2000 Kisses (13 page)

G
ut wrenched.

That was how T.J. felt as he took in Tess's mile-long legs. His head tilted slowly as he lingered over the sight of her slender waist and the thrust of high, full breasts.

Desire plugged him dead center at his chest.

He was an officer of the law, dammit. He was a friend of her brother's and he'd given his promise to protect her.

But he was a man first.

T.J. doubted any man this side of death could have looked away from the woman before him. His hand was still outstretched, gun level. It took an immense force of will to drag in a breath, force his hand back down to his side, and slide his gun into its holster.

“What was that for?” Tess asked hoarsely.

“I couldn't find you. I was worried.” T.J. tried to ignore the filmy strip of lace stretched across her breasts. He wondered what would happen if that lace happened to slide down an inch or two.

Get a grip, McCalL

But he didn't turn away, and he couldn't stop wondering.

Gut wrenched and no mistake.

“I'm trying to dress here. I'd appreciate it if you
would leave,” Tess said, two angry spots of color in her face.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “That is, I didn't mean—” T.J shook his head, fighting for sanity. He took a step backward a split second before the door slammed in his face.

Very smooth, McCalL Point a gun on her, why don't you?

He took a harsh breath. “You okay in there?”

He heard the sound of running water, followed by the rustle of clothing. “Oh, I'm just wonderful. I happen to love it when men bang open the door while I'm half-naked and stick a revolver in my face.”

“It was a Smith and Wesson double-action automatic. No one in law enforcement uses revolvers anymore. Can't get enough rounds off fast enough for safety. They also have a dangerous tendency to jam.”

“Oh, do forgive me. That makes this all
entirely
different.” The door jerked open. Tess charged out, hands on her hips, fully dressed now.

Dear sweet heaven, how she was dressed. Her clingy little dress nudged the middle of her thighs and outlined every curve. At the moment it was definitely burning a path into his neural network. “Nice dress,” he drawled.

“Forget the dress.” Something whipped him across the face and drifted onto his shoulder. Blinking, he looked down and saw it was the lace she had been holding against her chest.

A garter belt. A white lace garter belt with tiny pink roses.

T.J. tried hard to swallow as the lace slid through his fingers. “I think,” he said slowly, “that this is going to look a whole lot better on you than on me.”

Her breath came out in a strangled puff of anger.
“This is
not
funny. What just happened was not funny. Not by any stretch of the imagination. You could have
shotmc.
”

TJ. shoved back his hat. “You might want to hold it right there. I'm a trained law officer with fifteen years of experience. Contrary to what you see on TV, we
don't
shoot first and ask questions later.”

“You could have fooled me.” Her eyes glittered. “I've seen baboons with more self-control.”

“You'll want to consider your next words very carefully,” T.J. said softly. “You can attack me, but not my work.”

“You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry? And that makes everything okay?” Her face was pasty white and her hands were shaking hard. Delayed reaction, TJ. figured.

“I had my reasons,” he said quietly. He had a sudden vision of Tess crumpled in a sandy wash, one arm thrown back at an unnatural angle and blood trickling down her forehead—all too possible, if her brother's concerns were accurate. And as long as TJ. had known Andrew O'Mara, the man's instincts had been unerring.

“I didn't open that door to harass or annoy you. I acted because there was a real possibility you were in danger. Grady had no business letting you out of his sight. It won't happen again, believe me,” he snapped.

“What does
that
mean?”

“From now on, Grady, I, or one of the other deputies will have you in direct view at all times.” He cut her off as she started to protest. “That's nonnegotiable.”

“You can't—”

“I can. Your brother asked for my help and he got it. He's not going to be sorry,” Dimly, TJ. realized his
breath was coming hard and fast. “When these people come calling for their money—”

“—
if they
come calling,” Tess snapped.

“When
they come calling, they'll hit fast. They won't take time out for please and thank you. They also won't be overly concerned about who gets caught in the cross fire.”

He wanted to see her suffer, just a little, for refusing to recognize the danger she was in. Only a fool ignored risks, and he didn't think she was a fool. He wanted to see her face go pale at his words.

Another man might have shrugged it off, only too glad to tell her that there was no real danger, and everything would be fine because they were the good guys and the good guys always won.

But TJ. wouldn't stoop to that.

He'd seen the good guys lose too many times to lie. He'd watched fine, decent officers cut down in the line of duty while the public turned a cold, uncaring eye. He'd seen criminals wave confidently, boarding planes to South America or the Middle East, where they could live like royalty beyond the reach of American law.

No, the good guys didn't always win. This wasn't some shoot- 'em-up John Ford western, and the cavalry wouldn't be riding in at dawn. He was as close to cavalry as Tess was going to get.

But now, watching fear and uncertainty etch her cheeks and forehead, he felt an odd kind of pressure in his chest, compounded by a wave of protectiveness. “Look, maybe I was too hard on you.”

She didn't move, her shoulders stiff. “No, you weren't.” She gave a little shudder. “You were just doing your job, and I have to say that you are good at it. I see why Andrew said you were the best.” She drew a
jerky breath. “It's not your fault this happened. It's not your fault that one day I go out for a little cash and
boom
, suddenly I've got a million dollars in my bank account and my name posted on some master criminal's hit list. It's a little hard to take, that's all”

She was too pale, TJ. thought. Too edgy, “Maybe I should get you some water.”

She didn't answer.

“Maybe I should get something stronger. I've got some single malt whisky in my desk. We could both do with a drink right now.”

“Aren't you on duty?”

He glanced at the utilitarian wall clock. “Only for ten more minutes. You can get started while I finish out my shift.”

“I hate it when you're nice. It makes me feel rotten.” Tess ran a hand through her hair. “You probably think I'm acting like a horse's behind.”

“I may have noticed a slight similarity on several occasions.” His lips twitched.

Tess stared out at the street. “I don't know what's going to happen. I feel helpless and I don't like having my life jerked out from under me.”

“Perfectly understandable.”

“I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

“Why don't you let me worry about that?”

She studied him intently. “You do worry, don't you? I didn't see that about you at first.”

T. J. rubbed his neck as a wave of exhaustion hit him. His shift was nearly over and he was anxious to get home. The last thing he wanted was a personal discussion about his emotional state, which wasn't in peak form after watching a man crumple under the force of his bullet Criminal or not, every memory had a name.

“Look, why don't you gather up your things? Tom Martinez should be here any minute and then
I'll
get you settled up at Raneho Encantador. I've arranged for you to stay there for a few days.”

“Maybe you should eat before we go.”

“I'll be fine.”

“Mae left you some chili in a thermos. A whole dinner, in fact. Let me get it for you.”

“Don't bother about me.”

Twilight was gathering in a veil of pink that edged into purple. The sky was deep lapis and the air was sweet and silent. In the half light, there were lines in TJ.'s face Tess hadn't seen before, and an air of weariness had settled about him.

Whatever he had witnessed that afternoon had to be bad. The least she could do was see he ate a proper meal before he left. Dimly, Tess realized it was her way of calling a truce.

Without a word, she turned and scooped chili into a bowl while T.J. stood with one foot braced on a box, staring out at the darkening mountains. Tess saw weariness in the hard set of his shoulders and resignation in his face.

She didn't like the sight of either.

She shoved the warm bowl into his hand. “Don't bother arguing. You've got to be ravenous,
and
there's no need to let Mae's amazing chili go to waste.”

“Why do you care?”

The look he gave her was intent and measuring. Tess felt it roam over her skin and dig deeper. Suddenly her throat felt tight and achy. The room seemed too quiet, too small.

She didn't answer, uncertain herself of why she cared. In the awkward silence she covered one of Mae's
feather-light biscuits with butter, added some mashed potatoes and gravy, and shoved a second plate into the sheriff s hands.

His lips eased into a grin. “I'm getting a little loaded up here.”

“There's dessert, too. And the latte will be ready shortly.”

“Don't you ever relax?”

Tess measured out water for coffee. “I'm good at hovering, not relaxing.” She frowned. “They all like you. Grady says you cast a long shadow.”

TJ. made a noncommittal sound.

The silence felt intimate, making Tess more uneasy than ever. “Maybe I shouldn't have told you. I didn't mean—” She shoved another biscuit toward him. In the process her high heel dug into his boot.

T.J. winced, but managed to hold his plates steady.

“Sorry. That was clumsy. I don't usually …“Her voice trailed away as she stared up at his face, cast in purple shadows. He had the most compelling eyes. And there was a sear just above his eyebrow.

She stiffened. He was too close and too big. She didn't want to be here alone with him, standing in this beautiful, quiet twilight.

“There's no need to fuss.”

“I'm
not
fussing.” Tess blew out an irritated sigh. “Maybe I am. I never have been much good at relaxing.” Standing this close to him didn't help.

“There's nothing to it. All you do is find a soft chair, kick off your boots, and let your mind drift. I'll have to give you some lessons.”

Tess looked up. “Lessons?” And then her heart kicked.

His face was anything but relaxed. He was watching
her like a man who had all the time in the world. He was patient and implacable like the weathered boulders keeping silent watch over the endless red canyons.

Serve and protect, she thought.

The man could have been on a poster.

Like those rocks, T. J. McCall would be patient and abiding. Relentless in what he considered the performance of his duty.

'Isn't that chili too hot? I took a taste at Mae's and thought it burned the skin from my mouth.”

“Nothing's too hot for me.”

Tess swallowed. She absolutely wasn't going to read any double meaning into his words.

He finished his chili, his eyes never leaving her face. “By the way, Grady liked your garter belt.”

Heat swooped into her face. “How did
he
find it?”

He came in while you were dressing. “It was over there, wedged behind a file.”

“I looked all over. It must have landed there after I—”

“After you whipped me in the face with it?” he asked gravely.

Tess straightened her shoulders. “I simply tossed it.”

“I've still got the marks on my cheek, Duchess. Those little hooks pack quite a wallop.”

Tess made a strangled sound as a ball of white lace flew toward her. She caught it and stuffed it awkwardly in her pocket. How had they gotten into this conversation?

TJ.'s eyebrow rose. “If you're planning to take anything else off, just let me know.”

There it was again, that damnable heat that shot up
her spine and burned across her face. “Don't worry, I
won't
be.”

TJ. slanted his head back. Shadows brushed his jaw. “Might be downright interesting if you did.”

“You've already seen—” She stopped with a strangled oath. There was no need to remind him what he'd seen when he'd burst into the bathroom with his gun leveled.

“That latte must be finished by now,” she said stiffly. “I'll fill your cup.”

T.J. slid his plate onto the nearby cabinet. Up close, Tess saw the telltale red marks he'd described, caused by the little hooks on her garter belt.

She shoved the steaming coffee into his hand. “Here. Be careful, it's hot.”

But her aim was off.

The cup hit his wrist, toppled sideways, and spilled straight down into his lap.

T
.J. shot to his feet with a muffled howl, his hand gripping his jeans.