fact that you’re no lightweight, despite what I said in a snit of temper.”
His roundabout compliment and the teasing hint of concern flattered Miranda.
“You aren’t afraid to take risks and you don’t mind getting your hands dirty with hard work,” he added as his dark gaze skimmed over her face. “You don’t hover on the perimeters of life—you dive in headfirst. I respect those qualities and I can relate to them. But I still don’t like seeing you hurt.”
She was so flattered and pleased that she very nearly caved in and pressed an impulsive kiss to that sexy mouth that had driven her crazy each time she ventured close enough to appraise the shape and texture of it.
“For the record,” she murmured unsteadily, “I don’t hate you and I’m not out to get you.”
When he smiled rakishly her heart slammed against her ribs—and stuck there momentarily. “Maybe I’d like it better if you were out to get me,” he said in an ultrasexy voice as he inched closer.
He was practically standing on top of her, crowding her space, surrounding her with that magnetic male aura and staring at her mouth as if he wanted to devour her. She wondered how it would feel to have those sinewy arms wrapped around her and give into this fierce, illogical attraction that was growing by leaps and bounds.
Just one taste and touch. What could it hurt? You could like it too much, came the voice of caution. And that would be dangerous. This, she reminded herself, isn’t the kind of danger you’re equipped to handle so back off.
Swallowing hard, Miranda retreated from temptation. She pivoted to scuttle down the steps on legs that suddenly felt like cooked noodles. “We better get going,” she chirped. “I’m a stickler for punctuality.”
“Figured as much,” Vance said as he followed her to the squad car.
Miranda didn’t try to engage in conversation during the drive, just let silence reign supreme. She just kept sneaking peeks to study Vance’s profile in the dash lights. Of course, she’d been guilty of sneaking peeks at him every chance she got during the day. She was too aware of him, too aware of her attraction to him.
Now that she’d come to like him he was even more difficult to resist. But she had to resist that playful charm. She predicted he could be a heartbreaker if a woman began to care too much. Quint Ryder might have been a former ladies’ man of the family, but now that he was out of circulation she suspected Vance held the title and she didn’t doubt for a minute that he could live up to the family reputation.
When Miranda pulled up in front of Stephanie’s Palace, Vance stared questioningly at her. “Why are we stopping here? Checking for a liquor license or something?”
“Nope. This is where you get out, cowboy,” she said.
He frowned suspiciously. “Now look, Calamity Jane, you upheld your end of the deal today and I sure as hell intend to uphold mine. I’m not about to lounge around at dinner while you’re wolfing down a stale sandwich from Hoot ’N’ Holler and patrolling the streets.”
“Get out, Vance. I’m giving an order, just like the ones you gave me at your ranch. I obeyed them to the best of my abilities. I expect the same consideration from you. Now go!”
He opened his mouth to protest then clamped his jaw shut. “Okay, fine. But if you don’t come back in an hour so I can take my tour of duty I’m gonna be spitting mad. Got it?”
Miranda nodded. “Got it. Now beat it. I’m going to check the alleys to ensure the other downtown businesses are secured for the night.”
The instant he stepped from the car she whizzed off, before his guilty conscience could nip at him again and he tried to climb back inside. As for Miranda, she desperately needed some breathing space—some downtime away from the kind of temptation she’d never faced…until she ran headlong into Vance Ryder.
5
WHEN MIRANDA DROVE OFF, Vance stood by the curb until she disappeared from sight. Well, hell, he’d pretty much put her, and himself, through the paces during the day and now she was letting him off easy by allowing him to enjoy a leisurely meal. He’d have Steph dish up one of her fancy gourmet dinners-to-go and take it to Randi when she picked him up.
With that plan in mind, Vance entered the ritzy restaurant then stumbled backward in disbelief when dozens of people—his cousins included—bounded from their chairs to yell, “Surprise! Happy birthday!”
Vance stood there like a thunderstruck idiot while his friends, neighbors and family converged to shake his hand and pat him on the back.
Several minutes later, Vance cornered his cousins. “I thought you said you were throwing me a small family party this weekend,” he reminded them.
“We still are,” Wade replied. “This was Randi’s idea. She set it up.”
Vance’s jaw dropped open and his eyes popped like boiled eggs. “She did? When?”
“She called Steph at noon to make the arrangements,” Quint reported.
“Then she called Laura at school and asked her to make the phone invitations during her planning hour,” Wade added. “She also paid for the cake the chef prepared in your honor and bought the dinner you’re about to eat.”
Vance was floored—and that was putting it mildly. Randi had gone to all this expense and effort for him? He was stunned that she even remembered that he mentioned his birthday during their heated debate in Tate’s office.
Why had she done this? Hell, she couldn’t even be here to reap the benefits of a superb meal and fancy cake. And furthermore, he suspected she had no intention of swinging by to pick him up this evening. She intended for him to party until the restaurant closed at ten.
Feeling like a jerk for working her like a field hand all day, while she secretly set up this wingding, Vance put on his happy face and enjoyed the celebration in his honor. But it didn’t set well, knowing she’d outdone him. Plus, he knew she’d taken a pay cut for the shorter shifts she’d be working this week. She’d spent hard-earned money on him.
Well, he wouldn’t be so hard on her tomorrow, he promised himself as he settled in for a mouth-watering feast. Man, this was something. No one besides family had ever gone to so much effort to recognize his birthday. He wouldn’t forget her thoughtful gesture, either.
MIRANDA TRUDGED TO HER cracker-box apartment after her five-hour shift on patrol. Sitting for long hours in the squad car—after straining muscles during ranch chores—made her body stiffen like cured plaster. Every tendon and joint screamed in complaint until she half-collapsed in her recliner.
Ah, well, it was worth it to know she’d surprised Vance and compensated in some small way for getting them into this mess with the chief. No doubt, Vance had hooked up with one of the women attending the party and was celebrating his birth by practicing procreation.
The thought stung more than it should have. She and Vance had nothing going—except her itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny one-sided infatuation that was so inappropriate that it didn’t bear thinking about.
The abrupt rap at the door brought Miranda upright in her chair. “Who’s there?” she called
