The Secretary Gets Her Man. Mindy Neff
you as a professional jock or corporate shark or something.”
“I tried my hand at being an attorney and hated it. My heart’s always been on the ranch.”
“That uniform shirt and badge puts me more in mind of a police officer than a cowboy—though the hat and boots beg a question.”
He grinned and tipped his hat. “Police chief of Darby at your service. The mayor talked me into it. I divide my time between the ranch and town.”
“Busy man.”
“Makes me happy. You look really good, Pen.”
Penny resisted the urge to fuss with her hair and clothes. She did, however, stand a little taller. His gaze touched on her breasts, caressed everywhere they traveled.
Her gray T-shirt was snug, tucked into black jeans. She prided herself on being in shape, lifted weights and jogged to stay that way. Working in an environment with a bunch of men—highly trained agents—Penny felt the need to keep up, to maintain a lean, honed, healthy body. Now it was second nature to her. She liked looking good, knowing that even if she was wearing sensible, no-nonsense clothes, the body beneath was trim and toned and in good working order.
And seeing the appreciation in Joe Colter’s eyes made her glad that she kept up.
“You’re looking pretty good yourself, Colter.” She moved past him and went into the kitchen. “You on duty or would you like to stay for a cup of coffee?” Bad move, Archer. But hospitality was ingrained in her.
“Actually, I’m off. One of the men was out sick so I worked a double shift and was on my way home when I saw your black Caddie pull into Agnes’s driveway. I didn’t know it was you.”
“And now you do.”
“And very glad of it.”
His tone of voice made her shiver. She was not going to succumb to Joe Colter’s charm. Giving the contents of the fridge a quick perusal, she said, “There’s a can of decaf in here. Yes or no?”
“Sounds good.” He hooked a boot around the rung of the kitchen chair, pulled it away from the table and sat.
Penny tried not to notice the breadth of his shoulders, or the way his presence filled the room. She tried not to remember how he’d looked sixteen years ago, sitting at this same kitchen table, algebra and English books spread in front of him, his dark brows endearingly drawn together in a frown of concentration. Back then, he’d still been big and masculine, but youth, she noticed, had given way nicely to maturity. Now, his presence felt totally different, dangerous somehow.
She was being ridiculous. She’d been living on a ranch with men for years, worked with men. Granted, recently there had been changes at the Smoking Barrel. Four of the agents had traded in their bachelorhood for happy marriage and family.
Maybe that’s what was wrong with her. All the changes were setting her off balance, goosing her own biological clock.
But just because Joe Colter sat in her grandmother’s kitchen oozing more sex appeal than was fair, was no reason for her to turn into a stammering, awkward girl. She was a much different woman than the one who’d left here sixteen years ago.
And she didn’t intend to stay.
“You said you were on your way home, yet isn’t this place a little out of the way? As I recall your ranch is the other direction.” She filled the carafe with water and scooped coffee into the basket.
“The neighbors reported seeing a strange car outside a few days back. I’ve made it a point to cruise by since then.”
“Wasn’t me. I just got in.”
“I know. I pretty much have my finger on the pulse of the town.”
“Mmm, and that would be why you tackled me like a linebacker sacking the quarterback?”
He chuckled. “I didn’t say my information was always accurate. I apologize for jumping you, but when a stranger crouches in a shooting stance, it’s a natural reaction.”
“I guess I’m lucky you didn’t shoot first and ask questions later?”
“No, you’re lucky I was the one who came to check rather than the Truman sisters. They would have shot first and questioned later.”
Penny laughed. Though both women had been married—several times each—they were still known as the Truman sisters. Georgia was a retired telephone operator who knew the dirt on everyone in town, and Wanetta ran a dress shop in town that specialized in hats. As a child, Penny had wished the sisters could have adopted her. “Do they still live across the street?”
“Still. And believe me, your grandmother held you up to them like you were the President’s guard. You’ve become their hero, and it can get a little scary.”
Penny turned, feeling her heart soften. “Grandma talked about me?”
“She was proud.”
“Why didn’t she ever tell me? Why did she shut me down every time I called and wanted to visit?” She asked the question aloud, even knowing Joe wouldn’t have the answer.
“I didn’t know you’d been interested in coming home.”
Snapping out of her inward thoughts, she looked at him. Censure colored his tone even though his features gave nothing away.
“You thought I’d just turned my back on her or something?”
He shrugged. “Seemed that way.”
“As a lawman, you should know better than to assume. You ought to check your facts, Colter.” Annoyed, she tapped her foot, staring at the coffeepot, wishing it would hurry up and drip. She was beginning to regret inviting Joe to stay.
“I don’t imagine you’re an easy woman to check facts on,” he said reasonably. “And I didn’t think I had the right.”
She could have kicked herself. Her testiness made it seem like she cared what he thought of her, made it seem like she would have expected him to know her, to wonder about her, to keep up with her.
Those were her own fantasies. Not his.
The coffeepot wheezed and finally started pumping.
“So how long will you stay?”
She shrugged. “Long enough to get the house cleaned out and up for sale.”
“A few weeks, then?”
“Yes, maybe a bit longer.” Unless she ended up making a fool out of herself over Joe Colter.
“Need any help unloading your car?”
She shook her head, looked at him. “I can get it later.”
“It’s obvious you can.” He pointedly glanced at the well-defined muscles in her arms. “Would you like the help?”
She swallowed hard at the look of appreciation shining out of his sexy eyes. “Ah, chivalry. Goes along with the protecting and serving, hmm?”
“You’re nervous.”
She nearly dropped the cup she’d been reaching for. Glancing over her shoulder, she did her best to appear bewildered by his observation. “Excuse me?”
“I’m making you nervous.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” he asked softly.
So softly, her hands trembled. She wouldn’t melt, she told herself. She wouldn’t fall into the depths of those intoxicating hazel eyes. “Yes. I’ve just driven over six hours. I’m punchy. Not nervous.” Rather than waiting patiently for the coffee to brew, she took advantage of the pause feature and set her cup right under the drip mechanism.
“Whatever you say. You know you’ll get a damn strong