The Secretary Gets Her Man. Mindy Neff

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The Secretary Gets Her Man - Mindy Neff Mills & Boon American Romance

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didn’t. There were changes here, but there was also familiarity.

      She’d spent hours of her childhood in this room, yet scarcely a day of her adulthood. And that made her sad.

      She looked up and saw Joe leaning against the doorjamb, watching her. He wore jeans and boots, a crisp tan uniform shirt with a badge pinned to his chest pocket and a tan Stetson hat.

      A Texas lawman. Casual. Yet dangerous. He radiated welcome and power. And just the sight of him made her giddy.

      The man was entirely too good-looking. Always had been.

      She cleared her suddenly dry throat. “We both know how I got in the house. How did you get in?”

      “Actually, I have a key. Got it from Reilly after Agnes passed away.”

      “The attorney. Is it just a coincidence, or is he the same Russ Reilly who played running back at Darby High?”

      “The same. I’d have thought a woman with your connections would have checked out strange men sending you keys in the mail.”

      She arched a brow, feeling on more solid ground. She knew he was wondering about her and it felt good to be thought of as a woman of mystery. In school, she’d been brainy Archer, nobody special, someone who pretty much blended into the woodwork. Oh, she’d had plenty of friends—but few in the “in crowd”…except for Joe Colter. And courting that relationship had been a painful, lesson-learning mistake she would not repeat.

      “Sounds like you’re fishing for information, Colter.”

      “Maybe I am. All in the name of law enforcement, you understand.”

      She grinned, liking the feeling of keeping him off balance. She didn’t normally play games with men. But then, she didn’t normally come within touching distance of Joe Colter, either. “Then you’ll understand about confidentiality.”

      “Mmm. What about professional courtesy?”

      “I wasn’t aware that we were on a case.”

      His gaze was very direct. “We could be.”

      Penny shivered. She didn’t know when the conversation had taken such a turn, but she’d lost the thread. And had no idea what they were talking about or around, or what the innuendoes meant. She only knew that if she didn’t get a grip, she was going to do something stupid. Like walk right into Joe Colter’s arms and beg him to give her a refresher course on the feel of his lips against hers.

      Or worse yet, to give him a refresher course, to show him exactly what he’d thrown away sixteen years ago, what he’d missed.

      She took a breath, needed a distraction. “So…I heard you got married.”

      His nod was barely there, his gaze watchful. “Divorced four years ago.”

      A warm flush washed over her. “I hadn’t heard that.” Thinking he was married had been a buffer. Now that buffer was gone. And he was standing in front of her looking at her as though she was dinner. Oh, man. “Do you have children?”

      He shook his head. “Wanted them. She didn’t.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Me, too.”

      The hint of yearning in his tone connected with something inside Penny. Something she wasn’t aware of and didn’t understand. She shook off the odd tug.

      “I’m surprised you stayed in Darby. I’d pictured 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

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