a large brown towel around his waist, he glimpsed his own visage in the mirror. He looked like a harsh man. The kind of man who’d lived a hard life. He knew the mirror didn’t lie. If anything it softened his image.
He hoped to God one of his deputies was ringing the bell. Maybe Hobbs, his newest recruit, who was still wet behind the ears. A neighbor or tourist would probably run for the hills, seeing him. Except Florida didn’t have hills, he thought.
He stalked through the dark house. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed one o’clock. If his favorite cow hadn’t chosen tonight to give birth he’d already be in bed and resting. Only an emergency would bring someone out at this time of night.
He should take time to grab some pants, he thought. But he wasn’t feeling hospitable and didn’t really feel like making the effort of dressing. He paused by the locked gun cabinet in the living room to grab his weapon. The .45 felt right in his hand, something he never examined too closely.
Pants were an option but his gun wasn’t. When had life been brought down to survive or die? he wondered. He knew it had a lot to do with the training he’d received in Quantico.
He flicked on the porch light, then swung the door open, hiding the gun behind the barrier of wood and glass. A slender woman with slicked-back blond hair stood in the doorway. A gash on her head bled slowly, and her deep blue eyes were wide with shock.
“I wrecked my car,” she said. Her voice had a slightly high pitch and no accent. She wavered on her feet, and he reached out to steady her. The feel of expensive silk beneath his fingers was foreign. For a moment he wanted to enjoy the sensation of caressing luxury, but he couldn’t. People who stared through shop windows at things they couldn’t have only ended up drooling on themselves.
“Where?” he asked, reminding himself he was the sheriff and had sworn to protect and serve civilians.
She gestured wildly toward the long, winding driveway and the highway. Had she walked from the wreck? She had to be exhausted.
The harsh fluorescent lamp was punishing, revealing her shock and fatigue in stark detail. Her skin looked so fine it seemed almost translucent. He wanted to touch her. Her flesh couldn’t be as soft as it looked. Annoyed, he realized she aroused him. He must be more tired than he thought if this woman was slipping past his guard.
She should have appeared chic and sophisticated, if her clothes and haircut were any indication, and to some extent she did. But there was an air of fragility and innocence about her. Not the debauched boredom that he’d encountered countless times in the rich.
Those emotions were oddly out of step with what he expected of her type. His ex-wife Shanna had the same sleek look about her but absolutely no fragility or innocence. In fact, Shanna was a barracuda, swimming through the masses of men who thronged around her in search of a weak one to kill.
“Where’s your car?” he repeated.
“At the edge of your property, at least I think it’s your property. Do you own the Rockin’ PJP Ranch? There was a cow and a…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze swept down his body, and she realized he wore only a towel.
When her eyes widened, he saw a hint of female speculation in her gaze before fear entered. She struggled to free herself, pulling frantically on her arm. He set his gun on the hall table. He held her shoulders in both of his hands, afraid she’d fall down the porch steps and further injure herself in her frantic bid for escape.
“Hold still, dammit. I’m not going to hurt you.” It was odd that he had to reassure her. Being the local law meant that most people turned to him for protection. Though he knew the lack of a uniform probably had a lot to do with her reaction. He wasn’t a safe-looking guy. He was a tough hombre, he thought, remembering his wisecracking deputy’s description.
Still, damn few people ran from him. If they did, they had a reason. This little lady sure didn’t have anything to fear from him.
She aimed him a haughty look, bringing the poise and elegance he’d only speculated about earlier to the fore.
Evan released her and spread his hands wide. “I’m the sheriff.”
“Where’s your badge? And no, I don’t want to see your stick.”
Evan bit back the laughter rising in his throat. He liked this feisty woman even though she’d disturbed his peaceful night.
He wanted to touch her again. To see if she reacted as quickly to passion as she did to anger. He wished he’d slid his palms down her arms before he’d released her. He’d bet his next month’s pay she’d be soft and smooth. She had that pampered look.
“Don’t run off. I’ll go get my pants and my badge, and we’ll go see about your car.”
“Okay,” she said, her body relaxing. The shocked expression left her and a tentative half-grin lit her face.
“Do you want to wait inside or would you feel safer on the porch?” he asked.
“I’ll wait out here.”
He couldn’t blame her. Though he knew he meant her no harm, she had to trust and depend on herself for protection until he proved himself harmless.
“We’ve got two dogs who have the run of the place so if they show up while I’m gone don’t be alarmed. They’re all bark,” he said as he headed for the stairs.
“Like their owner,” she muttered.
Though he knew her words hadn’t been intended to reach him, he pivoted and walked back toward her. “I’m not all bark.”
She held her spine stiff and straight in a way that reminded him of a proud twenty-year Marine. When she spoke, the sparkle in her eye reassured him her injury wasn’t too serious. “I didn’t say you were.”
He reached out with his free hand brushing a finger down the side of her cheek. Dammit, she was as soft as he’d suspected. “Sure you did, sweetheart. You just hoped I wouldn’t hear.”
He backed away, knowing if he stayed too close he’d be tempted…. Tempted to touch her again with his mouth. Tempted to pull her soft curvy body into the hard muscles of his. Tempted to forget his good sense and take what her snapping eyes didn’t know they offered.
“If I didn’t want you to hear, I wouldn’t have said it out loud.”
He liked her grit. “I’m your only hope of not standing outside all night, so you might want to remember that.”
“I will. I’m sorry. I’m just tired and scared.”
Evan softened toward her. She seemed delicate and he wanted to comfort her. How many times did he have to learn the same lesson? Although he was torn, he knew better.
Women weren’t the weaker sex, as men had stupidly assumed for eons. They were a powerhouse. And no one knew that better than Evan Powell.
“It’s okay. I do resemble the dogs in some ways.”
“Which ways?” she asked, her eyes alight with curiosity instead of shock.
I’m loyal and trustworthy, he thought. But didn’t
