Praise for bestselling author Jill Shalvis

“Hot, sweet, fun and romantic! Pure pleasure!”

—bestselling author Robyn Carr

“Shalvis thoroughly engages readers.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Shalvis’ writing is a perfect trifecta of win: hilarious dialogue, evocative and real characters, and settings that are as much a part of the story as the hero and heroine. I’ve never been disappointed by a Shalvis book.”

—SmartBitchesTrashyBooks.com

Praise for bestselling author Leslie Kelly

“Sexy, funny and a little outrageous, Leslie Kelly is a must read!”

—bestselling author Carly Phillips

“Leslie Kelly introduces characters you’ll love spending time with, explores soulmates you’ll dream about, open honest sex and a hero to die for.”

—RT Book Reviews on Naturally Naughty

“[Kelly is] the perfect blend of sass and class!”

—bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

JILL SHALVIS

Bestselling and award-winning author Jill Shalvis has published more than fifty romance novels. The four-time RITA® Award nominee and three-time National Readers’ Choice winner makes her home near Lake Tahoe. Visit her website at www.jillshalvis.com for a complete booklist and her daily blog.

LESLIE KELLY

Bestselling author Leslie Kelly has written dozens of books and novellas for Mills & Boon. Known for her sparkling dialogue, fun characters and steamy sensuality, she has been honored with numerous awards, including a National Reader’s Choice Award, a Colorado Award of Excellence, a Golden Quill and an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award in Series Romance. Leslie has also been nominated four times for the highest award in romance fiction, the RWA RITA® Award. Leslie lives in Maryland with her own romantic hero, Bruce, and their daughters. Visit her online at www.lesliekelly.com, or at her blog, www.plotmonkeys.com.

Bare Essentials
Naughty But Nice
Jill Shalvis
Naturally Naughty
Leslie Kelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

NAUGHTY BUT NICE

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

NATURALLY NAUGHTY

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Naughty But Nice

To Wanda,

You held my hand on this one, and I’ll never forget it.

And to Birgit Davis-Todd,

For always being there when I needed you.

Thanks, ladies, and here’s to many more….

Prologue

Ten Years Ago

THE LINE OF CARS heading out of the Daisy Inn was long but giddy. After all, it was prom night. The night of hopes and dreams. The night of spiked punch and lost virginity. The culmination of high school, where one was to have the time of one’s life.

Unless you were a Tremaine, of course.

In the town of Pleasantville, Ohio, the only thing worse than being a member of that family was being a female member.

Cassie Tremaine Montgomery, an extremely female Tremaine, looked over at her date. Biff Walters. Hard to imagine any mother disliking her newborn son enough to name him Biff. But his name had nothing to do with the reason why Cassie had agreed to go to the prom with the tall, blond, gorgeous—but stupid—football star.

No, the reason had everything to do with his graduation present from his daddy—a cherry-red Corvette.

Since Cassie had a love affair with all things expensive and out of her reach, the convertible had been irresistible.

“Hey, baby,” Biff said, catching her eye and putting his big, beefy, sweaty paw of a hand on her thigh. “You look hot tonight.”

How original. Not. So she was blond and five foot ten, with the stacked body of a Playboy model—she’d been that way since the age of thirteen. Which meant men had been drooling over her for four years now. Added to that was the fact that while the men in her family were bastards—some quite literally—the women were all tramps. No exceptions. There was a rumor it even said so in the law books.

She could live with the stigma, or get the hell out of Pleasantville. The town didn’t care much either way.

Unfortunately as a kid, the second option had never been viable. She and her cousin Kate had grown up learning that lesson all too well. Cassie’s mother, Flo, otherwise known as the town vixen, had long ago guaranteed her daughter’s fate by cheerfully seducing as many of the husbands in town as possible.

By default, Cassie was as unpopular—or popular if you asked the men—as her mother.

Which burned her; it always had. So Flo had a weakness. Men. So what? Everyone had a weakness. At least her mother’s was basically harmless.

“Wanna go to the lake?” Biff asked hopefully.

Ugh. The lake was the typical make-out spot just outside of town. Tonight it’d be crowded with overeager guys toting their dressed-to-the-hilt dates, if they were lucky enough to have coaxed them out there.

Not for her, thank you very much. Cassie didn’t share her mother’s weakness for men, and never would.

“Of course you want to go, you’re a Tremaine.” Biff laughed uproariously at that. His fingers squeezed her thigh and moved upward, leaving a damp streak on the designer silk dress she’d secretly purchased at a thrift store.

“All the Tremaine women love sex.” He was confident on this. “The wilder the better. It’s why I asked you to the prom. Come on, show me what you’ve got, baby.” Leaning over, he planted his mouth on the side of her neck, smearing beer breath over her skin.

Smiling when she wanted to puke, Cassie backed away and combed her fingers through the hairstyle she’d spent hours copying from an ad in Cosmo. Fine price she was going to pay for wanting a cruise through town in a hot car. Now she had to figure a way out of the rest of the night. “What’s the rush?”

“This.” Biff, panting now, put his hand on his erection to adjust himself.

Oh, good God, men were ridiculous. The smell of beer and sweat permeated the car’s close quarters. “Biff, they didn’t let us buy beer before the prom, remember? We got carded.”

“I know.” He looked extremely proud of himself.

“So why do I smell it on you?”

His grin was wide, wicked and stupid. “Jeff had a twelve-pack in the bathroom. He gave me half.”

Six beers. Cassie wasn’t afraid of much, and God knows the town thought her a brainless drunk in the making simply because of the misfortune of her genes but, contrary to popular belief, she was very fond of living. “You drank them all?”

“Yeah.” They pulled out of the inn in a show-off peel of tires. The car swerved, making Cassie grab the dashboard with a gasp.

“Don’t worry, baby.” He sent her another ridiculously dumb grin. “I drive better under the influence.”

Right. Damn it, graduation was only a week away. Freedom loomed like a rainbow over her future. Seven days and she was outta this one-horse town and she wasn’t going to ever look back. She was going to show the world she could be someone. Someone special.

But she had to be alive to do it. “Biff, pull over.”

“Now, baby—”

“Stop the car,” she said through her teeth. If he called her baby one more time she was going to scream. And then she was going to make him scream.

“Watch this.” He stomped on the gas and whipped into the oncoming traffic’s lane to pass a slower car. “Woo-hoo!” He craned his neck to look backward, flipping his middle finger at the driver as he came back into the right-hand lane with one second to spare before causing a head-on collision. “Bitchin’!”

“Biff.” Cassie’s fingernails, the ones she’d so carefully painted candy-apple red, dug into his dash. “I—”

“Ah, shit,” he said at the same time Cassie heard the whoop of a siren. Flashing lights lit up Biff’s face as he swore the air blue.

They pulled over. When Cassie saw Sheriff Richard Taggart coming toward them, all she could think was Thank God. He’d just saved her from a car accident. Or at the very least, a wrestling match with an idiot.

Biff was still swearing, and Cassie couldn’t blame him. The sheriff wasn’t exactly a warm, fuzzy sort, though she did trust him despite his being a tough hard-ass. She trusted him because he was the only man she knew who hadn’t slept with her mother, and therefore the only man she knew worthy of her respect.

He came to the driver’s window. Tipped his hat back. Switched his gum from one side to the other. Calmly and quietly assessed the situation with his sharp, sharp eyes. “You kids heading anywhere special?”

“Are you kidding? Look at my date.” Biff leaned back so the sheriff could see Cassie. “I got me a Tremaine for the night.”

The sheriff looked at Cassie. Something in his eyes shifted. “The lake, huh?” he asked.

Biff just shot his idiotic grin.

The sheriff shook his head. “Get out of the car, Biff.”

“But Uncle Rich—”

“Out of the car,” the sheriff repeated. “You won’t be driving again any time soon. I can smell you from here.”

“Ah, man—” Biff started to whine, but sucked it up when the sheriff glared at him.

“Start walking home, little nephew. Before I arrest you for Driving Under the Influence.”

Biff slammed out of the car like a petulant child and without so much as a backward glance at Cassie, whose panties he’d wanted to get into only five minutes before, started walking.

Fine. Cassie tossed her hair out of her face and did her best impression of someone who didn’t care what happened. But her heart was pounding, because though she was grateful he’d pulled them over, suddenly she felt…nervous.

That was ridiculous. He was rough and edgy, ruled the town with an iron fist, but he was also fair. A pillar of the community.

No reason for her to feel anxious. After all, what would he do now? He’d probably just make her walk home, too. Yeah, that worked for her. The entire evening had been a bust anyway. She had no idea why she’d thought dressing up and going out with the most popular jerk—er, jock—would be fun.

“Cassie.”

“Sheriff.”

“Don’t you dress up nice.”

He was staring at…her breasts? That didn’t seem right. Cassie managed to keep her shock to herself. “I—yes.”

“You think the dress changes what you are?” he asked softly. “Or who you are?” His gaze ran over the black silk, which had been designed to make men beg for mercy. She’d loved it when she’d found it, she’d loved it all the way until this very second, but now she felt like hugging herself.

“Get out of the car.”

She didn’t move, and he leaned in. “I can make you,” he said silkily. “In fact, I’d like that.”

There was no one around. Not that anyone would have stood up for her if there had been. No doubt the people in the cars driving by figured she’d done something to warrant the sheriff pulling her over. Chin high, Cassie got out of the car. Casually leaned back against it. Tossed her head. Played cool as a cucumber. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

“What can you do for me?” He stepped close. So close she could see the lights from his squad car dancing in his eyes. Smell his breath. Feel his hips brush hers. She wanted to cringe back, wanted to panic, but no way in hell was anyone in this goddamned town ever going to see her panic.

“What you can do for me, Cassie, is rather complicated, though being Flo’s daughter…”

“You…know Flo?”

“Intimately.”

He was aroused. And he had been with her mother. Odd how that felt like such a betrayal. But she was very careful not to react because it was one thing to mess with a stupid eighteen-year-old punk driving his brand-new car. It was another thing entirely to mess with a fully grown, aroused man with a badge. Fear threatened to paralyze her but she tossed her hair back again. “You must have mistaken me for my mother then.”

“I don’t make mistakes.” He lifted a hand.

It hovered in the air between them for a long moment, while Cassie held her breath. When she released it, his fingers danced along the very tops of her breasts, which were pushed up and out by her dress. His breathing changed then, quickened, and she realized he was no different from his nephew at all. The knowledge that any man, even this one, could be turned into a slave by his own penis was disturbing.

Skin crawling, she slapped his hand away. “Unless you’re going to arrest me for having the poor judgment to go out with your idiot nephew, our business here is over,” she said with remarkable calm. “Get out of my way. I’m walking home.”

“I can give you a ride. Maybe Flo is home. Maybe the two of you would be interested…”

She shivered at the obvious innuendo. He wanted the both of them together. And why not, right? After all, a Tremaine was a Tremaine.

How did her mother stand this? Seducing men at the drop of a hat because she could? Cassie understood Flo enjoyed the power of bringing a man to his knees with lust, but Cassie would rather bring a man to his knees with pain. A direct kick to the family jewels would do it.

But this wasn’t the man to do that to. Keeping her smile in place, she pushed past him. “Sorry, Sheriff. Not in the mood tonight.”

Her heels clicked on the asphalt as she started walking. Don’t follow me, don’t follow me. She felt him watching her every step of the way, until she turned the corner.

Only then, when she knew she was truly alone and out of his sight, did she break stride and start running. No one stopped her. No one cared enough to.

Down Magnolia Avenue to Petunia Avenue, and then finally she turned off onto Pansy Lane. For the first time she didn’t stop to sneer at the ridiculous flower names of the streets, and instead ran down the driveway of the duplex she’d shared all her life with her mother.

Her aunt and cousin lived on the other side. Kate would be a huge comfort right now, the voice of calm reason, but she’d still be with her date from the prom. Probably having the time of her life.

Cassie didn’t go inside the house. Didn’t want to face her mother, who would get misty-eyed at the sight of Cassie all over again. They both knew Cassie was leaving, and soon. The day she graduated, if possible. She had a life to find.

And someday she’d come back here and show them all. She’d come back driving a fancy car. She’d live in the biggest house on Lilac Hill, just because she could. And…oh, yes, this was her favorite…she’d get the sheriff. Somehow, some way.

But most of all, she’d…become someone. Someone special.

She went around the side of the duplex to the backyard. Kicked off the Nine West pumps she’d saved all last month for and dug her toes into the grass. Tipping back her head, she gauged the distance she had to jump in the dress wrapped around her like Saran wrap.

And took a flying leap for the rope ladder. In her skimpy black dress, she shimmied up the tree and landed in the tree house that had served as her and Kate’s getaway all their lives.

It was cramped. And musty. Probably full of spiders. It’d been a long time since she’d needed to be alone, but she needed that now. Desperately. She was close—far too close—to losing it, when losing it was not an option. Ever.

Opening the small wooden cigar box she and Kate kept hidden, she took out her private and personal vice and lit it. A cigarette. It helped steady her nerves. There was also her diary, and Kate’s, inside the box. She reached for hers.

Leaning back against the trunk of the tree, she studied the stars, mentally reviewing the list of things she wanted to accomplish with her life before she scribbled them into her diary. Kate would get a kick out of the fancy-car goal, she was sure of it.

When she was done writing, she leaned back and watched a falling star, and though she would have denied it to her dying day, she wished.

She wished that life would get better soon as she got the hell out of Pleasantville.

1

Ten Years Later

SHERIFF SEAN TAGGART—Tag, as he was commonly known—had eaten, showered and was sprawled naked and exhausted across his bed when the phone rang.

“Forget it,” he muttered, not bothering to lift his head. He didn’t have the energy. God, he needed sleep. He’d been up all night helping a neighboring county sheriff chase down a man wanted for two bank robberies. Then this morning, before he could so much as think about sleep, he’d had to rescue four stupid cows from the middle of the highway. He’d also wrestled a drunken and equally stupid teenager out of a deep gorge.

Then he’d delivered a baby when the mother had decided labor pains were just gas so that she’d ended up stranding herself thirty-five miles from nowhere.

Now, though it was barely the dinner hour, he just might never move again. He lived alone on a hill above town. Not on Lilac Hill like the rich, but in a nice, comfortable, sleepy little subdivision where the houses were far apart and old enough to be full of character—aka run-down. His place was more run-down than most, which was how he’d afforded it.

Renovation had come slow and costly, so much so that he’d only gotten to his bedroom and kitchen thus far. But it was his, and it was home. After growing up with a father who ruled not only the town with an iron fist but his kid as well, and no mother from the time she’d left for greener pastures when he’d turned eight, having a warm, cozy home had become very important to him.

Truth be known, he was ready for more than just a home these days. It wasn’t his family he wanted more of, as he and his father had never been close. How could they be when they didn’t share the same ideas, morals or beliefs, and to the older Taggart, Tag was little more than a disappointment. Regardless of the strained relationship with his father, Tag felt he was missing something else. He was ready for a friend, a lover, a wife. A soul mate. Someone he could depend on for a change, instead of the other way around.

But right now, he’d settle for eight hours of sleep in a row.

The phone kept ringing. Turning his head he pried one eye open and looked at it. It could be anyone. It could be his father, ex-sheriff, now retired, calling to tell Tag how to do his job. Again.

Or it could be an emergency, because if life had taught Tag any lesson at all, it was that just about anything could happen.

“Damn it.” He yanked up the receiver. “What?”

“Dispatch,” Annie reported in her perpetually cheerful voice. Off duty she was his ex-fiancée and pest extraordinaire. On duty, she was still his ex-fiancée and pest extraordinaire. Not long after becoming engaged, they’d decided they were better co-workers than co-habitors, and they’d been right. Tag could never have taken her eternal cheerfulness in bed night after night.

“Heard you didn’t even kiss Sheila good night after your date,” she said. “I’ll have you know I went to a lot of trouble to set that up. You’ve got to kiss ’em, Tag, or you’re going to ruin your bad-boy rep.”

He groaned and rolled over. “God, I hope so.”

“I just want you happy. Like I am.”

She was getting married next month to one of his deputies, which was a good thing. But now she wanted him as almost married as she was. Sighing would do no good. Neither would ignoring her—she was more ruthless than a pit bull terrier. “If it’s any of your business, which it’s not, I didn’t kiss Sheila because it wasn’t a date. I didn’t even want to go in the first place—” Why was he bothering? She wouldn’t listen. Rubbing his eyes, he stared at the ceiling. “Why are you calling?”

“Know why you’re so grumpy? You need to get laid once in a while. Look—” As if departing a state secret, she lowered her voice. “Sex is a really great stress reliever. I’d give you some to remind you, just as a favor, mind you, but I’m a committed woman now.”

Tag wished he was deep asleep. “Tell me you’re not calling me from the dispatch phone to say this to me.”

“Someone has to, Tag, honey.”

“I’m going back to sleep now.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?” He heard the rustling of papers as Annie shifted things on her desk. He pictured the mess—the stacks, the un-filed reports, the mugs of coffee and chocolate candy wrappers strewn over everything—and got all the more tense. “Look at the computer screen in front of you,” he instructed. “Read me your last call.”

“Oh, yeah!” She laughed. “Can’t believe I forgot there for a moment. There’s a stranger downtown, driving some sort of hot rod, causing trouble. We’ve received calls on and off all day, complaining about the loud music and reckless driving.”

He opened his mouth to ask what had taken her so long to say so, but bit back the comment because it wouldn’t do him any good. Back on duty whether he liked it or not, he rubbed his gritty, tired eyes and grabbed for his pants. “Theft? Injuries?”

“Nope, nothing like that. Just the music and speeding.”

“Speeding?” He’d given up sleep for speeding? “Why didn’t…hell, who’s on duty right now…Tim? Why didn’t he take care of this earlier if it’s been a problem all day?”

“Seems Tim stopped off at his momma’s for some pie after lunch and got sick. Food poisoning. He’s been bowing to the porcelain god ever since. Poor guy, bad things like that don’t usually happen here in Pleasantville.”

Since he’d had plenty of bad things happen to him right here in this town, the least of which was caving in and hiring his ex on dispatch, Tag just rolled his eyes. “If nothing really bad could happen, why can’t I manage a night with some sleep in it?”

“Because we all love your sweet demeanor too much. Now get your ass up. Oh, and careful out there, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Which was damn little and they both knew it. “Yeah, thanks,” he muttered, looking for more clothes. He jammed on his boots, yanked on his uniform shirt and grabbed his badge.

With one last fond look toward his big, rumpled, very comfortable bed, he shook his head and left.

Halfway to downtown Pleasantville, his radio squawked. “Got the license plate and make for ya,” Annie said, and rattled it off.

“Sunshine-yellow Porsche.” Tag shook his head at the idiotic tourist who’d probably taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in Pleasantville. “Shouldn’t be hard to find. Owner’s name?”

“Let’s see, it’s here somewhere…Cassie Tremaine Montgomery.”

Not a tourist. Not a wayward traveler lost by accident. Not by a long shot.

Cassie Tremaine Montgomery.

She’d belonged here once. Though now, as a famous lingerie model, she was as far from Pleasantville as one could get.

He might not have ever met her personally since he’d been several years ahead of her in school, but her reputation preceded her. A reputation she’d gotten—according to legend—by using men just like her mother.

If he remembered correctly, and he was certain he did, Cassie had been tough, unreachable, attitude-ridden and…hot. Very hot.

And she’d been practically run out of town after her high school graduation by rumors. They’d said she was pregnant, on drugs, a thief. You name it, someone in town had claimed she’d done it. Hell, even his loser cousin Biff had plenty of wild stories, though Tag had no idea how much of it was true given Biff’s tendency toward exaggeration. He’d never expended any energy thinking about it.

But now he was sheriff and she was back, stirring up trouble. Seemed he’d need to think about her plenty.

He saw her immediately, speeding down Magnolia Avenue in her racy car, with a matching racy attitude written all over her. Blond hair whipping behind her, her fingers tapping in beat to the music she had blaring.

Knowing only that things were about to get interesting, Tag turned his cruiser around and went after her.

* * *

GET WHAT YOU CAN, honey. Get what you can and get out.

Cassie Tremaine Montgomery smiled grimly as she remembered her mother’s advice on life and took Magnolia Avenue at a slightly elevated speed than was strictly allowed by law. She couldn’t help it, her car seemed to have the same attitude about being in this town as she did.

In other words, neither of them liked it.

As she drove downtown throughout the day, running errands, people stopped, stared. Pointed.

Logically, she knew it was the car. But the place had slammed her into the past. People recognized her. People remembered her.

Had she thought they wouldn’t? Hadn’t Kate warned her after she had been back in town recently to close up her mother’s house? Good old Pea-ville.

There was Mrs. McIntyre coming out of the Tea Room. The Town Gossip hadn’t changed; she still wore her hair in a bun wrapped so tight her eyes narrowed, and that infamous scowl. She’d maliciously talked about Cassie and Flo on a daily basis.

But that was a lifetime ago. To prove it, Cassie waved.

Mrs. McIntyre shook her finger at her and turned to a blue-haired old biddy next to her. That woman shook her finger at Cassie, too.

Well. Welcome home. Cassie squashed the urge to show them a finger of her own. She couldn’t help it, this place brought out the worst in her.

But she wasn’t here to reminisce and socialize. God, no. If left up to her, she’d have never come back. There was nothing for her here, nothing.

Kate was gone. She’d marched out of town hand in hand with Cassie all those years ago, each determined to make something of themselves.

Kate had done spectacularly in Chicago, with her specialty ladies’ shop, Bare Essentials.

Some would say so had Cassie. But that she could afford to buy and sell this sorry-ass town was little satisfaction when just driving through made her feel young and stupid all over again. Two things she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Everyone in Pleasantville had assumed she’d grow up the same as the trouble-loving Flo. Destiny, they’d said. Can’t fight it.

And if you counted going off to New York and becoming one of the world’s most well-known lingerie models following her destiny, well then, that’s what Cassie had done.

Now she was back. Not by choice, mind you. Oh, no. She passed the library. And yep, there was the librarian standing out front changing the sign for tonight’s reading circle. Mrs. Wilkens hadn’t changed a bit, either. She was still old, still had her glasses around her neck on a chain and…was still frowning at Cassie.

Cassie had spent hours at the library looking for an escape from her life, devouring every historical romance novel she could find.

Mrs. Wilkens had always, always, hovered over her as if she was certain Cassie was going to steal a book.

Oh, wasn’t this a fun stroll down memory lane. With a grim smile, Cassie drove on. She passed the old bowling alley, the five-and-dime, the Rose Café.

Pleasantville had a scent she’d never forgotten. It smelled like broken dreams and fear.

Or maybe that was just her imagination.

There was sound, as well. Other cars, a kid’s laughter…the whoop of a siren—

What the hell? Craning her neck in surprise, she looked into the rearview mirror and saw the police lights. Her heart lurched for the poor sucker about to get a ticket. A serious lead-foot herself, Cassie winced in sympathy and slowed so the squad car could go around her.

It didn’t.

No problem, she’d just pull over to give it more room. But the police car pulled over, too.

And that’s when it hit her. She was the sucker about to get the ticket.

“Damn it. Damn it,” she muttered as she turned off the car and fumbled for her purse. She hadn’t been pulled over since…prom night.

All those unhappy memories flooded back, nearly choking her. She hadn’t given thought to that night in far too long to let it hit her like a sucker punch now, but that’s exactly what it did. Her drunken date. Then dealing with the sheriff, who’d been one of the few men in town she’d figured she could trust.

She’d been wrong, very wrong. No man was trustworthy, hadn’t she learned that the hard way? Especially recently.

But after all the terror she’d been through in the days before she’d been forced back here, Cassie wasn’t going to get stressed about this. She’d find her wallet, explain why she was in such a hurry, and maybe, just maybe, if she batted the lashes just right, added a do-me smile and tossed back her hair in a certain way, she’d get out of here ticket-free.

Please, oh please, let there have been a new sheriff in the past ten years, she thought as she finally located her wallet in the oversize purse that carried everything including her still-secret vice—a historical romance. Pirates, rogues, Vikings…the lustier the better. She hadn’t yet cracked the spine on this latest book, but if the sheriff saw it she’d…well, she’d have to kill him.

“Damn it.”

No driver’s license in the wallet. Oh, boy. Her own fault, though. In getting ready for the club she’d gone to several nights ago with friends, she’d pulled out her license and stuck it in her pocket so she wouldn’t be hampered by her heavy purse.

And she hadn’t returned it, not then, and not in the shocking events since. “Damn it.”

“You said that already.”

Lurching up, Cassie smacked her head on the sun visor, dislodging her sunglasses. Narrowing her eyes at the low, very male laugh, she focused in on…not Sheriff Richard Taggart, thank God.

No, Richard Taggart would be in his late fifties by now. Probably gray with a paunch and a mean-looking mouth from all the glowering he’d done.

The man standing in front of her wearing mirrored sunglasses and a uniform wasn’t old, wasn’t gray and certainly didn’t have a paunch. In fact, as her eyes traveled up, up, up his very long, very mouthwatering body, she doubted he had a single ounce of fat on his tall, lean, superbly conditioned form.

Not that she was noticing. She worked with men all the time. Fellow models, photographers, directors…and while she definitely liked to look, and sometimes even liked to touch—on her terms thank you very much—this man would never interest her.

He wore a cop’s uniform and a sheriff’s badge, and ever since prom night she had a serious aversion to both.

Not to mention her aversion to authority period. “I don’t have my license,” she said, dismissing him by not looking into his face. Rude, yes, but it was nothing personal. She might have even told him so, if she cared what he thought, which she didn’t.

“No license,” he repeated.

What a voice. Each word sent a zing of awareness tingling through her every nerve ending. He could have made a fortune as a voice talent. His low, slightly rough tone easily conjured up erotic fantasies out of thin air.

“That’s a problem, the no-license thing,” he said. Having clearly decided she was no threat, he removed his sunglasses, stuck them in his shirt pocket and leaned on her car with casual ease, his big body far too close and…male.

She took back the whole voice-talent thing; he should go bigger and hit the big screen. She didn’t need her vivid imagination to picture him up there as a romantic action-adventure hero.

Without the uniform, of course.

Obviously unaware of the direction her thoughts had taken, he nodded agreeably at her lack of inclination to apologize over not having a license. But one look at that firm mouth, hard jaw and unforgiving gaze, and Cassie knew this man was agreeable only when it suited him.

A car raced past them, a blue sedan with a little old lady behind the wheel. “Hey,” Cassie said, straightening and craning her neck to catch the car vanish around the corner. “That lady was going way faster than me!”

“Mrs. Spelling?” He shrugged and tapped his pen on his ticket book. “She’s late picking up her grandkids.”

“She’s speeding,” Cassie said through clenched teeth.

“Well, you were speeding first.” He cocked his head all friendly-like. “And you’re not carrying your ID because…?”

Because she’d left New York in a hurry. That was what happened when three incredibly shocking things occurred all at the same time.

One, she was being stalked. The man doing so had been a friend. That is, until she’d declined to sleep with him—which is when it’d turned ugly. Seems that if he couldn’t have her, he wanted her dead.

Her agent, her friends and her fiercely worried cousin had all insisted she get the hell out of Dodge—and since Cassie was rather fond of living, she had agreed. What better place to disappear than in a town that had never seen her in the first place?

Two, her mother had decided to sail around the world with her latest boyfriend. She would be away indefinitely, which meant she’d left Cassie a surprising and early inheritance. That Cassie had been forced to come back to Pleasantville to take care of that inheritance coincided with her need to vacate New York for a while.

The third shocking thing wasn’t life-altering, but had bothered her enough that she’d dreamed of it for the past several days. Kate had found their high school diaries and the ridiculous lists they’d each made that fateful night in the tree house after their disastrous prom. Lists that included their childish wish for revenge on a town that had always spurned them. Cassie’s was inspired, if a bit immature, and she eyed the sheriff again, remembering what she’d written.

1. Drive a fancy car, preferably sunshine-yellow because that’s a good color for me.

2. Get the sheriff—somehow, some way, but make it good.

3. Live in the biggest house on Lilac Hill.

4. Open a porn shop—Kate’s idea, but it’s a good one.

5. Become someone. Note: this should have been number one.

Amusing. Childish. And damn tempting, given that she had already nailed number one. Maybe that’s all she’d ever accomplish, driving a fancy yellow car, but one thing she’d come to realize in her most interesting career, she had a zest for life.

She wanted to live.

But if anyone thought she wanted to live here, they needed to think again. She’d rather have an impacted wisdom tooth removed. Without drugs.

She took off her sunglasses and immediately wished she hadn’t. The glare of the sun made her squint, and she hated to squint. She also felt…exposed. The way she hadn’t felt since her very first day of kindergarten, walking in with a big smile that slowly faded when all the other kids and their mean moms had stopped to whisper.

Tremaine.

White trash.

Daughter of a tramp.

Wild child.

At age five, she’d had no idea what those whispered words meant. But even then she’d recognized the judgment, so she’d simply lifted her chin to take the verbal knocks. She did the same now. “I don’t have my license because it’s not in my purse,” she said, refusing to explain herself to anyone in this town. Including a cop. Especially a cop.

“Hmm. I hadn’t realized Cassie Tremaine Montgomery was famous enough to not need ID.”

“You know who I am.”

His lips curved. “I’ve seen the catalogs. Interesting work you’ve gotten for yourself.”

“Those catalogs are for women.”

“With you in silk and lace on page after page?” He shook his head, that small smile looking quite at home on his very generous mouth. “Don’t fool yourself. Those catalogs are scoured from front to back by men all across the country.”

“Is that why you pulled me over? You wanted to meet me in person?” Disdain came easily for any man with authority, especially this one. “Or is it because I’m driving an expensive and brightly colored sports car?”

“Contrary to popular belief,” he said conversationally, “cops don’t necessarily have an attraction to all cars painted red or yellow. What we do have, however, is an attraction to speeding vehicles.”

“And this has to do with me because…?”

“Because you were speeding,” he said in that patient—and incredible—voice that told her he thought she was the village idiot, not the other way around. Then he straightened and waved his ticket book. “The question now is, were you going fast enough to warrant reckless driving.”

Cassie never gaped, it went against the grain, but she did so now. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

As he had before, he leaned in, resting his weight on his arm, which lay across her open window. It wasn’t a beefy arm, or a scrawny one, but somewhere in between, more on the side of tough and sinewy.

Again, not that she was noticing. He was probably a jackass, as Richard Taggart had been. He was probably prejudiced against anything different from his small-town norm. He was probably mean-spirited and stupid, as well—most men that good-looking were. For the second time she considered going the batting-the-eyelashes route. It would work. She’d been rendering men stupid with her looks for a very long time now.

In that spirit, she put her saucy smile in place to butter him up. His slate-blue eyes went as sharp as stone. He wasn’t going to fall for the saucy smile, damn it, so she let it fade. “Look, I wasn’t reckless driving. And you already know who I am so the license isn’t really necessary.”

In front of them, an older couple started to cross the street. Cassie ignored them until they stopped and stared at her, then started whispering furiously to themselves. Recognition came sharply to Cassie—they’d run the drugstore years ago, where she’d done her best to prove to the town she was just as wild as they thought by purchasing condoms regularly. “Oh, forget it,” she said on a sigh. “Just do what you have to do.”

“Which would be what, do you think?”

Well, hopefully it wouldn’t be to make her get out of the car so he could try to feel her up. “You could let me go.”

He smiled at that. A slow, wide smile that had her heart skipping a beat. “But you were speeding.”

“Maybe I’m in a hurry to get out of here.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, so I hear.”

Now what would he know about her fast exit after graduation? She took another long look at him, squinting through the bright sun to see his name. Taggart. Oh, my God. “You’re…”

“Sheriff Sean Taggart. You can call me Tag, most do.”

Suddenly she could hardly breathe. She couldn’t have managed a smile to save her life. Pulling back, she stared straight ahead out her windshield. “You’re Richard’s son.”

“That would be correct.”

It wasn’t bad enough she’d had to put her entire life on hold because some jerk had decided if he couldn’t have her, he’d terrorize her. Or that she had to be here while her life was on hold. No, she had to run into her old nightmares to boot. That, added to her current nightmares…God, she needed a cigarette.

Too bad she’d quit smoking five years ago. “Just give me my ticket then.”

He was silent for so long she broke her own code and turned to look at him. Silent—still, even—but not idle. His eyes reflected all sorts of interesting things, mostly curiosity. “You know my father.”

No. Her mother had known him. Cassie had just hated and feared him. “The ticket?”

“Now you’re in a hurry to get your ticket? What’s up, Cassie?”

The sound of her first name in his incredibly sensuous voice seemed so…intimate. “Like I said, I’m in a hurry to get out of here.”

“Are you on your way out then? Already?”

She opened her mouth to remind him that was none of his business but her cell phone rang. It was Kate.

“Did you get there yet?” came her worried voice across the line. “Are you okay? How is it? You run into anyone we know? Talk to me.”

Cassie stared up at the tall, dark and intensely handsome sheriff. “Kate, your timing is something.”

“Oh, honey. Who is it? That mean old Mrs. McIntyre? Mrs. Wilkens? Because if it is—”

“As a matter of fact,” Cassie said, slowly smiling as her and Tag’s gazes locked. “It’s Sheriff Taggart.”

“Is that old fart still sheriff?”

“No, Tag here is Richard’s son.” When her gaze ran down the front of him, slowly, across his broad shoulders and what looked like a very promising chest and flat belly, over his trousers, which lovingly cupped powerful thighs and everything in between, then back up again, he lifted a daring brow, then gave her the same slow perusal.

Good, she thought in triumph. He was just a man after all, a man run by the equipment between his legs. A man who’d possibly forget to write that ticket due to the fact her little yellow sundress not only matched the car she’d bought herself last year but also accented the body she’d been well paid for over the years.

“Cassie,” Kate said into her ear. “I worry about you there, all alone.”

“I’m used to being alone.” Funny how that worked. She was surrounded by people all day long and yet it was true. She was utterly alone.

“I mean because of your stalker.”

Cassie’s stomach tightened with the fear she pretended not to feel and glanced at Tag, who was unabashedly eavesdropping. “I’m safe enough here.” She hoped.

“The guy slashed all your tires in the hopes of leaving you stranded, remember?”

“I do.”

“And then he ruined two photo shoots—”

“I remember all of it, Kate.”

“I’m sorry, of course you do. Okay, subject change. You going to be okay facing what Flo left you?”

That had been a shocker. That her mother had actually come out on the winning side after all, after always being considered the town joke. Seems the men in her life had come through, over the years gifting her a prime piece of real estate downtown, an amazing turn-of-the-century house on Lilac Hill overlooking town, and supposedly some other equally valuable things she needed Cassie to take care of. Cassie still couldn’t believe it.

“Cassie?”

“I’m okay, Mom,” she said, and accomplished what she’d wanted. Kate laughed.

“Call me back.”

“Oh, I will.” She clicked off and tossed the phone into the back seat. Then looked at Tag. “So…”

Tag looked right back. “What do you mean, you’re safe enough here?”

“It’s considered rude to eavesdrop.”

“Talk to me, Cassie.”

Oh, right. Terrified as she might be in the deep dark of night, she’d rather face the boogeyman bare-ass naked before asking this man for help. “If I do, can we skip the ticket?”

Now he laughed and, good Lord, she hoped that wasn’t a weapon he used often because just the sound could make a grown woman quiver with delight. She was fighting doing just that—uniform or not—when he flipped open the ticket book and started writing.

2

TAG ACTUALLY MANAGED a night of uninterrupted sleep, mostly due to the fact that he’d turned off the ringer on his phone and had shoved his pager beneath the couch pillows.

Not being on call did wonders for his mental health. What hadn’t done wonders for that same mental health had been his dreams.

X-rated dreams about Pleasantville’s latest visitor. He doubted they’d sprung from the photographs in the lingerie catalog he’d received in the mail and had perused over dinner. Photographs that showed every perfect inch of the body that belonged to one Cassie Tremaine Montgomery.

Lord, she was stacked. All long, tanned…lush. With the wild mane of sun-kissed blond hair and come-hither mouth…man, she was sure built like a goddess.

A tempting goddess, for certain. But luckily, not his type. A woman like Cassie was trouble, and on top of that trouble, he imagined she’d be high maintenance.

Tag was done with high maintenance, done with people needing him to take care of every little thing. The next time he let a woman into his life—and there would be a next time—it was going to be for keeps. She was going to be a sweet, quiet little thing who lived for him.

Yeah. He was going to be the high maintenance one for a change.

But as he showered, it wasn’t the quiet little woman that came into his mind. It was Cassie. As in his dream, her cynically lit eyes were hot with passion, her mouth wet from kissing him, and her amazing body wrapped around his. Not only wrapped, but soft and pliant and so ready for him she would explode when he plunged into her.

Now there was an image to make a shower nice and steamy and his body hard and achy. Nothing he couldn’t take care of by himself. But that wasn’t what he was looking for.

Once the hot water turned cold, Tag got out, slipped on his uniform pants, and reluctantly put Cassie out of his mind. Even more reluctantly, he pulled his pager from beneath the couch cushions.

His father had called—again. He’d probably heard about the tri-county arrest, the one in which it had taken the authorities—including Tag—three days to apprehend the suspect. Yeah, ex-sheriff Richard Taggart probably wanted to make sure Tag knew he would have done it in one day.

Well, hell. So he wasn’t like his father. So he didn’t believe he had to bully the town into obeying the law. Hallelujah. But it’d be nice if just once, just one damn time, his father could acknowledge Tag’s success.

Tag ran a hand through his wet hair and bit back a sigh as he strode through his very quiet house to the kitchen, where he poured himself a bowl of cereal.

“Note to self,” he said to no one in particular. “The little wife will make me a hot breakfast every morning.”

Soon as he found her.

The phone rang. Not surprisingly, it was Annie.

“Hey, boss, get your sweet ass up. We’re short-staffed. Turns out Tim didn’t have food poisoning, it was the flu, and half the staff is out.”

“Any bright yellow Porsches out there speeding this morning?” he asked.

“Just one.”

And he was just in the mood for it, too. He slipped into his uniform shirt, grabbed his badge and hit the road.

He found her immediately, cruising downtown, rolling through a four-way stop where he’d cleaned up more accidents than he liked to remember. Pulling her over, he strode up to the driver’s side of her car and had to laugh at the look of fury on her beautiful face.

“Let me guess,” Cassie said through her teeth. “You haven’t met your ticket quota yet for the week.”

“Careful, or I’ll think you like me.” He grinned when she snarled. “Did I mention yesterday that the speed limit is enforced here? As well as the full stop sign, which by the way, means you’re supposed to come to a full stop. It’s a ticket if you don’t.”

She rolled her eyes and tapped her red-lacquered-tipped fingers on the wheel, the picture of impatience. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“You know, you’d get farther with honey than vinegar,” he said, pulling out his ticket book.

“I save the honey for someone who’ll appreciate it.”

Well, she had him there. She could bat her pretty lashes and flirt all she wanted, he was pretty much fed up with the tactic. No way could she bowl him over with those sexy green eyes and walk away. Nope, he was far tougher than that.

Maybe he wasn’t big city. Maybe he had only the badge and his training behind him, but he was his own man and he knew what he wanted.

And okay, he wanted her. He was red-blooded, after all. But a quick affair to let off some steam wasn’t enough for him, not these days. Slumming around no longer appealed. He wanted for keeps. The real deal.

Nothing about Cassie was the real deal.

“Meow.”

This came from the passenger seat, on which sat the biggest, fattest tabby he’d ever seen. “Well, hello,” he said, and when the cat climbed all over Cassie to get to him, obviously using nails for leverage if Cassie’s hiss was any indication, he obliged it by reaching in and scratching beneath the chin.

A loud rumble filled the car.

Cassie narrowed her eyes at the purring cat. “Look at that, the Daughter of Satan likes men. What a surprise.”

“Daughter of Satan?”

She sighed. “Sheriff, meet Miss Priss. Miss Priss meet—” She glared at the cat when it growled at her. “Oh, never mind, you’re so huffy and snooty and rude you don’t deserve an introduction.”

“Funny,” Tag said. “I would have said the same thing about her owner.”

“I don’t own this cat, and I’m never huffy. Snooty and rude, most definitely. But not huffy.”

Despite the fact he didn’t want to acknowledge his dreams hadn’t been as good as seeing her in the flesh, his gaze gobbled her up. She was wearing white today. White tank top, white mini skirt, white leather boots. It seemed almost sacrilegious, all that virginal color on that mouthwatering body. Down, boy. “Why doesn’t your cat like you?”

“It’s not my cat, it’s my mother’s. Apparently they frown on felines on cruise ships, so she left the thing for me to take care of, along with—” She sent him a look designed to wither. “Why am I telling you all this?”

“Because I’m irresistible?”

For one moment she let her guard down and laughed. Her entire face softened, and he stared at her in shock. My God, she was beautiful like that, he thought, and wondered what it would be like to see her happy, really happy.

But then he took back the thought. He didn’t care what she looked like happy; he’d prefer to see what she looked like from the back, heading right out of town. “Let me guess…you’re on your way out of here.”

Now her frown was back, on those perfectly glossed lips. “I wish.” She flipped her hair out of her eyes and lifted a shoulder. “I think you might be stuck with me a little bit longer. Hope you can handle it.”

“The question is, can your car insurance handle it.” He opened his ticket book and she sputtered, making him laugh again. “Why do I get the feeling that not many have crossed you?”

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t care?” she muttered.

When he’d handed her the second ticket in as many days, she grabbed it, tossed it over her shoulder into the back of her car and took off, her hair flying in the wind, her cat back in the passenger seat. The two of them were frowning, two obnoxious females thrusting their chins out against the world.

* * *

HONEY, do what you got to do. The blazes with anyone else. Cassie heard Flo’s voice in her head clear as day. More rarely she heard Edie’s voice, Kate’s mother, and for all intents and purposes Cassie’s Mom No. 2. It seemed Cassie’s bold-as-brass lifestyle leaned more toward Flo’s advice than Edie’s.

She wondered if hearing voices meant she was going crazy, or just that Pleasantville was getting to her. Both, she decided, and stripped out of her clothes, fingering through the things she’d brought, looking for some comfy pajamas.

She was a clothes hound and, thanks to her job, had collected many beautiful things. They were a comfort to her, the silk and lace, and proved, if only to herself, she was no longer poor.

Poor had meant longing, yearning, helplessness, and she hated all three. She would never long, yearn or be helpless again.

She thought of her little stalking problem—the slashed tires, her ransacked apartment, the threatening letters—and shivered.

Well, hopefully, she’d never feel helpless again.

In her suitcase she came across a tin of cookies her agent had given her. Cookies were a rare treat for a lingerie model, but since she’d canceled work for the entire summer, she tore into them and grabbed her book.

The Savage Groom. Maybe some good old-fashioned French Revolution period lust would clear her head. At least she could afford her books now instead of sneaking into the library and past the haughty Mrs. Wilkens for them.

“Chocolate,” she moaned out loud and stuffed another in her mouth. Happy and cozy in imported silk, a fattening cookie in one hand and a book in the other, she flopped back on the bed and let herself relax for the first time in too long. “Two days, two tickets and a pounding headache. That’s got to be some kind of record, even for me.”

Another weight hit the bed and Cassie lifted her head. Her gaze collided with the slanted yellow one of Miss Priss. “You.”

“Meow.”

Cassie tried to shoo her off, but the cat wasn’t only annoying, she refused to budge, letting out that terrible wail she had.

“Meow.”

“Hey, I just fed you…” When had that been? “Yesterday.” Oh, man, good thing she wasn’t a mother. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, the cat turned in a circle, presented her behind and sat within an inch of Cassie’s nose.

“Eww, move.”

Miss Priss did. She moved closer and, claiming half the pillow with her big, fat, furry body, she began to clean herself. Her private self.

“I am not sharing a pillow with someone who licks her own genitalia.”

Miss Priss didn’t seem to agree, and with a bolt of ingenuity, Cassie grabbed the spare pillow and threw it at the cat, who landed with a hiss on the floor. Leaning over the edge, she smiled smugly. “Stay.”

“Mew.”

That was an “I’m sorry” mew if she ever heard one. Damn it. What was she doing, snapping at a cat? Wasn’t that like kicking a puppy? With a regretful sigh, she reached out a peace offering in the form of a cookie, and—

“Ouch!” Yanking back her scratched palm, Cassie sat up. “That’s it. Go play on the freeway.”

“Mew.”

“Oh, fine.” She got up and fed the ingrate. Then, using both pillows now, she settled back on the bed against the headboard.

The sound of a roaring truck ruined her peace, and she went to the window. The trash truck. Now there was a job. The guy on the back of the truck hopped off at her neighbor’s house and hoisted the cans. He had a slouch and a gut and…and it was Biff. In an instinctive gesture she backed from the window. Assessed how she felt.

And grinned. There had to be some justice in the world if she—a Tremaine—was living on Lilac Hill and Biff—former star football player—was collecting her trash.

She called Kate, who’d appreciate the irony.

“Kate, Biff is the trash guy,” she said when her cousin picked up the phone. “And he’s not even the driver. He picks up the trash.”

“Perfect job for him, I’d say.”

Oh, yeah, she could count on Kate. “I’m sprawled on the most luxuriously silk-covered bed in a luxurious bedroom surrounded by the most amazing, luxurious house. Can you believe it? My mother lived like a queen after I was gone.” And because it felt good, so good to relax, she arched her neck.

“My God,” Cassie murmured.

“What? A spider?”

She stared at herself in the mirror framed above the bed. She’d seen the mirrors before now, of course, but they were still a shock. She studied herself dispassionately. Her body was barely covered in azure-blue imported silk, showing off her full breasts and the belly that didn’t look quite as flat as it should for a lingerie model. With a grimace, she tossed the cookies aside. “No, it’s just this place. The garage is full of furniture from the duplex and my mother has mirrored ceilings.”

Kate let out a startled laugh. “Well, we always knew Flo wasn’t a prude.”

Funny how even though Cassie knew exactly who and what Flo was—a woman unable to resist a man, any man at all—when it came right down to it, it was hard to picture her own mother having sex on this bed and enjoying the view from above. “You realize I’m on Lilac Hill, right? Lilac Hill. My fancy neighbors would have a coronary at the secrets this bedroom holds.”

“I imagine that was part of the fun for her.”

Ever the voice of reason, her Kate. Despite Kate’s own demons, she’d always helped Cassie see things differently. And more importantly, she made Cassie smile. “Flo did enjoy a good scandal. But Lilac Hill, for God’s sake.” The place that as children they’d stared at enviously, fantasized over. “I feel like I fell down the rabbit hole.”

“You deserve it,” Kate said with a sudden fierceness in her voice. “Both of you. You’ve worked so hard all your lives, and now Flo is sailing the Greek Islands and you’re a world-famous lingerie model. You both paid your dues for so many years. You’re supposed to enjoy this.”

“But I miss work.” Cassie sighed. “The photo shoot I bailed on this week was in the Bahamas.”

“Which is where your stalker was going to meet you. Isn’t that what the last threat said?”

Yes, but she didn’t want to go there. She so didn’t want to go there. “So I’m here. In a house my mother never paid for.”

“Of course she did. She loved…who was it—Mr. Miller the banker, right?—and he cared enough about her to give it to her. Just like Mr. McIntyre, who left her that building downtown.” She laughed. “I bet Mrs. McIntyre is spitting nails over that.”

“Oh, yeah. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under. Which reminds me.” Cassie took a deep breath. “I have some ideas.” She sat up because she had to be careful how she phrased this. After all, Kate was a Tremaine, which meant that like Cassie, she had more pride than sense when it came to accepting help. “You said you were ready to open another shop.”

“I said I wanted to open another shop, I never said I would open another shop. Successful as I’ve been in Chicago, I don’t have the money for that yet.”

“I know. But I do.”

“I’m not taking any more of your money. I just paid back the start-up loan you gave me for the first Bare Essentials.”

“I’m not talking money, per se. I want you to take the building, the old men’s store that Flo inherited from horny old McIntyre.”

“No.”

“Kate.”

“Cassie.”

Cassie had to laugh at Kate’s calm annoyance. “Stop it. I have an ulterior motive.”

“If you want a new toy, all you have to do is ask. We just stocked up.”

“Hey, I still have Mr. Pink that you bought me for Christmas and I just loaded up on batteries, thank you very much.”

Miss Priss leapt back onto the bed, and with one long daring glare, she settled at Cassie’s head.

“If I wake up with a fur ball lodged in my throat, you’re dead meat,” Cassie told the snooty cat. “And you,” she said to her cousin, “will you listen to me for a moment?”

“You got one minute. Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…you’d better hurry.”

“Should have been a comic, Kate. Listen, I want you to have the building because it feels right. I don’t know what to do with it, and it’s just sitting there going to waste. Besides, it’s right downtown. Right smack in the middle of downtown…are you following me here?”

“Let me see if I am…you see Bare Essentials, basically a very naughty ladies’ store—”

“One which sells a most excellent dildo, I might add.”

“Thank you. You see Bare Essentials fitting right in with the Rose Café and the five-and-dime.”

“Why not? This town could use some spice.”

“More than having their wild child come home?”

“Hey, they made me this way. Come on, say yes. It’s on our lists of things to do…”

“Cassie.” Kate laughed. “Those lists were written by bitter teenagers.”

“So?”

“So…it’s not that easy. I was just there, I don’t want to move back to that place any more than you want to be there.”

Cassie flopped back on the bed and stared at herself in the ceiling mirror. Her agent had cleared her schedule for the entire summer and it was only early June. The police and her friends had convinced her that a low profile would be best.

She knew that to be true. No matter her outwardly brave facade and joking, cynical manner, she hated the fear, the terror. Because of it, she sat in Pleasantville with no one but a mean old cat for company and nothing to do but pay her moving violations.

Oh, and stare at the sheriff’s ass. It was a mighty fine ass, but that simply wasn’t enough. Especially since he wasn’t so much as slightly interested in her.

How long had it been since a man hadn’t fallen in a pool of saliva at her feet? Didn’t matter; unlike her mother, she had no need for a man to fall all over her.

“Cassie?”

“I’ll get the shop going for you,” she said rashly. “Come on, Kate. Opening a porn shop in Pleasantville. It doesn’t get better than that.”

“Bare Essentials, which is doing exceptionally well by the way, is not a porn shop.” Kate sniffed.

“I know that. But everyone here will think it is.” Glee leapt wildly within her. This idea just got better and better the more she thought about it. “This is inspired, truly inspired. I can keep myself from going crazy and—”

“Oh, honey. You are going crazy, I knew it. Maybe I should come back—”

“—and I can shock this mean-spirited old town while doing it. Mrs. McIntyre. Mrs. Wilkens. All of them. No, don’t you dare come back. Unless of course, you want to. I can do this. I want to do this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I can’t just sit here and hide, Kate. I just can’t. Otherwise every shadow, every little thing, makes me jump.”

“Have you informed the sheriff about why you’re really there?”

“Of course not. I’m fine. I just need to do something and this is perfect. What do you say?”

“You can’t just give me the building. If we do this, it’s as a team. And, damn, revenge on that godforsaken town sounds really good. Too good.”

Cassie knew she had her. And if she did so in part because Kate was worried about her, then she was willing to play that card, because though she’d eat a stick before admitting it, she was worried about herself, too. “So then…?”

“Yes,” Kate said. “Yes, let’s do it. Partners?”

“Partners,” Cassie vowed.

* * *

ONE WEEK—and another ticket—later, Cassie was still jerking awake at night, certain her stalker had found her. Just last night she’d opened her mouth to scream at the weight holding her down, only to find Miss Priss sitting on her chest. The cat she could handle.

She had also handled the town—by snubbing her nose every morning at her fellow shop owners on Magnolia Street. Specifically, anyone and everyone going in and out of the Tea Room right next door, most of the waitresses at the Rose Café, and anyone else who stopped to point and whisper.

This didn’t include the Downtown Deli across the street, mostly because the deli was new, and therefore the legend of Cassie Tremaine didn’t live there. And also because Cassie had discovered a weakness for pastrami on rye, along with the thirtysomething owners Diane and Will. Silly Diane and Will, they actually seemed to like her.

Cassie’s building had been cleared of old debris and cleaned. They still had to paint, refloor and decorate, but that was the fun part. Since she was the one in town at the moment, she would handle most of that, happily. She loved to decorate and organize, and loved to paint. Which was a good thing, as Kate was notoriously bad at it, and was never offered a paintbrush.

She and Kate had spent hours teleconferencing over the stock for the store, with Kate sending naughty sample after naughty sample. The UPS girl, a very cute little thing named Daisy—only in Pleasantville—had continuously asked what was in all the boxes she kept delivering. When Cassie had finally broken down and told her—Daisy was simply too sweet for both this town and its gossip mill—Daisy had nearly swallowed her tongue.

In spite of it all, or maybe because of it, Cassie felt like a little girl at Christmas. One night, during a wicked early summer storm, she sat in the deserted building, surrounded by boxes and Miss Priss.

The cat hadn’t relented—she still hated Cassie—but she refused to be left home alone. If Cassie did leave her at the house, she paid for the mistake dearly as Miss Priss wasn’t above leaving “deposits” to show her annoyance. Yesterday it had been in her slipper, which Cassie had unfortunately put her foot into, so she’d caved like a cheap suitcase and took the damn cat wherever she went.

Rain beat against the windows of the building, while thunder and lightning beat the sky. She’d lost power about thirty minutes ago, but undeterred, she’d lit a lantern. In her mind’s eye, she could see the store, envision the displays, the music, the lights—everything laid out the way she and Kate had planned—and the work was so therapeutic, she didn’t want to stop. Unafraid—a nice change—she sat alone on the floor making copious notes to share with Kate during their next phone call.

Bare Essentials. Even the name was perfect, and she jotted a note to talk to Kate about what type of sign they should have made to hang out front. Everyone in town would assume the worst, of course, and to make sure she fulfilled those thoughts, the shop would carry a variety of items for shock value alone. Maybe they could create an interesting window display with cock rings and anal plugs….

Time flew by as she opened boxes, spread the samples out this way and that, made notes, even tried some things on.

Miss Priss had long ago fallen asleep in a box. Outside, beyond the shuttered windows, traffic had dribbled to nothing.

Cassie, wearing a simple, basic black camisole—the design was so exquisite, she absolutely loved it—was sitting on the floor with the last box. She pulled it close and opened it. Inside she found a note from Kate. “Think the lovely patrons of Pleasantville will like these?”

Cassie grinned as she laid out a selection of body jewelry. She could see the looks now, especially when the Pea-ville matrons were confronted with nipple and clit rings.

Cassie herself had once had her belly button pierced, but it had gotten in the way of certain photo shoots so she’d let it grow in.

But a nipple ring…if she wasn’t such a chicken when it came to pain she’d have the real thing. Since she never would, that left the clip-on variety. She opened up a package that held a pretty, delicate-looking silver hoop, slipped a spaghetti strap off one shoulder and bared a breast. With her fingers she plucked her nipple into a hard bead and applied the jewelry.

With a hiss, she let out a slow breath. It was a clamp of sort, but surprisingly, it didn’t hurt at all. And looking down at herself, she had to smile. “What do you think, Miss Priss? Pretty hot, huh?”

“Does my vote count?”

With a scream, Cassie leapt up, instinctively reaching out for a weapon as she did. That she grabbed Big Red—her nickname for a twelve-inch long, three-inch thick, glow-in-the-dark red dildo—didn’t matter. The sucker was heavy and she could wield it like a baseball bat no problem.

“Whoa, just me.”

In the back of her mind she recognized that incredibly sexy voice.

Not her stalker.

Not a Joe Blow off the street.

But dangerous, none the less. And she was standing there in a camisole with her faux-pierced nipple hanging out. Keeping hold of Big Red with one hand, she used the other to cover her breast. “You.”

“Me,” the sheriff agreed, partially stepping out of the shadows into the meager light let off by the lantern so that she could see just his face. His sharp eyes scanned everything, including her, while his long, rangy body remained utterly still. “I thought this building was supposed to be empty and I saw the light. Had a few complaints.”

“Let me guess. Mrs. McIntyre?”

“Among others.”

“I’ll bet. How did you get in?”

“You have a bum door. It’s locked but not shut all the way.”

“Look, the place is mine, no one in this bitter old town can say otherwise, so if you’re thinking about giving me another ticket—”

“Another ticket.” God, that voice of his. “Gotta tell you, Cassie, I wasn’t thinking ticket when I first saw you.” He shifted closer. “Have you done anything illegal lately?”

As he asked, his gaze ran leisurely over her, making her very aware of how she must look standing there holding a big, fat dildo and her own breast. “Uh…”

“Other than indecent exposure, that is?”

“Indecent?”

He cocked his head and looked her over good, his eyes eating her up. “Actually, that’s a matter of opinion.”

She could feel her other nipple tighten; she told herself she was cold. Which didn’t explain why the silk between her legs suddenly felt as soft and incredible as a man’s touch.

As he still stood in the shadows, she couldn’t see what he wore, but she imagined him in his uniform, and it hardened her against him despite the fact that he looked good enough to eat.

But the expression in his eyes as he drank in her scrap of black wasn’t a cop’s look. It was a man’s.

And something within her tingled. Lord, he was something, all rough-and-tumble ready. He’d make a nice diversion, wouldn’t he? If he wasn’t such a cop.

Go for it, honey, said Flo’s voice in her head. Get what you can and get out.

Standing there, he was tall, dark and shockingly, overtly sexy. It wouldn’t be hard to “go for it.” But beneath that laid-back, easygoing facade, he was tough as nails, and she knew it.

She’d never been shy about her own sensuality, but unlike Flo, she refused to let it run her life. Flo couldn’t resist a man.

And yet Flo had always brought men to their knees. Cassie liked that part. But something told her the big, bad Tag wouldn’t be easy to control. Bottom line—if she couldn’t be in charge, she never dallied.

Never.

Still, the summer loomed long and empty in front of her. If nothing else, surely she could get him to take care of her tickets…

Grab everything they’ll give you, Flo would say right now. Grab it and walk away.

Tag’s hot, hot gaze ran down her body, making her stomach quiver, making her forget the tickets. His gaze settled on Big Red. “Cassie, what were you going to do with that thing?”

Just his voice made her thighs clench. “Big Red? Did you know he glows in the dark?”

He lifted a brow. “What else does he do?”

He can drive you crazy, she thought, and let out a wicked smile.

3

OH, YEAH, Tag thought. No doubt about it, Cassie Tremaine Montgomery had a smile capable of rendering a grown man stupid. The outfit didn’t hurt, either.

Or lack of outfit.

Did she have any idea how she looked standing there in the glow of the lantern wearing…what the hell was that black thing anyway? It had wispy little straps that would be easy to nudge off with one fingertip, or a single touch of his tongue. One already hung off her arm. The bodice was sheer, except for the lace roses that strategically covered her nipples.

Or nipple, since the one was hidden from his view not by the lace flower but by Cassie’s own fingers. The sheer black slid over her belly and ended very high on her hips, with just a scant little strip disappearing between her thighs, where he imagined it was held together with a few strategic snaps.

His teeth itched to see how quickly he could undo them.

Which was bad, very bad. Even worse, just seeing her fingers on her own bare breast was enough to turn his insides quivering. She was touching herself, had been touching herself when he’d walked in. She wore a nipple ring and was handling the biggest dildo he’d ever seen. If there was a man in the world strong enough to not be brought to his knees by that image, Tag wasn’t him. “Cassie, what are you doing here, dressed like…that?”

“Haven’t you heard?” She seemed utterly unconcerned by her near nudity. He had to admit, he’d never seen a more mouthwatering, luscious body in his life. Covering it should be a crime. And if he was to believe even one quarter of the stories he’d heard about her, she apparently didn’t have a problem with uncovering it.

“We’re putting a new store in this building,” she said.

“We?”

“My cousin Kate and I. Bare Essentials. It’s a bit of a secret what we’re selling.”

“Why?”

“It’s going to be a…ladies’ shop.”

“Ah. You want to shock the good people of Pleasantville.”

“Oh, yeah, we do. You caught me playing with some of the merchandise.” She hefted the dildo in her free hand. “Think the good ladies of Pleasantville will admit to needing one of these bad boys?” She ran the tip—the very large, red, bulbous tip—across her collarbone.

His heart nearly stopped.

Down her stomach.

Riveted, he stood there practically panting.

“Hmm.” She pursed her glossed lips. “That reminds me.” The dildo dipped below her belly button. “We’d better sell batteries, too, don’t you think? I’d hate to force some shy thing into the hardware store with this bad boy.”

It wasn’t often Tag found himself speechless. Or with an uncontrollable erection while on duty. “Your strap. It’s…” He held her gaze as she stepped closer. Unable to stop himself, he reached out to slip a finger beneath her fallen strap, slowly bringing it back up. The material dragged over the breast she was covering with her hand making her other nipple tighten all the more. Her breath caught at that, he heard it, and it caused his own to do the same. Beneath his fingers he felt her warm, soft skin. Almost unaware, he’d dipped his head to hers. He didn’t have far to bend. She was a tall woman, which he’d just discovered was an incredible turn-on. Lying down, they’d be chest to chest, thigh to thigh, and everything in between would line up so damn perfectly….

She tilted her head slightly, too, and his jaw brushed her long hair. A silky strand clung to the slight stubble on his cheek, and he stilled to keep it there.

She moved again, lifting her head so that they were mouth to mouth, breathing each other’s air, which turned out to be the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced.

She licked her lips, and they were so close he felt the brush of her tongue against his lips. “Mmm,” she whispered. “It’s a night for this, don’t you think? A night for a memorable kiss.”

With a groan, he parted his lips and slid them to hers. Hot. Wet. Heaven. She opened for him and as his tongue lightly caressed, she gave in with a hungry sound that sent his every rational thought skittering out the door. Because it was quiet and relatively dark, and because he couldn’t think with her so close to him, he gave in to the hunger. Her lips parted farther and the kiss deepened into an explosive, frantic, lush mating of mouths and tongues. And for one glorious moment they connected—lost, wild, clinging—until she shifted a fraction to stare at him with eyes satisfyingly full of hunger and passion.

He still had his fingers entwined in her camisole. Beneath them her skin felt like silk. Hot silk. The taste of her was still on his tongue—forbidden passion and the promise of head-banging, toe-curling sex. No doubt, he had to get her covered before this got out of control, but the material of her lingerie stuck to the hand she held over her breast.

Slowly, still holding his gaze prisoner in her own, she pulled her hand free, giving him a devastatingly thorough glimpse of that silver hoop on her puckered nipple. Utterly unable to help himself, he lifted his hand and ran the pad of a finger over the mouthwatering tip. The hoop danced, her breast quivered. And every bit of saliva in his mouth dried up. In that moment he knew he was out of control, that at the slightest invitation from Cassie, they would be naked and rolling on the floor.

Then she let the material cover her breast, and he managed to take a breath.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

He would have whispered something back but he was still facing that whole speechless problem. Both nipples were hard, clearly defined. The one he’d just covered now had the clear outline of a circle around it, and picturing her placing that ring on herself all over again, he groaned.

“It’s not real,” she said softly. “It’s just a clip-on. I was just—”

“Trying on the merchandise. I know.”

“I have more. We have one for a guy.” She ran a finger down his chest, past his belly to the top button of his pants, which she toyed with, making his already straining erection painful. “Want to try it on? I can do it for you. You put it—”

“Cassie.”

She actually smiled. “Chicken?”

“No.” He let out a careful breath and caught her wandering fingers in his. “But I am on the very edge. Tease me another second and I’ll prove it to you.”

“Maybe next time, then.”

“Yeah.” His knees were actually knocking. Shocked at how much he wanted her, when she wasn’t what he wanted at all, he pulled away, closer to the lantern. He needed to see things clearly, damn it, he needed the electricity back on. The dark was lending an intimacy to this little episode that he didn’t need. He opened his mouth to say his goodbyes, maybe even offer an apology for barging in on her, for giving in to temptation, but Cassie had backed away, too.

No longer were her eyes open and warm. No longer was her body loose and relaxed. Instead she stood there staring at him as if he was the lowest form of life.

“What?” he asked, his head still spinning from their kiss.

She pointed at him with the dildo. “You’re on duty.”

Hadn’t he already said so?

“I…hadn’t really realized…you’re in uniform.”

Confused, he glanced down at himself. “Usually, this shirt is a turn-on for women,” he said, thinking to tease because he was at a loss to understand her.

Not that he wanted to. No, what he wanted…well, that was as dangerous as understanding her.

“I’m not your usual woman,” she said.

Wasn’t that the truth.

“I’m not turned on by bad attitude and authority.”

“Bad attitude?” He had to laugh. “I thought that was you.”

Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned away, but not before he caught a quick glimpse of her own confusion. Her own pain. It stopped him in his tracks. But then he caught more than that. He caught a good look at the back of her, and nearly had heart failure.

There was no back to her outfit. It dipped down in an open scoop far past her waist, so low that if she so much as shifted he was going to get quite the view. There the outfit would have resembled a pair of hot shorts, except the words “hot shorts” were too conservative. In any case, the scant material divided the most delicious-looking butt cheeks he’d ever seen.

“You’ve done your civil duty,” she said in a voice as cold as the south pole, which was in such direct opposition to that hot body he could only stand there gaping like an idiot.

“I’m not breaking and entering,” she said. “I’m not speeding. There’s really no need for you to be here.”

Well, that much was true. As a cop he had no need to be there. But he glanced at his watch and was rewarded by the time. “I’m off duty.”

She peered at him over one creamy shoulder and he lifted his wrist to show her. “It’s five minutes past midnight, which was when my shift ended.”

“A cop is always a cop.”

Why was she so angry? Risking life and limb he came close again, reaching out to touch her cheek. “I’m just a man.” A man who would die for another kiss.

She shifted away. “A cop.”

Her skin had been warm. Soft. And he wanted more, but she was still backing away. He snagged her hand, knowing she was far too proud to look weak and to try to pull free. “I don’t take my work home with me, Cassie. When I’m standing here with you like this, I’m not working.”

She let out a laugh he was sure she meant to be harsh, but it came out more as a question, making her seem…vulnerable.

But why? Why was she wary of him? Was it him as a man or as a cop? Either way, his gut clenched.

She wasn’t as tough as she wanted to be, and that was a huge shock. He thought he’d had her pegged; knowing he might be wrong about her was more than a little unsettling. Knowing that this hard-as-nails, gorgeous woman could be vulnerable did bad things to his resolution to stay away from her. With a little tug, he brought her closer still. Now he could smell her, all warm and clean and sexy female. His body went to war with his mind. His mind wanted to know more about her. Not his body; no, that part of him just wanted to haul her close. “Someone in a uniform hurt you,” he guessed.

She lifted a shoulder, neither denying nor confirming, and a part of him actually ached. “I’m sorry,” he said, and found himself startled to realize he meant it.

She lifted that shoulder again. “Don’t be too sorry, Sheriff.” She lifted the red dildo. “I was going to tease the hell out of you with this bad boy.”

He stared at it, felt his mouth go dry again as his penis jerked to hopeful attention. “You could still try.”

The smile on her lips didn’t meet her eyes. “Nah. The fun’s gone.” She stared pointedly at his hand on hers until he let go. “Good night, Sheriff.”

“Good night, Cassie.”

She waited until he got to the door. “You might think of me tonight,” she said softly. “I’m taking Big Red home, along with a pack of batteries.”

He groaned, and in tune to her low, satisfied laugh, he let himself out.

* * *

TWO WEEKS AFTER her arrival, Cassie was still keeping herself busy. She was in charge of readying the store, while Kate handled the inventory, getting lots of beautiful, sexy lingerie from her business partner and designer Armand.

Cassie made more calls to Kate, did more cleaning and painting. There was more delivering by Daisy in her UPS outfit and sweet smile.

It should be illegal to be sweet and innocent in Pleasantville.

Cassie had the Bare Essentials sign made, and the day it went up was fun. It gave her great satisfaction to stand directly beneath it and pretend she didn’t see the commotion it caused.

Up and down Magnolia Avenue, which had been designed for pleasant foot walking, people came out of the woodwork and stared.

“They’re talking,” Daisy whispered. “About…you.”

“Always.” Cassie looked at her. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.”

“Well, sure. You’re a legend.”

Cassie laughed. “A legend, huh?”

“No, really. You’re a homegrown hero come back to her roots. You made something of yourself.”

“I made something, all right.” But Daisy didn’t smile, and Cassie had to wonder…was she just imagining all the malicious curiosity? Her gaze met Mr. Miller’s widow from across the street, where she stood just outside the deli. Frowning.

Nope, definitely not imagining it. But…she did have to admit, most of the negative energy was coming from the older generation.

Maybe that was simply because Cassie hadn’t been around long enough to taint the younger one.

Since no one dared ask, she put up another sign, this one in the window, saying they’d open for business in two weeks.

“Two weeks?” Still wearing her apron, Diane came out from the Downtown Deli and stood under the sign. “Cool. I’m not sure what you’re selling, but I have a feeling Will’s going to love it.”

Cassie stared at her as Diane simply smiled and walked away. But then she shook it off. She had work to do.

Two weeks in which to get the place ready to go. It would be a challenge for both her and Kate, but they were up for that. For Cassie, she needed something to keep her mind off her career, off the trouble that had brought her here.

Off the sheriff.

Because really, who would have thought such a man could melt bones with a simple kiss? A simple touch? But there had been nothing simple about either his kiss or his touch. She’d underestimated him, that was certain, and it wouldn’t happen again.

Unless it was on her terms, of course.

Those terms were simple. If she could keep the control, if she could drive him crazy and walk away, then perfect.

Otherwise, she wasn’t interested.

Time to get back to work. Work. Not really a decent description for what she’d been doing because she’d actually been enjoying herself, all the way down to dressing the part of a co-owner of a ladies’ shop. She’d pulled out all the stops in that department, wearing some of the more outrageous clothes she’d collected over the years.

Take today, for instance. Her halter top had nothing but three straps across her back and her leather pants looked as if they’d been spray-painted on. After all, everyone expected the daughter of Flo to look a certain way—why not give it to them?

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?” Cassie turned around on the sidewalk and faced a woman. She was dressed simply in jeans and a sleeveless blouse, little to no makeup, and looked to be around thirty. There was a two-year-old clinging to her hand. “Can I help you?”

“Are you going to sell…” The woman blushed a little, and bit her lower lip.

Cassie sighed. “Let me make this easy for you. Bare Essentials will be a fully stocked women’s store. If you’re embarrassed to ask for it, chances are good that we’ll carry it.”

The woman nodded, then laughed at herself. “I’m sorry. My name is Stacie Harrison. I’ve been wanting to introduce myself.”

Probably wanted to satisfy her curiosity about the new harlot in town. Behind Stacie, literally hanging out of the Tea Room, were Mrs. McIntyre and her sister Mrs. Hampton. Their mouths were turned down in disapproving frowns. Cassie lifted a hand and waggled her fingers at them.

“Well, I never,” one exclaimed.

“Really? You never?” Stacie tsked. “That’s just a shame, ma’am.”

Both of them let out a collective gasp and, with daggers in their gazes, vanished back inside.

Cassie turned and stared at Stacie, who giggled. “Are you insane? They’re going to make you miserable now.”

“No one can do that but me,” Stacie said calmly.

Whatever. Stacie’s social suicide was none of her business. Cassie had a shop to open. She was doing this, and people needed to just get used to it. Turning to enter her shop, she stopped when Stacie put a hand on her arm.

“Did you know we’re neighbors? I live three doors down from you on the hill. I made you cookies last week but my ex-husband—the jerk—called and annoyed me, and I ended up eating them all myself. With Suzie here—” she smiled down at her toddler “—I haven’t had a chance to make another batch.”

“You…made me cookies.”

“Yes.” She smiled brightly. “My ex is a surgeon, you see. And he was boinking the X-ray tech. But the good news is I got the house.”

Cassie let out a startled laugh.

“Anyway,” Stacie went on, “I like to cook off my stress. I was going to bring them to you, maybe sit down with a glass of iced tea or something, and talk.”

“I don’t drink iced tea.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay.” Stacie smiled. “Water would have worked.”

What the hell was this woman’s angle? “If you want to see the inside of Flo’s house, all you have to do is ask. You know what? I’m thinking of conducting tours.” She could make a fortune. Too bad it wasn’t money she needed.

Stacie looked confused in the face of her sarcasm. “Flo? Who’s Flo?”

Right. “You don’t know my mother?”

“Should I?”

“She lived in the house before I did.”

“Oh. I saw her a few times but I’m sorry to say I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting her. And…” She looked around to make sure they were alone. “You know, I always wanted to live there, up on the hill, but to tell you the truth, now that I’m there I’m realizing it’s awfully quiet. I’m going stir-crazy.”

Uh-huh. The ex-wife of a surgeon. Mother of…a very sticky-looking kid. Bored? Cassie didn’t believe it. Not in Pleasantville. No, the town she knew like the back of her own hand didn’t breed nice, compassionate people. It bred smallness. Meanness.

And she was here to repay that in kind. “I’ve got to get busy.”

“Sure. I’m hoping to bake again tonight. If I do, I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh.” Maybe Cassie should give tours of just the bedroom, show everyone the mirrored ceilings. Wait. Maybe they should sell mirrors to put on the ceilings!

“See you tomorrow then.” Stacie smiled. “I’m glad we met.”

Before Cassie could process the words, Stacie walked away, swinging her daughter’s hand.

She was glad they’d met.

But how could that be?

* * *

CASSIE SPENT THE rest of the day and the next readying the interior of the building. She’d been working on it all week, paying for manual labor when she had to, using high school seniors who were grateful for the cash.

And who didn’t remember her from her youth.

She was sure their parents did, and wondered what they thought of Cassie now, paying their sons to do work for a Tremaine.

Then wondered why she cared. She didn’t care. Not one little bit.

Oh, damn them all anyway. It burned like hell that she’d never accomplish that last thing on her list. In this town’s eyes, no matter what, she’d never become someone.

And it burned even more that she thought about it.

It angered her enough to forego the cheap labor for the day and to do it all herself. The boys seemed quite disappointed when she’d told them to go. Cassie wasn’t sure if that was because of the cash she paid them, or her overalls, under which she wore a comfy, but very skimpy, crop-top.

Didn’t matter. They were gone and she was alone. Contrary to popular belief, she was very capable of hard work. She loved hard work.

The alone part was a little unnerving since she wasn’t exactly here in town for a picnic. But surely she was safe.

She really wanted to think so. She had to think so.

She stood on a ladder, paint splattered across the front of her designer cargo overalls, enjoying the paint fumes, when her cell phone rang. She unclipped it from her belt and let out a happy smile at the Caller ID. “Kate, my love, you should see this delicious shade of pink I found. It simply screams ‘come in, you must buy a new sex toy.’”

“I’d love to see it. How does next Friday sound?”

Cassie’s grin widened. “You’re coming!”

“I’m coming,” she agreed, but with a surprising lack of enthusiasm. “I can’t miss the grand opening, now can I?”

Cassie set down her brush and backed down the ladder. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Kate.”

“Can’t a girl just call her favorite cousin?”

“I’m your only cousin. Spill it. Does it have anything to do with that guy you saw when you were here? The one you won’t tell me about?”

“Jack? No.”

“Then what?”

Across the miles, her cousin sighed. “You remember how before you left, you arranged to have all your mail forwarded to me for the duration?”

“Yes.” Cassie’s heart kicked into gear. “So no one could locate me through the postal service while I’m here. What’s the matter, are my bills piling up?” Her mouth was suddenly dry. “You were going to just send them on to me, and—”

“It’s not your bills.”

“Too many magazines, huh?” Oh, God. Please don’t let it be what she feared.

“It’s not the magazines, either. Though I am enjoying Playgirl, thanks.”

“Okay.” Cassie pulled off the painter’s cap and let her hair fall free. She sat on an unopened five-gallon can of paint and unhooked one side of her overalls for freedom of movement. “Let me guess…” She was surprised at how fast her pulse could race. “You got a letter from him.”

“He’s not happy you’ve vanished from the face of the earth, Cass. He’s scaring me.”

He was scaring her, too. Peter. One of the first men she’d met when she’d gone to New York. He was a photographer, and he’d taken her first publicity shots for a price she’d been able to afford—a date. They hadn’t slept together because unlike Flo, Cassie had her own personal standards, which included never sleeping with a man when business was involved.

So they’d become casual friends. And as Cassie’s career had boomed, she’d done her best to get Peter jobs. Occasionally, while between relationships, he’d drink too much and try to tell Cassie she was the one for him. She always gently turned him down, knowing his next girlfriend was right around the corner, and she’d always been right.

Their friendship had sustained.

Until now.

Now, he was her stalker.

Cassie shivered. Though she was not a woman to let fear run her life, this guy truly got to her. Enough to have uprooted everything.

Hard to admit she’d been stupid enough to actually trust a man. And look what it had gotten her. He’d taken her away from her career, away from her life, and sent her back to a town she was fairly certain wasn’t ready for her. Wouldn’t ever be ready for her.

“He says he’s never going to stop looking for you, Cassie,” came Kate’s stressed voice. “You’re the only one for him, and if he can’t have you, he says no one else can, either.”

Okay, now her heart was ricocheting off her ribs. She’d known he’d never really recovered from the last dumping by that waitress/actress-wannabe.

And this time, unlike the others, he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the fact Cassie wasn’t interested in him that way.

Not only not interested, but good and truly scared. He’d broken into her place. Touched her things. Left her a threatening note on her mirror in her own lipstick. You’re mine.

Then he’d vanished. Which is why the police hadn’t been able to get to him. Which was how she’d ended up with a restraining order, and then landed herself here. “I’m okay here, Kate. I never talked about my past with Pete.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you think?”

Her cousin actually let out a relieved little laugh. “Yeah. How silly. Thinking you’d open up and tell someone about yourself. Much less open up to a man.”

“He has no idea I’m not a native New Yorker. Even all those years ago when I first got started, he had no idea.”

“Okay, but I’m still coming. I want to see you. It’s been too long. And I want to do more to get the store ready—the opening will be a thrill. Can’t miss that, or the chance for some good old-fashioned revenge. And then there’s my mom’s house. I have to take care of that situation. I talked to Flo and I’m going to stay in her half of the duplex, since Mom is renting out her side.”

“And you know all of Flo’s old furniture is in my garage. We’ll haul it out for you when you get here.”

“Which won’t be until Friday so I’d feel better if you’d tell someone there what’s going on.”

Cassie snorted. “Who am I going to tell, someone in the Tea Room?”

“How about the sheriff?”

“I’ll see you soon, Kate.”

She sighed. “Love you, Cass.”

“Love you, too.” Cassie clipped the cell phone back onto her belt and stared sightlessly across the future Bare Essentials. Kate was worried.

And damn it, so was she. Big time.

4

ON CASSIE’S WAY HOME that night she made a trip to the library. For nostalgia’s sake, she told herself, moving directly to the small paperback section at the back. It smelled the same and, oddly comforted by that, Cassie sank into one of the beanbag chairs that had surely been in the same spot since the flower-power sixties. How many hours had she sat in here, inhaling one historical romance after another, lost in a world that had always been a better world than hers?

“Oh, Barry, stop. You’re making my knees weak.”

What? Cassie craned her neck. Behind her, in the doorway to the backrooms, stood Mrs. Wilkens whispering into a cell phone.

“I know you’re my husband, you silly man. But I told you, we can’t have phone sex until my break.” She grinned.

The old lady with the severe white bun and pursed lips grinned. At her husband. As he gave her phone sex.

Cassie had entered the twilight zone.

“Call me later,” Mrs. Wilkens whispered. “Yes, I’ll bring home another romance novel, don’t worry. Some new ones just came in…. I love you, too.” She slipped her cell phone into her pocket and then went very still when she saw Cassie.

Who didn’t quite know what to say. A definite first. “You…you have phone sex?” she managed to say.

“Romance readers have a sixty percent better sex life than nonreaders,” she sniffed. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have put out some more books for you.”

“You’d have…” Cassie narrowed her gaze, suddenly transported back in time. Every time she’d sneaked into the library, she’d always found a stack of new books seemingly waiting just for her. It had been her own little miracle. Her oasis in a life of hell. “You…” Oh, my God. “You.”

Mrs. Wilkens nodded. “We had the same tastes. And it seemed to keep you off the streets.”

“But…I thought you hated me.”

Mrs. Wilkens smiled, her face softening. “You thought everyone hated you. Hang on, I’ll find you some books.”

Oh, yeah. She’d definitely entered the twilight zone. But Mrs. Wilkens came back with three books Cassie had been eager to read. Unbelievable.

When she finally left the library and drove home, she sat in her car for a moment, staring up at the big, dark house on Lilac Hill, wishing she’d thought to leave every light burning.

“Meow.”

“Yeah, yeah.” With one last apprehensive look at the dark walkway, Cassie got out of the car, reached for the cat and got hissed at for her efforts. “Fine. Walk. Hope there aren’t any dogs out here.”

Miss Priss lifted her chin and leapt from the car like royalty, leading the way with her head held high.

Cassie had to admit, the attitude helped. When she imitated the cat and threw her shoulders back, head up, she felt better. Invisible. Or was that invincible?

She just wished she had claws like Miss Priss, on the off chance she needed them.

But no one jumped out and yelled boo.

There was, however, a package on the porch, which gave her one bad moment. She opened it, pretending her fingers weren’t shaking as she did so, and found the most incredible-smelling batch of chocolate cookies. Her mouth watered—mostly because she’d skipped lunch.

“What do you think, Miss Priss? Poisonous? Or delicious?” When the cat didn’t so much as look at her, Cassie took a tentative bite. “Mmm.”

She’d been walking through the decadent house flipping on all the lights, munching on cookies for dinner, when the knock came at the door. Cassie opened it and found the woman from town standing there, minus the toddler.

“Hi, remember me? Stacie?” Stacie grinned at the cookie in each of Cassie’s hands. “Oh, good. You’re enjoying the goodies I made.”

“They’re heaven,” Cassie admitted. “I have no idea how I’ll fit into my work clothes in the fall, but thanks.”

Stacie smiled. “No problem.”

Cassie nodded in what she considered a friendly, neighborly manner, not that she’d ever had any neighbors to be friendly with. When she’d lived in this town growing up, she hadn’t been allowed to talk to her neighbors—except for Kate—as in the house on one side of the duplex had lived a man who’d sold drugs, and in the other the resident had a police record a mile long.

In New York, she’d never even seen her neighbors.

So she didn’t have a lot of experience to go on here. She waited for Stacie to get to the bottom of her visit. To tell her what she wanted.

But the woman just stood there. Cute as a button. Still smiling.

“Uh…” Cassie offered a half smile. “So…”

“This is where you invite me in for a drink,” Stacie said helpfully.

“Oh.” Cassie looked over her shoulder and wondered if she’d cleaned up after herself. “Well…”

“That’s okay.” Stacie reached out and squeezed her hand. “We can work our way up to that. But you could do me one little favor.”

Here it was.

“Tomorrow’s opening day of the carnival.”

“Carnival.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know about Pleasantville’s annual carnival! The one to raise money for arts in the schools. Held at the beginning of every summer.”

Oh, Cassie knew all about the carnival. She’d sneaked her first beer at the carnival. Her first cigarette.

Lost her virginity.

Oh, yeah, she had a whole host of whoopee memories from the annual event. “Let’s just say I’m not particularly fond of it,” she said carefully.

“Oh.”

Stacie looked so disappointed, Cassie sighed. “What’s the favor?”

“I’m going to be sitting in the dunking booth. Thought you’d come by and say hi. Since the divorce I haven’t socialized very much and…” She lifted a shoulder and let out a little laugh. “And it’s been a bit lonely, you know?”

Friends. Is that what Stacie wanted? Ha! Obviously she hadn’t been listening to the town gossip lately. As for lonely…ah, hell. “Yeah, fine. I’ll stop by.”

Stacie’s entire face lit up, and before Cassie could blink she was enveloped in a hug. “See you tomorrow,” Stacie whispered, and then she was gone.

Leaving Cassie with one more thing to think about.

* * *

PLEASANTVILLE’S ANNUAL carnival brought out the best and the worst in the general population. There were clowns, games, crafts, rides and enough junk food to keep the town in stomachaches for the rest of the year.

There were also whiny kids, grumpy parents, the occasional drunk and a slew of trouble-seeking high school kids out to score.

Not to mention the heat. Dark had fallen and yet at nearly ninety degrees, the temperature hadn’t.

Not exactly the way Tag would have chosen to spend a Saturday night. He wasn’t on duty, not officially anyway, but they were still short staffed due to the flu, and he knew his presence would help.

The music pulsed loud, as well as all the hooting and hollering from the rides and games. Pulling his shirt away from his damp skin, he strode up and down the aisles thinking of how he’d rather be spending his evening.

In front of ESPN. With air-conditioning.

No, scratch that. In the arms of a woman. Yeah, now there was a way to pass time. His nice, quiet, sweet, loving woman, whose entire life would center around him and his needs. And though she’d be quiet, she wouldn’t be shy. No way. She’d be wildly passionate and erotically sensual.

She’d greet him at the door wearing his opened shirt and nothing else but a smile.

Now there was a fantasy.

He strode down a row of games, then around a corner to another aisle, stopping to gulp down a large lemonade. People had shown up in force tonight to support their schools, but few had found this area yet. He could see straight ahead to the dart game, where all one had to do was pop three balloons to win a prize.

A woman stood there. There were women all over the place, but this one, dressed to kill in her jade-green haltered sundress, stood out. She was concentrating fiercely, her back to him as she threw back her arm, aimed…and missed.

He knew that long, slim back. Those blond waves tumbling over straight, proud shoulders. Those long, long legs that could wrap around a man and—

“Shit,” she muttered, and shoved a hand into her pocket. That she came out with another buck surprised him, as her skirt appeared to have been painted on.

Several women passed Cassie, each of whom stopped to stare at her, then kept going, laughing unkindly. Tag frowned and opened his mouth to say something but Cassie flipped them off and went back to shooting.

It made him grin.

And suddenly he was incredibly glad he’d come. Still grinning, he sauntered up to the booth and leaned a hip against it as he turned casually toward her.

She didn’t even glance at him, just accepted her new darts from an awed-looking, pimply-faced teenage boy and aimed again.

Two balloons in a row, bull’s-eye. Pop. Pop.

“One dart away for the big prize,” the boy told her with a huge, dopey smile on his face. “You have to hit all three to get the—”

“I know what I have to do.” She threw the dart.

“Close,” Tag said conversationally when she missed by a mile. “But no cigar.”

Oh, she noticed him now. Narrowed her very incredible, very green, very expressive eyes on him. “You distracted me.”

He lifted his hands. “Hey, you didn’t even see me until just now.” Slipping a hand into his pocket, he came out with another buck. “But here. Try again, on me.”

“I’m not taking your money.” She slapped down her own dollar. “Back off, you’re in my space.”

“Backing off.” But he didn’t. She smelled too good, looked too good. He wasn’t going anywhere.

She didn’t even notice. In fact, she appeared to forget about him as she took aim. And this time hit her target. Then did it again.

“One more time,” the kid said, ever so helpfully, and Cassie lowered the third dart and glared at him. He took a step back. “Sorry. I just know how bad you want this pretty teddy bear here.”

“Teddy bear, huh?” Tag tucked his tongue into his cheek as she aimed and once again missed her third and winning shot. “I gotta tell you, I never really pictured you as a teddy bear type, Cassie.”

“Oh, she wants it really bad,” the kid offered as Cassie grated her teeth. “She’s already put at least ten bucks on it.”

“Is that right?” Tag looked at Cassie and lifted a brow. “You need something cuddly to sleep with at night, Cassie?”

She sighed. “Is there a reason why you’re standing there staring at me?”

“Well…” He scratched his jaw and looked her over, from the long neck he suddenly wanted to nibble on, to the breasts nicely outlined behind her halter, down her curved hips and mile-stretch legs. Her toenails were hot pink tonight, and she wore a silver toe ring, reminding him of the nipple ring. Was she wearing it now? “You are something to look at.”

With a roll of her eyes, she slapped down another buck and went back to the task at hand. Aimed. Let it rip, and Tag had to admit, she knew what she was doing.

Pop. Pop.

Two balloons down.

“Only one to go,” he offered.

Her hand lowered, and she shot him a withering look. “Don’t talk.”

He smiled and waited until she aimed again. “You know, if you want the teddy bear that badly, I could win it for you.”

“I’ll win it myself, thanks.”

“Oka-a-ay,” he said, and watched as she missed.

She swore with impressive skill, then dug into her pocket again. Came up empty. Swore some more.

“My offer still stands.” He smiled when she bared her teeth at him. “If you’re interested. I’ll win it for you.”

“Sure you will.”

He put a hand to his chest. “Your doubt wounds me. But you should know, I was all-city dart champ.”

Cocking a hip, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Really.”

“Really.”

“So you’ll win me the teddy bear.”

“Just said so, didn’t I?”

She studied him, then let out a little laugh. “Okay, cocky man, what happens then? After you win?”

“I hand you the prize.”

“And?”

“And…” He let out a slow, wicked grin, both because he could taste victory and because she was so incredibly hot. And fun. That was the shocker. He was having fun with her. “And in return, you give me a prize.”

Her eyes narrowed to little slits. “Which would be what exactly?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll think about it.” He slapped down a buck, accepted his three darts. Aimed.

And was stopped by a hand on his arm. He looked into deep green eyes that held a world of knowledge. “I don’t want the teddy bear.”

“Liar,” he said softly, and hit the first balloon. “But that’s okay. The bear will look good on my bed.” He hit the second balloon.

Pop.

She tossed back her hair. Looked at him with fire-spitting eyes. Then caved. “Okay, damn you, I want the bear.” Her fingers dug into his arm. “Name your price.”

They weren’t touching—other than her fingernails digging into his biceps, that is—but their mouths were only a fraction apart. Hers was all glossy and smelled like peaches.

He loved peaches.

Their breath comingled, and with a sharp stab of lust he remembered exactly how good those lips tasted. He wanted another taste. “My price?” He lifted the third remaining dart. Weighed it in his hand. “A kiss.”

A laugh escaped her. “Just a kiss? You don’t aim very high for yourself, do you?”

“On the contrary…” He narrowed his gaze, studied the distance to the remaining balloon. Hefted the dart. “I know exactly what I want. And I’m not afraid to get it.” Turning his head, he shot her a last look. “How about you?”

“I know what I want.”

“The teddy bear.” He smiled. “But I’ve discovered I want it, too.” He aimed, but before he could throw the dart she stopped him.

“Fine,” she said.

He set down the dart. “Fine what?”

“You want me to say it?”

“Yep.”

That earned him a roll of her eyes. “If you win the bear, I’ll give you a kiss for it. Okay? Right here, right now.”

“Oh, no,” he said with a shake of his head. “Not right here.”

“Where then?”

“Where I say.”

She looked him over. Wanted to tell him to go to hell, he could tell. “You have twenty-four hours to claim it, big boy, or all bets are off.”

“Deal.” He leaned close and she tilted her head back, away from him. Lifting a finger, she wagged it in his face. “Gotta win it first, ace.”

He arched a brow, then showed her he was just leaning in to grab the dart.

She crossed her arms and didn’t offer another word.

He smiled and tossed the dart.

And won the girl the bear.

Handing it to her, he grinned and said, “You’re welcome.” He watched as she turned away and buried her face into the bear’s neck, her arms hugging the thing tight. Because suddenly his throat was tight as well, he cleared it. “So…Are we going steady now?”

“In your dreams.” She huffed off, a vision in her little sundress, her blond hair flying everywhere, arms wrapped around the huge bear.

The kid running the booth watched her go. “That was amazing, dude.”

“Yeah.” But all Tag could think about was his prize. And it was walking away.

So he did what any red-blooded, aroused man would do. He followed her.

* * *

CASSIE STALKED through the carnival, glaring at any man who so much as looked at her. And there were plenty. Women looked, too, if her itchy shoulder blades were any indication. Good. Let them look at bad-ass, no-good, trouble-seeking Cassie Tremaine.

The high-heeled sandals had been a mistake, she thought now, because she couldn’t really motor in the them. Should have worn tennis shoes.

Had she even packed tennis shoes?

“Cassie.”

Oh, that voice.

“Cassie, wait up.”

Nope. She kept walking, smiling as though she was the queen of the ball, as if the sexiest, most obnoxious man she’d ever met wasn’t striding behind her.

He’d won her the teddy bear. Not only that, her heart had gone all pitter-pattery watching him do it. Unacceptable, really. She had no need for a man doing something she was capable of doing for herself. She wasn’t like her mother, damn it.

She had no need for a man, period. Never had. Not knowing who her father was, having never had a positive male role model, having never had men do anything but drool when they looked at her, she supposed she had a rather low view of men in general, but not one had ever proven her wrong. Not yet anyway.

At least Tag wasn’t wearing his uniform. Maybe that was the trouble, she thought now. Because without the uniform she obviously couldn’t be trusted to remember she didn’t like him.

The carnival wasn’t that big, and before she knew it she was in the parking lot. Good thing she’d gone and dunked Stacie before going for the teddy bear, because she was good and ready to leave now.

But not to go home. Home was dark and lonely, with only a grumpy cat waiting for her. And nightmares of Pete finding her.

The night was still and hot. She’d give just about anything for a cool breeze. And that’s when she decided.

The lake.

It wasn’t a very far walk, and her feet were tougher than they looked. She wanted to see the lake by moonlight, and what she wanted, she got. She started off, hugging the teddy bear, not listening in the least for Tag’s footsteps. But even if she had been, they weren’t there to hear.

Good. He’d gone away. Just as she wanted.

Bastard.

The moment she stepped off the road and onto the little sandy beach, she set down the teddy bear—careful that it didn’t get covered in sand—and kicked off her sandals. Her toes dug into the wet sand and she nearly moaned at the cool pleasure of it. This. This is what she’d needed. She walked to the water, letting it lap at her ankles.

Alone. “His loss,” she told the moon.

“Not yet, it’s not.”

She was not going to scream, jump, or give any sign that he’d nearly scared her right out of her skin. Again. Calmly, with a little smile on her lips, she turned. “What are you doing?”

“Collecting my prize.” He stepped close, so very close that she could see the moonlight dancing in his eyes. Could feel the heat of his big, tough body.

Tensing, Cassie waited, because she wouldn’t welsh on her promise. She’d pay the price. She held very still, waiting to be grabbed. Groped. Conquered.

But he did none of the above, just stepped even closer, careful not to smash her toes.

“What—”

“Shh,” he said before sliding his arms around her and putting his mouth to hers. She should have known from their earlier encounter he was different. There was no grabbing, no groping, no conquering. Nothing even close. Yes, his arms were strong and firm, but also loose enough she could wriggle free if she wanted to.

She thought about it for all of one second. He was tall, powerfully built, and smelled like heaven. It wasn’t often she stood in a man’s embrace with every thought draining out of her head, but it happened now as his hands cupped her face, almost reverently, tipping her head for better access.

Oh, yes, better access was good. So good she arched against him. The sound he made low in his throat caused a mirroring one in hers.

At that, the kiss went instantly explosive. His tongue slid home. He hauled her body up against his. And still, she didn’t want to be free. The opposite, she realized dimly, snaking her arms around his neck to hold on tight.

With the touch of her fingers on the back of his neck, he groaned, a very erotic sound, and nibbled at her lower lip.

Ohmigod, was all Cassie could think, and then she couldn’t have repeated even that. Her knees wobbled; her heart rammed against her ribs as they practically ate each other alive. This…this—whatever it was they were doing to each other—was far more than she had bargained for, and still it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She, a woman who never wanted more from a man. Never.

It took her a moment to realize he’d released her, and that she stood there weaving like a drunk.

“Thank you,” he said very politely, in direct contrast to the way he was breathing as if he’d run five miles. Uphill. “That was…”

“Yeah.” She licked her lips, tasting him on her. “That was…” Craving his mouth back on hers, she licked her lips again.

He made another rough sound, almost a growl. “Unless you want to extend that price you negotiated, don’t.”

“Don’t…?”

“Don’t look at me as if I’m the first one who’s ever kissed you stupid. Don’t stand there weaving weakly with lust…Ah, hell. Don’t even breathe. Yeah, that should do it.” He turned from her, shoved his hands through his hair and stared out at the lake.

Shocked, she looked at him. Really looked at him—at his stiff shoulders, his rough breathing—and knew he was as out of control as she was.

And how annoying was it that she no longer wanted him just so that she could cross another item off her revenge list. She wanted him because…well, just because. “It got a little out of hand, that’s all.”

He shot her a look of disgust over his shoulder. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

Before she knew what he was about, he turned, lifted a hand and caressed her cheek. “So it wouldn’t, couldn’t, happen again, right?”

She barely caught herself from closing her eyes and sighing at the surprising tenderness of his big, warm hand. “Of course not.”

“Liar,” he whispered softly. Before she could snarl at him for that, he walked away.

5

TWO DAYS LATER Tag still couldn’t get that kiss out of his head. It went with him to work, to play, to bed…and that’s where it was the worst. Bed.

He wanted Cassie there with him, he couldn’t deny that. He wanted her badly.

But why? She was bad attitude personified. She hated everything about him, his life, his job.

So what did that say about him, being so undeniably attracted to her?

That he was sick, very sick.

But knowing it didn’t stop the desire, so that when he walked into his office after a day from hell, desperately in need of coffee and some time off, and saw her standing there in front of his receptionist, his gut took a hungry leap.

He told himself it was simply because she exuded sex appeal and it had been…well, longer than it should have since his last sexual experience.

It was the outfit, he decided. She wore a microskirt the color of a field of daffodils, and a matching zippered crop-top, out of which came two spaghetti straps from what he assumed was a bathing suit worn beneath. Her hair had been piled on top of her head, with strands tumbling free to her shoulders. And then there were her legs—long and toned and bare except for a pair of strappy sandals.

“I was just wondering if the restraining order I took out in New York protects me here,” she was saying, and all Tag’s lusty thoughts flew right out the window. “Because I’ve received some more threatening mail and—”

“What restraining order?” Tag asked, moving close. “What threatening mail?” She smelled like coconut oil. He loved coconut oil. Ordering himself not to notice her scent, or to picture what she was obviously dressed for—sunbathing—he looked into her green, green eyes.

“If you don’t mind, I’m having a conversation with your receptionist,” she said. “A private conversation.”

Roxy, who’d been working at the station since his father had been sheriff, shot him a sympathetic look, then turned back to Cassie. “You do have a restraining order already in place? In New York, you said, right? Can you give us the details?”

Cassie glance sideways at Tag. “Us?”

“Well, the sheriff here is really good at what he does,” Roxy assured her. “He can help protect you—we just need to know what’s going on. We’ll need to know who the restraining order is for, what specifically, and any other pertinent details for our records.”

“Such as why you didn’t tell me when you first hit town,” Tag said lightly, not feeling light at all.

Cassie picked up the purse she’d set on the counter. “You know what? Never mind.”

“But—” Roxy made a frustrated sound when Cassie pivoted away and headed toward the door.

“Thanks anyway,” Cassie called over her shoulder.

Not even her curvy little ass could sidetrack him now. With one last glance at Roxy, who lifted her shoulders to indicate she knew as much as he did, he followed Cassie.

Who gave no indication that she even noticed.

“Cassie,” he said as she strode out of the station and into the early evening.

Her heels clicked on the asphalt. Everyone she passed took a good long second look, both men and women. Some started talking. Cassie didn’t so much as look at a single one of them.

“Cassie,” he said again, but as she was having no part of him, it left him following her like some damn puppy dog. But she’d tweaked his curiosity—and concern—and if there was anything more dogged than a curious, concerned cop, he didn’t know what it was.

At her car, she opened her purse. Slid on sunglasses.

“Cassie.”

Pulling out her keys, she opened her door, and would have slid inside if he hadn’t put a hand on her waist.

Going still, she stared down at his hand, which looked large and imposing on the paler, softer skin of her very tantalizing middle. “I paid the debt the other night,” she said very quietly. “We’re even, remember?”

With a rather unprofessional oath, he dropped his hand. “Do you think I care about that?”

“You’ve got a penis, don’t you?”

He sucked in a slow careful breath because something about her stoked his temper every time. “You wanted the teddy bear, I won it for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. He-Man. And I paid your price.”

“That’s right,” he said, keeping his voice even with effort. “End of story.”

“Then why are we still talking about it?”

“Because you brought it up!” Lord, she could try the patience of a saint. He took a deep breath. “I want to hear about the restraining order. About your threatening mail.”

“Yeah, well that was a private conversation and you were eavesdropping.” But she seemed less hostile now and he forced himself to relax.

Forced himself to be the calm cop he knew he was. And once he did that, he had to admit it bugged the hell out of him that she thought he’d insist on more “payment” for that damn teddy bear.

Had she really never met a guy who didn’t want something from her? He knew she didn’t have a father around—never had. He knew what Biff had wanted from her. But what about others? Hadn’t there been others? Anyone who’d just been there for her? Given her attitude, he had to doubt it. That thought unsettled him to the core, and if the kiss hadn’t so rocked his world, he might have spared a moment to feel guilty he’d asked her for that much.

Then he realized something else, that she was avoiding looking at him, and when he took a good look, he saw why.

She was uncomfortable around him. Interesting. If she’d paid the debt, and it was as over as she’d said, why wouldn’t she look at him? “Cassie, talk to me.” He paused. “Please.”

With an exaggerated sigh, she tipped her head and looked skyward. “You know me. Wild Cassie Tremaine. I go looking for trouble. Just ask anyone.”

“Pleasantville isn’t Mayberry,” Tag said. “We have our fair share of village idiots.” With his cousin leading the pack.

“Surely you’ve heard the stories.”

“And I sincerely doubt any of them are true.”

Her gaze jerked up to his. Oh, yeah, he’d managed to surprise her. Had no one ever believed in her?

“I’m just having some trouble with an obsessed guy, that’s all,” she said finally.

“A fan?”

“Sort of.”

This he didn’t like. He imagined, given her chosen occupation, she faced similar problems all the time. That she actually needed a restraining order was deeply disturbing. “How serious is the trouble?”

She lifted a shoulder and didn’t look at him.

“Serious enough for a restraining order.” He turned her to face him, left his hands on her bare upper arms because he wanted her unsettled enough to talk. “I can find out with or without you, but I’d rather you tell me.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” She shrugged him off. “I’m safe here. Nothing bad can happen in Pleasantville, right…Sheriff?”

“Do you have a thing against all cops or just me?”

“Oh, definitely all cops, but especially second generation ones.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered. “You know my father.”

“I grew up here, didn’t I? Right here in good old Pleasantville, where, like I said, nothing bad could ever happen.” Her laugh didn’t convince him, but mostly because it wasn’t humor in her eyes now but…hurt? If he had to guess, he’d have said plenty of bad things had happened to her, right here in Pleasantville.

“Look, I just…had a long night last night and got a little spooked. Okay?”

“I can’t imagine you being spooked for anything less than a good reason.”

“I know. I’m so tough I’d scare away the mob.”

She didn’t look so tough right now. “Cassie. You’re scaring me.”

“Look, Pete’s just a typical guy. He thought he could have something I didn’t want to give him, and he’s pissed. He’ll get over it.”

“Pete. A…lover?”

She ripped off her sunglasses, her eyes gleaming. “None of your damn business. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m headed to the lake for some time alone.”

“It’s going to be getting dark soon.”

“Thanks, Einstein.”

He looked into the open convertible. Miss Priss lay asleep on the passenger seat, next to a picnic basket and a book. “The Rogue’s Kiss?” he asked in surprise, staring at the historical romance novel with the half-naked guy on the cover.

“Do you think underwear models can’t read?”

“You read…romance?”

“Shockers, isn’t it?”

What was shocking was the layers to her. Who’d have thought Cassie Tremaine would have a romantic side?

She sank into the car, started it. “Unless you didn’t meet your ticket quota for the week, back off. I’d hate to run over those toes on my way outta here.”

Risking it, he held open her door. “Is that why you’re in town? To get out of the limelight for a while to avoid this guy?”

“I’m in town opening—”

“Bare Essentials. Yeah, yeah.” He gripped the hand that would have slid on her sunglasses again. “I’m not buying that anymore, Cassie. You’re here because you’re scared. How long are you staying?”

“Until I feel like hitting the road again. Now move.”

He did, only because he felt the tremble in her fingers and it shocked him. Vulnerability? He’d seen a flash of it before and dismissed it because it was unthinkable. The smart-ass, tough-as-hell Cassie couldn’t be vulnerable.

Or was she? He couldn’t help but feel that he’d missed something about her. That there was more to the tall, incredibly beautiful, distant woman than she wanted everyone to see.

He watched her peel out of the parking lot, heading toward the lake. It frustrated him that he’d been unable to figure out who the hell she really was.

He went back inside the station, thinking maybe he’d just try harder.

Roxy looked at him with a raised brow. “What’s up with the lingerie lady?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“You’d better get one.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well…” Roxy glanced at the door, a worried look on her face. “I know people like to whisper about her behind her back, talk about her like she was the wild child from hell all those years ago…”

“And?”

“And I think it was just that…talk. I think she’s got guts, coming back here. She holds her head up like it doesn’t matter what people say, but…”

He sighed, because Roxy was always like this, always had to be coaxed out of her stories. “But?”

“But she’s scared, Sheriff. A woman like that, who’s been through so much…she doesn’t get scared easily. And yet she is.”

Tag thought about that as he changed out of his uniform. As he promised himself pizza and a beer. But then the funniest thing happened.

His car drove to the lake, just as the sun took its final dip beneath the horizon. Bypassing the popular swimming hole, he drove around to the east side, where a quiet bay surrounded by trees and growth made a more private area.

It was where he’d kissed Cassie only a few nights before.

He parked next to the only other car around, a sunshine-yellow Porsche.

It was open and unlocked, and he shook his head. She should be more careful. He stopped to stroke Miss Priss, who stretched, purred, and went right back to sleep on the passenger seat. “If only your mistress was as easy to please,” he said, then headed off on the trail down to the beach.

The night was a dark one already, with just a few silvery clouds. The heat from the day hadn’t begun to fade, which was why the sound of the water hitting the shore in gentle waves made him yearn to dive in.

The small bay was deserted—unless he counted the sexy mermaid playing around in the water. She popped up about twenty feet out, her back to him. Her long wet hair clung to her shoulders, which gleamed in the meager light. Tipping her head back to the night sky, her eyes were closed, and on her face was an expression he’d never seen before.

Contentment.

Then she bent to dive deep. For a second he had the magnificent view of her backside, and the small patch of wet material dividing the most perfect set of buns he’d ever seen.

Then she was gone.

He stared at the water, waiting for her to surface, and she didn’t disappoint. She came up only about five feet out now, and facing him. “I already ate the picnic,” she said, treading water.

“I’m not hungry.” For food, that is.

Still treading water, she studied him, only her elegant neck and face showing. “You coming in?”

And have that long, sleek, wet body within reach? Slowly he shook his head. “That would be a bad idea.”

“No bathing suit, huh?”

“No.”

“That can be fixed.” She reached behind her back for a moment, then flung something that landed at his feet.

He scooped up two tiny triangles and some string, dangled it from his fingers. Her bikini top.

His mouth went dry.

Then something equally wet hit him in the chest. Catching it with his other hand, he held up…her bottoms. This time it wasn’t just his mouth that reacted. “What are you doing?”

“Treading water. Naked.” She smiled the smile of an angel.

And if he could have, he would have laughed. “Cassie.”

“You sure say my name a lot. Don’t worry, slick. Your virtue is safe with me. I just thought I’d put us on even playing ground. You can strip down and come in now.”

Hallelujah, cried his body.

Holy shit, cried his mind.

Good thing his mind was in control, barely. “You want me to come in. Without my clothes.”

“Unless you want to get them wet.”

“I want to talk about your visit to the station. What the hell is going on?”

Instead of answering, she floated on her back for a moment before executing a perfect back somersault. At the flash of generous breasts, then flat belly, then…he nearly swallowed his tongue. Tan lines. She had lots of tan lines.

He loved tan lines. Christ, just shoot him now.

“Are you coming?” she asked when she surfaced.

Nearly in his pants. “About the restraining order—”

“I’m tired of shouting.”

“So you’ll talk to me if I come in.”

“You’re quick, Tag.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t believe her. “Why are you being…nice?”

She blinked at that.

“Is it because I’m not in my uniform?”

Now those eyes chilled and she dipped down to her chin. “Your uniform has nothing to do with this.”

“Really?” Ripping his T-shirt over his head, his hands went to the buttons on his Levi’s. To hell with being stoic. To hell with restraint. To hell with not taking what he wanted when it was being offered to him. “Then why do you only talk to me when I’m out of it?”

“Because I don’t like it?”

He undid his first button, watching her watch him very closely, the desire unmistakable. Good. She wanted him, too. They could scratch this itch and get it the hell out of their way. But he wanted to hear her say it, wanted to hear that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“You look hot.” She splashed him, just a little.

And he opened another button. “You want to watch what you start, Cassie.”

“Oh, I’m watching.” And she was. She hit him with another splash.

Another button.

More desire.

“Get in the water, Tag. Cool off.” With that, she allowed the very tips of her breasts to break the surface.

His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as he kicked off his shoes and socks.

Then shoved off the rest of his clothes.

And my, oh, my, Cassie thought, her body humming already, he looked amazing naked. She splashed him again for the sheer pleasure of watching water running down his big, strong, sleek form in little rivulets she suddenly wanted to lick off. Broad, tanned shoulders, hard chest tapering to a narrow waist, powerful legs…and what lay between those thighs made her breath catch. “Coming?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Oh, yeah. With any luck, they’d both come.

She needed this, she decided. She deserved it. And afterward, she’d feel better. More relaxed. They could go back to ignoring each other. But damn, he looked good strutting into the deliciously cool water without so much as a wince, never breaking eye contact, until, a few feet from her, he vanished into the water.

With the lack of a moon, she couldn’t see where he was headed, but she wasn’t stupid. Braced and ready, she let out only a cool smile when he surfaced again, slowly, confidently, only a fraction of an inch in front of her.

He shook his hair back. Water ran down his jaw. A jaw she suddenly wanted to touch. Strange, that urge. Sex was a tool and only a tool. A stimulus. A muscle relaxant. A great way to guarantee a good night’s sleep.

Nothing more.

So this urge to be tender bugged the hell out of her. Forget tender. She wanted hard and fast, and then she wanted him gone. To facilitate the matter, she put her arms over his shoulders, letting him do all the work to keep them afloat.

It also slid their bodies in direct contact. Chest to chest, thigh to thigh, and everything in between. And oh, baby, was there a lot in between. Her nipples brushed the light hair on his chest. His legs entangled with hers. And his erection…Mmm, she slid it between her legs, loving the feeling of having him there. He was hot, pulsing. Huge. And it wasn’t easy to keep her eyes open on his, to keep her thoughts straight, when her entire body had melted so that she had no bones left.

“Cassie.” One large hand danced down her spine, cupped her bottom and pressed her against his hot, hard body as he supported her weight. “I’m ready to hear about the restraining order,” he said very quietly, keeping them above water with no apparent effort.

“I…” He had his hand on her ass, his penis between her legs. “Um…” Her heart was pounding dully in her ears. Her nipples had long ago pebbled to hard, needy beads. And between her clenched thighs she was creamy. Rational thought escaped her and he hadn’t done anything yet. “What?”

He let out a slow, knowing smile.

Damn him and his unbearable control. Well, she had enough left to know she had to destroy it. Sinking her fingers into his hair, she shifted even closer so their mouths were just touching. “So. You really want to…” She wrapped her legs around his waist, thrilling to his quickly indrawn breath. “Talk?”

Now both hands held her bottom, hard, his fingers squeezing. She was so close to him they’d melted together. And because she’d spread her legs wide, wrapping them around his waist so satisfactorily, the tip of his penis…oh, yes, nearly slid home.

Nearly. Because he held back. Everything. “You want me?” he asked, his voice rough and serrated, his mouth so close to hers, but not close enough. His hands still gripped her bottom, holding her slightly away, so that his wonderfully hot, hard, huge erection only teased the very center of her universe.

“I think that’s fairly obvious,” she answered.

“Then talk to me.”

“Uh…”

Looking fierce and hot, and so damn sexy she wanted to gobble him up in one bite, he stroked her again. This time his chest lightly brushed her nipples, and she could barely breathe.

“Maybe you skipped the birds and the bees lesson,” she said. “But you should know, talking has little to do with wanting you.”

He looked down at her breasts, two hard, aching points brushing against his chest, and groaned. Slowly he lifted her up a little, dipping his head so he could rub his jaw across the very tips. “Can Pete find you here?”

No, she wouldn’t talk about this, even if he’d forced a pathetic, needy whimper from her throat.

“Cassie?” Another little stroke with his not-so-little penis. Her entire body quivered, dancing on the very edge of an orgasm she wanted with all her heart.

“Can he?” he growled.

She stared down at his mouth, wanting it on hers. At the look, he groaned low and deep. His fingers, still supporting her, glided farther down her backside and dipped between her legs. Unerringly found her flash point.

Unable to help herself, she thrust against him and he groaned again, the sound melding with hers. She’d never had an orgasm without purposeful, calculated thought before, and yet here she was, quivering on the very edge without a thought in her head other than…more, please, more.

They weren’t very far out in the water. Not too far to miss the fact that her cell phone was ringing. She stared at the spot where she’d left it while he stared at her.

“You get a lot of calls?” he asked hoarsely.

“Very few now that I’m off work.” She closed her eyes, then jerked them open when she felt his mouth slide over hers in a far too brief kiss.

Bending his head, he sighed and rubbed his jaw lightly over her breasts, making them both moan again. “Get it,” he said and with one last perfectly aimed stroke with his fingers, gently unwrapped her legs from around him. “It might be important.”

Walking out of the water, feeling him alongside her, Cassie wondered at the amazing control of the man. She wondered how he’d gotten that way, and—

And all else fell from her mind as she scooped up the phone from her towel. She’d missed the call. But the caller had a New York area code that didn’t belong to her agent. And then the phone rang again…same number. “Hello?” she said.

“Hello, Cassie,” said Pete. “I’m here and you’re not.”

Cassie looked up into Tag’s face and felt the blood drain from her own.

6

“YOU HAVEN’T CALLED,” Pete said in a congenial voice. “Even though I know you had some…car trouble before you left. Why didn’t you call, Cassie?”

Very aware that Tag stood less than a foot away, still as gloriously naked as was she, Cassie didn’t say a word. Pete’s voice gave her goose bumps, as did his casual reference to how he’d slashed her tires.

“We’re friends,” he went on. “Friends, Cassie. And we’re so much more than that, too. Did you know I haven’t come to find you, not because I couldn’t, but because I wanted you to come find me?”

His words disturbed her, made her feel sick. She’d liked this man, had let him into her life, and that her instincts had been so far off, so wrong, cut deeply.

“We belong together, you know this,” Pete said in her ear. “We were meant to be. I’m going to make it happen.”

Her skin crawled. “No—”

“Yes.” His voice hardened. “You can’t treat me this way, Cassie, vanishing from my world like this. It’s not okay. Friends don’t do that to one another.”

“Friends.” Suddenly she felt cold, so very cold, and she grabbed for something to cover herself. That it happened to be Tag’s T-shirt didn’t stop her; she shoved it over her wet head and body, then wrapped her free arm around herself. “Funny you use that word. I don’t have any.”

“Cassie.” His voice was low now, conciliatory, quick to soothe. “Just tell me where you are, I can make it all up to you.”

He was insane. And she hadn’t seen it until it had been almost too late. “Don’t call me again, Pete.” She clicked off, tossed the phone down by her sandals, and stared off into the night, telling herself he still had no idea where she was or he’d have come for her by now.

Tag came up beside her. He was still looking at her with his sharp, probing gaze, still naked and apparently unconcerned about that fact. She knew male models, tons of them, and had never seen a man so comfortable in his own skin. He was beautiful, and the way he looked at her…in another place and time she might have been tempted to let herself weaken for him.

Who was she fooling? She had weakened for him, had very nearly trusted him with anything he wanted to do. Good God, what was wrong with her? He was a sheriff, of all things, a man with authority and power over her if he so chose, and more than that, he was his father’s son. No doubt Sheriff Sean Taggart couldn’t be trusted any more than Richard could be, and yet she’d nearly…

He pulled his jeans over his still-wet body but didn’t fasten them. He looked like a Greek god standing there next to her, staring out into the night.

Until he turned to look at her. Those eyes of his weren’t a god’s. They were a cop’s. “Pete.”

“Yes.”

“Another threat?”

“He’s upset because he can’t find me.”

“Well, thank God for small favors.” When she didn’t answer, he sighed, put his hands on her and pulled her close. That her body wanted to be even closer felt like a betrayal. “You’re not going to ask me for help,” he guessed.

“No.”

“Then I’m going to ask you.” He shook her lightly until she locked gazes with him. “Let me help you, Cassie. Please. Let me do this for you.”

“I don’t need—”

“No, you don’t want.” His hands slid up her arms, cupped her face. “You’re independent, I get that. You’re proud. I get that, too. But you’re not stupid. You need help. We’re friends, if nothing else, and—”

“Oh, no.” She let out a short mirthless laugh and backed up. “Not you, too.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What, is the word friend a trigger word for you?”

“I’ll admit, we’re…almost lovers. Sparring partners, maybe. But not friends.” When he stepped close again, she took a shaky breath because her heart suddenly and inexplicably hurt. “We’re not. We’ll never be that.”

She saw surprise flash across his features and, damn it, hurt, too, but that wouldn’t stop her. It was a dog-eat-dog world and she had to stay on top. “A man can’t be a woman’s friend, not—”

“That’s bullshit.”

“—when—” she continued coolly while shaking like a leaf inside. “Not when all he wants is sex.”

He stopped cold, stared at her. She could see the shock in his eyes. Then he pulled away, turned his back.

Oh, yeah, she’d hit the mark that time. He felt guilty as hell, and that should have been tremendously satisfying. But the victory felt hollow.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s nothing personal.”

“Like hell.” But he merely slid his hands into his pockets. “You came back here to Pleasantville to hide. That’s fact. You came here even with bitter childhood memories because you knew one thing…you knew you’d be safe.”

“You don’t know a single truth about my past.”

“I would if you told me.”

She wasn’t going to tell him anything.

“Fine,” he said angrily. “I’ll have to guess then, and you have no one to blame but yourself if I’m wrong.”

“You’ve already heard what I was like.”

“I have.” He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes dark and intense. “But as I’ve already told you, I think the truth is radically different.”

He didn’t believe the gossip. So what did he believe?

“You were right to come here.” He still looked toward the lake. “You’ll be safe. You’ll come to the station and let someone know if you feel Pete has managed to track you.”

“Yes,” she told his sleek, still-wet back. The back she’d wanted to touch, wanted to put her mouth to.

She’d tell him anything if he’d go away and leave her be, with her burning eyes and burning throat. “I’ll come to the station if I need help.”

With one short nod, he bent, scooped up her towel and tossed it to her. He looked at her for a long, long moment, then his lips curved slowly. Solemnly. “Be careful, Cassie.”

And then she was alone. Just as she’d wanted.

* * *

WELL, HELL, Tag thought, stretching out in the hammock in his vast front yard, studying the stars. He’d certainly learned a few things about himself at the lake tonight, hadn’t he. And none of it was anything to be particularly proud of.

First, he’d apparently proven to Cassie that all men were scum. Every one of them. Not that she hadn’t apparently already formed that opinion, but he’d definitely enforced it.

What had come over him? Lust, he admitted. A red haze of lust.

She was being stalked for crissake, and what had he done? He’d stripped down to his birthday suit like a hopeful high school kid and dove into that water without a single thought.

Oh, yeah, he deserved her disdain, every ounce of it. But she hadn’t deserved his momentary lapse in judgment.

Well, he could fix that much at least. On his way back from the lake he’d gone to the station and done what he could for her, not that she’d appreciate it. He’d arranged for drive-bys at her house. He’d alerted his deputies to the possibility of trouble. And he’d put in a request for a copy of the original report and the restraining order.

She wouldn’t thank him, he knew that, but at least he had his head on straight now and wouldn’t be distracted from what he had to do.

He wouldn’t. No matter how glorious she looked nude, swimming like a mermaid beneath the stars, her satiny skin glistening like a feast as she frolicked unselfconsciously. Her body—a mind-blowing study in curves and feminine delights—was perfection, and he’d seen every bit of it tonight. Rock-hard mauve nipples made for sucking. Rounded hips begging for his hands to grip tight. Long, tanned legs, and the treasure in between that had made his mouth water with hunger.

Just the thought could bring him to his knees, so he stopped thinking.

But he didn’t stop dreaming, not that night, and not the next.

He did, however, a few days later, take his weekly phone call from his father, something he would have gladly skipped if he’d only put in Caller ID as he kept meaning to.

“You feeling better?” Tag asked him, knowing his father had been suffering from rheumatory arthritis, and knowing the man would never admit it.

“I’ll live, unfortunately. You keeping the streets clean of stupidity, son?”

Tag let out a silent sigh and rubbed his temples. “What do you think?”

“I think I shouldn’t have retired. Heard Cassie Tremaine Montgomery is back in town. The slut.”

Tag went utterly still. “She left here right after high school. What was she, maybe seventeen? Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

“What do you know about it? You were at college when she left. Trust me. Keep your eye on her.”

That didn’t seem to be a problem. What was a problem was the fact that he wanted to keep more than his eyes on her. He wanted his hands, his mouth and his body on her, as well.

“What’s happening at work?” his father asked.

“The usual,” Tag said. “Just a D.U.I. at the moment.”

“Any ongoing cases?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Sure?”

Tag counted to ten. “Positive.”

“Okay, then. I’ve got to go.”

“Sure. But in case you were wondering, I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine. If you weren’t I’d hear about it. It’s work I want to know about. You’d best be doing a good job, upholding our family name.”

Or what? Tag wondered wearily. He’d swing his authority around like a belt? He rubbed his temples. “I’ll talk to you next week.”

“You haven’t been out to see me.”

Tag hadn’t, that was true. He hadn’t been able to take the hour or so of verbal abuse he’d no doubt have to sit through before being dismissed like a worthless underling.

He bit his tongue on the harsh words he wanted to say. He wouldn’t act like his father. “I’ve got to go, Dad.” Hanging up the phone, he gave in to a brief moment of self-hatred for not telling his father to just go to hell.

Pretty pathetic. Thirty-two years old and he still had a deep desire to have a picture-perfect family life with warm, loving people around him.

Or one loving person. The one he hadn’t found yet—his fantasy wife. The thought made him huff out a mirthless laugh because he was no closer to finding her than he was to really living in Mayberry, U.S.A.

* * *

KATE ARRIVED, and Cassie had to admit she’d never been happier to see anyone in her entire life. Her cousin hadn’t changed at all; she was still the voice of calm reason to Cassie’s wild heart.

Physically, they were opposites as well, and Cassie had always admired Kate’s long, thick dark hair, her perfect heart face, her sweet smile. Although she hated people thinking so, Kate was sweet everything, and being around her calmed Cassie’s restless soul in a way few others could.

On Kate’s first night back in Pleasantville they stayed up late, sitting on the floor of the nearly ready Bare Essentials, gorging on pizza and M&M’s, going over the plans for their grand opening.

Maybe it was the bottle of wine they shared, or maybe it was simply the sheer delight of seeing each other after too long an absence, but they laughed and talked and listened to music until well past midnight.

Cassie had to give her cousin credit. Kate let Cassie keep the conversation safe. Meaning they talked about Kate. Bare Essentials. And gossiped happily about the people in Pleasantville.

Then the clock struck one and Kate’s smile faded as she studied Cassie. “You know I love you, right?”

Ah, hell. “Yep.” In case Kate wanted to talk serious, she cranked up the radio to ear-splitting level.

Kate simply lifted that superior brow Cassie was certain had intimidated hundreds of others. “You could tell me anything,” she yelled over the music. “You know that.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah.” Kate put her hand around her mouth and shouted, “So fine you have purple bruises beneath your eyes.” She flicked the radio off. “Delicate ones, of course, because you’re the only woman I know who could skip makeup and eat junk food for a week and still look amazing. But I know you, Cassie.” She softened her voice and reached for her hand. “Whether you like it or not, I know you’re not okay.”

“Kate—”

“You haven’t asked for your mail.” She reached into her purse and came up with a handful of letters. All addressed to her. All from Pete. “You should be giving these to the local authorities.”

“The authorities here know about him.” Deciding she was done with this conversation, Cassie stood and stretched, and caught sight of a car pulling up out front.

Not just any car, but a police squad car. Damn it.

She tucked Pete’s letters into her purse and turned with her hands on her hips as one tall, dark and sinfully fine-looking Sheriff Sean Taggart entered the building with a casual nonchalance that made her every hormone stand up and quiver.

Take what you can, honey, and spit the rest back out. Cassie thought about what Flo would say and had to admit there wasn’t much to spit back out when it came to Tag.

Not exactly a comfort.

“Fancy you showing up out here,” she drawled slowly though her heart had started racing at just the sight of him. She hadn’t seen him since that night at the lake when he’d stripped down and showed her he was one pretty remarkable male specimen. When she’d accused him of only wanting sex. When she’d nearly succumbed to temptation and let herself lean on someone. Him.

Kate’s head was swiveling as she looked back and forth between the two of them. “I take it you two know each other.”

Tag just stared at Cassie, and she sighed. “Kate, meet Sheriff Sean Taggart. The man who single-handedly tripled my car insurance rates.”

“Well, then.” Kate smiled and held out her hand. “Nice to meet the rare person who can get the best of my cousin.” When Tag nodded, then looked back at Cassie, unmistakable trouble in his gaze, Kate grabbed her purse. “Oka-a-ay. I’m thinking now is a good time to get some shut-eye.”

“Kate—”

“I have a feeling you’re in good hands,” she whispered, then hugged Cassie tight before she vanished.

“You scared her off,” Cassie accused.

“If she’s related to you, she’s no more scared of me than she would be of a kitten,” Tag said evenly.

“Why are you here?”

“Because of the five complaints logged about the volume of your music.”

“I turned it down.” She turned her back. “I’ll behave now. You can go.”

“I’ll just wait while you lock up.”

“Oh, I’m not leaving yet.” She bent to stroke Miss Priss. “I have some stock to go through, and—” She squeaked in surprise when he whipped her around to face him.

“Damn it to hell,” he muttered, staring down into her face.

“Damn what to hell?” she asked, pure frost in her voice.

Her shoulders were stiff in Tag’s hands, but it had just come to him. The problem he’d been stumbling over since she’d strode into town.

Yeah, he wanted her, just as she’d accused. But he also…liked her. More than that, he wanted her to trust him.

She didn’t, not even close, but she would. He was suddenly quite determined about that.

“You know what I think?” he asked her softly. “I think your kick-ass demeanor, as well as the job that’s made you so famous, is all a front.”

She stared at him as if he was crazy. “What?”

“Beneath all that wild sensuality and come-hither smile designed to make grown men beg, you’re all talk.”

“Excuse me?”

“You just stroked the cat. I saw you.”

“So?”

“So you claim to hate that cat. You claim to hate this town, and yet here you still are. Oh, yeah, I’m on to something all right. You’re not nearly as untamed and uncaring as you want people to believe, not even close.” Sure of himself, he smiled. “In fact, you’re just one great big fraud.”

She let out a disbelieving laugh. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m as out there as they come, just ask anyone.”

“Not buying it. You’re all talk, Cassie Tremaine Montgomery. All talk.”

“You think so?” She grabbed a box off a shelf, tossed it to the floor, then kneeled down to riffle through it. “I’ll show you talk.” She lifted a set of handcuffs. “I have a set of these in my bedroom. Waiting for the right evening, the right lover.”

He nearly swallowed his tongue, and instead lifted a shoulder. “So what? I have a pair on me all day long.”

A sound of frustration passed her kissable lips as she tossed the handcuffs over her shoulder and pawed through the box again. With a cry of triumph, she help up a small plastic package holding…

He gulped hard.

“A clit ring,” she said. “I have one of these, too.”

“Are…you wearing it now?”

Her triumph faded, and with a growl she tossed it over her shoulder to fall next to the discarded handcuffs, leaving him to give a silent thanks because he doubted he could have handled remaining so calm, cool and collected if she’d showed him a clit ring.

On her clit.

Just the thought made him break a sweat.

Cassie dove back into the box, and this time came up with a small white leather pack and a smile that went right to his crotch.

Lord help him, he’d opened Pandora’s box.

“Know what this is?” she asked in a sultry voice. “A portable vibrator. For the woman on the go. It fits into a pocket or small purse.”

Oh, man. He leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms and forced himself to yawn. She would not goad him into a physical relationship, not when she still believed he wanted her only for sex. Nope. He wouldn’t touch her.

At his feigned boredom, she sputtered. “You think I wouldn’t use this to make myself come?”

He just lifted a brow.

Still on her knees, she shot him a look of pure daring, which in truth started his heart pumping, even before she lifted her denim skirt, revealing a tiny patch of red satin masquerading as panties. Pulling out the small white vibrator, she turned it on, smiled the very smile of the devil, and ran it over her thigh before settling it directly between her legs.

“Mmm,” she whispered, letting her head fall back on her shoulders. Her eyes closed as she slowly moved the vibrator up and down and back again.

Her breath came quicker, and so did his. “Cassie—”

“Shh.” Her hips started pumping in tune to her hand.

His own hands fisted.

“God. This is so much better than a fumbling man.”

He’d show her fumbling.

“Oh, yeah…” The vibrator hummed. Her hand moved faster.

She moaned softly.

Up and down.

The red satin became wet, he could see it.

And Tag nearly sank to the floor. “Cassie—”

Her mouth fell open, her tongue came out and wet her lips. Her breath caught and she went still, so utterly still…then shuddered as she let out a little helpless cry, lost in her own pleasure.

Tag didn’t move a muscle, he couldn’t.

After a moment she opened sleepy, sated eyes and smiled. “Definitely much better than a man.” With a click she turned off the vibrator and let her skirt fall back down.

Before she could riffle through the box again, his brain started functioning, barely, and he came forward. “Uncle,” he said hoarsely, hauling her to her feet. “I get it. You’re not all talk. And you’re killing me. Lock up, you’re going home.”

“I suppose you think you’re going to tuck me in and sing me a lullaby.”

“No. You’re going home alone.”

“Suit yourself.”

No mistaking her anger that he hadn’t fallen at her feet in a boneless mass of need, but no one had ever wanted her for anything besides sex, and he refused to fit into the same mold as all the other assholes in her life.

“Got your keys?” he asked calmly, as if he couldn’t have hammered steel with his raging erection.

She pocketed the vibrator and shot him a long look, definitely noticing the problem behind his zipper. “I have my keys.” She patted the vibrator. “In fact, I have everything I need, thank you very much.”

Fine. She was pissed at him, nothing new. But it was satisfying, despite the burning need of his body, to see the shock in her eyes that he wasn’t going to try to get into her very wet panties.

And he would hold firm. At least for tonight.

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