare, her cheeks getting redder and redder by the second.

He took a deep breath. See there? She was as freaked out as he was.

He could handle this. He could handle her.

No problem.

He let out the breath, praying he wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

“I think I know where to find Clyde Tafota,” he said gruffly, sliding his Stetson back on his head. “Let’s go pick him up together.”

Chapter 2

Luce had no clue how she had let herself be talked into this insane excursion.

Oh, the idea of checking out the Jicarilla Apache Reservation where Clyde’s people lived was a good one. Families and friends were always a useful source of information, even if Clyde himself didn’t turn out to be there.

It was the part where she had to share the confines of a small two-seater Jeep for hours on end with Philip O’Donnaugh…that was the crazy part. They’d already been driving over two hours and they hadn’t even gotten to the reservation. New Mexico was one big state.

Chief O’Donnaugh was big, too. Too big. He hogged up all the space in the tiny vehicle with his long legs and broad shoulders. She had to be constantly on guard against bumping up against him as they sped along the road. Every time he shifted gears she had to move her knee so his knuckles wouldn’t brush it. He was making an attempt to hide his attraction, but she’d seen the way he’d looked at her back at the hotel—all bedroom eyes and hot blood. The atmosphere in the Jeep was thick with awareness. She could barely get enough air to breathe without running into his damned pheromones.

“Almost there,” Philip remarked, jerking her out of her unsettling thoughts.

“Yeah?” She reluctantly turned to him.

She didn’t know why the police chief unnerved her so. He was just a man. She’d brought down a dozen men as big or bigger than he was. Slapped them in handcuffs and hustled them back to jail without blinking.

“Let’s start at the tribal police in Dulce. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t look at him without wondering what he tasted like, or shivering at the memory of his hard body rolling her on her back and his gravelly voice whispering in the dark, “Now it’s my turn.”

It didn’t help, either, that he had a pair of handcuffs dangling provocatively from his rearview mirror. Lord, the images that provoked.

She jetted out a breath. She had to get a grip.

“What?” he asked.

“Just anxious to get out of this Jeep,” she mumbled. “Think we’ll find Clyde?”

Philip shrugged. “The rez is a tight community. Outsiders are always suspect, and residents don’t give up info on one of their own. I’m hoping the news that he’s in the clear for the murders will flush him out.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll have to try something else.”

The whole thing sounded like a long shot, but since Clyde’s sister lived on the rez, Luce would definitely have ended up coming out and poking around anyway. So what the heck.

Philip pulled into the parking lot of the Jicarilla Apache Tribal Police when they finally reached the small, dusty community of Dulce, the only town on the reservation according to the map.

Inside the station they were ushered into the office of the duty sergeant. Luce listened while Philip talked. And tried not to frown when he spilled the same story to the sergeant that he’d told her on the drive up.

In her profession, she never gave away any information she didn’t absolutely have to.

“The Soffit and Dickson Law Office in Piñon Lake was robbed of a large amount of cash on Thursday night,” Philip explained to the sergeant. “According to Dickson’s secretary, Clyde Tafota was the last appointment before closing, but she left for home before he came out. I’m hoping he saw someone go into the building after him, or remembers a parked vehicle or something.”

“So he’s not a suspect?”

Philip shook his head. “I’m holding a man named Jim Kendall based on some circumstantial evidence, but it’s weak. The secretary is his sister, and she swears he’s innocent.”

“And you’re hoping Tafota will tip the scales one way or the other.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him out this way for a few months, myself. But Lieutenant Clay Pipe is the one to talk to. His aunt is best friends with Donna Tafota, Clyde’s sister, and he might know something.”

That sounded promising, Luce thought.

“He around?” Philip asked.

“It’s his day off but he’s probably down at the feed at the Munoz’s spread. Their son’s back from the Middle East on leave. A Marine.”

“So everyone’s there.”

“Everyone who’s not working.”

“What’s a feed?” Luce asked when they were back in the Jeep heading south on Highway 537, following the sergeant’s directions to Clyde’s place. They wanted to check that out before trying the Munoz’s, which was still farther south.

“Sort of like a barbecue. Big gathering with lots of food and usually dancing and stories.”

“A party?”

“Sometimes it’s for a happy occasion, sometimes it’s solemn, sometimes ceremonial or even political.”

She tipped her head. “You seem to know a lot about this stuff.”

“I grew up in California surrounded by Indian reservations. Had a lot of Paiute friends.”

“California?” She glanced at him in surprise. “You’re not from this area?”

He shook his head. “Moved here a few years back.”

“What brought you to Piñon Lake?”

He slid her a lopsided grin. “I lost a poker game.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You lost the game?”

His chuckle was expressive, drawing her in. “I was traveling around and dropped in on a friend of mine from the Taos County Sheriff’s Department. One night we got into a game with some of the local suits. My friend was yakking about my background when one of them offers me a job as Piñon Lake police chief. I just laughed.”

“You didn’t want the job?”

“I didn’t want any job. Especially as a cop.”

His brief tone of distaste surprised her. But before she could ask about it, he went on.

“Anyway, we played for a few more hours and I was running low on chips when the same guy raises the bet by some ridiculous amount. We were the last two in, and I had a pretty good hand so I was ticked. You can probably guess what came next.”

She grinned. “He said he’d accept your services as police chief in lieu of money.”

“You got it.”

“And you lost the hand.”

“Yep.”

She laughed out loud. “Sounds to me like the California boy got shanghaied.”

“You think?”

“How long they stick you for?”

“Just a year. But I liked it so much I stayed on.” He shrugged. “The pay’s crap but it’s exactly what I needed.”

She glanced through the windshield at the stark, spectacular scenery. Soaring purple mountains slashed with amazing red formations were covered by towering green forests that melted into the sepia-and-orange sands of the desert. In the distance a river sparkled like a winding blue-gold ribbon, cutting a swath through everything in its path. She was more of an urban gal herself, but this wilderness would be paradise to a rugged outdoorsy type like Philip.

“Yes, I can see the appeal.”

But on a deeper level, she wondered. About why O’Donnaugh would be “traveling around” with no desire for a job. About what kind of “background” he had that would prompt an offer to be police chief of anywhere. About what a man like him needed so badly that was satisfied by hiding out in a town of three hundred permanent residents smack in the middle of nowhere.

Interesting.

Not that she gave a fig about Philip O’Donnaugh or the devils that drove him, she reminded herself.

All she wanted was to find Clyde Tafota and beat it back to St. Louis as soon as humanly possible. She had a retrieval fee to collect and a P.I. business to open. After eight years on someone else’s payroll, she now had the skills to branch out into more than bounty hunting. She wanted to become her own boss, and this was the paycheck that would put her savings account over the magic number she needed to do that.

“Looks like this might be the right road,” Philip said, turning off the highway. There hadn’t been a single road sign since Dulce, and the directions the sergeant had given to Donna Tafota’s place were sketchy at best, so it was hard to tell.

The dirt track meandered through the Ponderosa pine forest eventually emerging into a small valley. Luce wound the window down all the way and filled her lungs with crisp mountain air.

She loved the smell of New Mexico. She’d noticed it the moment she’d opened her car door after arriving yesterday. It smelled wild and fresh, like juniper and sage and wildflowers and ancient earth, all mixed up in one unique scent. There was something exotic about that smell, and at the same time strangely soothing and somehow familiar.

Which of course was crazy since she’d never stepped foot in New Mexico before. The only reason she was here now was because of her boss, Arthur’s, warped sense of humor. Luce collected Santas. As in Santa Claus. She was the first to admit that her collection, started at the tender age of four and encouraged by a doting adoptive mom, had gotten a little out of control. She must have more than two hundred figures and depictions of various sizes, shapes and origins. For some reason she’d always been a sucker for the jolly old grandfather in the red suit. Anyway, Arthur thought the whole concept of relentless, workaholic, take-no-prisoners Luce having a tender spot for the warm, fuzzy icon was hilarious. So he took special delight in assigning her all skip-trace jobs involving any place name that had the word Santa in it.

Santa Fe was the capital of New Mexico, and that was good enough for Arthur. She couldn’t help but smile. She loved her job, and Arthur was one of the main reasons why.

But she would love it even more when she could hire him for jobs, instead of the other way around.

“What do you think?” Philip asked when they reached the end of the road.

Luce studied the group of three white structures that nestled together in a glade of shade trees bordered by a small brook.

She shook her head. “I thought he said the sister’s house was pink adobe. And I don’t remember anything about a stream.”

“I was afraid of that.”

Philip pulled into a dirt parking area containing a couple of old trucks and a new Honda sedan. As soon as he turned off the engine they were surrounded by a trio of barking dogs, but their tails were wagging and they looked friendly enough.

The man who emerged onto the porch of the main house looked less so. Philip wasn’t armed—having stowed both their weapons earlier in a strong box hidden in the back bench seat—and as cop cars went, his Jeep wasn’t all that imposing. Unadorned black with a rack of red and blue lights on the roof, a siren, and a police-band two-way radio. But that and his uniform shirt were plenty to put people on their guard, including this guy.

“Can I help you, Officer?” the man asked, approaching Philip’s side.

He had the slow, proud, rolling gait and windblown wrinkles of a man who’d worked outdoors all his life, along with the bronze skin and long, pulled-back hair of a traditional Indian man.

Luce decided to let Philip do the talking yet again. She didn’t mind. It was actually kind of nice letting someone else do all the work for a change. Besides, she didn’t want anyone here knowing she was a bounty hunter. Nothing would drive Clyde underground faster.

“Morning, sir,” Philip said, sliding from the vehicle. He identified himself thoroughly and showed his credentials. “I was hoping you might help me. I’m looking for Clyde Tafota. I understand his sister lives around here?”

The man looked assessingly at him for a long moment, then slid his gaze to Luce, no doubt taking their measure, deciding how much he should say. Luce gave him a smile.

“Her place is farther south. Down the highway,” he finally said in a pleasant sing-song.

Philip nodded, and turned unhurriedly to gaze at the mountains, then watched a large bird of prey circle lazily above them. “Beautiful land,” he said after a while.

Luce shifted in her seat, wondering what the heck Philip was up to. It was getting hot in the Jeep. She pulled at her turtleneck.

The old man didn’t comment, but also gazed up at the peaks, his eyes smiling. The two of them stood looking for a few more minutes in silence, then Philip turned back to him and indicated the man’s vest.

“Nice beadwork. You ever use porcupine quills?”

The old man’s expression didn’t change. “Not so much anymore.”

Luce knew the sale of porcupine quills was illegal, with a few exceptions for Native Americans, so she was puzzled by Philip’s line of questioning.

“I had a tourist run over one a while back,” he said to the old man. “Still have some quills.” He strolled to the Jeep and leaned into the back seat, giving her a wink as he did so.

“What’s this all about?” she whispered.

“Respect,” he said, smiling over at her. “Thanks for letting me handle it.”

“No problem.” She didn’t have a clue, anyway.

Flipping up the bench top, he gathered a handful of long, elegant quills from a tackle box sitting next to the strong box and returned to the old guy. “Figure you could use them more than I can,” he said, and poured them into his hand. “Thanks for the info.”

Then he slid back into the Jeep and revved it up. Just before pulling out, he stuck his head out the window and asked, “By the way, have you seen Clyde since last Thursday?”

The man looked down at the quills on his palm, then closed his hand over them. “No,” he answered.

Philip nodded. “Well, if you do, can you tell him he’s been cleared of that mess in St. Louis? He just needs to turn himself in and it’ll go away.” Then he wheeled the Jeep around and headed back toward the highway.

Suddenly everything he’d done made sense.

Luce was impressed.

“Nice work,” she said. “Using the native telegraph to tip off Clyde that he’s been cleared.”

He gave her another wink. “I’m betting by the time we find his sister’s place he’ll already have heard, so he won’t be afraid to show himself.”

“And come with us willingly.” She nodded. “Pretty smart, O’Donnaugh.”

His shoulder lifted. “My dad taught me respect gets you a lot farther in this business than strong-arm tactics. You would have done the same thing.”

“We bounty hunters can’t afford to be so subtle. Drawn guns and handcuffs are the respect we count on.”

He chuckled. “Funny, I don’t remember anything about guns the time you pretended to be an IRS agent.”

She glanced over at him, jaw dropping. “How do you know about that?”

“I do my research. I know a lot about you.”

She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. The thought of him digging through her life made her nervous. Not that she had anything to hide. But why would he want to know?

“The only thing I don’t get,” he continued conversationally, “is what made you choose bounty hunting in the first place. That’s not the sort of work women usually go in for. Especially ones with straight As in school.”

“I like kicking men’s butts,” she said tartly. It was her stock answer. It shut most people right up about the topic. Especially if they were male.

“Tough girl, eh? What made you hate men so much?”

Unfortunately, she was beginning to realize Philip wasn’t most people.

She suppressed a sigh. She didn’t like going into all this. Nobody ever understood it wasn’t the danger that drew her, but the restless need the job fulfilled within her. Always searching for something that was always just out of reach. She wasn’t sure what she was searching for, but it was like a compulsion within her, the search.

She’d know what it was when she found it.

She hoped.

“I don’t hate men,” she said. That much was true. She liked men as much as the next female. Possibly more. It was just…complicated. “And I’m not a girl.”

He shot her an amused glance. “Woman, then.” His gaze slid down her body and his amusement faded, replaced by something edgier. Something hungry, circling around her like that hawk he’d been watching. “Definitely woman.”

“Don’t,” she murmured, feeling the impact of his perusal from her head to her toes. Remembering the look in his eyes from the motel room that morning.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to seduce me.”

He regarded her for a moment, then said, “Nothing’s further from my mind.”

Yeah, right. She mustered a determined tone and stated, “Good. Because I’m not interested.”

She slid him a look to check his reaction. And he shot back a smile. A knowing smile that called her a liar louder than if he’d yelled the word at her.

“So, tell me about the bounty hunting,” he said, as though he hadn’t just exposed her for a complete fraud.

She fought back the spiraling feeling of panic in her stomach and waited for the tell-tale heat in her face to diminish. Then, because it was either that or do something really crazy like ask him to kiss her, she told him the long, detailed history of how she’d become a bounty hunter. About gun safety classes and target shooting with her dad from the time she could walk; about seeing a wanted poster at the post office her senior year and out of the blue spotting the guy the next week at a department store and contacting security to report it; about getting a substantial reward along with job offers from six different bail bond outfits the day after graduation. She even touched briefly on the unrelenting restlessness in her soul that the ever-moving, ever-exciting job kept in check.

Anything to avoid talking about the loaded shotgun that was hovering there, big as life between them.

A shotgun called desire.

Things were not going well.

After jostling up and down the third unmarked dirt track with no success, Philip pulled off the highway and banged his fist onto the steering wheel in frustration. Frustration over not being able to concentrate on finding the right road because all he could think about was the woman sitting next to him.

A swearword escaped his lips. “They all look alike.”

Luce chuckled. “Maybe you should have given the old guy more quills.” He scowled over at her. “Relax,” she said. “We’ll find it.”

“Sometime this century, I hope,” he muttered, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. Over the past four hours the temperature must have climbed thirty-five degrees.

And that wasn’t even counting the extra twenty or so jacked up by the chemistry sparking between him and Luce.

She started to laugh.

Philip stared at her, his irritation increasing exponentially with the duration of her laughter. She just laughed even harder.

“Oh, lighten up, O’Donnaugh! Look around you!” She popped off her seat belt and jumped out of the Jeep, twirling around with her arms in the air. “The view’s gorgeous and the weather’s perfect!”

Philip leaned back in his seat, tipped his hat up and watched her as she shaded her eyes and took in the scenery with a spellbound look on her face. Slowly his annoyance evaporated.

He had to admit, the view was gorgeous. Luce’s turquoise turtleneck fit her upper body like a glove, showing off her generous curves and highlighting her golden hair to perfection. He couldn’t see much of her jeans below the hood of the Jeep, but what he could see made his mouth water.

She sure was pretty. Maybe not a beauty queen, but to him her face was all the more appealing for being natural and bright, glowing with confidence, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Damn shame she didn’t care to explore their potent attraction. He felt instinctively it could be something real special.

On the other hand, he wasn’t looking for special. Certainly not with a woman only in town temporarily. He was just getting back on his feet after the fiasco in California, and definitely didn’t need another woman turning his life upside down. Been there, done that.

No, thanks.

He climbed out of the Jeep and pulled his uniform shirt over his head. After wiping the sweat from his face and the back of his neck with it, he threw it on the back bench seat. Fortunately he’d worn a PLPD T-shirt under it, black cotton with a gold embroidered badge on the chest. It was a lot cooler, and maybe the casual image it projected would make people open up more when he and Luce actually found the damned place.

“Hey, no fair.”

He glanced up to see her giving his chest the once-over. She seemed to be enjoying the view, too.

Hmm. How upside down could things get in only a few days? He should be safe enough. If he could just talk her into taking a closer look at that view.

He grinned. “What’s wrong? Didn’t bring a T-shirt?”

“Of course I brought one. But there’s nowhere to change.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Don’t be shy on my account.”

“In your dreams, O’Donnaugh.”

She had no idea.

“Call me Philip,” he told her for about the fifth time. “Since we’re undressing together and all.”

She wagged her finger at him. “I’m not undressing.”

“It’ll probably be eighty-five degrees out by noon,” he warned.

“I’ll live.”

He climbed back in the Jeep with her, suddenly in a better mood. She was right. It was a beautiful day. Why not enjoy it, and her, instead of stressing out about things he had no control over? He’d done that for eleven years back in California and look where it had landed him.

They’d find the right turnoff sooner or later. In the meantime, he should kick back and take pleasure in his surroundings. There were worse things than driving around in spectacular country with a sexy woman by your side. He just had to keep it all in perspective.

The next road he tried was the right one.

His police vehicle didn’t even cause a ripple in the large crowd when he pulled up to the Munoz place and parked next to a truck bearing the tribal police emblem. The old man had done his job well.

People were everywhere, on the wraparound porch of the ranch-style house chatting, beside the garage where a basketball hoop was being attacked by a bunch of young men, around back where a fire pit burned and long tables had been set up, children running back and forth with dogs and a Frisbee. Men sat around the tables talking, and women strolled back and forth with dishes and babies. A few looked up, but most just continued what they were doing.

Before he and Luce had climbed out of the Jeep, a tall, lanky man wearing a brown uniform walked over to them. He had hair past his shoulder blades in the style of a younger Indian man but the piercing black eyes of a seasoned veteran who’d been around the block a few times.

“You must be the Piñon Lake cops,” he said.

“That’s right,” Philip responded.

“Not me.” Next to him, Luce sent the officer a brilliant smile. The policeman’s brow hiked.

What the hell was she up to? Philip put out his hand and introduced himself to prevent questions.

“Lieutenant Joseph Clay Pipe,” the tribal officer replied. “Friends call me Joseph. You’re looking for Clyde Tafota?”

“Just a few questions I’d like to ask him,” Philip said.

“And the lady?”

“I’m only along for the ride.” She casually took hold of Philip’s arm with both hands. Like she belonged there. And beamed up at him. “I’m visiting from out of town.”

What did she mean by that? Philip froze, taken aback by the implications of her improvised strategy. What was he supposed to do now? Act like her boyfriend?

“Mixing a little business with pleasure, eh?” Joseph said with a nod of masculine approval.

“Doing my best,” Philip managed, shifting mental gears fast.

Well, nothing ventured nothing gained, eh?

All at once the day got a whole lot more interesting.

Reaching over, he tucked a windblown lock of Luce’s hair behind her ear. And beamed back.

Her eyes flared and he saw exactly when she realized she’d made a tactical error. A big one. She tried to step away from him, but he was quicker, putting his hand over hers on his arm. Holding her there.

She tugged at her hand. “Um, listen, um, Philip…while you talk to the lieutenant, I think I’ll look for somewhere to change out of this turtleneck. I’m boiling.”

Well, well. She’d finally used his first name. He figured that called for a celebration.

He gave her a lazy smile. “Sure thing, sweetheart. How about a kiss before you go?”

To her credit, the only way he knew she was worried was from the way she wrenched one hand from his grip. That and the gritted teeth beneath the “kiss this” smile she flashed him just before she poked him in the chest.

“You forget, you’re on duty, Chief O’Donnaugh,” she said sweetly.

He grinned and watched her scamper off into the crowd, pausing next to a group of ladies with casserole dishes, presumably to ask where she could change.

“Your woman’s quite a handful,” Joseph remarked, but there was approval in his voice.

A wad of emotions tumbled through Philip. Emotions he couldn’t begin to analyze. Or even want to. Jealousy first, followed quickly by denial. “She’s a handful, all right. But she’s not my woman.”

The corners of Joseph’s mouth curled up. “Then you won’t mind if I ask her to sit with me at the meal?”

Philip pursed his lips in an effort to appear indifferent, when in reality he suddenly wanted to flatten the guy.

“I thought so,” Joseph said neutrally, seeing right through his mask. He put a comradely hand on his shoulder. “Ah, well. She wouldn’t say yes, anyway.”

Philip was careful to keep his tone light and pleasant. “How do you know that? You can see the future?”

But suddenly he knew he would flatten the guy if he dared ask her to sit with him.

Luce was his.

And Philip had no intention of sharing.

“The future? I’m no medicine man,” Joseph said, slapping him on the back. “But I don’t need any magic to see she’s your woman.”

Joseph beckoned him to follow, heading for the backyard.

“Oh?” Philip said skeptically, trailing after. “And how’s that?”

“Simple. I saw the way she looked at you.”

Chapter 3

The man was obviously nuts. Or needed glasses.

“Right,” Philip mumbled. Time to change the subject back to what he was there for. “So, I was—”

“Make yourself at home,” Joseph interrupted as they approached a group of men lounging under a large oak tree drinking coffee and pop. Philip was introduced and a chair produced for him. Someone handed him an icy can of soda.

Correction: time to relax and blend in. In this world, he reminded himself, things came to those who waited. Impatience got you nowhere fast. He’d sown the seeds with the old man, now he just had to sit back and watch them grow. Eventually they’d bear fruit.

The men tentatively accepted him into their conversation, keeping the topics neutral while subtly testing him. He’d been around enough Indian humor to know when he was being teased, so he good-naturedly played straight man, and was even able to surprise them into laughter by resurrecting some old Paiute jokes he knew and giving them the Irish slant of his own ancestry. By the time their host rang the cook’s triangle an hour or two later signaling the blessing of the meal, Philip felt he was among friends.

He rose with the other men and strolled over to the tables where Luce was standing with the women. He’d kept an eye on her the whole time, in case she’d been ill at ease or looked as if she needed help. Naturally she hadn’t. What she had done was a lot of listening. She’d helped the young women cook, and with a smile endured the children’s curiosity and constant touching of her yellow hair, all the while doing very little talking of her own. She’d even sat on a blanket in a circle of old women for nearly an hour, listening to their stories.

Philip should have known she’d be fine. It was no wonder she was so good at her job. Her ability to fit in and adapt was obvious.

He was also dying to know if she’d come up with anything on Clyde Tafota. He hoped she’d had better luck than he had.

He’d shied away from the subject of Clyde with the men until Joseph had brought it up for him. It turned out none of them had seen Clyde since Thursday, nor had his sister, according to Joseph. By that time in the conversation Philip believed they were all being on the level. He’d handed around his card with both office and cell phone numbers listed so they or Clyde could get in touch if he showed up.

Which left the Soffit and Dickson robbery investigation just about the same place it had been this morning. Nowhere.

He went up to Luce and stood shoulder to shoulder with her. Barely touching. Just reaffirming their connection.

A hint of her perfume drifted in the air around him, and he couldn’t resist turning his head to get his nose closer. His body already recognized Luce’s own feminine scent underlying the perfume. She looked up.

“How’s it going?” he asked, taking in the sight of her in the top she’d changed into earlier. It wasn’t a T-shirt, but a more feminine style with a lower neckline and shorter sleeves. And it hugged her curves a whole lot better.

“Great. You?”

Damn, she looked good. “Real good.”

“Find out anything interesting?” she asked quietly, pulling him back to business.

He shook his head. “Not really. You?”

“Maybe.”

“Like what?”

“Later. Have you talked to Donna Tafota?”

“No. You?”

“Didn’t get the chance.” She lifted her chin at a woman standing on the other side of the table. “That’s her.”

The blessing started, so they bowed their heads with the others, after which they clapped for a seemingly endless litany of welcome-home-Marine speeches for the prodigal Munoz son, until the kid finally burst out, “Hey, enough already! I’m starving!” and they all sat down at the long tables to eat.

Philip was careful to position himself and Luce right across from Donna Tafota.

“I understand you are looking for my brother,” the fiftyish woman said after everyone had filled their plates. She had a square face with kind brown eyes, and a long black braid that hung to her waist.

“I just want to talk to him, Miz Tafota,” he told her, digging into the delicious meal. “But Clyde’s gotten himself into a heap of trouble up in St. Louis.”

She sighed, toying with her food. “I told him not to visit our cousin Bennie. He’s always been bad, that Indian. As boys they were wild, those two, drinkin’ and stealin’ cars and carryin’ on. But when Clyde got his repair business he changed. Turned over a brand-new leaf. Not Bennie.” She shook her head. “Now it’s drugs and murder he’s into.”

“Is there anywhere else Clyde could go? Other family somewhere?”

“No. Everyone he has is here.” She looked sad. “Clyde would never do these things he’s accused of. He’s a good man now. I know this.”

“So do the police, Miz Tafota. The evidence shows he was innocent of those drug shootings. That’s why I don’t understand why he ran. He needs to turn himself in and clear this up.”

“But if he’s innocent, why do they still look for him?”

“Innocent or not, he jumped bail. You know how it works, a bail bondsman put up a lot of money as a guarantee that Clyde would show up for his hearings and trial. He didn’t, so the bail was kept by the courts and the bondsman is out all his money until Clyde is returned to custody. Even if the criminal charges are dismissed, Clyde still has to appear.”

“Or they come after him for the money.”

“That’s right. And you don’t want him being hauled in by a bounty hunter. That could get ugly.”

Under the table Luce kicked him sharply in the shin.

Silently he swore. Maybe she didn’t feel guilty about hiding why she was there from Joseph, Donna Tafota and the others. But he definitely did. Even though Philip was in no way involved in Luce’s bail retrieval job, he was implicated by association since he’d brought her to the rez. And it bothered him.

Nevertheless he dropped the subject of bounty hunting and simply urged Donna Tafota to call him if Clyde contacted her. They’d deal with who’d take him where, if and when they found him. Hopefully he’d haul his ass back to St. Louis all on his own, and it wouldn’t be an issue.

But apparently Luce didn’t agree. She put up a good front during the leisurely meal, smiling and chatting cheerfully, but he could tell she was ticked at him. When his body brushed up against hers on the bench, she’d scoot away. When he spoke to her, she’d glance down at her plate instead of at him.

All in all, things had gone well at the reservation. But it was never a good thing to overstay one’s welcome. He casually put his arm across her shoulders and said, “We have a long drive ahead. We should probably get going.” Her spine stiffened.

“Okay,” she said. He figured he was in for a lecture.

They gave their thanks to their hosts and said their goodbyes.

“Stay in touch about Clyde,” Joseph urged as he closed the Jeep door for Philip and leaned a hand on the window frame. “If he’s been involved in all these doin’s and hasn’t come home, to be honest, I’m starting to get a little worried about him.”

“I will,” Philip assured him, and clasped right arms with him solidarity style. “I don’t want to see Clyde in trouble any more than you do. His salvage yard and engine-repair business bring in a lot of trade to Piñon Lake. He’s a valued citizen.”

After they’d gotten back on the highway and were speeding toward home, Luce let loose on him. “What were you thinking? Warning them about bounty hunters while I was sitting right there!”

“They didn’t know you’re a bounty hunter,” he said calmly.

“Listen, you might not care about the income from your job,” she fumed, “but I do. I’m counting on this paycheck to—” She broke off.

“To what?” He turned to her, curious.

She crossed her arms over her abdomen and slunk down in the seat. “I want to open my own P.I. business. I need this retrieval fee. But even if I didn’t, this is my job. My livelihood. My reputation. You have no right to interfere with how I do it.”

For some reason he was glad she was getting out of the bounty-hunting business. But that didn’t change what was right.

“These people gave us their trust. We owe it to them to treat Clyde fairly.”

“He should have thought about that when he jumped bail.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he agreed. “But there are other ways to go about it.”

“Such as?”

“New Mexico state law requires bail enforcers to turn in detainees to the sheriff of the county in question. Instead of taking Tafota to St. Louis, you could turn him in to my friend at the Taos County Sheriff’s office.”

She exhaled hard, but he could see her consider. “And have him extradited?”

“You still get your paycheck that way, and Clyde stays in New Mexico.”

“All that takes time, O’Donnaugh. I’m on a deadline here. Bail is forfeit in less than a week.”

“They were nice people, Luce.”

“I know, I know!” she said exasperatedly. “Don’t lay on the guilt trip, okay? If I let myself be swayed by every nice person who cares about the jumpers, I’d never get paid. This is what I do. I have to be objective.”

“I understand,” he said.

And he did. He’d faced similar difficult situations in law enforcement. But in this case, Luce wouldn’t be around for the fallout. Philip had to live and work here. His reputation mattered, too.

He dropped the subject and drove in silence until they reached Dulce, to give her some space. He didn’t want to push her too far and risk losing her cooperation.

“I need a Starbucks,” she said as they drove through town. “Can we stop?”

He couldn’t prevent the chortle that escaped at the thought of one of the pricey, trendy gourmet cafés in a place like Dulce.

She scowled at him. “What?”

“Sweetheart, the closest Starbucks is probably in Taos. Maybe even Santa Fe. Is a substitute okay?”

Her face fell. “I suppose, if I have no choice.”

“Trust me,” he said, and pulled into the Apache Oil gas station. “You don’t.” He took a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to her. “Get me one, too. Black.”

She looked in horror from the twenty to the gas station. “You’re kidding, right?”

He just smiled.

With a long groan, she snatched the bill and got out of the Jeep. “I hate this state,” she muttered.

“It grows on you,” he called after her with a grin. City girl. Maybe she was a little prissy, after all.

Upon her return, she wordlessly handed him a tall styrene cup.

“Find what you wanted?”

“No decaf. No half and half, either.”

He clicked the edge of his cup against hers. “Good stuff. It’ll grow hair on your chest.”

She shot him a withering glare. “Just what I need.”

Steering the Jeep back onto the highway, he ventured, “I have a cappuccino maker at home.”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

“You could come over tonight. I’d make you some.”

“Philip, I’m mad at you,” she said patiently. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to your house tonight.”

“No need to get testy. It was just an offer. But we really should discuss our strategy for tomorrow.”

“What strategy?”

“You mentioned you’d learned something today that may be relevant to the case.”

Her expression turned incredulous. “You can’t seriously think I’m going to share information with you after this?”

“Sure I do.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“You called me Philip. First time ever. You must still like me.”

She covered her eyes with a hand. “I am not hearing this.”

“You need me. You want me. You can’t live without me. You also know I’m right about Clyde.”

“I can’t even imagine how to begin to respond to that.”

“You could start by sharing what you found out. Or…” He flicked the handcuffs hanging from his rearview mirror and waggled his eyebrows at her. “I could arrest you for deliberately impeding an ongoing investigation.”

He could practically hear her mentally count to ten. But he also spotted the beginnings of a reluctant smile. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a real pain in the neck, O’Donnaugh?” she mumbled.

“Neck?” He pretended to consider. “Nah.”

There. That was definitely a smile. “God, you’re obnoxious.”

He grinned over at her. “That’s why you like me so much. Now, go on. Tell me what you found out.”

She took a long sip from her cup, then grimaced in distaste. “All right. But I’m not going to your house.”

“Fine. Spill.”

“I heard about a place he might be hiding out.”

“No kidding? From one of the women?”

“Yep.”

“So why didn’t the lieutenant know about it?”

“He does.”

The guilt Philip had been feeling earlier ebbed a bit. “You mean he lied to me?”

“No. He just doesn’t realize he knows. And he’s not really looking for Tafota, so it probably never occurred to him.”

“Explain.”

“Some of the old women were telling stories today. About the tribe.”

“Yes, I saw you sitting with them.”

“One was telling about the old days, back when the children of the tribe had to go to the Indian boarding school down in Santa Fe. About how they were often mistreated and how they didn’t like being away from their Apache families, forced to live with Navajo and Pueblo children. The Navajo and Pueblo were considered the enemy back then.”

“Along with the U.S. Government, I expect,” he said wryly.

“Anyway, she told this story about a Jicarilla boy and girl who escaped from the school on foot. They walked for a couple of months trying to get back to their people. Up along the Rio Chama around Abiquiu they discovered a secret hidden box canyon with some old ruins, and they decided to stay for the winter. They ended up living there for almost a year before they were caught by authorities stealing chickens at a local ranch and sent back to the school.”

He could tell by her intonation there was more. “So what’s the punch line?” he asked.

“The girl was Clyde Tafota’s grandmother.”

Philip digested that. “Okay. That’s good. She still alive?”

“Unfortunately not. And no one else seems to know exactly where the canyon was.”

“Or they aren’t telling.”

“A definite possibility. But the school might have records. Or the police who found them.”

“Hopefully we can come up with an exact location with a few phone calls.”

They talked about the possibilities most of the way back to Piñon Lake, about how they could go about getting the information they needed, and who would take care of what. By the time they were approaching the village, Philip felt fairly confident that Luce had completely forgotten she was mad at him. So he decided to take a chance.

Just before town, he swung the Jeep onto a well-used track that took them up the mountain.

Luce looked around. “Where are we going?”

“I want to show you something.”

The sun was just setting. Because they were on the western slope of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, there was a wide, unimpeded view of the vivid streaks of color being painted in bold strokes across the sky, as if by a giant with a huge paintbrush.

“Oh, my Lord,” she said in a hushed tone as he steered onto a cleared area at the edge of a shallow drop. “That is amazing.”

He shut off the engine. “Just wait. It gets better.”

The sun went down quickly in the desert, so they sat there for ten or fifteen minutes soaking in the incredible cosmic show as it spun its magic upon the earth. First the sky turned bright yellow and lilac, then lavender and orange, melting into deep reds and violets, and finally fading to a stark black with slivers of purplish yellow.

“Incredible,” she murmured. “I have never seen a sunset like that before.”

“Welcome to the wilderness, city girl.”

She rolled her head on the neck rest and looked at him with a smile. “Okay, I guess it does have a few good points.”

“One or two.”

She glanced around. “Where are we?” she asked.

He got out of the Jeep and grabbed their things from the back bench. Then he came around and opened her door.

“My place.” He gave a little bow and gestured for her to hop out. “Welcome to my humble abode, Miz Montgomery.”

“What?” Luce balked. “Your place? This?”

She squinted into the darkness that had settled all around them, and was just able to make out a stone path leading away from the parking area to a low, silhouetted structure that nestled a hundred yards or so from the edge of the panoramic cliff drop.

“House, barn and fifteen acres,” Philip said.

She really shouldn’t have been surprised by his choice of abode, but for some reason she was. She’d expected…she wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it.

“Gosh, I could have sworn I said I wouldn’t go to your house tonight.”

Holding both their weapons, holsters and extra clothing in his arms, he leaned up against the frame of the Jeep’s open door. “I guess I thought you changed your mind.”

“Based on…?”

He grinned. “Wishful thinking? Besides, we have work to do. There’s no time to hold a grudge.”

He just stood there leaning against the Jeep, watching her decide. If he’d touched her she would have immediately insisted on being taken to the motel. But he didn’t.

A sinking feeling took hold of her stomach—that she was about to give in.

“Dodge will charge you an arm and a leg for long-distance calls,” he said blandly.

“I have a cell phone.”

“Wireless laptop?”

“No,” she grudgingly admitted.

“There you go, then. Gotta come in to use the computer.”

She hesitated for a moment longer, scrambling for a rational reason to refuse him. One that didn’t involve bringing up the subject of touching. Or kissing. Or anything else along those lines. No sense reminding him of all that.

Then she looked up into his eyes and realized she didn’t have to remind him. He was already thinking them. His dark gaze lingered on her face, caressing her cheeks and throat with all the reassurance of a mountain lion sizing up his prey.

She shivered, but couldn’t for the life of her look away. When he lifted his hand to help her down, she forgot completely she meant to say no.

“Just for a little while,” she mumbled.

“Absolutely,” he allowed.

“I’ll go first,” he said, walking ahead of her on the stone path. “In case of rattlers.”

“Rattlers? As in snakes?” Nervously, she hurried to catch up to him. “Those nasty ones that can kill you with a single bite?”

“Actually, Western rattlesnakes are pretty docile and will usually only bite if you step on them.”

“Usually?”

“Well, in the springtime when they wake up they can be a bit cranky.”

“Springtime? You mean like, say, April?” She pressed in closer to him. She didn’t have to double-check her watch to know what month it was.

“Now that you mention it. But don’t worry. Their bite is rarely fatal. You just get really sick.”

“I’m so reassured.”

She heard him chuckle. “Just stomp really loudly as you walk. The snakes will feel the vibrations and hide. Works for bears, too.”

“Wonderful.”

They reached a set of low steps and went up to a wraparound patio surrounding the house, artfully lit by low-watt deck lights. “Here we are, safe and sound.”

“Wow, this is really nice,” she said when Philip had let them into the house and they were standing in the large, cozy living room.

He watched without comment as she made a full circle, taking in the whole room. The contemporary-style house was built completely of wood and glass. On the floors, thick carpeting was covered by Indian rugs, and a towering stone fireplace sat between two huge plate-glass windows. There was a wall of lighted, built-in bookshelves, and big burgundy leather furniture with walnut tables filled the space between. Everything seemed designed for comfort, but managed to look masculine and elegant at the same time.

“Wow,” she repeated. The man obviously had an abundance of good taste. And money. No wonder he wasn’t concerned about his salary if he could afford fifteen acres with a home like this on it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Good,” he said, and she thought she detected a shade of satisfaction in the pronouncement. “I’m glad you like it.”

She was tempted to ask him why, but thought better of it.

She was attracted to Philip. More than attracted, truth be told. But one look at this place and she knew without a doubt he was one of those picket fence guys looking for a little lady to put it around. Luce had no plans to be fenced in—no matter how sexy the man looked in his well-fitting jeans and cowboy hat. She had things to do with her life. Places to go.

And there was that something special she had to find before she could even think about settling down. Something good she knew was out there somewhere, waiting for her. Just on the other side of the mountain.

So it was no use even opening up that can of worms with Philip O’Donnaugh. Despite their mutual attraction, for both their sakes, their relationship had to stay strictly professional.

“I’ll be right back,” Philip said, depositing her gun and other belongings on a side table. He pointed out the kitchen and powder room, said, “Help yourself to anything,” and disappeared down a hallway, presumably leading to the bedrooms.

She took the opportunity to freshen up, then wandered over to the bookshelves. Running her hand along the buttery-smooth arm of a giant leather sofa, she tipped her head to check out his book collection. She was surprised by the diversity of titles and topics. There was a bit of everything, from paperback mystery novels to leather-bound classics, to volumes on local history, to expensive texts on forensics and other sciences. Interspersed among them all were small but beautiful works of bronze, ceramics and ancient art.

She leaned over for a closer look at an extraordinarily beautiful black glazed pottery bowl which she guessed was Native American.

Suddenly she felt the barest feather-touch of a caress on her bottom. Acting on pure instinct, she spun like lightning, grabbing her attacker’s wrist and toppling him backward onto the sofa. She grabbed his throat and clamped her legs around his thighs to prevent him from moving.

When she saw who it was, her breath whooshed out.

“Jeez, Philip.”

His hand came up, one finger dangling a pair of handcuffs, which he offered to her with a crooked smile.

She frowned. “What are those for?”

“Oh—” he said with a bemused expression. “You mean this isn’t foreplay?”

She clenched and unclenched her jaw, then took her hand from his throat. “You are so not amusing, O’Donnaugh.”

His lip curled. “Then what’s all this about?”

“I like a little warning before someone touches my backside.”

“I’ll try to remember that in the future.”

She was about to correct him about that future thing when she made the mistake of relaxing her thighs. That’s when she realized she was straddling his lap. Again. Her hands were planted on either side of his head and he was looking up at her with a strange expression on his handsome face.

“Sorry about tackling you,” she murmured, knowing she should get off him immediately, but for some reason she couldn’t make her legs work.

“No worries. I’m getting used to being in this position.”

She swallowed. “Sorry. It’s just…reflex.”

“In fact,” he said, his voice lowering an octave, “I’m kinda starting to like it.”

He shifted a fraction under her, and she felt that he was telling the truth.

Oh, God. Her heart thundered.

She really did have to move. Now.

“Fair warning,” he murmured, and before she knew what was happening, she felt his hands on her bottom, brushing over her with fingers spread.

She gasped. “Philip!” she said on the exhale, and tried to sit up.

But he was faster. His strong hands spanned her back. And started pulling her down, toward him, while slowly stroking up and down her sides.

“Um, what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. His hands worked themselves higher still, pulling her down even more until her face was mere inches from his.

“This is not a good idea,” she whispered as he tugged her closer and closer.

His eyes had darkened, the lids falling to a sexy half-mast, his black lashes framing a look of smoldering desire.

Her pulse skyrocketed. But her body became inexplicably weak, like there was molasses flowing through her veins.

“We really shouldn’t—”

“Luce?” he murmured, sliding his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head in his palm.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Then he closed the gap between them and covered her mouth with his.

Chapter 4

Luce heard a whimper as the taste of Philip’s kiss exploded on to her senses. She knew she should resist, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember why.

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, urging her with his tongue to open to him. She did, and heard another whimper. Her own? No. Luce Montgomery had never whimpered in her life.

He changed angles and his tongue invaded her mouth, causing a riot of sensation all through her body. A sharp coil of desire tightened from her nipples straight to where her legs were spread and pressing up against him.

She groaned. He tasted so good. She opened wider, loving how he wasn’t gentle but took what he wanted, laving her mouth with his tongue, suckling and nipping her lips, demanding her response with heated fervor.

Suddenly, he tightened his grip on her and rolled them off the sofa, carefully landing on the floor, clutching her under him.

“I want to be on top,” he rumbled with barely a break in his kissing.

She moaned her assent, wrapping her arms around his neck, molding herself around his body. He felt powerful, in control, his muscles rippling as he lowered himself between her thighs. And suddenly she knew with dead certainty the only reason she’d ever been able to bring this man down was because he’d let her do it.

For some reason that realization turned her on even more. She returned his kisses with abandon, reveling in the rare sensation of a man’s weight on her and in the sheer intensity of their desire to taste each other.

They kissed and kissed, and she didn’t stop him when he grasped her calf and wrapped her leg around his thigh. It felt so good, he felt so good, that she lost herself in his passion and ignored the little voice in the back of her head warning her that this was a monumental mistake.

He pressed into her, teasing her, tempting her, rubbing the long ridge of his arousal against her center. Even with two layers of jeans between them, he felt mouthwateringly hard. They were both breathing so fast they had to break the kiss. But he kept his cheek against hers, moist and hot as a midsummer day. While they caught their breath, his hand smoothed circles around her hip and up her ribs.

Then it closed over her breast.

Too far. She grasped his shoulders, intending to push some space between them. “Philip—”

“Mmm?” His fingers moved over her tantalizingly slowly.

She forgot what she was doing. “Um…”

She blew out a steadying breath, fighting to get her rioting body under some kind of discipline. Which was a whole lot harder than just about anything else she’d ever done in her life. Especially when his thumb stroked over the pebbled tip through her top, making her want to cry out with pleasure.

“Mmm,” he moaned huskily. “Like that?”

“I think you know I do,” she managed. Her nipples were tight points of aching need.

Their bodies expanded and contracted together with each labored breath they took. He pulsed between her thighs, even larger than before.

She knew it was now or never. Somehow she dredged up the willpower to say, “I think you also know I want you….”

Philip stilled, and after a moment his head came up. “I’m sensing a but in there somewhere.”

His hand was still on her breast and for one insane moment she considered letting it stay there. Saying, no, there was no but. Just want. Except she knew what would happen if they went through with this. If they ended up in bed, and formed a bond that would be painful for both of them to break. Not to mention making their professional relationship way more complicated.

“Yeah,” she said regretfully. More regretfully than he would ever know. Damn.

His fingers moved on her breast, cupping her, but not insistently.

“No sex?”

“You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it go this far. I know how hard it is—”

He cut her off with a choked laugh. “Funny.” Then he sighed and rolled off her.

She felt like such a jerk doing this to him. To both of them. But it was the smart thing to do. For both of them.

They lay there for a few minutes staring at the ceiling. Recovering.

“Just out of curiosity…” he said. “Why not?”

“Which one of the thousand reasons would you like?”

“I’m in no hurry. Start at the top.”

“For one, I’m leaving in a few days.”

He shrugged. “I’m not asking you to marry me.”

She smiled wryly at the ceiling. So like a man. “Sorry. I’m not into the love-’em-and-leave-’em lifestyle.”

“So stay awhile.”

She turned her head and found him watching her. Their eyes met and she saw the depth of his sincerity. “I can’t,” she said, sensing the danger in that sentiment with every cell of her body. “Besides…”

He canted on his side, bent an elbow and rested his head on his palm. He reached out a finger and toyed with the hem of her top. “Besides?”

She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t looking for anything permanent, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fall for him and get hurt. That she’d never been quite this drawn to any man she’d met, so she didn’t want to take the chance. Because eventually her restlessness would take over and pull her away from him. And then he’d get hurt.

But he didn’t need to hear any of that, so instead she said, “We’re working a case together. It would be a conflict of interest.”

He pursed his lips and slowly nodded, but she could tell he wasn’t buying that one. “I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to, Luce,” he finally said.

He leaned over and gently kissed her. “But if you change your mind, you just let me know.”

With that he rose and helped her up. Then he turned and said, “Guess we’d better get working on that case.”

With a sharp pang of regret, she watched him walk away.

She’d done the right thing. There was no doubt in her mind she had.

So why was it her heart suddenly ached so badly?

Philip managed to keep himself together enough to show her he’d taken her rejection in stride.

Which he had. Really.

Actually, it had been more of a heading off at the pass than a rejection. Luce had made it clear she really wanted to have sex with him. There were just too many good reasons not to.

He had just one word for that.

Bull.

But that could be his ego talking. He’d be more objective in a day or two when his body stopped throbbing for her. Okay, maybe five or six days.

He got them drinks, because he sure as hell needed one, and fired up the computer while she phoned her boss in St. Louis to fill him in on her progress with Clyde Tafota.

He did a quick Google on the two runaway kids in the local newspaper archives, and confirmed that the girl’s name matched the maiden name of Clyde’s grandmother, but didn’t find any more specific references to the box canyon than they already had. He jotted down the pertinent information on the school and noted it had been the sheriff’s office that returned the kids to the school.

He figured that was as good an excuse as any to call Ted Pace down in Taos. Ted was his friend there at the sheriff’s office who had lured him into the fateful poker game, of which Philip never failed to remind him and pull endless favors from him on account of. He would be eternally grateful to his friend for aiding the hand of fate, but Ted didn’t need to know that.

“Hey, buddy, what’s up?” Ted greeted Philip when he called him at his home number. They shot the breeze for a while before he brought up the reason he was calling. After explaining briefly about Clyde Tafota, he relayed the information he needed on the kids.

“Dang, man, you say it happened back in 1934?” Ted said. “I don’t know if I can get hold of records that old, especially if it was only something minor with no arrest or anything. But I’ll see what I can do. Call me at the station tomorrow morning.”

Philip thanked him and hung up. That’s when he noticed Luce had wandered into his office and was checking out the photo gallery on the wall. His mom had always kept the staircase wall full of pictures of family and special events, and the habit had stuck.

“I didn’t realize your dad is in law enforcement, too,” Luce remarked, looking at an old photo of his father in a khaki uniform. “What branch?”

Philip frowned. He didn’t really like talking about his father. “He was sheriff of Inyo County for twenty-two years.”

“In California?”

“Yes. But he’s been dead for a long time.”

Dead but not forgotten. And still running Philip’s life, even from the grave.

Correction: had been running his life up until a few years ago, if largely unbeknownst to Philip. But no more. Clean-break time. Time to forget the bad and remember only the good—of which, admittedly, there was plenty. To be fair, his dad had no idea Philip would get elected to his job after he died.

Forgive and forget. Philip was working on it.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Ancient history.” He waved off her sympathy, and decided to change the subject before it went any further. His messy past was public record, but he didn’t see any reason to bring it up.

“What about your dad?” he asked as a diversion. “What does he do for a living?”

She strolled along the wall, still studying the photos. “He sells cars.”

The sip of beer he was taking almost went down the wrong pipe. “You’re kidding. I thought sure he was a cop or in the military or something.”

“Nope.” She stopped in front of an early O’Donnaugh family portrait, taken when Philip was still a toddler. She reached up to straighten it with a lingering touch to the frame.

“So, how did a mild-mannered car salesman end up with a penchant for guns and a bounty hunter for a daughter?”

Turning from the portrait, she took a pull from her own beer. “He likes deer hunting. And I’m adopted.”

He raised a brow at the casual admission. “Yeah, huh?”

She crossed her arms over her abdomen. “I was left sitting on a church pew in St. Louis when I was three. The Montgomery’s adopted me a year later.”

Again he wondered at the calm way she talked about such a traumatic, life-altering event.

“Have you ever tried to find your real parents?” he asked without thinking.

“The Montgomery’s are my real parents,” she said with a steely determination Philip guessed hid a whole lot of love, but probably a whole lot of hurt, too. So her calmness about the subject was a facade. Knowing you were abandoned couldn’t be easy, regardless of how much your adoptive parents loved you and vice versa.

“Real in every way that matters,” he agreed, kicking himself mentally for being so insensitive. Better get back to business. “So,” he said, “did you find out anything new when you called your boss?”

“No developments on that end. Tafota is still at large and the clock’s ticking on his bail forfeiture.”

“He’s just digging himself in deeper and deeper by not turning himself in.” Philip shook his head. “I don’t get it. He could lose his business over this mess.”

Luce toyed with a pen sitting in a holder on his desk. “I’ve long since given up trying to figure people out. Especially the ones in trouble. People do weird things under pressure.”

Didn’t he know it. He pulled up his keyboard. “Let’s try running his credit cards,” he suggested. “Check if they’ve been used lately. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“You can do that?” She came over to stand at his shoulder.

“Sure.” He winked up at her. “I’m the law.”

It was actually a bit more complicated than that, but he’d built up a good network of contacts over the years. Generally if you did someone a favor, they didn’t mind returning it. And he’d done quite a few favors in his eight years as sheriff and two as police chief.

He just wished Luce would do one for him now and not stand quite so close. It was hard to concentrate when he could smell her perfume and feel the heat from her body on his back. The memory of her taste rushed to his mouth, doubling his discomfort. Damn, he wanted to turn around and grab her.

Down, boy. He’d already tried that. The lady wasn’t interested.

He made himself concentrate and navigated to the Web site he needed, then typed in a password. With a few quick keystrokes he pulled up Clyde Tafota’s credit history and downloaded a copy. Clyde had two major credit cards and a gas card.

“I have contacts at all of these companies,” he said. “We can call them in the morning to find out his activity.” He outlined his conversation with Ted, the relevant bits anyway, then he handed her his earlier notes. “This is everything I found on the school. At least it’s still in business.”

Mercifully she took the printouts and notes over to his easy chair and plopped into it. He tried not to watch her as she read through them, but it was no use. It was like trying not to look in a bakery window when you were on a diet.

His gaze wandered over her body and, unbidden, the feel of the places he’d touched her echoed across his palms. He could still feel the lacy outline of her bra on his fingers, the pebbled tip of her breast on the pad of his thumb.

Damnation! He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else.

“Do you think we should— Philip?” Luce interrupted his inner frustrations.

He snapped his eyes open. “Yeah?”

“You okay? You look a little green around the gills.”

He sat up straighter. “I’m fine. What were you saying?”

She blinked, then all at once stood up. “I, um, think I’d better get going. It’s late and, um… It’s late.”

He regarded her. She was doing it again—reading his mind. Not that it would be so hard to decipher….

“You haven’t had your cappuccino yet,” he said, not wanting her to leave.

“That’s okay. Thanks for the beer.” She set the bottle down and edged toward the door.

“What about dinner? Aren’t you hungry?”

“Still stuffed from that incredible lunch.” She flashed a brave smile. “I probably won’t need to eat for days.”

“Luce—”

“I can call a taxi. You really don’t have to—”

“Luce. There are no taxis in Piñon Lake.” As he got up from the desk she took a quick step backward. He put his hands on his hips. “I’m starting to get a little insulted here.” He might be thinking it, but he wouldn’t ever do anything she wasn’t comfortable with.

“Philip—”

“Are you afraid of me?”

She gave her head a quick shake. “Not you.” But nevertheless took another step back when he moved toward her. Before he could decide if he should be angry, she said, “It’s me, Philip. I’m afraid if I stay, I’ll…” She licked her lips.

His brows shot to his hairline. “You’ll what?”

“Do something foolish.”

He couldn’t help it. He had to smile. “Yeah? Such as?”

That earned him an eye roll. Then she got serious. “Philip, I’m not going to pretend I didn’t like kissing you. Because I did. A whole lot. Which is why it’s so tempting to—” She waved her hand.

“Stay?”

“Yeah. Stay. But neither of us are looking for a relationship, and as I said, I don’t do—”

“One-night stands. I remember. But who said I’m not looking for a relationship?”

As soon as the words were out, he regretted them. Of course he wasn’t looking for a relationship! Other than the obvious. Hell’s bells.

Luckily, Luce came to his rescue. Her mouth had dropped open a fraction, as though she’d been taken aback, but now it closed and thinned. “Even more reason for me not to stay. I like my life just as it is. Uncomplicated and mobile.”

“Me, too,” he assured her. “At least the uncomplicated part. It’s just…” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “You make my palms itch.”

Her lips tilted into a wry smirk. “Trust me, I know the feeling.”

“Good to know,” he said, and headed straight for the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here before it spreads.”

He heard her sigh as she followed behind him. “Too late.”

It took all his effort not to turn around and help her scratch.

The next morning Luce made sure she was dressed before Philip arrived. He hadn’t said he’d come, but she had a feeling he’d be there at the motel bright and early just like yesterday.

She was right.

“Hi,” he said, leaning on the door frame with a grin and a finger in the air when she opened the door.

“Hi, back,” she said, and glanced at the front of the door to see what he’d been fiddling with. The 9 had slipped down into a 6 again. “What’s going on?”

He dropped his hand. “It’s a long drive to Santa Fe, we better hit the road.”

“Ever heard of a telephone?”

He switched to prop his back against the frame. “Sure. But it’s always better to show up in person.”

She wasn’t exactly sure if he was referring to him being at her door or them driving down to the Indian boarding school. Take your choice.

In the first place, she wasn’t certain she wanted to work with him at all. And she definitely didn’t want to spend hours in his Jeep again with his knuckles brushing her knee and his shoulder bouncing off hers. That was probably what had made her lose her mind last night and let him kiss her.

She groaned inwardly. “Is it as far as the reservation was?” she asked.

“Not quite,” he said. “We should make it in less than two hours.

Two hours. Each way. That made four hours. Not even counting the time in between, to make their inquiries.

Oh, what the hell. She was a strong person. She wasn’t going to let this stupid attraction beat her. Or make her miss out on information vital to completing her job.

“Okay. Just let me get my briefcase.”

“Have you had breakfast?” he asked as she went to the closet.

She shook her head. “Don’t generally eat breakfast. Just grab a cup of coffee.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he stated.

Like she hadn’t heard that one a million times before. “You sound like my mom,” she grumbled.

“Smart lady.” Suddenly he was next to her, looking down at her footwear. “You got any boots?”

She glanced at her perfectly fine sneakers. “No. Why?”

“If we’re gonna find that box canyon we’ll have to do a bit of hiking.”

She stared at him. “Hiking? As in out in the wilderness?”

“That’s generally where box canyons are found. Out in the wilderness.”

She was used to braving the urban wilderness of the big cities—St. Louis, Kansas City, Chicago. None of them gave her a moment’s pause. But this was a different story. “Are there snakes?”

“Yeah, and bears, too, I reckon. And mountain lions and probably—”

“All right, already. I get the picture.” She pushed past him and grabbed her Walther from the nightstand. “Good thing I’m prepared.”

“You think that pea shooter will stop a charging thousand-pound bear?” he asked neutrally.

“Hell, no,” she said. “But it’ll drop you long enough to distract it and let me get away.”

He banded his arms across his chest and made a pained face. “Nice.”

She batted her eyelashes. “A city girl’s gotta protect herself somehow.”

He stuck his thumb to his chest. “Just let me do the protecting around here, okay?”

She was about to make a “Yeah, right” kind of retort, but for some reason the words stuck in her throat. Following after him as he strode confidently out the door, she had the most peculiar feeling that she really could rely on Philip to protect her. From bears to bad guys or anything else that came along. For a woman who dealt daily with men who’d sooner put her six feet under as swat a mosquito, that was an unusual sensation.

And the realization that despite knowing him for less than two days, if it came right down to it, she would probably trust Philip O’Donnaugh with her life…now that was downright sobering.

Before leaving Piñon Lake, Philip stopped at a place called the Shamrock Slipper and asked a waitress named Betsy to fix Luce a large decaf and a cinnamon cruller to go. Luce protested the cruller, which was huge and incredibly sticky looking, but the bossy chief of police apparently had everyone in town singing to his tune.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Betsy said with a motherly nod as she handed Luce the bag and a shamrock-printed napkin with her coffee.

“So I’ve heard,” Luce said, and forced a smile.

Betsy handed Philip a cup, too. “Black, no sugar, just how you like it, Chief O’Donnaugh.”

Oh, brother.

“Thanks, Betsy.”

“Will I see you for lunch?” she asked him, with a sideways glance at Luce.

“Not today, Betsy. We’re headed for the big city.”

“I see,” the waitress said knowingly. “Well, have a good time.”

“It’s work, Betsy. Part of the Soffit and Dickson robbery investigation.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You eat all your meals at the Shamrock Slipper?” Luce asked Philip as he was pulling out of the parking lot onto the highway.

“Nah. Just breakfast and lunch. I get my dinner to go. I like eating that at home.”

She sniffed at the bag. The cruller actually smelled delicious. “Sounds to me like you need to hire yourself a cook. I’m thinking Betsy would be a good choice.”

“I’ve tried, believe me. She refuses to leave the Slipper.” He tossed her a grin. “Interested in applying?”

She snorted. “The only thing I hate worse than cooking is washing dishes.” She bit into the doughnut and let out a hum of appreciation.

“Ah, well. Betsy tells me I need a wife, anyway.”

“Nothing wrong with having both. Not that I’m interested in either position,” she quickly added.

“Not the settling-down type. I remember.”

“Right,” she agreed.

But as she said it, she felt a weird pinging in her stomach. She looked over at Philip and, for the first time ever, had the fleeting thought that if she found a man like Philip to settle down with, a man who would protect her and make her laugh, one who fed her hot kisses at night and warm crullers in the morning, well, maybe settling down wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe someone like that could keep her eternal restlessness at bay.

She polished off the pastry and wiped her mouth with the napkin. Then again, she wasn’t used to such rich food this early in the morning. That pinging sensation was probably just a sugar rush or a twinge of indigestion.

Better to leave the care and feeding of Chief O’Donnaugh to others, and get her badly wandering mind back on the job. She had work to do, a box canyon to find and a paycheck to earn. In order to do that, she had a man to catch.

And that man was definitely not Philip O’Donnaugh.

Chapter 5

To Luce’s surprise, when they got down the mountain to Taos, Philip pulled over and asked if she’d drive the rest of the way.

“I want to call Clyde’s bank and credit card companies,” he explained. “They weren’t open earlier. And I need to be able to write things down.”

“Sure,” she said enthusiastically. She’d always wanted to test drive a Jeep. “Are you sure it’s okay?” At his puzzled look she pointed to the rack of police lights. “I’m not a cop.”

“Ah. That’s easy enough.” He selected the Jeep key on his key ring and touched each of her shoulders with it. “I hereby dub you my deputy officer.”

After a second of disbelief she grinned and swiped the keys from him. “Hokay, then. Which way?” He pointed and she pulled back onto the highway. “So, does this mean I get a badge?”

“No problem,” he said, dialing his cell phone. “Pull in to the next Dollar Store and we’ll get you one.”

She laughed and settled back in the bucket seat, adjusting the mirror to her height. And for the next half hour she listened as he schmoozed his way into getting four different people to run Clyde Tafota’s recent bank and credit card activity, taking a few notes on the printouts he’d brought from last night.

He was good, she had to admit. As good as she was. He had just the right friendly attitude, with just enough professionalism thrown in so the person on the other end didn’t think they were being manipulated. She knew legally he needed a subpoena to obtain that kind of personal financial information, so it was quite impressive that he managed to find out anything at all.

When he was finished, he pursed his lips. “That’s a bit troubling,” he said.

She glanced over. “No activity?”

“Not since last Tuesday.”

“How much did he take out then?”

“Fifteen hundred dollars from his bank account. Nothing on the cards.”

“Fifteen hundred will get you a long way if you’re careful,” she observed.

“Yeah. But where would he go? His family and friends are all here.”

“Spending your life in jail is a powerful motive to make new friends.”

He tapped his pencil on the papers. “Hopefully his sister has already told him that’s not going to happen.”

“And if she hasn’t, maybe it’s because he’s hiding out in that box canyon with a dead cell phone.”

“Which means we’d better find it and let him know.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she said. “Did you talk to your friend at the Taos Sheriff’s Office?”

He told her his friend, Ted, hadn’t been able to find any records of the 1934 incident in the files, but that he’d keep looking and let them know. Hopefully they’d have better luck at the school.

Meanwhile it was turning into another spectacular day, sunny and warm, and laced with the ever-present aroma of sage and pine. Today she’d been smart and worn her T-top under a loose flannel shirt, which she’d peeled off earlier when they stopped. She took a sidelong glance at Philip, who looked sexy as ever in his short-sleeved black cop shirt and snug jeans. Today he’d holstered his Beretta on his hip, though he’d made her put her Walther in the strong box under the back bench. He probably thought she’d been serious about that bear remark.

At her grin he said, “What’s funny?”

“Just enjoying myself,” she said, and realized with a start that she actually meant it. “I’m not used to having company on a job. It’s kinda nice.”

“Not worried about me stealing your collar?”

“Ha.” She snorted. “You and what army?”

He grinned back. “Pretty spunky for a city slicker. We’ll see how spunky you are when you meet up with your first wild animal.”

She slanted him a look. “Thought I did that last night,” she teased.

Ohh, big mistake. His grin turned wicked. “You were pretty wild yourself, doll.”

She felt the tips of her breasts tighten in response to his slow regard. Why, oh, why had she said that? One look at the man and her brain just vaporized, like some teenager with her first crush. She caught herself swerving off the road and steered the Jeep back to the center of the lane.

“It’s this state,” she lamented. “I haven’t been myself since setting foot in it.” Actually since meeting the man sitting next to her, but she’d bite her tongue off before admitting that.

“Well, if it is New Mexico, I like what it’s done to you. That was one hell of a kiss last night.”

She took a deep breath to shake off the swirly feeling of desire that suddenly spun through her body. “Yeah.” Damn. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Hey, you brought it up.”

So she had. What else could she talk about instead? She plucked at her T-shirt. “Are you hot?”

“Some women think so,” he said mildly.

She rolled her eyes heavenward, and caught sight of the canvas roof. “Say, can you take the top off?” she asked, brightening. When he didn’t respond, she looked over at him.

He blinked and opened his mouth to answer, but the lascivious expression gave his thoughts away.

She held up one hand and shook her head. “Don’t say it, O’Donnaugh,” she groaned. “I can’t believe I walked right into that one.”

“That you did,” he agreed. With a wink, he reached up, unhooked the soft part of the roof and lowered it without making a single comment or offer to do the same service for her.

He didn’t have to. Her breasts were already tingling at the memory of his hands on them. She could only imagine what it would feel like with her top off.

No, no, no.

“We really have to stop this, you know,” she said firmly. Well, she’d meant to say it firmly, but for some reason her voice came out breathy and tentative. “It’s going to drive us crazy if we don’t.”

“Or…” he said over the sough of the wind through the open Jeep, “we could do something about it.”

“Not a good idea,” she repeated for the third time aloud and about the millionth to herself.

He reached over and took her hand from the steering wheel, putting it to his lips. He kissed the top of it, then placed it back where it had been. “So you keep saying,” he said.

“And you disagree?”

His lip quirked and he relaxed back in his seat, giving her a long look. “I say it doesn’t really matter whether it’s a good idea or not. We’re going to end up in bed together, anyway, naked—with you under me.”

It was a damn good thing she had a solid grip on the steering wheel and it was an arrow-straight section of highway, because for a moment Luce was so stunned she couldn’t move or even think.

The impact of Philip’s low-spoken words hit her like a sucker punch. It’s not like she hadn’t had the exact same thought once or twice, but hearing it aloud made it sound almost…inevitable.

She swallowed heavily. “You’re awfully sure of yourself, O’Donnaugh.”

“Not at all,” he said, giving her the same look she gave jumpers who were trying to talk her into letting them go because they were innocent of all charges. “What I am sure of is this incredible chemistry we have going on between us.”

“Having chemistry doesn’t mean having to act on it. We’re adults.”

“It would be a shame to waste what we’re feeling for each other.”

“It would be an even bigger shame for one of us to get hurt. Or both.”

“Sex isn’t supposed to hurt, Luce.”

“But love does.”

She fastened her gaze determinedly on the solid yellow lines running alongside the Jeep. She hadn’t meant to say that. In fact, she wasn’t exactly sure where the words had come from. She’d never really had an unhappy love affair. She’d never given herself the chance. She’d been too busy for love. First with school, then her job. Her endless traveling and relentless dedication to work had precluded any kind of emotional attachment—except for her parents, Arthur and the other guys at the jump shop.

“The trick is…” Philip said, yanking her out of her thoughts. “The trick is not to fall in love.”

She swung her gaze to him, taking in his strong, square jaw and intelligent eyes, his sculpted lips and thick black hair. That would be a trick, all right, she thought with a sinking heart. To sleep with this man and not fall in love with him seemed like an impossibility.

“I never fall in love,” she managed to say with a fair amount of conviction.

“Then there’s no problem.” He didn’t smile, didn’t wink, didn’t reach out and touch her. Simply said, “I want you, Luce. I want to be inside you. And I know you want me, too.”

Chaos ran rampant through her body, but she was spared having to tame it and comment one way or the other, because suddenly they were in Santa Fe. Philip directed her to the school and she drove into the parking lot. It was only after she’d pulled into a spot that she realized her hands were shaking.

She stuck them under her armpits and leaned her forehead on the steering wheel, then took a deep breath to steady her nerves while Philip got out and came around to her side.

He opened the door and unclipped her seat belt. “Is the thought of sleeping with me that bad?” he asked when she didn’t move.

She looked up and tried to smile. “No, of course not.”

“Come here.” He opened his arms and, even though she knew very well it would just make things worse and not better, she slid out and into them, letting him enfold her in his secure embrace. “I hope you know,” he said, “I would never do anything you didn’t want me to.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“I just think it’s better to get things out in the open and talk about them. I’ve had too many surprises in my life. I don’t like hidden agendas.”

“Okay.”

He tilted up her chin and kissed her. His lips were soft and warm as the breeze rustling the Jacaranda trees. It wasn’t a demanding kiss, or even a claiming one. It was just…really nice. And that’s when she knew with dead certainty she was in even bigger trouble than she’d ever thought possible.

The man was smart, handsome, sexy and sensitive, too.

In short, he was simply irresistible.

Just then a group of older teenagers walked by, noticed them kissing and started hooting and cheering. “Hey, Mr. Policeman, that’s sexual harassment!” one of them shouted, to the others’ great amusement.

“Hell, I don’t care if she harasses me!” he called back, to their even greater amusement.

She laughed and he put his arm around her shoulder. His smile-crinkled eyes met hers, and she drank in the warmth and affection and innate goodness she saw in their depths.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispered, and kissed her temple. “Anytime.”

Philip found it difficult to concentrate on what the principal was telling him she’d dug up about the two Apache children who had run away from school so long ago. He had more immediate matters on his mind.

Like how he was going to get through the day without kissing Luce again. That little taste he’d gotten in the parking lot was not nearly enough. But he’d promised not to do anything she didn’t want. And he meant to keep that promise. Next time, she’d have to ask him.

He wanted to groan out loud. She’d never ask him.

“Here are the records I was able to find,” the principal was saying as she handed him a thin, fragile-looking yellowed file. “It’s not much, I’m afraid. But it might give you a general direction to look in.”

“Could we have copies?” he asked politely.

“I’ve already had a set made,” she said, and gave him a small sheaf of photocopies held together with a paper clip. “Good luck with your investigation.”

Back in the Jeep, it took about two minutes for him and Luce to read through them.

“She was right,” Luce said. “Not much to go on.”

“Let’s try the library,” he suggested, and turned the Jeep toward Washington Street, taking the wheel again.

“The library?”

“That’s where the newspaper archives are kept. There must have been articles written about this. Maybe there’ll be pictures of the canyon.”

Two hours later, Philip’s eyes hurt from squinting at microfiches and his stomach was grumbling from hunger. They’d found three articles and one indistinct photo of the general vicinity of where the canyon was located, but looking for the actual place would be like trying to find a golden needle in a haystack.

“Let’s get some lunch,” he said, “then take a drive out to Abiquiu and have a look.”

“All right,” Luce said, and gathered her things.

She’d been quiet since his bold declaration of desire, which worried Philip a little. He’d rather have her angry and sassy than quiet and thinking too much.

Why was she putting so much importance on this decision of whether to sleep together or not? Hell, it was just sex.

For some women that might be a problem, but with Luce’s lifestyle and self-proclaimed aversion to commitment, he didn’t think it was the sex per se she objected to. She hadn’t acted like an offended virgin. It was sex with him she objected to. Which was weird, because she really seemed to like him. Lord knew, she definitely liked to kiss him.

Surely she wasn’t actually worried about developing feelings for him?

Inwardly, he scoffed. Doubtful.

If anyone should worry about feelings growing where they shouldn’t, it was him. He had a bad history of that sort of thing. The last woman he’d fallen for had really put him through the ringer. Though she’d told him all along he was rushing matters, he hadn’t listened. More’s the pity.

You always heard about men having commitment phobias. But in his experience, women were even worse. Maybe it was his age, and all the ones interested in marriage already were, and those who weren’t, weren’t interested. He was the first to admit that little catch-22 had served him well these past few years while commitment had been the last thing on his mind. But back when he’d been hurt, he’d been looking for someone he could spend his life with. And deep down, he knew he still was.

But not with Luce Montgomery. No way. She was too much like that other woman. He knew the signs all too well. She had a gypsy soul and would never settle down. That much was obvious.

But damn, could she kiss.

And he wanted her. With every fiber of his being, he wanted her.

The area down around Abiquiu was one of Philip’s very favorite parts of New Mexico. True, Piñon Lake up in the Enchanted Circle was beautiful with its pristine forests and commanding views of the desert below, and he liked the cooler summer climate and the big drifts of snow in the winter. That’s why he’d settled up there.

But the desert drive along Highway 84 between Española and Chama was incredible. The two-lane macadam road was bordered on either side by a rolling band of red-brown earth dappled with sage, cedar and stubby grass, miles wide on the southwestern side where the Rio Chama with its blue waters and green cottonwood bosques wended its way down to the Rio Grande. To the north and east were the primitive red and yellow striated cliffs of El Monte Rojo and its compadres, to the south the purple shadows of the Pedernal; in the distant west the San Pedro Mountains stretched out like a lazy freight train along the horizon.

Certainly, it wasn’t as spectacular as the Grand Canyon nor as wondrous as Bryce or Zion, but it had a stark, wild beauty that Philip had always admired greatly.

He turned to Luce to see her reaction and was pleased by the smile of appreciation on her face.

“Boy, this is something,” she said.

“God’s country,” he concurred. “Georgia O’Keefe lived just up the road, you know.”

“Really?” She glanced down at the bad copy of the even worse newspaper photo in her hand. “Too bad she didn’t paint this picture. I’ll bet our canyon would have been much easier to locate. How on earth are we ever going to find this place in—” Luce gestured with a sweeping motion “—all that?”

He sighed. “With a lot of shoe leather and a lot more luck.”

As it turned out, they had no luck at all. And Luce’s city sneakers didn’t fare much better. They might be fine for chasing bad guys, but were definitely not designed with the rugged New Mexico terrain in mind. Before the afternoon was out, they were dirty and shredded. Philip felt sorry for her having to walk in them.

“We better pick you up some boots tonight,” he remarked as they sat on a large sandstone slab and sipped from water bottles, watching the shadows of evening creep over the vast desert splayed at their feet. The Jeep was sitting just a few dozen yards away so they didn’t have to worry about getting lost after dark, and they definitely could use the rest. They’d been hiking up and down arroyos and foothills on and off for five hours, and were looking at a two-hour drive back to Piñon Lake.

“Those sneaks have had it.”

“They don’t know what hit ’em,” Luce said with a chuckle, flopping her feet up and down. One of the soles had come unglued, so it flapped in the breeze. “Got any duct tape?”

“At home,” he said with a sidelong glance, bottle to his lips.

She cut him a look. “Damn, you’re persistent.”

“Get used to it.”

She fiddled with her water bottle and gazed out over the landscape. He relaxed back with an elbow on the warm, gritty slab and watched her instead of the dramatic sunset. At least she wasn’t telling him to go jump in the lake.

“I guess I shouldn’t be discouraged we didn’t find the canyon today,” she said with a sigh, “but I am.”

“Me, too,” he admitted. “But we’ll find it tomorrow.”

“Think so?”

He shrugged. “Hope so. We covered less than half the territory today.”

She propped back onto both elbows, gazing at the last sliver of sun disappear. “At least we didn’t meet up with any wild animals.”

He smiled. “You stomped loud enough to scare off anything for miles around. No wonder your shoes are in pieces.”

“Your idea, lawman.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

She looked over at him, amusement twinkling in the fading light. “Thank goodness.”

“For such a tough girl, you sure are a wuss, bounty hunter.”

“Yeah, but I have you to protect me.”

He knew she was just teasing, but for some reason hearing her say that gave him a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to reach for her and pull her into his arms and tell her he would always protect her from whatever harm came her way.

Ridiculous, really. She could take care of herself, anyone could see that. But still, it felt good. And it got him thinking about holding her in his arms.

As if reading his thoughts, she rolled onto her side and mirrored his head-on-hand pose.

“Philip?”

“Yeah?”

“Regarding what we were talking about earlier.”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“I’m honestly not trying to be difficult or old-fashioned or anything.”

“Okay.”

“I just think, under the circumstances, starting…anything…would be—”

“A bad idea.”

She puffed out a laugh. “Do I sound like a broken record?”

“A bit.”

It was dark now, but they were lying so close he could still see her features, illuminated by the brightening canopy of starlight. It was hard not to reach out and run his hand along the curve of her hip, or his finger along the edge of her cheek, but somehow he managed to still the impulse.

“On the other hand…” She sighed. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

His body suspended for a second in surprise. Then leaped in anticipation. “Okay.”

“Here’s the thing…”

He struggled to keep his expectations under control. “Mmm?”

“Just a kiss. It can’t be more than that.”

Knowing very well he’d take whatever he could get, he pretended to consider. After an appropriate pause he said, “Okay.”

“No getting naked. No going to your place. No sex.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Take it or leave it. But I wouldn’t blame you if you said no.”

The woman was obviously not too knowledgeable about men if she thought a few rules would stop him. “I’ll take it,” he said. Duh.

He smiled and waited.

She waited, too. After a moment she said, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

“You said you wanted to kiss me.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I did.” She licked her lips and scooted her body a little closer. They were still not quite touching.

It was torture, but he didn’t jump her. He let her take her time with him. Enjoying the tightening sensations in his body caused by the anticipation, he didn’t budge an inch to help.

“You’re not making this very easy on me,” she murmured.

He lifted a brow and smiled. “What’s this? Don’t tell me the lady’s scared to kiss a man?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed, and edged a tad closer, so their thighs skimmed up against each other. He felt himself grow hard, even at that delicate contact. “It’s just…”

With supreme effort he didn’t move, not even when she took a deep breath and her breasts brushed softly against his chest.

“Just what?”

“I’m usually the one trying to keep my distance.”

“I noticed.”

She puffed out a nervous laugh. “You’re not like other men.”

“Trust me, I am.”

“No. Other men would be all over me.”

“Give me about thirty seconds if this keeps up.”

He could feel the smile on her lips when they met his. It was a sweet, tentative kiss, and all too short.

“Mmm,” he said. “That was nice. But I happen to know you can do better.”

She moved her body right up against his. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said in his best dare-you voice.

This time when she put her lips to his she didn’t pull back. She put her arm around his neck and drew him closer. He opened his mouth to let out a moan of bliss, and she slid her tongue between his lips.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed, and gave himself up to the taste and sensation of her hot tongue gliding over his, probing, teasing, driving him mad with want. He put his arm around her bottom, pulling her body tight to his, center to center as she kissed him.

Her other arm went around his neck, bringing him down off his elbow to cant over her. His knee landed between her legs, his chest pressing into her breasts.

“This is a dangerous position,” he whispered into her mouth.

In answer, she levered over, spilling him onto his back, with her canted over him. “Better?” she asked between kisses.

“Define better.”

He felt her smile again, and she grasped his wrists in her hands. A spurt of excitement curled through him when he realized what she was doing. He willingly let her gather his wrists above his head and straddle him, her mouth never lifting from his.

Her breasts squashed onto his chest, their hard little tips poking into him, tempting his fingers to seek them out for special favors.

But he’d promised.

“Take off your top,” he urged, hoping she’d forget.

“Just kissing,” she reminded him, lacing her fingers through his, still above his head.

“Damn, woman,” he groaned. “You’re killing me.”

“Want me to stop?” she asked, her succulent mouth pausing in its task of licentious exploration.

He closed his eyes and forced his wound-up body to uncoil a little beneath her. “Maybe when I’m dead,” he murmured.

He could do Zen. He’d do anything it took to keep her on top of him with her mouth fused to his.

He tightened the weave of their fingers and waltzed his tongue over hers. And prayed he had the strength to be patient. Because there was not a doubt in his mind that he was right. She would end up naked under him.

It was just a question of when.

But there was a bigger question starting to play in his mind. One he wasn’t quite so comfortable with. And that was, how would he ever let her up once he got her there?

Chapter 6

The whole next day Luce spent following Philip’s backside up and down the steep, rocky washes and flat-topped cliffs around Abiquiu—which he called arroyos and mesas—looking for Clyde’s box canyon.

As backsides went, Philip’s still made her mouth water, just as it had that first night. So, even though her legs ached and her new boots pinched a little through the thick socks Philip had made her buy with them, she didn’t mind so much traipsing along after him. Let him watch for the canyon. She enjoyed watching the back of his jeans.

Even though they hadn’t found the canyon yet, it had been a fun day together. She’d grown more used to hiking around in the middle of nowhere, and wasn’t totally unnerved by the great outdoors any longer. Philip kept up a running narration on the various plants, birds and rock formations, bringing the harsh landscape to life. It was nice being with him. Comfortable.

This morning at the motel hadn’t even been awkward, which was slightly amazing. In the past whenever Luce had played hard-to-get with a man, he’d always avoided her like the plague afterwards, usually permanently. Not that she’d ever been playing. She’d just rarely wanted what those men had wanted.

Last night she’d been tough on Philip, kissing him for a long time before declining to go any further, as she’d told him from the start was her intention. He probably had no clue that the line had probably been harder for her to draw than it had been for him not to cross it. Because this time she did want what he wanted.

So after all that, she’d been more than a little surprised when he’d shown up at her motel room door that morning with a smile and a kiss and a bag of crullers like nothing at all unusual had happened the night before.

Okay, all right, there had maybe been that one awkward moment. When he’d seen the red patches on her jaw and told her she needed to wear more sunscreen today because she’d gotten sunburned yesterday, and she’d informed him that it wasn’t the sun that had burned her. It had taken him maybe ten seconds to figure out what she meant. His hand had gone to his own jaw, and a weird look had come over his face.

“Oh,” he’d said, running his hand over the dark stubble that had yet to appear there that early in the morning, “Sorry. Next time I’ll have to shave first.”

But he hadn’t looked sorry at all. In fact, he’d looked proud and possessive, like he was making a note to himself to see whether he could put that redness onto other parts of her body later on tonight.

“Don’t shave for my sake,” she’d told him. “I kinda like it rough.”

Right about then is when she’d grabbed the Walther and hurried out of the room because he’d gotten a look in his eyes like maybe he didn’t want to wait until tonight, after all.

But when he’d gotten to the Jeep he’d been fine. More or less. He’d buckled up, then leaned over, grasped her behind the neck and given her a thorough kiss, and said, “I had a real good time last night.” Then he’d let her go, started the Jeep and they were off to Abiquiu.

From then on it had been business all the way. For him, anyway. Okay, for her, too, since her business had been watching his butt all the way up and down those arroyos and mesas.

She really had to get a grip. Six hours, you’d think a woman would get tired of the same view.

All at once she ran right into him.

“Oof!” he went, and grabbed her arms to steady her. “Hey, watch where you’re going, there.”

“I am,” she assured him, trying to hide her smile.

“Getting tired?”

“Not yet.” She felt her lips twitch.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“You don’t have that kind of time.”

He gave her a puzzled look, then said, “You haven’t been watching. You didn’t even see that bear, did you?”

She did a semipanicked three-sixty of the landscape, which was thankfully devoid of wildlife. “What bear?”

He harrumphed. “I knew it.”

She scrunched her mouth up. “You tricked me.”

“You’re supposed to be looking for the canyon, not watching the ground for snakes. That’s why I’m going first.”

She blinked. So he wasn’t on to her. Thank goodness. “Sorry. It’s just, you’ve got the newspaper photo. And everything looks the same to me, anyway.”

Which was true enough. She’d just about figured out the difference between a mountain and a mesa. The mesa was flat, mesa being the Spanish word for table. She was still working on arroyos and barrancas, which looked identical to her.

Philip gave her a sympathetic smile, and pulled her to his chest, enfolding her in his arms. She sighed, suddenly realizing that was exactly what she’d wanted him to do for the past few hours. She was tired and really wanted to be grouchy, but she liked being with him so much she couldn’t bring herself to be upset about wasting almost the entire day on a wild-goose chase. God, what was wrong with her?

“Shall we call it a day?” he asked, even though it was only about three in the afternoon.

“We haven’t covered the whole area we wanted to check,” she protested, but only halfheartedly. She slid her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. “We should keep going. My boss only pays for three days’ expenses per job, so starting tomorrow I’m on my own dime.”

“He pays a per diem?” Philip asked.

“Only as long as I keep up my success rate,” she joked. But not really. She was lucky he paid any expenses at all. Most bondsmen didn’t.

“You could move in with me,” Philip suggested. His voice was neutral, but she could feel his muscles pull her closer.

“Yeah, that would be a good way to keep myself out of your bed,” she answered with a wry chuckle. Not.

“I have a guest room.” He tipped her chin up. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not a matter of trust, Philip. It’s a matter of prudence.”

“Hmm,” he said, and kissed her.

She gave a hum of enjoyment as she opened to him, loving the taste of him in her mouth and the smell of him surrounding her. She was getting used to touching him, having his body pressed up against hers. She liked it. She liked it a lot. Which was why this whole thing was so dangerous.

But before she could pull away, he did.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “I have an idea.”

So did she. She just hoped his wasn’t the same as hers.

Because then she’d be in big trouble.

Not that she wasn’t already.

“Where are we going?” she asked when they’d gotten back to the Jeep and were bumping down the dirt road.

“I realized we’ve been going about this canyon thing the wrong way.”

“Oh?”

“Didn’t the old ladies say the kids hid out in some kind of ruins in that canyon?”

“That’s how the story went.”

“Well, have we seen any ruins yet?”

“Nope.” She slapped her forehead as it dawned on her where he was going. “Lord, why didn’t we think of that before?”

“Pretty dumb not to check the archaeological maps, eh?”

“Or talk to someone. Do you know anyone in the ruins business?”

He thought for a minute, then nodded. “Yeah. I know someone who works as an archaeologist at the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture in Santa Fe. We could call her.”

Luce didn’t know why the instant he said “her” Luce’s insides suddenly churned into one big, irritated knot. She certainly didn’t want to know how Philip knew “her.” Or how well.

“Sounds good,” she forced herself to say, and turned to look out the passenger window until she could get her frown under control.

“Renata’s great,” he said, oblivious to the fact that Luce didn’t give a tinker’s damn how great Renata was. “She’s one of those women who walks into a room and lights it up with her presence and enthusiasm,” he continued, and Luce set her jaw. “She moved here from somewhere in Europe when she was a teenager and has been studying Indians and ruins ever since. She’s absolutely beautiful,” he said, and Luce wanted to lean over and strangle the breath out of him so he’d stop talking about the stupid b— “You’d never know she just turned seventy.”

Seven—

Luce whipped him a glance and he returned a guileless smile. The rat. He’d known exactly what he was doing, and her reaction to it.

“Delightful. Can’t wait to meet her,” Luce said. And wondered about the sad state of her sanity. But she didn’t have time to wonder too much, because just then Philip’s cell phone rang.

He grabbed it off the console and glanced at the screen. “It’s Ted. Maybe he found something for us. Hey, buddy,” he said into the phone. “What’s up?” He listened for a moment, then said, “We’re heading that way right now.” After another moment he looked at his watch and said, “Sure, we’ll meet you there about six.” Another pause, then a grin. “Yep, she’ll be with me.”

When he hung up, she tipped her head at him expectantly. “Well?”

“Says he might have something of interest concerning Clyde Tafota.”

“He’s turned up?”

“No, something about a job he did recently.” He shot her a wink. “I really think Ted just wants to meet you. I said we’d meet him at the Shamrock Slipper for dinner. My treat.”

She wasn’t sure quite how to respond to any of that. So she settled for, “Why would he want to meet me? How does he even know about me?”

“I may have mentioned you in passing.”

She hiked a brow.

“A couple times.”

She hiked the other brow.

“I may have confessed I thought you were hot.”

Her jaw dropped. “Do grown men really say stuff like that?”

“Only when they’re not thinking straight.” He gave her a little-boy smile. “Anyway, that’s probably why he wants to meet you.”

She covered her mouth and stifled a laugh. “Oh, my God, Philip. What am I going to do with you?”

His smile turned lopsided, and she held up the other hand as she laughed, waving it in a “stop” gesture. “Don’t answer that.”

“We could start with dinner and a movie,” he suggested, grinning.

“There’s a movie theater in Piñon Lake?”

“No. But we can rent one and go to my place after dinner.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind, O’Donnaugh,” she said with amused exasperation.

She’d never experienced this kind of pursuit before—where she was the quarry being run to ground. But it also felt…good. Nobody’d ever wanted her this much, in quite this way. Not a nameless he-just-wants-to-jump-her-bones way, but in a real, he-wants-Luce-Montgomery way. Philip had made it clear he wanted her, but he really wanted her.

“Determination,” he said. “That’s what makes me a good cop.”

“I can believe it,” she muttered, affection and admiration all mixed up with a rising dose of alarm. How could she possibly keep this man at arm’s length?

“I guess it’s only fair to warn you,” he said, and suddenly she wondered if she really wanted to keep him at arm’s length.

“About what?” she asked, even more alarmed because somehow, deep down, she already knew the answer.

Then he looked her straight in the eye and smiled. “I always get what I’m after,” he said. “Always.”

Since they had plenty of time for the trip back to Piñon Lake, Philip made a stop in Santa Fe at the museum to see if Renata was in town or out on a dig somewhere.

“Dr. Jesper will be back from Albuquerque tomorrow,” they were informed.

Philip left her a note, and they walked around the collections for a few minutes before leaving.

“Some beautiful things,” Luce said as they admired the ancient pottery. “These are awesome. How old did you say they were?”

“These are a few hundred years old, but some of the pueblos around here make some pretty good reproductions if you’re interested.”

“Yeah? I may have to think about switching my collection.”

“You collect pottery?”

She gave him a goofy smile. “Um, not exactly.”

“What do you collect?”

She stuck her tongue inside her cheek. “It’s a little embarrassing to admit.”

“Dildos?”

She barked out a burst of laughter and smacked him lightly on the arm. “No! Not— I collect Santas.”

“Santas? As in ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas?” She nodded and he broke out in a wide grin. “You’re kidding me.”

She smothered her own grin and poked him in the chest. “One more word and you’re a dead man, O’Donnaugh.”

He lifted his hands as he laughed. “Okay, I surrender.”

“I’ve collected Santas ever since I can remember,” she said, and rubbed her arms up and down as if cold. “My mom said Santa’s image was a comfort to me when I was first adopted, so she indulged my obsession.”

Philip’s laughter caught in his throat. He pulled her to him and kissed her temple. “Well, I think it’s sweet. We’ll have to find one for you with a southwest flair. Maybe one landing on a cactus in the fireplace or something.”

She chuckled and nestled in his embrace. “You don’t think it’s silly?”

“Nothing wrong with silly,” he said, and kissed her. “So, do you have fantasies about Santa, too? You know, like maybe after he’s done with the presents he sneaks into your bedroom and—”

“Philip!” she squeaked, scandalized, pushing out of his arms with a giggle. “You are so bad!” She marched off toward the front entrance.

“Just wondering if I should get myself a red suit,” he called after her, raising the curious head of a guard along the way.

By the time he’d chased her back to where they’d parked the Jeep, she was laughing and put up only a token fight when he swept her into his arms and gave her a proper kiss. The one he’d been wanting to give her all day.

“You need to quit doing that in uniform,” she sighed when he finally let her up for air. “People are getting the wrong impression.”

“Are they?” he asked, giving her a last quick one for the road. “I don’t think so.”

Ted’s sheriff’s cruiser was already parked out front when Philip pulled up to the Shamrock Slipper. He was excited about getting some possible good information on Clyde Tafota. But he was even more excited about showing off Luce to his friends.

Half the town would be at the Slipper, either for happy hour or dinner, and he knew they’d be curious about the pretty stranger staying solo at the Lakeview Motel, it not being tourist season and all. He also knew Betsy would have informed anyone who’d listen that he’d taken the lady out in his Jeep for two days running, on what he said was a case. He could just imagine the speculation. Usually he was more circumspect with his affairs, but for some reason he wanted everyone to know Luce was his. Even though they weren’t exactly having an affair.

Yet.

Ted was at the bar chatting with Betsy and Rich, the bartender, and a few other locals, when Philip ushered Luce into the restaurant with a hand to the small of her back. Everyone looked up and greeted him, and he took his time exchanging a few words at each table. “This is Luce Montgomery,” he said, “She’s helping me on the Soffit and Dickson robbery.”

Most people wouldn’t pry into a police investigation, but he knew they were all curious, especially about the fate of Jim Kendall, who was currently sitting in the county jail despite his protests of innocence. He and his sister, Suzy—Dickson’s secretary—were native Piñon Lakers, their late parents having settled there some fifty-odd years ago. So naturally the townspeople mostly believed Jim, despite the circumstantial evidence to the contrary.

Anyway, no one asked why Luce was helping with the investigation, or who exactly she was, for which Philip was grateful. He didn’t want word getting around he was working with a bounty hunter. Not until they’d settled this Clyde Tafota thing one way or another.

When they finally made it around to the bar, he introduced Luce to Ted, and Betsy led them to a small square table in the back. The whole time they were taking their seats and Betsy was chatting on about blue-plate specials and fresh trout, Ted sat staring at Luce with a puzzled frown.

“I’ll just have my usual, darlin’,” Ted told Betsy, and studied Luce as she decided what to order.

Philip was getting more and more annoyed with his friend. Not that he had anything to worry about. Ted was on the downside of his fifties, balding and showing the effects of a decade-long crush on Betsy and hanging out at the Slipper whenever possible.

“I’ll have the green chile relleños,” Philip said irritatedly. “And Luce will have the enchiladas.” He grabbed the menus and handed them to Betsy. “Specialty of the house,” he said at Luce’s look of surprise at his choosing for her. “Do you prefer shrimp or chicken?”

“Shrimp,” she added after a short hesitation and a huff.

“Bring a pitcher of draft, too, Betsy.”

“Sure thing, Chief O’Donnaugh.” The waitress scurried off.

“All right, what’s the deal, Ted?” he asked his friend, before Luce could start in on him. Ted’s eyes seemed glued to Luce’s face.

Sitting on the side between them, Ted tapped the table with his fingers and ignored Philip’s question. “Luce Montgomery, you say?”

Luce nodded. “That’s right.”

“Have I met you somewhere before?”

Her lips pursed. “I don’t think so. This is my first time in New Mexico.”

“Ever been to California?”

“Santa Cruz. But that was a while back. And once in Santa Clara for about five hours.”

“Strange,” he said. “I swear I’ve seen you before. Philip?” He looked at him questioningly.

Philip shook his head. “We just met a couple of days ago.”

“Huh. Well, it’ll come to me.”

“In the meantime, what have you got on Clyde Tafota?”

“Ah, right.” Ted extracted a couple of papers from his breast pocket and handed them to Philip. “I doubt if it’s anything, but his name came up in conjunction with another investigation.”

“Another one?” Luce said, mirroring Philip’s own disbelief. “What kind of investigation?”

Philip had confided Luce’s real occupation to Ted, so there was no need to be circumspect.

“It’s kind of strange,” Ted said. “You know the old case I told you about that I reopened recently?”

“The Hidalgo murder investigation? From twenty-eight years ago?”

“Exactly. Well, because I flagged the names involved, I was informed about this other incident. A missing private plane—a two-seater—disappeared last Friday night off a runway. Hidalgo Industries owns it.”

“What does that have to do with Clyde?”

“Seems Clyde Tafota has been Hidalgo’s aircraft mechanic since forever. He’d repaired this plane before, last time about two months ago. The report claims the plane experienced engine trouble again on Friday morning and had to make an emergency landing at a primitive airstrip south of here. Tafota was called in to fix it, after which it was stolen off the runway.”

“Last Friday night?” Luce asked, sitting up.

“Yep.”

Philip digested that. “Does the report mention if he can fly a plane?”

Ted nodded. “Yep. He sure can.”

“He’s a pilot?” Luce said, sinking down again. “Oh, man. This changes everything.”

“But according to the airport supervisor, Tafota left by car around midafternoon after completing his repairs.”

“Do you think he had anything to do with the plane’s disappearance?” Philip asked.

Ted shrugged. “Who knows? Hidalgo Industries specializes in computerized weapons technology for the military. The plane was on a routine delivery of missile guidance chips to the Rocky Mountain Arsenal in Colorado. We assume whoever took the plane was after those chips.”

“That makes sense,” Luce said. “But Clyde?” She looked at Philip.

“Based on his squeaky-clean record it seems doubtful,” he said. “But I have to admit, his name keeps cropping up in the most unlikely places. Too many times to be a coincidence.”

“I reckon that plane will turn up pretty soon,” Ted said. “Tough to hide one of those suckers. Anyway, I thought you’d want to know about the incident.”

Betsy brought their meals, and the conversation turned to other things, during all of which Ted persisted in giving Luce occasional searching looks. Philip eventually relaxed about it, since he assumed it must be a case of mistaken identity, and Ted would figure out sooner or later who she reminded him of.

As usual, the food was delicious.

“This tastes great,” Luce said. “Even if I prefer ordering my own meals….” She gave Philip a pointed look.

“You need to learn to trust me,” he said, and lifted a forkful of his chile relleño. “Here. You’ve gotta try this.” He extended the fork across the table and offered her the morsel.

At first he didn’t think she’d take it. She wavered, looking from it to him.

All at once it was important that she did.

He met her eyes and wordlessly willed her to accept his offering.

And suddenly there was more going on between them than him wanting her to taste his favorite dish. Something a lot more basic and primitive. Something to do with male and female, and power and dominance.

He felt himself stir when, finally, she hesitantly opened her mouth and let him feed her the bite.

Desire, carnal and territorial, swirled to life between his thighs as she chewed, making him shift in his seat. Needing to touch her any way he could, he reached out to rub a drop of salsa from her lip with his thumb. She swallowed.

Philip met Ted’s gaze, saw him wink, and managed to return his beer-mug salute without grabbing Luce and kissing her in front of him and everybody else in the place.

To claim what was his.

Because she wasn’t his.

And she was never going to be his.

He had to force himself to remember that. He might talk her into a night or two of mutual pleasure, but sex didn’t mean belonging.

She’d told him over and over she wasn’t into settling down. And he wasn’t into falling for another woman who’d be there for him one day and gone the next.

The strange thing was, since moving to Piñon Lake, as much as it went against his natural inclination, he’d confined his romantic interludes to times when the tourist seasons swelled the tiny hamlet with women looking for a nice vacation and a quick fling. He’d known going into each affair that it would last only so long, and then the woman would fly back to her own life in Los Angeles or Denver or New York City. It had never bothered him before. In fact, he’d insisted on it.

So, what was different about Luce Montgomery that had him clenching his jaw at the thought of doing the same with her?

Damn, was he confused.

Suddenly Ted snapped his fingers. “I have it!” he exclaimed and pointed at Luce. “I know who you remind me of.”

“Who?” Her skepticism was apparent.

“Maria Santander. You know,” Ted said excitedly. “The woman they just found! Her remains, I mean. The murderess from my case twenty-eight years ago!”

“What?” Luce said, wide-eyed. “I remind you of a dead murderess?”

Ted grinned and waved her off. “No, she’s not a murderess. I mean, we thought she’d killed her husband, but it turns out she was murdered, too. So it’s cast doubt on whether she did kill her husband.”

“You mean the woman from the Hidalgo case? Maria Hidalgo?” Philip interjected, finally putting it together.

“Exactly. Maria Hidalgo Santander after she was married. You must have seen her picture in the papers. Jeez, Luce is a dead ringer for her. Except for the hair color, of course.”

Philip glanced over at Luce, who was sitting with her jaw down to her knees, looking totally incredulous. He shook his head. “I really can’t remember what the woman looked like.”

“Hey, who’s got a newspaper?” Ted called as he stood and scanned the restaurant. “Betsy! Where’s the recycle bin? I need to find last week’s headlines.” He hurried off when the waitress stuck her head out of the kitchen.

Luce turned to Philip. “What the hell is he talking about?”

“An old case of Ted’s from when he first started with the sheriff’s office. One of the Hidalgo heirs, Maria, disappeared right after her husband, Peter Santander, was murdered. Her remains turned up recently out in the desert. I understand Ted’s reopened both cases.”

“And he thinks, what? That I’m some relative, or something?”

Philip laughed. “Nah. I think he just has the case on the brain. You know how it is, you eat, sleep and breathe a case until you solve it. Ted probably sees the Santander woman everywhere these days, like a bad penny.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He made a face. “You know what I mean. But now that you mention it, I think there was some kind of lost kid involved. Maybe he thinks it’s you.” He gave her a grin to show he was kidding, but instead of smiling at the joke, her face just went deathly pale.

“A kid?”

All at once a creepy sensation skidded up Philip’s spine. “I’m not really sure about the details,” he said, backpedaling, suddenly remembering what she’d said about being adopted. Whoa. Insert foot, idiot. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. There’s no connection, I’m sure.”

She smiled weakly and gave her head a shake. “Yeah, it’s ridiculous. There’s no way…”

But when Ted came back with the paper and silently handed it to her, she stared at the picture and went absolutely still.

“Luce?” Philip asked softly, and put a hand on her arm. “Sweetheart?”

“Oh, my God,” she said. “She does look like me.”

Chapter 7

“Let me see,” Philip asked, but Luce’s fingers wouldn’t relinquish the newspaper. She was gripping it so tightly she thought it might tear, but for some reason she couldn’t let up.

With heart pounding, she studied the grainy picture for an endless moment, searching the stranger’s face for a trace of familiarity, other than the echoes of her own features. But there was nothing.

A rush of relief, mixed with a puff of nervous laughter, escaped her. “Wow. That’s weird.” She passed the newspaper to Philip, who was watching her anxiously. “There’s a certain resemblance. But she has dark hair. Look at me. No way are we related.”

Philip scrutinized the news photo, then looked at her and back at the paper. “Huh,” he grunted noncommittally.

She didn’t want to ask, but couldn’t help herself. She turned to Ted. “Philip said there was a child involved?”

He nodded. “A little girl, about three years old. We recovered the mother’s car shortly after the murder. It had crashed off an embankment. The kid’s car seat was intact and since there was no blood, we assumed they both escaped alive. But the woman’s remains were found two weeks ago about a quarter mile from the crash site. She was shot three times. We’re still looking for the toddler’s remains. Hopefully they weren’t carried off by some predator.”

Luce winced, pain gnawing at her insides.

“Sorry,” Ted said.

“The poor little girl.” She tried to paste on a smile, but failed. Some tough bounty hunter, the men must think. But she’d never been able to hear about bad things happening to kids without getting upset. “I can’t even think about what she went through.”

Philip silently handed her back the newspaper. Luce was torn between throwing it into the nearest trash can or taking it back to her room to read about the little girl and the woman who looked so eerily like herself. Suddenly, she felt nauseous.

“Want some dessert?” Philip gently asked. “Or another beer?”

“No thanks. I—” She looked down and realized she’d unconsciously twisted the newspaper between her hands into a long roll. Abruptly she stood up. “I’m sorry. I need to go. I’ll, um…” She fumbled in her purse for her wallet until Philip stilled her hand with his.

“I’ve got this. Hang on and I’ll drive you.”

“No! I mean, no, thanks. It’s just a block. I need some air. You stay and visit with Ted.”

Before he could protest, she said, “Nice to meet you,” to Ted, and rushed out the door, hurrying down the street toward the Lakeview Motel.

She felt like a fool. She didn’t know why she was so unnerved over this. After all, the woman couldn’t possibly have anything to do with her.

And yet, all she could think of was how desperately she wanted to talk to her mother.

Halting on the boardwalk, with unsteady hands she pulled her cell phone from her purse and somehow managed to punch in the speed dial for home.

“Hi, Mom,” she said when Daphne Montgomery finally answered on the fourth ring.

“Honey! Are you all right?” were her mother’s first words as she instantly picked up on Luce’s distress.

With a shudder of relief, Luce knew everything would be okay.

Everything spilled out of her, about Maria Santander, and how for a stricken moment she’d thought she’d found her birth mother only to have her yanked away again, and all the feelings of fear and trauma that had swamped back over her—feelings she hadn’t had for years—when she realized it wasn’t her mother. And even about Philip, and the completely different kind of feelings she was beginning to have for him.

Her mother listened to all of this with murmurs of encouragement and support, with occasional questions and words of wisdom tossed in for good measure. By the time it was all out, Luce had made it back to her motel room and flopped on the bed. Now, staring up at the ceiling as she talked, as usual, her mom’s strength and love made everything seem a thousand percent better.

Her parents had always been candid about her adoption, so there was nothing more her mother could add except to agree that it was unlikely Luce’s mother would be brunette. Not with her blond hair and light skin. Unfortunately, not much more than that was known about her background.

“Now, tell me about this handsome police chief you’ve been seeing,” her mother urged.

Luce smiled through the sigh she wasn’t able to stop. “I haven’t been seeing him, Mom. We’ve been working together.”

“Sure you have.”

“Well, maybe a little more than work.”

“I knew it. When can I meet him?”

Luce gave a choked little laugh. “Mom!”

“I know you like him, I can hear it in your voice. Does he treat you well?”

“Yes. He does. It’s just…”

“He’s a terrible kisser?”

“Mom, really!” She chortled at her mom’s incorrigible attitude to life.

“Because if he’s a terrible kisser, you should dump him right now. No sense spending the rest of your life—”

“He’s not a terrible kisser, Mom. In fact, he’s the best—” She broke off abruptly. There were some things even her mother didn’t need to know. “Anyway, none of that matters because I’ll be coming home anyday now. As soon as I catch this skip. Philip and I will probably never see each other again after that.”

Her mother made a noise of regret. “Seems a shame, if you ask me. Perfect waste of a good kisser. What do you have against settling down, anyway? Your father and I have always been very happy together, especially after you came along. I wish—”

Luce knew exactly what her mother wished. Her parents put up with her ever-moving lifestyle with a philosophical attitude. But they never stopped hoping she’d find a nice young man, get married and give them grandkids.

“I know, Mom.”

“Just promise me you won’t push Philip away like you’ve done all the others. This one sounds really special. Leave a door open, even if you don’t think you want to walk through it.”

“I’ll think about it, Mom.”

“I wouldn’t want you spending your best years searching for something that was right there for the taking.”

“I love you, Mom,” she said, because there was nothing else she could say to that. Her mother meant well. She just didn’t understand. It wasn’t love Luce was searching for—she had plenty of that. It was something…else.

“I love you, too, honey.”

Luce lay there on the bed for a long time, trying to sort through the chaos. Without much success. Thoughts whirled around in her head and feelings in her body like the dancing dervishes she’d once seen on the National Geographic travel channel. Until they were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

Instinctively she knew who it was. Philip. Come to check on her.

Great.

She was fine. And she had no desire to see anyone. The circles under her eyes were probably solid black, and her nerves were still raw and jumpy from her emotional upheaval about Maria Hidalgo. In short, she was a mess.

He knocked again. She shouldn’t have turned on the lamp. Maybe then he’d have thought she was sleeping and gone away. With a sigh, she dragged herself from the bed and opened the door.

“How you doing?” he tentatively asked, his hands stuck in pockets.

“Okay.” She made an attempt at a smile.

“Want some company? Just to talk,” he added.

“Not tonight. I, um…” She shook her head, unable to come up with anything coherent.

“Okay,” he said, bent down and picked up her briefcase which she hadn’t noticed was sitting on the ground next to his boot. “You left this in the Jeep.”

She nodded and took it from him.

He bounced on his toes, then turned and slowly started walking toward the Jeep. “See you tomorrow.”

“Probably not. Think I’ll leave Clyde to you and head back to St. Louis in the morning,” she said, shocking even herself. When had she decided that?

“What?” He whipped around. “Why?”

Good question. It was the restlessness taking over. She felt agitated, impatient, like she needed to be doing something. Now. Not just hiking around the desert and kissing cute men.

“We’re never going to find Clyde Tafota. He’s long gone.”

“And you know this how?”

“He has a plane, a stolen fortune in cash and computer chips, and speaks Spanish. He’s in Costa Rica by now on a beach with an umbrella drink in his hand, making deals.”

“That’s a lot of assumptions.”

She gripped the briefcase in front of her chest, like a shield. “Good ones.”

“So you’re just going to give up? On everything?”

She had a sneaking feeling he wasn’t talking about Clyde anymore. She ignored his overture. She couldn’t think about that stuff now. “Call it a calculated retreat. If he’s not in New Mexico, I can work this just as easily from home. At no cost to me.”

He nodded slowly. “I see.” He put his hands on his hips. “This is about that woman’s picture, isn’t it?”

She narrowed her eyes. “No. Why would it be about her?”

“It spooked you. Bad. Talk to me. What are you afraid of, Luce?”

“Nothing.” She set her jaw. “And it’s really none of your business, anyway.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right. Whatever. See you around.” With that, he turned on his boot heel and made for the Jeep.

She watched him, a riot of emotions surging through her. Emotions that would do neither of them any good. There was no place in a life like hers for a man. Not even one like Philip.

Especially not one like Philip.

She stepped back through the door and closed it. But she couldn’t get her feet to move away. Dropping the briefcase on the floor, she leaned her forehead against the door frame.

Her mother’s words came rushing back to her, echoing in her head. Promise me you won’t push Philip away.

Silently, she groaned. Damn her mother’s meddling, anyway.

Damn, damn, damn.

Luce yanked the door open again, and called, “Philip, wait!”

He was about to climb in the Jeep, but paused in the motion, looking none too happy.

She meant to walk, but her feet had other ideas. They ran to him as fast as they could. She threw her arms around him, hugging his stiff torso close.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll miss you.”

She felt him loosen up, just a little. “I’ll miss you, too.” But she could hear the reluctance in his tone.

“And thanks.” She looked up. “For checking on me.”

She gave him a kiss. She hadn’t meant to do that, either, but her mouth was just as disobedient as her feet. And it lasted a lot longer than she intended.

After a moment he deepened the kiss. Catching her up in his arms, he made a sound deep in his throat, a cross between a purr and a growl. It made her insides shiver.

Her head told her to pull away from him. She couldn’t.

Wordlessly his mouth showed her everything she wouldn’t let him say aloud. That he was there for her, for whatever she needed. That he’d listen. And take care of her.

Which scared her even more than the picture of the woman had done.

“Don’t go tomorrow,” he murmured. “Whatever’s wrong, I’ll fix it.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she insisted, confused as hell. “I’m just…”

“A chicken?” he suggested with the barest hint of a smile.

“And you’re a smart-aleck,” she softly retorted, pushing at his chest.

He just held her fast, regarding her hopefully. “Don’t go. At least wait until we’ve chased down this plane angle. We could still find Clyde.”

She closed her eyes, feeling his strong arms hold her, the warmth of his breath caressing her temple. The sensual scratch of his beard on her cheek, which she loved most of all.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and kissed him one last time. “I can’t do this. Any of it. I have to go.”

Before she could change her mind, she slid from his embrace and ran for the door.

“What about your perfect record?” he called after her. “Your professional reputation? What about that P.I. business you wanted so badly?”

She shook her head vehemently, turning for one last look as she went inside. “None of that matters. Goodbye, Philip.”

She slammed the door behind her and leaned her back against it, fighting to keep her composure.

There. That wasn’t so hard. Cut all ties. That’s what had to be done, and she’d done it. It was all good. Now she was free to continue her life the way she liked it. The way she wanted it. There’d be other skips and other paychecks. No hurry for the P.I. business.

There’d be other men, too. Maybe not as perfect as Philip. Maybe not as handsome or sexy. Or as tuned in to her every need.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, and nearly cried when the sagey, piney smell of New Mexico invaded her senses. That wild, piquant, strange-familiar scent that she’d come to associate so intimately with Philip and his wild, piquant kisses.

The sooner she got out of this state the better. Because she’d never be able to smell its exotic scent without wanting Philip O’Donnaugh.

But giving in to those impossible feelings would do nothing but wreak disaster on her life.

She marched to the bathroom and grabbed the can of lavender-scented air freshener under the sink and sprayed it liberally throughout the motel room. If she couldn’t smell sage and pine, maybe she’d forget Philip. And if she forgot him, she might actually have a prayer of driving off tomorrow morning and leaving this place far behind, forever.

And maybe, after about a thousand cans of the stuff, eventually she’d spray away the memory of him completely.

Over his dead body.

Exhausted, Philip rolled into bed earlier than usual that night. Alone.

Damn! He wanted Luce with him.

No way he’d let her leave town before getting her here at least once. Preferably about a hundred times.

What the hell had happened tonight? Why her sudden urgency to get out of town?

It was because of what Ted had told her. That’s when it had all started, when she’d seen the uncanny resemblance between her and Maria Hidalgo. Something about that woman had triggered Luce’s desire to flee. It was weird.

It was also weird that Ted’s old murder case was connected to their two new cases by none other than good old Clyde Tafota.

Philip grimaced in the dark. He should set aside his mind-numbing craving for Luce and instead try to untangle the growing knot of coincidences surrounding Clyde. Attempt to make some sense out of them. If he found those answers, he’d have the ammunition to get her to stay with him. At least long enough to track down Clyde.

He closed his eyes, struggling to relax and do his job, to do what he did best.

Unfortunately, try as he might, nothing came to him. Hell, even if he could concentrate, he realized he just didn’t have enough facts to make the puzzle pieces fit.

Tomorrow he’d take a drive down to Hidalgo Industries in Santa Fe, dig around a little there. See if anything popped up about Clyde and that missing plane. He couldn’t imagine Tafota was involved in stealing military weapons technology, but hey, he would never have pegged him as being involved in a robbery or a St. Louis drug shooting, either.

Yeah, tomorrow that’s what he’d do. But before hitting the road south, he had one other stop to make first. At the Lakeview Motel.

He thought about the handcuffs hanging from his rearview mirror and set his jaw determinedly. He’d hate to use them on her. He really would.

But he had no intention of leaving her behind for this little excursion. She’d just have to wait another day to make her escape.

Tomorrow she was going nowhere—not without him.

The next morning on the way to the motel, Philip prayed Luce hadn’t taken off at the crack of dawn. Well, actually, it still was the crack of dawn. He wasn’t taking any chances.

He patted the back waistband of his uniform slacks, where he’d clipped the handcuffs.

She’d still be there. She had to be.

“Ready?” he asked without preamble when she answered on his second knock. Better to play this cool.

She eyed him and his full uniform warily. “Come to arrest me?”

She was already up, dressed in jeans and a sleek red sweater, and her suitcase and briefcase were sitting by the door. He’d gotten there just in time.

“I thought we’d drive down to Santa Fe today,” he said removing his hat, “and pay Hidalgo Industries a visit.”

“Philip, I told you I was leaving this morning.”

“You didn’t mean it,” he informed her implacably.

“Is that so?”

He walked past her into the middle of the room, turned and regarded her, hands on hips. “That’s right.”

She licked her lips. He could tell he’d surprised her this time.

He decided to go the logical route. “You keep saying you’re not afraid. Of me or that newspaper photo. If that’s really the case, then why run away?”

“I’m not running away.”

He hiked his brows at her packed suitcase. Standing in the doorway, she mirrored his hands-on-hips stance—though hers lacked the added authority of his side-holstered pistol.

“Look. This is a perfectly reasonable business decision. It has nothing to do with you, or a twenty-eight-year-old murder.”

“No? Seems to me the guy you’re hunting is still at large. And we just got a major clue to tracking him down. What part of that is not running away?”

They stared at each other for a long moment. He got the depressing feeling he was going to lose this discussion. Luce was not a woman easily pushed or intimidated. Not that he was trying to do either.

Okay, maybe he was trying to do both, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted her too badly.

Just then her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her back pocket. “Yeah?” she said without taking her eyes off his.

After a few seconds she said, “Still on the milk carton. He may have a plane and skipped the country.”

For a minute or two she listened wordlessly to what the caller was saying. Philip figured it was her boss with some kind of update.

She had a pretty good poker face. If he hadn’t been watching so carefully he’d have totally missed the flash of reluctance, then disgruntled acceptance that zipped across her face.

“Okay, Arthur,” she finally said, jaw tight. “I’ll let you know.”

Good old Arthur. Philip wanted to hug the man.

“Shall we?” he asked, strolling back to her. He held the door open as she snatched up her briefcase, then closed and locked it securely behind them before getting the Jeep door for her.

She looked angry.

No, it wasn’t anger. More like worry…creeping toward panic.

Secretly, he smiled to himself. Panic was good. Because he knew damned well she wasn’t the type to feel panicked about her job. Her job was her life. So only one thing he could figure, it must be him she felt panicked about.

Because she wanted him as much as he wanted her. And she’d just lost her best chance for escape.

Oh, yeah. She was as good as his.

“So. Hidalgo Industries,” she said as she tossed her briefcase in the back and stowed her weapon in the strong box. One thing about the woman, she bounced back quickly. “You’ve got a plan?”

He turned the Jeep south. “We need to find out the connection between the missing plane and Clyde. If the Hidalgo people think he took it. His possible motive, destination, etcetera.”

“Right.” She leaned her head on the seat back.

“Bad phone call?” he ventured after a bit, curious as to what had changed her mind. He was man enough to admit it hadn’t been him. This time.

She puffed out a breath. “My boss calling to remind me there are only four days left before he has to pay out on Clyde’s forfeited bail.”

“How much?”

“Thirty-five thousand.”

“Ouch.” Philip put two and two together. “And he’s counting on you to save his skin.”

“I don’t get paid, either, if I don’t bring Clyde in before the deadline. Besides, I hate letting Arthur down. He’s like family to me.”

That last would neatly explain why she was still here. And the worried look on her face. “I trust it works both ways.”

“It does.”

“Good.” Hopefully more like a kindly uncle than a kissing cousin. Better yet, a portly grandfather.

Philip glanced at his watch, shaking off a momentary stab of jealousy. “It’s still pretty early. I thought we could stop in Taos for breakfast.”

She rolled her head and gave him a dry smile. “Good thing we’re doing so much walking on this case, or I’d gain about a hundred pounds the way you’re feeding me all the time.”

“I like feeding you,” he admitted. The memory of her eating from his fork last night drifted through his body, making his throat ache. “I suppose it’s a guy thing.”

She chuckled. “You Tarzan, me Jane?”

“Something like that.” He slanted her a look. “Don’t you like me taking care of you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why not?”

Her gaze slid downward, avoiding his. “I should take care of myself. I’m perfectly capable, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. But…?”

Her tone turned reluctant. “It’s kind of nice. As a change.” She lifted a shoulder. “And you seem so determined to do it.”

He checked his side mirror to hide his smile. “Then why not enjoy it? What’s the problem?”

She studied her feet. “I’m worried about what you want from me in return.”

“You mean your body?”

Her eyes widened at his bluntness.

He reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Luce, if you share your body with me, I want it to be because you want to,” he said. “Not because you feel obligated. I’m not like that.”

“I know you’re not,” she said, and fell silent.

He didn’t push it, because he believed she really did know that about him. And, despite his earlier handcuff fantasies, he truly wanted her to make up her own mind. He just wanted her to choose to be with him.

He didn’t know what he’d do if she decided not to. He may have to reconsider those cuffs….

He wasn’t too worried, though.

After all, he had the whole day to convince her.

Chapter 8

Having a plan always made life easier.

Too bad Philip couldn’t formulate a rational one concerning Luce Montgomery.

After breakfast they sped toward Santa Fe and their appointment with Hidalgo Industries. As he drove, Philip waffled between two different options. Option one: mount an all-out campaign of seduction on Luce, or option two: take his time and insinuate himself deeper into her feelings, eventually winning her that way.

The last option was probably the more honorable, but he might not have enough time to make it work. They could find Clyde in the meantime, or she could change her mind again and leave at any moment.

Not to mention the fact that he’d tried that strategy before, with the woman back in California, and it had backfired on him big-time. Her new lover had used the first option and succeeded in just two days, where it had taken Philip months to fail miserably at the second.

He was even less certain what he’d do with Luce’s feelings if he actually managed to swing them in his favor. The very least he could do was take them seriously.

Was he ready to get serious with a woman again? Any woman? To take the chance that once again it might all go south? Nurse another broken heart as he watched her wave and take off to parts unknown at the next emotional crisis?

The whole thing scared the scrap out of him. Maybe seduction was the way to go, after all.

Yeah, option one. Seduction was the best plan.

Philip had deliberately worn his full-blown police uniform to this interview because Hidalgo Industries was used to dealing with the military, and regardless of his qualifications they would probably disregard a law enforcement official wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He also thought it might offset any misgivings they had for him bringing along a bounty hunter on an official inquiry.

He just hoped going to Hidalgo Industries wouldn’t upset Luce any more than she already was about Maria Hidalgo. With any luck, they’d run into some of the rest of the family, and she’d see for herself any resemblance was purely coincidental, putting to rest any residual worries she might still harbor about that.

And if not… Hell, he’d just have to ask Ted to look at the lost toddler situation a bit more carefully. He didn’t believe the little girl could possibly have survived, let alone have ended up in St. Louis. But he knew crazier things had happened in this world.

The uniform strategy worked. They got in immediately to see Senior Vice President Anna Hidalgo.

He could see Luce was trying not to stare, but was having a hard time of it. Anna Hidalgo was younger than he’d expected for a VP, maybe midthirties, and dressed in an expensive-looking business suit that had to have come from New York, if not Paris.

She also had light-brown hair.

After introductions she ushered them into her plush office, and said, slightly puzzled, “Please, have a seat. This is about our missing Beechcraft airplane? I thought the Taos County Sheriff was handling the case.”

“Well, we’re actually here about the airplane’s mechanic, Clyde Tafota.” Philip quickly outlined what he and Luce were after. “And we’re interested in your opinion as to whether Mr. Tafota was involved in the theft of your plane.”

Anna Hidalgo leaned back in her stylish office chair and steepled her fingers. Philip didn’t see a striking resemblance between her and Luce, but they didn’t look strikingly different, either. He wondered what relation the VP was to the dead woman.

“Naturally, we believe the shipment of missile guidance chips was the real target of the thieves,” she said, “and the plane just went along for the ride, if you will.”

“How bulky was the shipment?” Philip asked.

“There were four packing boxes of components, each measuring two feet by two feet.”

“Were they heavy?”

She tipped her head. “About twelve pounds each. Why?”

He glanced at Luce. His gaze seemed to jerk her out of some disagreeable inner thought. “Not very big or heavy,” she remarked, surprising him that she’d actually been following the conversation.

“No,” he agreed, and turned back to Ms. Hidalgo. He’d better keep the lead. Luce looked like she was about to bolt at any second. “Those cartons would be easily transportable without taking the plane,” he observed.

Ms. Hidalgo considered. “Well, that’s true, I suppose.”

“Was there anything else onboard?” he asked. “Something of value besides the shipment?”

She looked baffled. “Not that I can think of. Are you saying you think the plane wasn’t stolen because of the chips?”

He shook his head. “Not necessarily.” Then he asked her a few questions about Clyde and his employment record with Hidalgo, which seemed to be straightforward and uneventful.

“Still, the timing works for him to be involved. The plane disappeared the night after the robbery at the Soffit and Dickson Law Offices.”

“I can’t imagine Mr. Tafota would be involved in either the chip theft, the office robbery or anything else criminal. He’s been a model employee for over thirty years,” Ms. Hidalgo said.

“I agree it’s not his style. And his family hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, which you’d think they would if he’d made such a sudden change in ethics.”

“I just can’t see him stealing a plane with a military shipment on board. He’d have to know that would involve significant federal charges. It would make no sense if the other things you’re looking at him for aren’t that serious.”

Philip tended to agree, and he said so. “But maybe he’s been dragged into something against his will. Do you happen to have a photo of the plane? I’d like to fax it around to various airports with Clyde’s picture to see if they’ve been spotted.”

“Of course, but the sheriff’s already doing that. I gave them one when I reported the theft.”

“If they’re following the chips, they’ll be concentrating on different locations. I’d be following Clyde.”

Ms. Hidalgo nodded and opened a desk drawer, extracting a printout showing a small aircraft in side and top views.

He stood and took it from her, glancing at Luce. She sprang to her feet, as well, shifting back and forth as Ms. Hidalgo came around her desk to escort them back to reception.

“Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?” Luce blurted out as they walked down a thickly carpeted hallway.

Again, Ms. Hidalgo looked surprised. “Well, I—”

“Are you related to the woman they found out in the desert? Maria Hidalgo Santander?”

A sad smile came to the other woman’s face. “So you heard about that? Yes. Unfortunately, Maria was my aunt. Though I was too young at the time to remember her or her husband, Peter. I was only four or five. A horrible story.”

Luce looked as if she was about to ask something else, but just then a man burst out of one of the offices along the hall.

“Anna!” he nearly shouted, despite being only a few feet away.

“¿Sí, papa?”

The older man, apparently her father, spoke to her in rapid Spanish, none of which Philip understood. At first glance he’d thought the father was gray-haired, but with a start realized his hair was ash blond. It was strange hearing such fluent Spanish being spoken by a blond. It didn’t sound like the usual California or New Mexico Hispanic Spanish he was used to hearing, either.

Ms. Hidalgo turned to them. “May I present my father, CEO of Hidalgo Industries, Donald Hidalgo.” She introduced them in turn. “They’re looking for Clyde Tafota.”

Donald Hidalgo spun to them abruptly, pinning Philip with an assessing glare. When he saw Luce his face froze, and Philip could swear it went a shade paler.

But Hidalgo recovered quickly. “Tafota?” he snapped, eyes narrowing. “What do you want with him?”

Philip offered his hand politely, but kept his silence, counting on Ms. Hidalgo to fill it. Which she did, explaining their presence and interest.

“In the future, I’d prefer all inquiries to go through our attorney,” Donald Hidalgo stated in a flowing, sophisticated English, then strode back into his office. He didn’t once look at Luce again.

“Sorry about that.” Ms. Hidalgo continued toward reception. “My father has been under a lot of stress lately, what with the theft of the shipment and the investigation of his sister’s murder.”

“No problem.” Philip put a hand to the small of Luce’s back and urged her along when she just stood staring after Donald Hidalgo. At the front desk he passed Ms. Hidalgo his business card. “Please, give me a call if you think of anything else.”

He propelled Luce out to the Jeep with an arm around her shoulders. She didn’t object, so he knew she must be miles away.

“Okay,” he said when they got there. “What gives?”

“Did you see them?” she asked edgily.

“What?”

“The pictures. In her office.”

He was embarrassed to admit he hadn’t noticed any pictures out of the ordinary. Just some family photos on Ms. Hidalgo’s desk. “Uh, no. What were they?”

“Family photos.”

“Okaaaay…”

“Half of the people in them were light-haired. Even some blondes.”

“Ah. Like Donald Hidalgo.”

She locked eyes with him. “They all looked like me,” she said, almost desperately. “Not exactly like me, not like Maria. But close enough. I could be…”

“A long-lost cousin,” he completed when she didn’t.

She squeezed her eyes shut, wrapped her arms around her midriff, and let out a soft noise. Suddenly she started walking away. Rapidly. Increasing to a run.

He was so stunned that for a moment he didn’t move. Not again. Where the hell was she going?

He took off after her. “Luce!”

“Go away!”

“Luce, stop!”

“No! I have to leave.”

He caught up to her easily. He grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her rigid body. She was panting. And trembling.

She struggled against his hold. “Let me go, Philip.”

“I have no intention of letting you go anywhere.” He cursed when her foot whacked into his shin.

“I don’t need you!”

“Damn it, woman! I swear I’ll get out the handcuffs!”

She made one last attempt to wriggle out of his arms, then the fight went out of her. She sagged against him, burying her face in his neck.

“Why?” Her voice was muffled, her breath hot against his skin.

“Because I care about you,” he said. “You may be able to run away from me and our attraction, but you can’t run away from this.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she muttered.

The woman had some major denial issues. “If you think these people are your birth family, you have to do something about it.”

“They’re not my family.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just am.”

“Then what in the world has you so upset?”

“They’re not my family,” she repeated, and for a moment he didn’t understand. Then he got it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, and hugged her closer. He could think of any number of arguments he could present on both sides, but experience had taught him a thing or two about women. Right now was not the time to convince her she needed more information to go on before making that decision.

He kissed her hair. “I know just what you need,” he said.

“Oh?” She raised her head. Her expression was skeptical, but at least the look of desperation had fled. “And what’s that?”

“You need to go shopping.”

Her forehead pleated in surprise. “Huh?”

“Come on. Let’s be tourists.”

Hidalgo Industries was on the outskirts of Santa Fe, so he drove first to Starbucks and double-parked while he jumped out and bought her a decaf mocha latte with double whipped cream, and then to the lot next to St. Francis Cathedral.

Personally, he hated shopping, and he’d long ago made the rounds of the Santa Fe historic district with its tasteful Southwestern galleries and artsy-fartsy clothing and jewelry boutiques. However, Luce needed a break from reality, and if there was one thing his mom and sister had taught him it was that for most women, shopping cured a multitude of ills.

They strolled around the Plaza where street vendors hawked their wares from Mexican blankets on the sidewalk, and through the pricey but fun and colorful shops that lined the narrow, uneven streets around it.

His uniform drew stares from the other tourists, which Luce played up by insisting he buy a pair of those silver reflector aviator-style sunglasses and donning them. She thought it was a hoot. At least she couldn’t see him roll his eyes. And he’d put up with anything if it made her smile.

In return, he made her try on about a hundred embroidered dresses and woven tops and velvet skirts with concha belts, in twenty different stores. It didn’t take long before Luce totally forgot her threat to escape custody as soon as she got the chance for a clean getaway.

In one patchouli-scented, meandering boutique, she tried on a particularly luscious number made from some silky grape-colored material that clung to her curves like a second skin and made him seriously think about peeling it off her an inch at a time.

“You should buy that one,” he said with a whistle, lifting his aviator glasses for a better look.

She gave a humorous snort while admiring it in the mirror. “Yeah, right. It would cost me half the finder’s fee for Clyde.” But he could see she was tempted. He was more than tempted. Her eyes met his in the reflection and skittered away. “Besides—” she touched the teeny straps and low neckline “—it’s too cold this time of year for a dress like this.”

“Funny, it has the opposite effect on me,” he remarked, coming up behind her. “It’s definitely warming me up.”

“Philip,” she warned on a whisper as he reached out and grasped her hips, tugging her back against him.

“Let me come in the dressing room with you,” he murmured into her ear, folding his arms around her. “I’ll help you with the zipper.”

She gave a breathless little laugh. “You’d have to arrest us both.”

“Would I?” he asked softly, and turned her in his arms. He bent his head for a succulent kiss, smoothing his hand over the silky fabric of the dress and the delicious curves of her body. “What would you do that I’d have to arrest you for?”

“Philip,” she breathed his name again, but this time it came out more like a gentle pleading. Her beaded nipple poked into his palm as he skimmed it, tantalizingly hard under the supple satin, and he realized she’d had to remove her bra to try on the dress.

He sighed out a low groan, all too conscious of the public setting. He kissed her again, shallow but intense, and let her go.

“Maybe you’d better not buy it, after all,” he said on a low growl. “I doubt you’d ever see St. Louis again.”

Luce’s fingers shook as she fumbled with the invisible zipper and spaghetti straps of the dusty-mauve charmeuse dress. For an insane second she thought about asking Philip to help, but shot that thought away, far and fast, as soon as she caught herself thinking it.

Oh, man, she was having one hell of a day.

Between the painful push of the Hidalgos, the guilty thought of Arthur and the devastating pull of Philip O’Donnaugh, she didn’t know which way to turn.

She sank onto the narrow bench in the dressing room and bent over at the waist, taking deep breaths. The dress slipped from her shoulders and she slid her arms free.

She had to pull herself together. Take hold of herself. Get a grip. And decide what to do about all three of those situations.

She’d just gotten the shaking under control when two boots appeared under the dressing room curtain, and it parted a crack.

“Are you okay?” Philip asked, peering in at her.

She sat up hastily. Only to realize she was naked from the waist up. Philip realized it a fraction of a second later. His gaze fastened on her bare breasts for an endless moment, then raised to her eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a whole battle played out in his expression.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say, making no effort to conceal her nakedness from him.

What was the use? The damage had been done. The impact of his regard sizzled like lightning from her tingling breasts straight down between her legs.

He didn’t say another word, but took a step back and closed the curtain.

She let out a long breath. How could she ever face him again, after this?

She knew that look—the look that said as soon as she set foot outside the dressing room he’d ask her for sex again. Hot, sweaty, passionate, breathtaking sex. And she wouldn’t know what to answer.

She wanted him.

He was so good. So handsome and sexy. So honorable. So everything she’d ever wanted.

But so wrong for her.

Already she could feel the picket fence sprouting up and closing in around her. Despite his logical reasons, the fact was he had prevented her from leaving town that morning. And again after the disastrous Hidalgo interview.

Philip wasn’t going to let her leave until she’d slept with him. She could feel his determination in her bones.

The problem was, she was beginning to doubt she’d be able to leave him afterward if she did sleep with him. Not until she’d stayed just long enough to take his heart and crush it to pieces when she went.

Not deliberately—never that. But already she was feeling restless, like she had to leave. Now. So how could she ever think she’d be able to stay a lifetime?

She slipped off the dress and returned it to the hanger, put on her clothes, straightened her spine and walked out of the dressing room.

Philip was nowhere to be seen. The sales girl took the dress from her with a smile, and she went in search of him. She found him standing with feet spread on the sidewalk outside the front door, hands in pockets and gazing into space.

The bell tinkled sweetly when she went out, and he turned to look at her.

She nearly melted at the expression in his dark eyes. Black lashes rimmed a look of stark longing. The scent of patchouli drifted out from the boutique, and she knew she’d never smell that scent again without thinking of this moment and how her very soul ached for this man.

“Hi,” she said, and was suddenly scared to death.

Scared that she would give in to the overwhelming need.

But he surprised her by sliding his reflector glasses on, and saying, “I just talked with Renata,” like nothing had happened. “She put together a map for us, showing the ruins in the area where we’re looking for the box canyon. Feel like taking a walk up to the museum?”

She’d expected him to grab her and demand she sleep with him, or kiss her and make a comment on her brazenness, or at least crack a joke about walking in on people. Something. Anything but ignore it. She was thrown for a loop.

Had she totally misjudged his interest?

It was all good. She was grateful for the reprieve. If he had pressed her, she would probably have given in. A woman could hold out only so long against what she really wanted. And the more she was with him, the more she knew what she really wanted.

Him.

The fact that a future with him was impossible had kept her out of trouble up until now. Well, relatively so. But seeing the look on his face when he saw her in the dressing room, the undeniable longing had slammed into her like a runaway train.

He shifted, waiting for an answer to a question she’d forgotten.

“Listen, um…” She gathered her thoughts. On the other hand, if he could ignore what had happened, so could she. “You were right about this morning.”

He tilted his head, his glasses reflecting her own nervous image back at her. But he didn’t say anything. He did that silent routine a lot, she’d noticed. He must be a killer interrogator.

“About the Hidalgos and the Santanders,” she clarified.

“Yeah, huh,” he said noncommittally.

Hat low over his eyes, arms crossed over his chest, his Beretta holstered at his hip, he looked like a character out of a Clint Eastwood movie.

“I should go to the library,” she said, “the newspaper archives, and do some research. Find out more about both families. And the murders,” she added, proud of how calm she sounded. “I don’t know what good it’ll do…” Other than getting her away from him, of course. “But, um…” She shrugged. “You never know.”

She couldn’t see his eyes behind those stupid glasses—why had she ever made him buy them?—but his mouth softened. He had such a beautiful mouth. Strong, masculine, sculpted but not curvy like a woman’s. Well-defined lips that she loved to run her tongue over. Smooth and firm, capable of the most tender kisses, but able to deliver such powerful pleasure it made her quiver inside to remember.

She jerked her gaze back to his eyes—um, his glasses.

“Okay,” he simply said.

“Okay,” she said back. And since there was nothing else to do, after an awkward pause she turned away to walk down the sidewalk, hopefully in the direction of the library. But she wasn’t sure because for some reason the street signs were all blurry.

“Luce,” he said, and she halted but didn’t turn around. “I’ll come get you. How long do you need?”

She swallowed, a queasy sense of relief sputtering through her. She didn’t know why, but she hadn’t been certain he would come for her. Ever.

“Give me a few hours. Two or three.” She looked at him over her shoulder. Took in his proud, towering stance and square-jawed face, his black hair and serious mouth. Tucking it all into her memory.

In case he changed his mind and didn’t come for her.

“I’ll be there,” he said, and walked off in the opposite direction.

Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Because she couldn’t shake the horrible sinking feeling in her gut.

The one that told her he didn’t really mean it.

Chapter 9

In front of the microfiche machine, Luce peered at the fuzzy screen, then sought the print button and pushed it. A few feet away the hum of the printer sounded. She stretched her arms and her aching back.

By now she had read through quite a stack of newspaper articles concerning the all-American, up-and-coming middle-class Santander family, the murder of their oldest son, Peter, and subsequent disappearance and hunt for his wife, Maria, one of the heirs to multimillion dollar Hidalgo Industries, and their daughter, Constanza.

Luce’s head spun from information overload. She rose from her chair, retrieved the printed copy and stuck it in the manila folder she’d begged from the reference librarian an hour or so ago. Then she gathered up the rest of her things and slowly made her way toward the front door. She hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. It was nearly dusk.

And there was no sign of Philip.

She stepped outside and scanned the area. To one side of the entrance, in the lengthening shadows of a spreading oak, she spotted a low step in the sidewalk. She walked over and dropped down onto it. Her things slid from her arms onto the still-sun-warm cement as she covered her face with her hands.

He hadn’t come for her.

Suddenly, a large frame eased onto the step next to her and she felt a strong arm go gently around her. Her body gave a shuddering sigh of relief. And a spurt of joy. Instinctively she leaned against him and let her hands fall to her lap.

“Hi.”

Wordlessly he laid his cheek on her head. She sat there with eyes closed for a long time, drinking in the familiar scent of him, fighting the inner trembling that threatened for no rational reason.

“Tough day?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Yeah,” she whispered, toying with the reflector glasses hanging from his shirt neck. “You get the map from Renata?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. We should be able to find the box canyon tomorrow.”

She swallowed. “How do you know I’ll still be here tomorrow?”

She felt his warm breath in her hair and knew that he knew. That she’d stay. What she was feeling. Everything about her. Somehow he always knew.

“Because you want your P.I. business.”

She should be terrified of his ability to see right through her, but at this moment it was…comforting.

After a moment he quietly said, “Tell me what you found out at the library.”

She pushed out a weary breath. Gathering her wits, she sorted the information jumbled in her brain.

“The Hidalgos aren’t Hispanic. They’re nobility from Cantabria, in Spain, from way back.”

“Ah. That’s why the blonds. Light hair is fairly common in the northern part of Spain.”

“You’ve been there?”

“A summer in college. Go on.”

“The family has always maintained close ties to the old country. The children were regularly sent to Spain to find appropriate spouses. Until Maria Hidalgo, who married a local boy in a love match.”

“Peter Santander.”

“He was a midlevel employee at Hidalgo Industries. A bookkeeper or advertising executive or something. Rising, but his family was not of the upper class, and the family was horrified at the marriage. Their little girl was called Constanza.”

“Does that name sound familiar?” he asked.

She shook her head and his cheek lifted, cool air rushing to replace the warmth of his nearness. “No,” she whispered, not sure if that lack of recognition was reassuring or distressing.

He gave her forehead a lingering kiss. “Why did they think Maria killed Peter?”

“The theory was that she was having an affair, and he found out about it. He supposedly caught them in flagrante at the Hidalgo summer cabin, and she killed him to prevent a scandal.”

“Seems extreme.”

Luce smiled weakly. “Yeah.”

“Guess that theory’s changed a bit since they found her remains.”

“From what I’ve read, they don’t have a new theory. Tough to reconstruct motive after nearly thirty years.”

“Motives don’t change,” he said. “Money. Power.” He looked down at her. “Love.”

She swallowed again, pulled by the tenderness in his eyes. “Yes. But which one?”

“We may never know. But if anyone can find out, it’s Ted. He’s like a pit bull with a bone.”

She sighed. “Anyway. It has nothing to do with me. I looked at every newspaper picture I could find of every member of both families, and nobody rings a bell. I don’t recognize any names or faces, other than myself in Maria. I can’t be that little girl, Constanza. Even if they never find her remains, I’m not her.”

He stroked her back. “Still…”

At his tone she looked up. “What?”

“You could request a DNA comparison. They must have done one on the remains.”

Her jaw dropped. “Why would I do that? It’s just too farfetched to act on a superficial resemblance.”

“Maybe.”

“But you think I should anyway?” she asked, incredulous.

“Maybe. Just to put your mind at rest.”

Rest. Something she’d never be able to do. Not as long as she had to keep searching for that elusive…something, somewhere on the other side of the mountain.

She put her hand to Philip’s cheek and gazed up into his concerned face. And thought that perhaps she should give it a try. For a day or two. Just to test the waters.

She’d never met a man like him before. And wasn’t ever likely to again.

Perhaps she should give him a try. For a night or two…

Darkness had settled in as they talked. Around them the garden shrubs cast shadows from the lights of the surrounding businesses and the headlights of the hushed traffic driving by. Still in her short-sleeved top, she shivered.

She stretched up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then rose to her feet. “So, what does a woman have to do to get an invitation to dinner around this town?”

He leaned back on his elbows on the sidewalk, looking sexier than any man alive had a right to look. He flicked his chin at a largish bag she hadn’t noticed had been sitting behind her on the step, and beamed her an enigmatic smile.

“Just put that on,” he said.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You like Santa,” he said. “So I figured you like presents, too.”

“A present?” She sat back down next to him, astonished he remembered her thing for Santa. Even more astonished he’d gotten her a gift. “For me?”

Nobody got her presents. Except her mom and dad. And the white elephants at the annual jump shop holiday party, but they didn’t really count.

He pushed the fancy handled bag toward her with a finger. “Go on.”

She took a breath and peeked down into the bag, shifting aside the extravagant tissue paper. “Oh, my God.” She cut him a look of disbelief. “It’s the dress!”

He gave her a roguish grin. “I liked how you looked in it. I’d like to see you in it again.”

Her mouth opened, recalling the price tag. “But I couldn’t possibly—”

“There’s more,” he said, cutting off her objections.

Now she was really shivering. Curiosity more than prudence made her dig deeper in the bag. And found—“Matching shoes.” She lifted the elegant sling-backs from the depths. “They’re gorgeous, Philip. And just the right size. How did you—”

“When we bought your boots.”

She gazed at him wonderingly. “You remembered?”

“I remember everything about you, sweetheart.”

He held her eyes for a long moment, until she was forced to look down at the shoes and dress she held reverently in her lap. “I can’t accept these, Philip. It’s far too much, and—”

“There are no strings, Luce. I don’t expect anything in return, except you sitting across from me at dinner wearing them.”

“They’re too expensive—”

“I know the shop owner. She gave me a deal. Please, let me do this for you. I want to.”

She could tell he was lying about the deal. But she could also tell he wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.

“Will you wear my dress?”

She filled with warmth. And relented, cherishing his gift with all her heart. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Just dinner,” he said. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” And she did. He had no idea she was so close to surrender he didn’t need presents to topple her over the brink.

“Good. Because there’s more.”

At the look on his face her heartbeat kicked up. In the gathering darkness, the sharp lines of his features were thrown into sensual silhouette, his lounging figure shrouded in erotic inky shadows. With a start she realized he was no longer in uniform. He was wearing dark jeans and a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to midforearm, his Stetson tipped casually back on his head.

He pushed the bag back toward her.

She nibbled her lower lip and slid a hand into the far depths of the tissue. And found a cellophane-wrapped rectangular box. She pulled it out, recognizing immediately what it contained.

Condoms.

“In case you’d like dessert after dinner,” he murmured, soft and low.

Her pulse tripled. “Philip…” she whispered.

He reached into his breast pocket and fished out a flat, plastic object. A hotel room keycard. “It’s a long drive back to Piñon Lake. I thought we might stay the night in Santa Fe. If you like.”

Rendered speechless, she was unable to tear her gaze from his. In the distance a horn honked, and the insects in the nearby flowers tuned their orchestra a little higher.

He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. A soft, undemanding kiss. “Don’t answer now. Wait till after we’ve eaten. And remember, only if you really want to.”

Mesmerized by the gentle persuasion of his mouth, she slowly nodded.

He pressed a button on his watch and it glowed a dim green. “Library closes in fifteen minutes. Better get in there and change.”

Philip waited for her, stretched out on the steps, awaiting his fate in the darkness. The smell of sun-warmed earth and spring-fresh plants mixed with the enticing spicy aromas wafting from the neighboring restaurants. Here in town the stars were faint, but the moon shone above big and bright. A Chevy drove by trailing the twanging notes of a popular Tex-Mex tune in Spanish.

He liked it here. He’d never been to St. Louis, but he didn’t think it could possibly be better than Santa Fe.

Not that it mattered. He was only asking her to stay with him for one night. Not a lifetime.

Still. She had to see that Santa Fe was way better than St. Louis.

When she came out he was unprepared for the vision that came to a halt at his feet.

The dress was everything he remembered and more. She’d taken out her ponytail, and her pale hair cascaded over her shoulders, the ends turning in to accentuate the low cut of the dress over her full breasts. The cute strappy heels made her legs look miles long. She’d also found the lipstick the lady at the drug store had recommended when he was buying protection.

His mouth went dry as desert sand. “Oh, baby,” he whispered.

Vaulting to his feet, he resisted the overwhelming compulsion to sweep her into his arms and maul her right there, as the mountain lion hiding inside his body urged him to do. He confined himself to one intimate kiss.

“You look beautiful.”

He drove them to Maria’s, his favorite Mexican restaurant.

“The margaritas here are unbelievable,” he told her as they took their seats at a romantically lit table in a back corner. “The food, too.”

There was just enough light to see all the delectable details of her in that incredible dress. His mouth went from dry to watering. Damn. His body didn’t know what to do with itself.

He wished they’d gotten a booth so he could touch her.

She glanced around, then at him, looking like a nervous teenager trapped in a movie starlet’s body. “Stop looking at me like that,” she said with a little laugh.

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t want me in this dress, after all.”

He grinned. “Smart girl.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“You haven’t said no.”

Her tongue peeked out and slid across her lips. His body tightened. “True.”

The waitress came, and Luce hiked a brow when he didn’t even try to order for her.

“You order for me,” he told her.

Her eyes widened. “What?”

He relaxed back in his chair. “Go on. I trust you.”

It took her about three seconds to get over her shock and quickly peruse the menu again. She ended up getting two different combo plates—one with blue-corn tortillas—with chips and guacamole to start, along with bowls of posole as the first course.

“Good choices,” he said approvingly, after the waitress had left. “Most outsiders don’t get posole, or blue corn.”

“I’m the adventurous type,” she said with a teasing smile.

His body tightened even more. “Lucky me,” he said, lifting his margarita for a toast. “To more adventures.”

Their glasses clicked, sprinkling salt over the table. He sipped his Chinaco Classico as he watched her test the flavor of her drink on her tongue. She’d made him choose the margaritas. A hundred different types were too many for her to decide among, she’d protested. He’d ordered her a Paradiso. Sort of like a glass of Kristal, Mexican-style.

“Wow,” she said. He could practically see the liquor burn a path down her throat. “Tasty.”

He grinned. “Did I mention it was strong?”

He liked her spunk. He liked a lot of things about her. Right now he liked the way she looked in that dress, and what she was doing to his body. He hoped she’d be doing a lot more to it later.

“Tell me about yourself,” she said, dumping him out of his pleasurable thoughts after the food arrived.

“Like what?” he asked semiwarily, digging in.

“Whatever it is you’re not telling me,”

He stared at her, fork halfway to his mouth. “I think I’ve mentioned before I don’t believe in secrets.”

She dug in, too. “So don’t keep any. What made you move away from California?”

He let out a long breath. And took a long sip from his drink. Then he took a long time pouring some extra salsa from a bowl on the table onto his fajita.

“It’s complicated,” he finally said.

“It usually is.”

“There was a woman involved, but she’s not the main reason I left. In fact, we’re still friends. Her husband gave me my motorcycle.”

“You have a motorcycle?” Luce appeared shocked.

“In the garage. Too cold to ride until the past few weeks, and I’ve been busy. It’s a Harley.”

“Wow.” She sipped her Paradiso. “Who’d have thought?”

He contemplated her mildly. “Have I just been insulted?”

She smiled. “You seem kind of…conservative…to have a hog. Police chief and all.”

“You mean boring?”

“Not boring. Upstanding.”

His brow flicked. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No. But I like your hidden depths.”

“Thank you. I think.”

She grinned.

“And for your information,” he stated, “lots of cops ride Harleys. In an official capacity, even.”

“I stand corrected,” she said politely. “Now. You were saying? About California?”

Speaking of pit bulls with bones…

He sighed. “I was sheriff. There was a huge scandal involving drugs, illegal poaching and murder. The department was implicated. I was innocent. When the dust settled I left.”

There. Short, sweet and to the point.

“Wow,” she said again.

For someone so “upstanding,” he made her say that word a lot.

His mind turned a corner and he smiled, thinking of other ways to make her say wow.

“What?” she asked.

He tilted his head and smiled lasciviously. “Just thinking about what I’m going to do to you later.”

Her mouth popped open, then shut. “I haven’t said yes,” she repeated.

“You haven’t said no,” he echoed.

She gulped her drink. She was getting flustered. Ha.

“Might want to go easy on that stuff,” he advised straight-faced. “You could get drunk and I might take advantage of you.”

Her cheeks turned the color of the salsa. The red kind. God, she was cute.

“I didn’t think bounty hunters blushed.”

“I’m not blushing. It’s the reflection from the lights.” She pointed to the fairy lights with red plastic chile pepper covers that floated overhead.

“Okay,” he said agreeably. They both knew better.

They finished dinner. He even managed to keep up his end of the conversation without staring at her breasts. Too much. But by the end of the evening, all he wanted to do was slide his hands inside that silky, grape-colored dress and touch them. He was hard as the wooden chair he was sitting on and had miscalculated badly when choosing the size of his new jeans. Should have gotten them a lot bigger.

“So,” she said.

Instinctively his body lurched. Something in her voice alerted him that This Was It.

“So?” He could play it as cool as the next guy.

She leaned in. “So…about you wanting to have sex with me.”

“Oh, that,” he said, and was instantly alarmed because he hadn’t really planned on saying anything at all at this particular moment, not wanting to jinx it, as it were. “I’ve changed my mind about that,” he said.

“You have?”

He had?

They peered at each other for a moment while he got his tongue untied. He was as surprised as she by his utterance.

“Yeah,” he said, and realized the voice came from deep inside him somewhere. From the same place that liked to blast his Harley down a summer road straining bugs through his teeth. “I don’t want to have sex with you. I want to make love with you.”

Her eyes couldn’t get much wider than they already were, but at his declaration, they managed. She gazed at him for a seemingly endless time. Then she took a deep breath and let it out.

“Wow,” she whispered.

They made it as far as the Jeep. Maria’s was in a dumb location with no parking, and he’d had to park it down the street in a deserted alley behind some seedy-looking car-parts store. He’d cursed his bad parking-karma earlier, but at the moment was thanking his lucky stars.

He pulled Luce into his arms and kissed her. Hard.

She moaned and melted into him, pressing her round, luscious breasts into his chest.

“Wait,” he groaned, and yanked her skinny dress straps down her arms, stripping her naked to the waist. The way she’d been in that dressing room.

She gasped. “Philip!”

He palmed her breasts and kissed her again, turning her protests to low moans. He reveled in the feel of her warm skin, her puckered nipples, the goose bumps breaking out on the soft flesh under his fingers.

“I’ve wanted to do this ever since you attacked me at the salvage yard,” he rasped.

“Me, too,” she whispered, and wrapped her arms around his neck, undulating her body against him. “Oh, Philip.”

He bent and took a nipple into his mouth and sucked. Her cry echoed off the adobe walls. He switched to the other, unable to stop his ravenous assault. Pushing her up against the Jeep, he laved and suckled her, alternating sides, lapping up the sweet taste of her, drinking in the musky scent of her desire for him.

His hands traversed her body, bunching the satiny dress covering her lower half, pushing it up to get to her hot flesh. Still too much fabric. In a motion, he grasped her panties and slid them off, baring her completely to his touch.

With a growl, he grappled with the Jeep door, got it open and toppled her across the front seats.

She sucked in a breath when he landed on top of her. He reached for the box of condoms from the bag and thrust it at her as he moved down her body.

“Get me one,” he ordered, and spread her legs apart.

The box flipped out of her hand when he lifted her knees and lowered his head between her thighs.

“Oh!”

He retrieved the box and handed it back up to her. “Quickly,” he urged.

He waited until he heard rustling, then put his mouth to her.

“Ohhh!” Gasping, she bucked under him, and he heard the box crush, its contents spilling to the floor. In a minute that might be a problem, but right now he didn’t give a damn.

His senses reeled. She tasted so damn good.

“Philip,” she moaned breathlessly, “not here!”

But her thighs clamped his head and one hand tangled in his hair, holding him in place. He drew his tongue around her, drinking in her excitement, sensing her impending climax in the sudden uncontrolled trembling of her muscles.

He felt ready to explode, too.

Her hand found his and pressed a ripped packet into it. He tore open his jeans and shoved them down, sheathing himself as he sent her over the edge with his ravening tongue.

Her body began to shudder and her moans turned to panting cries. With a groan he slid up her body, and with a single thrust he was inside her. He covered her mouth with his and thrust into her again, catching her tumultuous shout in the back of his throat.

“Give me everything,” he coaxed, scything into her to the hilt, feeling himself lose control. Wanting her as lost as he was.

She wrapped her legs around him, quivering, kneading him with her convulsing muscles. Moaning his name. He plunged again, and again, loving the sound of his name mingled with her cries of ecstasy.

Her body jerked up, and she crested again. This time he went with her.

He blanked out, feeling nothing but a blinding pleasure that scorched through him from the roots of his hair to the ends of his toes, exploding between his legs like mountain thunder.

He roared his climax holding her tight, clinging to the woman who had turned his world upside down and made him want more. With his final plunge he buried his face in the cushion of the bucket seat and let loose a primitive yell of completion. Of possession and triumph.

Before he collapsed, he did a quick twist, so she was on top and his own back took the brunt of the uncomfortable seats and console gap.

They lay gasping for breath, legs tangled and dangling out the passenger door. Her dress was twisted around her waist, his jeans wrapped around his ankles like they were back in high school.

He grinned, joy splashing through him like a summer sprinkler. He chuckled between sucking down breaths. She lifted her head to gaze at him, a smile lighting up her sweat-moist face.

“What?”

He scraped a damp lock from her cheek and kissed her. “That was incredible.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, laid her cheek back on his chest and sighed. “I’ll say.” Another happy sigh. “Okay, I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“About you being conservative.”

He chuckled again and rubbed her back, up and down, slowly. “I guess I was wrong, too.”

“Yeah?”

“It seems I did want to have sex with you.” He looked down and met her content, replete gaze.

“I’m shocked, O’Donnaugh.”

“Here’s the thing, though.” He gently grasped her face between his hands.

“Hmm?”

“That was fine for starters. But now,” he bent his head and gave her a lingering kiss. “Now, I want to go to the hotel and make love.”

Chapter 10

The hotel room at La Posada was gorgeous but Luce hardly noticed. Philip opened the door, threw in his overnight bag and swept her up in his arms to carry her across the threshold like a bride.

“What are you doing?” she exclaimed, laughing and trying not to think too hard about the symbolism.

“Making sure you don’t get away,” he declared with heated kisses, letting her body slide down his as he kicked the door shut behind them.

“As if.” She kissed him back eagerly, flinging off her shoes as he backed her to the bed, where he made swift work of her dress and pushed her onto the mattress.

He landed on her a fraction of a second later, having tossed aside his shirt.

“I told you I’d have you naked under me,” he murmured, sliding his hands up her ribs to her breasts. He spread apart her legs with his knees and settled between them, still wearing his jeans.

“I like being naked under you,” she said, thrilling to the feel of his hard body against her bare skin.

She loved the way he took complete command and didn’t give her time to think, or be shy or demure. She felt claimed and taken, robbed of her willpower, and for the first time in her life, completely wanted.

From his back pocket he extracted a pile of condoms and his handcuffs, spilling them onto the nightstand.

“Before the night’s out, you may regret calling me conservative,” he whispered in her ear, low and gritty.

Excitement purled through every cell in her body. She curled her leg around his muscular thigh. “Do your worst, bad boy,” she purred. “Just remember, turnabout’s fair play.”

She reached for his waistband, wanting to feel his maleness pressed up against her. No barriers. He let her undo his jeans and pull them off while he disposed of his boots and socks. Then he lowered onto her, reaching for a packet from the nightstand.

“We’ll see,” he said huskily, and came into her.

He wrapped his arms around her and she wrapped her legs around him and held on to him tightly, and they lay there like that for a long time, barely moving, joined and entwined like two vines in a garden of roses, rocking to a slow rhythm. His mouth was firm and thorough as he kissed her, the thrust of his tongue matching the intensely restrained movement of his pelvis. But his body held her legs wide apart, and the root of his arousal pressed into her at just the right spot to drive her wild with each subtle thrust.

He was relentless in his gentleness, unmerciful in his power over her, unmatched in his skill at devastating pleasure.

She writhed beneath him and prayed he’d never stop.

Her climax took her by swift surprise, lifting her up and casting her over the top of bliss, gasping with the sheer intensity of sensual pleasure it bestowed. She floated down the other side to find him watching her face, a look of sublime masculine satisfaction in his eyes, though she knew he hadn’t gone with her.

“Conservative,” she said when she could speak again, “is beginning to grow on me.”

He smiled down at her. “Funny,” he mused, “I was just starting to feel kinky.” He reached for the handcuffs.

“Wait!” She grasped his forearm and for a moment was caught up in the feel of it, roped and corded, sprinkled with crinkly dark hair like his chest, cinnamon-tanned from being outdoors for years. Her pale fingers reached barely halfway around its muscular girth. In his hand, the handcuffs glittered menacingly. Or perhaps temptingly…

Again he watched her, taking in her reaction to his body, and his outrageous suggestion. Cataloging it all. He allowed her to slip the cuffs back onto the stand.

“My turn,” she said, and rolled them so he was on bottom. “You like this position, right?”

Straddling him, slowly she took him into her. He was long and thick, and even in her relaxed state he stretched her, shouting his presence inside her body. She felt filled and possessed, and utterly claimed.

“It has its attractions,” he murmured.

She lowered her head and kissed his lips. Tasted his anticipation, felt his passion.

She straightened her arms and gazed at him, wanting to capture this moment forever in her memory. So she could bring it out on those lonely late nights spent in strange hotel rooms aching for a pair of arms to hold her. His arms.

“I love your body,” she murmured, moving her hands over his broad shoulders and ripped biceps. He had just the right amount of black hair covering his firm chest, arrowing down to flourish where their bodies joined. “So masculine. So different from mine.”

His nipples were brown and flat, and she couldn’t resist leaning down to lick each one in turn.

“Mmm,” he hummed, and she felt him flex inside her. “I hope so.”

She lifted her body, nearly sliding off him. Nearly. He groaned, gripping her hips when she stayed there and teased him, sliding down a fraction, then back up, and doing it again.

“Vixen,” he whispered on a moan, but let her have her way with him. Let her play and torment him at will. All the while he toyed with her breasts, whispering how she would have to pay for torturing him so. She couldn’t wait.

He grew harder and thicker, until she thought no man could possibly last much longer. But she was the one panting.

He squeezed her breasts and she moaned, grinding down onto him. His hips lifted, meeting her in a hard thrust.

“Ride me, baby,” he urged, pumping up a little faster.

Catching his rhythm, she dropped down and peeled his hands from her breasts, lacing her fingers with his above his head. She melted into him, putting her mouth to his. And rode.

The world fell away and all she knew was Philip. His musky scent, the tang of his tongue, the raspy urgency of his whispered encouragements, the hot, slick pounding of his flesh into hers.

And suddenly she was under him again, and they were both shouting, and her body was coming apart and she was holding him and calling his name over and over and over. Philip, Philip, Philip.

And suddenly she knew she’d made a horrible, horrible mistake. This was too good. He made her feel too good. He made her feel too loved, too wanted.

But it was all impossible.

He held her and kissed her as they recovered their breath, and their self-possession. At least, he did. Because she despaired of ever belonging to herself again.

“You’re mine now,” he told her, eerily echoing her thoughts, his stark voice filled with the primitive possession of a conquering male for his chosen woman.

And deep down she knew it was true. No matter where she wandered, she’d always belong to this man alone.

“I’ll be right back.”

Philip kissed Luce’s nose and slid from the bed, heading for the bathroom to dispose of one last condom. They’d gone through a few—more than he had in a long, long time. But with Luce, his body had felt like it was nineteen again and in its prime.

He slipped it off and was about to drop it into the bowl when he noticed something strange. He looked closer. His heart stopped.

A rip.

About a quarter of an inch long, down toward the end.

His stomach clenched.

How could this have happened?

Well, actually, he knew exactly how it could have happened. That last time had been…all right, extreme might not be too off the mark. Wild, certainly. He was exhausted, if happily so. It had taken him about fifteen minutes to even be able to move afterward.

He muttered a curse word he almost never used.

“Everything all right?” she called sleepily from the bed.

Ho boy.

“Fine,” he called back. Panicking. Should he tell her?

Of course he should tell her. But what would happen if he did?

He flushed the incriminating evidence and turned on the cold water in the sink to give his face a good dousing.

He had to tell her.

But what would the news do to their thus-far-perfect night together?

Blow it all to hell, that’s what.

Thanks, it’s been fun. By the way, I might have gotten you pregnant. Have a nice life.

Of course, it would be her saying that last line. Not him. He could deal with it. Hell, he suddenly realized he’d love to deal with it. He was already halfway in love with her—at least. He could make it work.

She was the one who’d run. As fast as she could. And he’d never see her again. Or their baby. If she had it.

His heart wrenched at that train of thought. No. He wasn’t going there. He didn’t even know if there was a baby. It was just a little rip.

“Philip?”

“Yeah, baby,” he said, and blanched. “Be there in a sec,” he choked out, and scrubbed his face dry with a fluffy white towel.

No. Better not tell her. Not yet. Just see what happened. And make damn sure he got her parents’ address and phone number in St. Louis. Just in case.

The next morning Philip kept them in bed as long as he could. Luce needed the rest. And he needed the skin time.

Okay, so she didn’t get all that much rest.

He’d been tempted to forget the condoms entirely. Make it official. Get her pregnant on purpose, so it wouldn’t be an accident with all the attendant baggage that implied.

But he was a coward, and didn’t want to face her probable bad reaction just yet. He was enjoying being with her too much. Her naked body and her contented smiles. Her glowing face and her heartfelt endearments.

He made love to her the way he’d meant to last night. Slow and thorough, filled with tender words and lingering touches. The way a man might make love to the mother of his children.

And when it was over she gazed at him and whispered, “Wow.” And then she said, “What’s changed?”

It wasn’t easy, but Philip managed to set aside the whole condom issue in order to concentrate on what he and Luce needed to do today. There was no sense obsessing about it anyway, since there was no way to tell one way or another for several days. Maybe more than a week. In the meantime, if they could find Clyde and clear up the cases hanging over them, that should help make the issue less complicated when it did come up for discussion.

“What is with you today?” Luce said, jerking him out of his disordered thoughts.

He avoided looking at her. “Nothing. Just trying to find the right dirt road.”

After calling Joseph Clay Pipe as they did each morning to make sure Clyde hadn’t turned up on the rez, they’d studied Renata’s map and decided on a strategy for finding all the canyons with ruins in the area of the Rio Chama around Abiquiu. There weren’t many, but they were all remote and tough to get to from the highway.

He could feel her studying him from the passenger seat. Thank goodness he had his reflector glasses on, so she couldn’t see his eyes.

“Look, Philip. About last night. And this morning.”

He shot her an alarmed glance. “It was great.”

“Yes. It was. Really great. Really, really great. But I want you to know, I’m not planning the wedding. If that’s why you’re distancing yourself.”

“No, I’m—”

“I mean, I know you’re not interested in anything long-term. I’m not, either. That was the understanding from the beginning. So you don’t have to worry.”

“I’m not worried,” he assured her.

“Okay. Just wanted you to know that. Because you’re acting kind of…freaked out.”

“I’m not freaked out.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just thinking about how much I want to turn this Jeep around and go back to Santa Fe and do it all again.”

A smile broke through. “Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Okay.” She hung on as he swerved off onto a bumpy unpaved track. “Because you seemed kind of freaked out there. For a while.”

“Luce—”

“Okay, okay.”

He swallowed. “Besides. You’re the one who keeps saying no long-term. I never said I didn’t want a relationship.”

“I distinctly remember, you said you like to keep things uncomplicated.”

“You said that. I just agreed. Relationships don’t have to be complicated.”

“Ours would.”

“Because you like your life mobile, too.”

“Among other things.”

“You also said you don’t do one-night stands,” he reminded her.

“We did it in the morning, too,” she countered, lips twitching up.

He chuckled and brought the Jeep to a halt. “True. And I am counting on more than one night.” He reached over and slipped his hand behind her neck, bringing her mouth to his. He gave her a long kiss, then whispered, “I’m counting on a whole lot of nights with you.”

She let him kiss her again, then pulled away. “Philip…”

“Sweetheart,” he said, guilt suddenly swamping over him about the secret he was keeping from her. He—who didn’t believe in secrets. Hadn’t he learned they always ended up biting you in the butt? “There’s something I have to—”

But before he could get it out, her hand clamped over his mouth. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered. “Please don’t. It’ll just make things harder. If you lived in St. Louis I might take a chance… Maybe. But you don’t.”

“People move,” he mumbled under her hand. She sighed and lifted it.

“Not you. You’re chief of police. You have a beautiful home in the woods. And what would Betsy do without you to fuss over at the Slipper?” She shook her head. “I can’t see you writing speeding tickets in the big city, Philip. You’d hate it.”

“Criminals jump bail in New Mexico, too, Luce.”

She snorted humorlessly. “And where do you suppose they run to when they do? Look around!” She gestured at the savage wilderness surrounding the Jeep. Rocky desert and jagged cliffs, tough plants and even tougher wildlife were all that could be seen. “My habitat is the city, with buildings and streets and people. I’m useless out here.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He gripped the steering wheel to prevent himself from grabbing her and shaking some sense into her. Or kissing her until she changed her mind.

“I’m sorry. But I also know myself. Even if we could sort out all that other stuff, it still wouldn’t work. There’s just something in me that needs to be on the move. I’d end up hurting you. And I don’t want to do that.”

“Luce—”

“Please, Philip. Let’s not talk about this right now. Let’s just concentrate on finding Clyde. Okay?”

So she could leave him. She didn’t say it, but he knew that’s what she was thinking. Why was he always cursed with women who ran away? Always fated to be the guy just before they found Mr. Right and settled down?

Well, she wouldn’t find it so easy to run if she was carrying his child. That would change everything. For him, certainly. He just hoped it would for her, too.

But now wasn’t the moment to spring that on her. He needed more time to convince her a life with him was a far better choice than a life on the road chasing after something she couldn’t even name. Although he had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what it was she was seeking.

He just had to show her that the place to find it was not in a past she couldn’t change, but in a future she herself chose.

“Damn, stupid desert,” Luce muttered under her breath as she hiked down a rocky arroyo and up again, only to find an even bigger one over the next rise. They were never going to find a way up to these ruins.

It was a mark of her dog-tiredness that Philip had actually talked her into striking off on her own in this godforsaken wasteland. Four hours ago she would never have agreed. But over that time she’d gotten used to the terrain, and it no longer scared her. Much. It was even fairly predictable.

And yes, okay, it wasn’t really a wasteland, either. The ground was covered with plant life, purple shrubs and sand-colored grasses, stubby green trees, flat and stickery cacti, and even patches of delicate wildflowers with pink or yellow blooms. In between, lizards and kangaroo rats scurried, birds swooped, and they even spotted a couple of whitetail deer munching new shoots on top of a low mesa. She saw her first real roadrunner, and Philip spotted a nest he thought had probably been used by a family of quail. The kind with the little topknots.

And then there was the wonderful smell. So clean and spicy fresh and comforting to the soul. She had to admit, she loved the smell of this land.

So, when Philip had peered up at the crumbling adobe walls ensconced on a ledge twenty feet above them and said, “Why don’t we split up to search for the path up to them? It’ll save time and we can get to all five ruin locations before dark,” she’d agreed.

Must have been sunstroke.

That was at least half an hour ago and still no sign of the ancient path that would lead them up the vertical cliff.

She decided to take a break and stretch her legs out on a large sandstone outcrop with a great view over the ridgebacks and arroyos she’d just climbed to get up here from the Jeep. She couldn’t see Philip, who had gone in the other direction, but every once in a while she could hear the far-off sound of rocks and gravel sliding under his feet as he climbed.

At least, she hoped it was Philip’s feet. Or better yet, Clyde’s. Anything else large enough to make those noises she definitely didn’t want to run into.

She took a long draught from her water bottle and replaced the cap. Yuck. It was as warm as the sandstone, and tasted like plastic. Closing her eyes for a few minutes, she raised her face to the spring sunshine and enjoyed the light breeze tickling through her hair.

Clyde, where the hell are you, buddy?

They’d decided to continue to look for the box canyon today instead of switching to the missing airplane, because they agreed with Ted—a plane was hard to hide. And with any luck the e-mails and faxes he and Philip had sent out would yield its whereabouts without driving to every airstrip within five hundred miles.

During the phone call yesterday, her boss, Arthur, had sounded so…anxious. He’d tried to hide it. But she knew damn well the shop would be hit hard if she didn’t find Clyde Tafota. Real hard. And the deadline was down to three days now. If he didn’t turn up today, there wouldn’t be enough time to go through the New Mexico authorities the way Philip wanted. She’d have to take Clyde directly to St. Louis. Philip would not be happy. In fact, he’d be real angry. Angry enough to stop her? She didn’t want to take the chance.

They had to find Tafota this afternoon.

But everything was feeling like a dead end today. This was the fourth Indian ruin they’d been to with no sign of recent disturbance, and with their luck she didn’t have much hope for the fifth, either. If the thought didn’t depress her so much, she’d lay bets Tafota had skipped the state for good. Maybe even the country. Though she still couldn’t figure out why. Like Anna Hidalgo had said, his actions made little sense, considering his clean background.

At the thought of the pretty Miss Hidalgo, Luce sighed and took another long drink of water, wishing it were something stronger. Anna was Maria Hidalgo’s niece. In a different life, she and Luce could be cousins. And Luce would belong to two big families—close ones, according to the newspaper articles. Though she could do without nasty Uncle Donald.

She realized her slip, thinking of them as family and the unpleasant stranger as her uncle, and grimaced. The stress and the weird coincidences were getting to her more than she thought: not finding a trace of Tafota, her resemblance to a dead woman, the lost child, the dates and the ages of the people involved in the murder.

Hell, even the name of the city starting with Santa played into the coincidence.

Suddenly she wondered…could that be what she was talking about when she was four and newly adopted? Not Santa Claus, but Santa Fe? Why she’d been so obsessed with—

Damn, damn, damn. Talk about obsessed!

She had to snap out of this craziness. Time to go.

Opening her eyes, she grabbed her water bottle.

And froze in terror.

Lying next to her foot was a huge rattlesnake. Small black eyes gazed languidly up at her as it slowly coiled into itself like wagons circling, right in front of her. Its rattles came to a rest—thankfully silent—on one side of the fat coil, its head lazily on the other. Its forked tongue shot out of its mouth, testing the air.

Lord help me, I’m a dead woman, she thought, not daring to utter the words aloud. She held her breath, adrenaline screaming through her veins.

She and the rattler stared at each other for a good minute, then its second eyelids slid down to glaze its eyes yellow. She could almost see it relax, occasionally darting its tongue out and in.

Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God. What the hell did she do now?

“Don’t worry,” a calm, low male voice said from in front of her raised perch. “I’m right here.”

She looked up, never so happy to see anyone in her whole life. “Philip!” His name came out as a desperate whisper. She wanted to run into his protective arms. But he was gesturing for her to stay where she was. Besides, she honestly didn’t think she could move if her life depended on it. Which it might. Oh, God!

He drew his Beretta but didn’t train it on the snake, which was positioned between them. “Use a soft voice. And do as I say.”

“Just shoot the damn thing, would you?” She had to battle not to scream the words at him. He’d said the other night rattlesnake bites were not fatal. Usually. But she really didn’t care to put it to the test.

He shook his head. “I’d miss and hit you. Besides, the old bugger is too comfortable to bother with you.”

“What, are you kidding?” If the snake didn’t get her first, she was definitely going to kill Philip.

“Slowly move back from it. No sudden movements or noises.”

He gave her a reassuring smile. She clamped her teeth hard.

He was so dead. But first she had to get to him.

Pulse pounding a tattoo, ever so slowly she lifted one foot and pulled it back toward her. The snake propped open a lid and she froze, but it just gave her a cursory glance and resumed its slumber.

“You’re doing fine,” he said. “Keep going.”

With a hammering heart, she moved her other foot, then her butt, until she’d scooted a few feet back.

“Try and stand up.”

Cautiously, inch by inch, she rose. The snake didn’t even blink. More confident, one step at a time, she backed up and stepped off the outcrop onto the ground, losing sight of Philip as she did so.

“Okay?” he called.

Finally she let out the breath from her aching lungs. She’d done it! “Okay.”

After a few more careful steps she turned to make her escape. “Oh, my God!”

Two more snakes coiled in her path.

“Luce, what is it?”

“Philip, don’t come back here!” she called as quietly as she could. “There are more.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she sent up a silent prayer, then opened them and looked around her.

She stopped counting at eight. Her knees trembled violently as she covered her face with unsteady hands. She hated snakes. She just hated them.

“Luce, listen to me. You can do this.” Philip’s voice was strong and firm. “You can get past them.”

She shook her head. “No,” she whispered shakily. “I can’t.”

His voice came closer. “We’re in Indian Country, you know. The Indians have a deal with the rattlesnakes. They won’t hurt you.”

She shook her head again, squeezed her fingers tighter over her eyes. “I’m surrounded.”

“This is how it is.” His voice grew closer still. “Back in the day,” he said, “in the time of the old ones, there was this guy named Djisdaah. And this Djisdaah was real mean to the snakes. He tortured and burned them. So the snakes decided to attack the people. They surrounded them, just like you are. Hundreds of them. Thousands.”

“Great,” she squeaked. “I really need to hear this, Philip.” But the sound of his voice was soothing, and she realized she wasn’t shaking quite so badly.

“But the tribe’s chief was very wise and he surrendered to the snakes, apologizing for Djisdaah’s behavior. So the snakes agreed to leave in peace. But before they went, they made the people promise two things. Do you want to know what they were?”

Taking a deep breath, she curled her fingers into her palms and opened her eyes. Philip was standing seven or eight feet away, right in the middle of the scatter of snakes. Lowering his sunglasses, he met her eyes and held them.

“Tell me,” she whispered.

“The first promise,” he said, “was that the people must always treat snakes with respect.”

Her gaze dropped to the creatures around them. A few of the rattlers were drowsily eyeing Philip as he talked, but the rest ignored him. And her.

“What was the second promise?” she asked.

He stretched his hand toward her. “Come over here and I’ll tell you.”

His gaze was steady and calm, sending her the courage she needed. If he could do it, so could she.

She gathered herself. And took a tiny step. None of the rattlers moved. She took another. Still they were placid. With heart thundering, slowly but surely she inched past them until she could grab his hand. His fingers held hers in an iron grip. And she knew she’d be safe.

“Just respect them,” he said.

She nodded mutely. Trusting him. And like St. Patrick, he led her away from the snakes.

When they reached the top of the rise he stopped, and she flung her arms around him, sagging with relief. “Thank you. You saved my life. You and your story.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, hugging her tight. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to remind those snakes of that deal they made.”

“We’re not Indians, though.”

“Doesn’t matter. People are people.”

He smiled, and the last of her terror evaporated.

“What was the last promise?” she asked, shuddering out the stress.

“Never to name another child Djisdaah.”

“I can do that.”

He gave her an odd look, then turned his head to look back at the rattlers dotting the low rise behind them. “You should be proud of yourself. You were very brave.”

“You were the brave one, walking into a snake pit to rescue me.”

“No. I’m not afraid of snakes. But you, you faced your worst fears and didn’t let them stop you. Look at them,” he urged. “Go on.”

She swallowed, and made herself look at the snakes. She still didn’t like them, but he was right, and it felt good.

“You gave your fears respect, like the wise chief promised, and because you did, they let you pass unharmed.”

She looked back up at him, at his kind, perceptive eyes and his generous smile. She saw nothing but sincerity in their depths.

“You’re a very wise chief yourself, O’Donnaugh,” she said softly. And wondered if he wasn’t talking about more than just snakes.

Chapter 11

“This could be it,” Philip said, glancing down at the copy of the faded 1934 newspaper photo of where Clyde’s grandmother had hidden from authorities.

Luce squinted at it. “Let’s hope so. We’re running out of time.”

While she refilled their water bottles from the orange cooler on the back bench, Philip double-checked the clip on his Beretta. He was glad he’d had it at their last stop, even if shooting a striking snake with a pistol was the stuff of fiction. But who knew what lay ahead of them this time.

“Should I take the Walther?” she asked. “Just in case?”

So far he hadn’t let her carry her weapon on their hikes, and he didn’t mean to start now. “You won’t need it,” he said, sliding on his Stetson. “Clyde will come peacefully when he hears the facts.”

“I’m not so sure.”

True, most men fleeing from bounty hunters probably weren’t interested in coming peacefully, no matter how politely she asked. But he didn’t want any misunderstandings on his turf.

“He’s not dangerous.”

“Whatever. I’m not planning on straying more than six inches from your side, anyway.”

He liked the sound of that. She turned to grab his handcuffs off the rearview mirror. Showing him her shapely backside…and giving him ideas. Hell, Clyde could wait.

When she turned back, he slanted her a glance.

“Don’t even think it, lawman.”

Damn. He smiled innocently. “Think what, bounty hunter?”

“Whatever you were thinking.”

“You mean handcuffing you to the roof lights and stripping you nak—”

“Yeah, that,” she said, her face flushing crimson. “Jeez, Philip.”

He loved it when she blushed. He grinned. “What, you’ve never had an assume-the-position-and-handcuff-’em fantasy?”

She lifted her cute little chin. “Yeah. But I’m the one doing the cuffing,” she declared, and started marching up toward the cliffs.

But he’d seen the bluff in her eyes.

He just chuckled, filing away the knowledge for later.

They searched for more than an hour, with no luck. Frustration seeped through his veins.

“How can this be so difficult?” Luce exclaimed in exasperation after they left another dead-end canyon with no sign of the ruins. “We found all the rest, even the last one, snakes and all!”

This location was a bit different from the others. There were more trees. Piñons and junipers peppered the talus slopes at the bottom of the red cliffs, which were also much more vertical than the others they’d searched.

Philip pulled out the U.S.G.S. topographical map he’d been using as a guide all day. He was good at reading maps, but this place was stumping him. He compared it to Renata’s targeted, but considerably less sophisticated, map. Unfortunately, the scale was too small to be useful for close-up work.

“Can you really read all those weird lines and squiggles? Maps without streets are Greek to me.”

“I must be getting tired,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “It looks to me like the ruins should be right behind…there.” He waved his hand at the crenulated sandstone edifice that rose up before them, reaching to the sky.

“On both maps?”

“Lord knows. At this point I’m seeing cross-eyed. The topo map shows a canyon back there. Do you see a canyon?”

They stared at the irregularly sculpted yellow-and-red striped face of the cliffs for a silent moment, then Luce said impatiently, “Well, if the map says it’s there, it has to be there somewhere. They pay those guys to be accurate.”

She started hiking up the talus slope, but halted after a few yards. “Coming?”

Apparently she was serious about the six inches, despite conquering her fears so well earlier. He folded up the map and followed her.

“Maybe if you tried saying ‘open sesame,’” he suggested as they stopped to examine the tall vertical formations.

She chuckled. Then spread her arms wide and called, “Open sesame!”

Nothing happened.

“Well, it was worth a shot,” he said philosophically.

“Damn,” she said, picked up a stone and threw it hard at the wall in front of them. It made a very satisfying crack as it hit the solid rock, echoing loudly as it splintered.

Philip tipped his head and tsked. “I can think of better ways to get out our frustrations.”

“I doubt it.” She swiped up another stone and flung it. Again it echoed loudly as it ricocheted off the wall. “I’m feeling better already.”

“Whose head are you pretending to throw?” he asked with a wince.

“Don’t worry, not yours,” she said, and hurled one more.

“I’m glad to—”

Suddenly they glanced at each other, then at the cliff. That last rock hadn’t had an echo. In fact, there had been no sound at all after leaving her hand.

“Where did you throw it?” he asked, excitement mounting.

“I didn’t aim. It went somewhere over there, I think.” She turned toward a group of piñons huddled against the rock face.

They both took off up the slope toward the trees. When they arrived at the top and hurried to look behind the bushy piñons, Luce let out a happy gasp. Between two natural pillars was a narrow gap.

“Philip, look! A passage!” She grabbed him and swung around, nearly losing her balance on the uneven ground. She landed in his arms, laughing. “The hidden canyon!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“At last.”

He swung her around again and bent to give her a big kiss. Just to celebrate. But he couldn’t resist drawing it out longer and longer. It had been ages since he’d tasted her and felt her mouth under his. At least six hours. Far too long.

He forgot all about the passage.

Apparently she didn’t. She pulled away. “We should get moving,” she said.

Reluctantly he turned his attention back to the opening. “Man, it looks really narrow.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

They walked up to it, and he put his hands on either side of the narrow, sandstone gateway to peer in. Almost cavelike, it was as though the rock had split in half, leaving a tall, triangular keyhole maybe two feet wide at the bottom and about twenty feet high at the point where the sides came together again like two drunks leaning on each other for support.

He hunched down and raised his sunglasses to see what lay beyond. But the opening turned a corner after a few feet, and it was impossible. He tried to squeeze into the opening, but was instantly wedged.

“Even if I crawl, I’ll never make it through this narrow space.” He changed angles and tried again, to no avail. “I’m too big.”

She frowned. “What are you saying?”

He blew out a breath. She wasn’t going to like this. Not one little bit. “Unless we find another way in, we’ll have to skip these ruins.”

“But Tafota could be in there! We can’t leave without checking it out.”

“I don’t see a choice,” he said, stepping back and searching the rock wall for a second gap. “Besides, if I can’t make it through, chances are Clyde can’t, either.”

She appeared skeptical. “I’m not so sure. He looked awfully skinny in his mug shot. More like my size.”

Philip lifted his Stetson and swiped a hand through his hair. “Whatever. Let’s look for another entrance.”

After half an hour of hard searching, it was clear. This was the only way in.

Philip let out a sigh. “That’s it, then.” Reluctantly he turned to walk down the slope. “Let’s pack it in and call it a day.”

“No.”

He halted and turned back. “Excuse me?”

She shook her head. “He’s in there. I know he’s in there.”

Frustration oozed through Philip. “Maybe. But we’re out here with no way in and no other options.”

“That’s not strictly true,” she said.

“No? What do you propose we do? Starve him out?” She straightened her spine, and suddenly he knew exactly what she had in mind. His stomach plummeted. “No,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “No way.”

“There’s nothing you can do to stop me,” she said, determination gleaming in her eyes. Or was it plain old mule stubbornness? “I’m going in.”

Philip scowled down at her. “You are not going in there alone!”

Luce locked her knees and planted her fists on her hips—mainly to hide the sudden tremble in her limbs, but he didn’t have to know that.

“I have to. Look.” She indicated the ground, which showed subtle signs of recent disturbance—footprints and scraping marks left by someone crawling.

Philip swiped a hand over his forehead. “What happened to not leaving my side more than six inches?”

Her stomach tightened at the thought of what she was about to do. “I’ve faced down intelligent, three-hundred pound men carrying automatic weapons,” she stated evenly, not sure who she wanted to convince more, him or herself. “You think I’m going to let some brainless reptile or other fanged creature stop me from getting my skip? Not a chance.”

As he studied her face she saw a muscle tick in his cheek. “I don’t like it,” he ground out.

Neither did she. “We don’t have a choice.”

He clenched and unclenched his jaw and she knew she’d won. “All right.” He unholstered his pistol and held it out to her. “But at least take the Beretta.”

She nodded and tucked it into her waistband. “Thanks.”

“You’ve got your cell phone, right?” he asked tightly. When she nodded he pulled out his. “Here. Trade me, so you don’t have to memorize the number. Call if you see anything.” He glanced upward after exchanging hers for his. “If we can get a signal.”

She checked out his cell. “Is this a camera phone? How do you work it?”

He showed her the buttons to push. Then he hit his fist against the sandstone wall. “Damn! I hate letting you go in there alone.”

“No worries.” She gave him a confident smile, even though her insides were still doing minicartwheels. They were getting smaller, though. She just had to concentrate on the job, not the environment. She was good at her job. She’d be fine. And Clyde was in there, she could feel it. “I’ll just pretend I’m going into an abandoned crack house. Piece of cake.”

He groaned. “Luce, please be careful. Swear to me.”

“I promise. Watch for Tafota. Catch him if I flush him out.”

“I will.”

Before she lost her nerve she ducked into the passageway. It was a real squeeze at first, but after just a few feet it turned a corner and opened up. After several yards the walls fell away and she walked into a perfect box canyon. Butch and Sundance would have loved it.

This had to be the place Clyde was hiding out.

Now that she was here, she realized she had no strategy. TV bounty hunters were fearless and undaunted by danger, but in reality it was a pretty orderly profession with minimal risk if you were properly prepared for the takedown. Which at the moment she wasn’t.

Should she call Philip? One look around told her no phone signal would ever penetrate those rock-solid canyon walls even if there was a nearby tower. She checked the indicator light, just in case he had satellite and there was one directly overhead. “Yeah, right,” she muttered at the blank screen.

She was on her own.

Her glance upward had, however, yielded paydirt of another sort. The ruins shown on Renata’s map were tucked under a wide, cavelike ledge protruding from the lower western face of the canyon.

She stood still for several minutes, inspecting the canyon floor and walls for any sign of activity, occupancy or Clyde himself. To her relief, there were no snakes or other creatures in evidence, but to her surprise, the canyon floor was riddled with indications of human activity. Boot tracks were everywhere, as well as one long abrasion that looked like something heavy had been dragged along the ground.

The hairs on the back of Luce’s neck rose.

This didn’t look like something Clyde Tafota could have done on his own.

She pulled Philip’s Beretta from her waistband and scanned the ruins. Was he up there watching her? Or was there more than one person observing? Thinking fast, she dashed over to the canyon wall, seeking what shelter she could from prying eyes.

The canyon floor was mostly sand and fallen rock, with a few stands of spindly cottonwoods, cactus and sage dotting it. A set of steps carved in the sandstone zig-zagged up ten or twelve feet to the ruins. They looked steep but passable—but also completely open to scrutiny by anyone hiding above.

Okay. It was all good.

She’d been in worse situations.

And she needed to catch Clyde. Time was running out and Arthur was counting on her.

She gripped the Beretta and made for the steps, keeping her back to the canyon wall as she moved. High above the cliffs a hawk cried out, and the wind rustled the dry sage making it rattle softly. Otherwise silence prevailed except for the in and out of her own fast breathing.

Stealthily she climbed the steep, rock-hewn steps one at a time, being careful not to dislodge stones or gravel and give herself away. When she got to the ruins, another surprise awaited her. From below, the ancient structure had seemed as broken down as the others they’d visited today, but when she crested the top step, something different greeted her. Behind the crumbling outer shell, the inner adobe walls still stood fairly intact, from the hard-packed clay floor up to the sandstone outcropping that served as ceiling—and which had obviously protected the inner rooms from the harsh desert elements.

In other words, a perfect hiding place for two kids—or a grown man.

From exploring the four other cliff dwellings today, she knew their basic layout consisted of a rabbit warren of small rooms, interconnected by windowlike doors set a foot or two above ground level. The inhabitants must have been tiny, and agile, to be able to climb in and out through the small openings.

The previous ruins had all been eroded down to at least waist level, if not lower, so it had just been a matter of stepping over the walls. These were almost perfectly preserved.

Pulling out Philip’s cell phone, she snapped a quick picture, then pocketed it again. As quietly as she could, she approached the doorway to the closest room.

She’d never been claustrophobic, but the thought of entering the thousand-year-old dwellings, crawling with Lord knew what, gave her the creeps big-time.

“You better be here, Clyde,” she mumbled, shook herself mentally and stuck her head through the opening. The sun had gone down below the cliffs, but there was still enough light to see clearly. Inside, stacked neatly against the far wall, were several wooden crates marked with distinct military lettering.

Military? Holy mackerel! Weapons?

Or… Had the missing shipment of missile guidance chips from Hidalgo been packed in wooden crates? No.

“Clyde, Clyde, Clyde,” she whispered. “What have you gotten yourself into, buddy?”

She reeled out and propped her back against the cool adobe wall.

She had to think. This changed everything.

Suddenly Tafota wasn’t looking so innocent anymore. And there was no way on God’s green earth she was going to get him back to St. Louis in time to save Arthur if the Feds or the New Mexico authorities got hold of him first. And that included Philip.

She swore under her breath.

Suddenly, she heard a noise, the distinctive sound of gravel being dislodged by hurrying feet. She whipped around, zeroing in on the location.

There! Heading toward the back of the canyon and…and up!

Running to the far corner of the outcrop, she scanned the cliff above it. Another narrow set of stairs was cut into the rock, going up the almost sheer face of the canyon wall, leading to the top of the surrounding mesa plateau.

She swore again, and gave chase.

After slip-sliding several yards up the stairway she halted. The small rocks under her boots were like ball bearings on the smooth, hard sandstone worn concave by centuries of feet.

Besides, what would she do with Clyde if she caught him? If she caught up to him on the narrow stairs there was no room to switch positions, and she’d have to bring him down, possibly at gunpoint, with her going first. On this steep trail that could prove real tricky. Or fatal.

Not to mention, she’d risk her life possibly to have Philip refuse her custody of him when he found out about the military stash.

Better to let Tafota go now. Come back later without Philip, and hide until she could nab Clyde on level ground.

In fact, it would be better not to tell Philip about Tafota being here at all. She wouldn’t be lying. She hadn’t seen him. She didn’t even know if it was Tafota she’d heard. It could have been an animal. A very large animal.

Damn.

This was getting too complicated.

Making her way back along the ruin walls, she carefully examined all the rooms along the way. Every one contained a stack of stolen military boxes. A major haul. There was no way she could keep this to herself. Theft on this scale meant something a lot more sinister than one guy stealing a lone shipment of computer parts. This was organized. And ongoing. And possibly terrorist related.

There was no other thinkable option. She had to report it.

After taking as many pictures as Philip’s phone would hold, she retraced her steps back to him with a sinking heart.

She knew this marked the end of their time together.

And the end of their relationship, such as it was.

As soon as they informed the Feds about this cache, the place would be swarming with them and the military. Clyde would either be picked up or long gone. Arthur would lose his money. She would lose her paycheck, be out the expenses she’d already incurred and have to delay getting her P.I. business yet again.

Unless she was somehow able to talk Philip into waiting a day to report the cache, so she could come back and get Clyde first and spirit him away to St. Louis before anyone else was the wiser.

But that meant deceiving Philip and going against his wishes.

And for that, she knew, he would never forgive her.

As soon as Luce came back through the opening in the cliff, Philip knew there was something wrong.

“What happened?” he demanded, grasping her arms when she dusted off her pants and didn’t say anything. Her eyes appeared sad…or furtive…or something.

“I didn’t see Clyde. But you won’t believe what I found.”

“Tell me.”

“Better see for yourself.” She handed him his cell phone and flipped up the screen. “Check out the pictures.”

He did. It didn’t take many to figure out what she’d stumbled upon. The close-up of a wooden crate marked “Property of USAF” said it all.

He stared at the picture. “This is serious.”

“Yeah.”

“We have to report this.”

“Yeah.”

“Right away.”

“I suppose.”

He thought he detected a reluctance. He looked up. “What?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I just… You know what’ll happen. Feds everywhere. Clyde will be history.”

“If he was hiding here. Which it’s not certain. If he’s not involved with this, here would be the last place a sane person would hide out.”

“True.” But she didn’t look convinced. In fact, she looked like she knew differently.

“Are you sure you didn’t see Clyde? Or any sign of him?”

“I didn’t see him. Or any traces of anyone camping out here.” But her gaze avoided his.

He’d hate it if she was lying to him.

Why would she lie?

The sun was getting ready to set over the distant mountains, and already darkness was closing in on the canyon, casting long maroon shadows over everything.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. I want to be back on pavement before it gets completely dark.”

On the way home to Piñon Lake, he thought about the possibility of her lying to him about Clyde being at the box canyon, trying to figure out why she’d do it. He could come up with no rational reason, unless… He didn’t even want to think about the possibility that she might be planning to ditch him and go back to the canyon later without him. To get Clyde before the Feds did.

He thought about it for a second, then gave himself a mental shake. No. She wouldn’t do that. She was scared to death of the desert. He must be imagining things. She was probably just disappointed she’d failed in her job.

“We could still find him,” he mused aloud.

“No,” she said, bending to unlace and ease her feet out of her boots. “We won’t.”

He didn’t even try to argue. She was probably right.

She rubbed her calves. “I’m beat. How about you?”

“Not too bad.” He was used to hiking. Skiing in the winter. Not all day, usually, but enough to keep him in shape. That and the weight set in the spare bedroom.

“Think I’ll have an early night.”

“Sounds good. Where would you like to eat?”

“Maybe we could just stop at a fast-food place somewhere on the way.” She wriggled her toes. “I don’t really feel like putting my boots back on.”

“Sure. When we get home we can have a soak, and I’ll give you a foot massage.”

She darted him a glance. “Oh. Um. That sounds nice, but…I was thinking you should just drop me at the motel.”

He digested that information for a moment. What the hell was going on? Something he wouldn’t like, he wagered. First her evasiveness, now this. But he’d be damned if he’d let her spend the night at the Lakeview Motel. Without him.

“Like hell,” he murmured.

She looked at him for the first time. “Philip—”

“I thought you had a good time last night.”

“I did. It’s just—”

“Not good enough to repeat the experience?”

“You were amazing, O’Donnaugh. The best. But we both know what it was. And that it had to end sooner or later.”

“I was thinking later. Much later.”

She nibbled on her lower lip and turned to stare out the passenger window so he couldn’t see her face. “I’m sorry.”

“So you’re saying last night was just about sex.”

She remained silent, face averted.

He kept his temper in check. Barely. She knew damn well it wasn’t just about sex.

Then he thought about how she’d wanted to leave for two days in a row and he hadn’t let her. And remembered what she’d said this morning about not planning the wedding, and not wanting to hurt him, and all that other crap.

Who did that remind him of?

Hell. He wasn’t listening again.

Then he thought about the ripped condom and its possible consequences.

And decided he didn’t give a damn about listening. Luce was running scared, and they both knew it. The question was, how would he change her mind?

She wanted just sex? He could do just sex. To keep her in his life. Hell, if she wanted no sex, he could do that, too. If he had to. To keep her in his life.

That would be harder. But he could do it.

But at his place. Not the Lakeview Motel.

He dropped the subject and talked about the cache instead. “I’ll call Ted about the military stuff. He’ll know who to report it to. There are so many military bases around here, I’m not sure.”

“Okay.”

Again he heard the reluctance in her tone.

“Are you planning to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on. I’m just disappointed not to catch Clyde. And I need to get back to St. Louis.”

So they were back to that again. “What about the plane angle?”

“Call me if it turns up.”

“And the Hidalgos and Santanders?”

“What about them?”

“Luce—”

“Maybe I’ll pack up and leave tonight.”

“I thought you were beat,” he reminded her, proud of how reasonable he sounded despite his spiking anger. Anger at the thought of her driving off into the night. Fury at the thought of her running away from him and everything else she should be facing.

“Suddenly I’m wide awake.”

Yeah. She looked wide awake. So wide awake when she rested her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes it took her about three seconds flat to fall asleep.

He let her. Gave him a chance to think. And calm down enough to formulate a plan.

A different plan.

Option one hadn’t worked. At least the effect on her hadn’t. Option two was a nonstarter by the looks of it. Option three? God. What was option three?

Good question.

By the time he rolled up his driveway and parked, he’d decided on an option three. It was a pretty good plan. It could work.

Correction, it would work.

It would.

Because it had to.

Chapter 12

“Where are we?” Luce asked when the Jeep came to an abrupt halt and she opened her eyes. She looked around. It was like déjà vu all over again. “Your place,” she answered herself.

She took a second to tamp down on…first a rush of panic, then her anger that Philip had totally ignored her wishes.

So much for feeling guilty. Small consolation for betrayal, but she’d take it.

“Philip,” she began, summoning her sternest voice. Which came out more like a husky whisper after being asleep for the whole trip up the mountain.

She needn’t have bothered.

“Here’s the deal,” he said. “I’m not letting you drive. You’re too tired. As for us, we can have hot—but casual—sex,” he neutrally informed her, shocking the residual cobwebs from her brain, “or you can sleep in the guest room. Your choice. Doesn’t matter to me, either way.”

It didn’t?

Okay.

She closed her eyes again and tried to wrap her mind around his sudden 180. But there must have been a whole bunch of cobwebs still hanging around in her head.

What was happening here?

The only thing that seemed clear was that she was stuck with no way to town and he was already carrying their things from the Jeep to the house. She unbuckled and trailed along after him.

There was definitely something different about him. Even in her muddled state she recognized that. He seemed…cool.

Speaking of cool, the temperature outside had plummeted. It couldn’t be much over freezing. Goose bumps rose on her arms.

“Chilly tonight,” she remarked.

He led her into the living room, where he set her briefcase and their other things on an end table, then turned on the gas in the fireplace.

“It’ll get warmer soon.”

She sure hoped so. And she didn’t mean the house, either.

“Hungry?”

In answer, her stomach grumbled. “Starving.”

“Didn’t want to wake you to stop for food, so we’ll have to make do with something frozen.”

Sort of a theme going on here. She attempted a lame chuckle. “I’d offer to cook, but I wouldn’t want to burn down your house.”

That got a smile. Well, sort of. Half of one. Of the humorless variety.

He headed for the kitchen. “Earlier I’d thought to make you a nice dinner tonight. Three courses, candlelight, the whole bit. But I’m afraid that Philip has left the building.”

A funny feeling swirled in the pit of her stomach. Not funny ha-ha, but funny…hurt. She followed him into the other room. “That Philip…?”

He dug through the freezer. “Yeah. You know, the Philip who makes love to a woman. He’s the one who cooks.” He found what he was looking for, pulled it out and turned to meet her sinking-hearted gaze. “You specifically requested the it’s-just-sex Philip.” He set the frozen package on the counter and smiled. Sort of. “That Philip doesn’t.”

She swallowed, reeling from the pain that suddenly zinged through her heart. But did her best to smile back. “What about the can-we-be-friends Philip?”

He gave a dour laugh. “It’s all the same.”

As he turned to the sink and fussed with the frozen whatever, she watched his back. Straight and proud, there wasn’t a trace of a stoop or a bow in his shoulders. But she knew.

She’d hurt him. He’d offered her nothing but warmth and love, even a relationship. And she had thrown it all back in his face.

Why?

All because of some…unknown thing…she’d dedicated her life to chasing.

He’d said he thought she was running.

Was he right? Was she really not chasing anything at all, but running away from something quite different?

Again, why?

Abruptly she turned. “May I take a shower?” she asked.

“Use mine. End of the hall. Towels are in the cupboard. Leave your clothes in a pile and I’ll run a wash.”

She wandered down the hall, oddly reluctant to breach the private sanctity of his bedroom. Last night at La Posada they’d shared a bed and a couple of showers, and that had been fun and sexy, intense at times. But they’d been at a hotel. Even alone, being in Philip’s bedroom was very…personal.

Setting aside her reservations, she walked in. The room was wonderful. Very much Philip. Most of one wall was taken up by a window she assumed overlooked the trees and desert below, but it was too dark to see anything now, especially with the light on. His bed was huge and covered in a luxurious-looking plaid wool blanket, with bunches of pillows propped up against the headboard. Made of darkish wood, it had square, masculine spindles that reminded her of the furniture in some of the old turn-of-the-century homes in St. Louis. It was beautiful. There was a matching dresser and a rocking chair and reading table. They sat a few feet from a small wood-burning stove, now cold, that wafted the piquant scent of burned cedar.

Rubbing the shiver from her arms, she went into the bathroom and closed the door resolutely, trying like mad not to picture herself in that room, lounging on the bed with a novel while he read the Sunday paper and a cozy fire crackled in the stove.

Where was the lavender spray when you needed it?

Never mind. Purposefully, she turned on the shower and shed her clothes, assembling them in a pile as he’d instructed. She stepped under the nozzle. At every turn in New Mexico she’d seen notices about water conservation, so she picked up the bottle of shower gel intending to wash quickly. And halted midpour.

The gel smelled just like Philip. Spicy and male, faintly of sage. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed deeply, feeling the recognition deep within her body.

This was so unfair. How could she forget the man if everything reminded her of him?

No. She had to do better than this. Holding her breath, she washed, and was finishing up when she heard Philip open the door.

“Just getting the clothes,” he said.

“Okay.” She wasn’t too worried; the shower door was frosted glass, aside from which she had more to fear from herself than him. He’d be honorable to the end.

Whether she liked it or not.

“Find everything you need?”

Don’t even think it, Luce.

“I could use a razor. Mine’s at the motel.”

There was a pause. “I’ll see what I can do.” The door closed again.

She let out her breath. And ran a hand slowly over the lower slopes of her breasts. The redness had disappeared, but this morning they’d—

No. She dropped her hand and grabbed the shampoo. She was thinking about her legs, not his stubbled jaw.

Sure she was.

She’d just poured a puddle of shampoo into her hand when the bathroom door opened again. Her pulse skyrocketed when the shower door opened, too.

“I found a razor,” he said, and held one up. At least she figured he was holding a shaver, but she really didn’t know because she couldn’t tear her eyes from his body.

Which was naked.

“Philip—”

“It’s mine, but I put a new blade in for you. Will that work?”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

He stepped into the shower with her, taking up almost all of the room in the small cubicle. His shoulders practically hit either side, and she had to step back to keep her breasts from touching his chest.

He caught her hand just as the shampoo started to trickle from her palm.

“No sense wasting this,” he said calmly, and gathered the sticky liquid into his own palm. “I’ll use it on your legs.”

With that, he squatted down and picked up her foot, placing it on his knee. And began lathering up her calf with the shampoo. Her jaw dropped even further.

“What—” she began.

“Don’t worry. You’ve made your wishes pretty clear. I’m not here to seduce you.”

He wasn’t?

“Then what—”

“Saving water.” He looked up, droplets streaming down his face as the spray hit him. “It’s the law here.”

“Shower-pooling?”

“Whatever works.” He lifted the razor and began to scrape it leisurely down her leg. She had to grab his shoulders to keep from jumping out of her skin.

“Um…”

He drew it down again, and her whole body shuddered hotly. His legs were splayed apart, unabashedly showing off what was between them. He was aroused.

“Is there a problem? We’ve seen each other naked before, if you recall.”

Flagrantly aroused.

“Um—”

“Why don’t you wash my hair for me, while I shave you?”

Somehow she recovered her voice. “Philip, why are you doing this?”

“I told you.”

“Water conservation.”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t believe that for a minute. The problem was, she had no idea what he was up to.

“Not seduction?” she asked again.

“No. If you want to sleep together, great. But it’s your turn to ask for it. I won’t.”

He made two more passes at her calf before she was able to jumpstart her pulse. Of course she wanted to. She just didn’t dare.

Did she?

No. She’d hurt him enough already. She was lying to him, and was about to betray him big-time. She had no business sleeping with the man. Not even casually. If that was even possible. Casual wasn’t in his vocabulary. And there was no way Philip O’Donnaugh could ever be of casual interest to her.

“The idea here is to save water, Luce.” He glanced up at her expectantly. Nodded to the shampoo.

Right. Wash his hair. A good distraction from what he was doing to her leg. Going higher and higher with his hands. Rinsing away her willpower along with the suds.

He paused, closing his eyes when she squirted shampoo onto his head and began to rub. “That feels nice.”

“Yeah,” she croaked.

But she wasn’t sleeping with him.

She wasn’t.

No matter what he did to her leg.

Or anything else.

Oh, Lord.

She rubbed his head like crazy, and he continued shaving her leg. When he finished, he switched her other foot onto his opposite knee and started in all over again.

It was agonizing.

It was heavenly.

It was frustrating as hell, because all he did was shave her legs.

When he was done, he stood up and rinsed his hair, then perused her body. “I assume you washed before I got here?”

She nodded, unable to speak again. He was still aroused. Even more aroused.

He picked up the shower gel and handed it to her. “Then I’ll wash your hair while you do me.”

He tipped her head back with his fingers and guided it under the streaming water. Then he gathered her hair and lathered it up.

“Well?” he asked when she just stood there. Terrified to touch him. Terrified to move. Terrified to open her mouth because she was terrified what might come out of it.

It was just a body, she told herself. He was just a man. All these feelings were just hormones.

Her eyes blurred from the water, which was lucky because then she couldn’t really see him as she stroked the soapy gel over his chest and everywhere else.

“Did I get shampoo in your eyes?” he asked, voice filling with concern.

“A little, I think,” she said, and closed them as he aimed the spray to rinse away the shampoo and the sting.

Too bad it wasn’t working.

“Turn around,” she said, and by the time she’d done his whole back, her eyes were almost normal.

“Finished,” she said when she really couldn’t find any more of him to wash or rinse.

“Okay,” he said, and turned back to her. “Thanks.”

They stood and gazed at each other for a few moments, not moving.

“I guess we should get out,” she said.

“You go ahead,” he said. He rubbed his upper thigh, catching his thumb over the root of his arousal. “I’m just going to take care of myself before I get out.”

Scandal sifted through her body. Surely he couldn’t mean… Her shock must have shown on her face.

“I need sleep, Luce. Look at me. I’ll never get any in this condition.”

“But I thought…”

“What? That I don’t want you? That I’m not aching to do everything we did last night, and more? Sweetheart, my brain might have gotten the message, but my body hasn’t.”

“Oh.”

“I can control a lot of things, but this isn’t one of them. There’s no shame in that.”

“No.”

“Guest room’s down the hall on the kitchen side.”

She licked her lips, trying to read his mood. “Okay.” But all she could see behind his shuttered expression was tiredness.

He sighed, lifted his fingers and ran them gently along her jaw. Then he gave his head a tiny jerk toward the door. “Go on.”

She was a coward, so she fled. Ran from the shower, grabbed a towel on the way out and smacked the bathroom door shut after her. And found herself standing in front of his bed.

The covers had been turned down, and the room was toasty warm, heat emanating from the woodstove, which he must have stoked up. She squeezed her eyes shut.

What was she going to do?

His hurt was so palpable it was almost physical, as blatant as the want for her his body had displayed so unabashedly.

How could she leave him like this?

How could she leave herself like this?

There were a million reasons not to go to him. All good ones. Nothing would be solved by prolonging their physical involvement. Things could only get worse, especially when he found out what she was planning to do later tonight.

But she couldn’t stand to see the hurt dimming his beautiful eyes. And know she’d put it there.

She’d do anything not to have to see that hurt.

Anything at all.

Philip listened to the resolute smack of the bathroom door behind Luce and let out a sigh, followed by a long string of inward curses.

So much for option three, pretending he didn’t care. That had worked like a charm…not. If anything, his indifferent act had chased her off even faster. And if he’d thought seeing his naked need for her would move her, he was obviously wrong.

He leaned his arm against the warm, wet tile and put his forehead to his fist, letting the hot water spray over his back.

Not that he wanted her sympathy. Anything but that. What he wanted was her passion. He wanted Luce to be as helpless to fight this thing between them as he was. He’d wanted her to see the error of her ways and give herself over to him, heart and soul.

He’d wanted her to love him.

Yeah.

May as well wish for Clyde Tafota to knock on the door and give himself up.

With another curse, he reached down. Might as well get this over with.

Suddenly the door opened. Luce stood there, looking confused, and a little desperate around the edges.

And all rosy and dry and still naked.

“Don’t come in here, bounty hunter,” he growled, possibly more harshly than he intended. “Not unless you’re coming to have your wicked way with me.”

Her eyes widened and she halted on the threshold of the shower stall. His eyes feasted on her temptingly bare body.

“Because my nice is all gone,” he said, “and my willpower is totally shot to hell. Enter at your own risk.”

She shocked him by taking one hesitant step into the cubicle. She darted a glance between his legs and up again—yeah, it’s still there—then closed the door, shutting herself in with him. He felt his body ripen, almost to the point of pain, he wanted her so much.

“I think I can handle it,” she said, and he almost laughed. Did she really? He doubted it. Some old saying about lambs to slaughter came to mind.

He pushed off the tiles and turned, crowding her away from the door and into a corner. “What exactly is it you think you can handle?”

Her cheeks colored. “You. Whatever you dish out.”

His lip curled up. “Is that so?”

Her gaze didn’t waver from his, but he felt a small square packet press into his palm. “Yeah.”

He pressed it back into hers. Then he crossed his arms over his chest. And waited.

Her tongue peeked out and swiped over her lips. The same tongue and lips that had explored his body so thoroughly last night. He wanted to shout and stomp his feet and yell at her to get on with it—whatever it was she was here for. But instead he stood absolutely, perfectly still. And waited.

First she turned off the water. The sudden silence was deafening. He was certain she could hear his nether regions creaking and groaning as they expanded to just short of bursting.

With a slanted look, she started to lower herself to her knees. Lightning fast, he caught her by the upper arms and lifted her back to her feet, shaking his head.

“Ah, no. I don’t want to be serviced. If this is going to happen, I want it to be mutual.” He held her until she nodded, then dragged her to his chest and whispered in her ear. “I want to be inside you when you call my name, inside you when you surrender to me and we come apart together. Inside you when you realize we were meant to be together.”

She made a little noise, and he looked into her eyes, seeing all the misery and anguish he himself was feeling. When she put her arms around his middle and buried her face in his neck he couldn’t stand it. He wanted to keep his delusions, didn’t need to know she was feeling the same pain he was. She was the one doing all this, putting up roadblocks, insisting on casual. Not him. Why should she hurt?

He slid one hand down her arm and extracted the packet from her tight fist, ripped it open with his teeth and sheathed himself one-handed.

“You scared?” he asked, dropping her arm to snake his around her waist. She should be. He sure was.

“No.”

“You want this?” He skimmed the back of his hand over her breasts.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He spun her in his arms, pinning her hands on the shower wall arrest-style. He edged her feet apart, bent his knees and thrust up into her from behind.

They both gasped. The pleasure was so excruciating it was like having the breath knocked out of him. He grabbed for control. She started to move her hips, her inner muscles undulating around him, pulling him in deeper. He wrapped his arms around her pelvis and forced her to be still. Just for a minute. While he caught his breath.

She mewled. “Don’t stop. Please, Philip.”

“I said mutual,” he gritted out, and sought her pleasure center with his fingers. “But you first.”

Her knuckles turned white against the forest-green tile as he found his mark. Her bottom ground into him, making him groan with need. She was hot and slick and already starting to tremble.

So good. They were so good together, even like this, with tempers flaring, unwilling passion igniting in an instant. How could she want to leave him?

She moaned, and cried out, responding to his touch. Toppling over the brink.

“Say my name,” he ordered between clenched teeth. “I want to hear you say it, over and over.”

She did. And it was like music. He stroked her and listened to the primitive love song she sang for him. Drinking it all in and absorbing it like the potent drug passed around at a Paiute ceremony he’d once been invited to. It made him feel powerful and invincible. It made him feel breathtaking, exquisite pleasure.

But he knew he’d better enjoy it now, because tomorrow he’d pay the price.

When the music slowly faded and he felt her body go limp in his arms, he started to move. In and out, in and out. The primal rhythm caught him, filling him with its power as he thrust into her again and again. Until finally he made her sing once more. But this time he sang with her.

Afterward he swung them around and leaned his back against the wall, holding her in his arms while they both recovered, his legs like jelly, her breath ragged and punctuated by little hitches. He felt a drop of water trickle down his shoulder and glanced up at the showerhead. It wasn’t dripping.

He looked back down at the woman in his embrace.

“Luce?” he whispered, and tilted her head up with a hand to her chin. Her cheeks and eyelashes were wet. “Luce. Oh, God. Did I hurt you?”

Chapter 13

Luce did her best to stifle her embarrassment over being caught weeping. What the heck was going on? Luce Montgomery didn’t cry. Luce Montgomery never cried. She hadn’t cried since Davey Ganick kicked her in the shins on the schoolyard when she was nine. Of course, he’d ended up crying a lot more than she had, so she’d felt redeemed.

This time, though, she had no desire for payback.

“No,” she said, looking down at the floor and dashing the traitorous moisture from her cheeks. “Of course you didn’t hurt me.”

Philip tipped her chin up again. “What is it, then?”

She considered evading the question, but under the microscope of his penetrating gaze she couldn’t figure out how.

Besides, he deserved the truth, and she was woman enough to admit her failings.

“I’m just confused,” she murmured, averting her eyes when she couldn’t budge the rest of her face from his grip. “I like you so much, but all I seem to do is hurt you. And when I try to distance myself so I can’t hurt you any more, you get even more hurt. And then you get all snarly so I know I really have hurt you, so then I give in and make love to you because I don’t want you to be hurt, but that just make things worse, because now you’re going to get really, really hurt when I have to leave for real. Which I do. Very soon.”

She stopped for a breath and risked meeting his gaze. His expression hadn’t changed, except his eyebrows had risen.

After a pause, he said, “Snarly?”

“Well,” she hedged, fiddling with his chest hair. “Kinda. Not that—Oh!”

He lifted her into his arms and kicked open the shower door. “I am not snarly.” Striding out to the bed, he laid her down under the covers and climbed in beside her.

“I only meant—”

“I like you, too, Luce,” he interrupted, and gathered her in his arms. “But I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree on the snarly thing. Now, I’m whacked, so I’m going to sleep. Good night.”

It took about five seconds for his breathing to slow and deepen, letting her know that he had, indeed, gone to sleep.

Leaving her staring at the ceiling, wondering what had just happened.

Had anything been resolved between them? Not really. Had anything gotten better? Definitely not. So how had she ended up in his bed, with him slumbering peacefully beside her as though nothing more were wrong than them having a lovers’ tiff, and everything would be fine in the morning?

But everything wouldn’t be fine in the morning. He was being snarly. And she had to leave as soon as she got the chance, fetch her car from the motel and go stake out the box canyon, nab Clyde Tafota, then drive nonstop so she’d have Clyde back to St. Louis in time to save Arthur and her own paycheck, and with it start her new business and get her old life back.

And in the process betray everything she and Philip had together.

Damn. She wanted to cry again.

How did she get herself into these things? Just one short week ago everything had been so easy!

With a depressed sigh, she snugged up against his warm body, surrounding herself with his comforting scent. At least she could enjoy these last stolen hours with him.

Before she broke his heart.

And her own.

Luce had planned on getting up a few hours later and sneaking out to take the Jeep well before Philip woke. She hadn’t counted on falling into a deep sleep, then having the phone ring at 6:00 a.m., blasting them both out of their dreams.

Disoriented, she jolted up in bed and grabbed for her gun, which was always on the nightstand. At home, anyway. What she got was a handful of morning stubble and an amused look from a sleep-rumpled man. Who looked amazingly sexy even this early. With a groan, she flopped back under the covers. She must look like a wreck, besides a fool.

“Yeah?” he said into the phone. “Oh, hello, Dodge. Can’t this wait?” He squinted at the alarm clock. “Okay, Dodge. I’ll be right over.”

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Dodge Bloomfield. Couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, he was talking so fast. Which is unusual for Dodge. Something about a theft.”

The man’s name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Whoever it was, she was sorry for his trouble but glad about the timing. This would give her a chance for escape. “Guess you better get down there,” she said.

“Yeah. Two robberies in a month. Jeez.”

“A veritable crime wave,” she remarked ruefully. “Next thing you know, they’ll be asking for your badge back.”

“Ha-ha. Listen, I called Ted last night with the info on the military stuff we found at the ruins. If he or anyone else calls about it, have them get me on my cell. I’ll leave the number on the kitchen table.”

She threw off the covers. “I’m coming with you. You can drop me at the motel.”

He pushed her firmly back onto the mattress and replaced the covers. “No you don’t. Get some more sleep. I shouldn’t be very long. But I’ll leave the keys to the Jeep just in case.”

She couldn’t believe her luck about the Jeep. “But how will you get to town?”

“The Harley. Remember?”

“Ah, yes. How could I forget?”

He kissed her forehead. Her cheeks warmed at the husky way he then said, “You be a good girl and I might give you a ride later.”

“I’d like that,” she answered, but suddenly realized there would be no later. She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, God. This was it.

“I’ll expect a hot breakfast waiting for me,” he murmured.

She forced a brave smile. “I’ll have the corn flakes and matches ready, then.”

He chuckled. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

She caught him by the hand and pulled him back when he started to rise, and put her arms around him. She didn’t want to let him go.

“What?” he asked softly.

“N-nothing,” she stammered. “Just wanted a hug. Before you leave.”

He held her for an all-too-short moment, then kissed her forehead again. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he whispered, and her heart broke in two.

Because she wouldn’t be there when he did.

Five minutes later Philip was gone.

She had to be strong.

She was strong. She could get through this.

She had to.

Determinedly, she switched herself into tough-bounty-hunter mode. That had always helped before, when she’d been tempted to get closer to a man she was attracted to. Before, she’d always been able to empty her mind of everything except the jumper she’d been hired to find.

But she hadn’t met Philip before. This time it took her several minutes of sitting in the running Jeep just to remember where the heck she was going.

First the motel to get her suitcase and car. Then to find Clyde.

Right.

She took one last look back at Philip’s beautiful home, slammed the Jeep in gear and drove off.

Down at the Lakeview Motel, she was surprised to see a Taos County Sheriff cruiser sitting in the parking lot outside the office. Ted? Her mouth curled into a smile. Maybe he’d finally scored with the lissome and culinarily talented Betsy.

Then she saw the Harley parked next to it. She shot a glance down to her room. The door stood wide open.

“What the—”

Screeching into the spot next to her own Volvo, she jumped out and ran into her room. Three men looked up: Ted, the manager and Philip. The manager—Dodge Bloomfield, she remembered suddenly.

“Hey, what’s everyone—” She halted midsentence.

The room was torn apart. The contents of her suitcase were strewn everywhere, all the dresser drawers had been pulled out, and the closet gaped open. The bedclothes had been shredded.

“Holy—”

“Luce!” Philip strode over and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her away from the bed. But not before she’d seen—

“Oh, my God!”

A knife was sticking out of the middle of the mattress.

Philip herded her out of the room, followed by the others.

“Who did this?” she demanded, peering over his shoulder, trying to get a better look. “And why?”

“We don’t know,” Philip said, sliding an arm around her. “But don’t worry, we’re going to get to the bottom of it.”

“It could be a case of mistaken identity,” Ted suggested. “Your room number is 953, but the nine had flipped down to a six.”

Philip nodded, but she wasn’t buying it. She’d seen the crazy numbering system at the Lakeview and she doubted there even was a room 653.

“Who’s going to pay for the damage?” the manager demanded. Shaking his head, he stalked back toward the office. “You find whoever did this. I’ll sue him!”

Her mind was in a whirl. “It’s not mistaken identity. The knife…that was personal.” This wasn’t the first time her life had been threatened doing her job. She just hadn’t expected it from Clyde Tafota. What on earth had gotten into him?

“We don’t know it was personal. But I’m here,” Philip said, pulling her closer. “I’ll protect you.”

She was about to say she could take care of herself, but stopped the reflex just in time. She looked up into the face of her hero, filled with worry and concern. A million thoughts and emotions flashed through her. All overshadowed by one. Love for this wonderful man.

“Still trying to take care of me, Chief O’Donnaugh?” she asked, smiling wistfully.

His eyes grew tender. “If you’ll let me.”

How she wished she could.

But she was leaving. This changed nothing. Steeling herself, she pulled away, gesturing at the mess to give herself a reason. “Sheesh. Good thing I had most of my stuff with me at your place.”

“Except your clothes, it seems,” Ted remarked, hiding a smile.

She made a face. “Very funny.” She walked back to the doorway. “So why is our Clyde getting so testy?”

“You think it’s Clyde Tafota?” Ted asked consideringly.

“Skips who don’t want to be caught can get nasty. Sometimes they leave pointed messages.”

“This has happened to you before?” Philip asked, clearly horrified.

“Sure. All part of the territory. No biggie.”

Ted nodded. “Well, you two have been stirring things up for Clyde, interviewing his family, going to Hidalgo, trying to find his hideout. Makes sense he’d be ticked.” He looked at the room. “But this ticked?”

“Maybe it’s not Clyde at all, but something to do with finding that cache,” Philip suggested with a frown.

Luce’s pulse skittered. She hadn’t thought of that. Should she tell them about hearing a person at the canyon? A person she suspected was Clyde? But maybe it wasn’t….

“I suppose that would make sense,” she admitted. “Whoever’s stealing that stuff has a lot to lose.”

“I don’t like it,” Philip said with a scowl. “Not one bit.”

“Tell me about it.”

His expression went stubborn. “That’s it. You’re checking out of the motel right now. You’ll stay with me. No arguments.”

She swiped a hand over her forehead. Damn. She should have seen that one coming.

“Good plan.” Ted headed for his cruiser. “I’m going to go call in the forensics guys. You can take your clothes, but leave anything that might hold prints. Don’t touch anything else.”

“Fine,” she said, preoccupied.

She felt Philip’s narrowed eyes on her. “Luce? What are you not telling me?”

She exhaled. Damn, damn, damn.

“Excuse me, are you Chief Philip O’Donnaugh?”

She and Philip both looked up at the loud, unfamiliar male voice.

“I’m O’Donnaugh. What can I do for you?”

The man was dressed as a civilian, but had a clearly military stance and haircut. He snapped open a wallet, showing Air Force Office of Special Investigations credentials. “Captain Charlie Segura. OSI. I’m conducting an investigation into the theft of weapons and technology from several local military installations. I understand you reported locating a cache of possible stolen military property?”

“That’s right,” Philip said, extending his hand, obviously as surprised as she at the personal appearance of an investigator. “That was quick.”

“We’re very anxious to stop these guys.”

They must be. It wasn’t even 8:00 a.m. yet. Disappointment crashed through Luce. So much for going back to nab Clyde at the canyon. Damn! Still, maybe she could slip away….

“If you’re done with me, Philip, I’ll just grab my—”

His hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. “No.” At Segura’s hiked eyebrows, Philip clasped his hand around hers proprietarily and said, “There was a break-in. I need her statement. And you do, too. She’s the one who saw the cache. I didn’t.”

Segura pursed his lips and flipped open a small notebook. “I’ll have to ask you to stay, Miss—”

“Luce Montgomery.” She gave him the rest of her particulars, which he wrote down in the notebook.

“What led you two to locate the cache?”

Philip explained everything while she eased her hand from his and fidgeted, trying to figure out how to extricate herself from the officious military officer’s investigation.

“I’d like you to take me to the cache,” he said. “Do you have time now?”

“Now?”

“You have a problem with that?”

Stuck for another unknown quantity of time. She was simply not going to get a break in this case. Ever.

“No, of course not,” she said with a frustrated sigh.

Nor, did it seem, was she ever going to be able to make her much-needed break from Philip.

As it turned out, they had to wait a few hours while Captain Segura arranged for a helicopter to transport them to the plateau above the ruins, so a team could attempt to climb down from there since the men wouldn’t fit through the passage.

Philip figured the thieves must have lowered their booty down that way, most likely using ropes and pulleys. It was impossible for them to have gotten those boxes to their hiding place any other way. Segura agreed. But he needed to go through channels for the ’copter.

Philip arranged to meet at the airstrip outside of town a bit after noon.

Meanwhile he had one very antsy Luce to deal with. Something was up. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. She kept looking around as if she wanted to get away from there. From him.

“You’re not still entertaining thoughts of leaving?” he asked point-blank.

She blanched.

Ah. So that was it. She’d been planning to take off this morning, but the robbery had foiled her. That’s why she’d shown up at the motel scarcely fifteen minutes after he had.

His heart squeezed. But he was fresh out of options. If she wanted to go so badly, he couldn’t stop her.

Not unless he told her about the condom. That could buy him time.

But did he want that kind of time? First and foremost he wanted her to stay because of her feelings for him. Feelings he knew she had for him.

But she was afraid to face them. Afraid even to acknowledge them. Definitely afraid to act on them.

There was only one way that would happen. She had to get over whatever it was in her past that haunted her, robbing her of her ability to be happy where she was. He suspected it was her abandonment as a baby. Which would also explain why she was so reluctant to deal rationally with the Maria Hidalgo situation.

“Come on,” he said, and took her by the hand. “I want to show you something.”

He led her to the Harley, unhooked the extra helmet he’d bungied to the back seat and handed it to her. “Put this on.” He slammed on his own, got on the bike and fired it up. “Hop on,” he yelled over the blam-blam-blam of the engine. Amazingly, she obeyed.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Just hold tight.”

She did, and he took off, barreling down the highway. She screamed at the first knee-scraping turn. She didn’t fight him, but he could tell she was scared because her arms trembled as they dug into his midsection, hanging on for dear life.

Good. He wanted her scared. Wanted her to be forced to trust him. To depend on him for her very life.

Then she’d see. He wouldn’t let her down. Wouldn’t let anything hurt her. That she didn’t have to be afraid of him, or her feelings for him. He’d keep her safe. He’d keep them safe.

He drove and drove. High into the mountains he took her, winding through the lush, towering evergreen forests and the still-leafless aspen groves with their white-barked skeletonlike branches reaching for the perfect, cloudless sky. Patches of snow remained on the shady northern slopes, and he was grateful they’d both worn their heavy jackets against the cold.

About the time they reached Bobcat Pass, he could feel Luce start to relax. Instead of crowding stiff against his back, her body became more fluid, part of him, part of the bike, and all three moved as one. He smiled.

Suddenly she put out an arm and pointed. A group of five or six whitetail deer popped their heads up from a meadow as they roared past. He gave her the thumb’s-up. And for the next half hour, they both enjoyed the ride.

Just ahead he spotted their destination.

“Hold on tight!” he yelled again, because she’d let her grip on his waist loosen as she gained more confidence.

“Why?” she yelled back.

“Trust me, baby,” he yelled. “Stay with me!”

Then he dropped the bike into a diving right turn, skimming his boot along the pavement to prevent it from skidding out from under them. He let out a whopping rebel yell and Luce screamed, but by the time they straightened up again, she was laughing at the top of her lungs.

“You are nuts! You are a crazy man!” she exclaimed when he pulled into the parking lot and let her jump off. But she was grinning and still laughing gleefully.

“What’s the matter, bounty hunter? Chicken?” He made chicken noises at her, flapping imaginary wings.

Her jaw dropped along with her helmet and she came after him. “I’ll show you chicken, lawman.”

Instead of running, he grabbed her and swung her around, her attack dissolving into giggles and hugs. So naturally he kissed her. And kissed her again. And then a little more, for good measure.

“That’s better,” he said, holding her close. “That’s how I like my bounty hunters. Feisty and sassy. Exciting and sexy. And not thinking about leaving me.”

“Oh, Philip,” she sighed, at once becoming more serious. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Stay,” he simply said.

“You know I can’t. We’ve been through it before. We’re too different. And I’m—”

“Chicken.”

This time there was no laughter. Her expression was heartbreaking. “Maybe,” she murmured.

Well, he thought, a breakthrough at last.

“Come with me,” he said, and wrapped an arm around her. “I need to tell you something.”

He started walking, past an old Huey helicopter dramatically posed in a nose-down crash position. Not a statue. The real thing.

“Where are we?” she asked, looking around for the first time, noticing the ’copter and the white ski-slope-shaped chapel.

“The Vietnam Veterans National Memorial.”

“What are we doing here?”

“Seemed appropriate for what I have to say.”

She didn’t comment, but gave him a puzzled glance before returning it to the incredible scenery around them. A chilly, whistling breeze blew past them. She shivered.

“Cold?”

“No. It’s just…eerie here. Almost haunted.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah. The souls of all those lost men. Lost in more ways than one… And the souls of all those they affected when they didn’t come home. Or did.”

He pulled her down on a bench overlooking the sweeping vista. She turned to him. “Your dad was in ’Nam?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And he came back in one piece. We thought, anyway. But the war never really ended. Not for a lot of those men, my dad included.”

“What happened?”

He took a deep breath. “It’s a long story, but several of the guys in his unit ended up settling in Inyo County, where my family is from. It was conservative enough there that Vietnam vets weren’t looked down on, or called baby-killers, like in so many other places. Dad was elected sheriff a couple years after his return.”

Philip remembered the victory celebration. American flags everywhere, his mom carrying his little sister—a homecoming baby—and Philip as proud as a six-year-old could possibly be. He’d seen enough John Wayne movies to know his daddy was a real war hero. John Wayne didn’t talk about his experiences, either.

“Anyway, those men were not okay. They got into drug dealing, illegal poaching and God knows what, all because they couldn’t readjust to normal society. My dad was involved, too.”

“Ah. That’s what the big scandal was. The one that made you leave California. When you were sheriff and it was all discovered.” She watched him for confirmation.

“Yep.” He took her hand and held it between both of his. “But I don’t regret the scandal, or leaving California.”

“What about the woman you lost?”

“What?” He frowned. “Oh, her. No, she ended up with the right man. The son of one of the guys in the unit—the one who paid the highest price for that war.” He shook his head. “But that’s a different story.”

“Then what is it you regret?” she asked.

“I regret the waste. The utter waste of so many human lives. And I don’t mean just the ones who died. The ones who survived, too, but couldn’t shake the experience. Couldn’t leave the past behind because it was too horrifying and painful to forget. That’s what I regret. The past ruling those men’s lives so fully they couldn’t live in the present, affecting those all around them, too. Wives, kids…”

“Oh, Philip, I’m so sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be. When I got on that Harley and rode away from Inyo County, I made a vow to myself. My past would always be a part of me, it’s what made me who I am today, but from that day forward, I was going to live in the present, not dwell on things I couldn’t change.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I feel a lesson coming on here,” she whispered.

He gave her a genuinely sympathetic smile. “You didn’t go off to war, but your past is no less painful for that.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and kept them there for a long time. Then he whispered, “Don’t let your pain blind you to your future, Luce.”

He felt her breath hitch and looked down into her beautiful blue eyes. One lone tear escaped her lashes and trailed down her cheek.

“How?” she quietly asked. “How can I do that?”

“You can’t change the past, but you can deal with it. Go and meet the Hidalgo and Santander families. Get a DNA test. Find out if you were that missing baby or not, and then move on.”

Chapter 14

Luce thought about what Philip had said all the way back to Taos, where they stopped for a meal since neither of them had eaten all day. And on the ride back to the Piñon Lake airstrip, and again on the helicopter trip out to Abiquiu and the ruins.

She’d never been in a helicopter before, but she hardly noticed the incredible views or the stomach-flipping maneuvers the pilot made, first to get a look at the cliff dwellings, then to spot the thieves’ offload point without whipping up the dirt with the propeller blades and obliterating forensics.

Captain Segura was obviously ecstatic about the whole find. “I can’t thank you enough for reporting this,” he told them, pumping both their hands as he dropped them at the airstrip before heading back to meet the crime-scene team he’d sent for from Kirtland. “Thanks to you we’re going to catch these bastards and hopefully shut down some terrorists. You two saved a lot of American lives today.”

Luce’s chest swelled with pride, but as soon as he was gone and she turned to Philip, everything came rushing back at her.

He stood, hands in his pockets, scraping the ground with his boot heel. “So,” he said, “what’s it going to be, bounty hunter?”

She knew exactly what he meant. “Jeez, Philip. I can’t just go barging into the Hidalgo and Santander homes and say, ‘Hi, I’m your long-lost niece,’ or whatever.”

“Why not?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that easy. They’d—”

“Philip?”

A young woman approached them, all perky and brunette and petite.

“Suzy?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt—” she flashed an apologetic smile “—but I thought I should tell you something strange I found.”

“Luce, this is Suzy Kendall, secretary at the Soffit and Dickson Law Offices that were robbed last week. Luce is helping me track down Clyde Tafota,” he told the petite woman.

“Oh! That’s great! Anyway, I don’t know if this is important or not. But you know how everyone thought the motive for the robbery was the missing money, even though of course Jim had nothing to do with its disappearance?”

“Yes, I remember,” Philip said patiently.

This must be the sister of the guy in jail, Luce thought.

“Well, I was going through some business today, and I realized there are several files missing from the locked cabinet. I looked everywhere. They’re gone.”

That got both their attentions. “Files?” Philip asked. “Which files, exactly?”

“They were all related to some old case we were handling against Hidalgo Industries.”

Philip froze. “Hidalgo? Do you know what was in them?”

“Years ago, Mr. Dickson was supposed to defend a Hidalgo accountant who was accused of embezzling and also stealing inventory. The man claimed to be innocent. The missing files contained financial records and some old memos from a company vice president, supposedly clearing the man.”

“Did it ever go to trial?”

“Apparently the accountant died before it could. Car accident or something, Mr. Dickson thought.”

“Are there copies of the files? Maybe saved on disk?”

Suzy shook her head. “Sorry. This case was really old. Before they had computers.”

“Okay.” He looked thoughtful. “Thanks, Suz.”

“Anytime, Philip.” The brunette gave him a dimpled smile and wiggled off.

Luce set her jaw. “I thought you arrested her brother.”

“What?”

“Never mind. What do you think it means?”

“God knows,” he said. “Probably nothing. Everything’s so incestuous in these small towns, Hidalgo Industries being involved may mean nothing. Or everything. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to know without seeing those files.”

“You think Clyde took them?”

He stared at her. “Why would he do that?” He put up a palm. “I know, I know, why would he be doing any of the things he’s been doing?”

“This case is getting crazier and crazier.”

“Tell me about it.” He drilled a hand through his hair. “We need to sit down and go through everything. Make a chart. There has to be something we’re overlooking. Let’s go back to my place and talk.” He started walking toward the Jeep.

She balked at the suggestion, but he didn’t even notice. His mind was obviously back on the case.

Aw, hell. She hurried after him.

“What about the bike?” she asked as he unlocked the Jeep.

He glanced at the Harley, then at her. She saw just when he remembered all that other stuff.

“It’s okay. I’ll stay long enough to take the DNA test,” she said quietly.

“Good. I’m glad.” He looked genuinely happy. “I’ll call Ted. He can run it as part of the old murder case.”

She exhaled and nodded. Then she came around and took the keys. “I’ll drive the Jeep to your place. You take the bike.”

He touched her cheek. “I’ll help you through this, Luce. Whatever happens, I’ll be there for you.”

“I know.”

She pulled back, afraid she’d throw herself into his comforting embrace. Afraid, because if she did, she didn’t think she could ever pull away again. It would be too easy to let him take care of her, let him make everything right.

But she had to do it herself. Or lose herself in this whole process.

“Thanks,” she said. And despite everything, meant it. “Now let’s go figure out what the heck is going on with Clyde.”

The crime-scene guys had come and gone in her room, so Philip made her pack all her things to take with them to his house.

When they arrived, he put her suitcase in his room. Her heart pounded with the implications.

For him things were settled. She was here. She was his. He’d staked his claim, and if she disagreed she’d have to be the one to argue against it.

Did she want to? Lord, she didn’t know.

She didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t know what to do.

She sat on the sofa and stared at the flames dancing brightly in the fireplace while Philip puttered in the kitchen for a few minutes while talking on the phone. To Ted, no doubt.

Oh, God help her get through this. All of it.

After he hung up, the phone rang again, and he talked for another few minutes.

“That was Captain Segura,” he said when he walked into the living room. “They caught a guard at the ruins when they went back. They’re close to making a deal to get him to spill his guts on the military-theft ring.”

“That’s great.” At least all their efforts weren’t in vain. But… Suddenly she realized it must have been the guard she’d heard at the ruins, not Clyde. Oh, no.

Philip sat down beside her on the sofa. “I bought you a present.” He eased a small package between her laced fingers.

She looked up in surprise. “Another present? But when?”

“In the restaurant in Taos. While you were in the rest room. I saw it and thought… Well, you’ll see.”

She tore open the plain wrapping on the small box. “Oh, Philip!” It was a Santa riding a red chile, hanging by a loop of gold twine. She laughed. “A New Mexico Santa! It’s so cute. Thank you!” She gave him a big hug, touched more than words could say. He always knew exactly the right thing.

“To remember me by. Just in case…” He rolled his shoulders.

Her heart squeezed. “I’ll treasure it forever. I’ll treasure you forever. No matter what.”

“Let’s have some coffee,” he said, rising. “And try to sort through this mixed-up mess.”

She brought the Santa ornament with her. She didn’t want to put it down. The jolly old grandfather with his laughing face always cheered her, no matter how miserable or uncertain she was feeling. And this one had come from the man she loved. She kept it pressed safely in her palm, clinging to it like a talisman.

They had to find the plane. It was her only option.

As they sipped through the entire pot of coffee, they went over everything they knew about the case—or cases—and how it all fit together. Which wasn’t much, and what there was didn’t make much sense. There were still too many coincidences and not enough facts solidly linking them. The only thread running through everything seemed to be Hidalgo Industries.

“Here’s what I think,” Philip said. “The theft of the Hidalgo chips was also perpetrated by the people who hid their stolen loot in the box canyon. Probably someone in the theft gang works for Hidalgo, or somehow knew about the Beechcraft plane’s mechanical difficulties. That way they could be on the alert, and ready to steal a shipment at a moment’s notice if it broke down again.”

“That would make Clyde our prime candidate,” she said.

“Yeah. I’m afraid it does. When the plane made its emergency landing, the airport supervisor called Tafota to come fix it, since he’s Hidalgo’s regular mechanic. He could have tipped them off.”

“We need to find out if those chips were part of the cache.”

“I already asked Captain Segura to let me know when the inventory’s finished.”

“Good. So if our theory’s correct, if we find the plane, hopefully we’ll find Clyde, or at least his trail. Time’s almost out on this retrieval,” she said in frustration, especially now she knew it wasn’t Clyde at the canyon.

“But how to find the plane?”

They sat for a few minutes staring into their coffee cups, Luce rubbing Santa’s tummy in her lap, hoping for inspiration. “What about those faxes and e-mails you sent? Have you heard back from anyone?”

Philip looked up. “Damn!” He jumped from his chair. “What with everything else, I’ve forgotten to check my e-mail.”

Five minutes later she read the third reply he’d gotten on his inquiries over his shoulder. As he scrolled down, her excitement mounted.

“My God,” she said. “This could be the plane!”

“Sure sounds like it,” he agreed. He smiled over his shoulder at her. “Shall we take a ride?”

The e-mail message had been sent by the old codger who took care of a private airstrip used by a few very wealthy families who owned luxury cabins up in the mountains outside of Taos. Philip only knew about it because he’d given a ride to a vivacious redhead who’d vacationed at one of those cabins a couple of years back, whose private plane had left from the strip.

Come to think of it, the Hidalgos were one of the families who owned a cabin nearby. Could this have been the cabin where Peter Santander was shot? He’d have to check with Ted.

The old codger who e-mailed thought he’d seen a Beechcraft King Air like the missing Hidalgo plane. It had circled the airstrip a few days back, but he wasn’t certain it had landed, since nobody had called him for the gate key.

“I sure hope this is the break we’ve been waiting for,” Philip called out the window as Luce closed the third cattle gate they’d encountered on the dirt track up to the airstrip.

“I’m going to be very upset if I’ve climbed through all these cow patties for nothing,” Luce groused, gingerly hanging the loop of barbed wire back over the primitive gate posts as he’d shown her to do at the first gate.

He chuckled. “Just think if you’d still been wearing sneakers.” He grinned as she slid back into the Jeep, scraping her boots on the running board. “Hey, watch the hardware. This is an official police vehicle, y’know.”

“And I’m your official police deputy, as I recall. Though I never did get that badge you promised me.”

“Oops. Guess we’ll have to—Holy c-ow!” He swore roundly, and swerved the Jeep off the road, coming to a teeth-grinding halt. “I think we’ve found our plane.” He pointed to the wreckage of a small prop plane mostly hidden beneath the canopy of pines.

“Oh, my God.” Luce zipped out of the Jeep at a run. “It crash landed!”

He took off after her. “Luce, don’t! It could be unstable!”

They both stopped a few yards short of the bent and broken fuselage. It didn’t look good. The nose was crumpled and the windscreen shattered, both wings shorn off by the impact with pine trees.

“It must have hit a treetop taking off or something.”

“Where’s the airstrip?”

“About half a mile farther up the road. Wait here,” he said, and started to pick his way through the underbrush toward the wreckage.

“Not on your life.” She was right behind him when he saw the body. Stiff and chalky white, skin already flaking. Dead.

“Aw, hell.”

“Is it Clyde?”

“Yeah.” He put his hands on his hips and let out a deep sigh. “Damn it. What did he think he was doing?”

He felt her arms go around him from behind and her cheek press against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Philip” she murmured. “I know you wanted to clear him. I never dreamed we weren’t finding him because he was…dead.”

Thinking of the man’s family, Philip pressed the heels of his palms against his forehead and swore. “How does a man go this bad this fast? I don’t understand what was driving him.”

“We still don’t know he was bad,” Luce returned. “He might have been forced or blackmailed.”

“Yeah.” He jetted out a harsh breath. “I suppose.”

“We should check the hold. See if the shipment is still in there.”

Luce was right, of course. On both counts. “You stay here. I’ll poke my head in where the wing ripped off.” He gingerly approached the plane and peered around inside. “Empty,” he said. “So what does that tell us?”

“Someone else must be involved.”

He nodded. “There could have been a second person in the plane who survived and got away with the shipment.”

“Maybe the shipment was already gone when Clyde took the plane.”

“Or someone deliberately brought the plane down and took it.”

“Or came along after the crash, found the stuff and made off with it.”

“Sounds like a job for a CSI. Who do you call in for forensics? Ted’s guys?”

He laughed sardonically. “Forensics? I’ve never needed forensics on any case before. Hell, I don’t have cases in Piñon Lake. Nothing ever happens here.”

She nodded, straight-faced. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that.”

“Smart-aleck.” Twice in one day. This was getting downright ridiculous. Lost tourists—that’s what he was supposed to deal with. Not real crime. Certainly nothing that could bring national attention to his little village—and himself. Damn, damn, damn. “I better call Ted to bring in his team again.”

“And the medical examiner.”

“Yeah. Her, too.”

“What’s that?” Luce asked, pointing to a jumble of things next to the pilot’s seat.

Philip leaned in for a closer look. “Fast-food remnants. Jacket. Baseball cap. Good grief, it’s—” He reached in as far as he could, snagged the corner of a pile of oversize manila folders and carefully pulled them loose. “Legal files.”

“Suzy’s missing files?” she asked excitedly.

“I’m not sure—”

Suddenly, the peaceful mountain air was shattered by the explosion of a gunshot.

Instinctively, Philip clasped the files to his chest, grabbed Luce and dropped them both to the ground, rolling toward the cover of nearby trees.

Another gunshot rang out. A bullet ripped through the metal of the plane behind them.

Luce cursed quietly. “You carrying?” she whispered.

“Beretta’s in the Jeep with your Walther. I wasn’t expecting trouble.”

“We need to get to it. Create a diversion and I’ll run for it.”

“No chance. I’ve got the key to the strongbox. I’ll run.” He gathered up several baseball-size rocks and handed them to her. “Throw these in the other direction and try to figure out where the shots are coming from.”

She nodded and followed his silent countdown, throwing the first missile on zero. He took off at a sprint. He heard the rocks crash into the plane and tumble noisily down the other side, one after the other. Immediately several gunshots blasted. He wasn’t hit. He made it to the Jeep and dove onto the back bench, wincing as his shin hit a sharp edge. He held his breath for the next shot. The one that would take him down.

None came. The diversion had worked.

In a flash he had his gun out and looked to Luce for direction. She pointed steadily to a copse of pines up the hill. He aimed and let five shots whale. Two more answered his, but they went wild. Then there was silence.

Luce threw another few stones, but no more shots came. He beckoned, and she dashed to the Jeep. By the time she jumped in, he had the engine running and the wheels cranked for a U-turn. He tossed her the gun and they were out of there.

At the first cow-catcher gate down the hill, he prayed the shooter wasn’t following them. “I’ll go,” he said.

She nodded, and slid behind the wheel. Thankfully, they got through without incident.

“Whew.” She let out a breath, her eyes meeting his. “That was exciting.”

That kind of excitement he could do without, and he said so. Since Luce was now driving, he pulled out his cell phone. “I better call Ted. And Captain Segura. They’re both going to want to know about this.”

“Should you call Joseph Clay Pipe?” she asked, gaze softening with sympathy.

“Yeah. Better do that, too.”

That was one phone call he was not looking forward to making.

Philip had Luce park the Jeep behind some bushes where the road met the highway until Ted arrived. They stayed hidden in case the shooter tried to drive out that way. He didn’t. But Ted got there surprisingly quickly, so Philip helped secure the crime scene, then waited for Segura to arrive an hour later.

“Only about half of the chips from this shipment showed up in the cache of stolen crates at the ruins,” Segura told them after taking a look at the plane.

“Half? That’s strange,” Philip said.

“Maybe they had a different buyer for the rest,” Ted said.

“Or were interrupted taking the shipment off the plane.”

“Maybe Clyde interrupted them,” Luce suggested. “When he was repairing the plane, he could have overheard the bad guys discussing plans for the theft. But instead of reporting it, he decided to rescue the shipment for his employer.”

“Or hijacked the chips for himself,” Ted said.

“Then where’s the rest of the shipment?” she asked.

“Good point.”

“Anyway, we know he’s been dead a few days by the decomposition of the body. Whatever it was, it must have happened the day the plane was stolen.”

The M.E. walked by just then, accompanying two EMTs with Clyde’s remains in a body bag, and the four of them stood in a line watching.

“Hopefully the forensics people will come up with something to narrow it down,” Philip said with a sigh.

When the ambulance had gone, Ted gently cleared his throat. “Luce, can I see you for a sec? In private?”

Philip struck up a conversation with Segura about what else they’d found at the cache, already knowing what was going on between Ted and Luce. He was taking the DNA swabs. Last night on the phone, they’d decided Ted should take two samples. One to send to the usual lab, which would take six weeks or more to get results back on. The other, Ted would overnight to the FBI in Albuquerque, who had a new field-test kit that would give instant results. Not nearly as reliable or complete, but hopefully enough to get a ruling one way or the other. She would only find out about Maria, since Peter hadn’t required a DNA test before burial, and therefore had no records to compare with Luce’s results. But it was a start.

Philip could see them talking quietly, Luce with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, staring at the ground. He longed to go over and put his arms around her, to reassure her. But he had a feeling she wasn’t in the mood for that kind of gesture.

And he didn’t feel like being rebuffed in front of half the Sheriff’s Department. Again. That scenario brought back way too many bad memories.

He might be living in the present these days, but a fool he wasn’t.

“Everything all right?” he asked, when she and Ted finally came over to rejoin them.

She nodded, but he could tell she was upset and a million miles away.

“We found the missing files from the lawyer’s office robbery, so we can have Jim Kendall released from jail,” Philip told Ted.

“That should make Suzy happy.” His friend gave his shoulder a thump of solidarity. “You both look like you’re about to fall over.”

“It’s been a long few days,” Philip admitted. “You need us anymore?”

“Nah,” Ted said. “Get out of here and get some rest. Your job is done.”

Philip tried to smile, but couldn’t. “Yeah.”

His case was closed. And Luce’s.

She’d be leaving soon. Maybe even tonight….

He set his jaw determinedly. No. Not if he could help it. They had a few things to settle first.

Like the fact that even now his child might be growing inside her.

And the fact that even if it wasn’t, he didn’t want her to leave.

Ever.

The plain truth was, he was in love with Luce Montgomery. Totally, inescapably, head-over-heels in love with the woman. And this time, nothing…nothing…would stand in the way of him getting what he wanted. Which was her in his bed, in his home, and in his life.

Permanently.

Chapter 15

On the way back to Philip’s, they stopped by the Shamrock Slipper to pick up some takeout for dinner. The delicious scent of chili and fresh-baked rolls permeated the small vehicle, but tonight it just made Luce queasy. She couldn’t stop thinking about the DNA test she’d just done. And wondering if it was the right choice.

In her mind she knew it was. But her stomach was telling her it had been a big, fat mistake not to leave well enough alone.

As a distraction, she called her boss to give him the news about Clyde.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. “I know you were counting on the retrieval fee for your P.I. business.”

“Yeah, well, there’ll be other jobs. I just feel awful about Clyde. That man had some terrible luck.”

“When are you coming home? I’ll save the next jumper for you.”

She shot a glance at Philip, who was studiously ignoring her conversation. “Not sure. I, uh, have a couple of things to clear up first.”

Arthur chuckled. “Take all the time you need. But you be careful of the cops out there in New Mexico. I hear they have a way of casting spells on innocent young ladies.”

“Guess I’m safe, then,” she drawled. “And don’t believe everything my mom tells you,” she added before saying goodbye.

A scowling Philip pulled the Jeep into its usual parking spot at the edge of the cliff, where they’d watched their first sunset together. Neither of them moved.

Once again the sun was going down, all red and purple and yellow and orange. It was so beautiful it made her heart hurt.

Philip didn’t even seem to notice it. He ran his finger back and forth along the rim of the steering wheel, looking as if he had something other than sunsets and food on his mind.

She didn’t know if she was ready for the conversation she knew was coming.

“So, am I one of those things you have to clear up before leaving?” he asked, breaking the silence.

She was definitely not ready for that conversation.

“I was thinking more along the lines of the DNA test,” she said. Which was true enough. She didn’t even want to think about the other. She’d break down completely if she did.

“Ah,” he said, sounding singularly unconvinced. “You’ll get the results tomorrow?”

“That’s what Ted claims.”

There was a pause. “Then what happens?”

She rolled down the window and took a deep breath to settle her stomach. “I guess…I go back home. Assuming I’m not a Hidalgo. Which I am. Assuming.”

“And what if you are a Hidalgo?”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the seat. She was still convinced she hadn’t found her real family. But what if she had? The thought terrified her.

“I don’t see that happening. It’s just too crazy.”

“But if it did?”

With difficulty, she tried to imagine what it would it be like to have blood relatives after all this time. What would they think of her?

Probably not much.

The Hidalgos were an old, wealthy, aristocratic family who didn’t even like having a bookkeeper in their midst. How would they react to an out-of-control bounty hunter crashing their ranks? One who’d been raised by a used-car salesman and an outspoken women’s libber. One who also threatened the status quo of the family hierarchy.

She suddenly realized she was trembling. And scared to death. The fear that crawled down her spine was visceral, overwhelming.

“They won’t want me,” she whispered.

Philip touched her cheek. “Don’t be silly. Of course they’ll want you. Why wouldn’t they?”

She stuck her hands under her armpits to make them stop shaking. “Maria Hidalgo married Peter Santander against both sets of parents’ wishes. Ted told me his mother is still alive.”

“Hell, Luce, that would make you her granddaughter. I know if I had a lost granddaughter floating around, I’d want her back big-time.”

Her throat closed up at the thought. “Maybe. But even if she did, the others wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Peter Santander was the oldest son. And Maria was heir to a fortune.”

Philip didn’t respond for several moments. “I see your point,” he finally murmured. “Inheritances could be at stake.”

“Why put myself through all that? I already have a perfectly good family, whom I love with all my heart.”

Coward, coward!

“Because if the Hidalgos and Santanders are your flesh and blood, they need to know the truth. At least they deserve to be told you exist.”

She turned to look at him, surprised by the vehemence of his words and tone. “But what if knowing that only creates unhappiness and problems for everyone concerned?”

“You don’t know it will. And keeping secrets like that—big secrets—will always lead to much greater heartache.”

The red glow from the disappearing sun cast his features in an eerie collage of shadows and light. He looked almost threatening. And so serious. Like he knew exactly what he was talking about. She supposed he did with all those things about his father coming out years later.

But it was easy for Philip to sit there and talk. He was braver than she was. Plus he wasn’t the one staring down the barrel of a frightening, uncertain fate. He already knew who he was and where he wanted to be.

She was just struggling to stay afloat among all the doubts. Fighting the urge to run as far and as fast as she could. Because suddenly her whole life seemed like a sham.

Deep down, had she always known it was her birth family she’d been searching for? Not chasing after some ethereal good thing she assumed was just on the other side of the mountain?

She closed her eyes again. “Have I finally reached the other side of the mountain?” she whispered.

Philip reached over and gave her knee a squeeze, and whispered back, “I hope so.”

Despite not being hungry, Luce let Philip feed her. It was something he seemed to need to do, so she indulged him.

He really was the most amazing man. A big, tough cop, macho to the max, but not afraid to show his feelings or take the time to make her feel safe and pampered.

He’d make a hell of a husband for some woman one day.

The thought that the woman wouldn’t be her made Luce’s chest squeeze so tight, for a minute she couldn’t breathe.

“You okay?” he asked, refilling her iced tea.

She nodded, unable to actually say it aloud. Because it wasn’t true. She doubted she’d ever be okay again.

What was she doing? She was so confused she didn’t know which way to turn.

All her life she’d been afraid to face the truth about her so-called restlessness, unwilling to acknowledge, even to herself, it was the family who abandoned her she’d been seeking. Even now she was petrified to face the results of her DNA test, terrified that when they learned she was alive, they would once again reject and abandon her.

But had she also been avoiding love in her relationships with men because of the same deep-rooted fear?

“You look exhausted,” Philip said. “Why don’t we have an early night?”

Her pulse skittered.

She didn’t know if she could take another night in his arms. Another night of his hot and tender lovemaking. Another night to remember him by when she was back in St. Louis, kicking herself for letting him go.

“Okay,” she said, and for the first time she thought to herself, maybe, just maybe, she didn’t really have to let him go.

“Let’s grab a shower first.”

Thoughts of their shower last night sifted through her memory, and she shivered. “Together?”

He glanced over at her, obviously remembering, also. “Listen, about last night. I’ve been meaning to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

She watched as he put out the fire in the fireplace and closed the glass doors. “I was trying to pretend I didn’t care about you. More than casually. And I maybe came off a bit…callous.”

“Why would you do that? Pretend?”

“It seemed to be what you wanted. Someone cool and casual.”

“That’s not how you feel?”

“No,” he said. “It’s not.” But he didn’t elaborate, he put an arm around her and led her into his bedroom, propelling her toward the bathroom. “You start the shower. I’ll stoke up the woodstove so it’s nice and warm when we get out.”

She did as she was told, shedding her clothes in a pile like yesterday and stepping under the hot spray, hoping it would soothe her frazzled nerves.

“I’m feeling a bit shell-shocked,” she admitted when Philip joined her.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said softly, and he did. He washed her and rinsed her and stood stoically as she lost herself in the hard geography of his body with the shower gel. She didn’t know how something so powerful and muscular could be so comforting to touch and caress.

She especially liked touching the taut iron velvet of his masculinity. He seemed to like it, too. But after a minute he grabbed her wrist, turned off the water and suggested they get out.

Then he dried her with a soft towel, carried her to his bed, and made achingly sweet love to her, until all she could see, all she could hear, all she could feel, everything she knew, everything she would always know, was Philip.

Only Philip.

Luce woke the next morning with a sense of impending dread. She knew this could be the most momentous day of her life. But she didn’t want to face it. All she wanted was to huddle close to Philip’s strong body and hide there under the covers forever.

She’d changed her mind. She didn’t want to know the results of the DNA test. She liked her family just fine the way it was.

She snuggled closer, stroking her hand over Philip’s chest and abdomen, and lower.

“Mmm,” he purred sleepily, stirring to life. “I could get used to waking up like this.” He smiled up at the ceiling, but didn’t open his eyes. “Your turn to be on top.”

“Lazy bones,” she chided softly. Not that she minded a bit when he rolled her onto his chest.

“You wore me out last night,” he protested smugly, hooking her knees down beside his ribs so she straddled him. He grasped her hips and in two swift motions, he was inside her.

With a gasp of pleasure, she settled down harder and pushed him in deeper. He groaned and arched his back, hilting inside of her.

Suddenly she remembered, and gave a moan of distress. “We forgot protection.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He pulled her back onto him when she made to withdraw. “Don’t go.”

“Philip, I don’t want to get pregnant.”

“Too late,” he murmured, running his hands along her thighs.

She frowned. “What?”

He didn’t reply, just continued smoothing his hands over her nakedness. When he drew his fingers lingeringly over her belly, shivers of warning tingled through her.

“What do you mean, too late?”

He looked up at her with an expression somewhere between defiance and guilt. They were still joined, and she could feel him pulse within her, hot and huge. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but I wanted to wait until—”

“Philip, please what are you talking about?”

“One of the condoms we used, the first night, it ripped.”

His words spun through her in slow motion. Like in a kung fu movie where the guy was doing one of those jumping kicks and the film slows down to show every inch of his windup and its impact in vivid detail.

“It ripped?” she managed to squeak through the ton of bricks that hit her square in the gut. “It ripped?”

“I don’t know how. It’s never happened to me before.”

Not to her, either, on the few occasions where it might have.

She stared down at him, trying to gauge her own reaction, but feeling strangely…disoriented. “You lied to me?”

“I didn’t lie to you,” he said calmly. Calmer by miles than she felt. Calmer than she would ever feel again. “I just delayed telling you because—”

“How could you do that?” She couldn’t believe it of him. Him, of all people. “You lied to me!”

She could be pregnant. With Philip’s baby.

She had to get out of there. Had to think. She wrenched off him and scrambled from the bed. Headed for the bathroom. Slamming the door, she locked it and pulled on the shorts and T-shirt from yesterday that still lay on the floor.

“Luce!” He yanked repeatedly on the door handle, trying to get to her. “Listen to me!”

“No.”

“I was going to tell you, obviously. I just wanted to wait until—”

She jerked open the door and wrestled past him. “Until what? I was gone and you could get an unlisted phone number?”

“What? No! Luce, wait!” He grabbed her as she grappled with the strap to her suitcase, which was still sitting next to the hall door. His fingers dug into her upper arms, but she hardly noticed the pain. “I wanted you to stay for me. Not the baby. Not because you had to stay, but because you wanted to.”

She stared at him, his words slowly penetrating the haze of anger and confusion.

She burst into tears.

She didn’t know who was more surprised, him or herself.

“I have to get out of here,” she hiccoughed. “Let me go.”

It was probably the flood of tears, but his hands dropped to his sides and he just watched as she snatched up her suitcase and ran for the front door.

“Keys are on the kitchen table,” he called after her.

She grabbed them, and somehow navigated the Jeep down the long driveway to the highway, found the village and the Lakeview Motel where her own car was parked. She didn’t know where she was going, she only knew she had to get away from Piñon Lake. And Philip. At least long enough to sort through the avalanche of feelings that plowed through her each time she thought about what had just happened. And what he’d just said.

Tossing her suitcase into the passenger seat of her Volvo, she revved up the motor and squealed out of the parking lot.

It was when she swerved to avoid mowing down the row of mailboxes across from the Shamrock Slipper that she realized she had no brakes.

For the twenty-seventh time since Luce had stormed out of his house, Philip started counting the knotholes in the cedar beams holding up his bedroom ceiling. So far he’d only made it to thirty-eight knots—about a third of the beams—before the thoughts and recriminations took over his consciousness, forcing him to start counting over.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Why hadn’t he told her about the condom right away? He should listen to his own advice. Keeping secrets only led to disaster. Would he never learn the lesson of his father’s example?

Now he’d lost her. The only woman he’d ever loved so much it made his very soul ache to contemplate a future without her.

He’d tried everything to make her love him back, but in the end his love hadn’t been enough to tempt her to stay. And the thought of having a child with him had made her run like the devil for the hills.

The phone rang but he let the machine pick up in the kitchen, preferring to stay in bed and stare at the ceiling. He listened impassively to the barely audible drone of his own voice giving the usual instructions. Then a man came on the line, saying Philip’s name. Ted maybe?

He didn’t feel like talking to Ted.

He heard his name again, louder this time. Yeah, yeah. Hell, Ted probably wanted to talk to Luce, anyway. Let him call her cell phone. Unless there was blood involved, the chief of police was taking the day off.

“Philip!” he heard Ted yell distinctly over the line all the way from the kitchen. “Pick up the goddamn phone! Now!”

“Jeez. All right, already,” he muttered. The man obviously had a bug up his nose about something he considered important. Philip grudgingly picked up the phone, just to get rid of the bastard. “What?” he growled in what he hoped were icy tones.

“I don’t want you to get all upset or anything. Everything’s fine,” Ted assured him. Great. Then he could hang up. He was just about to do so when Ted said, “But Luce has been in an accident.”

Philip desperately searched the kitchen table for his keys. They weren’t there for some reason, and he had to find them fast. Luce had been in an accident. He plowed through the odds and ends on the counter, scattering them to the four corners of the room.

Damn!

He went for his spare keys in the bottom drawer and stormed out to the parking area, only to find the Jeep missing.

Damn! Luce had taken it. She must have been in the Jeep for her accident. That was good. The Jeep had a roll bar that would protect her. If she’d had her seat belt on.

He sprinted to the garage and fired up the Harley, making it to town in about half his usual time.

The Slipper, Ted had said. She’d crashed into the Slipper’s patio. How the hell could she have done that? She must have been really upset with him. Really upset.

He groaned, roaring around the final curve like a madman.

What he saw made his heart stall.

“About time the local constabulary showed up.”

Betsy sniffed at Philip and put a shielding hand on Luce’s shoulder. Luce was sitting at a back table, holding her head in her hands and ignoring him. Betsy glared at him as if he were a serial killer, not her old friend.

“What happened?” he demanded, with perhaps a bit too much vehemence. “Luce, talk to me.”

“I crashed,” she mumbled under her hands. “And I don’t want to talk to you.”

“That’s too damn bad,” he said, endeavoring to keep his temper under control. “Because I’m the law in this town, and you have no choice.”

“You can talk to me,” Betsy interjected. “I saw the whole thing.”

“Well?” he asked, planting his fists on his hips. “What happened?”

“She said you had a fight and she didn’t notice her brakes weren’t working right. She crashed into the patio. Luckily it was between breakfast and lunch rushes.”

“Her brakes weren’t working right? Did you tell Ted?” Ted had been outside examining the wreckage of Luce’s car and the remains of the Shamrock Slipper outdoor patio dining area when Philip had pulled up. He hadn’t stopped to chat.

“I told him,” Luce muttered.

“What were you fighting about?” Betsy asked, condemnation dripping from her voice.

“She’s pregnant,” he said evenly, making Betsy gasp and Luce finally drop her hands to glare at him.

“I am not,” she seethed.

“Prove it,” he dared. She just set her teeth.

“Well, that didn’t take you long,” Betsy declared with a huff and marched away. No doubt to spread the word among the townsfolk drifting into the restaurant because of the excitement.

Ha. Suited him fine. He wasn’t the one running away.

“How dare you tell everyone our personal business!”

“How dare you run away from me?”

“I wasn’t running away.”

“You were doing a damn good imitation.”

Ted strode up, angrily wiping his hands on an oil-caked towel. “The brake line was punctured.”

“What?” he and Luce said in unison. Then Philip swore, and she muttered, “My insurance rates are going to go through the roof for this. Must have run over something really sharp.”

“No,” Ted said, a nasty look on his face. “You don’t understand. It was deliberately punctured.”

Her face went whiter than a sheet. “You mean someone wanted me to crash?”

Philip let out another oath. “That’s it.” He pointed a finger at her. “You are not going anywhere, do you understand me? You do not leave my sight. Not until all of this, and I do mean all of this, is straightened out.”

She jumped up, and for a second he thought she was going to take a swing at him. Then she turned green, slapped a hand over her mouth and ran for the bathroom.

He stalked after her, bracing his hands on the frame when she slammed the door in his face and locked it. “Luce, are you all right?” He could hear the stifled sounds of her being sick. “Luce, let me in.”

Her muffled answer made his brows hike.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re mad, but—” He heard her throw up again. He rattled the handle. “Luce. Is this…morning sickness or are you scared? I know you’re upset—”

The door flung open.

“Just. Shut. Up. Please,” she said through gritted teeth.

The door slammed again, and he stepped back to avoid a broken nose. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he turned to find Ted and Betsy standing there watching, along with about ten other customers behind them. None looked happy. In fact, the term lynch mob came to mind.

“Oh, stop it,” he said with a grimace. “She’s the one who was leaving town.” He banded his arms over his chest and stared at them till they all went away. Except for Ted, who motioned him over to the nearest table.

“Leave her be for a few minutes,” he said. “We need to talk, anyway.”

Reluctantly, Philip left his post at the rest room door and went to straddle a chair at the table. Facing the bathroom.

“The brakes were deliberately tampered with?” he asked.

His friend nodded. “A hole poked in the line. Must have happened a few days back because most of the brake fluid had already leaked out. Good thing. Otherwise she’d probably gone over the side of the mountain farther down the road.”

Red-hot anger seared through him, then he got dead calm. Nobody messed with his woman. Nobody who wanted to live.

“Who?” he asked.

Ted searched his face. “Don’t forget you’re a cop, O’Donnaugh. Murder is frowned on in these parts. Even if the bastard deserves it.”

“Who?” he repeated.

Ted shook his head. “Don’t know. My money is on the same person or persons who tossed her room at the Lakeview.”

“Ever get any prints off that?”

“Yeah, about five dozen. Still eliminating previous motel guests.”

“Any matching prints from the plane wreck yesterday? Or the military cache?”

“I’ve got a deputy coordinating that. We’re dusting the car right now. By the way, we got the prelim back this morning from the M.E. on Clyde Tafota.”

“And?”

“Clyde was shot.”

Philip felt his blood stall in his veins. “Shot?”

“Yep. And you’ll never guess with what.”

Ah, hell. Hell and damn. “What?” he asked.

“The same gun that was used twenty-eight years ago to kill Peter Santander.”

Right in front of him he heard a gasp.

Luce! She started to fold like an accordion. He lurched from his chair and caught her just before she hit the floor.

Chapter 16

“Baby, wake up. Sweetheart, come on, now.”

The black muzziness slowly receded. Luce felt a gentle slap on her cheek. She opened her eyes to see Philip peering worriedly down at her.

“Hit me again, O’Donnaugh, and I’ll be forced to take measures.”

Relief flooded his handsome features. “Thank God.”

“What happened?” She had a vague notion, but wanted it confirmed.

“You fainted.”

That’s what she was afraid of. She snorted. “Try again, lawman. Bounty hunters don’t faint.” If she didn’t feel so lousy, she’d be embarrassed.

“I suppose they don’t puke their guts out, either,” he said.

“You got it.” She shifted and realized he was sitting on the restaurant floor and she was sprawled across his lap, reclining in his arms.

He pushed a stray lock from her cheek. “You heard that last part? About the gun?”

“Yeah.” She sat up and he helped her, holding her in case she went down again. She raked her hands through her hair and held her temples, trying to stop the spinning in her head. “It’s them, isn’t it? Whoever killed Peter and Maria. They’re after me now. Because they think…”

Ted elbowed through the crowd surrounding them. “They’d be right.” He hunkered down, his gaze flicking between hers and Philip’s. “Just got a call from Albuquerque. The DNA test was a match.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and Philip tightened his grip on her, pulling her to his chest. She felt his lips on her forehead. “Congratulations, honey,” he whispered.

Yeah. Right. This should be one of the best moments in her life, and all she wanted to do was cry. She’d finally found her lost parents, but they were dead and she’d never get to know them. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to quell the chaos in her mind. A hopeless task.

“Can you stand up?” he asked. She nodded. “Good. I’m taking you to the station. It’s quiet there and we can talk through everything.” He turned to Ted. “Can you come over when you’re done here?”

“Sure thing. I’ll bring the paperwork.”

“Speaking of which, where’s the Jeep?”

“The Lakeview,” she told him.

Ted tossed him his keys. “Take the cruiser. I’ll walk.”

She hadn’t been to the Piñon Lake Police Station before. She hadn’t even realized there was one. The chief didn’t seem to spend a lot of time there.

Five minutes later Luce was ensconced in one of four rocking chairs surrounding an old woodstove at the station. The cold snap from yesterday was still going strong, so she had a wool blanket on her lap and Philip was putting a match to the fire already laid in the black stove.

Desperate for something else to think about besides the DNA results and the lecture she was about to get from Philip about running away, she looked around. Philip’s police station was like something out of Mayberry, or the Old West. Ancient oak furniture, solid as the mountains outside the windows, giant desk and office chair, an old-fashioned, glassed-in bookcase and oak file cabinet. Oak gun rack. Oak paddle fan in the ceiling. Oak paneling. Probably oak spindles on the holding cell in back.

She smiled.

“What?” he asked, pulling one of the other rockers close to hers.

“Very Americana. All you need is a Norman Rockwell print.”

He glanced around with a wry grin. “Not exactly my style. But I do like it. Makes me feel very…”

“Wyatt Earp?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Suits you.”

He eyed her wryly. “Is this one of those conservative cracks again?”

She matched his smile. “It has its charms, as I recall.”

“Thank you. I think.” He took her hand, his expression turning somber. “Listen, Luce—”

She held up the other. “Wait.” She had a pretty good guess what was coming. “Before you yell at me, please let me say something first.”

“I wasn’t going to yell at you.”

“Yes you were, and maybe I deserved it for running off like that earlier. But here’s the thing, Philip. In the past few hours my whole life has gone to hell. First you inform me I may be pregnant, then someone tries to kill me, then I find out who my real parents were and—guess what—they were murdered.”

“Let me help you.”

“I’m not saying no. I just can’t deal with this stuff all at once.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I just don’t want to make a bad decision, or say something I’ll regret, which is one of the reasons I left like I did this morning.”

He didn’t look happy. But to his credit, he didn’t argue. “You’re saying you want to deal with things one at a time?”

“It’s the only way I’ll get through it.”

He let out a quiet sigh and leaned his elbows on his knees. “All right. I understand. But I want you to know one thing.”

“Okay.”

He met her gaze. “If you run away again, I’ll hunt you down.”

He said it with his usual calm, but she could feel the blunt intensity of his words clear to her toes. She shivered. He meant it.

She couldn’t help wondering whether it was her or his baby he wanted so much he’d track her to the ends of the earth—which she had no doubts he’d do.

Suddenly she got it. She understood what he’d been saying that morning. Why he’d delayed telling her about the ripped condom.

Her heart sang. It was her he wanted that badly.

She prayed she was right.

She turned to him, opened her mouth to ask, but just then Ted walked in.

“Forensics is at the Slipper. They said they were thinking about opening a branch in Piñon Lake, all the business you’ve been giving them lately.” Ted set a full carafe of coffee on the woodstove, a bag on one of the free rockers and tossed Philip a set of keys.

“Very funny.” Philip looked at the keys. “You got the Jeep from the Lakeview?”

“Figured you’d need it. I found the insurance card in the glove compartment and called your insurance company. They are sending a tow truck and an adjuster,” he said to Luce. “I told them you’d be here. Want some coffee? Betsy sent it. Decaf.”

She smiled gratefully. “I’d love some.” She’d have to remember to thank the woman for taking such good care of her through all this. It suddenly struck her a community like this would be a great place to raise a child.

No. She wasn’t going there. Not yet.

Ted walked to a cupboard for mugs, and Philip said, “I’ll be right back. I think I left those files in the Jeep. The ones from the plane yesterday.”

When he returned, they all sat around the woodstove sipping coffee and going through the stuff from the files. It was as good a place as any to start. And it felt a lot safer than thinking about…other things.

“I’m sure an accountant could decipher this stuff,” Philip said after glancing over his pile for a moment. “Looks like these were photocopied from a bookkeeping ledger book. But I can’t make head nor tail of it. And I don’t see how it could prove anyone’s innocence. A ledger can be faked, can’t it?”

“Maybe that’s what they were trying to prove,” Luce said. “Look. Down here at the bottom of the page there is a P.S. It says ‘Terminate.’ So, maybe Hidalgo Industries fired the accountant based on whatever was recorded in this ledger.”

“Possibly. But it doesn’t explain why Clyde would risk breaking into Soffit and Dickson to steal it. He wasn’t related to the accountant. And all this happened thirty years ago.”

“So the files must contain something else important. Something still relevant today.”

“What’s in your file?” Philip asked her.

She fanned through the papers and quickly read the headings. “A pile of legalese stuff. The court papers—filings, motions, the original charges. What do you have, Ted?”

Ted looked thoughtful. “There’s just one paper in this file. It’s a memo from a Hidalgo vice president asking about some top-secret out-of-state shipment.”

“That’s not unusual,” Philip pointed out. “Half the stuff Hidalgo Industries manufactures is top-secret military technology. And they ship to bases all over the country.”

“True. But I’m thinking something must have gone wrong with this shipment because there’s also a P.S. on this memo. It says ‘Urgent. Terminate book immed.’”

“Hmm. Maybe the accountant thought this was proof of the real culprit, the one who faked the books.”

“Who wrote it?” Luce asked.

Ted glanced up at the memo header. “Well, well. Your friend Donald Hidalgo. He must have been VP while his father was still alive.”

Luce stared at him. “Donald Hidalgo?” As in her probable newfound uncle?

“I’ll admit, lately he’d risen to the top of my list of suspects for Maria’s death.”

Luce was floored. “Why?”

“Because he had the most to gain. He ended up with both their shares in the company. Enough for a majority on the board. It was Peter I couldn’t figure out. And now Clyde.”

Nobody had to say why he’d be after Luce. If she was a long-lost heir…

Philip’s expression went deadly. “Well, how’s this for another coincidence…guess who owns a cabin that shares the airstrip where we found Clyde yesterday?”

“Donald Hidalgo?” she asked, more and more dismayed over where this was leading.

“The family summer house.”

Ted’s forehead pleated. “Oh, my God. How could I have missed it? That’s the cabin where—” He halted abruptly and snapped his gaze to Luce.

She put a hand over her mouth to prevent the sound of anguish that clawed at her throat. He didn’t have to finish the sentence. It was obvious.

That was the cabin where her father had been shot and killed.

Donald Hidalgo. Philip met Ted’s gaze and knew exactly what Ted was thinking. Hidalgo Industries was at the heart of all the crimes they’d been investigating, and Donald Hidalgo was at the heart of Hidalgo Industries.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Luce said, her voice a thready whisper. “He’s the one responsible for everything. For the missing chip shipment, the cache of stolen military hardware, for Clyde’s murder and for my parents’…”

“Sweetheart, we don’t know that,” he interrupted before she could say out loud what they were all thinking. “It’s just conjecture at this point. Maria was his own sister, for crying out loud. He’d have to be a monster.”

“Can you get a search warrant?” she asked. “For the cabin?”

He swiped a hand over his mouth and glanced at Ted, who looked grim. “I don’t see how. There’s no hard evidence linking him to any of this.”

“What about the memo?”

“It’s thirty years old,” he explained in frustration. “The statute of limitations has run out on any embezzling or theft it concerned. To be admissible it would have to prove a murder.”

Suddenly a thought struck him like thunder. And apparently the others, as well, because all at once, all three lunged for the file folder Luce had dropped onto the floor beside her rocker.

“Peter Santander was a bookkeeper at Hidalgo, right? What’s the accountant’s name?” Ted asked when Luce got to it first.

“It’s not Peter Santander,” she said, voice still quavering. “I would have noticed.” She scanned over the papers. “No, they all say the defendant’s name is…Jerome Gardner.” She passed a few sheets to Ted.

Philip frowned, plucking up the other files. There was something niggling his mind about the ledger pages. And the memo in Ted’s file. “Maybe he worked under Gardner.”

“Yes! Here!” she exclaimed, reading one of the legal papers from her file more carefully. “It’s a statement, in some kind of a motion. It starts out, ‘According to a statement by bookkeeper Peter Santander, who was the person who discovered the discrepancies between shipments sent and shipments received—’” She looked up, eyes filled with pain. “I can’t believe it. This is why they were killed, isn’t it? It wasn’t over Maria’s affair at all. It was about the military thefts and…Donald Hidalgo’s greed.”

And that easily, the puzzle pieces fell into place. Philip swore, gaping at the memo from Ted’s file. There it was, plain as day. All the evidence they needed.

P.S. Urgent. Terminate book immed.

“This P.S. doesn’t mean post script,” he said hoarsely, holding up the half sheet of paper. “And it doesn’t refer to a financial ledger. This is a contract to terminate the bookkeeper, P.S.—Peter Santander.”

It didn’t take long to arrange for a warrant to search the Hidalgo cabin. Rather than sit around waiting for it to arrive, Philip and Ted decided to drive up to the cabin and meet the messenger there.

Naturally Luce insisted on going. Short of locking her in the holding cell at the back of the station, there was nothing he could do to stop her. She would have hitchhiked if she’d had to, so he grudgingly relented.

They took Ted’s cruiser. Philip was too wound up to drive. When they arrived, he knew better than to ask Luce to stay in the car.

“Just, please, be careful,” he said, his gaze dipping involuntarily to her belly. “If you feel faint, sit down.”

Her mouth parted slightly, then her hand went to the same spot. “I will,” she said.

“That’s my girl.”

They all drew their weapons and crept the last dozen yards to the edge of the trees surrounding the log cabin. Well, log cabin was a slight understatement. The place was massive. Two rambling stories and probably a basement. Detached two-car garage. He stopped assessing the impressive architecture to search for signs of life.

Everything seemed quiet.

Ted motioned them to fan out, him to the left, Luce to the right. Ted was going to knock on the front door. They all mounted the wraparound porch and took up their positions. Ted knocked. No one answered. He knocked again. Still nothing. Luce indicated she was going around to the back.

“No!” Philip mouthed, gesturing frantically for her to stay put. He watched as she disappeared around the corner, and swore under his breath. That woman would be the death of him yet.

Ted grinned and tried the front doorknob. It turned easily, and the heavy wooden door swung open on silent hinges. Ted gave him a well-if-you-insist shrug and cautiously slunk inside, weapon first.

Damn it, Ted!

Again Philip cursed, torn between charging after Luce and covering his friend’s backside. His friend won, but only because he knew the inside of a structure was far more dangerous to clear than the perimeter. If anyone was hiding here, chances were it was inside the house.

Gripping his Beretta with two hands, he ducked in after Ted. Moving carefully in tandem, it took them under five minutes to thoroughly check the whole cabin. They found no one.

They did, however, find an office. It was in total disarray, things scattered everywhere, like someone had been searching for something.

“Let’s see if they left anything interesting,” Ted suggested.

“What about the warrant?”

“It’ll be here any minute. Let’s get this bastard,” Ted said in deceptively soft tones. “I don’t like being made a fool of for twenty-eight years.”

“If he’s the one who tried to hurt Luce…” Philip didn’t complete the thought, he was too angry. He didn’t have to.

“I know, buddy. Let’s nail him. For good.”

Luce slid along the cabin wall to the back of the house, ducking at the windows and scanning the yard for movement. Everything seemed deserted.

But her inner radar was raising hairs on the back of her neck. There was something… She just had to pin down what was triggering her instincts.

There! A dull thud. Barely discernible above the sounds of the birds and insects and the creaking and crackling of pine bark and needles in the afternoon sun. She stood still and listened for several minutes before she heard it again. But there it was. Another soft thud.

She scanned the edge of the forest behind the cabin, searching for a possible source.

The noises seemed to be coming from behind the detached garage.

Okay, she’d try there first.

She had the fleeting thought to wait for Philip, but dismissed it. She was used to working without backup, and she wasn’t afraid. Hell, she’d faced down giant hulks with tattoos and gold teeth. This guy, if it was Donald Hidalgo, was a prissy old man.

Besides, the weight of the Walther was balanced perfectly in her hand. Nobody with a brain went up against a gun.

She flicked up the snap on the boot knife she’d worn for the occasion, checked the handcuffs tucked in her waistband, then noiselessly padded down the back porch steps and sprinted for the garage. Without giving herself a moment to stop and think, she rounded the corner and peeked behind the building for the source of the noise.

And saw him. Donald Hidalgo. Pulling stones off a low, tumbledown garden wall.

Anger surged through her and she had to take several deep breaths before she could even see straight. As she stood there grabbing for control, he picked up another large stone and set it carefully into a pile off to the side. What the hell was he doing?

Her question was answered when he took a pistol from his coat pocket, wiped it down and stuck it into a crevice in the wall.

The gun that killed Clyde…and her father.

Pain razored through her as he picked up a stone from the pile and placed it on top of the pistol’s hiding place. She battled with herself, torn between blasting the bastard where he stood, and letting him pile a few more rocks on top of the weapon before she jumped him, beat him to a pulp and then blasted him with the Walther.

Too bad she was shaking so badly she’d probably miss.

She took one last cleansing breath while he piled on two more stones. Then stepped from her hiding place and aimed the Walther at his black heart.

“Give me a reason, you bastard,” she growled.

He looked up, shock twisting on his face, which turned to horror when he saw who she was.

“You! It can’t be! Clyde killed you twenty-eight years ago!”

“What?” Did he think she was Maria? Clyde had killed her mother? Stunned, she faltered, the gun dipping precariously.

He took off.

She shook herself mentally and hauled off after him. He darted around the garage and she followed, only to stop dead when she ran smack into the barrel of a small pistol.

“Put down your gun,” he snapped, his highbrow accent making the words sound deceptively elegant.

“Go to hell,” she barked back, dropped and did a body tackle at his knees.

They rolled onto the dirt. She struggled to get to his pistol while hanging on to hers.

“You bastard! You killed my father!” she hissed, whacking his wrist as hard as she could with the butt of the Walther.

He shouted in pain, along with a string of Spanish invective she didn’t need translated. The gun flew from his hand.

“Father? Tafota should have killed you like I paid him to! Like he did your whore of a mother!” He flailed out, hitting her shoulder hard as they tumbled over again.

She grunted. “She was your sister!”

“She was no sister of mine after she married that upstart chingada bookkeeper! He ruined everything!” Hidalgo smashed her in the jaw with his fist and tried to thrash away from her.

Pain bloomed in her head like a psychedelic light show. She backhanded his face as hard as she could, then pushed the barrel of the Walther into his forehead. He lifted a hand. She narrowed her eyes and pushed harder. “Move and I’ll take your head off.”

He stared at her, pure hatred in his eyes. “You don’t have the guts, little orphan girl.”

She gasped, momentarily paralyzed. She knew that was the reaction he’d counted on, to escape, but she couldn’t stop the emotions from flooding through her.

“She might not,” a deep, masculine voice said from above, “but I do.”

Philip!

She looked up and felt a shiver go down the length of her spine. Philip had his gun trained on Hidalgo’s head, a deadly expression on his face. One that said he’d do whatever it took to protect her.

Faced with death from two directions, Hidalgo wilted. In seconds he was in handcuffs and Ted was dragging him to his feet and off to a waiting cruiser.

Luce’s strength evaporated with the end of her adrenaline rush, and she rolled onto her back, unable to rise. She gazed up at Philip.

“I just want to point out,” she said shakily, relief swirling in the pit of her stomach, along with unremitting joy at seeing him standing there like a giant redwood towering above her, “that I could have handled it.”

“I know,” he said, and she could see a spark of amusement behind the grim determination in his eyes as he sat down beside her in the dirt. “Just thought I’d lend a hand.”

“Okay.” She watched his handsome, worry-etched face as he stretched out on the ground next to her. “Thanks. I…guess I did let him get to me, a little. At the end.”

Philip laid his temple close to hers and took her hand. “For a second, maybe. But you’d have been okay.”

“Yeah.” She closed her eyes and felt his nearness sweep over her like a warm quilt. His strong, warm body, his reassuring scent. Her chest squeezed. “But it was nice of you to come to my rescue, anyway,” she whispered. “My hero.”

“Anytime,” he said, and she knew he meant it. She was safe now.

Unbidden tears crested her lashes. “He knew who I was.”

“Yeah.”

“He killed my father.”

Philip’s hand tightened around hers. “Yeah.”

She shuddered out a sigh. “He paid Clyde to kill my mother and me.”

“I heard. That’s when I came around the corner.” She gave him a look of surprise that he’d been there the whole time. He explained, “I wanted to hear what he’d confess to.” Her mouth dropped and he lifted a shoulder. “I knew you could handle it.”

“Wow.”

“But I have to admit, I lost it when he punched you. Good thing you were all tangled up, or he’d be a dead man right now.”

He gathered her in his arms, and she gave herself up to his kiss. It felt so good, so right. She clung to him, almost desperately. She didn’t want to think about the past or the future. Only now. Here with him.

A cough sounded behind them. “Do you two never quit?” Ted muttered. “Do us all a favor and drive to Vegas.” He shook his head and walked over to the ruined stone wall. “This where Hidalgo hid the gun?” he asked.

Philip gave her one last quick kiss, then helped her up.

“Yeah. It’s right under there.” She pointed to the exact spot, and Ted lifted the few stones concealing the weapon, calling the forensics team over to finish the job.

“That should put him away for the rest of his life,” Philip said with satisfaction as the gun was carefully bagged, tagged and taken away.

“I’ll need a statement from both of you,” Ted said. “Can you come down to the sheriff’s office?”

Ted accompanied the prisoner in another car, so they drove Ted’s cruiser down to Taos. It had been a long day, but it wasn’t over yet.

She and Philip gave detailed statements, after which she begged to watch Donald Hidalgo’s interrogation through the one-way mirror. Her stomach turned over and over at the unfeeling, matter-of-fact way Hidalgo described his crimes against his country, his company, his employees and even his own flesh and blood. The only exemption was his daughter, Anna, whom he truly seemed to love.

It all boiled down to greed. When his father had taken the company public, young Donald resented the cut in profits and lifestyle, and had slowly started pilfering from shipments and selling on the black market. When Peter Santander noticed the discrepancies, he’d told Jerome Gardner, who reported it to Donald, who’d then turned the tables and accused him of embezzling. The man’s brakes had failed a few days after his lawsuit was filed, killing him and forcing Peter to confront his brother-in-law. Donald shot him in a rage, then hired the company’s young, hotheaded airplane mechanic to finish off his sister, whom Peter had confided in, and their child. But Clyde hadn’t been able to kill the little girl, and had instead driven her to St. Louis where a friend lived, and they’d dumped her in a church.

All through Donald Hidalgo’s confession, Philip stood with his arms around Luce, supporting her when she was certain her legs and her heart couldn’t take another word. He cut a swath through the herd of reporters in the parking lot, who loudly demanded her side of the bizarre breaking story. He poured her into a hot bath with a glass of warm milk and, finally, tucked her into his bed.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked when he gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“You sleep. I’ll be in after a while,” he said. “I have to take care of a few things first.”

She nodded and let her eyes drift shut. Pretending to sleep. So he’d close the door and leave her alone. Because she badly needed to think.

A million different thoughts assailed her as he quietly slipped out of the room. She felt pummeled and exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Now was not the time to be making life-altering decisions.

But she had no choice.

What was she going to do now? About the Hidalgos and Santanders? About her adopted parents? About her job and her life?

About Philip?

And about their baby…?

Chapter 17

Philip stared at the phone on his desk for a long time before picking up the receiver. It wasn’t his place to make this call. But he was afraid, so afraid, of what would happen if he didn’t. And yet he was more afraid of what would happen if he did.

Either way he lost.

So he had to think about what would be best for Luce. And whether or not she realized it, making the call would be the best thing for her.

Secrets ruined lives. That had already been proven. But ignoring the consequences when those secrets were revealed was nearly as bad.

Ted said the Santanders had called four times, wanting to get in touch with their lost baby, Constanza. Constanza Jean Luz Hidalgo Santander, to be exact. The little girl who’d been the light of their lives.

He spoke briefly with the overjoyed old woman who answered the phone, arranging for a meeting tomorrow at the Santander family home.

He hung up, feeling slightly guilty but much better. Now he could sleep. He hoped.

Luce was out like a light already, so he slid quietly into bed and spooned up against her back, tucked her under his arm and closed his eyes.

But sleep eluded him as he thought about all that could happen tomorrow. The bad guy was behind bars, all the crimes were solved. However, things between him and Luce were anything but settled.

What would she do when he told her he’d taken the decision out of her hands about whether to meet her birth father’s family?

What would she do if he got down on his knees and begged her to stay with him in Piñon Lake?

What if she was pregnant?

What if she wasn’t?

Eventually exhaustion overtook him and he fell into a fitful sleep, no closer to any of the answers.

Deep in the night he reached for her and they made love. Sleepy and intense, neither totally awake, but both hungry for the touch of each other. Both needing to be joined as one. Neither voicing the worst fear stumbling through Philip’s head the whole time, that this might be the last time they’d ever make love together.

He tried to ignore that thought, did his best to ignore it, but it clung to him tenaciously, like the last dredges of a terrible nightmare. Or the first tingling warning of a bad one on the way.

He started awake the next morning, sitting straight up in bed in the bright sunshine pouring through the window.

“Something wrong?” Luce asked, all soft-eyed and rumpled and looking like everything he’d ever wanted in life.

“What time is it?” He checked the clock. “Damn. We’re late.”

“For what?” She sat up and yawned.

“You’ll see. We have less than three hours to get there. We better get a move on.”

“Three hours? Where?”

He needed her dressed, fed and in the Jeep. They could argue about his decision later. “Santa Fe,” he said, and mumbled something about legal formalities on his way to the bathroom.

She wandered in just as the shower water was getting hot. He got in and she joined him a minute later.

“Hi,” she said, and leaned against him under the warm spray, putting her arms around his waist.

“Hi, yourself.” He laid his cheek against her temple. “I wish we had more time this morning.”

“Better to conserve water,” she said, and smiled up at him. But her smile wasn’t all there. The part around her eyes was missing.

His heart died a small death. Damn, was all he could think.

“Philip.”

He wasn’t going to listen to this. There was no way he’d listen to this. Not now. Not here.

He put a finger to her lips. “Don’t say anything,” he told her. “Not yet.”

“But—”

“Please.”

Not that waiting would do him any favors. Who knew what she’d think of him after her coming ordeal. But that was the whole point of waiting, wasn’t it?

Reluctantly she agreed. They showered and he made breakfast, then they got in the Jeep and headed for Santa Fe.

“So where are we going?” she asked once more as they drove.

“Like I said, just clearing up some formalities.”

“What kind of formalities?”

“You should call your mom again,” he said, deliberately changing the subject. He handed her his cell phone. She’d talked to her mom last night but had been too upset and exhausted to go into details. “I’m sure she’s worried about you.”

Anything to get her mind off where they were headed. Besides, it would be good for her to go into the coming meeting with the solid security of her mom’s love surrounding her. Luckily Luce didn’t catch on, or else for once decided not to challenge him.

She made no attempt to hide her conversation, even when, after going through everything that had happened yesterday twice, her mom obviously asked about him.

“Yeah. Handsome as ever,” she said, and turned to look at him. “My hero. He saved my life.” He frowned and shook a finger at her. “Yeah, Mom. I know… I will.” She tilted her head consideringly, then said, “He may also have gotten me pregnant.” Philip almost drove off the road as Luce held the phone away from her ear for a few seconds, then returned it. “Not sure…. I don’t know…. Not yet…. I don’t know,” she responded to her mother’s rapid-fire questions. Then, “Listen Mom, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later, okay? I love you,” she said, then hung up.

He took the phone when she handed it to him. “Was that completely necessary?” he asked, feeling equal parts proud, virile man and embarrassed, guilty teenager. “We don’t even know for sure yet.”

“I always tell my mom everything.”

“Everything?”

She gave him a sardonic smile. “Worried about your reputation?”

“No, more like my hide. How many shotguns did you say your dad owned?”

She grinned. “Almost as many as I do.”

It was good to see her laugh. And he wasn’t remotely worried about her dad and his shotguns. Perhaps the two of them could even talk some sense into his stubborn daughter.

He leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t forget,” he said with a wink. “I have a shotgun or two, myself.”

The bravado visibly whooshed out of her. She bit her lip. “Philip—”

But luckily they’d arrived at their destination. “Hold that thought,” he cut her off. “We’re here.”

“Here” was a sprawling adobe home on the outskirts of Santa Fe. Charmingly old-fashioned, it was surrounded by a high, brown adobe wall covered in rambling yellow roses and punctuated by a black wrought-iron gate that had been left open. Philip drove through and parked the Jeep in front of the Spanish-style home.

Immediately the ornately carved, wooden front door began to open. Slowly, a few inches at a time, as though the door were very heavy, or the opener not very strong, it swung wide. And revealed a tiny, white-haired old lady.

“I thought we were going to the police station,” Luce said with a frown. “Where are we? And who is that woman?”

“That,” Philip said, bracing himself, “is Alice Santander, your grandmother.”

Philip’s words went through Luce like a landmine exploding under her. Instantly her eyes swam and her hand flew to her mouth. A panicked cry escaped her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you going through hell on the way down,” he said, and got out to open her door. To help her out, if necessary. “You would have overthought the situation if I’d told you. Yell at me later. Right now I want you to meet a sweet old lady, whose twenty-eight years worth of prayers were answered yesterday.”

“I can’t,” she croaked, terrified to the bone, dashing at a tear that leaked out. “I need time to—”

“Bull,” he said. “You need a hug from your grandma.”

Oh, God. “I’ll kill you for this,” she whispered.

“Later.”

She managed to find her feet. In front of the house the old woman spread her arms, beckoning.

A painful, wrenching sob found its way to Luce’s throat. She couldn’t stop it from bursting out. A stinging wetness filled her eyes, blinding her, but suddenly she was running. Somehow she found the open arms and sank to her knees, hugging her grandmother close. She didn’t recognize the face, but instantly she recognized the dear, sweet smell of her—roses and flour tortillas.

“Luz, my baby girl,” the old woman sighed in a joyful, thready voice. “La Luz de mis días. Light of my life.”

Luce swallowed over and over, all her fears evaporating like mist in the shining rays of the sun, enfolded in her grandmother’s quavering embrace. Silly fears. Fears of not being believed. Not being accepted. Not being wanted.

“I love you, Gramma,” she said between swallows, the unfamiliar word breaking loose from somewhere deep within her heart.

“I love you, too, my dearest,” the old woman answered. “Come. Come inside. Meet your family.” Her grandmother took her hands and motioned her to her feet. “You, too, young man,” she said to Philip, who had hung back. She put one arm around Luce and one around Philip when he hesitantly joined them in the entryway.

“I’m not sure—” he began.

“Nonsense,” Gramma Santander said firmly and led them both inside the house. “You gave me back my granddaughter. You are one of the family now.”

They walked into a grand entry hall, dim and cool, its dark, carved furnishings echoing a long-ago era. Several large family portraits hung on the walls between the doors, the subjects looking proud, serious and formal, as if they carried the weight of generations to come.

Except for one.

He looked like—

Luce gasped, and ran to the portrait.

“Santa!” she cried, the world tilting around her. With his white hair, bushy white beard, jolly eyes and kind smile, the man looked exactly like— “Santa! My God, it’s— Oh!” Realization crashed down on her and she spun to her grandmother. “Is he…?”

Eyes glowing wetly, the old woman nodded. “He was my husband, your grandfather. You used to call him ‘Grandfather Santa’ because you had another grandfather, on your mother’s side.”

Luce put her fist to her mouth and gave up trying to stem the tide of tears.

Finally, she’d found her real Santa.

Her gramma came to her and they stood together for a long moment, hugging and crying and gazing up at the portrait.

“Hey, what’s going on? Where’s that cousin of mine?” came an indignant feminine voice from just inside one of the doors off the hall. It was followed by a curvy young redhead with sparks flying from every pore. “There you are! Well, I never. Gramma, have you made her cry already? Come here, darling!”

The redhead grinned, spread her arms and launched herself at Luce. “I’m your cousin Lettie. Well, second cousin, really—”

But Luce didn’t catch the rest because suddenly the hall was filled with people of all sizes and descriptions, all descending on her. Hugging her and pumping her hand and saying how wonderful it was that she was finally home.

Home.

She laughed and cried and met everyone and tried to answer their thousands of questions as best she could, but the whole time all she could think was…

At long last, she was home. Really, really home.

Over all the heads of her new family, Philip towered, shaking hands and introducing himself, retelling the story over and over of how he had brought her back to them. Of course, she was sure he didn’t phrase it that way or take any of the credit. Even though she knew the truth. She was only here because of him.

There was no way on earth she could ever repay him for what he’d done for her. For making her face her demons and see the truth behind her restlessness. For pushing her to have the courage to meet this precious family who had accepted her so lovingly.

She would always love her mom and dad, the Montgomerys, and they would always be her true parents. But now she’d found the Santanders, too. Two families. What could be better than that?

She met Philip’s eyes across the room, and he gave her a wink. She smiled at him through the haze of her drying tears, and suddenly she knew. She just knew.

She had truly found what she’d been searching for.

There was no bottom to the depth of her feelings for this wonderful man who had saved her. She loved him more than anything on earth. She loved him, and she wanted him.

Forever.

Philip, her handsome, sexy, soft-spoken lawman, he was the real family she’d found. What she’d been seeking all along.

“I love you,” she mouthed over the heads.

She could see the surprise and disbelief in his eyes, then when he saw she truly meant it, his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I love you, too,” he mouthed back. And started for her. Through the throng of laughing, chatting Santanders he advanced slowly but surely.

She bit her lip, her eyes filling all over again.

Oh, God. He was coming for her.

As he wrestled through the last remaining people separating them, he held out his hand for her. She took it and pulled herself into his reaching arms.

“Oh, Philip,” she whispered, and his lips came down on hers. “I’m so happy.”

“Marry me,” he said, kissing her over and over. “Marry me, Constanza Jean Luz Hidalgo Santander Montgomery. I love you so much. Marry me and have my children.”

The whole family erupted in cheers of surprise, clapping and jumping up and down, calling loudly for her answer.

She kissed him back, laughing and crying with joy. “Yes! Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you, Philip O’Donnaugh. I love you, too, forever and ever.”

And as they were carried around the house on a tide of cheerful arms, glasses were fetched and corks popped, and she knew she’d never, ever been so happy.

Thanks to Philip, his breathless passion and his steadfast, undaunted love, she had well and truly reached the other side of the mountain.

And as far as the eye could see, it was all good.

Epilogue

Two Years Later

Luce O’Donnaugh lifted a beautiful handblown glass pitcher of homemade eggnog from the counter and poured its contents into matching green and red handblown glasses. Filled with the delicious scents of turkeys roasting, pies baking and corn roasting, along with the sounds of pans clanging, silverware clinking and mixers buzzing, Gramma Santander’s kitchen was humming with activity.

“Hey, Luce, hurry up with that eggnog!” someone shouted from the packed living room. “We need refills in here!”

The annual family Christmas party was in full swing, and the whole clan was in attendance, loud and boisterous and demanding as usual. But Luce loved every one of them and wouldn’t trade them for the world.

“Keep your pants on!” she shouted back. “I’m coming!” She finished pouring, and loaded the glasses on a tray, shooting a glance at the dark-haired toddler weaving between the legs of the women as they cooked and prepared. He was hanging on to skirts, accepting kisses and pats on the head and stealing any cookie or other morsel that happened to fall within reach.

“You going to behave yourself, sport?” she called to him.

His big blue eyes looked up at her and widened innocently. He was so cute, that look never failed to melt her heart completely. He nodded, stuffing a wreath-shaped cookie in his mouth.

“Mamama,” he said around it, finishing the job on her heart. He tipped precariously with the effort of standing, eating and talking at the same time. A hand reached out to steady him and he toddled off, oblivious to the near spill, no doubt in search of more goodies to plunder.

She exchanged a motherly grin with Lettie, the rescuer. “You go,” Lettie said. “We’ll make sure Petey doesn’t get into trouble.”

“Right.” That would be the day. Even at the tender age of fifteen months, Petey was the terror of the Santanders. A real chip off the old block, everyone said. Luce just couldn’t understand why everyone winked at Philip when they said it.

Grabbing the tray of eggnog, she hurried to the living room.

Christmas music was playing festively and like the rest of the house the living room was decorated to within an inch of its life with holly and juniper boughs and mistletoe. And of course Santas. Everywhere the laughing face of the big man in red smiled back at Luce.

“There you are!” one of her many new cousins shouted over the racket, helping her with the full glasses, which disappeared within seconds. But not before she managed to snag the last one for herself.

“Hey, no fair!” Anna Hidalgo declared, frowning at the empty tray.

Luce handed her the tray with a flourish. “Your turn,” she said with a grin.

Anna rolled her eyes good-naturedly and headed for the kitchen. “Sheesh,” she said. “Next year I’m hiring waiters.”

“Good idea!” Luce called after her.

She was happy Anna was fitting in so well here. After her father had been found guilty of three counts of murder and sent to prison with a lifetime sentence, she’d had a rough time of it. At Philip’s urging, Luce had reached out to her, adopting his philosophy of letting the past go and concentrating on the future. The board of directors at Hidalgo Industries had been more than surprised when Luce had signed over all her shares to Anna after the estate settlement, in effect forcing them to keep her on as CEO in Donald’s place. Luce had no desire to take what Anna had spent her life earning. She had more than enough success with her new P.I. business. Besides, she’d rather have her family. It had taken a while, but Anna had come around. Despite the difficulties, they’d become good friends. Once that happened, the rest of the Hidalgo family had also accepted her with open arms.

Taking a sip of her drink, she looked around the crowded room. Where was that husband of hers?

She wandered among the drifts of people chatting and munching on Christmas snacks, stopping to catch up with some of the folks she hadn’t seen since last year’s party.

“Darling! There you are!” Daphne Montgomery said, slipping an arm around her. “Your son is wreaking havoc in the kitchen,” she informed her with a smirk.

Luce sighed wryly. “It’s all Betsy’s fault. She lets him run wild through the Slipper when she baby-sits. He thinks he owns every kitchen on the planet.”

“Well,” her mother said straight-faced, “if you’re lucky he might learn to cook. Someone in the family should, you know.”

Luce made a face at her. “Philip and I are working on it. Together.”

“Sort of an encounter thing, eh?”

“Mom, this is New Mexico, not California.” Her mother was still getting used to the ways of the West. Quite a difference from St. Louis. But Daphne was flourishing ever since since she and Luce’s dad had moved to a small adobe house outside of Taos. She’d even taken up weaving. Her dad, of course, loved the hunting. And he and Philip regularly took Petey out fishing.

“I imagine you’re finding all sorts of ingenious ways to use whipped cream in your cooking encounters,” Daphne suggested blandly. Her mom was so bad.

“Mom!”

“Did I hear something about whipped cream?” her dad asked, coming up and giving each of them a kiss on the cheek.

Luce groaned and bussed him back, then slipped away while Daphne had his attention. Definitely too much information.

She looked around again for Philip, who was nowhere to be found. Maybe he’d gone outside. Setting down her glass, she strolled over to the French doors overlooking the courtyard patio and checked there. It was deserted except for Ted and Betsy, who were sitting on a bench together holding hands. There would be wedding bells for those two soon, Luce thought with satisfaction. About time. Ten years was way too long to beat around the bush.

Craving the touch of her own husband, she made her way to the door leading to the far end of the long front foyer. Maybe he was out there. Sometimes the large gatherings got as overwhelming for him as they did for her. She peeked around the corner. And her heart swelled at what she saw.

In the middle of the foyer was Philip, dressed in a red plush suit with a pillow under his belt and a toddler perched on his shoulders. Love for the two flooded through her whole being.

Philip stood in front of the portrait of Grandpa Santa, holding Petey’s hands as he straddled his broad shoulders, talking softly to his son as they both looked up at the painting. Father and son looked so much alike her breath caught.

She stepped quietly out into the foyer, watching them as her heart slowly filled to overflowing.

Her men.

She must have made a sound, because as one, they turned to her, faces smiling, eyes sparkling with the light of love.

Tears crested her lashes at the sight.

Her family.

Petey let go and reached out for her, his little arms waving as they eluded Philip’s grasp. “Mamamama!” he shouted.

Philip swung him down onto one well-padded hip, opening the other arm to her as she went to him. She rushed into her husband’s loving embrace, hugging him with one arm and their baby boy with the other.

“I was looking everywhere. I thought I’d never find you.” She sighed, breathing in the enchanting blend of aftershave and baby powder that spiced the air around them. She’d never smelled anything more wonderful.

“I’m right here,” he assured her with a kiss. “I’ll always be right here.”

“I know,” she said, smiling up at him. And she did. He’d always be there for her and Petey, and their other children as the years went by. Of that, she had no doubt. He was her hero, her friend, her lover, her husband. “And I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

ISBN: 978-1-4268-7114-6

BLUE JEANS AND A BADGE

Copyright © 2005 by Nina Bruhns

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