She had a monster headache and her ears were ringing from the explosion.

Lindsey sat on the examining table, her bare legs dangling beneath the short hem of the hospital gown. Dan stood beside her, where he’d been almost the entire time since she’d arrived. It had been a near miracle that neither she nor anyone else was seriously injured.

Finally the doctors allowed Dan to drive her home. Reluctantly listening to his orders and taking her medicine, she said, “There. Are you happy?”

He gently lifted a hand to the bandage on her forehead. “How can you even ask me that when you look like this?”

A wave of warmth flooded through her, making her knees weak. It was hard to be sensible and levelheaded when he said things like that. When he looked at her that way.

Then he abruptly stepped back. “Now, get into bed. You need to rest.”

“Fine.” She surrendered with a yawn. Lindsey just wished she knew exactly what lay behind Dan’s tender solicitations. Friendship—or more?

Dear Reader,

Silhouette Books publishes many stars in romance fiction, but now we want to make you a star! Tell us in 500 words or less how Silhouette makes love come alive for you. Look inside for details of our “Silhouette Makes You A Star” contest—you could win a luxurious weekend in New York!

Reader favorite Gina Wilkins’s love comes alive year after year with over sixty Harlequin and Silhouette romances to her credit. Though her first two manuscripts were rejected, she pursued her goal of becoming a writer. And she has this advice to offer to aspiring authors: “First, read everything you can, not just from the romance genre. Study pacing and characterization,” Gina says. “Then, forget everything you’ve read and create something that is your own. Never imitate.” Gina’s Bachelor Cop Finally Caught? is available this month. When a small-town reporter is guilty of loving the police chief from afar and then tries to make a quick getaway, will the busy chief be too busy with the law to notice love?

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Enjoy this month’s lineup. And don’t forget to look inside for exciting details of the “Silhouette Makes You A Star” contest.

Best,

Karen Taylor Richman,

Senior Editor

Bachelor Cop Finally Caught?
Gina Wilkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Sally, still crazy after all these years.

GINA WILKINS

is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than fifty books for Harlequin and Silhouette. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.

A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms. Wilkins sold her first book to Harlequin in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks, B. Dalton and USA Today bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of the Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of Romantic Times Magazine.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

Twenty-six candles blazed on the birthday cake in front of Lindsey. A roomful of people crowded around the table at her friend Serena’s to watch her blow them out. All too aware of the one person who wasn’t there—Dan Meadows—she drew in a deep breath and efficiently extinguished all the tiny flames. Her audience applauded enthusiastically.

“Happy birthday, Lindsey.” Serena Schaffer North, the party’s hostess, gave her friend a quick hug as she spoke.

Lindsey responded warmly. “Thank you. It’s a great party, Serena.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Visibly satisfied, Serena cast a quick glance around the roomful of chattering, laughing guests. “I’m so glad everyone could make it.”

Not everyone, Lindsey couldn’t help thinking.

As if she’d developed a sudden, disconcerting talent for mind reading, Serena said, “I wish Dan was here. He said he would try.”

“He’s probably out beating the bushes for clues about the firebug.”

“Probably.” With a frown, Serena shook her head. “I hope he catches the guy soon. Dan’s starting to look so stressed lately. Frankly, I think he needs a vacation.”

“So do I.” Lindsey remembered the lines that were slowly carving themselves around Dan’s eyes and mouth. Dan needed more in his life than his work. He needed a reason to go home at night.

So did she.

Serena’s husband of almost three months, Cameron North—Lindsey’s boss and editor at the newspaper—joined them just then, sliding his arm around his wife’s waist. “Aren’t you going to have any of your own birthday cake, Lindsey? You’d better hurry or those vultures will eat it all up before you get any.”

“Someone will save me a slice.” Not particularly concerned about the cake, Lindsey studied the quiet contentment on the faces of the couple in front of her.

Serena and Cameron had met under extraordinary circumstances—she’d found him lying on the side of a road, beaten half to death, with no memory of who he was or how he’d gotten there. Just about five months later they were married. Cameron had recovered most of his memories of his past, but he had told Lindsey without embarrassment that, as far as he was concerned, his life hadn’t really begun until he’d awoken in a hospital room to find Serena leaning over him.

Though she’d teased him about being a sentimental softie, Lindsey had actually been touched by Cameron’s confession. She’d also been aware of a ripple of envy. Serena and Cam had known so quickly that they were right for each other. How could it have been that easy?

Okay, so she knew it hadn’t been that easy. She had seen the way Serena suffered during the weeks that Cameron had gone back to Texas to rediscover his past, before he’d come to the realization that this was where he wanted to spend his future. But it certainly hadn’t taken him twenty years to learn to appreciate what had been right in front of him.

Determined not to waste any more of her birthday moping over Dan, she pasted on a bright smile and playfully demanded that someone bring her a slice of her birthday cake. She laughed when at least six people immediately thrust plates of cake in front of her. She had lots of friends, she reminded herself. A job she enjoyed. The freedom to pursue her dreams wherever they led her. And if the romantic dream that had led her back here wasn’t meant to be—well, she’d find a new dream somewhere else.

Twenty years was long enough to invest in a fantasy that she was beginning to believe was never meant to come true.

The following morning, as she did on the rare Saturday mornings when she wasn’t working, Lindsey made a haphazard attempt at housework, zipping through the house in which she’d grown up, a dust cloth in one hand and a broom in the other. She’d inherited the three-bedroom house three months ago, when her father had passed away after a lengthy illness. He’d died on the Monday after New Year’s Day, a sad holiday this year—just as Christmas had been, since he’d been becoming weaker and weaker. Lindsey’s many friends in Edstown had made sure she’d spent little time alone during the holidays.

Her older brother, B.J., a career military man, had insisted that the house should be Lindsey’s as she’d spent the past two years living there and taking care of their father. Even though she’d argued that she’d done so only because she wanted to, B.J. had refused to accept part ownership of the house, settling, instead, for a portion of the modest insurance settlement.

During the past couple of weeks, Lindsey had been thinking about putting the house on the market. When it sold, she would insist that B.J. accept part of the proceeds. She could take a job in a bigger market— Little Rock, Atlanta, maybe Dallas—where she could start a new life. She had the credentials, the ambition, a few connections. There was nothing holding her here now.

Nothing at all, she thought with a wistful little sigh.

Her doorbell rang just as she finished running the vacuum cleaner in the living room. Glancing down, she wrinkled her nose at her appearance. Oversize green T-shirt, baggy denim shorts, fuzzy purple house shoes. Her hair stood in messy red spikes around her smudged face. She looked like an orphan from the cast of Annie, she thought with a shake of her head. Hoping her caller was a salesperson or a close pal rather than her minister or the mayor’s wife—neither of whom she was expecting—she opened the door.

As it had for the better part of twenty years, her heart tripped when she saw Dan Meadows on her doorstep. As she had since she’d gotten old enough to understand the meaning of the word “pride,” she hid her reaction behind an impudent grin. “Well, hey, Chief. Whazzup?”

Dressed in an oatmeal-colored cotton sweater and a pair of faded jeans, he eyed her skimpy attire. “Lose your calendar? It’s the first week of March, not the middle of summer.”

“I’ve been cleaning,” she said with a shrug.

“Ah. That explains your new perfume. I thought you’d switched to Eau d’Pine.”

Wrinkling her nose in response to the bad joke, she opened the door wider and motioned for him to enter. “Since the place is clean, you might as well come in.”

“How could I resist that gracious invitation?” Pulling his right hand from behind his back, he handed her a wrapped package as he passed her. “Happy birthday, Lindsey. Sorry it’s a day late.”

Kicking the door closed behind him, she studied the pretty paper and the jaunty bow. “No way you wrapped that. It’s too pretty.”

“You’re right. I had it wrapped at the store.”

“It’s almost too fancy to open.”

He grinned. “What makes you think there’s anything inside? Maybe the pretty package is all I got you.”

“And maybe you’re full of hot air.”

Laughing, he ruffled her hair—exactly the way he had when she was a kid tagging at his and her brother’s heels. His nine-inch advantage over her five-foot-three height made it even easier for him to treat her like a kid. “Just open the present, princess.”

His use of the childhood nickname made it difficult for her to keep her smile in place. “Yeah. Sure.”

With the ease of someone who’d spent a lot of time in this house during the past twenty years, Dan settled on the couch, an arm draped across the back, his legs stretched in front of him. His chestnut hair tumbled over his forehead, ending in a fringe just over his dark brown eyes. He looked tired, and there was a slight touch of gray at his temples now, but Lindsey could still see traces of the handsome teenager he’d been in the roughly good-looking man he had become.

She sat in a nearby chair, the gift in her lap. Though she usually ripped into her presents at light speed, she opened this one with excruciating slowness—just because she knew it would drive Dan crazy.

“You’re going to have another birthday before you get into that,” he complained, as she’d known he would.

“I want to savor the moment. You’re usually giving me grief instead of presents.”

“I give you grief? You’re the gung-ho reporter who stays on my heels all the time looking for a hot lead—as if there’s all that much to report in Edstown.”

“Just doing my job, Chief.”

“Yeah, well, you sure as hell make it tough for me to do mine sometimes.”

Because this was an old and generally unproductive argument, Lindsey let the comment pass as she peeled the last bit of paper away from the box. A moment later she swallowed a lump in her throat so she could say, “Dan, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

His smile was just a bit smug. “Do I know what you like or what?”

Yes, he knew what she liked—when she was twelve. She had collected unicorn figurines from the time she was a little girl until she’d gone off to college. Her room had been filled with them, the walls covered with unicorn posters. Now Dan had bought her a blown-glass unicorn for her twenty-sixth birthday. Somehow he’d completely missed the fact that she was no longer the little girl he’d known so long ago.

Her heart aching, she set the unicorn—a perfect symbol for hopeless fantasies, she reflected glumly—on the coffee table. “Have you had lunch? I was just about to eat.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m starved. What’ve you got?”

“Sandwiches.”

“Just what I had a craving for,” he drawled.

With a weak laugh, Lindsey led the way into the kitchen. They spent the next half hour munching ham-and-Swiss-on-rye sandwiches, pickle spears, and raw vegetables with ranch dip. During the casual meal, they talked about her brother—Dan’s best friend since adolescence—and their mutual friends in Edstown. She asked about his parents, who were, as usual, spending the winter at an RV park in southern Texas; he assured her they were fine, that he’d spoken to them only the day before.

There were a couple of subjects they carefully avoided, such as the arsonist who’d been eluding the local authorities. And then there was the one topic neither of them ever mentioned—Dan’s bitterly unpleasant divorce two and a half years ago, barely six months before Lindsey had moved back to take care of her father. Even if Lindsey had wanted to bring up his marriage debacle—which she didn’t—Dan would not have cooperated. He’d forbidden everyone to even mention his ex-wife’s name in his presence.

“So, anyway, the noise Mrs. Treadway reported hearing outside her window was nothing more than a broken tree branch tapping against the glass. Unfortunately, by the time we managed to find that out, Jack and I were wet to the bone, covered in mud, half-frozen, and we’d narrowly escaped being midnight snacks for Mrs. Treadway’s rottweiler.”

Lindsey winced even as she laughed at Dan’s wryly told anecdote. “So you had a close encounter with Baby, did you?”

He all but shuddered. “Baby missed biting me in a very sensitive area by an extremely narrow margin. I swear I felt his hot breath right on my—”

“I get the picture,” Lindsey said quickly. There were some mental images she wasn’t prepared to deal with right now—Dan’s “sensitive areas” among them. “Baby’s not as bad as he pretends to be. Around Mrs. Treadway, he’s just a big, dopey puppy.”

“Yeah, well, thanks to Baby I almost had to switch from the bass section of the church choir to the soprano section.”

She smiled and nodded toward his empty plate. “Would you like anything else to eat? I have some leftover birthday cake that Serena insisted I bring home.”

“Cake sounds good, if you have an extra slice.”

“I have plenty,” she assured him and rose to cut him a piece.

“I’m sorry I had to miss your party. I got tied up at the station and didn’t get away until after eleven.”

“Which explains the dark circles under your eyes.” She studied his face as she set the dessert plate in front of him. “You aren’t getting enough rest lately, Dan. Serena thinks you need a vacation.”

“She does, does she?”

“When’s the last time you took more than twenty-four hours off?”

He shrugged. “It’s been a while,” he admitted. “But I won’t be taking a vacation anytime soon—not with some crackpot trying to burn down every building in the damned town.”

“He usually waits a few weeks between hits. You should have time to take a break while the other investigators pursue leads.”

“That’s the thing—we have no leads,” Dan growled. “The guy’s slick, I’ll give him that. He’s not leaving clues.”

“He’ll screw up—and when he does, you’ll catch him.”

“Yeah, but that means he’ll have to strike again first. We’ve had one death because of this guy so far. I don’t want anyone else endangered, including our firefighters.”

“You’ll catch him,” Lindsey predicted again.

“Damn straight. But not if I’m off on a vacation. Besides, who takes vacations this time of year?”

“People who are tired and need a rest?”

Dan only shrugged and filled his mouth with another forkful of cake.

“This has been nice,” he said a few minutes later, when his plate had been cleaned and the last sip of iced tea drained. “You and I haven’t had a chance to sit down and talk much lately—not without you holding a notebook in your hand, anyway.”

“No. You’ve been so busy we’ve hardly seen each other since B.J. was home for Dad’s funeral.”

The mention of her late father made Dan’s smile dim a little. “So, you’ve been doing okay? Living here by yourself, I mean.”

“I’m fine,” she answered gently. “I miss my dad, of course, but he was so ill and so debilitated that I knew he was ready to go. And I’ve been on my own before, you know. I lived alone for three years before I moved back two years ago to take care of Dad.”

“You let me know if you need anything, you hear? I promised B.J. I’d keep an eye on you.”

Her teeth gritted. “Thanks, but I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“Of course you are.” He glanced at his watch, which kept him from seeing the way her brows dipped in response to his slightly patronizing tone. “As much as I’ve enjoyed this, I’ve got to go. I have things to do at the station.”

She walked with him to the door. “Try to go home at a reasonable hour tonight,” she advised him. “You won’t be doing anyone any good if you collapse from exhaustion.”

He chuckled and reached out to ruffle her hair again. “You sound just like my sister.”

“Well, I’m not your sister, and if you do that to my hair one more time, I’m going to sink my teeth into your hand.”

The snarled threat only made him laugh. “Now you really sound like my sister.”

Clenching her teeth tightly together, she opened the door, then forced herself to say pleasantly, “Bye, Dan. Thank you again for the birthday present.”

“You’re welcome.”

Some impulse made her speak, just as Dan started down the front steps. “I’m thinking about selling the house.”

He stopped and turned to look at her in obvious surprise. “No kidding? Why? Is it too much for you to keep up?”

“No. I can handle the maintenance. I’m considering looking for a job in a bigger city. Dallas or Atlanta, maybe.”

“Oh.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking as though he didn’t quite know how to respond. “Well…I can see where you’d have better career prospects in a bigger market, but…you’d be missed here.”

She noted that he didn’t say who would be missing her if she left. “I haven’t really made a final decision yet. I’m just mulling it over.”

“I see. Well, you do what you think is best for your future. I’ve gotta go, okay? See you around.”

“Yeah.” Lindsey leaned against the doorjamb and watched him climb into his car. “See you around, Dan.”

Sometime later she carried the unicorn into her bedroom and set it on the dresser. Her childhood collection had been packed away since she’d left home for college—not that Dan would know that. It had been years since he’d seen the inside of her bedroom.

He probably still pictured ruffles and teddy bears, she thought glumly.

Stupid man.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror attached to one of her closet doors. A low groan escaped her as she studied the grubby clothes that dwarfed her petite figure, and the fuzzy house shoes that would have looked more at home at a teen slumber party. She ran a hand over her spiky hair and glared at the smudge of dust on her unpainted cheek.

“No wonder he still thinks I’m twelve,” she muttered. She winced when she remembered his ex-wife, with her perfect hair, perfect face, perfect teeth, perfect breasts. Lindsey turned sideways and poked out her chest, eyeing the results in the mirror. “Pitiful,” she grumbled. “Just pitiful.”

She mentally replayed the way she’d bantered with Dan, swapping put-downs and bad jokes, pretty much the way she and her brother carried on when he was home. When they met on a professional basis, she and Dan usually ended up yelling at each other—and she’d admit that she usually started it. Maybe it was just a teensy bit her fault that he hadn’t seen her as a sexy, desirable woman.

If she gave up now and moved away, putting her dreams behind her, would she always regret not giving it one more try? She’d never been a quitter, and had never been hesitant to go after something she wanted—except for Dan. What did she have to lose—except her dignity, her pride and her ego?

The grubby woman in the mirror suddenly looked a little pale, but there was a new look of determination in her green eyes.

Dan Meadows was about to find himself with a brand-new problem on his hands.

Chapter Two

“What are you doing here already?” Dan’s secretary said, glaring at him from his office doorway.

He looked up from the paperwork littering his desk and said, “Excuse me?”

“I heard you didn’t leave here until after ten last night. Now here it is not even eight in the morning and you’re already at it again.” Hazel Sumners shook her head in exasperation. “You are not Superman, Dan Meadows. You need rest.”

He heaved a gusty sigh. “I’ll have you know I got nearly eight hours’ sleep last night. That’s plenty of rest for a grown man.”

“Rest involves more than a few hours of sleep,” she scolded. “How about leisure time? You know—fun? You didn’t even take time off for Lindsey’s birthday party Friday night.”

“I saw Lindsey on Saturday,” he retorted. “I didn’t totally ignore her birthday.”

“That isn’t the point. You should have been at that party having a good time with your friends. You should have taken off Saturday afternoon to go fishing with Cameron, and a few hours yesterday for church and a nice Sunday dinner somewhere. But what did you do? You worked, except for having a quick sandwich with Lindsey.”

“How did you—”

“I saw Lindsey at church yesterday morning, and I asked her if she’d seen you during the weekend. She told me you popped in to tell her happy birthday and then came right back to the office.”

“Do you ask everyone about my business, or just a select few?” He kept his tone mild, but he couldn’t help being a bit annoyed that Hazel had been monitoring his actions so closely. Her job was to keep up with his work schedule, not his personal life.

“Your friends are worried about you, Dan—and so are your co-workers. You’re working too long and too hard, and if you don’t slow down you’re going to crash just as hard.”

It was with some effort that he held on to his patience. “I’ll take some time off as soon as we catch whoever has been setting fires around here.”

Still scowling, she shook her spray-stiffened, salt-and-pepper head. “This is just like those break-ins that took all your time last summer. You said that as soon as you solved those, you’d take a vacation. But Delbert Farley’s been in jail for weeks now and you’re still working just as hard as ever. Catch this firebug and something else will come up. And before you know it, your whole life will have passed you by.”

“Thank you so much for that cheery prediction. Now perhaps you could go answer the phone before it rings right off your desk?”

She turned and stalked away, mumbling something about foolish, stubborn men.

Unable to resist the cliché, Dan shook his head and muttered, “Women.”

What was going on with them these days, anyway? Lately it was either his secretary ragging him about his working hours, or his women friends nagging him to take a vacation. Concerned grandmas complaining about the blessedly few serious crimes that took place in Edstown, or his sister calling him to fuss about not making enough time for his family. Not to mention Lindsey—nipping around his heels one minute for every detail about his ongoing investigations…and then announcing out of the blue that she was considering moving away.

What was she thinking? Sure, she’d managed well enough in Little Rock for a couple of years before she’d moved back here. But she was a small-town girl at heart, not one of those tough, big-city reporters. And frankly he wouldn’t want to see her turn into one.

Not that she cared about that, of course. She hadn’t asked for his opinion. She’d simply stated that she was thinking about putting her house up for sale. It was actually none of his business—even if he had promised her brother that he would keep an eye on her now that their father had passed away.

He’d known even as he’d made the promise that it was only a formality. Though ten years younger than Dan and B.J., Lindsey was still a grown woman, fully capable of making her own decisions. If she chose to move to Dallas or Atlanta—or Antarctica, for that matter—there was little anyone could do to stop her. Certainly not someone who was nothing more to her than a long-time friend of her older brother.

Oddly enough, considering how often Dan complained about her hanging around so much in her professional capacity, he would miss her if she moved away.

Forcing his concentration back to his work, he glanced at the files littering his desk. They contained summaries of the fires that had been set around town—starting with the old dairy barn last summer. A few weeks after that, a recently vacated rent house had burned, under strikingly similar conditions. An old garage a few weeks after that. And then the tragic cabin fire—the one in which Truman Kellogg had died.

Kellogg had been asleep when the fire started and he’d died in his bed—probably never woke up, mercifully. None of the other suspicious fires had involved buildings that were occupied. Of course, there was the possibility that the arsonist hadn’t known anyone was there: Truman had rarely visited his vacation cabin and then usually only during summer months.

There had been other details about that fire that differed from the others, but it was hard not to be suspicious about it, considering everything that had been going on in the past few months. Neither Dan nor the fire chief had ruled out arson in Kellogg’s death, though they had no proof that the fire had been deliberately set—not like the others, in which there were obvious signs of arson yet no clue about the arsonist.

There’d been a long gap between that fire and the next one—the abandoned warehouse last week. Long enough that people had begun to hope the fires had ended. At least no one had died in the latest fire. Dan was determined to catch the guy before anyone else died.

“Chief?” Hazel’s voice came through the desk intercom, her clipped tone letting him know she was still annoyed with him. “The mayor’s on line one.”

Dan reached for the phone, knowing that this caller wouldn’t be nagging him about taking a vacation. The mayor would be quite content for Dan to work twenty-four hours a day if it meant putting a quick and quiet end to this increasingly troublesome arson problem.

“Do something with it.”

In response to the reckless order, Paula Campbell put her hands on her ample hips and studied Lindsey curiously. “And just what would you have me do with it?”

Eyeing her reflection in the beauty-shop mirror, Lindsey shrugged. “I don’t know. Cut it. Curl it. Fluff it. Just do something so I don’t look like a twelve-year-old boy.”

Paula chuckled and reached for a towel and a cape. “No one would mistake you for a boy. Not with those pretty, big green eyes of yours—or that perfect skin. But if you want a softer look than that shaggy style you’ve worn for so long, we can certainly take care of that. You want to flip through some style books?”

“No. I trust you to know what looks good. Just make it a style I can maintain without a lot of fussing, okay?”

“You got it.” Intrigued by the challenge Lindsey had just presented, Paula set to work with enthusiasm. “What’s inspired this makeover, anyway? Someone you’re trying to impress? Some male?”

Painfully aware of the women listening openly from the three other stations in the four-operator salon, Lindsey responded with a laugh that she hoped was credibly casual and derisive. “Yeah, sure, I’m hoping Brad Pitt will leave his wife and find me on the streets of Edstown. Can’t a woman change her hairstyle without being accused of trying to catch a man? I’ve just had a birthday—isn’t that reason enough to want to make a change?”

“Well, sure—especially a momentous birthday like thirty or forty or fifty. But you just turned twenty-six, not exactly one of those numbers that usually send women running for a makeover or a facelift. So I figured it must be a guy.”

“Too bad your new boss is already taken, heh, Lindsey? That Cameron North is one fine-looking man,” the woman being tinted and permed in the next chair murmured.

Lindsey smiled. “He’s definitely good-looking—and definitely taken. He and Serena are the most blissful newlyweds I’ve ever been around.”

Lila Forsythe sighed wistfully from beneath her helmet of hair rollers. “Their story is so romantic. The way she saved his life—the way he fell in love with her before he even recovered his memories. Serena’s mother thinks it was love at first sight, you know. That’s why she wasn’t worried that they got married so quickly.”

“Love at first sight.” Paula snorted as she spun Lindsey’s chair around so she could lower her to the sink for a hair washing. “I’ve hardly ever seen it work out. Maybe Serena and Cameron will be the exception.”

Lindsey kept her mouth shut. She had no intention of confessing that her own experience with love at first sight had lasted twenty years and counting. She could just imagine Paula’s response to that scenario.

She only half believed it, herself. Maybe she was just in the habit of being in love with Dan Meadows, rather than actually in love with him. But if she left town without at least trying to find out for sure, she suspected that the question would haunt the back of her mind for the rest of her life.

Dan thought of Lindsey again during lunch, which consisted of a deli sandwich at his desk. Hazel had brought him the sandwich when she returned from her own lunch break, and had then spent five minutes lecturing him about his work habits before he’d sent her away so he could eat in peace.

He’d spent the past two hours in an intensive meeting with the fire chief and two arson investigators from Little Rock. A pile of new notes littered his desk now, but the meeting had actually accomplished very little. The consultants had looked over every scrap of evidence on the Edstown fires, including a long visit to the most recent crime scene, but the conclusions they’d drawn hadn’t been much different from what Dan and Fire Chief John Ford had already figured out. Someone around here was deliberately setting fires and covering his tracks so well there was no way to tell who he was. Yet.

Pushing a hand through his brown hair—which felt shaggy to him, reminding him he needed to make time for a cut—he wondered how long it would take Lindsey to come snooping around in an attempt to find out everything that had been said in the meeting. He’d have to be suitably vague—resulting, he hoped, in an article that the locals would find reassuring. He was sure they’d be glad to know that arson experts had been consulted—he just wouldn’t tell them the experts hadn’t provided much assistance so far.

Sure enough, it was less than an hour later when Hazel buzzed him. “Got a reporter here from the Evening Star, Chief. Are you in?”

Hearing the dry humor in her voice, he knew the reporter was aware that Dan was in. He could still say no, of course. But he might as well get this over with. “Yeah, Hazel, send her in.”

He pushed his hand through his hair again and made a halfhearted effort to straighten his desk, making sure no confidential paperwork was visible. He wouldn’t put it past Lindsey to snoop through them when he wasn’t paying close attention.

But it wasn’t Lindsey who ambled into his office a couple of minutes later. This was a man—young, tall, lanky-limbed, a lazy smile gracing his squarish face and reflecting in his cool-gray eyes.

“Well, hey, Riley,” Dan drawled, telling himself he wasn’t really disappointed that it wasn’t Lindsey. One reporter was just like another one, he assured himself. “Is Lindsey busy bugging the fire chief? The mayor, maybe?”

“Lindsey took the day off.” Riley O’Neal arranged himself loosely in one of the chairs on the other side of Dan’s desk. “Cam sent me to find out if there are any leads on the arson story.”

“Lindsey took the day off?” Dan repeated, surprised. “Is she sick?”

“Not as far as I know. Some people have lives outside their jobs, you know.”

The barb was delivered with a grin. Like everyone else in Edstown, Riley was well aware of the police chief’s workaholic tendencies—although it was hardly a trait Riley shared. Riley’s philosophy was to do exactly as much work as necessary to survive, and to spend the rest of his time taking it easy.

Thirty years old, Riley had been working on a novel—or claimed to have been—since he’d graduated from college. He hadn’t grown up in Edstown, but his maternal grandparents had lived here, as did a favorite uncle who still maintained a home here. Riley had visited often enough as a boy that nearly everyone knew him even before he took the job with the local newspaper. He asserted that he liked the slower pace of small town life. Made it easier for him to find time to write, he’d explained.

Dan had always considered Riley a bit of an eccentric, a borderline loner, and a wiseass to boot—but for all of that, he rather liked him. Besides, Riley wasn’t nearly as pushy a reporter as Lindsey was, which made it easier to deal with him when Dan wasn’t in the mood to cooperate with the press.

So there was no reason at all to be disappointed that Riley had shown up when Dan had been expecting Lindsey. After all, if Lindsey moved away, Dan would have to get used to working with other reporters from the local paper.

He would miss her, he realized again, even as he answered Riley’s questions about the arson investigation. Lindsey was practically family to him. So it made perfect sense that the thought of no longer having her in his life left a rather hollow feeling inside him.

“So you’re no closer now to solving these arsons than you were a month ago?” Riley asked, his pen poised over the battered, reporter’s notebook he’d pulled from his jacket pocket. “And have the charges officially been upgraded to murder since Truman Kellogg died in that fire two months ago?”

Deciding he’d better concentrate on his answers before he slipped up and said something stupid, Dan pushed thoughts of Lindsey to the back of his mind and gave his full attention to Riley, reminding him that there was no proof yet that the Kellogg fire was linked to the others. Riley would let him get away with that—Lindsey would have kept pushing. Dan couldn’t help smiling wryly at the thought…and realizing again that he would miss her when—if—she left.

Holding the tip of her tongue between her teeth, Lindsey leaned close to the lit makeup mirror, an eyeliner gripped in her right hand. She swore when her hand twitched, smearing liner across her right cheek. “I can’t do this.”

Connie Peterson laughed and handed Lindsey a moistened makeup-remover pad. “Of course you can do it. It just takes a little practice—something most women do before they reach your age, by the way.”

Lindsey scowled, making it more difficult to remove the smudge. “I haven’t had time to mess with makeup. I’ve just slapped on mascara and blusher and lip gloss, and that always seemed like enough.”

“So why have you decided to change that now?” the makeup consultant, whom Lindsey had known since high school, asked curiously.

“Oh, you know…getting older. Trying not to show it.” Lindsey hoped her answer was suitably vague and believable.

Connie’s laugh came perilously close to a snort. “Yeah, right. You hardly look old enough to drive legally. I bet you still get carded every time you order a drink.”

Keeping her eyes fixed on the mirror, Lindsey painstakingly followed the directions Connie had given her for applying the eyeliner. The effort was a bit more successful this time. “So maybe I’d like to look my age.”

“It’s a guy, isn’t it?”

Lindsey’s hand jerked again, resulting in a matching liner smudge on her other cheek. She reached for the remover again. “Why does everyone assume I’m changing my appearance for a guy?”

“Because we’ve all done it,” Connie replied with a smirk. “You’ve got a great new hairstyle, and now you’re investing in war paint. Definitely a guy.”

“You’ve changed your appearance to try to attract a guy?” Lindsey eyed the brown-haired, brown-eyed woman curiously. Attractive and extroverted, Connie had always seemed so comfortable around men, always having a date for local events, and rumored to have bruised a few hearts during the years. Lately she’d been deeply involved with a man from a neighboring town, and there was broad speculation that this time it was starting to look permanent.

“Oh, sure. Remember when I tried bleaching my hair my senior year in high school? Major mistake—but I did it because Curtis Hooper said he liked blondes.”

Lindsey couldn’t help laughing. “Curtis Hooper? No kidding? I didn’t know you ever had a thing for Curtis.”

“Yeah, well, how was I to know he meant he liked blond men?” Connie shook her head in self-derision. “He really was cute. But maybe I should have gotten a clue, when the only thing he and I really had in common was that we both enjoyed putting on makeup?”

“You think?” The shared humor relaxing her, Lindsey decided Connie’s feminine insight might come in handy, as long as Lindsey was careful about how she worded her questions. “So, have you ever seen it work? A woman changing her appearance to get a man’s attention, I mean.”

“Oh, sure. Lots of times. A guy gets used to seeing someone a certain way, you know? Then when she makes a change, he starts looking at her in a different way—sometimes as if for the first time.”

Which, of course, was exactly what Lindsey was hoping for, though she had no intention of admitting that at the moment. “It doesn’t seem…well, a little desperate to you?”

Connie laughed. “Heck, no. Sometimes you just gotta hit ’em over the head, girl. Men just don’t get subtlety.”

“I heard that,” Lindsey muttered with a sigh, remembering all the subtle messages she’d sent Dan in past months. Messages that had apparently gone right past his thick male head.

“I don’t suppose you want to tell me who it is you’re trying to catch?”

Lindsey shook her head and answered gruffly. “Never mind about my reasons. Just teach me how to use this war paint, will you?”

“That’s my job.” Connie reached cheerfully for a mascara wand. “By the time I get through with you, you’re going to knock that guy—whoever he is—right off his feet.”

Lindsey was beginning to believe this entire day had been an exercise in humiliation. But she wasn’t a quitter. She’d started this, she might as well finish it. “What color lip liner should I use? And why the heck do my lips need lining, anyway?”

At six o’clock Friday evening Dan was helping two of his officers subdue a couple of angry and belligerent drunks in the parking lot at Gaylord’s, a bar-and-Cajun-food establishment on the seamier side of town. It was earlier than usual for this type of altercation. He’d gotten in on it only because he often dined at Gaylord’s on Fridays, and he had arrived just in time to see a drunk take a swing at one of his officers. His presence signaled a quick end to the commotion, and he watched in satisfaction as the two brawlers were subdued and hauled away.

He was greeted the moment he walked into Gaylord’s by the burly owner who worked behind the bar. “Hey, Chief, how you doing?” Chuck shouted over the manic zydeco music blaring from numerous speakers.

“Fine, thanks, Chuck. How’s the gumbo tonight?”

“Same’s always. Best you ever put in yo’ mouth. Find yourself a chair and I’ll send Gary over with a bowl. You want a beer with that?”

“Better make it water. I’m still on duty.”

“You always on duty, eh, Chief? I’ll send some corn fritters with your gumbo. Save room for dessert now, you hear? Mama’s been baking all afternoon, and I’ll make you a pot of fresh chicory coffee.”

“You don’t have to twist my arm.” Looking forward to the first hot meal he’d taken time for in several days, Dan crossed the scarred hardwood floor to his favorite booth, a small one in the back just big enough for two. He intended to dine there alone, as he usually did.

He certainly didn’t expect to be joined almost immediately by Lindsey Gray.

It took him a moment to realize it was Lindsey. She looked different somehow…and it had little to do with the red glow from the strings of chili-pepper-shaped plastic lights hanging over their heads. She’d changed her hair—it looked softer, a bit curlier. And she was wearing more makeup than usual. She didn’t need it, of course—but he had to admit she looked great.

Only then did he notice what she was wearing. It was a long-sleeved knit dress—unusual in itself for Lindsey—and it was cut up to here and down to there. Not a lot up top to flaunt, but what was showing looked good. And her legs—well, who’d have thought a woman so short could have legs that long?

“Hi, Dan. Fancy meeting you here.” The voice was definitely Lindsey’s—unexpectedly husky for such a little bit of a thing.

“Lindsey. What are you doing here? Do you, uh, have a date or something?”

“No,” she answered, and he wondered why he was glad to hear it. “I’m just in the mood for company and Cajun food tonight.”

“Will my company do?” He motioned toward the other side of the booth, managing at the same time to glare at a greasy-looking guy who was checking out Lindsey’s legs from a table nearby.

Lindsey hesitated just long enough to make his scowl deepen. So how come she was taking such a long time to answer? Had she been hoping to hook up with someone else tonight? Was that the reason she’d dressed to thrill? Did she like being ogled by greasy goofballs on the make? “Sit down.”

Lifting a freshly plucked eyebrow in response to his growled command, she slid onto the other bench. “I don’t want to intrude if you want a quiet dinner alone.”

Though he wasn’t entirely sure he bought the excuse, he answered, “I always enjoy visiting with you. You know that.”

Her dimples flashed in a smile that made her look more like B.J.’s gamine little sister than the sexy redhead who’d greeted him a moment earlier. “Very nice. What did you order?”

“Gumbo. Want the same?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Catching Chuck’s eye, Dan held up two fingers. Chuck responded by making a circle with his thumb and forefinger.

Knowing the food would arrive eventually—service here being dependable if not overly speedy— Dan tried to think of a conversation opener. “So…how’s your week been? I haven’t seen you around much.”

“I’ve been busy. And so have you, I hear. Riley said he’s had to practically chase you down whenever he had a question for you.”

“Yeah, what’s with that, anyway? How come Riley’s suddenly covering my office?”

Lindsey shrugged, one shoulder almost emerging from the deep neckline of the black dress. “I’ve been working on a series of features we’re going to run next week. They’re about the town’s oldest five citizens. It’s been fascinating.”

“Did you talk to Marshall Collier?”

“Of course. He’s 102—and still sharp as a tack. He tells great anecdotes.”

“And Nellie Pollard? You couldn’t interview her.”

“That was a bit more challenging,” she admitted. “Poor thing just sits in a chair and rocks and hums all day, when she’s not sleeping.”

“So what did you do?”

“I interviewed her one surviving son. And her grandsons. Then some of the people she gave piano lessons to during her years as a music teacher—her life reflected through the lives she touched.”

“Did you feel you got to know her that way?”

“I sat with her for a while yesterday,” she said. “The song she hums all the time? It was her favorite—one she taught all her students. Her husband sang it to her the night he proposed to her. She hasn’t played piano since I was in diapers, but she still hears that song in her head.”

“That’s pretty sad.”

“I know. She’s been in a steady decline for the past ten years. But for the almost sixty years prior to that, she brought music into the lives of several generations of young people. Now a lot of them are old, too—but they remember her music.”

Dan studied Lindsey’s face in the glow of the chili-pepper lights. She looked…dreamy, he thought. As if she could hear the music playing even now.

He had no doubt that the articles would be good. Better than should be expected from the average small-town newspaper. But then, the Evening Star was better than the average small-town paper, he conceded—especially now that Cameron had become managing editor, and as long as Lindsey and Riley wrote most of the articles. Cameron would stay—after all, he’d married the paper’s owner. But Riley would be leaving eventually, once he decided to get serious about that book he’d been writing for so long.

As for Lindsey—well, she probably should be utilizing her talents in a bigger market—as much as Dan hated to admit it.

Chuck’s son, Gary, appeared then, bearing a heavily loaded tray. Two big bowls of rice, two of spicy seafood-and-vegetable gumbo. A platter of warm corn fritters. Two mason jars filled with ice water.

“You guys don’t want beer with this?” Gary asked, setting the food in front of them.

“No.”

“Yes.”

They’d spoken simultaneously. Dan glared at Lindsey. “No,” he repeated.

She frowned, but shrugged. “No,” she said to Gary.

“Whatever. Give me a sign if you need anything.” Gary shuffled off at his usual speed—a mosey.

“I’m on duty,” Dan said in response to Lindsey’s questioning look.

“I’m not.”

He spooned gumbo over his rice, then added a liberal dash of hot sauce. “Since when do you drink beer?”

“I don’t very often. But sometimes it’s good with Chuck’s gumbo. I am of age, Dan—want to see my ID?” she asked a bit too sweetly.

He knew very well that she was old enough to drink legally—which didn’t mean he had to like it. How often did she show up here like this, anyway—dressed this way and drinking beer?

He was seeing an all new side to B.J.’s little sister—one he wasn’t sure he liked. But then, Dan had never liked change.

They ate in silence for a few minutes—until their meal was interrupted by a big-shouldered young man with a shock of brown hair, his blue eyes focused squarely on Lindsey’s petite, but prime, cleavage. “Hey, Chief,” the intruder said without looking at Dan.

“Hey, Jimmy. What’s up?”

“Not much. How you doing, Lindsey? Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

She responded with her usual friendliness. “Hi, Jimmy. How are things at the muffler shop?”

“Lot better now that Delbert Farley’s behind bars. I always hated working with that as—that jerk.”

Dan found it extremely irritating that Jimmy’s gaze had hardly wavered from Lindsey’s neckline. “It was good to see you, Jimmy,” he said abruptly, not caring if he sounded rude. “Enjoy your dinner.”

“Oh, uh…yeah. See ya, Chief. You, too, Lindsey.”

“See you, Jimmy.” Lindsey waited until Jimmy was out of hearing distance before commenting to Dan, “You’re in a mood tonight.”

“What do you mean?” he asked a bit too sharply.

“See? You’re snappy. And I’m not even hassling you for a story.”

He shrugged. “Sorry. Guess I’m just hungry.”

She smiled a little and nudged the platter of corn fritters toward him. “So eat.”

Their hands brushed when he reached for one. Even as he reacted to the contact—not quite a static shock, but a similar feeling—he noticed that she’d had a manicure, her usually unvarnished nails now sporting a dark polish.

For some reason the observation made him frown again.

Chapter Three

Her makeover had been a massive waste of time, Lindsey decided glumly. The primping, the fussing, the shopping—all for nothing. Dan hadn’t even noticed.

Trying to feign enthusiasm for the food, she finished her meal.

“Do you want anything else?” Dan asked.

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“I’ll see if I can get the check, then.” Dan lifted a hand, trying to catch the young man’s attention. “Seems like Gary’s moving slower than usual tonight.”

“I’ve noticed that, myself. I wonder if he needs vitamins.”

Chuckling, Dan shook his head. “I think he’s just slow.”

“I’ll pay for my own meal, of course.”

Shooting her a glance over his coffee cup, Dan replied flatly, “You will not.”

“Look, I didn’t join you so you could buy my food.”

“Lindsey—I’m buying. Now drop it.”

She hated it when Dan used the same voice her brother used when he was annoyed with her. Dan wasn’t her brother, damn it. But it seemed as though there was nothing she could do to change his perception of her—which meant she’d blown a few hundred dollars worth of hairstyling aids, cosmetics and a great new dress.

“Hi, Lindsey. Looking good tonight.” A lean cowboy in a flashy red shirt and sprayed-on jeans strolled past the booth, tipping the Western hat he hadn’t bothered to remove as he sent Lindsey a slow smile.

Her feminine ego had needed that boost. She smiled back at him. “Thanks, Bo. How’s it going?”

“Can’t complain. Save me a dance later?”

“Maybe.”

The vague response seemed to satisfy him. He touched his hat again, nodded a greeting to Dan, then sauntered on.

Dan was wearing another frown. “Someone you know?”

She was tempted to point out how silly the question was, since she’d spoken to Bo by name, but considering that Dan wasn’t in the best mood, she merely replied, “We went to school together.”

“Were you expecting to see him here tonight?”

Lifting her eyebrows in response to the inquisition, she answered a bit coolly, “No.”

“This isn’t really a great place for a single young woman to hang out on a Friday night. Especially later in the evening when the booze has been flowing for a few hours. We get a lot of calls out here on weekends.”

Drumming her painted nails on the scarred table-top, she replied, “Perhaps I should remind you again that I am an adult? And this is one of the few places around here for single young adults to hang out.”

He held up a hand, a peacekeeping gesture that did little to appease her. “Just making a comment.”

Nothing about this evening had gone the way Lindsey would have liked. She might as well have stayed home in her T-shirt, shorts and fuzzy slippers. She could have crashed in front of the TV and dined on chips and dip. That would have spared her the humiliation of having Dan sitting right across the table, totally oblivious to the changes she’d made during the past week, lecturing her as if she were a naive high school student.

Sure, Jimmy and Bo seemed to find her attractive—but face it, those two were attracted to anything with breasts. It was Dan’s interest she’d hoped to catch tonight—but not like this.

Throwing some money on the table, Dan glanced at his watch. “I need to run by the station for a few minutes. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Who said I was ready to leave?”

Dan went still for a moment. “You’re through eating, aren’t you?”

She glanced toward the dance floor, which was just starting to come to life. “Yes, but I’m not necessarily in a hurry to get home. There’s nothing waiting for me there.”

“So you’re going to do what? Hang out here drinking beer and dancing with cowboy Bob? Is that why you got all gussied up tonight with the hair and makeup and the low-cut dress?”

So he had noticed the changes. And this was his way of acknowledging it—not as a compliment but a criticism. She slammed both hands on the table. “His name is Bo. And, yes, maybe I’ll dance with him. Maybe I’ll even sleep with him. Heck, I could have a quickie with him out in the parking lot and then come back for a tumble with Jimmy.”

Her quietly furious outburst made Dan’s jaw clench, his eyes going hard and narrow. “Just what the hell is your problem tonight?”

She stood and leaned over the table, making sure he had a good view of what Jimmy and Bo had seemed to find intriguing despite her small size. “My problem is that I’ve grown up, Dan Meadows. And it seems like just about every guy in this town has finally figured that out—except for you.”

Before he could come up with an answer, she straightened and smoothed her dress, trying to get a grip on her temper. “Thanks for dinner. Now I’ll let you get back to work—I’m sure that’s where you’d rather be, anyway.”

She turned on one heel and walked away without looking back. A group of singles was beginning to gather in the far corner of the big room, laughing, flirting, drinking and dancing. It wasn’t Lindsey’s usual type of entertainment, but maybe it was time for her to make some changes. She’d spent the past two years taking care of her father and fantasizing about Dan. But her father was gone, and now she was tired of sitting in her house alone, waiting for something that was obviously never going to happen.

Bo saw Lindsey approaching, grinned and pulled out a chair. The music was louder in this corner, as were the patrons, so he practically had to yell for her to hear him. “Have you ditched the chaperon?”

Chaperon. That was exactly the way Dan had been acting, Lindsey mused angrily. Or like an older brother. “Yeah, he’s gone,” she agreed without looking around to make sure that was true. “You said something about a dance?”

Bo promptly stood, dropped his hat on his chair and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Yes, ma’am.”

She wasn’t really planning to sleep with Bo—or anyone else—tonight. But there was no need for Dan to know that. It was none of his business how she chose to spend her Friday evening. And that was his choice, she reminded herself.

Damn the man.

Dan was still seething late the next afternoon. Every time he thought about Lindsey—too many times in the past few hours for his peace of mind—he got mad all over again.

What had gotten into her last night? In all the years he’d known her, he’d never seen her act that way. Never heard her talk that way.

He could still see her leaning over the table, green fire in her eyes, a flush of temper on her face, the gaping neckline of her sexy black dress revealing slender, creamy curves that he was male enough to appreciate. He felt vaguely guilty about the number of times he’d mentally replayed that picture…not to mention the unwanted stirrings of response he felt every time he did so.

Hell, he was no better than Jimmy or cowboy Bo, practically drooling over her—even worse, because he was old enough to know better. He’d known Lindsey Gray since she was in pigtails, damn it.

She wasn’t a little girl now.

He might have followed that line of thought a bit further, but he was distracted just then by his work.

Someone had called in another fire.

Lindsey showed up at the scene, of course, a camera around her neck and a notebook in her hand. It annoyed Dan greatly that for the first time her presence distracted him from his work. He had never allowed that to happen before—and he was impatient with himself for doing so now. It had to be because he was still perturbed with her behavior last night, wondering what she’d been trying to prove.

She still looked different, he noted as she marched toward him, her reporter’s look of determination on her face. Her new haircut made her coppery hair lie more softly around her face than the choppy style she’d worn before. Her green eyes were highlighted again by judicious use of cosmetics, and her stubbornly set mouth glistened with a light coat of shiny gloss. Instead of her usual jeans and sweatshirt, she wore a soft-looking, heather-colored mock turtleneck and close-fitting black slacks with black boots.

She looked like a classy, competent, professional woman, he realized abruptly. A far cry from the grubby urchin he’d once known so well. Even as he reluctantly admired the woman, he found himself missing the urchin.

Sidestepping a water hose, Lindsey stopped in front of Dan. “Looks like they wrapped it up quickly.”

He nodded. “We were fortunate this time. A delivery driver saw the smoke from his van and called it in. The fire trucks arrived before the fire had spread from the kitchen to the rest of the house.”

Lindsey turned to survey the smoke-darkened back of the frame bungalow. “You’re certain this fire has nothing to do with the arsonist you’re looking for?”

“Yeah. Mrs. O’Malley went next door to visit her neighbor, got distracted by a television program over there and forgot she’d left something cooking on the stove. I came by to make sure, of course, as soon as I heard there was a fire run in this neighborhood, because it’s in the same general area as the arson fires, but I’m convinced this was totally unrelated.”

She nodded and made a note in her pad.

As the firefighters gathered their equipment in preparation to leave, Dan let his thoughts wander away from work again. “You look…well rested,” he said to Lindsey.

“I was home before ten last night,” she said a bit curtly. “Alone. Are you happy?”

He didn’t understand the distance that seemed to be developing between them—and he didn’t like it. Maybe it was his fault. He cleared his throat. “Listen, you were right about last night. It was none of my business if you wanted to stay and have fun with your friends.”

She didn’t seem at all mollified by his concession. In fact, it only seemed to annoy her more. “Well, gee, thanks. I’m so glad I have your approval. Now I can just go party my toes off without a second thought.”

With that she turned and stormed away, apparently intent on interviewing the resident of the damaged house.

Dan stared after her, utterly bewildered. “What the…?”

“Are you and Lindsey at it again?” a woman’s asked in wry amusement from behind him.

He turned to find Serena North, her hands on her hips, her head tilted to one side as she studied him. “Serena,” he greeted her. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard about the fire, so I came by to check it out. Mrs. O’Malley is a good friend of my mother’s.”

“She’s fine. Upset and embarrassed, of course, but it could have been much worse. As it is, she only gutted her kitchen. She could have lost the house had the fire not been called in so quickly.”

“Poor dear. I’m sure Mother will be here soon to help out.”

Dan found himself watching Lindsey again, noting how sympathetically she seemed to be dealing with the distraught older woman. “What’s with her, anyway?”

Serena frowned in confusion. “Mrs. O’Malley?”

“No, Lindsey,” he answered impatiently. “Has she been acting strangely around you recently?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. She’s made a few changes in her appearance, of course, but every woman does that periodically.”

“It’s more than her appearance. It’s her attitude. Seems like she’s had a real chip on her shoulder for the past week or so. Maybe it’s just around me.”

Serena smiled. “I don’t see anything new about that. You and Lindsey are always squabbling. You telling her she’s getting in your way, her insisting that as a reporter she has a right to be in the middle of everything.”

Dan should have found that admittedly accurate description reassuring, but somehow he didn’t. “I think it’s more than that. She just doesn’t seem like herself.”

Turning to study Lindsey, who was now talking to the fire chief as he prepared to depart, Serena looked momentarily concerned. “I’m sure she’s still adjusting to the loss of her father, even though it had been expected for a long time. It couldn’t have been easy for her, losing both parents within five years, and Lindsey still so young. Maybe it would be easier for her if B.J. was around more, so she wouldn’t feel so alone.”

“She’s hardly alone. She has more friends than anyone in town.”

“That isn’t the same as family. You know that.”

Was that Lindsey’s problem? Was she missing her parents, her brother? “Maybe that’s it. I’ll try to take it easier on her.”

Serena laughed and patted his arm. “Start treating Lindsey like a poor orphan and she’s liable to tear off a layer of your skin. She’ll work this out in her own way, Dan.”

“And if that means moving away? She’s talking about selling her house, you know. Moving to a bigger news market, like Dallas or Atlanta.”

Serena frowned for a moment, then smoothed her expression with a little shrug. “I hadn’t heard that, but I guess it doesn’t really surprise me. There isn’t anything to hold her here now that her father’s gone. There are definitely more prospects for her—career-wise and socially—in a bigger city.”

“Socially?”

“Well, of course. There aren’t that many single men her age around here. I’ve heard her say she’d like to marry someday, start a family—she loves children, you know. Not every woman can be as lucky as I was and find the perfect guy literally lying in her own backyard,” she added with a slight smile.

Dan was still struggling with the image of Lindsey married with children. His first instinct was that she was too young—but then he remembered that she’d just passed her twenty-sixth birthday. Where had the time gone?

He tried to picture her with some of the single men in town—specifically, the two who’d seemed so interested in her at Gaylord’s last night. Jimmy and Bo. Neither of whom were even remotely right for Lindsey. Nor was any other guy who sprang to his mind just then.

Her interview with the fire chief completed, Lindsey closed her notebook while Dan watched. With a little wave to Serena that might have been meant to include Dan, she walked to her car, which she’d parked in a line of others at the curb.

Was she walking differently? Adding a little sway to her hips that hadn’t been there before? Or was he just noticing she walked that way? Maybe it was the boots. Or maybe he was spending too much time focusing on Lindsey when he should be concentrating on his own business, he thought irritably, deliberately turning away. He changed the subject abruptly, suggesting to Serena that they should go talk to Mrs. O’Malley.

Serena immediately agreed, and Dan went back to work—though he felt the questions about Lindsey hovering at the back of his mind, waiting to nag him when he was alone again.

Maybe he did need a vacation.

Edstown wasn’t known for its social opportunities, but there were three events that locals turned out for faithfully—the Independence Day celebration in July, the Fall Festival at the beginning of October and the March Mixer. The origins of the latter had grown fuzzy with time, but the mixer had been held every year since the late 1940s. Now a fund-raiser for the Community League, the event generated revenue for a variety of local charities. Prominent citizens and city leaders—the chief of police among them—couldn’t even consider missing the mixer, and of course Lindsey attended to cover the evening for the newspaper.

Usually she looked forward to the gathering. This year she was tempted to call in sick.

She didn’t, of course. She dressed in one of her new outfits—a form-fitting emerald-green dress with spaghetti straps and a floating asymmetrical hemline. Paired with backless heels, the dress gave an illusion of height that she liked. She needed that little ego boost tonight.

Fluffing her coppery hair around her carefully made-up face, she decided she was as ready as she was going to be. Unfortunately, it was a cold, damp night, making a coat necessary. The closest thing she owned to a dress coat was a lined gray raincoat. Since her only other choices were the leather jacket she wore most days or a puffy parka reserved for really cold weather, she chose the raincoat. She would shed it quickly when she arrived, she decided. Maybe she would shop the after-season sales for a nice coat for next winter—wherever she happened to be by then, she thought with a sigh.

She was slipping out of the raincoat even as she stepped into the brightly lit and colorfully decorated community center. Rows of coat racks served as an informal cloak room. She hung her coat on an empty hook, leaving nothing of value in the pockets, since there would be no attendant. She smiled at the two women sitting at a table strategically placed across the hallway to block the entrance into the ballroom. “You two got ticket duty tonight, hmm?”

“Only for the first hour,” Marjorie Schaffer replied with a smile for her friend Virginia Porter. “We’re taking shifts.”

“Good idea. I’m sure you have impatient dance partners waiting inside.”

Both widowed and in their early sixties, the older women laughed, blushed a little, then took Lindsey’s ticket and urged her to go on in.

Because Lindsey had stalled so long getting ready as she’d tried to work up enthusiasm for the evening, the ballroom was already crowded when she walked in. She estimated that she knew by name at least 75 percent of the people there, and it seemed as though they all tried to greet her at once.

Compliments flew, along with quick barely touching hugs and smacking-air kisses. “You look fabulous!” “Love your hair, dress, earrings, shoes.” “Have you been working out?” Though large, fancy parties weren’t her first choice of entertainment options, Lindsey considered herself pretty good at dealing with them. She could schmooze and mingle like a skilled socialite when necessary.

The same couldn’t be said for all her friends. Though Serena and Cameron looked perfectly at ease, Riley seemed to be in danger of falling asleep at any moment. And Dan, when she spotted him, might as well have been one of the security guards who’d been hired for the evening. His faintly vigilant posture, the politely professional expression on his face, his conservatively cut dark suit—all marked him as a man who was here as part of his job, not because he particularly enjoyed such gatherings.

When he saw her, Riley rather abruptly disengaged himself from the two giggly teenagers who’d been testing their flirting skills on the good-looking, unconventional reporter. With his characteristic rolling saunter, he made his way easily through the crowd, coming to a stop in front of Lindsey. Hands on his lean hips, he gave her a slow once-over. “Damn,” he drawled. “You look good.”

She giggled like one of the teenagers. “Thanks. Did someone forget to tell you this is a dressy occasion?”

Lifting an eyebrow, he looked down at his own outfit, which consisted of a blue-and-cream checked-cotton shirt, worn unbuttoned over a cream-colored T-shirt and khakis. “What do you mean?” Riley asked with feigned innocence. “I’m even wearing socks.”

“Oh, so you are. For you, that counts as formal wear, doesn’t it?”

He extended an arm to her. “Dance with me. It will keep me from falling into a coma.”

“Not the most flattering offer I’ve had in a while,” she chided, laying her fingers on his surprisingly muscular forearm. “Are you asking me to dance only because you’re so bored?”

Fully aware that she wasn’t really offended, he chuckled as he escorted her to the dance floor, where a good number of other couples swayed to recorded dance music. A new number was just beginning, and Riley turned Lindsey into his arms, comfortably taking the lead. Riley had always been a good dancer. She allowed herself to relax and enjoy.

“So what’s with the new look you’ve been showing off the last couple of weeks?” Riley asked, proving once again that very little escaped him despite his carefully cultivated air of lazy unconcern.

She shrugged one almost-bare shoulder. “I just decided it was time to start looking like a grown-up.”

He made a face. “Why would you want to do that? You’re not even thirty yet.”

Lindsey smiled up at him. “Who said you have to be thirty to be grown-up? You’re thirty and I wouldn’t exactly call you a model of maturity.”

“Oh, gee, thanks. So why’d you suddenly decide it was time for your metamorphosis?”

“Just ready for a change, I guess. In a lot of ways.”

“I’ve heard rumors that you’re thinking about selling your house. Maybe moving away.”

Even though she’d mentioned the possibility to only a few people, she wasn’t surprised Riley had heard. Word traveled fast in Edstown, and Riley had a way of staying abreast of the latest gossip—though he would have heatedly denied being in the least interested, of course. “It’s a possibility.”

“Thinking about jumping back into the fast lane, hmm?”

“I just need changes,” she repeated. “Don’t you ever get…restless? Itchy?”

“Itchy?” His grin turned wicked. “Sounds to me like what you need is a sex life.”

“I just need a life,” she retorted flatly. “Of any kind.”

“Well, as happy as I would be to offer my services in certain areas, I know you too well. You’re the kind who gets involved with a guy and you start thinking permanence. Commitment.” He gave a dramatic shudder before adding, “Kids.”

He was right, of course. Lindsey was the traditional type at heart. Marriage and children had always been in her plans. Unfortunately, her long-time obsession with a man who gave little indication of returning her interest had kept her from looking seriously in other directions. It was probably time for that to change, too.

With a bittersweet smile, she replied, “No offense, but I can’t see the two of us having babies and growing old together. So, as fond as I am of you, we’ll stay just friends.”

“I’ll have to defer to your wisdom. Even if you do look incredibly hot in that dress.”

Because he sounded sincere enough about the compliment to give her a completely feminine little thrill, she went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “If a no-strings, ungrown-up affair was what I wanted, you would be at the very top of my list,” she assured him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was intended as one.”

The music came to an end. Riley released her, but laid a hand on her arm to keep her still for a moment. “Seriously, Lindsey, if you need to talk, you always know where to find me.”

“Thanks, Riley.” She smiled at him, then turned away—only to find herself face-to-face with Dan, who didn’t look at all happy with her.

She and Dan hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms earlier, she remembered. And it had been her fault, she admitted now. She’d been prickly and defensive, and she couldn’t expect him to understand why. She was the one who had suddenly changed. Dan hadn’t been acting any differently than he ever had—which, of course, was exactly why she was upset with him. It was no wonder he was watching her now as if he wasn’t sure what to expect from her.

She managed to smile at him. “Hi, Dan.”

“Hi.” Someone bumped him from behind as the dance floor began to fill again. Dan reached out to take Lindsey’s arm and walk with her to the side of the room, out of the way. “Are you having a good time?”

“So far, but I haven’t been here long. How about you?”

“Oh, you know. This isn’t really my sort of thing. Mostly I’m here because I’m expected to be.”

“You’d probably rather be at your desk.”

He seemed about to agree, then he smiled a little and shook his head. “To be perfectly honest, I’d rather be fishing.”

She placed a hand on her heart. “Why, Dan Meadows. You mean there’s actually something you like as well as your job?”

“I’m not quite the hopeless workaholic everyone thinks I am.”

The music started again—another slow song. Across the room, chattering townspeople gathered around the heavily laden refreshment tables. There would be live entertainment and drawings for door prizes later in the evening, but the first hour was set aside for visiting, dancing and munching. The event primarily provided an excuse for the locals to dress up and mingle, raising money for good causes in the process.

This crowd differed from the one she’d seen at Gaylord’s last night, of course. This was a somewhat more sedate gathering, with no alcohol served, so she didn’t expect to see Bo or Jimmy there. It wasn’t at all their style.

“Do you want something to eat?” Dan motioned toward the tables.

“No, not yet. Dance with me.”

He looked startled by her impulsive invitation. “Uh…dance?”

“Sure, why not? C’mon, the song’s just starting.”

“I’m not much of a dancer. Not like Riley.”

She caught his hand and tugged. “Dance with me, Dan.”

Though he still looked doubtful, he allowed her to lead him back on the floor.

Dan wasn’t a bad dancer, she quickly discovered. Just a stiff one. Holding her several inches away from him, he rested his right hand sedately at her waist and held her right hand loosely in his left. He would have danced just this way with the minister’s wife, Lindsey thought in exasperation, and deliberately moved a little closer to him.

After a few moments of silence, she tilted her head back to look up at him. “Do you remember the last time we danced together?”

Dan seemed to be counting musical beats in his head. “It’s been a while.”

“It was five years ago—on my twenty-first birthday. My family threw a surprise birthday party for me at the country club. They hired a band.”

Dan had attended the party with a date. Melanie. She of the perfect hair, teeth and breasts. Melanie had made little secret of the fact that she would rather have been just about anywhere other than at a college girl’s surprise party, and she hadn’t liked it at all when Dan had given Lindsey a brotherly birthday kiss after their dance. At least, Lindsey supposed he’d intended it as a brotherly kiss. It was a lot more than that to her. She’d replayed that kiss during a hundred daydreams afterward.

Three days later Dan and Melanie had eloped. And Lindsey’s young heart had been broken.

Was she really willing to go through that again?

Did she really have any other choice?

“I remember,” Dan said.

She doubted his recollections very closely mirrored hers. She wondered if thoughts of that night brought back painful memories of Melanie for him. Since he never, ever talked about his ex-wife, Lindsey had no idea how he felt about her now.

Letting the dance steps move her a bit closer to him, she slid her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck. It felt so good to be in his arms.

Dan lifted an eyebrow, his smile faintly teasing. “Careful, princess. A guy could start getting the wrong ideas.”

“Or he could finally start getting the right ideas,” she murmured, tightening her arm just enough that their bodies brushed together.

The song ended, and Dan set her away from him so quickly she nearly stumbled. “Uh…thanks for the dance,” he said.

Before she could respond, they were surrounded by acquaintances and eventually separated by the crowd. Lindsey was left to wonder if he’d gotten the message or if he’d convinced himself it was only a joke. Knowing Dan, it was probably the latter. He would find that a much more comfortable conclusion.

She knew that eventually she was going to have to openly confront him if she wanted to find out once and for all if there was even a slight possibility that they could ever be more than old friends. She not only wanted to know—she very much needed to know. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life wondering about what might have been if only she’d had the courage to take a chance.

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