The Lawman's Last Stand. Vickie Taylor
one look into her eyes turned his thoughts polar opposite of angels and heaven. Images more congruent with what was sure to be his ultimate fate sprang to mind. She’d made him think of fire and brimstone. A scorching desert sun and a sea of sand.
Sin and sweat and sex.
Even now, her eyes intrigued him. They were blue, like his own, but a shade wilder in color. Indigo, like a pair of jeans not quite broken in.
And mysterious. Those eyes held secrets.
She squirmed on the toilet seat and he realized he’d been staring. Pulling his gaze away, he found his attention captured by her feet instead. Her toes were wiggling, like the rest of her. Bright-pink paint adorned her toenails. He smiled to himself, finding that small vanity endearing. And suiting. Gigi was all movement and bright colors.
At least she had been until tonight. Tonight she was different. Still busy, but with a nervous, restless kind of energy.
“Why are you still in Utah?” she asked.
He glanced up. He’d been asking himself that question for days. The docs had cleared him for duty, and he sure as heck didn’t have anymore leave coming. He’d used that up months ago. “I was planning on leaving in the morning.”
At least he should have been planning on leaving. But the rent on the cabin was paid through the end of the month, and somehow he’d never gotten around to packing. The truth was he liked it here. The mountains were peaceful and frankly, small-town law enforcement was more his speed after what he’d been through the last couple of years than the fast-paced world of drug enforcement. He liked it that people here waved to him on the street and knew his name. And then there was Gigi…
Sometimes he wished he didn’t have to go back at all. But wishes weren’t horses, and sooner or later he had to leave. Most likely sooner. “I just wanted to stay for Eric and Mariah’s party.”
The party to which he would never have accepted the invitation if Mariah hadn’t let it slip that Gigi would be there. He wished the best for Eric and Mariah in their marriage and new life together, but he felt out of place at social events like that—family gatherings. Having grown up in a county youth home after being abandoned as an infant, family was a mystery to him.
Almost as much of a mystery as Gigi McCowan.
He went to the party hoping for a chance to prove that the electricity that had crackled between him and Gigi on the mountain had been a fluke. Nothing more than nerves on edge.
After all, he’d just busted a drug operation and nearly gotten himself killed. He’d been hurt, and high on adrenaline. He’d told himself it wouldn’t be like that when they met again.
But it had been. He’d clinked his wineglass against hers in a toast to Eric and Mariah, they’d locked eyes, and the energy had coursed between them. It had built more slowly—less like a lightning strike and more like a bank of circuits, their breakers thrown on one at a time—but it hadn’t stopped until the power to light a city flowed freely between them.
She had to be the source of the energy. Lord knows, his soul was dead as an old battery.
She recharged him.
Then Eric had called her over, given her something, and she’d left, in a hurry. Left Shane standing there with the burgundy he’d been drinking burning a path to his gullet and all his lusty imaginings about taking her out of there himself, taking her home, ending on a cold gust of wind and a slamming door.
And he didn’t know why.
Unsettled, he dabbed at her forehead with the cotton ball.
“Ow.” She swiped her hand out. “Give me that.”
“Fine. You finish your forehead,” he said, handing her the antiseptic and cotton ball. “I want to see that knee.”
Rebellion charged through her eyes before resignation set in. Slowly she slipped one leg out of the slit in the front of the robe. His irritation dissolved in a wave of masculine appreciation. He cupped one hand behind her calf and slid the other down to her ankle for support. Her leg was slender, firm and smooth to the touch. Very attractive.
He flexed her knee gently, carefully supporting her lower leg. “That hurt?”
She shook her head.
Even more carefully, he leveraged her lower leg sideways. Her stifled gasp stopped him.
“I’m sure it’s just bruised,” she said tightly.
“Uh-huh.” It was more than that, and he knew it. He suspected she’d wrenched it pretty good, but he didn’t press the issue. At least it didn’t seem to be swelling. He set her heel on the floor and rested his palm on her good knee.
She lowered her head. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“I’m sure it will be, too. If you stay off it tonight.”
Before she could protest, he scooped her off of the toilet seat and into his arms. She planted her palms against his chest and pushed. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you stay off that leg.”
He paused in the hallway. A turn to the left, and he could settle her in his big bed, instead of the sleeper sofa he’d made up while she changed. But she was bound to argue. And having her in his bed for the night while he tossed and turned on the sleeper might be more temptation than he was ready for.
He turned to the right, toward the great room. Hell, it was the nineties. She could sleep on the couch.
When he deposited her carefully on the cushions, he didn’t have to turn to know what had gathered her attention over his shoulder. The entire east wall of the great room was glass.
He straightened, following her gaze to the midnight void. “The view is a lot nicer during the day,” he explained self-consciously. Not everyone appreciated sitting on the edge of the world the way he did, especially at night.
She looked down into the dark valley below. “It’s beautiful, even in the dark. It’s like the whole world doesn’t exist. Never existed,” she whispered. “But it’s so…lonely.”
“Yeah, well. I guess growing up in a home with thirty other kids taught me to appreciate solitude.”
She smiled wanly, pale in the near darkness. “I know what you mean.”
“Grow up a ward of the state, too, did you?” He wouldn’t have believed her if she’d said yes. She didn’t have the look about her. She hadn’t always been alone.
“No,” she confirmed. “Boarding schools.”
“Ah, the life of the privileged.”
“Privileged, maybe. But also crowded.”
She surprised him, finding that small common ground between them despite their obviously different backgrounds.
“I like the view better at night, myself,” he admitted.
Her expression brightened as she angled her head up. “Look at all the stars.”
Yeah. Look at the stars, shining in her eyes, Shane thought. And he knew, with as much certainty as he knew his name that he’d make love to her some night, with the starlight glancing off her eyes like that.
But not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to make whatever had put the tension in her body and the raw, disturbing look on her face go away.
He cleared his throat, turning his attention to making her comfortable. He got her a blanket and pillow, then when she was settled, he rubbed his hands together. “How about a fire? It’s chilly in here.”
Soon he had a blaze building. He held his hands up to it, feeling the warmth of the flames on his palms. “How’s that?”
He sat on the edge of the couch, next to her thigh. Firelight danced across her cheeks, giving her fair skin a tone more like ruddy