“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that sexual assault is a felony?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed, a hotly brilliant light burning in them. Behind him, Rollie muttered, “Jeezus, Lath. Grab the beer and let’s go. Ma’ll be wondering where we are.”
He stepped back, a shrewd slyness in the quick smile he sent her, his hands falling away. “I’ll be seeing you again, honey,” he said with a wink.
Cat squeezed past him, his low laugh burning in her ears. Her glance swept over Rollie Anderson, but there was no sympathy visible anywhere in his hard expression, not that she had expected to find any.
At the cash register, she wasted little time paying for the strawberries. As she crossed to the door, a patrol car, bearing the sheriff’s insignia, pulled up to the store. Cat walked outside, half-irritated that it had not arrived earlier.
A man stepped out of the patrol car, tall and leanly muscled, the tan of his uniform pointing up the bronze of his skin, the blue-black ends of his hair visible beneath the brim of his western hat. Cat gave him a polite but dismissive nod, then faltered, her shocked glance racing back to the high, hard cheekbones and a pair of smoke-gray eyes that momentarily mirrored her own surprise. Then pleasure warmed them, and a smile crooked his mouth in that familiar way Cat remembered all too well.
Frozen in place, she was unable to move or think, only feel the crazy rocketing of her pulse and the enveloping heat of that night.
Memories she had blocked for almost six years came rushing back, vivid and sharp as yesterday, replete with all the churning hunger and need.
An interval of three feet separated them, every inch in it electrified. His low voice broke the silence, the sound of it stroking her like a caress.
“I wondered if I would ever see you again.”
“How—why—” Shaken by the memories and feelings he had awakened, Cat paused a beat to regroup. Automatically she shifted the packages in her arms, holding them in front of her, using them as a barrier to break the force of his presence. “What are you doing here?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded remarkably calm and level, considering the chaos going on inside.
He stood before her, exhibiting that same quiet competence and latent strength, his steady gaze absorbing every nuance of her expression. “There was an opening in the sheriff’s office. I took it.” His smile lengthened a little. “It’s a far cry from Fort Worth.”
She looked at the badge he wore, and the name below it—Logan Echohawk. How had he found out she was here? Did he know about Quint? These and a hundred other questions raced through her mind, bringing Cat to the edge of panic. She had rebuilt her life, her reputation; people had begun to respect her again. Now—fear licked through her.
“Fort Worth was a long time ago.” She was deliberately curt, determined to have him know that she wanted nothing further to do with him. “Good day.”
She walked off, resisting the urge to run, conscious of his gaze following her. The faint jingle of bells reached her, and the tingling sensation of being watched left her. Cat dragged in a shaky breath of relief, but even as she did, she knew this wouldn’t be her last encounter with him. Blue Moon was too small and the area too sparsely populated.
With an effort, Logan dragged his gaze away from her, still struggling with the riptide of feelings the sight of her had unleashed, each one as potent and fresh as it had been that night. The desire was there to go after her, but he didn’t—just as he hadn’t stopped her that night in Fort Worth when she slipped out of the hotel room.
Instead he swung his attention to the two men coming out of the store, his gaze centering on the shorter of the two brothers, watching the flare of recognition and the instant thinning of his lips.
“I see the bus got in a few minutes early. And here I planned to be on hand to meet you when you got off, Lath.”
Ignoring that, Lath swaggered two steps closer. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Agent Echohawk.” His glance flicked to the deputy’s badge pinned to his shirtfront. “My mistake, it isn’t Agent anymore, is it? Look
s like you took a couple steps down.”
“I decided I wanted a bit more peace and quiet in my life.” His smile was as cool and unrevealing as his level gaze.
Lath grinned. “Yeah, I heard you got shot up pretty bad last year. I don’t wonder that you decided to take early retirement. There’s nothing like taking a couple of bullets to make you lose your stomach for the wild side of the street.”
“You’re free to think that if you want, but I wouldn’t take any bets on it.” Humor slid into the hard angles of his face, a humor that held some acid and some iron. He glanced at the plastic sack Lath carried, marking the telltale bulge of a six-pack. “I hope you’re planning on drinking that beer after you get home. There’s a law against driving under the influence.”
“Rollie and me wouldn’t think of driving and drinking,” Lath declared with a great show of innocence. “We’re reformed citizens. We won’t be breaking out any beer until we get home.”
“See that you don’t,” Logan said and walked past them into the store.
The woman at the cash register looked up and brightened visibly. “Hi, Logan.”
“Mary.” He responded with an absent nod and crossed to the tobacco counter. “How’s business?”
“Tuesdays are always slow,” she said with a shrug. “If you’re looking for Emmett, he’s over in the garage, probably jawing with Bill Ruskin.”
“No, just stopped by to pick up some pipe tobacco.” He carried a tin of it to the register, his glance straying out the glass storefront to the two men climbing into an old pickup. “Did those two give you any trouble?” he asked, but his thoughts were already traveling along another track.
“Not really.” She rang up the purchase. “The older one ragged Emmett a bit for cutting off his mother’s credit, asked him to reconsider opening it, but that’s about all.”