Rubbing her palms together, she went to the counter and helped herself to a mug from the stack.
Cliff had been going to fix her the coffee. Instead, he watched, completely captivated. Scarlett glided across the room with an elegant—and subtly sensuous—grace he hadn’t noticed before. As if she were wearing heels and not cowboy boots.
She took her coffee black. That was different. Maybe he and his cowboy tastes were rubbing off on her. The leather belt was also different. She usually didn’t wear one. He found himself wishing she had. The belt accentuated her trim waist and ample curves, which were only hinted at before.
She raised the mug of coffee to her mouth, pursed her lips and blew on the liquid, then took a sip. A jolt Cliff hadn’t felt in Scarlett’s presence before arrowed through him. He’d always thought her to be attractive but not necessarily sexy. The sudden revelation unnerved him. He generally kept a firm grip on his emotions, a necessary skill in his line of work.
Picking up the bouquet, he said, “These are for you.”
“Thanks.” She accepted the flowers and, with both hands full, set them back down on the table. “You didn’t have to.”
“They’re a bribe. I was hoping you’d go with me to the square dance Friday night.”
The community center had finally reopened nearly a year after the fire. The barbeque and dance were in celebration.
“I...um...don’t think I can. I appreciate the invitation, though.”
“Are you going with someone else?” He didn’t like the idea of that.
“No, no. I’m just...busy.” She clutched her mug tightly between both hands.
“I’d really like to take you.” Fifteen minutes ago, he probably wouldn’t have put up a fight and accepted her loss of interest. Except he was suddenly more interested in her than before. These slight nuances in her were intriguing. “Think on it overnight.”
“O...kay.” She took another sip of her coffee. As she did, the cuff of her shirt sleeve pulled back.
He saw it then, a small tattoo on the inside of her left wrist resembling a shooting star. A second jolt coursed through him, this one of an entirely different nature. He hadn’t seen the tattoo before.
Because, as of seven days ago when he and Scarlett ate dinner at the I Do Café, it wasn’t there.
“Is that new?” He pointed to the tattoo.
Panic filled her eyes. “Um...yeah. It is.”
Cliff didn’t buy her story. There were no tattoo parlors in Sweetheart and, to his knowledge, she hadn’t left town. And why the sudden panic?
Before he could question her further, his cell phone rang.
“Tom Welch just called,” his deputy Iva Lynn said. “Seems some of his chain saws disappeared overnight from his garage. Though, knowing Tom, he probably lent it to a friend and can’t remember.”
“What’s his address?”
“140 Matrimony Lane.”
“Tell him I’ll be there shortly.” Cliff disconnected. “I’ll call you later,” he told Scarlett. And he would, if only to get to the bottom of her strange behavior and new tattoo that really didn’t look all that new.
“All right.”
Any other time, he would have given her a kiss. It felt strange under the current circumstances, so, instead, he opted for a brief, one-armed hug—which she tolerated more than returned.
The top of her head came to just under his nose. Cliff inhaled, only to pull back and stare at her.
Scarlett averted her face as if shy. Or she was hiding something. His police instincts told him it was the latter.
Leaning down, he took another whiff of the scent that had triggered his internal alarm. She smelled delightful, reminding him of the flowers he’d brought for her. It also wasn’t at all how Scarlett normally smelled.
Something was seriously wrong.
He scrutinized her face. Eyes, chocolate brown and fathomless. Same as before. Hair, thick and glossy as mink’s fur. Her lips, however, were different. More ripe, more lush and incredibly kissable.
He didn’t stop to think and simply reacted. The next instant, his mouth covered hers.
She squirmed and squealed and wrestled him. Hot coffee splashed onto his chest and down his slacks. He let her go, but not because of any pain.
“Are you crazy?” she demanded, her breath coming fast.
Holding on to the wrist with the new tattoo, he narrowed his gaze. “Who the hell are you? And don’t bother lying because I know you aren’t Scarlett McPhee.”
Chapter Two
“Don’t hurt me! Please.”
Ruby had made the identical plea eight days earlier when she was accosted in her condo. The stalker hadn’t listened and instead had increased his choke hold, starving her body of oxygen as he whispered vile things in her ears.
This man, Cliff, did listen. He released her but planted himself directly in her path, his stance and demeanor that of a linebacker. If she tried to run, she wouldn’t make it three feet before he dropped her in her tracks.
“Who are you?” he repeated.
She wavered, forcing herself to concentrate as her heart banged against the side of her rib cage. He was the local sheriff. Sworn to serve and protect, yes? And Ruby, God help her, needed protection.
He was also someone her sister had liked well enough to date. Ruby should be able to trust him, only she didn’t.
She cradled her wrist, the response more reflexive than anything else. He hadn’t hurt her. Not really. But the kiss, and its suddenness, had startled her, releasing a flood of harrowing memories she’d give anything to forget.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“No, I’m not.” She’d never be okay again.
He reached for her wrist. “Let me see.”
Alarmed, she retreated a step. He was already too close for comfort. “I’m fine.”
“Tell me your name.”
Ruby considered her answer. Lying, as he’d pointed out, was useless. He might arrest her. Probably would anyway. Either way, he’d find out very quickly she wasn’t Scarlett.
“Ruby,” she finally whispered. “Ruby McPhee.”
“Scarlett’s sister?”
She nodded. “Twin sister.”
His eyes bore into her, noting, she supposed, the resemblances and very
