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She paused, giving the matter honest consideration. “I suppose that in some ways, your description might apply to some litigators I know. But it certainly doesn’t fit me. And surely you don’t believe your cousin’s unethical?”

“Of course not. But Dan’s the exception.”

“Not the only one.”

He skimmed a look over her face. “Point taken.”

“Besides,” she continued, “law doesn’t come wrapped in neat, tidy little packages. Just because I can see shades of gray along with the black and white—”

“Now see, that’s where you and I are different, Harvard. Because I tend to stick to the black-and-white view. Good guys and bad guys. We cops like to keep things simple.”

“That may be true for some cops. But not you. You’re more complex.”

He lifted a brow. “Think so?”

“I know so. Despite all the trouble they’ve caused you, you treated those girls with kid gloves.”

“Unfortunately, the courts and citizen review groups tend to frown on police brutality these days.”

“That’s not the reason. You didn’t think of them as just delinquents, you thought of them as individual kids with problems. You saw the grays, Sheriff. Whether you want to admit it or not.”

He appeared to think about that for a moment. Then, as his gaze settled on her mouth, Raine drew in a breath.

“Well, whatever our individual take on jurisprudence, Dan’s definitely right about one thing.”

“What’s that?” Once again the atmosphere between them had become intensely charged. Raine imagined she could feel the electricity humming beneath her skin.

“About it being late. You probably should be getting home as well.”

“I suppose you’re right.” From the way he was still looking at her, like a man looks at a woman he wants, she suspected it was not his first choice either. When she felt herself responding to that hot gaze, like a woman responds to a man she
wants
to want her, Raine tried to remind herself that giving into these feelings would not be at all wise.

A light mist that was not quite rain had begun to fall. All too aware of the man walking her out to her car, Raine barely noticed it. A foghorn tolled out in the foggy bay; somewhere a dog let out a long, sad howl.

“Aaron Olson’s beagle-terrier mix,” Jack murmured.

“What?”

“The dog. The night shift usually logs about three complaints a month about the mutt.”

“Oh.” Raine was amazed either of them could hear anything over the hammering of her heart. “Well,” she said, trying for a briskly professional tone that failed miserably, “I suppose I’ll see you at the courthouse tomorrow, then.”

“I suppose so.”

When she would have opened the driver’s door, Jack curled his fingers around her shoulder and turned her back toward him. “No. Not yet.” He skimmed a thumb around her uplifted jaw.

Unable to help herself, Raine shuddered in response.

“You shivered.”

“I did not.”

“Liar.” Without taking his eyes from hers, he slipped his hand beneath the back of her sweater, splaying his fingers on flesh that felt as if it was burning up. “You did it again.”

“If I did, it’s only because I’m cold.” She lied again.

“Perhaps we can do something about that.”

“Jack…” The sighed word was more invitation than complaint. She found herself leaning toward him, felt her lips part in anticipation.

Before Raine could remind herself, yet again, that this was
not
a good idea, Jack lowered his mouth to hers.

P
repared for power, Raine was surprised by the gentleness of what was more promise than proper kiss, as the entire world narrowed down to the drugging feel of Jack O’Halloran’s lips against hers. It was as if he was the first man to kiss her, the first man she’d ever
wanted
to kiss her.

As Jack deepened the kiss, degree by intoxicating degree, Raine felt a golden heat flow through her, making her feel as if she’d swallowed the sun. They could have stood there in the cool night mist, Jack kissing Raine, her kissing him back for a minute, an hour, or an eternity.

Desire uncurled inside her and as she found herself wanting more, Raine struggled to remember that she’d never been the type of woman who indulged in one-night stands or brief sexual flings. She was only going to be here in Coldwater Cove one more day. Which definitely precluded giving into temptation where this man was concerned.

As if possessing the power to read her mind, Jack slowly lifted his head, breaking the exquisite contact. “There you go. Thinking again.” He smoothed the lines in her forehead with a fingertip. “Trying to figure all the angles.”

“I can’t help it.” Until meeting Jack O’Halloran, Raine had never regretted being so analytical. “I’m a lawyer. That’s what I do.”

“Not now.” When she would have dragged her hand through her damp hair, he caught it and kissed her fingertips, one at a time. “Not with me.”

Raine felt as if she were melting. “This is impossible,” she complained weakly.

Was it so wrong to want order in her life? Rules? Structure? Until a few days ago, Raine wouldn’t have even had been asking herself this question. And now, distressingly, she couldn’t come up with a quick or easy answer.

“You’re probably right,” he surprised her by agreeing. “But that hasn’t stopped me from thinking about it since you first plowed into my crime scene.”

“You didn’t like me.”

“Can you blame me? You’d been going out of your way to make my job—and my life—harder on a day that was already rough enough. You were, Harvard, pretty much a pain in the ass, which was only one of the reasons why I didn’t want to get involved with you. Hell, I’m not sure I do now.”

Raine felt a prick of wounded feminine pride and tried to remind herself that she had been thinking exactly the same thing. “That’s not very complimentary.”

“You want compliments?” He leaned closer, bent his head again.

“I didn’t say that.” She backed up a step. “I was merely making an observation.”

“You know,” he said conversationally, “when I was a kid I used to like to walk along the coast and look for flotsam from old shipwrecks. I had a pretty good collection of Japanese glass floats, some bleached boards—one with the part of a ship’s name on it—and when I was sixteen, I unearthed part of a ship’s figurehead from a pile of driftwood that had washed up on shore near Cape Disappointment.

“It was just her head and shoulders, but I took her home and hung her up on my wall. Late at night, I’d lie in bed and think of all the sea tales about how, when a ship was about to go down, the sailors would hear singing in the wind. Of course it would turn out to be the song of mermaids, luring them to their doom.”

His eyes turned weary, his voice resigned. “That’s pretty much how I felt about you the other night while we were driving up to Hurricane Ridge.”

Over the years, Raine had been described as opinionated, stubborn, argumentative, and, on one memorable occasion, a rebuffed would-be suitor had accused her of being encased in enough ice to cover Jupiter. The one thing no man had ever accused her of being was a
siren
. That description fit Lilith. Not her. She’d spent her entire life molding herself into a woman who was the polar opposite of her glamourous, seductive mother.

She drew in a breath, expelled it. “I can’t decide whether to be insulted or flattered.”

“Why don’t you sleep on it?” When he touched his mouth to the palm of the hand he was still holding, on some distant level Raine was vaguely amazed that her skin didn’t sizzle.

Then, when he ruffled her hair in a friendly, casual gesture, Raine decided that as devastating as those kisses had been, Jack O’Halloran was even more dangerous when he was being friendly.

She’d have to stay on her guard tomorrow, she reminded herself as she drove back through the deserted streets, her headlights shimmering on the wet asphalt. Her carefully planned life was on track. She knew where she was going and exactly how to get there. She’d worked hard from childhood to become the cool, logical, dispassionate woman she was; she was on the verge of achieving everything she wanted. Sheriff Jack O’Halloran, as sexy as he might admittedly be, was simply a complication she couldn’t afford.

Without warning, she was spinning back in time, metamorphosing into a too tall, too skinny, too serious girl with heavy glasses, freckles across her nose and a mouth full of metal braces that would have foiled the most intrepid teenage boy from kissing her. Not that many had been inclined to try. Which had been just fine with her. At least that’s what she’d always told herself. Until Jack O’Halloran’s kiss had tilted her world on its axis.

Dammit, what was the point in being so strong and confident in the rest of her life, if she was going to melt whenever she got within kissing distance of this man? What had happened to Xena? Where was the intrepid, take-no-prisoners female warrior princess when you needed her?

Raine asked herself that question all the way back to Ida’s house. Unfortunately, when she pulled into the driveway, she was no closer to figuring out the answer than she’d been when she’d escaped the surprisingly charming old farmhouse and a man who, if she let him, could disrupt her life.

By the time she climbed between the sheets that smelled of the Mrs. Stewart’s bluing that Ida had always added to the wash, Raine was forced to admit that somehow, when she hadn’t been paying attention, Sheriff Jack O’Halloran had already become a major distraction.

Go to sleep
, she instructed herself firmly.
You’ve got to be sharp in court tomorrow morning. Forget him
.

Much, much later, as she lay on her back, looking up at the swirls in the white plaster ceiling while a soft predawn silver-and-rose light slipped beneath the window shade, Raine realized that forgetting Coldwater Cove’s sheriff was a great deal easier said than done.

After a restless night, Raine met everyone downstairs. She was relieved that the girls had followed her instructions to dress as demurely as possible. Dressed in a stiffly starched black-and-white jumper, Gwen resembled a cross between a pregnant Flying Nun and Mary Poppins.

“You look lovely,” she reassured the girl, who was worried that her obvious pregnancy might hurt their cause.

Raine then turned toward her grandmother who was dressed in a vintage cranberry-hued Jackie Kennedy-style suit that smelled vaguely of mothballs. A pillbox hat in the same color perched atop the upswept gray bun like an egret’s nest crowning a Sitka spruce snag. “You look pretty snazzy, too.”

“I had to get this out of the attic.” Ida ran her hand down the skirt, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. Raine noticed that her hands were trembling. She couldn’t recall ever seeing her grandmother this nervous. “Don’t have much need to dress up in Coldwater Cove.”

“Well, isn’t it fortunate it’s back in style,” Raine said with a reassuring smile her grandmother didn’t return.

“Did you call the school?” Gwen asked suddenly.

“The school?”

“To tell them we’re not coming. I don’t want to get an unexcused absence on my permanent record.”

Not wanting to upset the girls before their court date, Raine refrained from pointing out that holding law enforcement officers from several counties at bay for hours undoubtedly hadn’t done much for Gwen’s permanent record.

“Gwen’s in the running for valedictorian,” Shawna revealed.

“Really?” Raine had just picked up the phone to dial the number of the school that her grandmother had written at one time on the small slate board above the wall phone.

“You don’t have to look so surprised,” Gwen complained. “I said I wanted to be a doctor.”

“That’s true. But I also seem to recall something about living on the street and panhandling on the ferry.”

“Oh, that. I didn’t drop out for very long. Mama Ida got me a tutor and since I was ahead of my class anyway, it didn’t take me all that long to catch up.”

“Well.” Raine gave her a long look, seeing the girl through new eyes. This entire misadventure was turning out to be just one surprise after another. “I’m very impressed.” She wondered how, if Gwen decided to keep this baby, she thought she’d be able to keep her grades up while dealing with the demands of a newborn.

The principal passed along the word that everyone at the school was pulling for Gwen to do well in her hearing today. Obviously, Raine thought as she hung up, she’d been guilty of stereotyping yet again.

“Well, that’s taken care of.” She glanced around. “Where’s Lilith?”

“Here I am,” a silvery voice trilled from the doorway. Raine turned and viewed her mother, dressed in a flowing silk skirt, matching tunic, and ballet slippers with ribbons that laced up her still-shapely calves. The hue—a watercolor swirl of color blending through shades of blue from turquoise to cobalt—was an attractive foil for her silver hair and made her eyes appear even bluer. While not at all businesslike, Lilith’s attire would do, Raine decided. Except for one thing.

“The crystals have to go.” Lilith had obviously gone for broke. Pink and violet amethysts, a smoky quartz interspersed with green tourmaline, amber, and other stones Raine couldn’t recognize hung from her earlobes, adorned her neck, wrists, and, Raine noticed with a glance back down at the ballet slippers, even her ankles.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly go to court without them, darling.” Lilith lifted a hand, which sported a milky crystal the size of Vermont, to the sparkling gems at her throat. “They’re vital for focusing my inner energy.”

Raine tried not to roll her eyes. “I don’t care. I refuse to allow you to enter that courtroom looking like Carlsbad Caverns.”

Lilith’s ruby lips turned downward in a pouty moue. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your mother, Raine.”

“That’s exactly the point. I’m not your daughter today. We can’t admit it to the court, but I’m acting as Gram’s attorney. The deal was that everyone was to do exactly what I say.”

Lilith tilted her head and studied Raine silently. “Well,” she said on a little huff of breath, “far be it from me to impede our defense.” With that, she flounced from the room, returning moments later without the rocks.

“I’m not taking these off, Raine,” she warned as she saw Raine taking in the earrings that had replaced the crystals. The onyx beads on the right earlobe nearly brushed her shoulder while an embossed shining silver replica of a Buddhist prayer wheel hung from the left. “They’re shamanistic. You may not believe in a power higher than you, but the way I see it, Ida and these poor girls are going to need all the help they can get.”

“All right.” They were due in court in fifteen minutes; there was simply no time to argue any further. “But if you’re called to testify, I don’t want you saying a single word about psychic energy, chakras, shamans, vortexes, or any of that other New Age nonsense.”

“I would have expected a daughter of mine to have a more open mind,” Lilith complained.

Not even wanting to get into a discussion about mothers and daughters, Raine merely shook her head, picked up her briefcase, and turned her mind to what it did best—honing her upcoming legal argument.

If Raine was nervous about the importance of this court appearance, she was downright appalled by the way her heart skipped a few vital beats when she viewed Jack O’Halloran standing outside the courtroom, talking with his cousin.

Raine and Dan exchanged a greeting. When he turned away for a brief talk with the group regarding their testimony, Raine had no choice but to acknowledge Jack.

“Good morning, Sheriff.” It took an effort, but she managed to keep her tone professionally brisk even as her heart continued to go pittypat in a most unprofessional way.

“Counselor.” He smiled charmingly. “Sleep well?”

“Absolutely,” she lied.

“It’s the fresh air,” he said. “Makes you sleep like a baby.” Gray eyes skimmed over her in a thoroughly masculine perusal. “Nice suit.” He pushed away from the wall and moved a little closer. “Woman with a suit like that could probably conquer the world.”

He took two more steps forward. Raine took one back. “It’s good for taking on the road. The material is three-seasonal, and the color goes with anything.”

“Mmmm.” He was still looking at her in that silent, thoughtful way. “Gray flannel always makes me think of that old movie,” he said. “With Gregory Peck.”

“I don’t think I know it.” He was close. Too close for comfort. Definitely too close for courthouse propriety.

“
The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit
. Great flick from the fifties and one of Peck’s best. It’s sort of a morality play with a business plot. You should see it some time.”

“I’ll make a point of it,” she said coolly. “What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed when he rubbed her flannel lapel between his thumb and index finger.