Own the Night (5 page)

“Comes with the job, too?”

“I’ve never put it to the test, but I doubt I’d have any say.”

“A smart man knows when to back off.”

“Amen.” He smiled, replacing the last of her discomfort with a vivid awareness of how much she wanted to trace the groove in his cheek with her fingertip.

She kept her hands to herself and walked past him into the house. Despite the awkward situation, she liked Noah, especially when he loosened up. It would’ve been such a shame if he was pretty but had no personality.

Although it was still light out, the sun was setting on the west side of the house and most of the living room was cast in shadow. He flipped a switch and two brass lamps, one sitting on each side of the tan leather couch, produced a soft yellow glow. The floor was old and wooden; the walls painted a pale eggshell. The only color that livened up the place was from a pair of braided rugs, one in front of the couch and the other before the stone fireplace that spanned most of the wall.

“I haven’t done much with the place yet,” he murmured, flipping on a hall switch. “As you can see.”

“How long have you lived here?”

He took off his hat and rubbed his hair, wincing a little. “A while. The kitchen is over there.” He motioned vaguely past an oak table with four chairs and matching china hutch. “Both the fridge and pantry are stocked with the basics. I’ll show you the guest room.”

He led the way, which she appreciated, since it would take a minute for her to get tired of admiring his backside and long lean legs. His boots sported an inch heel, but not because he needed the boost. “How tall are you?” The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was going to say.

Noah stopped and glanced at her with a faint expression of amusement. “Six-four.” Then he looked at her feet. “You’re pretty tall yourself. Even without those heels.”

“I like being tall.”

“Good thing.” He smiled, probably because she’d sounded defensive, though why she had was a mystery to her. “I hope the bed is comfortable enough for you.”

She followed his gaze into the small bedroom with the same eggshell-colored walls. The floor was carpeted in dark beige, and the blue gingham curtains looked homemade, as did the navy-and-brown patchwork quilt covering the double bed.

“It’s better than the cell you tried to stick me in.” Wishing she had her luggage with her, Alana sighed. “My life is in that purse.”

“You should cancel your credit cards.” He dug in his pocket. “Use my phone.”

She stared at the black cell phone in his hand, trying to remember which cards were in her wallet. What a nightmare. Alana prided herself on being in control, on top of every aspect of her life. No matter how many balls were in the air, she caught each and every one. In her position at Giles and Reese Advertising, she was both envied and feared. She liked being that person. She’d actively cultivated the image of superwoman, of someone to be reckoned with. Right now she felt like a damn child.

“Thanks,” she said, accepting the phone with all the enthusiasm of someone facing a trip to the dentist. Feeling foolish she could handle—not with total aplomb, but she could suck it up. What she couldn’t handle was the stupid emotion snowballing in her chest. Where the hell was that coming from? Other than being tired and hungry and hating feeling helpless…

“Look.” He touched her arm. “You need food and probably a stiff drink.”

“Maybe more than the food,” she murmured, her voice whisper-thin and embarrassingly shaky. She cleared her throat, tried again. “You wouldn’t happen to have phone numbers for American Express and Visa, would you?”

He took her jacket from over her arm and tossed it on the bed. Then he put his hands on her shoulders, propelled her out of the room and down the hall toward the living room.

“What are you doing?” She tried to turn around, but he held firmly until he got her to the couch.

“Sit.”

“I thought—”

He wasn’t rough, but he made sure her ass hit the seat. “I’m gonna scramble a couple of eggs and make toast, just so you have something in your stomach. I’ll even get you that whiskey I promised.” He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a small notebook, tore off a page and gave it to her with a pen. “Call directory assistance, get the numbers you need. Make your calls.”

“What about picking up some toiletries?”

“Eat first.”

Alana gave orders; she rarely took them. His bossiness was enough to put the bone back in her spine. “I don’t like my eggs scrambled.”

Noah had already started for the kitchen. He slowly turned to meet her gaze. “Alana?”

“What?”

“You’re welcome,” he said, and winked.

5

N
OAH
PULLED
A
COUPLE
T-
SHIRTS
out of his dresser drawer. The white one was still in the package, and the black long-sleeve he’d worn once, but it was freshly laundered. He figured he’d let her decide if she wanted to wear either one to sleep in or while she was hanging around the house.

It was only six-fifty, but Abe’s Variety had closed early this evening because Abe had to drive to Billings to pick up more Halloween decorations. Fall and winter retail hours were always hit-and-miss in Blackfoot Falls. The Watering Hole and Marge’s Diner were the only establishments anyone could count on being open past dark.

“Knock knock.”

He looked up.

Alana stood at his open bedroom door. Or rather, she was lounging against the door frame, her head tilted at a fetching angle, her hair tousled around her face. He’d be willing to swear on a stack of Bibles he hadn’t meant to get her tipsy. But with so little food in her belly, he supposed he should’ve put the bottle away after her second glass of whiskey.

“It’s for you,” she said, holding out his cell phone, and then primly covered a yawn.

He promptly crossed the room to take the device. The ring must’ve woken her. She’d been nodding off when he left her on the couch. “Sheriff Calder.” He went back for the T-shirts and handed them to her. “Yeah, Roy. She’s staying with me.”

Noah took in her confused frown as she shook out the black shirt, and she looked so cute with her nose wrinkled that he momentarily lost track of the conversation. When the deputy asked him what the hell was going on, he said, “Let me get back to you, and let Cole know I’ll call him later.”

“What’s this?” she asked, her brown eyes sleepy and unfocused.

He slipped the cell phone into his breast pocket. “Something to sleep in until we get to the store tomorrow.”

“I thought we were going today.”

“It’s too late. They’re closed.”

She studied her watch. “Oh my, it’s almost eight. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“Only for a few minutes. We’re on mountain time here, which is seven.” Interesting that her watch wasn’t set on East Coast or Montana time. Either one could’ve supported her story that she was a tourist who’d flown in earlier today.

“Oh, I turned it back when I arrived here. I don’t know why I set it on Central Time.” She slipped the gold watch off her slim wrist and squinted at the face as she fumbled with trying to change the time.

“Here.” He took the Rolex from her, gauged the heaviness in his hand. Solid gold; the trademark crown was in the right spot; the second hand didn’t hesitate. It was the real thing, and set an hour ahead. He changed the time and returned the watch to her.

“Thank you.” She smiled groggily and pressed the black shirt to her cheek. “It’s soft. Are these yours?”

The innocent gesture of her rubbing her cheek against the cotton did something funny to the inside of his chest. Maybe because with her guard down and the sleepiness in her eyes she seemed different, softer, sexier. It had nothing to do with the way her blouse gaped, allowing him a glimpse of pink lace and pale skin. Sure, he’d looked, by accident and only for a second.

“Yeah, the white one is brand-new,” he said unnecessarily, indicating the package. “The other is freshly laundered.” He moved closer to her and the door, hoping she’d get the hint and leave his bedroom.

She stayed put, her head and shoulder supported by the door frame, and smiled dazedly. “You’re not just gorgeous, you can be very nice when you want to.”

Noah exhaled sharply, gave her a small tap and pointed down the hall. “You still hungry? Marge’s will be open for another hour.”

Straightening, Alana seemed to regain her senses. “No, the eggs and toast were perfect. What about you? Because we could go out if you want, or I could wait here....”

“I’m good.” He herded her toward the living room, unsure why her standing at his bedroom door bothered him. Maybe because he never brought women home with him. Salina County seemed to shrink to the size of an acorn when it came to folks’ noses being everywhere, even behind closed doors.

When he got the itch for some female companionship, he headed over to Twin Creek Crossing in the next county. Tanya, the afternoon waitress at Sully’s, was pretty and willing and never expected more than dinner, some conversation and a warm body.

Alana stopped short and pointed. “That’s the bathroom.”

He nodded. “The house is old so there’s only one.” It was also tiny and the turquoise walls damn near gave him a headache. How many times had he told himself he’d slap on a coat of neutral paint? “I laid out fresh towels for you.”

“Thanks. I’d love a shower. Unless you need to…” She gestured awkwardly.

“Go ahead.” He flipped the light switch on for her. “I meant to ask—do you have a problem with dogs?”

“Me? No, I like dogs. As long as they don’t slobber all over me.”

“Dax is out back. I bring him in at night.” Noah smiled as he walked off. “I’ll remind him not to slobber.”

“Cute,” she said drily, and then closed the bathroom door.

He waited until he heard the shower start, and then took out his cell phone. After a discussion with Roy about the investigation, and a warning to keep his mouth shut about Alana, Noah called Cole McAllister.

“Figured I wouldn’t hear from you for a week,” Cole said by way of greeting.

“I knew you’d give me shit.” Noah decided he was off duty, and grabbed a glass from the kitchen cupboard, along with the bottle of whiskey. “What did Roy tell you?”

“You have a hostage situation.”

“Yeah, me.” He poured himself two fingers worth, put the bottle away and headed for the back door, while Cole got in a couple digs. Noah supposed he deserved it, after all the crap he’d given Cole for hooking up with a Sundance guest two months ago and then chasing her all the way to California. “You done?”

“Until I think of something else.” Cole chuckled. “What’s going on? Roy wasn’t making much sense.”

Noah pushed open the screen door. Roy shouldn’t have said anything about county business, but he knew Cole and Jesse McAllister were like brothers to Noah, and Roy tended to be looser lipped around them. Still, they’d have to be careful about accusing Alana of anything.

“What I tell you has to stay between you and me,” Noah said. “Of course you can say something to Jesse if the need arises, but nothing to Rachel.”

“All right.”

Dax had apparently heard his voice and came bounding out of the little house Noah had built for the border collie mix. “Easy, boy.” Noah almost lost his drink. “Wait a second,” he told Cole, and set the glass on the redwood picnic table he never used. “Sorry, I needed a free hand.” He made sure the bathroom light was still on before he explained the whole story to his friend.

“It’s a hell of a coincidence, her showing up like that,” Cole said.

“Yeah. And hard to believe nobody saw her luggage being lifted or that someone would be that bold.” Noah stroked Dax’s head. “I don’t know…I got a weird feeling about her.”

“Gotta go with your gut.”

“Yep, that’s what I’m doing. The thing is, I can’t have Rachel offering to put her up.” Noah went on to explain, while he sipped his whiskey and threw a ball for Dax until the bathroom light went off.

Then he disconnected and took the mutt through the back door with him. He stopped in the kitchen, washed out his glass and left it on the rack to dry.

Dax obviously knew they had a visitor, and took off around the corner. Noah called him back, heard his short bark, then heard Alana say, “Oh, aren’t you a handsome boy.”

Noah left the kitchen and found her in the living room bent on one knee, petting Dax, who seemed determined to lick her chin. She seemed equally resolute in not letting him, straining backward until he’d nearly knocked her over.

She wore Noah’s long-sleeved black T-shirt, and no pants. His heart lurched. He hadn’t even considered digging up a pair of sweats, though come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he owned any. All he ever wore were jeans.

“Dax, come here.”

She gamely said, “He’s fine.” Even as the dog took a sloppy swipe at her averted chin.

“Dax,” Noah said sternly. “Come.”

The mournful mutt’s tail stopped wagging and he dutifully reported to Noah’s side.

She was all legs…smooth, toned legs. While tugging at the hem of the shirt, Alana braced a palm on the wall and slowly drew herself up. The fabric ended high on her thigh.

Noah realized he should’ve offered her a hand, but he was so distracted by the expanse of creamy skin that he didn’t trust himself. And here she was worried about Dax slobbering all over her.

“I see the shirt fits,” Noah muttered lamely, sucking in a breath when he noticed something else. No bra. Nice high, full breasts. Oh, hell.

“Yes, thanks.” She glanced down. “It’s even longer than I expected.”

Not long enough.
Or thick enough. Not for his peace of mind. He backed up, massaged the tense muscle at the side of his neck. Tried everything in his power to keep his eyes above her shoulders. “I just remembered I might have a pair of flannel sleep pants.”

She folded her arms across her breasts, fairly nonchalant about her sudden shift in position, but he had a feeling she was uncomfortable. He just hoped it had nothing to do with his reaction. “I wouldn’t turn them down,” she said. “It’s a bit cool.”

“I’ll go check.” He couldn’t wait to escape to his bedroom before she saw that he was getting hard. Maybe she already had, though he didn’t think so. He’d purposely bent over to pet Dax.

Hell, he was too old for his cock to be surprising him like that. He dug deep in his lower dresser drawer and came up empty. When it was warm he slept in boxers, and during the colder months he practically lived in long johns. She’d have to be desperate for him to offer her a pair of those things. They were old and needed replacing.

But he remembered a Christmas gift that he’d never worn, and kept rooting around until he found it on his closet shelf still in the box. Blue-and-green-plaid sleep pants, medium-weight wool with a drawstring waist, or so advertised. They’d cover her legs. That would do both of them a world of good.

Thinking about where the T-shirt hem hit her midthigh, exposing those sleek toned legs, had him stopping in the bathroom on the way back. He remembered her hard nipples poking at the soft thin cotton, and splashed ice-cold water on his face. God help him, he supposed it could’ve been worse had she chosen the white shirt.

He waited until he felt reasonably under control and then joined her in the living room. She was sitting on the couch, her legs curled up under her while she cooed in a soft, melodic voice to Dax. The mutt’s admiring gaze was planted on her face and didn’t so much as waver with Noah’s approach.

“You’ll probably have to roll them up.” He started to hand her the box, but then pulled the package out and shrugged. “A Christmas present from my mom.”

“I see it was a big hit.”

Noah smiled wryly, noting with both relief and regret that she’d taken the brown afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You have a fan.”

She grinned at Dax. “I told him I’d ask you if it was okay to give him a treat.”

The mutt’s ears perked up.

“Oops. Guess I should’ve spelled it.”

“He has quite a vocabulary, especially when he wants something.” Noah made himself comfortable on the recliner. “Now you’ve gotta come through. The Milk-Bone jar’s on the kitchen counter.”

She glanced in that direction. “Do you suppose he’ll forgive me if I go put these bottoms on first?”

“What do you think?”

Alana narrowed her eyes at Dax, whose gaze remained locked on her face. “I think he has a long memory, something I’d do well to remember.”

“You’re quick.”

“Apparently, not quick enough.” She carefully swung her feet to the floor, making sure the afghan was strategically placed in front of her.

Noah was a bastard for making her get up. He could’ve brought her the doggie treat, but he wanted another look at those legs before she covered them with that ugly blue plaid thing. Totally unprofessional of him, but he figured he could’ve been a worse bastard by not giving her the pants at all.

“Are you still on duty?” she asked, heading to the kitchen with Dax close on her heels.

Damn. The traitorous mutt blocked a good part of Noah’s view. “No. Why?”

“You’re still wearing your uniform shirt.” She disappeared into the kitchen, and then he heard her lift the lid to the ceramic jar. “Do you make him sit first?”

“Yup. But he’ll try to snatch it from your fingers at the last minute.”

She emerged from the kitchen, treat in hand, Dax in tow. The afghan was still draped over her shoulders, but didn’t cover her entire chest or any part of her legs. Her calves were nicely shaped as though she might be a runner; even her slim ankles and peach-tipped toes suited him. Hard to tell if this was his punishment or reward.

She stopped, one palm on her hip while she stared sternly at Dax. “Are you going to sit for me?”

He dropped his butt to the floor.

When she lowered her hand, Dax started to lunge, and she jerked back the treat. “No, you don’t. You sit pretty, mister.”

Noah should’ve known better than to think she’d be a pushover. The whiskey had mellowed her, but the effect had to be wearing off. She seemed more like the woman who’d first walked into his office. Minus a whole bunch of clothes. And looking mighty damn fine.

His body tightened, and he shifted, hoping his jeans wouldn’t get snug on him again. This made no stinking sense. He didn’t lose control this way around women, hadn’t since he’d been a teenager, and least of all with a potential suspect. The only thing he could figure was that deep down he was relieved she wasn’t like the rest of the ladies who’d been staying at the Sundance.

There was no sport in them throwing themselves at him. Even Trace, the youngest of the McAllister brothers, who’d always been a bit of a hound dog, seemed to be getting tired of all the fanfare. Rachel was the culprit, slanting her website to cater to single women.