Just Pretending

Stories of family and romance beneath the Big Sky!

“I can handle trouble, David.”

He grinned again, then moved out the door and pulled it almost shut behind him.

She couldn’t help smiling. Her skin felt alive and tingly even though the only touch she and David had shared had been slight and over too quickly. But there was something about the lazy way the man looked at her that made her feel that he had touched her time and time again. There was something about the quiet, deep tone in his voice when he said her name.

“The man is definitely right,” she whispered to no one in particular. “It’s a good thing you know how to handle trouble. He may be a top-notch agent, but David Hannon is going to be a major source of very deep trouble.”

MYRNA MACKENZIE

grew up not having a clue what she wanted to be (she hadn’t been born a princess—the one job she thought she might like, because of the steady flow of pretty dresses and crowns), but she knew that she loved stories and happy endings, so falling into life as a romance writer was pretty much inevitable. An award-winning author who has written more than thirty-five novels, Myrna was born in a small town in Dunklin County, Missouri, grew up just outside Chicago and now divides her time between two lakes in Chicago and Wisconsin, both very different and both very beautiful. She adores the internet (which still seems magical after all these years), loves coffee, hiking, “attempting” gardening (without much success), cooking and knitting. Readers (and other potential gardeners, cooks, knitters, writers, etc.) can visit Myrna online at www.myrnamackenzie.com.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Four teen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

The town of White horn, Montana, didn’t look as though it had just been kicked in the teeth, David Hannon thought as he pushed through the outer doors of the police station. The July sky was blue, the sun was out, the mountains in the background were spectacular, and the town appeared to be every man’s vision of the perfect place to settle down. But, of course, if everything in his hometown had been perfect lately, he wouldn’t be here. At least not on a search for the truth.

David moved beyond the sunlight and into the station. He removed his dark sunglasses, smiled down at the middle-aged woman sitting behind the desk and told her who he was and who he wanted to see. She scribbled his message down on a scrap of paper and excused herself.

“Hey, Hannon, it’s been forever. Good to see you,” a booming voice called, snagging his attention as David walked further into the room and grinned at the deputy sheriff heading his way. “But if you wanted to catch any of those weddings your family’s been staging lately, you’re too late. Of course, the way your clan has been falling, there might be something Cupid’s slipped into the water supply. Better watch out. You could be next. Just another smooth bachelor fallen facedown in the wedding cake.”

David shook his head, still grinning as he reached out to shake his old friend’s hand. There had been a couple of unexpected weddings in his family in the past few months. But that wasn’t why he had returned.

“Reed, it’s great to see you, too. And you’re right. I only wish I could have made it here in time for both Frannie’s and Cleo’s weddings, but I couldn’t get away at the time.” It was the truth. It had nearly killed him that he hadn’t been able to get here in time to see the sister and cousin he was crazy about each take their turn walking down the aisle.

“So, you missed the weddings and now you’re here for…”

“To see my home and family, kiss the brides, congratulate the grooms on their good fortune, say hi to all my old buddies,” he said. “Do a little nosing around while I’m here.”

“Thought so,” the man said. “Can’t blame you. I’d be doing the same, if it were me, considering all the things that have been going on.”

Another deputy showed up and slapped David on the back. “David, it’s good to see that pretty face of yours. You don’t come around nearly enough. Means less women fainting at your feet, more dates for me, but still we’ve all missed you, bud. I couldn’t help but hear what you said. That nosing around you’re talking about have anything to do with those bodies that were found at the future resort/casino site out on Kincaid land?”

David tilted his head, reluctant to say too much until he knew which way the clouds were rolling in. “I thought I’d see if I could help out.”

“In an official capacity? FBI send you to assist?”

More like they hadn’t stopped him. His superior had known where David was going when he requested a leave of absence and he also knew what was going on here in White horn, but David was overdue for some time off. Still, it was a mark of Phil’s confidence in his professionalism that the man had okayed the leave without question. “Don’t get in too deep, Hannon, or I’ll have to call you back,” was his only comment. David didn’t plan to give Phil any reason to do that, but he fully intended to get at the truth of what had happened here in his hometown.

“Yeah, are you here as Special Agent Hannon or simply as David Hannon, one of White-horn’s favorite wandering sons?” another man asked with a chuckle.

“We’ll see,” David answered with a shrug and a grin. “Who’s the chief investigating officer on this one?” A lot would depend on how open-minded and cooperative the officer was.

The men exchanged a few sidelong glances. “That would be Detective Neal. Over there,” one man said.

David turned and looked toward the back of the room where his old friend had pointed and met with a sea-green-eyed stare and a pair of raised delicate blond brows. She was tall, slender, very crisp, her white blouse a sharp contrast to her black pantsuit. Her outfit and her demeanor said she was no-nonsense, just as her position required her to be. Nothing unusual about that. David had worked with plenty of female special agents, trusted his back to more than a few. Some of them had been colleagues, some friends, some more. None of them had ever made him think of hot nights and tangled sheets and drinking champagne from a woman’s lips. Until this second, that is. This lady detective was definitely a very special case, and she was frowning at him right now. She made one last comment to the person she’d been conversing with and started walking his way.

“Detective Neal?” David asked the man standing next to him.

“Very definitely, Hannon. Have a care. Gretchen’s relatively new to the area, but she’s one of the best. Worked the streets of Miami for a while. She’s knowledgeable, she’s fair and caring, but she’s tough. You may be able to charm most women with a single crook of your finger, but Gretchen takes her work very seriously and if you don’t do the same, she bites.”

The man’s words were teasing, but David could hear the respect in his friend’s voice.

“I wouldn’t imagine the sheriff would give his biggest case to someone who didn’t know how to do the job. Rafe’s too smart for that,” he agreed.

“She know who and what you are?” the man asked.

“Could be. Or maybe not. Catch you later,” David said quietly as he strode toward Detective Neal.

He didn’t know what the lady knew about him other than that he’d sent a note asking to see her, and those killer green eyes told him nothing. She moved across the room with purpose and efficiency, studying him as she advanced.

“Mr. Hannon?” she asked, looking down at the note the officer at the desk had taken to her. She stepped up beside David and he noted that in spite of his six-footone-inch frame, she didn’t have to look up very far to stare into his eyes. “You must be related to Frannie, then?”

“My sister,” he agreed.

“Frannie was one of the first people I met when I arrived here,” the lady said with a carefully polite smile. “She made a stranger feel welcome. But you didn’t come here to talk about your family. You’re here on police business, I’m told. You know something of one of my cases? You have information you’d like to provide to the authorities, perhaps, Mr. Hannon?”

Her voice was the cool smoky kind that could make a man think about bed when he should be thinking about business. Her thick, honeyed hair moved as she spoke, brushing her jawline. David had an undeniable itch to reach out and sample the silky texture of the tempting shimmery stuff. Like a curious child, he mused. Or a man in the mood to get his face slapped. He tilted his lips up in a bemused grin.

“I’m here on a matter of public concern, Detective Neal,” he said, schooling his thoughts to the matter at hand. “You’re handling the Raven Hunter murder and the death of Peter Cook. I understand that both bodies were found on the site of the future resort/casino being built in the area and that Peter Cook was one of the employees on the site. I’m here to look into those cases.”

She raised one brow. “What reason would you have for doing that, Mr. Hannon?” she asked, that boudoir voice quiet but firm.

“David,” he said simply. “Special agent. FBI,” he added, removing his credentials from the pocket of his sports jacket and flashing them. “I have reason to believe I could be of service here.”

“I see.”

He doubted that very much, but he could see something. Those beautiful green eyes had narrowed. He’d at least gotten her complete attention.

“I haven’t heard anything from the Bureau indicating that you were on your way, Mr. Hannon,” she said, ignoring his suggestion that she call him by his first name. “You’re telling me you’ve been assigned to my case for some reason?”

“I don’t recall putting it that way.”

“Just what way would you put it, then? If you’re not here officially, why would you offer your services?”

“This is my home. I have an interest.”

“And Jeremiah Kincaid, the chief suspect in the Raven Hunter murder, was your uncle.”

David nodded his agreement. “We weren’t close.”

The lady took a deep breath. “There was animosity between you?”

The slight look of hope in her eyes had David smiling. “Nice try, Detective, but no, I wouldn’t say that. I didn’t really know Jeremiah well. He didn’t take much interest in his sisters’ off spring. The man had…other interests.” The wary look that crossed the lady’s face told David that she knew exactly what he meant and that she was wondering if the family traits were passed down through the male bloodlines. His uncle had been an infamous womanizer.

As for David, he’d been blessed with more than his share of female companionship, and he hadn’t failed to notice that while Gretchen Neal did her best to shelve her femininity during working hours, she couldn’t hide that rose-and-cream complexion of hers. But just because he’d noticed the lady’s skin, that didn’t mean he was anything like his disreputable uncle.

David held out his hands in a gesture of surrender, but he arched one brow in obvious challenge.

“Look, Detective, I’ll be honest. I’m interested in this case because this is my hometown. It’s no secret that the people on the Laughing Horse Reservation have wanted to build this casino and resort for a while and that it will bring them much needed revenue. It’s also no secret that this deal has been made possible only because the people from the rez and a few private investors have joined forces to cross reservation lines and build some badly needed bridges between the town and the reservation. Like everyone else here, I want that to succeed. Finding bodies on the affected land has put a halt to that construction and those bridges for now, so, yes, I have an interest in that sense. But I’m also interested because all these ‘discoveries,’ these bodies, seem to have upset my aunt Celeste tremendously. Jeremiah was her brother, Raven was the father of her niece, Summer, and this brings back memories of her sister Blanche’s death, as well. She’s naturally upset, so much so that she isn’t sleeping. She isn’t eating right, I’m told. If I can help in any way, assist with the case and help move things more quickly, I’d want to do that.”

“There’s no reason for you to get involved. This is a homicide. Not an FBI matter. Raven Hunter’s remains weren’t found on the reservation, and the White horn force is an excellent one. We’re capable of handling this alone.” Gretchen Neal’s tone and her demeanor projected absolute calm. She was good, but not good enough to hide that trace element of annoyance in her eyes. She was in charge here and she didn’t like the implication that she needed outside help to do her job.

“I’m not implying that you’re not capable, Detective,” David said, keeping his voice cool and soothing. “That doesn’t mean that this department, just like any other law enforcement agency, couldn’t use a little assistance when it’s offered gratis. You can’t tell me that this special arrangement doesn’t follow standard procedure, because White horn has never really been known for doing that. You’ve got Rafe, a county sheriff, in charge of officers in the town and deputy sheriffs out into the rest of the county. Those jobs have always over lapped, and territories have been crossed when it was necessary to keep the citizens of the area safe. It’s a maverick setup that makes White horn special—and effective. Why not take it a step farther and get a little help from another agency, as well?”

The smallest of smiles lifted her lips and David had the feeling that he’d been given an unexpected gift. Her smile transformed her face, making her eyes light up. He had an urge to take a step closer. He squelched it, sure that this lady who was fighting so hard to keep him out of her investigation definitely wouldn’t want him in her personal space.

“You like to argue, don’t you, Mr. Hannon?” she asked with a touch of laughter in her voice. “Well, you’re right, I can’t debate the procedural issue, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to take on volunteer officers. We’ve had plenty of work trying to keep the site uncontaminated. People seem to want to flock to a murder scene for some reason. I’m sorry, but in my book, you’d be another warm body wandering over the site.”

She stood her ground, her green gaze apologetic but immovable. David had to give Gretchen Neal credit. She wasn’t going to let just anyone waltz in here and start calling the shots. He could see why Rafe Rawlings had put her in charge.

He raised one brow. “You make a good point there, Detective Neal, but I can assure you that won’t be a problem. In my line of work, dead bodies show up more often than I care to remember.” As always, David did his best not to think back on those scenes. Moving on was the only way to get past the memories and deal with the job effectively. He didn’t like sloppy work any more than Gretchen Neal did.

“Ms. Neal,” he continued. “I assure you I’ll keep my warm body out of the way as much as possible. I’m here to help, not to hinder.” His voice swooped low on those last words, almost the way a man would speak to a lover, and the lady blinked. She raised her chin higher, the slightest touch of rose in her cheeks just about the only hint that she was anything other than calm. He understood her consternation. He’d been a loner for most of his life and he knew all about that need to hold everything close, that unwillingness to give up even one thread of control to anyone.

For one second, one very brief second when she looked up at him, David could have sworn that the look in Gretchen Neal’s eyes spoke of vulnerability. Immediately the shades came down on her soul.

“I’m sure you mean well, but I—that is, I really don’t know you, Mr. Hannon, so I can’t very well take your word on that, can I? Would you take me on without question if the circumstances were reversed?”

A low chuckle sounded behind her and David was glad for the interruption. She made a good point, an excellent point, but he wasn’t sure just how he would have answered. Gretchen Neal was an eyeful and an armful—and a good cop, according to her co-workers and his own gut instinct. David had the feeling she’d be a hard lady to turn away from.

“Easy, Gretch,” Rafe Rawlings, sheriff and owner of the low chuckle said. “I know this guy. He’s clean. How’ve you been, David?”

“Busy,” David said with a smile as he shook hands with the sheriff. “But probably not as busy as you appear to have been lately.”

Rafe shrugged. “I hear you’re going to give us a hand. In an unofficial capacity, that is. Just heard from Phil Baker.”

“In an unofficial way,” David agreed.

“Rafe, have you considered the problems? This case is personal for Mr. Hannon,” Gretchen said.

Rafe held up one hand. “You know almost everyone in town, Gretchen, and so do I. All our cases are personal.”

“They’re not family.”

“David’s a pro. One of the best and brightest. He’ll handle it.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it again, but her eyes were worried when she hazarded a glance at David. Clearly she wouldn’t take her argument to the next step, blatantly questioning his professionalism, but she still didn’t like the situation.

“It’s a good move, Gretchen,” Rafe said quietly. “David’s lived here all his life. I know him. He cares what happens here. He’ll make a good partner. You lead. He’ll assist. Tomorrow will be soon enough to start. You’re a pro, too, Gretch. Get over your objections by the morning. That’s an order.”

She sighed and nodded slightly. “You’re the sheriff, Sheriff.”

Rafe smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he said goodbye and strolled away.

“Partners?” she whispered, her consternation evident.

David wanted to smile at the break in her voice, but he restrained himself. This lady didn’t want him around at all, and he’d already won the battle. No point in aggravating the good detective.

“Get to know me, Neal, before you decide I’m the enemy. I’m interested in the truth,” he said quietly. “And I intend to follow this through to the end no matter what that truth may turn out to be.”

He also intended to discover another truth if he could, David thought as he bid her good-day. What was it about Gretchen Neal’s soft green eyes that made him want to step in close and risk her bite? Just once before this case was closed, he hoped he’d get the chance to find out.

She’d argued too hard, Gretchen thought when David Hannon walked away, and she knew the reason. It wasn’t because of his personal connection to the case, although she’d been right to question it and Rafe had been right to set her straight. It wasn’t even because of the implication that she could use help from an outside agency, although her pride made her like to think that she could close this case alone. It did have something to do with the fact that this man was clearly going to be difficult to work with. He was going to want to lead. She could tell that already. Even more than that, though, her resistance was because of her reaction the first moment she’d turned and seen David Hannon. There was something about that dark sweep of hair, those intense emerald eyes, that made a person feel as if he knew what sensual dreams flitted through her thoughts when she lay sleeping and open and vulnerable. He had a strong jaw and a mouth that was a slash of sinful temptation. He looked like a man who drank a lot of champagne out of a lot of women’s slippers—and liked it.

Her breath had caught in her throat in a completely unprofessional way. It wasn’t that she was unused to men giving her those speculative looks. She spent a lot of time with men. Most of her time, in fact, and she liked men. She liked dating, but she kept work and play very separate. She never got involved with other law enforcement officers. She never got involved with anyone too deeply and what’s more, she didn’t like feeling and doing things that just weren’t smart. Having a physical reaction to David Hannon was plain stupid and unacceptable. Especially if she was going to work with him in close quarters.

And she was, it seemed, because when she arrived at the station the next morning David was there before her. When she walked up to her desk and found him lounging in her chair, studying a file, his tall, dark good looks hit her like an express train at full throttle. The man was smooth, James Bond smooth, with that wicked half smile and those deep knowing eyes that had, no doubt, convinced a good number of women that virginity was a very bad thing to hang on to. She’d just bet he knew how to use that face, that body and that convincing, seductive way of talking to get whatever he wanted, just as he had yesterday. Good thing she was a pro, Gretchen thought. She’d gotten past the wallop her first glance of David Hannon had given her and now she was back in charge. Of herself and this case. And she would remain that way.

“Ready to take me on?” he asked sweetly.

She smiled back at him just as sweetly. “I’m always ready and able to handle anything.”

He raised one brow and grinned knowingly. Gretchen felt her heart trip over a speed bump too quickly, but she ignored the feeling.

“Let’s get started, Mr. Hannon.”

“David.”

“David,” she reluctantly agreed.

He waited, a patient smile on his lips.

“All right, okay, yes, I’m Gretchen,” she finally said, reaching for the folder. “Shall we go…David?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He stood, looking down at her, and for one swift second she wished he were a little less tall, a little less broad-shouldered and polished. Maybe then she could think of him as just another cop of sorts. Must be the way he wore those sports jackets so elegantly or the fact that his white shirt looked good against his tanned skin.

“I’ll fill you in as we drive,” she managed to say, leading him out the door of the station to her plain white unmarked car. For one second, he headed for the driver’s side, then paused, a sheepish smile on his face as she stopped dead in her tracks. “Sorry, Gretchen.”

“You’re used to being in charge.” Her words were resigned.

He shrugged, an admission of the truth. “I’m sure I’ll get used to being second in command in time.”

The last thing David Hannon was, was anyone’s assistant. He was a man who knew how to lead and who liked to lead, and he was being gracious now by not pointing that out.

Gretchen sighed. “We’ll both get used to it, David. Orders are orders.”

As they cruised down the short streets of White-horn and out into the rolling, rugged country beyond, David studied Gretchen’s profile. She was soft, fresh, a green-eyed beauty clad in another pristine pantsuit of stark navy. The dark suit and white blouse offset the golden glow of her hair, which feathered over her collar. Gretchen Neal might be a hard-edged detective, but she was packaged in the softness of a very womanly body. A delicious contrast.

She intrigued, and he was used to women intriguing. He’d grown up in White horn, surrounded by his father and a number of females. His aunt, his mother, his sister and all those female cousins. Asthma had made him sickly, a victim of his condition, as a boy, and he’d grown used to a life surrounded by attentive, caring women. A life without close friends his age, it was true. He hadn’t been able to do most of the things other kids had done. Still, he’d learned a lot about women in those years and he’d learned still more as he’d grown up and grown healthy. Women fascinated him and he’d enjoyed sampling more than his share. Gretchen was different, though. He could see that right from the start. Her shell was hard, as it had to be, but the core of her…well, that part of her fascinated him immensely. He very definitely wondered what exactly lay under that keep-your-distance armor of hers.