His Private Pleasure

3

JUST KEEP WALKING, Liza. She really had to work on her impulse control. Because God knew she’d totally failed in that department over the past half hour. And here was the perfect opportunity. She really wanted to stop, find out what sexy Sheriff Jackson had to say. She wanted to say outrageous things to him and watch that little divot in his chin appear, watch the light flash in those yummy caramel eyes. “But no,” she said under her breath, “you’ve wreaked enough havoc for one small town in an afternoon. Time to move on.”

Only she really didn’t want to do that, either. In fact, this past hour was the most fun she’d had since leaving Natalie and Jake’s ranch in Wyoming eight days ago. Hell, since leaving her condo in L.A. a month before that.

She had no idea what had gotten into her—okay, that was a lie. Sheriff Dylan Jackson had gotten into her. Her poor little libido had whimpered pitifully, and the next thing she knew she was letting his mother believe she was a Vegas showgirl. Although, and she doubted Dylan would be impressed with the significant difference, she hadn’t actually told Avis anything that wasn’t true. Liza had quit her job. And she didn’t know where she was staying tonight.

But, dear Lord, she knew where she’d like to stay.

He was an ex-Vegas cop, her little libidinous voice whispered. Not a small-town boy with those inconvenient, uptight small-town morals. Certainly not if he’d created a showgirl as his imaginary girlfriend. Liza smiled to herself. Maybe he enjoyed saying outrageous things, too.

All the more reason to keep on walking. She was supposed to be “finding” herself. Not finding a man to play with. But, dammit, one nice afternoon playing with Sheriff Dylan Jackson would sure as hell take the edge off.

She slowed, just fractionally, as her resolve wavered. Fortunately for her, it was just enough of a pause to allow Dylan to catch up to her. Her conscience clear—after all, she hadn’t actually given in to her impulses, right?—she turned to face him. Dear Lord, she thought, feeling her skin heat up. Even with a silly blue sweater tied around his waist, he was every woman’s pure, unadulterated authority-figure fantasy come to life. She’d never harbored any domination fantasies…but, hey, she was adaptable.

“If you’d like, I can go to the auxiliary meeting and explain everything to your mother,” she offered.

She almost laughed at the look of horror that flashed across his rugged face. “That won’t be necessary.”

Liza folded her arms. It was that or reach out and trace those lips. They were so distinctly defined, almost hard looking. But she’d bet they were quite clever, that he knew just how to use them for maximum effect. Like now, she thought. The frown he was delivering was very effective. If she was the sort to be put off by that kind of thing. Which she wasn’t.

When he didn’t say anything else, she took a step back. “Well, then, I’ll be on my way.” It was a distinct invitation for him to stop her, to say whatever it was that had prompted him to follow her down the street. She could see the urge to do so warring with the resolve to simply nod, wave and wish her a safe trip. She knew all about that little internal tug-of-war. She lost those battles more often than she won them. She didn’t use to mind. She wished she minded more now.

“Where are you headed?”

Good compromise, she thought with admiration. Not exactly a capitulation, but not a decisive victory, either. “Why?” she asked. “Did you want to escort me out of town before I get into any more trouble?”

His lips quirked, and for a moment she thought she’d be treated to another one of those I-dare-you-to-be-bad smiles. “I have a feeling that nothing stops you from getting into trouble if that’s what you want to do.”

“Why, Sheriff, I’m not sure you meant that as a compliment. But if you meant to say that I get whatever I set my mind to having…then you’d be right.” Stop flirting, get in your car and head out of town. But this was fun. He wasn’t like the flavor-of-the-month men she’d helped Hollywood churn out by the fistfuls.

The fact that she’d actually fallen for one of those prefab flavors still irked her. She’d never been susceptible to developing emotional attachments to the men she dated, and still had no idea why in the hell Conrad had been any different. Actually, he hadn’t been any different. It was she who had been different. Needy. Emotional. Devastated when she’d found out he’d been sleeping with his own flavor-of-the-month. The fact that it had happened just as Natalie thought she was finding her real true love hadn’t helped matters any.

“What makes you think Canyon Springs is a pit stop and not my destination?” she said.

“Call it intuition.”

“The same kind of intuition that told me your Vegas dream girl was a figment of your imagination?”

He flashed her that smile, and her thighs actually went liquid for a moment. Damn, but he was potent. She could have done amazing things with that smile in her old line of work. The very idea of convincing Dylan Jackson to take a screen test had her suppressing a smile of her own.

“I have a fairly vivid imagination,” he assured her, his smile shifting to a cocky grin. “But I didn’t need to rely on that.”

Oh yeah, he’d have tested off the scale.

“Have plenty of experience with Vegas showgirls, do you?”

“I’ve seen one or two.”

“Personally…or professionally?”

He simply smiled.

Dear God. Liza pressed her thighs together. “So, is it the flashy car that pegged me as an outsider?”

“It’s not the flash of the car, but of the occupant.”

She laughed, not at all offended by his assessment. After all, he was right. He was also fun. And sharp. And eat-me-up sexy. Maybe she would hang around Canyon Springs. Just for a little while. And really, what harm could come of it? She was hardly going to break his heart. And her heart, despite recent bizarre activity, was certainly safe from a big-city-turned-small-town sheriff.

She may have decided that the superficiality of Hollywood had been slowly sucking her spirit dry, but wherever she landed, she was reasonably sure it would have more than two traffic lights. And at least one seriously upscale shopping mall.

“So, I’m flashy, am I?” She looked down at her capri pants and clingy silk T. “What’s glitzy about me?” She was wearing only a few bracelets and one pair of earrings. No belly chain, no toe rings. Even her hair was relatively tame. Shoot, she was a total Plain Jane today. If you didn’t count the shoes. But they were such sweet little heels, weren’t they?

She glanced up just as Dylan stepped closer, and actually felt a slight tremble when he lifted his hand. Man, she hadn’t reacted to a male this viscerally since…well, never. Probably it was the enforced celibacy magnifying her reaction.

But she doubted it.

He flicked a wayward curl from her cheek without actually touching her skin, then let his hand fall away before she could press her cheek into his palm. Not that she would have. Surely she would have resisted being that obvious. Surely.

“It’s not the clothes,” he said. “Some women just radiate flash.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, so now I’m ‘some women?’”

“Ah. I suppose you’re used to being singled out. Put on a pedestal. Worshipped. Is that it?”

She shrugged and tossed him her sauciest grin. “What can I say? Slavelike worship has always worked for me.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re definitely not run-of-the-mill.”

“Oh gee, my heart is all aflutter, Sheriff.”

Now he grinned. “I do my best.”

“So, if I’m nothing special, why are you standing on the street in downtown Canyon with a sweater hiding your smiley faces, stalling me from leaving?”

He took another small step forward. There was still plenty of space between them. To anyone passing by, it would look like a simple conversation between two adults. But she knew better. The air between them all but crackled. “Do you want me to keep you from leaving?”

“Maybe I just want you to admit that I’m special.”

He smiled. “Surely you’ve heard that enough times, from enough men, to believe it by now. Why would hearing it from me make any difference?”

She’d just been playing with him, not serious at all, but his question made her pause. It shouldn’t make any difference, anything he said to her. She didn’t even know him. But she did know what he wasn’t. He wasn’t a player. He wasn’t part of the machine, part of the hype, part of the world that never said anything, did anything, for anyone, without there being some angle, some hidden agenda. So, in that respect, it did make a difference hearing it from him.

A shame she’d just been teasing him. He didn’t know her, couldn’t possibly make an informed judgment on anything about her. “You’re right,” she said, feeling vaguely depressed by the admission, ridiculous as that was. “I guess it wouldn’t.”

He cocked his head. “Why are you in Canyon Springs, anyway?”

“I’m on my way home from a wedding.”

“Albuquerque? Santa Fe?”

She shook her head. “Wyoming.”

He laughed. “Sort of a circuitous route you’re taking back to California, isn’t it? Either that or you’re really lost.”

“You can’t get lost when you don’t have an itinerary.”

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it. But you do have a destination. Which is west of here, you know. West and a state or so away.”

“I’m aware of that. I don’t have to be back anytime soon.”

“No new job waiting?”

She shook her head. “I’m on an extended…sabbatical.”

“Must have been successful in your old job, to take an open-ended leave like that.”

“Yeah, well, success isn’t measured only in money,” she said, then smiled. “But it does make sabbatical-taking a whole lot easier.”

“Sort of like running away from home, but with an expense account, huh?”

“Is there any other way to run?” He really was an intriguing guy, she thought. Intuitive. Sexy as hell, good sense of humor, but with something a little dark and edgy on the fringes. Probably the part of Vegas he still carried inside him. A shiver of awareness raced over her skin as she wondered what he might have been like if she’d crossed paths with him when that darkness was still fresh. Visions of those authority-figure fantasies popped into her head again, complete with handcuffs, leather belts and—

And that was quite enough of that. She clasped her hands, surprised to find her palms a bit damp. “I guess I’ll be on my way, then.”

“I guess you will.”

Neither of them moved.

“Head west, go past one state and hang a right, huh?” she said, after the silence stretched until her thighs got twitchy again.

“Or you could keep heading south. Since you’re in no hurry.”

“True. I’m not sure I’m done running away yet. I’m sort of enjoying my little adventure.” Or I am now, she thought.

His eyes suddenly narrowed and his entire body language shifted even though he didn’t move a muscle. “You aren’t running from something, are you? Someone?”

Liza felt the hairs all over her body lift at that sudden shift in intensity, all focused so deliciously on her. “Just the old me.” She smiled when he only fractionally relaxed. “Although she does seem to be dogging my steps today.”

“Meaning?”

“Old habits die hard.”

He thought about that for a moment. “Rescuing men is a bad habit of yours?”

She laughed. “You could say that. Be thankful, though. My price used to be pretty steep.”

“Hey, I tried to buy you lunch.”

“No, you tried to buy your way out of lunch. There’s a difference.”

“You didn’t honestly expect me to go in there dressed like this?”

“Half the town has probably driven past by now and seen you dressed like that. And, frankly, you don’t strike me as the sort whose masculinity is threatened all that easily.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. And typically, you’d be right. Anywhere except here. Hometowns have a way of making you feel you have to prove you’re a grownup.”

“And not the roughneck rascal you used to be?”

He laughed. “How’d you guess?”

She could tell him her body knew a bad boy when it was around one, but he was so many things she’d never been around, it wouldn’t have been entirely true. “So, why come back?”

“I was done being gone.”

“Interesting answer. Surely there are other places besides Vegas and your hometown that needed a sheriff.”

“I’m sure there are. I guess I needed to be someplace where I mattered on more than just a professional level. Good or bad, and there’s some of both, Canyon Springs is that place for me.”

Liza smiled. “So, is this a good day or a bad one?”

“Maybe a little of both.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, you did wreak a bit of havoc that I’m going to have to clean up.”

“Guilty as charged.” She stuck her arms out, wrists close together. “Take me in, Officer.”

He surprised her by taking her wrists in one broad hand before she could drop them. His strength and speed shouldn’t have surprised her…or soaked her panties like that.

“Maybe I’ll do just that,” he said.

She lifted her gaze from that big hand restraining her, circling hers so easily, so completely…. She hated not being in control. Really hated it. So why she opened her mouth and said, “Maybe I’ll let you,” she had no idea.

Those caramel eyes of his heated up. “Do I need to lock you up right now?” He stroked a finger across the pulse thrumming in her wrist…and his lips curved in a knowing smile. “Or can I leave you on your own recognizance until I’m off work?”

“Depends,” she said, proud that she’d managed to get the word past her suddenly parched throat. “How long will I be left to my own devices?”

He grinned. “I’m thinking any amount of time is time enough for you to find trouble.”

Liza merely smiled.

“Can I trust you to leave well enough alone with the showgirl story?”

“I don’t know, that’s asking an awful lot. I’m a people person. So I’m bound to meet up with some, and you know how it is, you get to talking and all.” She tried hard to ignore the riot of sensations his gentle, but quite firm grip on her wrists was wreaking on her body. Christ, she’d have to be a saint to pull that off. And one thing she’d never be, no matter how long a sabbatical she took from the opposite sex, was a saint.

She shuddered just a tiny bit when he rubbed his thumb along the base of her palm. And she was pretty sure she was about to take a sabbatical from her sabbatical.

“To be—” She was forced to stop and clear her throat. She wondered if he had any idea how long it had been since a man confounded her like this. One look at the smile teasing that hard mouth of his and she figured he had plenty of ideas. Dear Lord have mercy. “To be on the safe side, why don’t you fill me in on what you’ve told the general population here. So I can keep my story straight, of course.”

“Of course.” He relaxed his hold, but rather than sliding his hands up her arms and pulling her closer, which he had to know she was ready for, he surprised her once again by sliding his fingers down along her hands instead, all the way down her fingers to the very tips…before finally dropping his hands away.

Way more effective. Way.

“Tell you what,” he said, his own voice just a fraction rougher. He fished in his pocket and came up with a set of keys. He slid one off and handed it to her.

Just full of surprises. She was off balance—badly enough that it rattled her a bit. This was so far outside the way these things typically worked for her that she reacted on instinct, meaning she used her mouth to put herself back on top. Figuratively speaking. “So, I’ve won the key to your heart already, have I?”

He didn’t even blink. “Not a chance. This one unlocks something far less dangerous.”

He was way too good at this. Almost as good as she was.

“It’s the key to my place.”

She laughed. “What kind of sheriff are you?”

“The kind that knows which is the safer bet. Trust me, there’s not too much damage you can do at my place.”

“Meaning you’d rather keep me tucked away, private, out of sight.”

“Out of earshot is more like it.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “So, do you make a habit of giving strange women the key to your house?”

“You would be the first. And you’re hardly strange.”

She grinned. “Well, that’s close enough to admitting I’m special to appease my inner princess.” She eyed him consideringly. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m in the habit of taking keys from strange men?”

He chuckled then. “Well, let’s just say—and I know you’ll take this the right way—I have a feeling you can handle yourself just fine with any man.”

She could have told him he wasn’t just any man, but she had little enough leverage as it was. “That may well be true. But I’d still be putting myself in a situation that would be hard to defend, if you chose to…overpower me.” Dear Lord, where had that come from? So much for that pesky little domination fantasy she’d never had.

He pushed another curl from her cheek, this time just lightly brushing her skin. “I’m pretty sure the one overpowered here is me.”

If he only knew, she thought, fighting the shudder of pleasure that threatened to ripple through her.

“But if you need further reassurance, I’d hardly do anything nefarious in my own hometown, where everyone’s business is, well, everyone’s business.”

“You are the law, though. If you want something done, doesn’t it get done?”

“You did stand under that tree an hour ago and watch me lose a battle with a bird, did you not?”

She laughed. “True. And your mother is a formidable woman.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“You’d be surprised. Sometime we’ll have to swap parent tales. I could raise your hair.” This is an afternoon fling, Liza, not This Is Your Life.

“I could make the obvious observation here, but that would be too easy.”

Easy. Sort of like some might think she was being at the moment. Only this didn’t feel remotely easy. Still…

“When I said I rescued men, just exactly what did you think my former occupation was, anyway?”

Now he laughed. “Trust me, that was the last thing on my mind.”

“So sure, are you?”

That dark edgy look was back in his eyes. “I worked vice in Vegas. I’m sure.”

She relaxed. A little. “Okay. So I’m just supposed to head over to your place and sit and wait for you.” She smiled. “I’m not sure whose fantasies we’re fulfilling here.”

“Is that what this is for you? A fantasy fulfillment of some kind?”

Oops. Oh well, in for a penny… “Didn’t start out that way.”

“But?”

“Well, at the risk of sounding horribly unimaginative, which, trust me, is so not like me—”

“That, I believe.”

“Says the guy who created the floozy girlfriend.”

“Showgirls work hard, they’re not floozies.”

“I won’t ask how you know that.”

He shrugged. “Your choice.”

She grinned. “So maybe I will ask. Later.”

“I suppose we both have some stories to tell. If that’s how you want to spend the evening.”

“Depends. What else did you have in mind?”

“Dinner. And—”

She raised a hand. “I might be willing to sit and wait, but I draw the line at cooking.”

“Ever?”

“I don’t recall us discussing more than this one dinner at the moment.”

“At the moment, huh? I’ll keep that in mind, too.”

“Oh, I doubt you forget much of anything.”

“You’d be right. You like grilled steak and a good red wine?”

“Add a tossed salad and we have a date.”

“Deal.”

“What else?”

“What else what? You want the dessert menu?”

She laughed. “I could make the obvious statement, but that would be way too easy. What I meant was, you started to say something else earlier. Dinner and what?” Something told her he hadn’t been going to say “hot sweaty monkey sex.” Although she might have been perfectly fine with that.

“Dinner. And an evening spent talking on the front porch, watching the sunset.”

“Sounds very nice. I guess we can discuss that dessert thing during our porch talk, hmm?”

He grinned and dangled the key. “I guess we can.”

She didn’t take the key, not right away.

“I’m offering to be part of your adventure,” he said, looking at her in such a direct way she couldn’t help but stare back. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

Liza was used to being the one in charge, the one calling the shots, the one jacking up the atmosphere until the man in her sights was reduced to a quivering mass of need. Needs he believed—in that moment, anyway—only she could fulfill. She was never the one trying to sort out the dizzying swirl of emotions. Never the one reduced to taking what was offered.

Of course, once she got him alone, there was nothing to say she couldn’t be the one in charge, the one driving the course of the evening’s activities. He’d told her he was willing to be a participant in her adventures, hadn’t he?

So why, when he pressed the key into her palm, were her fingers the only ones trembling?

4

HE’D TOTALLY LOST his mind. Dylan drove his Range Rover past the lightning tree and slowed as he approached the road leading to his house. What in the hell had possessed him to give her the key?

He thought about the way she’d looked at him, like she’d wanted to inhale him. The light in her eyes that told him she knew just how she’d lap him up. Slowly, and with great relish. He went hard just thinking about it.

And knew exactly why he’d given her his key.

“Dinner and some sunset conversation, my ass,” he muttered. They both knew casual conversation was not her reason for taking that key. Which should have been an immediate turn-off to him. Of the fistful of reasons he’d come back to Canyon Springs, women figured prominently among them. Specifically, the type of woman he’d tended to run across in his previous line of work. Hard, cynical. Bored, lonely. He’d had too many of each, before realizing he saw himself in them.

But Liza wasn’t like that. “That’s just your hard-on talking,” he told himself, shifting in his seat. Although that was partially true, so was his initial take on her. For someone taking a break from life, she didn’t look used up or worn-out. Absolutely the opposite. Alive, hungry, ready. Those were words he’d use to describe her. He doubted she was casual about anything, even sunset conversation.

He wasn’t that blinded by those aquamarine eyes and candy-apple lips. He knew a player was a player, no matter the league. Okay, maybe he was a little blinded. But they had one thing in common that intrigued him enough not to care. They were both escapees. And they wanted each other.

He smiled and pressed down on the gas. So maybe this wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had. At the very least it would be an enjoyable mistake.

His home, a soaring A-frame with more glass than any sane man with an aversion to cleaning would ever put in a house, appeared on the horizon. He smiled. So what? He’d spent long nights staked out in cramped cars dreaming of this exact house. And now it was a reality. And all his.

He topped the last hill and something in him settled, as it always did, every time he saw it. It was nestled perfectly among the tall pines and jagged rocks. He’d had to blast out some of it to make an area large enough to build on, but no one could say the foundation wasn’t rock solid. The second-story deck afforded him a wide view of the rincón, or valley, below. A short walk to the other side of the mountain presented him with a spectacular view of the canyons where the springs originated.