He drew his gun, and Gemma let him go in first.

When all was clear, he headed for the stairway. With any luck he’d tell Gemma good night and retire to his guestroom, alone. But when he turned the corner, they collided. She lost her balance with a small, startled sound, flailing her arms. Catching her around the waist, he stepped down two of the stairs to keep them both from falling.

Her hands came against his biceps and her soft brown eyes peered up at his, her lips parted with surprise. She slid her hands up his arm to his shoulders, enough of an invitation for him.

He leaned down to kiss her.

She parted her lips, encouraging him more …

Dear Reader,

What a pleasure contributing to this perfect continuity! Full of action and suspense, each book in the series offers a great getaway to a land of paradise gone awry. I hope you’ll find Lawman’s Perfect Surrender a perfect addition to the series!

My favourite part of writing this story was the main characters. This continuity is full of fascinating people who enrich the town’s elite and bountiful façade. Gemma Johnson has spice for life and newfound optimism after escaping an abusive ex-husband. And Ford McCall is the perfect man for her. Haunted by a tragic past, he’s driven to uphold the law. What’s hard for them both is trusting enough to relax their defences after enduring so much pain.

Writing their characters was a satisfying exploration of courage and the invincible power of love. May you feel the emotion as the two grow together.

Happy reading,

Jennifer Morey

About the Author

Two-time 2009 RITA® Award nominee and a Golden Quill winner for Best First Book for The Secret Soldier, JENNIFER MOREY writes contemporary romance and romantic suspense. Project manager du jour, she works for the space systems segment of a satellite imagery and information company and lives in sunny Denver, Colorado. She can be reached through her website, www.jennifermorey.com, and on Facebook—jmorey2009@gmail.com.

Lawman’s
Perfect
Surrender

Jennifer Morey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Sandra Long, ex-detective for the Boulder, Colorado Sheriff’s Department, for helping me with crime scene investigations. Her knowledge and advice was invaluable to me when writing this story.

Laura Leonard and Susan LeDoux—the best proofreaders I could ask for!

Jackie, my adorable twin, I wish everyone knew you the way I do.

My homey. Thanks for doing things like watching movies with your daughter in the Jeep while I attend R-rated book readings. No man I’ve ever met compares.

And as always, Mom.

Chapter 1

After talking to the fire chief about final plans for this week’s Fourth of July celebration, Ford McCall tucked his cell phone into its holster and looked with dread toward the front doors of Samuel Grayson’s lavish three-story community center. Marble-trimmed, tinted windows and swooping gardens full of color accented the stone monolith. This was Inspiration Central at its finest, cloaked in danger and deception. The whole town was infected with its cultish poison.

Ford sighed and ran his fingers through his windblown blond hair, annoyed that he had to deal with another woman who’d caught Grayson’s fancy. The Chief of Police had assigned him to question a “very special lady.” She was special, all right. Grayson always took an interest in anything that put a ripple in his perfect town, and he used the police chief to take care of the problem. Gemma Johnson had moved here after divorcing her ex-husband, Jed, who hadn’t taken her leaving well and found and beat her. Now she was scared and vulnerable.

She must be vulnerable. Otherwise, Ford would not have found her here, attending one of Grayson’s early-evening, soul-perfecting seminars.

With the summer sun low in a clear blue sky, the doors to the Cold Plains Community Center opened and a throng began to emerge. He spotted her almost immediately. She wore white cropped pants with a dark blue-and-white sleeveless blouse. All he’d seen of her was a picture, but it was enough. She walked slowly beside the taller Lacy Matthews, the owner of the posh and trendy Cold Plains Coffee.

The two must have struck up a friendship, thanks to the seminars. Another bad sign for the newcomer. Lacy was well on her way to no return. Ford wouldn’t be at all surprised if she already had a D for Devotee tattooed on her hip. Grayson liked to brand his truest followers that way. If Gemma wasn’t careful, she’d be drawn into his secret tattoo parlor just like the others.

As the women drew closer, Ford couldn’t help noticing Gemma in a very different light from the one that brought him here. Small-boned, almost fragile, she had a tiny waist, slender hips and breasts a little larger than a handful. Lean and sexy. Though her lower lip and nose were still swollen and the cuts and bruises on her face were still clearly visible, he could see she was a beautiful woman. Silky dark hair waved gently as she moved and she had the softest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

Putting a stop to his wandering fascination, he circled back to his purpose here. His job was to question her about her ex-husband and then find and arrest him, not ask her out on a date.

The first of the attendees to leave the building passed. Some greeted him warmly, others looked over in suspicion. Why was Police Deputy Ford McCall dressed in uniform and standing beside his flashy, department-issued Escalade, in front of Samuel Grayson’s community center? Was he waiting? Who was he waiting for? Ford found it ironic that no one batted an eye over the higher-ranking officers driving such pricey vehicles. This was Cold Plains, the city where beauty and prosperity thrived. It was only natural that city officials suited the culture while they worked to keep the town safe. If the Chief of Police, Bo Fargo, wanted to spend that kind of money, who was Ford to complain? He was more concerned with the unsolved murders and mysteriously disappearing residents, all occurring in the time frame Samuel Grayson had been here.

“Ms. Johnson?” he called when Lacy and Gemma were about to pass.

Gemma stopped, and so did Lacy.

The seminar attendees who’d heard him paused with curiosity. An older woman ornamented with diamonds smiled her approval. The police are doing their job, he could almost hear her thinking. Gemma had obviously been accosted, therefore, justice needed to be done. Someone had to purge the town of the thug who’d done it. Clean out the trash, as it were. Grayson would love that. But his reasons were different than Ford’s. Much different.

“Gemma Johnson?” he said to the woman’s stunned face.

Stepping closer, he saw that he towered over her small frame as she gazed up at him with those lovely, uncertain, flighty eyes.

“Deputy McCall, Cold Plains Police. I’d like to talk to you about Jed Johnson. Is now a good time?”

After blanching slightly, she stammered, “O-oh … I—I … of course.”

Ford turned to Lacy. “Ms. Matthews.”

Lacy bowed her head congenially. “Deputy McCall.” Then she turned to Gemma. “Stop by Cold Plains Coffee tomorrow morning. I’ll make you a vanilla latte and we can talk more.”

Gemma’s smile was big, tripping Ford up with its dazzling warmth. “I’d love that.”

She’d fallen so easily into Lacy’s magnetic personality. Or was it the smile itself that had grabbed him? Yes. It was the smile. Beautiful. Guileless. Full of innocent delight. Wide, white and toothy. It lit up her face and wiped away all the vulnerability and fear.

Lacy walked away.

Given Ford’s suspicion of Lacy’s affiliation with Grayson, he didn’t trust Gemma’s friendship with her. Lacy had her priorities, and they centered around Grayson.

That smile transfixed him all over again, now softening as she regarded him. The way it made him feel reminded him too much of the past, back when initial sparks led to heartache. He briefly glanced away, only to catch another seminar attendee eyeing them speculatively.

“Would you like to go somewhere to talk?” he asked her.

“Oh …” She glanced across the street to a brick diner with a bright green sign that said Fleur de Sel’s. It was immaculately clean and modern.

“All right. Yes.”

He offered his arm to her and she looped hers through it, leaning a little of her weight against him. She’d be sore for a while but she’d recover. He helped her across the street and they entered the French diner beneath several curious gazes. It was getting late in the evening so there were a few tables open. Unfortunately, most of the patrons had come from the community center.

After Ford asked for a booth along the front windows, the hostess led them there. He wanted something relatively private. Sitting across from Gemma, he pulled out a pen and a little notebook.

“Have you ever been here before?” she asked.

Realizing she was referring to the restaurant, he answered, “No.”

“It’s very good. I like to find the best, and this is definitely one of those.”

He didn’t really care about that. But he suspected she was only nervous. “Why don’t we start with what happened?” She’d have to face it sometime.

Her eyes lowered to the table. “How did you find out? I didn’t call the cops.”

A waitress appeared, interrupting them.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No. Lacy and I had dinner before the seminar.” She looked up at the waitress. “Just water for me.” And then to Ford she said, “They do have a chocolate croissant here that stands apart from all others. You should try it for breakfast some time. It’s really good. The best.”

“Everything is in this town,” he quipped, only half kidding, then to the waitress, “Just black coffee for me.”

The tall and slender, beautifully groomed woman in a green apron embroidered with a Fleur de Sel logo snapped her order book shut and turned away.

Gemma’s nervousness eased and she smiled at his sarcasm. He grinned back at her and offered no explanation.

Relaxing even more, she settled back against the bench seat and studied him as though trying to figure him out on her own. Her gaze fell down over his chest, spending more time on his badge before rising again. Her light brown eyes sparkled with health and vitality, and the same fascination that had overcome him. None of the frailty he’d sensed when he’d first announced he wanted to talk to her about Jed remained. The change in her was magnificent. And she was so beautiful he couldn’t stop staring at her. The more he stared, the more he wanted to make Jed pay for marking her with cuts and bruises.

Suddenly aware of the heat that had risen out of nowhere, he reeled it in. The quicksilver reaction came without welcome. She’d struck him right away, at first sight. That was unusual. When a woman caught his eye, he normally had time to assimilate whether he wanted to pursue her. With Gemma, it slam-dunked him, thrust him right in the middle of an unexpected attraction.

Not understanding why she did that to him, he tapped his pen on the notebook. “The Chief of Police told me to come get your statement.”

As he’d hoped, her demeanor cooled.

“That’s how I know your ex-husband came after you,” he answered her previous question. He didn’t tell her that Doctor Rafe Black had also spoken to him, voicing his concern over Grayson’s interest in her after he’d treated her at the hospital.

“Ah.” She nodded and averted her gaze.

“Would you mind telling me exactly what happened?”

She glanced at him and then down at the table again, the vulnerability he’d noticed before returning. He could understand how this would be hard for her.

“Did he break into your home?” he helped her out.

She lifted her eyes. “No. I—I left the back door open. I know I should have locked all my doors, but I’d been feeling so safe here. He walked right in.”

Lots of people felt safe and secure here … at first. He could tell she felt like a fool for that and hoped it had shown her not to trust her impression of Cold Plains as an idyllic town. It was, but not with Samuel Grayson in it.

“You were surprised to see him?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah.” She nodded a few times. “He was really angry. He sent me a few emails before coming to find me. I ignored them all, of course. He wanted to reconcile and I wasn’t about to do that. The divorce was already final and I’ve moved on. When he came here, he kept asking me if I thought I could just walk away from him. I told him to leave or I’d call the police and then he … that’s when he attacked me. He hit me and kicked me until I thought I was going to die. He broke my Tiffany lamp when he threw it at me and it hit the wall. I loved that lamp.” She pouted.

She sounded more upset over the lamp than being attacked. Did she favor material things or was the lamp something special to her? “You fought him off?”

“No. I mean, yes, I fought him, but he stopped beating me and said he’d be back and I could either go with him or he’d kill me. It’s like he was giving me time to think about it.” She shook her head incredulously. “I thought he was going to kill me then, but he only wanted to warn me.”

Ford finished jotting down some notes. “So he said he’d be back for you. Did he say when?”

“No.” She took a deep breath and looked away.

“Do you have any pictures of him?”

“No. I burned them all.”

“I should be able to come up with something. Can you describe him for me?”

“He’s tall.” She surveyed him. “Not as tall as you. He might be as big but he’s not as … fit.”

Every man probably seemed big to her, as tiny as she was.

“Dark hair. Hazel eyes.” She shuddered.

Clearly she didn’t like his eyes. They probably scared her.

“He wore jeans and one of his Armani Collezioni dress shirts. It was dark blue. He always spent a lot of money on his clothes. He hoarded his money for them, even though he had plenty for both of us to shop like that. He was furious if I ever spent money on anything other than clothes I needed to be seen with him in public. He made me go to consignment stores, where I’d find used brand names. He kept me from seeing my friends and never let me out of his sight except when he went to work, and even then he checked on me constantly to make sure I didn’t go anywhere. It’s a miracle he didn’t feed me dog food.”

Ford had to stifle a chuckle. The tone of her voice told him how much she hadn’t liked the way her ex-husband had treated her, but she was able to inject some humor into it. Jed had lavished himself with luxurious items and forced her to cut corners. Was that why material things were important to her? No one was going to stop her from doing what she wanted now? From spending money the way she wanted to? He liked the hint of rebellion in her. Innocent rebellion. She could have decided to run a key down the side of her ex’s car, but instead she treated herself to shopping sprees. Bo had told him she’d come to town with money, her ex-husband’s money. Her money now.

The waitress returned with the coffee and water. He put down his pen to sip, seeing Gemma do the same.

“Bo said Jed followed you here.”

She lowered her glass and answered solemnly, “Yes.”

“Where did he come from?”

“Casper, Wyoming.” She provided an address, putting her elbows on the table.

“How long were you married?”

“Not long. Three years.”

“Did he beat you before this incident?”

“Yes. It started around the first year of our marriage. By the end of that last year it got really bad. At first he didn’t get physical very often and he always apologized. I think he genuinely was sorry and just couldn’t help himself, you know? It gradually got worse.” She shook her head in disgust and slipped her hands down to her lap. “This time was worse than ever, though. I had never required a doctor until now.”

“How did he find you? Did you tell him where you were going?”

“No. No way. I don’t know … he probably found out through my old job.” She rubbed her hands on her pants, which fitted her body perfectly, he recalled.

“We’ll get a restraining order going, and I’ll arrange for some scheduled patrols to watch your house.”

Smiling her appreciation, she stopped nervously rubbing her pants. Her smile derailed his train of thought again.

“Samuel said you would,” she said, snapping him out of his trance.

“Really? He said I would?”

“No, I mean he said the police would.”

The fondness in her voice didn’t go unnoticed. “How did he find out?”

“I don’t know. He came to the hospital to see how I was doing. He was very nice.”

That’s what he wanted everyone to believe. But Grayson was anything but nice.

Ford was onto Grayson and his cult. Only the FBI team sent to investigate him knew how much attention he was giving to five murders and the mysterious disappearances of people who once lived here. They’d all occurred after Grayson had arrived. He was very good at escaping incrimination. He had a network of henchmen and followers and never left any trails. In order for Bo to protect Samuel, he needed Ford, a figure of law-abiding goodness in the department.

Ford would let him keep thinking he could use him like that. So far it had worked in his favor. He wouldn’t tell Gemma anything she could reveal to either Bo or Samuel that would jeopardize that. But there was one thing he meant to find out from her.

Taking the bill from the waitress, he gave it back to her with his debit card.

“Are you close to Samuel Grayson?” he asked Gemma.

“I wouldn’t say close. He’s shown me a lot of kindness and I love what he does for this town. And for me.”

“What has he done for you?”

Taking a moment to think, she finally said, “Made me feel stronger. And safe.” Her fond expression warmed even more. “He sent me you.”

Ford withheld a sarcastic remark. Samuel ran the town, and as long as no one crossed him no one disappeared. There was nothing to love about him or his motives. He was good at fooling people. Especially newcomers. And vulnerable women like Gemma.

“You attend his seminars on a regular basis?” he asked.

Once again, her megawatt smile threw him off balance. “Oh, yes! They’re so wonderful. Samuel is such a great speaker. He’s helped me heal after all I’ve gone through. I don’t know what I would have done without him, without the seminars. They’re exactly what I need right now.”

He smiled back, wishing she was praising anything other than Grayson and those mind-warping seminars.

“Samuel is an incredible man. He’s a visionary. Inspirational, and … a real beacon of hope.”

Ford could believe that, given her history of abuse. Any kind of encouragement would soak into her like water into a paper towel.

“Have you gone to any of them?” she asked, still dreamy-eyed.

He couldn’t stop a cynical chuckle. The idea of going to any of the sessions was comical. “No.”

At the sound of his bold voice, she angled her head and a coy look entered her eyes. “Would it threaten your manhood?”

“No.” He shook his head. Not even close.

“Then why don’t you go?”

“I don’t need them,” he answered simply.

His reply only seemed to feed her coyness, which he was reluctant to call infatuation. “You’re already the best man you can be?”

“If that’s the way you want to look at it, yes.”

“I like a man who’s sure of himself.”

He liked a woman who smiled the way she did. He looked at her straight white teeth and the light of happiness sparkling in her beautiful eyes. After all she’d been through, she still had a sunny side. And a strong side, too. He doubted those seminars had anything to do with that. It was natural, something that had already been there, had been awakened with a little encouragement. She met his gaze and they fell into a long stare that he began to feel too much.

The waitress returned with his card and receipt and he was glad to add the tip and be done with this.

Standing, he tucked the pen and notebook into his shirt pocket. “That’s enough for now. I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“Okay.” She seemed awkward now, as if she’d noticed the change in him.

She led him out the front door and he helped her to her car in the community-center parking lot.

“Are you okay to drive?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. I’m better now, other than a few cuts and bruises.”

He nodded once and handed her his business card. “Just in case.”

She smiled, but not as brightly as before, and took the card. “Thanks.” He wondered if she was disappointed because she thought he wasn’t interested. He was, and that was the problem. Not only was he on duty, falling in love wasn’t his thing. Not that he’d fall in love with Gemma. He didn’t even welcome the possibility to present itself. Maybe when he was older … years from now. One round of that was enough to keep him casual for a while, and Gemma didn’t strike him as the casual type.

As he watched her drive away, he noticed a boy sitting on a motorcycle who looked familiar. He was parked in a space that was partially concealed by a tree and shrubs and seemed to be watching the entrance to the center. Tall and lean, he wore a helmet that hid shaggy black hair and a Ryan Gosling face.

Ford followed his look and saw Grayson emerge with a couple in their early fifties. Mr. and Mrs. Monroe. Two of Grayson’s Devotees? Curtis Monroe seemed to be. His wife appeared rather bored.

Looking back at the boy, he finally placed him. Dillon was the couple’s teenaged son. The boy spotted him and started the motorcycle, glancing once more at his parents before motoring away. Why had he been watching the community center?

Ford turned back to Grayson, who waved as the couple headed for the parking lot. Then Grayson saw Ford and waved again in greeting.

Ford saluted him, turning toward his Escalade. Some day the man would be behind bars. And he was going to do everything he could to help put him there.

He probably thought she was stupid. You’re already the best man you can be? Had she actually said that? Gemma stopped her brand-new red Charger in her gravel driveway where a cement path led to the front door of her house.

She had no plans to find a boyfriend. Yet, meeting Ford had her flirting without reservation. It had come naturally. She hadn’t even thought to hold back the impulse. Impulse had led her to marry Jed and look where that had gotten her. She had to learn to use her head with men. Jed had shown her that not every man could be trusted.

Maybe Ford made her feel safe and that’s why she’d lost her head. He was a cop. A handsome cop. Seeing him standing outside the community center in front of his big black Escalade had given her the impression of ominous power. He hadn’t disappointed close up, either. His blue eyes had riveted her. His wind-tousled blond hair made her imagine running her fingers through the thick, healthy strands. His height and muscular build only added to his general aura of indomitable strength and resolve. Sureness built from experience. And then there was the uniform. Something about it fascinated her. He was a lawman. A representation of everything Jed wasn’t.

Ford’s effect on her still lingered, warm and mysterious. Jed had made her feel things, too. Things that had turned out to be false. Just because Ford was a cop didn’t mean she could throw her heart at him and trust him to take care of it. She had to stop jumping into relationships that way. Heart first.

Getting out of her car and pressing the lock button on her fob, she walked toward the front door of the old house she’d bought. She glanced around to make sure Jed didn’t pop out of the fading light. The sun had sunk beyond the horizon but the sky still held a blue hue, casting her house in shadows. Two stories with gabled windows and a covered porch, it was painted a dark steel blue with off-white trim and had a maroon door. White daisies flourished along the front. Their glowing white pedals were eerie in the dimming light.

She stepped up the stairs and used her key to unlock the door, glancing around again. When she stepped inside, freshly treated dark wood floors, white trim and neutrally colored walls would normally welcome her. Instead she looked for signs of Jed. Pausing to lock the door, she listened for any sounds. Silence. Nothing had changed since she’d left. Everything was as it had been.

She turned and passed an open stairway on her way to the kitchen, flipping on a light to chase the shadows away. Still, she couldn’t shake the apprehension warning her that Jed might reappear. She’d had a bad feeling when he’d started sending her emails. It was as if he was stalking her. She’d shown the emails to Lacy, who’d been concerned and that had made Gemma worry more. He hadn’t threatened her in them, only pleaded with her to come home. Creepy. And then he’d shown up in Cold Plains, exactly what she’d feared.

She wondered if Lacy had been the one to tell Samuel about her attack. Lacy had been the first person she’d called. Since she’d moved here, they’d grown close. Gemma met her at the coffee shop and she’d invited her to a seminar. They’d struck up an instant friendship.

After opening the refrigerator, Gemma shut it again, no longer craving iced tea. She was too unsettled, unable to quell the feeling of lurking danger. Her gaze travelled over the soft green cabinets to the colorful window dressings above the darkened window.

She tried to redirect her focus, turning it toward the house she loved so much. All the furniture and appliances were the best money could buy, thanks to a long-building savings account she’d kept secret, and the sizable chunk of money she’d taken from Jed. It wasn’t all his money anyway. They’d been married and he’d lost that part of the court proceedings. The judge had given her even more than she’d asked for. Half of everything, and everything was a lot. His parents had left him a fortune before alcoholism killed them in their fifties. She figured Jed owed her anyway, after the way he’d abused her and hoarded their money. He was an animal disguised as a successful orthopedic doctor. He probably enjoyed setting broken bones for the pain it caused his patients.

Lifting her hand, she felt the sore skin around her temple where his fist had split it open. Then she glided it down to her swollen nose and mouth where a cut still stung. She still hurt deep inside her torso but those bruises were healing now. Her leg muscles were sore from trying to kick him or fight free of him. Her shoulders. Her whole body was sore from the violent struggle.

When I come back, you better be ready, he’d hissed in that evil voice she’d learned to dread. Full of warped love. You’ll either come back home with me, or I’ll kill you, Gemma.

Just before letting her battered body drop to the floor of this very room, he’d added, You’re my wife.

She wasn’t. Not anymore. He was just crazy. Pure crazy. Didn’t he remember the divorce? He’d been furious with the outcome, with how much the judge had given her of his money. Let her take it. Steal it, as he’d said. Maybe that was enough to make him snap. He’d snapped long before that, but he’d never threatened to kill her before. It didn’t matter. She believed him now.

Sighing, she looked around her beautiful kitchen, small but quaint with tiled countertops sparsely adorned with glass canisters and a basket of red apples. The single white-trimmed back door led to a courtyard-like backyard, bursting with wildflowers, and a terraced vegetable garden. She wished he hadn’t attacked her here. He’d poisoned her fresh start. Her new life in a safe town. He’d shaken her security and she hated him for that. She hated herself more for allowing it to happen.

Her mother would say, “I told you so,” speaking from experience. She hadn’t done any better with her own husband. Mom had always dreamed of finding that special someone who’d take care of her. Take care of everything, including her own thinking. Except she’d missed the part where she had to choose the right man. And now it looked as if she’d passed that lack of talent onto her girls. Gemma had most certainly chosen badly. Her sister, Gillian, didn’t appear to want to settle down yet. She was too busy sleeping with every man who’d have her. No good choice in any of them, either.

All Gemma had ever wanted was to find her way. Being raised by a mother who’d struggled to support the three of them had set her back. Not because of the lack of money, because her mother was incapable of taking charge of her own life. Gemma had spent too much time growing up without guidance. She’d needed guidance. It hadn’t been until she’d arrived in Cold Plains and met Samuel Grayson that she’d realized that. She was handicapped. But not anymore. Now she had the guidance she so desperately needed. With it, she’d find herself and she’d grow in the right direction and succeed. She’d be whole for the first time in her life.

It was exhilarating. Just knowing she had the power to overcome. Having the affirmation. The support. Her soul was starved for it. Living here gave her a glimmer of real happiness and the hope to prosper. No way was she giving that up. Somehow she’d have to deal with Jed. She’d have to face him, on his terms if necessary. With violence. Somehow she’d find the courage. Right now, though, she had her doubts. His timing couldn’t be worse. She was still weak. He’d made her that way. And he meant to keep her that way.

A sound at the front door sent her heart into a frantic rhythm. Someone had just tried the knob. Was Jed back already? He hadn’t said how long he’d give her. The sun had set now and it was dark in her living room.

Walking softly to the kitchen drawer, Gemma slid it open and lifted a butcher knife. Next, she went to the table where she’d left her purse and began digging for her cell phone and the card Ford had given her. Clutching both, she went to the front window and peeked around the edge of the swooping deep blue drapes to look through the open wood blinds. She couldn’t see very far through the darkness and she hadn’t yet turned on her exterior lights.

Her heart throbbed, fear tightening her throat and drying her mouth. What should she do? Had she imagined the sound? No. Someone had tried to open the door. Jed. She’d left it open for him before. Maybe he thought he’d get lucky again.

Going to the front door, she flipped the light switch beside it and peered through the peephole. Nothing. Just as she began to relax, breaking glass from the kitchen made her jump and turn. Jed stood on the other side of her back door, his arm reaching inside to unlock the door.

Screaming, she faced the door again and tried to release the lock. The knife and the phone made it difficult. She couldn’t put them down. She had to call for help. But how would she do that? She wouldn’t have time. With a frantic glance behind her, she saw Jed storming into her kitchen, deep-set, light gray eyes full of evil. He was almost six feet tall and well-muscled without being stocky. A terrifying sight.

The knife fell to the floor as she released the lock. She yanked open the door just as Jed reached her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. She lost her balance and fell against one of her wingback chairs, dropping the phone. It bounced to a standstill under the antique coffee table.

Jed slammed the front door shut, a crazy man full of hatred. “Are you packed?”

Gemma debated trying to go for the phone. The knife was too far away, and too close to Jed’s advancing feet.

“I asked you a question!”

She scrambled around the chair and backward toward the table. “Stay away from me!”

He kept coming toward her, long slow strides full of murderous intent.

Reaching for the phone, she grabbed it and pressed 911. Jed kicked her wrist before she could press Send, and the phone sailed across the room.

Crying out in pain, she rolled out of the way of a second blow and stumbled to her feet. The knife.

It was near the door, on the other side of Jed. She’d have to get past him. Shoving the heavy chair in front of her, she leapt around it, grabbing the painting of an old barn surrounded by a field of wildflowers off the wall on her way. As Jed moved to intercept her, she swung the painting. The thick frame hit him. He blocked any damage it might have done with his arm, but it was enough to knock him off balance. She was able to get past him and ran to the door, stooping to pick up the knife and yanking the door open.

Jed grabbed her around the waist. She stabbed his arm with the knife. He growled in agony and released her. She ran through the door and jumped over the steps of her porch to land on the walkway. She ran across her lawn toward her neighbor’s house.

“Help!” she screamed. “Help me!”

She kept screaming and screaming, hoping someone would hear her, hoping Jed would leave.

Across the street, an old woman opened the door. Martha. That was her name. She lived there with her granddaughter. Gemma talked to her every once in a while. She and her granddaughter didn’t share much of their lives with anyone. They kept to themselves.

Martha moved out of the way as Gemma ran up the stairs of her porch and bolted through the entrance, scurrying to slam the door shut.

“Great goats! Are you all right?” Martha asked breathlessly, shaking with alarm.

“Call the police!”

Chapter 2

This was the second time Dillon Monroe had followed his dad to this old Victorian inn. The Stillwater used to be the home of a Cold Plains settler who had been driven out of town after Samuel Grayson arrived and started making changes. Why was his dad meeting with that freak and a bunch of knuckle-draggers?

Easing out from behind the thick trunk of a tree, Dillon made his way through a bed of immaculate landscaping that during the day was a palate of weed-free color. There was a lot of that in this town. He stepped up to the front doors and entered the foyer where an ornately trimmed registration desk gleamed beneath a crystal chandelier. A man was speaking to a woman standing there beside him and neither looked at Dillon. To his right, double French doors opened to a dimly lit bar. A woman sat there, a glass of water in front of her. She looked familiar. The owner of Cold Plains Coffee. What was she doing here all by herself? Drinking water in a bar. Weird.

“Good evening, sir.”

Turning to his left, he saw another pair of French doors that opened to a room full of candlelit tables covered in white linen underneath two more chandeliers. The brown-eyed hostess behind a wooden stand had just acknowledged him. Dressed in an elegant black dress and sparkling earrings with her dark hair smoothed back into an elegant bun, she fitted Samuel’s demands for perfection. She was probably about three years older than Dillon, which put her around twenty-one. He was pretty tall and she was almost to his nose in height. Good-looking, and he didn’t miss how she checked him out from his black hair and hazel eyes all the way down his lanky form before she asked, “Your name?”

You had to have reservations to come to a joint like this. He searched for Whack Job Hollywood among the late-evening diners. There weren’t many. It was going on ten. “I’m here to see Samuel Grayson.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“No. Is he here yet?”

After a few uncertain blinks, her gaze flitted into the foyer. Dillon turned and saw a narrow, open doorway leading down into the basement.

He faced the girl again. “Look, I don’t want to cause you any trouble. I just need to speak with him for a minute.” He didn’t, actually. He was here to find out why his dad was here.

The hostess didn’t respond, but glanced around as though checking to see if anyone had heard.

“Pretend I was never here.” Smiling at her, he walked out of the dining area. A wider stairway opposite the basement passage led to the upper-level rooms. The man and woman behind the fancy registration counter were still busy talking. The woman in the bar didn’t seem to see him.

Dillon reached the threshold of the stairs. Descending them, he entered what appeared to have once been the servants’ kitchen and now functioned as the hotel staff’s food-prep area for what had to be a small conference center. Heavy wooden double doors probably led to a meeting room. The doors were closed.

Moving closer, he heard muffled voices filtered through from the other side. He put his hand on the door handle and began to push.

“You there!”

Dillon jumped around to see a big burly man approaching him from the stairway. Tall and slick in a suit and tie, he looked as rich as all the other knuckle-draggers Dillon had seen with Grayson. Was his dad trying to become one of them?

“Are you lost?” he asked.

“I was looking for someone.” Dillon brushed past the man and climbed the stairs. Back in the foyer, he saw the woman who’d been in the bar standing there, and beyond her, the elaborately coiffed hostess watching nervously from behind her stand. He glanced back and saw the burly man enter the foyer. Time to go.

Outside, artificial light illuminated his way. Past the circular drive, he stepped onto the lawn and looked back to check how safe he was. The big man had stopped on the front porch, holding a radio to his mouth. Safe enough. He wasn’t going to follow.

Dillon jumped over a cluster of pansies, his feet crunching on mulch as he maneuvered through the wide and curving border. When darkness cloaked him, he stopped. The knuckle-dragger still stood on the front porch. Dillon moved behind the trunk of a pine tree and waited.

Rustling in some nearby shrubbery made him turn. There was someone there. He walked toward the sound and stopped when he saw a girl. She inhaled her alarm, taking a step back. He recognized her. She was new to town. She and her grandmother had just moved here. She had long, thick, dark brown hair and green eyes, but it was her hot body that had always caught his eye.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“What are you doing here?” she countered.

Had she recognized him? “Why are you hiding in the trees?”

Pursing her lips, she folded her arms and stuck out a trim hip. “Why are you?”

He chuckled and held out his hand. “I’m Dillon Monroe.”

After a brief hesitation, she shook his hand. “Hallie Taylor.”

“I know who you are. We go to the same school. Did you come here for dinner?” He knew she hadn’t but he played ignorant.

She frowned while she studied him. “You go to Cold Plains High?”

He nodded. She didn’t recognize him. “I’m a senior.” Or he would be in the fall.

“I’m going to be a junior.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I noticed you at school last year. You’re new to town, right?”

“Yeah.”

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, and they were standing in the landscaping like a couple of delinquents.

Finally, he glanced back at the inn. “Samuel Grayson is in there.”

She frowned again, this time from a different kind of curiosity. “Is that why you’re here? Did you have dinner with him?”

“No. My parents are friends with him. I can’t stand the man.”

She seemed to ease her tension, but there was an element of distrust that surrounded her. She did seem really quiet at school. She hung out with one girl and didn’t seem to have many other friends. Not popular, but she could be. She was pretty enough. She just wasn’t all that outgoing. He wondered if the reason she was here had anything to do with that.

Her gaze shifted and he looked toward the inn again. Samuel emerged with his goons, but someone else with him made Dillon take notice. Chief of Police Bo Fargo.

“I knew it!” Hallie said, moving beside him.

Dillon looked over at her. “I thought you came here for dinner.”

Her green eyes moved up to meet his confrontation. “I never said I came here for dinner.”

He grinned because she’d fallen right into his trap. If she hadn’t come for dinner, why was she here, hiding in the trees?

“I better get going.” She started walking toward the road on the other side of the trees that encompassed the inn.

“Hey, I don’t care why you were here. I came to spy on Grayson and I’m pretty sure you came to do the same.”

She didn’t stop or acknowledge him.

He could understand her fear. Her reason for being here had to stay secret. If the wrong person found out, she might catch Grayson’s attention.

They reached a bicycle lying on the ground and she picked it up.

Dillon touched her arm to stop her. “My truck is right up the street. I can drive you home.”

“I can ride my bike.”

Just then a silver BMW drove by with Grayson in the back. He saw them. The BMW passed without stopping and Dillon let his held breath out. That was close.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

She didn’t argue as he took the bike from her and pushed it to his twenty-year-old blue-and-white Chevy truck. While he put it into the back, she looked up the street, chewing her bottom lip.

He opened the passenger door for her and she got inside. Walking around, he sat behind the wheel and started the engine. Hallie told him where she lived but fell into deep thought after he began driving.

“My dad hangs out with Samuel all the time,” Dillon put out there. It’d be great if she started talking. Maybe they could team up.

Her gaze moved for a tentative glance but she said nothing.

“That’s why I started watching him,” he continued as though he hadn’t noticed. “I followed him to the inn tonight. I think Samuel did something to change him. Not that my dad was all that great before. He’s always treated my mom like dirt. She hates going anywhere with him anymore, but he keeps making her. He likes going to the community center all the time. There’s something weird going on there.”

Hallie’s head turned a small degree, enough for her eyes to once again glance his way.

“My mom’s been drinking a lot. I’m starting to get really worried about her.”

“Is that why you’re following your dad?”

Finally. He’d gotten her to talk. “Yeah. She needs someone to watch over her. My dad’s not going to. He’s going to drag her into a garbage can.”

“That’s really sweet. That you’re watching over her.”

Sweet? He’d kick his dad’s behind if he ever hurt his mom again. “I saw a tattoo of D on his hip.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know if my mom has one, but I bet she does. He probably forced her to do it with him.” That made him so mad.

“Even if she didn’t want to?”

“She drinks way too much. It’s like she tries to blot out the fact that he’s turning into a whack job and taking her with him. Compliments of Grayson.” He didn’t even try to hide his disgust. He used to be close to his dad. Now his dad barely noticed when he came and went.

“What are you going to do?” Hallie asked.

Without even telling him, she’d revealed their common interest. They both despised Samuel Grayson.

“Keep following my dad. Maybe I’ll catch him or Grayson doing something wrong.”

“Are you blind? Bo Fargo was there.” Her emotion gave away the reason she’d gone to the inn. Bo Fargo.

He didn’t ask her why. She probably wouldn’t tell him anyway. “He’s one man in a whole police department.”

“The Chief of Police.”

“Not everyone supports Samuel Grayson.”

“Yeah, but who would that be?”

“Ford McCall wasn’t at the inn tonight. He doesn’t meet Grayson anywhere.”

After a moment, she asked, “You think he isn’t one of them?”

“He never goes to any of those seminars, and I never see him anywhere Grayson is unless the whole town is there.”

They reached the street where she lived. As he drove around the corner, flashing lights elicited a startled gasp from Hallie.

“My grandmother!”

After frantically running to every window and door to make sure they were all locked, Gemma didn’t think she’d ever been happier to see firemen and police officers. The five minutes it had taken for them to get here seemed like hours, each second spent frightened out of her mind that Jed would find a way inside Martha’s house. The firemen had already checked her out and the police had arrived to ask questions. She and Martha had just finished answering them. Gemma looked for Ford again—she’d done that several times. Where was he?

Gemma joined Martha on the sofa. The woman’s gravity-ravaged face and stunning light blue eyes were drawn with strain. She’d given the poor old woman quite a scare.

“I think you saved my life tonight, Martha.”

Martha’s smile eased the lines of tension. “I haven’t had this much excitement since my son went missing. My old ticker can’t take much more of that.” She patted her chest above her large and sagging breasts.

What she’d said about her son caught Gemma’s attention in a hurry. “Your son is missing?”

“Mmm-hmm. Since a few months ago.”

“Do you know what happened to him?”

With that, the old woman grew uncertain. “The police say they’re looking for him.”

It didn’t sound as though she believed that.

“They think he left of his own free will,” she added.

“But you don’t think so?”

What Gemma had thought was uncertainty became something else entirely. Distrust. Martha eyed Gemma with anxious hesitation.

Her discussion with Ford gave her a moment of uncertainty herself. Was there something going on in this town? Something that made Martha suspicious of her neighbors?

Someone burst through the door. Gemma looked up, expecting Ford. When she saw Martha’s granddaughter charging into the room, followed by a slightly older boy, she restrained her disappointment. There were plenty of policemen here. She didn’t need Ford.

“Grandma!” the girl yelled.

The boy entered the house and stopped just inside.

Using the armrest for support, Martha stood up from the sofa and the girl threw herself against her for a hug. “Oh, my God. Are you okay?”

“Great goats, Hallie, I’m fine. It was our neighbor who needed help.” She leaned back. “Gemma was attacked by her ex-husband again.”

The girl glanced down at Gemma and then began touching her grandmother all over as though having to feel for herself that she was all right. It was so moving. Gemma had never had anything like that growing up. She’d never felt that close to her mother.

“We drove up and there were all those lights.” Hallie’s eyes misted. “I was so scared.”

Martha gave her granddaughter a kiss on her cheek. “Oh, now, you see everything is all right.”

“I didn’t know, with all the trouble we’ve been—” She shot a look at Gemma. “I just didn’t know.”

What had the girl stopped herself from saying? Trouble with what? Martha’s son? Hallie had to be his daughter.

“Gemma!”

At the sound of the rich, deep voice so full of concern, Gemma looked up to see Ford striding toward her, maneuvering through firemen and police officers to reach her. The sight of him sent sparks of gladness chasing through her. She couldn’t explain why. Why was he different than the other officers? She didn’t care.

She stood as he neared.

Instead of taking her into his arms as she half-expected, he took her hands and surveyed her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

He surveyed her all over again. “Are you sure?”

“I got away before he hurt me.” Again.

“Or killed you,” he shocked her by saying, reminding her that Jed had promised to take her home … or kill her if she refused. She shuddered.

Ford rubbed her arms. “I should have been there.”

He was concerned. Really concerned. More than a police officer should be. Absurdly, this was exactly what she craved. For him to be here, making her feel safe … and more.

Seeming aware of the intimacy at the same moment, he regained his composure. “What happened?”

She reiterated what she’d already told the other officers. “He got away.” And that was what bothered her most. When she’d been racing from window to window inside Martha’s house, the night had cloaked him. Where was he? When would he show up next? Where would she be? Was he waiting outside? She’d have to watch over her shoulder constantly. And locking her house wouldn’t be enough. What was she going to do?

She looked through the darkened window. In daytime she could see her house from here. Now she only saw her porch light. She didn’t want to go home. What if he was out there now? Watching the police. Waiting …

“Don’t worry, Gemma,” Ford said, bringing her gaze up to his gorgeous blue eyes. “I’ll find him.”

Movement at the front door made her turn with Ford. Bo Fargo entered. Big and tall, walking with an air of steamrolling intensity. He was older, in his fifties, with thinning brown hair. As he drew nearer, his bleary blue eyes drilled her with what she suspected was annoyance and forced concern.

“I heard what happened.” He came to a stop next to Ford and asked Gemma, “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She was getting tired of being asked. “Fine.”

“You were lucky to get away from him.” No mincing of words there. He definitely was a man who demanded respect. But there was something darker there, too.

Averting her gaze, she spotted Hallie handing her grandmother a cup of hot tea. Then she noticed the firemen had gone, and the other officers were beginning to do the same. It left her empty and full of dread. Soon she’d have to face her house alone. The glass in her back door was broken.

“You can stay here for the night.”

Gemma turned to see Hallie.

“Right, Grandma?” Hallie asked Martha.

“Of course, dear.” Martha looked at Gemma. “We have plenty of room.”

“Thank you.” The two had no idea what that meant to her. Or maybe they did. But then the way Hallie watched Bo caught her suspicion. She all but glared at the man. The boy she’d entered the house with moved to her side, watching along with her. What was that all about?

“This is the second time Jed Johnson has gotten away, Ford,” Bo said. “I thought you were going to assign a patrol to Gemma’s house.”

Ford’s reaction was full of resentment. “I did.”

There hadn’t been enough time.

“Well, apparently it isn’t enough.”

“According to whom?”

Gemma did a double take at Ford’s retort. Clearly he wasn’t afraid of his boss.

The Chief of Police didn’t appear offended; challenged, maybe, but not offended or angry. He knew he was in charge. Or thought he was. “We can’t have this kind of crime happening here in Cold Plains. It ruins our stellar reputation. Our peace-loving culture. Something like this threatens the morale.” He turned to Gemma. “Isn’t that right?”

He was asking her? “W-well … I suppose so.” She didn’t like feeling afraid to go home. Her house was her sanctuary. Was her sanctuary. That had been stolen from her. By that worthless wife-beater of an ex-husband she so stupidly married in the first place!

Ooh … she was going to find something really frivolous to blow a sizable chunk of his money on.

Noticing Ford’s brooding presence, she wondered what made him dislike Bo.

“A patrol obviously isn’t enough,” Bo reiterated. “Samuel suggested that it might be a good idea if you stayed with Ms. Johnson until our perpetrator is captured. I happen to agree.”

Gemma covered her surprise and saw Ford doing the same.

“Samuel wants Ford to stay with me?” To protect her?

Bo smiled, cunning and sureness abounding. Indomitable cunning. “Yes, he does, Ms. Johnson. He was not at all happy to hear that you were attacked again. He cares a great deal about your well-being. He cares even more about the well-being of this town. He would care about any woman who’s been brutalized. He wants you to feel safe, and I intend to make sure that you do.”

While that sentiment eased a lot of her anxiety in a giant rush, she also hesitated. Samuel seemed to be going overboard for her. Or was Bo accurate when he said he cared about any woman who’d been brutalized? Yes. Samuel was out for the good of the town as a whole.

“Of course, it’s ultimately up to you, but I do agree with Samuel that it’s in your best interest to have an officer at your house when you’re there. You shouldn’t be alone until we capture Jed.”

“I …” She looked at Ford, whose hard eyes met hers.

“If not Ford, then someone else,” Bo looked at Ford expectantly.

“I’ll do it,” Ford snapped, and then softly to her, “But only if you agree.”

Torn, Gemma looked from Ford to Bo and then through the front window. Though her house was still well-lit, it may as well be in Amityville.

Slowly, she met Ford’s eyes again. “I would hate to impose on your time …”

“It would be no trouble.” Ford’s voice was calm and every bit as sure as Bo had been. “I’d rather not risk another attack, either.”

She smiled up at him and he looked at her mouth.

“Then it’s settled,” Bo interrupted. “You’ll stay with Gemma until Jed is caught.”

“Only if you’re sure,” Ford said, never moving his gaze from her.

“I have a guest room on the first level. You’ll be very comfortable.”

“Don’t worry about accommodating me, Ms. Johnson. I’ll just be doing my job.”

Protecting her. Making her feel safe. “Gemma.”

“Gemma,” he said in his deep voice.

A flutter of excitement warned her to be careful. So did the softening of his blue eyes. The blink that followed cleared it too soon and she felt him withdraw into the role of protector.

“You’ll be a lot more comfortable at Gemma’s house than that apartment you rent,” Bo said. “She’s fixed it up into a model of what we like to see here in town.”

“It did need a little work when I moved here.”

“It’s a beautiful place. Cold Plains wouldn’t be what it is without good people like you. Rest assured, we’ll keep Jed away from you from here on out.”

A surge of warm gratitude filled her even while she wondered why he and Samuel were being so kind to her. What was it about this town? Everyone seemed that way. It was almost too good to be true. But too good to be true was her medicine right now.

“I can’t tell you what that means to me,” she said. “I’m so happy to have found a place to live like this. It’s … it’s just … what home should be.”

Beside her, Ford eyed her askance and then turned his silent watchfulness back to Bo. The negative undercurrents couldn’t be missed, leaving Gemma wondering where they came from.

Late afternoon the next day, Gemma watched Ford close the front door after the handyman had finished replacing the window in her back patio door. Before she’d even thought to fix the window, Ford had arranged everything. Now he turned and looked at her. She’d been watching him all day, and he’d caught her many of those times. Starting with breakfast, through his many patrols of her house and yard. All afternoon while he oversaw the handyman and took calls for work. She’d tried to occupy herself with chores. Laundry. The kitchen. Reading. Always he was near, and she was drawn to him.

Staring at him from across the living room grew awkward. She turned away and headed for her back patio, loving her new window and the way it erased Jed’s presence. Outside, birds chirped and the sun lit up a clear blue sky. No wind rustled the leaves of her plum tree. Bees visited her wildflower garden. She moved over to the new fountain she’d purchased after the handyman left. It was big, elaborate and expensive, and water trickled over three tiers of beautifully carved stone. She could almost enjoy the pleasure of a simple, warm summer day.

She sat down on her one-of-a-kind, intricately and colorfully tiled patio table and put her feet up on the adjacent chair. Toying with the bracelet on her wrist, she looked down at the dangling sapphires and diamonds. Jed had bought the expensive piece for her. He’d even engraved her name in it. With love. She didn’t wear it because of that. She wore it for the constant reminder of what marrying a monster had done to her, a reminder of a mistake never to make again. She hadn’t kept anything else he’d given her, not that there was much. Falling for Ford as fast as she was couldn’t be a step in the right direction. She had to be careful. Take her time. Be decisive. Ford might seem like a good and honest man, a cop, but she needed time to heal from being with someone totally opposite. She couldn’t afford to be impulsive with men anymore.

A sound made her look over her shoulder toward the door.

Ford leaned against the doorjamb, eyes partially squinted against the sun in a western sky. He had his hands in the front pockets of his faded jeans and his ankles were crossed. The soft denim fitted him well, resting comfortably at his waist just beneath a flat stomach. And had any man looked sexier in an impeccably pressed, white long-sleeved shirt? The badge clipped over the left side of his muscular chest had to help with that.

Realizing she was really checking him out, she was about to turn away when she noticed him doing the same with her. Their eyes met. She averted hers first, too in danger of giving in to impulse.

“Fountain looks good.”

“Thanks.”

“Punishing your ex?”

She smiled, hearing his affectionate tone. “Yes.”

He chuckled. “Fourth of July is the day after tomorrow.”

Was all this small talk masking their brewing attraction? “Yeah. Town’s got a big celebration planned.” Elaborate. The streets would be lined with flowers and vendors selling food and souvenirs. A band was hired and a huge fireworks display would go off over the park. She’d heard about it all week. It would be the grandest fireworks display in the entire state of Wyoming.

Standing, she moved to the edge of the patio.

“I need you to stay close to me.”

She faced him, taking another sneak peek at him in those jeans. “Okay.” She’d have done that anyway.

Catching his gaze moving from her chest to her face, she felt as though the fireworks were starting early right here on her back patio. She checked for a wedding ring and didn’t see one. Why would a man who looked as good as him not be taken by now? Surely he had to at least have a girlfriend.

“How old are you?” she asked. He didn’t look much older than her.

A slight smile toyed with his mouth and then vanished as though he’d curtailed the enjoyment of her question and the possibility that she was interested in more than his protection. “Twenty-eight.”

Only three years older than her.

“Your girlfriend must not like you having to stay here,” she said, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious, a roundabout way of finding out if he was single. And why was she doing that anyway?

He pushed off the door frame and stepped onto the patio, walking in that macho way of his to the edge of the artfully placed stone. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Does your family live here?”

“I don’t have a family.”

The flat sound of his tone alerted her curiosity. “None?” Surely he had some kind of family.

He was standing so close to her she could smell his cologne. Nice. Subtle. Deep and just enough spice. But his short answers had her wondering. “What about your parents?”

Looking out into the yard, he didn’t respond. Whatever had happened to his parents was painful for him to talk about.

“Don’t you have anyone close?” How sad if he didn’t.

He turned back to her with much less angst. “Anna. She’s my … mother.”

Gemma didn’t know what to say. Anna was a mother figure to him and he’d obviously lost his real parents somehow.

“She won’t be able to stay away,” he said with a fond grin, surprising her. He didn’t have any trouble talking about Anna. “Knowing I’m shacked up with a woman.”

She smiled. “You’re working. Bo Fargo told you to stay with me.”

“That won’t matter. She’ll take one look at you and …” He didn’t finish.

“And what?” She had to bite back the direct questions popping up in her mind. What had happened to his parents? How had he come to be close to this woman named Anna?

His gaze fell all over her body. “Never mind.”

“Too late, Deputy McCall,” she coaxed. “What will she think?”

He grunted his amusement. “That there’s something going on between us.”

“She’d like that?” So would Gemma …

“She’s been hounding me lately to settle down again.”

Again? “You were married before?”

The tension reappeared beyond the iron wall that shielded his eyes. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

Wow. That was definitely another touchy subject. He didn’t like talking about his family or his past relationships. Except for Anna. How odd.

Sensing she’d get no more information out of him, she remembered she was supposed to meet Lacy. “Oh.” She checked the time. “I almost forgot. I have to stop by Cold Plains Coffee to pick up Lacy.”

“You have plans tonight?” The annoyance in his tone was unmistakable.

What didn’t he like? The fact that she had to go out and he’d have to go with her or that it was Lacy she was going to see? “We’re going to a seminar.”

“You just went to a seminar.”

Clearly, he didn’t approve of them. “When I called to tell her I couldn’t stop by today, she asked if I’d go with her tonight.”

After a lengthy pause, he said, “Be careful who you befriend at those.”

His warning made her search his eyes to see if he was serious. He was. “Do you mean Lacy?” She laughed a little. Lacy was the friendliest person she’d ever met.

“Haven’t you noticed anything odd about the community center?” He turned to face her full-on.

“No. It’s modern and beautiful and it serves a wonderful purpose.”

“Yeah, yeah. Samuel is a godsend. What would Cold Plains do without him?”

“Why don’t you like Samuel?”

“I don’t like what he’s doing to this town.” He sounded disgusted.

She angled her head in question. Why did he think there was something wrong about Cold Plains? “Who wouldn’t want to live here?” This was paradise compared to where she’d come from.

He leaned against a post supporting her covered patio. “It wasn’t always this way.”

“What way? Perfect? Idyllic? Safe?” At least it had been up until Jed showed up.

“This town was full of crime and cowboys before investors came and turned it into a tourist attraction.”

He didn’t like that? “What’s wrong with improving things?” Gemma asked.

“Nothing.”

She was pretty sure he thought there was something wrong with it. Why was he a cop here if he hated it so much? “You’d rather have it full of crime?”

“No.”

“Then …?”

He stared at her for a long time. “You’re new here.”

What was that supposed to mean? Old-timers knew something she didn’t? She found that so hard to comprehend. Cold Plains was a haven for her.

Straightening from the post, he walked with slow, sure strides to the patio door. “I’ll drive you and Lacy to the community center.”

Following him into her house, she wondered if the reason he didn’t like talking about his family situation had anything to do with his opinion of Cold Plains. She sensed a strong connection between the two. Was he here to right a wrong? Or did he have some kind of vendetta against certain people? Against Samuel Grayson?

Or Bo Fargo? She’d seen the way he’d looked at the man and it hadn’t been friendly. Ford didn’t respect the police chief. But why? He wouldn’t tell her if she asked. He’d already cut the conversation off.

He led her out the front door and she locked it behind her, watching him scan the neighborhood with trained eyes. She wished he didn’t attract her so much. His mysteries kept mounting. And now he’d warned her to be careful who she befriended. Was he one of those she should steer clear of? Instinct told her no. Her heart was drawn to him for some reason. Then again, her heart had been drawn to Jed, too.

She’d be careful all right. She’d be careful not to get too starry-eyed over Ford, police officer or not.

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