Own the Night (6 page)

His tail slowing down, Dax cast a woeful glance at Noah.

“Don’t complain to me. Looks like you’ve met your match, buddy.”

“Okay,” Alana said when she had the mutt’s attention again. “That’s a good boy.” She lowered the biscuit, and Dax filched it from her fingers before she could change her mind.

He settled on his belly in his favorite spot, the braided rug in front of the dormant fireplace, the Milk-Bone snug between his front paws.

With a fond smile, her hands stacked over her chest, Alana watched him as though he were a beloved nephew who could do no wrong. “He’s part Lab, isn’t he?”

“That and border collie, I think, but could be something else thrown in. I got him three years ago from a rancher north of town. He was only a puppy, maybe seven months old, when someone abandoned him. Poor mutt was only skin and bones.”

She looked up, her lips parted, her expression aghast. “I wouldn’t have imagined anyone abandoning animals out here.”

“You kidding me? People can be idiots everywhere.” He saw that he’d shocked her again. Probably his tone. He had a low tolerance for the poor treatment of animals. “The thing about rural communities is that folks tend to feel that animals have to be useful. Not everyone regards a dog or cat as a pet. They have to be able to herd cattle or be good mousers to earn their keep.”

She seemed to mull over the information. “What’s Dax’s purpose?”

Noah should’ve expected that question. “To keep me company.”

Alana’s lips lifted in a slow smile that warmed her eyes. “I knew you were a softy.”

In the nick of time, he stopped himself from uttering a cuss word. “Just what the sheriff of Salina County wants to be called—a softy.”

Laughing, she sat down on the couch again. She’d forgotten to slip on the pajama pants, and he wasn’t about to remind her.

“Did you grow up here?” She huddled under the afghan, drawing it tighter around her shoulders.

“Born and raised on a small ranch about ten miles east of here.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Is it still there?”

“Yep.”

“Why are you living here in town?”

“Do you live with
your
parents?”

“Oh, God.” She visibly shuddered. “The mere thought of living with my mother can make me break out in hives.”

The cop in him snapped to attention. Making unguarded small talk could tell him a lot. “Where does she live?”

“Manhattan.” Alana sighed. “About two miles from me, but we’re both busy so I only see her a couple times a month, usually an hour or so for dinner.”

“What about your father?”

She stared at Dax, who’d finished his bone and was licking crumbs from the rug. “I don’t have one,” she said in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.

For the life of him, Noah couldn’t interpret her subtle mood shift. She didn’t seem angry or sad, precisely, which to his mind ruled out divorce, death and abandonment. So what then? He was good at reading people, but not her, which rekindled his uneasiness, and he wanted to keep her talking. “I see my parents once a week, Sunday dinner, like clockwork,” he offered, watching her closely. “More out of duty than anything else.”

She transferred her attention to him, her brows arching in surprise. “You don’t get along with them?”

“We get along okay.” He shrugged. “We just don’t have that much to talk about.”

“Do you have siblings?”

“Two sisters. One moved to Boise with her family, the other to Billings. That’s why I make sure I get out to the ranch and see the folks, check if they need help.”

“I know Boise. Is Billings in Montana?”

He nodded, looking for any tells but finding none. If she was one of the con artists Sheriff Moran was looking for, she’d know where Billings was. A bigger city would be prime stomping grounds for a grifter. “What about you? Sisters? Brothers?”

“Just me—and of course, my mother.” Pretty clear good ol’ mom wasn’t her favorite person.

“Ever been married?”

She seemed startled at first, and then amused. “I’m a slave to my work. I wouldn’t even be taking a vacation except our offices are being moved so I was forced to leave. And look how well
that
turned out.”

Right then and there Noah decided she wasn’t Moran’s suspect. No reason to try that hard at pretending she was a career woman from Manhattan. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she was a high-powered attorney like Kara. “What do you—”

“Have you ever—”

They both spoke at the same time. He gestured for her to continue, and she asked, “Have you ever been married?”

“Nope.” He caught the hint of a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. “What?”

“I don’t know, I guessed you to be the marrying kind.”

He momentarily considered the notion. “I suppose I am,” he said, and snorted at the way her eyebrows shot up. “Why the surprise?”

“I’m not used to a man admitting it. In my crowd commitment is a four-letter word.”

Watching Dax abandon his search for crumbs and go sniff the carpet near Alana’s feet, Noah shrugged. He wouldn’t mind having someone to come home to, share his day with, warm his bed, but he wasn’t actively trying to make it happen, either.

“Do you, um…” She paused, glancing away long enough to draw his attention back to her face. Her tongue had slipped out to moisten her lips. She quickly pressed them together as she met his gaze. “Have someone in mind?”

Coming from another woman, he’d know what she was thinking, but Alana? Tough call. Before he could answer, her eyes widened, then she let out a yelp and shot up off the couch. And he about jumped out of his skin.

6

“A
LANA
.” N
OAH
WAS
ON
HIS
feet, glancing toward the window, then probing her face. “What’s wrong?”

The afghan slid off her shoulders onto the floor, scaring Dax. The dog darted toward the kitchen, barking his head off.

“Oh, God.” She felt like a fool with Noah standing there, an apprehensive look on his face. Laughter spilled out of her, nervous laughter that made everything worse. Especially when she tried to stop and ended up sounding as if she was in pain.

Noah took her arm. “Alana, calm down,” he said firmly, his grip tightening. He was on full alert, the consummate lawman, his vigilant gaze tracking Dax and then again scanning the darkness beyond the window. “Did you see something out there?”

“No.” She bit her lower lip. “God, this is so incredibly embarrassing. It was Dax....” She took a shuddery breath. “I’m really ticklish, and he licked the…bottom of my foot.” She didn’t want to tell him that Dax’s cold nose had gone between her knees. Although she wasn’t sure why that felt like an embarrassing admission.

Noah studied her face, his gaze narrowing as if he couldn’t decide if he believed her. He moved to the window, peering out into the darkness. The curtains were only partially open and he pulled them closed. “You’re sure someone isn’t following you?”

“Me? Who would be following me?”

“I thought maybe you saw someone outside.” He signaled to the dog, who came to sit beside him.

“I wish I could say I did. My reaction would’ve seemed far more dignified.” Her hand was at her throat and she lowered it, slowly releasing a strangled breath.

Noah’s gaze drifted down for a moment, then jerked back up to her face.

She knew her nipples were hard and obvious through the thin T-shirt. To suddenly cover herself would make matters more awkward. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

His tense mouth softened into a faint smile. “I don’t scare that easily.”

She scooped the afghan off the carpet, then glared at Dax.

“No licking…I mean it. Or no more treats.”

That got his ears up and his tail doing a hopeful wag.

“I have to remember not to say that word,” she added.

Noah briefly met her eyes, guilt flickering in the blue-green depths as if he’d been caught raiding the cookie jar. Or staring at her nipples. He switched his attention to Dax. “You got that, boy?”

Alana had already noticed Noah checking out her breasts again, and her bare legs. She didn’t mind. In fact, his interest was not only flattering, but starting to raise her temperature. “It’s getting late.”

He consulted his watch. “Yeah, almost nine. Don’t want the roosters getting a jump on us.”

“Funny.” She pushed her hair back. “It’s eleven my time.”

“I thought you city women would just be getting revved about now.”

“Not this one. I hit the office early.” Alana plucked at a loose thread from the afghan draped over her arm, wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

He seemed sort of interested in her. Or was he just being friendly? Hell, he was probably just being a guy. Of course he’d
look.
She didn’t want to risk getting tossed out on her ass. Or worse, being shown back to the jail cell. No, he wasn’t the type to do that.

She drew a deep breath. “Honestly, I don’t want to be in the way. If you have a book I could borrow, I can go curl up in my room and leave you to your routine.”

“You aren’t in the way, but I have plenty of fiction and nonfiction if you want to read.” He pushed the drapes aside for another quick look before moving toward the recliner.

“Good, I’ll need something to take to bed with me.” She bit back a smile when he momentarily froze, obviously taking her words the wrong way. “Guess I’d better change.”

“I’ll go make sure Dax has enough water in his bowl.”

She started to go left, and he went right. The living room was small enough that they did a little dance, trying to avoid a collision. Finally, he caught her shoulders and held her still.

“I’m confident we can figure this out,” he said, the humor in his eyes getting to her on a primal level.

She’d thought intense and sexy was a good look for him, and humor was a staple on her wish list, but holy crap… She had to take a moment and regain her composure. She normally wasn’t like this. Even if a man did spark her interest, it was rarely just because of his looks. Even if he did have a sense of humor, her list was a long one, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the sheriff of Tiny Town, Montana, couldn’t fill half of her requirements.

Which might just be the point. She was staying with him for only one night. Even if she didn’t get her things back, she could call her bank tomorrow, make arrangements with the woman at the Sundance.

Besides, Noah Calder was far too observant to miss the cues that she was attracted to him. Just because she hadn’t acted like a twit didn’t mean she was immune. If she was as smart as she thought she was, she’d give it a shot. Take a step closer, see if he responded. If he politely pushed her away, or pretended he didn’t know what she was up to, she’d go hide out in the room until tomorrow.

“Noah?” She clenched and unclenched her fists. For God’s sake, she couldn’t even decide if she should touch him. Who was this person wearing his T-shirt? She was never indecisive or timid.

When he didn’t respond, she forced herself to look into his eyes. Damn the man. She didn’t know a single person who could remain so unreadable.

His hold on her shoulders loosened.

“I just wanted to thank you again,” she said, refusing to break eye contact. She could play that game pretty well, too. Let him try to figure out what she was thinking. Wouldn’t happen.

“Is that all?” His hands moved down her arms slowly, almost like a caress, then rested right above her elbows.

That was playing dirty. Was he daring her? She wanted to blink, wanted to swallow. She did neither. “No, it isn’t.” She stepped closer and laid a palm on his hard-muscled chest.

His only reaction was to grip her arms infinitesimally tighter. Other than that he could have been a statue, his face chiseled from stone. Not even an eyelash flickered, and his lips stayed in a stubborn straight line.

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, and then he released her. Her disappointment had to show, no matter how hard she tried to remain stoic. Then she saw it in his eyes, fleeting as it was—he was disappointed, too. So what the hell?

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a low, intimate murmur. Moving back, he gestured toward the hall. “Please, go ahead.”

It hit her like a double shot of espresso. Now she understood. Someone like Noah wouldn’t abuse his authority or her unfortunate circumstance by coming on to her. She had no such restrictions.

“I’m not done with you,” she said, and reclaimed the distance he’d put between them.

She slid her arms around his neck, then hesitated a second to give him an out. When heat darkened his eyes, she did something she’d never done with a man. She pushed herself up on tiptoes.

He lowered his head and their lips touched, his firm and unyielding at first. And then he slanted his mouth over hers and slowly, expertly kissed her. She felt his hands come up to bracket her waist, felt her aroused nipples grow even harder against the soft cotton T-shirt. His skin was warm, almost hot at the back of his neck, and his rigid body started to relax, until the only thing stiff about him hid behind the fly of his jeans.

He smoothed his hands down to her hips, and she suddenly became aware that, stretched up like this as she was, the bottom half of her butt was exposed. She wore panties—really, really skimpy panties—which he’d soon discover if he lowered his hand just another few inches. Though right now she was far more interested in his increasingly demanding kiss.

He used his tongue first, stroking it across the seam of her lips until she opened for him. The room seemed to spin around her. His tongue delved and swept, and she savored the sweet yet spicy taste of him, the stubble of his jaw and chin grazing her skin. It dawned on her that she’d never before been kissed by a man who wasn’t clean-shaven, and she not only liked the sensation but wondered how it would feel on her breasts.

Beside them Dax whined.

Alana gladly ignored him, but she could feel a shift in Noah. Unwilling for the kiss to end, she clutched his muscled shoulders and let him taste her eagerness. Pulling her closer, he thrust his tongue deeper in her mouth.

Dax, the little bastard, pressed against her leg and whined again.

That did it. The kiss fizzled, and Noah slowly lifted his head.

Alana quietly groaned, dangerously close to throwing a mini tantrum. Except she was far too breathless to expend that kind of energy.

Instead, she pinned the mutt with an accusing glare. “I used to think you were cute.”

Noah touched her cheek, and she realized she’d focused on the dog so she wouldn’t have to look the man in the eyes. Her gaze went to his damp mouth, which did nothing to slow her pounding heart.

“I hadn’t planned on that,” he said, his fingers lowering from her face and trailing past her collarbone and between her breasts.

She shivered, then at his prompt withdrawal, whimpered in protest.

He cleared his throat, let his gaze pan the front of her shirt as he moved back, forcibly shoving his hands into his jeans’ pockets.

“I started it,” she said, when she saw a shadow of regret in his eyes. “I wanted you to kiss me.” She caught his arm. “I wanted to kiss you.”

“I don’t need your gratitude. I’m just doing my job.”

Alana laughed without humor. “I know how to say a simple thank-you. That had nothing to do with gratitude.”

Almost as though he couldn’t help himself, he slid his gaze to her chest. He was still hard, and she wished she had the nerve to pull her shirt off, tempt him into breaking down. In different circumstances, she would’ve been okay with that tactic. But she was out of her element and uncomfortable being at someone else’s mercy, someone she couldn’t quite gauge. She liked knowing her opponent before taking action.

His forearm was rock hard beneath her palm, and when she knew there was no budging him, she moved in closer. She traced a small circle on his skin, then followed the ridge of muscle up toward his elbow, and bumped his hip with hers.

She heard his sharp inhalation, and was pleased when he pulled his hand from his pocket. Alana pressed her palm against his and then brought his hand down to the hem of her shirt. It wasn’t necessary to show him what she wanted; he reached underneath and covered her bare breast with his large, callused palm.

Her eyes drifted closed, every part of her springing to life, aching for his touch.

“This isn’t right,” he murmured hoarsely. “Jesus.” His lips brushed hers and his fingers toyed with her nipple.

Gasping, she pressed against him, empowered by his rekindled arousal. She managed to unfasten two buttons of his uniform shirt, enough so that she could slip her hand inside and feel the smooth warm skin over lean muscle.

He muttered a mild oath. “This is wrong.” He jerked when she dragged the back of her other hand across his fly. “You’re in my custody.”

“Custody?” she echoed with a laugh. “Are we role playing?”

His entire body tensed, and she knew even before he removed his hand from under her shirt that her hope of a forbidden night with a stranger had just crashed and burned.

“I’m only teasing,” she said, lightly stroking his belly.

He manacled her wrist and firmly pulled her hand away. “I’m an ass,” he said. “An apology isn’t good enough, but it’s all I’ve got.”

“Noah, no…”

He moved far enough away that it was clear there would be no repeat of the last few minutes. Then he totally ignored her while checking the front door lock and pulling the curtains tighter.

She bent to pick up the afghan, and when she straightened, he and Dax were already headed toward the kitchen. A few seconds later she heard the back door slam.

Alana didn’t understand his stupid code, not even a little, because it wasn’t as though he was responsible for her in any way. The hell with him. Let him go freeze his buns outside and smooch his dog if that’s what he wanted. Because she sure as hell wasn’t about to beg.

* * *

N
OAH
FILLED
HIS
MUG
WITH
coffee, then leaned against the kitchen counter and listened. It was early in the morning but he knew she was awake. She’d left the bathroom a few minutes ago and returned to her room. The 1920s house was too small for much privacy.

He still couldn’t get over the fact that he’d kissed her last night, had been willing to go further. Served him right that he hadn’t fallen asleep until after two-thirty. Instead, he’d lain awake, waffling between wanting to pull that goddam T-shirt off her, and disgusted with himself for getting physical in the first place.

Man, she had nice breasts. Perfect legs. She was whip smart, too, and had a sense of humor. All ingredients that made for a good scam artist…or a New York exec. He still didn’t know what she did in the city, or claimed to do. His subtle questioning had gotten sidetracked. Maybe by design on her part. Who the hell knew at this point?

After he’d convinced himself that she was innocent, simply a victim of circumstance and coincidence, she’d poked a hole in his confidence. Alana had claimed Dax had tickled her, and God knew the dog had a penchant for licking, but Noah could swear her reaction came after she’d been peering at the window. It wouldn’t be a stretch to consider her partner might’ve followed her.

On the other hand, Noah’s gut was telling him that she wasn’t the grifter. Which meant that someone in his town had stolen her belongings.

Dax finished the last of his kibble, trotted to the door, sat and stared at Noah to let him out.

“I don’t know, boy.” Sighing, Noah opened the door. “Hate to admit that at my age I’m still thinking with my dick.”

The mutt apparently didn’t have an opinion. He darted outside, hot on the trail of a fleeting red-tailed-hawk shadow.