A Match Made in Texas (8 page)

Cora’s eyes widened, and her smile drooped. “She’s the one who shot Elvis? That’s too bad. I was hoping that you were Dusty’s new gal. He certainly needs one. A little TLC would make his disposition better and my life a helluva lot easier—so why did you shoot Elvis?”

Since Dusty wasn’t about to let Cora Lee take over his interrogation—or continue to impart personal information—he took Brianne’s arm. “Come on, Miz Cates, I’ll show you to your room.”

She hesitated for only a second before allowing him to escort her down the long corridor to the door at the end. Dusty took the ring of keys off the hook and unlocked the door. The room with the three jail cells was dimly lit and stifling. Once the door locked behind him, he flipped on the light and took off his sunglasses.

Instead of waiting for him to direct her into a cell, she chose the middle one.

The only one with a small window.

He followed her in, not realizing how tiny the cell was until she turned around and looked at him with eyes the same color as his favorite chambray shirt.

“You expect me to use that.” She pointed at the toilet in the corner.

“It’s a jail, Miz Cates, not the Hyatt.” He walked over to the window and opened it, checking to make sure the bars hadn’t fallen out of the crumbling stucco and also allowing the cool breeze to alleviate some of the heat. “Did you shoot Elvis?”

She laughed, and he turned to find her sitting on the small cot. “Believe me, there was a point when I wanted to.” She smoothed a hand over the wool blanket that had been tightly tucked around the paper-thin mattress. Her fingers were long and slim, her nails as neat and manicured as the rest of her. “But no,” she continued as her hand lifted to toy with the diamond solitaire that hung around her neck. A diamond no doubt worth at least a month of Dusty’s salary. “I didn’t shoot Elvis. And neither did anyone else. Minnie just fired a warning shot to scare him off.”

Dusty wasn’t surprised. The ornery old woman was always shooting at some unwary man who happened to stop by Miss Hattie’s without invitation.

“Who is he?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Some traveling evangelist.” She dropped the diamond, and it swayed against the top swells of her breasts as she sat up. “Look, you’ve proven your point. I was wrong to run you off the road and mace you. But it looks like you’ll live. So why don’t you quit playing this little game of bad cop and let me go before my brothers get here and make both our lives hell.”

Dusty studied the diamond before he turned and walked out of the cell. “Somehow I don’t think your life has ever been hell. And as for my life”—he slammed the bars—“it already is.”

When he got back to the reception area, Cora was pulling one of her Weight Watcher meals out of the microwave.

“Have you lost your mind, Dusty Hicks?” Cora juggled the hot plastic container over to her desk. “It just dawned on me who that little gal is. She’s Brianne Cates—
the
Brianne Cates. And there’s no tellin’ what her family will do once they find out you tossed her in jail. I don’t care if she did shoot Elvis.”

“She didn’t shoot Elvis,” Dusty said. “She maced an officer of the law. And I’m not letting her go until Judge Seeley sets bail, regardless of how pissed off the Cates brothers get.”

“Oh, they’ll be pissed off, all right,” she said. “Everything I’ve read about the Cates family leads me to believe that they’re very family oriented. And her brothers aren’t the type of men who will sit back and let their little sister rot in jail.” She picked up a white Sonic bag and handed it to him. “Kenny brought by lunch and told me to tell you that he’ll be back after he finishes his patrol route.”

Dusty jerked the bag from her hand. “He doesn’t have a damned patrol route! And I don’t care about the Cates brothers. Breaking the law is breaking the law.” He whirled and headed back to his office, slamming the door behind him.

Once there, he paced back and forth in front of his desk. When he realized that he’d once again let his temper get the best of him, he stopped pacing and forced himself to sit down in his chair. But instead of eating his cheeseburger, he pulled the stress ball out of his desk drawer and called Judge Seeley. It came as no surprise that the judge was out of his office. Quail season was in full swing. Which meant that Minnie was right. It could be a while before the judge posted bail.

Uttering a curse, Dusty grabbed the paper sack off his desk and headed out of his office. On the way down the corridor, he stopped and bought a Diet Coke from the soda machine.

He unlocked the door to the jail to find Brianne escaping. Or not escaping as much as stuck. Obviously, the crumbling stucco hadn’t been strong enough, and she had managed to get the bars off and her upper body through the tiny window. Fortunately, her hips were too wide to fit through. She wiggled and squirmed as her bare toes pressed against the wall just above the bed she’d pulled beneath the window.

Dusty watched for a few moments, his gaze pinned on the curves of her butt, which pushed out so temptingly. As much as he hated to admit it, she had one nice ass. Beneath the soft material of her pants, her cheeks curved out in lush fullness. And Dusty couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to curl his fingers around those hips and still her wiggles with a hard thrust.

The train of his thoughts caused desire to ooze slow and thick through his veins straight to the bulge beneath his fly. His reaction drained all the humor out of the situation and had him walking over to unlock the cell. He pushed open the bars, and at the creak of the hinges, she stilled.

“Is someone there?” She tried to pull her head back in, but she really did appear to be stuck.

Dusty walked over and set the bag and soft drink on the end of the bed. “Problems?”

She hesitated for only a second before she answered. “No, no problems. I was just getting a breath of fresh air.”

A smile crept over Dusty’s mouth. “Really? And how’s the weather?”

“A little windy.” She remained teetering in the window, her toes a good foot from the mattress. Since her fingernails were painted a pastel color, he was surprised to find her toenails painted an electric blue with… he leaned closer… little white lightning bolts on the big toes.

“Do you think you could help me out here?”

Her words had him jumping guiltily as if he’d been looking at something more than just her bare toes. Of course, he had no business examining anything on the woman—nice butt or weirdly painted toes. She was his prisoner, and he needed to remember that.

“My sweater appears to be stuck on the latch,” she said.

He stepped closer to the bed and rested a knee on the mattress. “Lean to the side a little,” he ordered. When she complied, he reached up and tried to unhook her sweater. Unfortunately, her struggles had thoroughly entangled the yarn in the metal frame and no amount of tugging would free it.

“Could you hurry up? I can’t hold myself up anymore.” She slipped down a few inches from the window, sliding her sweater up her rib cage. Her stomach was flat and trim… and inches away from his mouth. A mouth that suddenly felt as dry and desolate as the Sahara. If he tipped his head just a little, he could press his lips to the pretty little freckle right under the gathered material of her sweater.

Dusty pulled back.
Damn
. Obviously, his self-inflicted abstinence had finally caught up with him. One peek of skin and he’d almost lost it. Unfortunately, one peek wasn’t all he was going to get.

“To hell with it!” Bri said, right before she raised her arms and completely slipped out of the sweater, leaving it hanging from the window. Dusty barely registered the hot pink bra and miles of soft skin before Brianne tumbled into his arms.

He told himself to put her down and step away, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. He held her trim waist in a death grip, her feet dangling and her curvy butt flush against his zipper. And keeping your willpower with a fully dressed woman you weren’t touching was much easier than keeping it with a half-naked woman you were.

Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder. He expected her wide blue eyes to be filled with snooty disdain. Instead, they were filled with something that looked like the same rampant desire that swirled around inside of him. Still, he might’ve been able to let her go if she hadn’t slipped a hand around his neck and offered up those pump lips.

Months of abstinence turned to dust as Dusty closed his eyes and melted into the kiss. For such an innocent-looking woman, she had a wicked way with a kiss. Their lips had barely touched before her tongue came into play, giving his bottom teeth a sexy little flick before coaxing his tongue into a hot tango that turned his cock as hard as the concrete beneath his boots.

While one of her hands caressed the hair at the nape of his neck, the other took his hand and drew it up to her satin-covered breast. He gently squeezed, and a groan escaped his mouth. How long had it been since he cradled a woman’s breast? Kneaded the resilient flesh? Strummed the hard peak? So long that he couldn’t seem to get enough. Once he had thoroughly inspected one breast, he moved on to the next. But as his hand swept over her cleavage, his fingertips brushed against the cold hardness of the diamond solitaire. That was all it took to take the starch right out of his lust.

He dropped his hands and stepped back. She wobbled a little before slowly turning to look at him. Her hot blue, desire-drugged eyes almost had him reaching for her again. To keep himself from it, he stepped out of the cell and slammed the bars closed. Still, it took a few moments before he could speak.

“I’ll have the judge here as soon as I can. Even if I have to track him down on a hunt myself.”

The words seemed to clear the desire from Brianne’s eyes. Although the humor that replaced it bothered him even more. She adjusted her bra, displaying her plump cleavage to a mouthwatering effect, and smiled sweetly.

“Take your time, Sheriff. Jail isn’t quite as bad as I thought.”

Chapter Eight

“N
OW THAT’S A REAL INTERESTIN’ STORY,
Ms. Cates.” Judge Seeley leaned back in the chair behind Sheriff Hicks’s desk and rested his hands over his camouflaged hunting vest. “I especially liked the part about Elvis. I’ve always been a big Elvis fan, myself, even after he gained weight and started dressing like Liberace.”

Bri sent the man a dimpled smile. “So is my mama. She’s been to Graceland at least ten times—six on the King’s birthday—and has every Elvis souvenir known to man. Although my daddy put his foot down on the velvet painting.”

A derisive snort had her turning to the man who leaned in the doorway with arms crossed and scowl deep. If Bri had thought Sheriff Hicks had been ill tempered before their kiss, it was nothing compared to after. And his anger was baffling. Men usually didn’t hold grudges for kisses. Especially men who desired you. And there was little doubt in her mind that Sheriff Hicks desired her. She had felt the rock-solid proof of that desire when she’d fallen into his arms.

Yet here he was, studying her as if the entire episode in the jail cell had been all her fault. True, she had been the aggressor, something that was completely out of character for her, but he hadn’t put up much of a fight.

“I take it that you’re not an Elvis fan, Sheriff,” she said.

“Oh, I love Elvis, Miz Cates,” he said. “I just don’t have time for a bunch of chitchat about a man who’s been dead for going on forty years—and neither does the judge.” Without his sunglasses, his eyes drilled right through her. From this distance, they looked the color of Brant’s favorite brandy. But after being up close and personal, she knew the dark pupils were surrounded by a subtle splash of dark green.

“Speak for yourself, Dusty,” Judge Seeley said. “There’s nothin’ wrong with a little chitchat. Especially when Brianne’s almost like family.” He reached for the stress ball that sat on the sheriff’s desk. He examined it for only a moment before putting it back. “I met her daddy when he first started his farmin’ equipment business. And I’ve talked with her brother Brant at more than a few political fund-raisers.”

“Now that I think of it, I remember my brother mentioning you,” Bri gushed. “I can’t believe we haven’t had you out to the house for some of my mama’s Shoofly pie. It’s the best in seven counties—”

“She maced an officer of the law.” Sheriff Hicks cut her off, his words hissing through his clenched teeth.

Judge Seeley held up a hand. “And we certainly can’t ignore that.” Before Bri could panic, he sent her a wink. “Nor can we let a pretty little thing rot in jail—one night was bad enough.”

Surprisingly, the night in jail hadn’t been bad at all. Cora Lee had seen to that. The gregarious woman had brought her a comforter and pillow, a dinner of Kentucky Fried Chicken, and a laptop with numerous DVDs. The sheriff hadn’t shown his face until that morning when the judge had arrived.

The judge lifted his white eyebrows. “Especially when it sounds like she might’ve been the victim of an overzealous sheriff.”

Sheriff Hicks pushed away from the doorjamb. “She was driving down the wrong side of the highway!”

“Because of Elvis,” Judge Seeley said. “Haven’t you been listenin’ to a word this young woman has said?”

Bri sent the judge her wide-eyed innocent look. “Some folks are just better listeners than others.”