down, boys,” the sheriff ordered, appearing by her side.
The dogs stilled and then, after a hand movement from the sheriff, disappeared around the corner. Lydia could hardly contain her breathing. The sheriff ran a soothing hand down her spine.
“So you don’t like dogs?” he asked, in a laconic drawl that made her want to kick him.
“I like show dogs. Pets with manners,” she said. To her own ears her voice sounded thin and airy. Did she sound that weak to him?
“Those are real dogs for real men, sweetheart. Not the cultured kind of pet you find in the city.”
“How did you know I’m from the city?” she asked. Oh, God, did he know who she was? For the first time since he’d rejoined her, she studied him.
Her breath caught in her throat. If he’d been sexy wearing only a towel, he was even more so clothed in a black T-shirt and faded jeans. She liked the smile in his eyes and the quiet confidence he projected. She didn’t want to like him because she had to deceive him, but she knew there was little hope for resisting him.
He shrugged his shoulder and scratched his chin before answering her. “You just have the look of the city.”
He had no idea how right he was. She did have the look, had, in fact, been part of a national campaign with her supermodel mother when she was fifteen. Lydia bit her lip as thoughts of her mother assailed her. Her mother had been killed in the terrorist downing of a plane.
“I didn’t realize bloody wounds and rumpled clothing were in fashion this year,” she quipped.
“Maybe you’ll start a trend.”
She doubted it. She hated the spotlight. Uncomfortable with the silence between them, she diverted the conversation to business. “I should have asked you for a phone earlier to call a wrecker.”
“I already took care of that. And I’ve called one of my deputies and an ambulance. They’ll be waiting for us by your car. Here’s my badge, by the way,” he said, quickly extending the badge for her to see. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back to your vehicle.”
“Thanks.”
She’d always had everything she wanted but riding in a 4X4 would be a new experience. If she’d walked back to her car, her feet would have protested. His big truck sported a little step built under the door. Thank God, she thought. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to climb inside without help.
The sheriff stood behind her anyway and boosted her to the step. She seated herself, then realized they were eye-to-eye. He was a tall man, this sheriff. His eyes were an icy gray. The play of light over his features fascinated her. A strong jaw and sun and laugh lines that radiated outward from his eyes.
A real man. A shiver of awareness spread through her body and pooled at her center. She’d bet her last hundred-dollar bill that he had the kind of muscles you couldn’t get with weekly trips to the fitness center. Stop it, she warned herself.
She’d never been on her own, and the prospect was daunting. For a moment she wanted to return to the familiar, her prestigious name and large bank account. But she also wanted the chance to prove to herself that she was more than a commodity to be sold to the highest bidder.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’m Evan Powell. Please call me Evan,” he said.
“Thank you, Evan.”
“You’re welcome….”
He wanted to know her name. Come on girl, think. The safest name would be her own. She’d use her middle name, which was what her closest friends called her anyway. She’d give her father’s name for the last name. “Lydia Martin.”
“Lydia,” he repeated her name as if savoring the feel of it on his tongue.
He closed the door. She watched him walk around the truck and sucked in a few deep breaths before he returned. The cab smelled warm and masculine. Like his aftershave, she realized as he climbed behind the wheel.
He started the truck and the twang of country guitar filled it. He reached out to turn down the volume and she watched his hands. Twice he’d held her arm. She wondered what his touch would feel like in a different context and not on her arm. Her nipples tightened against her lacy bra.
“Are you visiting around these parts?” he asked.
Glad for the distraction from her thoughts, she said, “No, I’m just passing through. I was heading to Deerfield Beach to stay with my aunt.”
They’d reached the end of his driveway. “Which way?”
“Left.”
Her BMW was still wrapped around a telephone pole, and the wreck looked a lot worse in the harsh light cast by his 4X4 truck. “I’m surprised you were able to walk away.”
“The air bag and seat belt saved my life,” she said and knew it was true.
Amazing she’d survived, she thought as she stared at the twisted pile of metal. She felt as if she’d been given another chance at life, and she decided to make the most of it. If she wanted to marry for love she’d have to find a man worthy of her love—and find out if she was worthy of his love. The ideas she’d been playing with earlier solidified, and she knew a sense of purpose for the first time in her life. And that purpose was going to take her in the opposite direction to where her life had been heading.
The police, ambulance and wrecker all arrived while she watched from the cab of Evan’s truck. She felt a little like a fairy-tale princess who’d just been awakened from a long sleep. Only this princess would travel a harder road to find her knight in shining armor and live happily ever after.
Two
It was bad enough Evan was attracted to a tourist he was sworn to protect and serve but to discover one of his cows had caused the accident was a fitting end to the night. Lydia, who’d yet to produce an ID, didn’t want to press charges. But Evan knew he’d have to cover the car repair and probably a couple of nights’ motel stay.
Though the EMT who examined her feared she might have a concussion, she refused to go to the hospital and stay overnight. Evan knew he couldn’t dump her in a motel.
“She can stay with me tonight,” he volunteered.
The EMT gave him instructions to wake her every two hours and ask her a few questions.
“I don’t want to be an imposition,” Lydia said after the EMT had left.
“You won’t be. I take in boarders in the summer.”
“Really, I’ll be fine in a motel.”
“It’s either my place or the hospital, sweetheart.”
“Listen here, Sheriff. I don’t take orders from anyone.”
“I’m not giving you an order. I’m making a decision for you. You are too impaired due to your injury to decide
