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  Once again, he sputtered. If she kept this up, he’d be squirtin’ coffee from his nose like some damned circus performer.

  Oblivious…or, more likely, uncaring…she pressed on. “Now that little JJ, she’s a fine piece.

  Just missed her as a matter of fact. She was in here not too long ago with Ginny and her boy. Only been in here a few times, but I can tell,” Maggie shot him a wink, flicking the end of the towel in his direction,

  “that girl’s got spunk…and she’s beautiful as those paintings of hers, too. Heard June’s gonna ask her to donate a piece or two for the charity auction next month. Big name like hers ought to draw some money.” She eyed him for a shrewd moment, then murmured slyly, “Won’t be long before certain other males I know start beatin’ a path to her door.” Males…not just men.

  Point taken. A wild rush of jealous possessiveness surged through him at the very 148

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  thought. Then he snapped a perceptive gaze over his shoulder, toward the hardware store. As far as anyone else knew, he’d only been to see JJ on official business. He’d hardly even batted an eyelash in her direction. Now here Maggie was, next thing to dragging them off to the altar. Purposefully provoking his relentless instincts…tossing an unsuspecting JJ out there like a virgin sacrifice.

  What would JJ say if she knew half the town was trying to feed her to the wolves…literally?

  He chewed his next bite in silence, well aware of the speculative looks the other patrons were shooting him. It irritated him to admit it, but Maggie had made a good point…several actually. It was high time he settled down. He could be content going on the way things were, but content didn’t mean happy. And, if he were being honest, JJ called to him on an elemental, pagan level. Everything about her drew him in. By the acceleration in her heartbeat whenever he got close and the increase in her pheromones, he knew she wasn’t adverse to him either.

  As long as he was being honest, he might as well admit he suspected she might very well be his mate.

  He couldn’t seem to stay away from her. The way he’d been behaving…the jealous possessiveness, the nearly uncontrollable animalistic attraction

  …certainly pointed in that direction.

  Like a flashing, neon sign in Vegas.

  Why was he fighting this so hard? He’d been resisting the very cornerstone of his nature.

  Squaring his shoulders, he pushed to his feet, tossed a fold of cash on the counter beside his plate, and stalked to the door without another word to any of them. He was a man on a mission.

  It was high time he tracked his female down and set matters straight.

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  Chapter 12

  JJ tugged her jacket off, juggling her keys as she flipped lights on, chasing darkness away from the hallway first, then the parlor. Humming, she dropped the jacket on the back of the rocker and bent to remove her boots.

  The air had taken on a distinctive chill tonight.

  She hadn’t worried about it when she’d left this afternoon, but the bite of it nipped at her now. She didn’t waste any time before plugging in the small space heater she’d purchased from Ginny yesterday.

  As many times as she’d been to Ginny’s store this last few days alone, she may as well have gotten a job there. Maybe she’d be able to get an employee discount.

  Her quick trip into the store today had lengthened into several hours. She’d only intended to stop for mulch, but she’d ended up going to Maggie’s for an early supper with Ginny and Tanner. Tanner was a pure delight. As they’d strolled the short distance to the diner and settled into a booth, he’d regaled JJ with a play-by-play accounting of his little league game earlier in the week. With a seven-year-old’s vivid attention to detail, his freckled face glowing, he’d told her of the umpire with hair sprouting from his nose, who’d popped not one but two buttons from his uniform as he bent to declare Andy Gifford safe.

  At the diner, they’d drawn quite the crowd, and, for the most part, she hadn’t minded a bit…again, another oddity for her. Brandi had been as friendly and as efficient as ever. Maggie had even come out of 150

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  the kitchen for a warm hello. Jim from the Post Office had been there. He was nice enough…maybe a little too nice. Did the man have a clue how thick he was laying it on? Really, that much testosterone in one man ought to be illegal. At the very least, it should come with a warning label.

  Caution…testosterone known to cause brain damage, retreat with all due haste.

  Then one of the local preachers, one Reverend Mathias, had come round to introduce himself and offer her a personal invitation to join his congregation. At first, she’d given it serious consideration, but then he’d creeped her out a bit when he’d climbed up on his proverbial soap box and started spouting an impromptu sermon on temptations of the flesh and sins of the father…whatever that had been about.

  She’d also met a few other, less-offensive fellow diners. Jarvis English, the town’s only doctor and Fulwick County’s Medical Examiner, made her acquaintance. He was very gracious, possessed a wicked sense of humor, and was very handsome. The other had been Doug Weston, a shy and unassuming insurance agent and member of the city council. He’d turned ten shades of red when she’d smiled at him and held her hand out for him to shake. It had been kind of…well, kind of cute.

  JJ made her way down the hallway, back toward the kitchen, humming a new, upbeat melody she’d caught over the radio on the way home. A nice, steaming mug of tea, or maybe hot chocolate would be the perfect way to end the night. She snagged the teakettle, thrust it beneath the tap, and hissed a ripe curse as water sprayed from a loose fitting on the faucet handle.

  Holy crap. Couldn’t she have one day…just one…without these nasty little surprises. Well, she’d probably asked for it buying the house like she had.

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  Things like this were an annoyance, but she didn’t regret them.

  She might curse them…but, a tiny part of her, also reveled in them.

  Right now, that reveling part of her was tiny indeed.

  One hand thrust forward in a defensive maneuver, cupping the spray to minimize saturation. The other fumbled, jerking a drawer open, yanking out a stack of hand towels. Piling them on top of the faucet, thereby containing the shower of water, she stepped back, using a spare towel to mop at her drenched face and dripping hair, blotting at her shirt.

  Brilliant.

  She had to shut the water off. Oh, Lord, let there be a shut-off valve up here. She hadn’t been into the basement more than once, and she sure as certain didn’t want to have to go down there right now. In the dark. Alone. The very thought sent a chill rippling through her.

  Getting down on her knees, she tugged the cabinet doors beneath the sink open. Cursing softly beneath her breath, she leaned to the side and dug in another drawer. There it was. The flashlight she’d found when she’d went to search for her gun…in the bright light of day, of course. Thank heavens she’d found both. Clicking the flashlight on, she aimed the bright beam into the dark corners beneath the sink and then thrust her head into the opening. Thank you, Lord…shut-off valves.

  She propped the flashlight on a can of Comet, stretching her arm into the opening until her fingers grasped the valve. It wouldn’t budge. Gritting her teeth, she used two hands and twisted with all her might.

  Her hands slipped off the valve at the exact same moment the doorbell emitted its sickly wail.

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  Already off balance, JJ jumped, slamming her forehead against the edge of the cabinet. A sharp stab of pain lanced its way across her scalp. Sucking in a sharp breath between clenched teeth, she rocked back on her knees, her palm pressed to her forehead, and the goose egg forming there. The leaking faucet no longer held her attention. The doorbell faded into nothing.

  She fumbled the vase in palms damp with sweat and blood, her mind screaming des
perate prayers.

  The white crockery stayed in her hands, its blue, hand-painted flowers and vines remained intact, while a ragged whisper of relieved breath slipped past her bloodied lips. Vision was becoming more difficult as the swelling around her right eye increased. The fear coursing through her veins kept the pain in her face and body manageable…for now.

  Water sloshed onto the shiny floor, and the lush spray of yellow tulips—Sarah’s favorites—spilled from the delicate vase. JJ’s fearful gaze swerved to the stairs behind her. Her heart lodged in the back of her throat.

  The sounds of movement on the landing below arrested. The harsh echo of his breath in the darkness ceased.

  She caught her own breath, biting down hard on her swollen, split lip. Dead silence fell over the house.

  Only the incessant ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer echoed through the unnatural stillness.

  Then the bottom step creaked. Slow and easy.

  Assured.

  Oh, no. No, no, no. Not yet. Please not yet…

  “JJ?” A familiar deep voice broke into her awareness. A large, warm hand cupped the back of her shoulder with immeasurable gentleness. “JJ, are you all right?”

  A terrified shriek tore from her throat, and she jerked away, scuttling back toward the stove on 153

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  heels and wobbly arms.

  “Whoa!” He backed up a step, holding both hands up, palms out. “It’s all right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Your door was open, and the light was on, but you didn’t answer the doorbell. I was worried…”

  Dropping her butt to the floor, she pressed the heel of her palm to her heaving chest, struggling to subdue her racing heart and slow her bursting lungs. Gasping, she clapped the other hand over her mouth.

  Pull it together, JJ. You’re making a fool of yourself.

  Using the stove for leverage, she dragged herself to her feet. The sheriff moved to help her, but she thrust a warning palm at him, cautioning him to keep his distance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…I, I’m sorry.

  You startled me…I didn’t hear you come in.” Of course. It had to be him. The sexier-than-should-be-legal sheriff of Bossyville. His bright-eyed, emerald gaze swept over her, making her uncomfortably aware that she looked like a bedraggled participant in a wet T-shirt contest.

  Glancing down at herself, she grimaced. The waves of heat from the space heater hadn’t yet reached the kitchen…and it showed. Crossing her arms over her chest, heat climbing her neck to fill her cheeks, she stared him down, brazening it out.

  She wouldn’t even let herself think about the fact that he’d seen her scars…at least, some of them.

  The muscle in his jaw leaped to life beneath the dark shadow of whisker stubble as he dragged his smoldering gaze up to her face. Burning every inch of her on the way. Then she got the full impact of him. She caught her breath, scars and embarrassment completely forgotten. She’d thought he’d looked good enough to eat that first morning in the diner in stained jeans and dusty T-shirt. When 154

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  he’d come to see about the broken lock on her shed, in clean jeans and T-shirt, he’d been a girl’s dream.

  Tonight—in uniform—he was walking carnal sin. And the look in his eyes…

  Despite her recent fright, she couldn’t suppress the shiver of awareness. His smoldering stare was intoxicating.

  “Are you all right?” He lowered his hands, taking a cautious step forward. “You’re still as white as a sheet. What happened?”

  Dragging in a deep breath, she recalled the reason she’d been under the sink in the first place.

  Refused to think about the flashback at all. She could almost hear Dr. Greene’s voice droning in the back of her head. “This is a classic symptom of denial, Jillian. ”

  Only Dr. Greene and Gloria ever called her Jillian. It drove her crazy. Then again, now that she thought about it, perhaps it was more their tone than the actual name itself that bothered her.

  “I’m fine. The faucet’s not. It’s spraying water everywhere. There’s a shut-off valve under the sink,” she muttered, forcing her legs to move. “But I can’t quite get it to—”

  He’d taken another step closer, bending at the same time to look beneath the sink as well. Her forehead thumped his. He straightened, strong arms shooting out to steady her. JJ rocked back, cupping her throbbing head, groaning. The man had a head like a chunk of granite.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I will be…as soon as Tweety finishes his song and dance around my head.”

  “Here, sit down,” he insisted guiding her to a chair. “Let me see.” His hands captured hers, pushing them away from her injury. His brow wrinkled as he examined her head. “That’s a nasty 155

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  bump.”

  He didn’t wait for confirmation, didn’t bother to ask her preference. He moved away, a blur of motion, and she closed her eyes to keep the room from tilting. A moment later, after much painful clatter, he was back, pressing something very cold and very hard to her head. She leaned away, hissing her displeasure, but the compress followed.

  “Here, now,” he murmured, cupping the back of her neck in his free hand, holding her steady. Her eyes popped open as he dropped to his knees before her. A worried frown creased his brow. Instinctively, she parted her knees so he could lean closer as he held the compress in place.

  He was so close now she couldn’t miss the baby-fine scar at the edge of his left eyebrow, or the way his jewel-green eyes glittered with concern. His skin was sun-kissed. What would the stubble on his jaw feel like if it rasped against her collarbone? His shoulders and chest were so broad they filled her vision completely. His hands on her were gentle, yet unrelenting, his fingers soothing tiny circles on the nape of her neck. His scent…woodsy, crisp, and oh-so-masculine…surrounded her. The warmth radiating from him tempted her to press closer, to ease the ache in her breasts.

  His lips were smooth and sensual, parted slightly with the lingering freshness of double-mint gum. They pulled her like a magnet. She moistened her suddenly dry lips, squirming uncomfortably on her seat, and his hips slipped farther into the cradle of her thighs.

  He went utterly still. Chest frozen, fingers motionless, no breath escaping his lips. She tore her gaze reluctantly from his mouth, locking onto his eyes. He looked stunned, sucker-punched. His eyes dilated right before her startled gaze, black all but engulfing emerald.

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  That same, mesmerizing stare he’d leveled her with zeroed in on her mouth now, completely devastating in its intensity. A long shuddering breath escaped him. The fingers cupping her neck tightened. Not enough to hurt her, but strong enough that she knew there would be no escape unless he wished it.

  Letting her go looked to be the last thing on his mind.

  He was going to kiss her. He was going to kiss her…and she wanted him to, wanted it more than her next breath. Oh no, oh no, oh no…

  She panicked, rearing away from him until her back slammed against the chair. Spell broken, he recoiled, thrusting the compress into her hands.

  Muttering to himself, he moved back to the open cabinet, squatted down, and reached beneath the sink. In less time than it took her to recover her equilibrium and regain her feet, he had the valves twisted off and the faucet in pieces on the counter.

  Wiping his hands on a discarded towel, he swiveled to face her.

  “You won’t be able to use the sink till the faucet is replaced, the insides are rusted clean through, and the fittings are cracked.” She wobbled on her feet, still floored by her unexpected longing, but before she could thank him for the assistance with the valve, he steamrolled ahead. “I’m pullin’ the night shift tonight, but I’ll stop off at the hardware store and pick up a new faucet in the morning. I’ll be over first thing.”

  She was still sputtering when he tossed the towel aside and caught her head between his large palms. Tilti
ng her head toward the light, he examined her injury. “You didn’t break the skin, but that’s a pretty good sized goose egg. You need to be more careful. Don’t take on projects you don’t know how to handle, you could seriously hurt yourself.” 157

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  “Look, Sheriff—”

  “Cam.”

  Irritated now, she batted his hands away, backing up a step. Of all the nerve. How dare he come barreling in here, as if he owned the place, tear apart her faucet, and then chastise her as if she were some child in need of guidance. So what if he’d been helpful with the valve, solicitous with the compress.

  He was overbearing and conceited and…

  “Cam, what are you doing here?”

  “Ah…” He stepped away from her, clearing his throat. “I, ah… I figured I should check back…see if you found anything else missing, or if you’d had any more trouble.”

  Her mind circled back to the bear…and the wolf.

  “No…no trouble, except…”

  Frowning, he stepped closer. “Except what?” She hesitated a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to put the wolf in danger—now she realized that’s what it was—after all, it had saved her. At first, given its tameness, she’d assumed it was just a dog, a very, very large dog. Like a hybrid mix roughly the size of a mastiff…or a Shetland pony. But the face and size had finally clued her in. She’d researched it on the internet, and had been shocked to realize she’d not only come face-to-face with a black bear, but she’d also wrestled on the ground—and been licked on the face and neck—by a full grown, wild wolf…a natural born predator.

  What a glorious creature he’d been, with a luxuriant, golden coat and eyes like… She stared into Cam’s eyes, blinked, and peered closer. It had to have been a trick of the light that night, because she could have sworn the wolf’s eyes had been this exact shade of green. But that was impossible, wasn’t it?