“You just haven’t found the right woman yet. That is–if you want to look for her.”

There were questions in Ripp’s eyes; soft needy questions that couldn’t be answered entirely with words. Her racing heart screeched almost to a halt as his head slowly dipped towards hers.

“I am looking for her, Lucita,” he murmured. “I’m looking right now.”

Sensing what was coming, she tried to speak his name, warn him in some way that what he was about to do was fruitless. But nothing would pass her lips.

She could duck her head or jump to her feet and run like a scared rabbit. But those fleeting thoughts didn’t stand a chance against the delicious anticipation zipping through her veins. And instead of resisting, something deep within had her leaning towards him, tilting her head so that her lips were totally available to his…

Available in July 2009 from Mills & Boon® Cherish

Heart of Stone

by Diana Palmer

The Rancher’s Surprise Marriage

by Susan Crosby

Hannah’s Baby

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

Her Texas Lawman

by Stella Bagwell

The Prince’s Royal Dilemma

by Brenda Harlen

The Baby Plan

by Kate Little

STELLA BAGWELL

sold her first book in November 1985. Now, she still loves her job and says she isn’t completely content unless she’s writing. She and her husband live in Seadrift, Texas, a sleepy little fishing town located on the coastal bend. Stella says the water, the tropical climate and the seabirds make it a lovely place to let her imagination soar and to put the stories in her head down on paper.

She and her husband have one son, Jason, who lives and teaches maths in nearby Port Lavaca.

Her Texas Lawman
STELLA BAGWELL

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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I love you all!

Chapter One

Was the driver crazy? At this rate he was going to hit her!

The headlights in Lucita Sanchez’s rearview mirror were growing closer and closer, blinding her view of the secluded black highway in front of her.

Fear rifled through her, shooting adrenaline to every nerve in her body. Her knuckles in a white grip on the steering wheel, she pressed on the car’s accelerator, hoping to pull away from the approaching vehicle.

Was the driver deliberately trying to ram into her? Maybe the driver couldn’t see her?

Don’t try to kid yourself, Lucita. Someone has been tailing you for weeks now. Long before you moved back to the Sandbur.

The broken white lines in the middle of the highway became one long blur as the speedometer crept toward ninety, then ninety-five. Behind her, the vehicle didn’t appear to be relenting. Instead, the headlights seemed to be inching closer and closer to her back bumper.

Her mind was snatching for ways to escape when a jolt from behind lurched her forward in the seat and threatened to wrench the steering wheel from her grip.

The driver was ramming into her car! Someone was trying to kill her!

Dear God, what could she do? Obviously she couldn’t outrun the other car. Even at this speed she was in dire danger of crashing. If she tried to pull over and stop, what would the driver do then? Stop and confront her?

She was frantically weighing the consequences of both choices when a black blob suddenly appeared directly in front of her on the highway.

Screaming, Lucita stomped on the brakes to avoid the animal. Her car instantly skidded sideways. Lights flashed as the vehicle spun round and round, end to end. The whipping momentum shot the car across the grassy right-of-way where it smashed through a fence, then crashed straight into an electric pole.

The violent jolt released the air bag and the safety device exploded in her face, the force snapping Lucita’s head sideways against the window. She felt a stinging blow, and then she felt nothing at all.

Sometime later, she wasn’t sure how long, awareness slowly returned to Lucita. Dazed, she struggled to push herself upright. The air bag had deflated and the nylon fabric was now draped uselessly against the steering wheel. Some sort of white powder was all over her. Apparently the stuff had exploded with the eruption of the air bag.

In front of her, steam was pouring from the crumpled hood and raining down on the cracked windshield. Incredibly, the headlights were still burning, shining a wide swath of light into someone’s pasture and illuminating several bulls grazing among a stand of tall mesquite trees.

Where was she? And what had happened?

Shoving strands of light brown hair off her face, she peered out the back windshield. More than fifty yards away, the highway was black and eerily quiet. Apparently no vehicles had passed since she’d rammed into the electric pole, or if anyone had driven by, they’d not stopped to help.

And what about the menacing vehicle that had been behind her? Whoever had been driving had obviously not stopped to offer her a helping hand when they’d witnessed her crash, which only proved the person had been out to do her harm.

With hands shaking violently, she felt along the left side of the dash and managed to turn off the headlights. The idiot who’d rammed into her just might decide to return and she didn’t want the headlights of her disabled car to be shouting, here I am.

As total darkness settled around her, she realized the shoulder strap on the safety belt was biting into her throat. She reached for the buckle at her waist, then cursed beneath her breath as her fingers fumbled with the latch several times before she finally managed to unfasten it. Once she was free from the belt’s restraint, she breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

Now, she needed to find her purse, she thought, as she tried to come up with a plan. Her cell phone was inside the bag. If all the jolting hadn’t damaged it, she could get help within a few minutes.

Like a blind person, she flattened her hands and began to pat carefully along the seats and the floorboard. After several attempts, she finally discovered the handbag behind the passenger seat. Thankfully, the bag was zipped shut and the cell phone was exactly where she’d placed it.

When the instrument lit up, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks and quickly punched in 911. After informing the dispatcher of her accident and approximate location, she put the phone away and leaned back in the seat. Her family had gone to dinner at a neighbor’s and she didn’t want to bother them until she had to.

Lucita’s mind tumbled with questions as to what to do next. Should she get out of the car to wait? Even though she didn’t smell any fumes, the thing could be leaking gasoline, and any kind of spark might ignite flames. But knee-deep grass and weeds surrounded the car and rattlesnakes were as thick as rats in this area of Texas. Anyone with a lick of common sense wouldn’t walk across their yard at night without a flashlight, much less wade through a tangle of vegetation on the side of the highway. If she had a flashlight to illuminate her steps, she might venture the trek from her car to the highway. But, damn it, she could never remember to keep one in the glove compartment.

Ten minutes later, she was growing restless and about to climb out of the car anyway, when a pickup truck with flashing lights atop the cab pulled off the shoulder of the highway. Relieved beyond measure, she reached for the door handle and realized with faint shock that the door was jammed. Quickly, she leaned across the seat and tried the passenger door—the only other door. It wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t have gotten out of the damn car even if she’d wanted to!

The bright orb of a flashlight suddenly passed over her window. Desperate now, Lucita turned on the key and pressed the electronic button to lower the thick glass.

“I can’t open the door!” she called out to the tall figure approaching the car.

“Just stay where you are. I’ll be there in a second.”

The male voice was strong and solid and very reassuring. Relief tumbled through her, and for one brief moment she feared she was going to weep.

Don’t fall apart now, Lucita. You’ve dealt with far worse crises than this.

The officer finally managed to wade through the tangle of grass and weeds until he reached the side of her wrecked car. Pointing his flashlight straight at her face, he asked, “Are you injured? The dispatcher said an ambulance wasn’t needed.”

Closing her eyes against the blinding light, she said, “I think I’m okay. Just shaken. Both doors seemed to be stuck. Can you get me out of here?”

He tried the driver’s door and after a few strong jerks, the latch broke free. Quickly grabbing her handbag, Lucita swung her legs to the ground. With the help of his hand on her arm, she pushed herself out of the car.

“Ooooh.” Too woozy to stand, she instinctively reached for the nearest solid thing to steady herself, which just happened to be the officer’s broad chest.

“Whoa!” he urged. “Don’t faint on me now!”

His reflexes were quick, and suddenly she felt a pair of massive arms wrapping around her, hugging her against the solid length of his body.

“Easy, ma’am. Take a few deep breaths. Slow and steady.”

She did as he commanded. After a few moments she could feel her strength returning, and with it the embarrassment that she’d practically collapsed into a strange man’s arms.

Beneath her cheek, the starched fabric of his shirt was cool and smooth and smelled of musk and sweetgrasses. In contrast, his arms were warm and their strong support made her feel safer than she’d felt in a long, long time.

Chiding herself for the moment of weakness, she forced her cheek away from his chest. “I—I’m fine. I’m sure I can stand on my own now,” she insisted.

He dropped his arms, but kept a careful hand on her elbow. “I’m Deputy Ripp McCleod, ma’am, with the Goliad County Sheriff’s Department. And you are?”

McCleod? Years ago there had been a sheriff with that name. Could they be related? “Lucita Sanchez. I live on the Sandbur.”

His fingers were so long they wrapped completely around her arm. In spite of her claim that she was fine, she was inwardly grateful for the deputy’s steadying hand. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure her shaky legs had regained enough strength to keep her totally upright.

“You’re related to Matt and Cordero?”

It wasn’t a big surprise to hear this man call her brothers by their given names. Most South Texans were familiar with the Sandbur ranch. This lawman was probably a native of Goliad County. More than likely, he knew many people who lived and worked on the ranch. He just wouldn’t remember her. Not since she’d been gone from her family home for several years and had only just returned in the past few months.

Quickly, she pulled her license and insurance verification from her purse to hand it to the deputy.

“Yes,” she answered. “Matt and Cordero are my brothers. I—I was on my way home when this happened.” She waved her arm toward the front of the car. She hadn’t uprooted the electric pole with her car’s assault, but it was listing toward the west at a precarious angle. The heavy wires were sagging, though thankfully none of them were touching the ground. Cedar posts from the fence she’d run through were now lying on their sides, along with several strands of barbed wire. It was a miracle none of the bulls had milled onto the highway.

The deputy’s thoughts were clearly running along the same path as hers as he twisted his head toward a two-way radio fastened to his shoulder. “Hey, Lijah, hurry up. We got cattle here with a fence down. Get it up as quick as you can before they cause more accidents. And you need to call the power company and let them know a pole needs to be reset.”

“Roger, will do,” the officer answered. “I can see your lights now. Anyone hurt?”

“Don’t think so.”

Deputy McCleod turned his attention back to Lucita and the vague notion that she’d seen him somewhere before raced through her mind. “Is there anyone else in the car?”

It was a hot, moonless night with thin clouds blocking out the stars. The only glimpses Lucita could get of the deputy’s face were when his flashlight inadvertently bobbed upward. Yet in spite of the lack of lighting, she could see that he was a tall man, even after factoring in his dark cowboy hat. His broad shoulders were covered with a uniform-type shirt made of khaki. Blue jeans encased his long, strong legs, while black, square-toed cowboy boots peeped from beneath the hems. A leather gun belt strapped some sort of revolver low on his slim hips. He was the epitome of a Texas lawman, making her acutely aware of his authoritative presence.

“No,” she said. “I was traveling alone.”

“Can you tell me what happened? Or do you remember?” he asked.

He had one of those soft, gravelly voices that made her want to shiver. Or was that reaction from the shock she’d been through? Either way, she hugged her arms against her breasts.

“I’m not totally sure—something ran in front of me. A wild hog, I think. Did you see one on the highway?” She twisted her head in the direction of the darkened blacktop. “I hope I didn’t hit it.”

“I didn’t see a hog on the road or the shoulders. Only a set of skid marks a country mile long. You must have been mighty anxious to get home. Just how fast were you going, Ms. Sanchez?”

There was a hint of censure in his voice, which could only be expected. No one in his right mind would drive the speed she’d been traveling on the highway at night. Except someone in fear for her life, she thought grimly.

“Too fast,” she conceded. “But I—it’s not like you think. I wasn’t just in a hurry to get to the ranch. I was—”

Before she could go on, he interrupted, “In this area, wildlife on the highway is a major problem—even while driving the speed limit.”

He didn’t have to tell Lucita that. This patch of Texas had been her home for many years before she’d moved to Corpus. She’d seen plenty of mangled vehicles and even deaths caused by wandering wildlife.

“Yes, I’m aware of that, Deputy. But I—” How could she tell him that she believed someone had been deliberately trying to run her off the road? Even to herself, the notion sounded incredible. And because she had no evidence to back up her suspicion, she kept it to herself.

Wearily, she reached up to push her long hair away from her face. As her fingertips brushed past her temple, they encountered something wet and sticky. She felt around on her head for the source of the gooey substance and yelped when her fingers pushed onto a lump and an open gash.

“Oww!” Lifting her hand in front of her face, she could see blood smeared on her fingers. “I must have cut myself.”

“Let me take a look.”

Stepping forward, he directed the light toward the side of her head. Lucita stood rigidly still while he parted her long hair to examine the wound. Once again she was assaulted with the pleasant smell of his shirt, the masculine strength of his warm body.

“Yeah, that’s a pretty nasty gash. It was hidden by your hair and I didn’t see it before,” he murmured. “I’d better call in an ambulance, after all. You might need to be checked for a concussion.”

She deliberately moved back from him. “Forget it. I’m not comfortable with hospitals. Besides, my cousin and her husband are both doctors. They’ll come to the ranch and check me out if need be.”

“I’m concerned about more than a concussion,” he said in a brusque, businesslike voice. “You’re probably going to need stitches, too.”

Before she could guess his intention, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, gathered one corner together and pressed the fabric to the wound.

His big hand inadvertently brushed against her cheek and she closed her eyes as she tried to steel herself against the odd emotions rushing through her. How long had it been since a man who wasn’t related to her had been this close? Three years. Three long, lonely years.

“I’ll make sure I get the wound cared for, Deputy. Thank you.”

Sensing that he was making her uncomfortable, he handed the handkerchief to her and stepped back.

“Be sure that you do.” Curling his fingers around her upper arm, he asked, “Can you make it over to my truck? I need to write up the accident and you’ll be more comfortable there.”

Sitting down would be a relief. At the moment it was an effort for her to remain upright. Her head must have taken a harder whack than she’d thought. The dizziness and nausea she’d felt the moment she’d stood on her feet was still coming and going in great waves. “I think so,” she told him.

With his hand on her arm, he supported most of her weight as the two of them waded through the tall grass and weeds. Just as they reached his truck, another patrol car braked to a jarring halt at the side of the highway.

An officer climbed out of the vehicle and Deputy McCleod called over to him.

“If you haven’t already called for a tow truck, do that now, then deal with the fence.”

The other man lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

The deputy led Lucita around to the passenger door of his truck, which he’d left idling, and helped her into the seat. Once she was inside and he’d shut the door behind her, she began to shiver, but whether her reaction was from the air-conditioning blowing from the dash or anticipation of a grilling, she wasn’t sure. She just knew she wanted this whole ordeal over with so that she could go home to her family.

Lights of all shapes and colors illuminated knobs and meters on the dashboard in front of her. A two-way radio crackled as voices intermittently sent information across the airwaves. Behind her head, against the back windshield, long, high-powered rifles rested in a gun rack. She wondered if the lawman had ever been forced to use any of his weapons.

Seconds later, the deputy was sliding into the seat next to her. He switched on the interior cab light and the small space was filled with a dim, yellowish glow. She studied his profile as he silently reached for a clipboard and began to copy information from her driver’s license.

The man was somewhere in his mid to late thirties, Lucita decided. A strong, square jaw was covered with a faint stubble of dark whiskers. Coffee-brown sideburns ended at the lobes of his ears while his hair was just long enough to curl against his nape. His nose was on the large side and surprisingly straight for a man who’d undoubtedly been involved in a fair share of physical scuffles. Faint creases bracketed a roughly hewn set of lips, which at the moment were pressed together in a grim line. No doubt he was very unhappy with her careless driving.

Head still bent, he continued to write. “I don’t think I need to point out how lucky you were tonight. I think you already realize you could have been killed.”

Lucita drew in a deep breath. She wished she could see his eyes. They might give her a clue as to what he was actually thinking. But they were totally shadowed by the brim of his hat. Her gaze fell to his left hand. The ring finger was blank. But what did that matter? Why was she even wondering if the man was married?

She tried to focus on the real reason for sitting next to this lanky deputy. He seemed like a strong, capable man and something about his presence gave her a sense of security. She needed to tell him what actually happened on the highway. She needed his help. Otherwise, she might not survive. “Looking at it that way, I suppose you’re right. But at the moment I don’t especially feel lucky. I—you see, only moments before my encounter with the hog, there was a car tailgating me. It got so close that it bumped me.”

Turning his head, he looked directly at her. The full view of his face was almost as jolting as hitting the power pole, she decided.

“Bumped you?”

Even though he’d only spoken two words, she could hear disbelief in his voice. Looking at it from his view, she could see how ridiculous it sounded. This was a rural area where most people lived at a slow pace. Neighbor knew neighbor and they definitely didn’t try to run one another off the road.

“Yes. At first the lights were so bright and close I was practically blinded. I sped up to try to get ahead of them, but the car wouldn’t back off. Finally it got so close, it rammed my bumper—hard enough to nearly wrench the steering wheel from my hands. I was trying to decide whether to try to outrun it or simply pull over and stop when the hog ran in front of me. I swerved to miss it, and my car began to spin. The next thing I knew, the front end was wrapped around the power pole.”

His gaze dropped back to the clipboard. “Are you sure the vehicle actually bumped you? This particular highway has a few potholes. Hitting one at a high rate of speed can cause serious jolts and even accidents.”

Feeling more blood trickling through her hair, she pressed his handkerchief more firmly to the wound on her head. “I understand that this all sounds unbelievable. But it wasn’t a pothole. The car really did bash into me.”

As though he needed a closer inspection of her, he turned toward her as his thumb pushed the brim of his hat a fraction higher on his forehead. “Did you have any sort of altercation with this vehicle before the accident? Maybe you forgot to dim your lights and the driver got angry and wanted payback? Or you cut them off from a prime parking space? Unfortunately, road rage can get out of hand.”

Shaking her head, she said firmly, “No. Nothing like that happened today, yesterday or any time.”

A faint dimple grooved his cheek as he smiled. “You must be a very courteous driver, Ms. Sanchez.”

Looking away from him, she reminded herself that she’d never been attracted to lawmen, that they were too cocky for her taste. This one was no exception. Still, there was something about him that affected her in the most sensual sort of way.

“Most Texans are courteous drivers,” she replied. “Except for the idiot chasing me.”

He glanced thoughtfully out the windshield. “If this wasn’t a case of road rage, then why would someone be chasing you? Have you had a personal dispute with anyone?”

His questions made her squirm uncomfortably. She realized the more she tried to explain the accident tonight, the stranger she sounded. “I realize I must seem paranoid to you, or worse, a woman suffering from histrionics. But I’ve been—I believe that someone has been following me around. Stalking me.”

She glanced over to see he was staring at her with genuine concern. She was relieved he was actually taking her fears seriously.

“Have you reported this to the authorities?” he asked.

“No.” She probably should have, but without proof, law officials would have considered her a paranoid loon or something. Besides, she’d continued to hope the whole matter would simply go away.

“What about your family? Did you tell any of them about this?”

“I mentioned it to my aunt Geraldine. But at that time, it was only a feeling on my part.”

His dark gaze continued to search her face as though he was trying to see the truth. She could have told him he wouldn’t find anything underneath her skin. She was just a plain, totally forgettable schoolteacher.

“Do you have any enemies that you’re aware of?”

Lucita released a long, pent-up breath. “Not really. But in this day and age, how does anyone ever know? I do teach high school in Victoria at St. Francis. I suppose an angry student could be wanting to scare me.”

“Scaring is one thing, but stalking is a criminal act and very serious.”

The long chase she’d gone through tonight had certainly felt criminal. But she didn’t want to think about that now. She didn’t want to think that someone might have actually wanted to scare her that much, or even worse, to make her crash.

She tried to shake off the sinister thoughts. “Well, the car did go on after I crashed. I suppose if the driver had really wanted to do me harm they would have come back to finish what they started.”

The deputy’s lips pressed into a grim line. “I don’t want to scare you, but this person might have believed the crash finished you and he or she didn’t want to risk being caught at the scene of a crime.”

Lucita’s blood turned ice-cold. “I can only hope you’re wrong.”

His expression softened slightly. “I hope I’m wrong, too,” he replied, then asked, “Can you tell me more about the vehicle?”

Shaking her head, she sighed wearily. “Not much. I’m fairly certain that it was a car, low-slung and sleek. It looked black or some dark color.”

“Nothing more about the make or model? The tag?”

A dull ache was beginning to spread through her whole head. She wiped a hand over her forehead while wishing for aspirin and a cool pillow beneath her cheek. “No. I didn’t have time to catch any details. It zoomed up behind me and then I was too blinded to see anything more.”

Nodding, he jotted something down on his notepad. “Well, right now you’re probably going to be more angry with me than the tailgater, because I’m going to have to write you up on a traffic violation for reckless driving.”

Wide-eyed now, she stared at him. “What about the hog? Doesn’t it count for anything? And the tailgater—or whatever he was?”

One corner of his mouth lifted wryly. “Other than your word, I have no proof of a tailgater or a hog. But I do intend to make a search.” He handed her info back to her, then, picking up the flashlight, he opened the truck door and ordered, “You stay where you are.”

What the heck did he think she was going to do? Lucita wondered. Her car was incapacitated and her legs felt like mush. It was still several miles to the ranch. She could hardly walk home from here. And she wasn’t about to stumble around in the dark to help him hunt for a dead hog.

Far off to her left, beneath a beam of headlights, she could see her crumpled car and the officer called Lijah working to upright the barbed-wire fence. To her immediate right, Deputy McCleod was searching the shoulders of the highway, sweeping the high grass with his flashlight.

The man was a handsome devil, she thought. There was no denying the fact. Something about this man had caught her attention the moment he’d stepped up and dabbed his handkerchief to her bleeding head.

She still couldn’t believe she’d actually searched his left hand for a sign of a wedding ring. What could have possibly possessed her? The deputy’s marital status had nothing to do with anything.

She wasn’t looking for a man to curl up to. Even one that looked as good as Deputy Ripp McCleod. She’d had one good-looking, smooth-talking man in her life and now that he’d gone with the wind, along with her family inheritance, she’d vowed to never have another. But this Texas lawman was more than enough to make a woman forget her vows!

Chapter Two

Her head now throbbing with pain, Lucita pulled her handbag onto her lap and began to search for a painkiller. She was still pawing her way through lipstick tubes and crumpled receipts when the cab door opened again and Deputy McCleod slid beneath the steering wheel. With him came the warm night air and his distinctly male scent. A prickle of awareness suddenly dotted her skin with goose bumps.

“No hog, Ms. Sanchez,” he told her. “Once it’s daylight, the department will have a closer inspection of your car. Of course, if we find anything, we’ll inform you.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Actually, I’m glad you didn’t find the hog. I didn’t want to think I’d ended its life, even if it would have helped me avoid a ticket.”

He reached for the clipboard and the paper where he’d jotted down her license information. “Hog. Tailgater. Whatever. You were obviously driving way too fast, Ms. Sanchez. I’d say if you put any value on that neck of yours, you’d better slow down.”

Lucita clamped her lips together as she watched him scratch more comments across the bottom of a second set of documents. He was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch him write what looked to be a whole stack of driving tickets.

“What am I supposed to do if someone starts to harass me on the highway again?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

He looked up and Lucita couldn’t help but notice the way his dark brows met in the middle of his forehead, the way the corners of his chiseled lips turned faintly downward. The man even made frowning look sexy, she thought.

“You really are concerned about a stalker, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “It’s just a hunch, but enough of one to scare me.”

To her surprise he reached across the seat and gently touched her forearm in a reassuring way. “I wouldn’t borrow trouble, Ms. Sanchez. Unfortunately, lots of people encounter rude, reckless drivers on the highway, but that’s where it ends. I doubt you’ll have any more problems. Just be vigilant and drive safely.”

Under normal circumstances, Lucita would agree with him. But her past wasn’t exactly normal. Three years ago her ex-husband had stolen every penny of the inheritance her family had given her after she’d turned twenty-five. And so far the police hadn’t been able to locate his whereabouts. But she wasn’t about to get into that sordid story with this man. After all, Deputy McCleod considered this a traffic incident and nothing more. And perhaps it would be best to let him keep thinking that, Lucita decided. Especially when she hadn’t a lick of proof that the person who’d practically run her down on the highway was Derek Campbell or anyone connected to him. Besides, during their ten-year marriage he’d never once threatened to harm her in any way.

Yet for the past few weeks she hadn’t been able to shake the idea that her ex was somehow connected to the person who’d been shadowing her comings and goings.

Folding the lawman’s handkerchief into a tight square, Lucita pressed it back to the leaky wound on the side of her head. “You’re right, Deputy McCleod,” she said after a moment. “I need to quit worrying and be glad that my car was the only victim tonight.”

“Like I said earlier, you’re one fortunate lady,” he said in a low voice. “I guess you know that?”

“Yeah,” she said with feigned cheerfulness, “this is definitely my lucky night.” Straightening her back, she looked away from him and said, “If you’re finished writing up that report, I’m going to call my brother to come get me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said curtly. “I’m taking you home myself.”

Her head turned toward him. “What?”

“We’re not that far from the Sandbur,” he explained. “There’s no need to bother your family. Besides, I think I need to talk with them about this little accident.”

Lucita couldn’t help but stare at him and wonder at his motive. As far as she knew, it wasn’t the legal responsibility of the sheriff’s department to see that she got home safely. “Is that normal procedure?” she couldn’t help but ask.

His face stoic, he ripped her portion of the ticket from his clipboard and handed it over to her. She took the piece of paper and without a glance crammed it into her purse.

“There’s no need for you to concern yourself about my procedure, Ms. Sanchez. I never step out of bounds.”

With the law, or women? she wondered. But she kept that question to herself. If this man knew she’d been looking at him as anything other than an official of the law, he’d probably write her a second set of tickets.

Deputy McCleod twisted the key in the ignition and the truck sparked to life. As he whirled the vehicle onto the highway, he picked up the two-way mike fastened to the dashboard. “Lijah, I’m headed to the Sandbur. Be sure to measure the skid marks and try to locate the owner of the damaged fence. If those bulls get out we’ll have accidents and lawsuits all over the place.”

“Gotcha, Ripp. Will do.”

Grabbing the seat belt, Lucita fastened it across her lap while the deputy gunned the truck down the highway toward the Sandbur turnoff.

Once she had the belt securely in place, she settled against the seat and stared out the blackened windshield. Her throbbing pulse was causing the gash on her head to leak even more and she pressed the handkerchief tightly to the wound. The fleeting thought passed through her mind that the snow-white fabric he’d lent her would never be the same again. She would owe him a handkerchief. But would she ever have the opportunity to repay him?

Idiot, she scolded herself. Seeing Deputy McCleod again was the last thing she needed to be thinking about.

From the corner of her eye, she watched him reach for the two-way radio. After the female dispatcher responded he began repeating letters and numbers that Lucita quickly recognized from her car tag and driver’s license. She understood. Even though her family was well-known in this part of Texas, he had no way of knowing if she had outstanding tickets or warrants. He had to treat her like any other person involved in an accident.

Moments later the dispatcher came back on the air. “Everything clear on that license and tag, number two.”

“Roger. Thanks.”

“Did she call you number two?” Lucita asked curiously.

“That’s my code,” he explained. “I’m the chief deputy behind the sheriff.”

“Oh.” She should have guessed he wasn’t a mere deputy. The man reeked authority, along with all that masculinity.

“Where will my car be taken?” she asked after a moment.

He answered her question. “To the only salvage yard in town—Santee’s. But just in case you’re wondering, I can save you the trouble and tell you right now that the vehicle is totaled.”

He flipped on the left-hand blinker and turned onto a graveled road that would eventually carry them to Lucita’s family ranch. The Sandbur was such a large property that it was divided into two: the Mission River Division and the Goliad Division. The latter was where the homes of the owners were located and it was to that bustling part of the ranch that Deputy McCleod headed as he guided the truck over a bumpy road past stands of mesquite trees and wesatch bushes.

Lucita wanted to ask him who’d made him an authority on automobiles, but she bit her tongue. There wasn’t any point in taking her bad fortune out on this lawman. So far he’d treated her with respect and concern where another lawman might have taken pleasure in giving her an angry chewing-out.

Forcing her gaze away from his handsome profile, she said in a quiet voice, “Do you think I’m lying about the tailgater bumping into me?”

Not bothering to spare her a glance, he said, “No. But there’s a chance you could be mistaken. Things happen quickly when a person is traveling at a high rate of speed. And I—”

He paused as though he didn’t think his next words were appropriate and Lucita was quick to prompt him. “Please finish, Deputy McCleod. I respect your experienced opinion.”

“Okay. I get the feeling that you’re holding something back about this whole thing.”

The insinuation in his words made her more than a little uncomfortable. She didn’t want this man knowing that she was the black sheep of the Saddler-Sanchez family, that she was the only one who’d brought shame upon herself and her loved ones by marrying a guy they all objected to. “In other words, you don’t trust me.”

He darted a glance at her and the aloofness on his face left her colder than the air blowing from the vents on the dashboard.

“Ms. Sanchez, in my business I can’t take anyone at face value.”

Thankfully for Lucita the remaining distance to the ranch house was only a few short miles. The atmosphere inside the deputy’s truck was thick with tension and the only noise breaking the awkward silence was the sound of crackling voices going back and forth over the two-way radio.

Lucita hunkered down and tried to rest her head on the back of the seat, but each time the truck hit a washed-out hole in the road, the jarring seemed to go right to her injury. After a couple of minutes she gave up and sat rigidly on the edge of the seat.

Before long they crossed a cattle guard framed with an iron pipe entrance. Above, on the arch brace, the S/S brand cut from sheet metal swung in the night breeze.

After they rumbled across the slatted cattle guard, the road began to branch off in all directions between barns, corrals and outbuildings. Deputy McCleod seemed to know exactly where he was going, as he passed the main ranch house, and barreled on toward her father’s redbrick home. She could only surmise that he’d been here before. Perhaps he’d visited when some unidentified ruffians had seriously injured her father in town, or maybe he was acquainted with her brothers personally. She could only guess. One thing she did know, if she’d met him before, she would have never forgotten him.

Lucita quickly corrected his directions. “I’m not living with my father and brothers. I live in the guesthouse out back. You need to go past the first turnoff.”

Thankfully he didn’t ply her with personal questions. Instead, he said, “I think I’d better hand you over to your family, first. I want to make sure you get that wound attended to.”

The man didn’t even trust her to take care of herself. Well, what did she expect, she asked herself grimly. She’d confessed to driving at dangerous speeds. That didn’t exactly speak well for her common sense. But if he’d only seen the menacing car trying to run her down, he might actually understand the desperation she’d felt.

Moments later he parked in front of the Grecian-style manor house. Grabbing up her handbag, Lucita followed him up the lighted path to the front entrance. She hoped that someone was home by now.

To her relief, her older brother, Matteo, Matt to those who knew him well, answered the door. The moment he saw the caller was Deputy McCleod, he stepped onto the concrete porch with a broad smile and reached to shake his hand.

“Ripp! What are you doing out here tonight, old buddy?”

The tall, lean deputy stepped to one side and gestured to Lucita, who was standing at the edge of the shadows.

“I have your sister here, Matt. She met up with an accident a little bit earlier tonight. I thought you’d better know about it.”

Lucita felt like a child bringing home a note from her teacher. Only this was worse than getting caught rubbing dirt in a boy’s face or kicking a pompous cheerleader in the shins.

For a moment her dark-haired, muscular brother was completely stunned. “My God! Luci!”

Stepping into the glaring orb of the porch light, Lucita realized she must be a frightful sight. Blood was smeared on her cheek and hands, and at some point since the accident, it had dripped onto her beige blouse and matching slacks, leaving red splotches against the expensive linen.

Matt grabbed her by the shoulders. “What happened?”

Even though Matt was only four years older than her thirty-six years, he took the big brother role a step further, treating her more like a father. For the past three years it had been Matt who’d pestered and cajoled until she’d packed up her son and their belongings and moved from Corpus Christi back to the Sandbur. It had been Matt who’d convinced her that family was meant to be together, especially in times of trouble. Well, she’d had more than her share of strife and it looked as though her misfortune was still hanging around to make her life even more difficult.

“I’m okay, Matt. Really. It’s just a little cut on the head. Is Marti inside or at the guesthouse?” She glanced around him to the double door entrance of the house. If her eleven-year-old son, Marti, spotted the official sheriff vehicle in the driveway, he’d be outside in a split second to investigate. Lucita wasn’t keen about him seeing her in such a state. The boy had already been through enough traumas these past three years without him knowing his mother had nearly lost her life.

“Neither. He and Gracia are up at the big house playing some sort of card game with Aunt Geraldine.”

“Good,” she said, relieved. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

Matt whipped an accusing look at the deputy. “Ripp, what the hell did you bring her here for? She needs to be in the emergency room!”

Ripp grimaced. He’d expected this from Matt. And no doubt Mingo would be just as appalled to see his daughter battered and bleeding. The Sanchez men were one of the reasons he’d decided to personally deliver Lucita here to the ranch. Several years ago, Mingo had gone out of his way to help Ripp get the job of Chief Deputy for Sheriff Travers. As for Matt, he’d become a friend to Ripp while in high school and that friendship had deepened over the years. During that time he’d not met Lucita, but now he definitely wished he had.

“Your sister is just as bullheaded as you are, Matt. She refused an ambulance. Said her cousin would sew her up if need be.”

“Luci, there are times to be tough, and then there’re times you need to accept help! When are you ever going to learn that?” Matt gently scolded before grabbing his sister by the arm and hurrying her toward the house. “You lucked out tonight, sis. Nicci and Ridge just happened to come back with us after supper and they’re still here.” He looked over to Ripp. “Come in, Ripp. You can tell me what happened while Nicci sees to Luci’s injury.”

Nodding, Ripp followed the two siblings inside the big, two-story house. Compared to Ripp’s little bungalow on the outskirts of Goliad, this home was more than a mansion. The Saddler and Sanchez families, co-owners of the Sandbur, were wealthy and had been for more than a century. Yet Ripp would be the first to admit that Matt and his family never behaved as though they were affluent. Whenever he’d been around them, they had acted the same as any regular folks that worked hard for a living. And Ripp knew for a fact that none of the men sat back and let the hired help run the ranch for them. They got manure on their hands just like the rest of the crew. But as for their sister, Lucita, Ripp was in the dark. Before tonight he’d heard snippets of gossip about her from time to time. Lucita seemed to be the outsider of the family, but then a person could hear anything, especially when they worked in law enforcement.

“Nicci! Juliet! Come here!” Matt yelled as they stepped into an empty great room.

Matt’s wife Juliet, a tall blond woman, was the first to rush into the room. Nicci, their pregnant cousin, was right behind her and with her doctor’s instinct, she was the first to race to Lucita.

“My God, Lucita!” Nicci exclaimed. “What happened?”

“Seems she’s had some sort of car accident,” Matt spoke up before Lucita could answer. “Can you do something about her head?”

“Of course! Ridge and I carry a medical bag around in the car—just in case it’s needed. I’ll get him to fetch it.” The petite brunette gently placed her arm around Lucita’s shoulder. “Come on, Luci, let’s get that wound taken care of.”

Juliet started toward the kitchen. “I’ll tell Ridge to get the medical bag.”

Once the three women were out of the room, Ripp watched Matt heave out a heavy sigh before turning a look of concern on him.

“What in hell happened, Ripp? Were any other cars involved?”

“I’m not exactly sure about that.”

Matt raked a hand through his hair and Ripp thought his friend seemed a little overwrought about the whole incident. True, his sister had been slightly injured and her car was smashed, but that was a minor problem to a family with money to spare.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“We’ll talk about that later. Right now you should just be happy that all Lucita received was a bump on the head. She’s lucky to be alive. Before we left the scene of the accident, she admitted to me that she’d been driving very fast.”

His face grim, Matt stared at him. “So she was breaking the speed limit, after sundown, when she knows the deer and hogs are venturing out? What the hell was she thinking?”

Ripp grimaced. He hated being the bearer of bad news, but in this case and every case, he had to be honest even if it meant bringing worry and pain to a friend.

“I’m not sure. Hell, Matt, she left skid marks from here to the horse barn and that’s no exaggeration. I haven’t examined the scene of the accident closely yet, I left Lijah in charge of that. But on first glance it looked as though once she stomped on the brakes, the car went into a spin. The front wound up having a head-on crash with a power pole. Her vehicle is totaled, that’s for sure.”

Shaking his head with disbelief, Matt gestured toward a grouping of leather furniture situated in front of a fireplace—unlit, of course, since they were presently sweating through the last sultry days of August.

“Sit, Ripp. We don’t need to stand up to talk. How about a cup of coffee or a beer?”

Ripp really didn’t have time to sit or enjoy any sort of drink, but Matt seemed particularly upset about his sister’s accident. He didn’t want to make things worse for him by cutting this visit short. “Better make it coffee,” he told his friend. “I’m still on duty.”

While Ripp made himself comfortable in a nearby armchair, Matt left for the kitchen. As he waited for the rancher to return, Ripp slowly eyed the spacious room. He’d been in the house a few times in the past few years and what he always remembered most about the place was that, in spite of the opulence, its rooms were warm, relaxed and homey.

Lucita had told him that she lived in the guesthouse situated about a hundred yards behind this building. He’d never been inside that particular house, but it had always reminded him of one of those Mediterranean villas with its low roof, pale pink stucco and arched supports running along the ground-floor porch. To Ripp it was a minimansion, but it didn’t compare to this house and he wondered why the sister and her son had chosen to live there instead of here with the rest of the family. Maybe those rumors he’d heard about her being an outsider of sorts were true. Or maybe her husband didn’t want to live that closely with his in-laws. That is, if she had a husband. The name on her driver’s license had been Sanchez and nothing more. But there were some women who chose not to take their husbands’ name, especially when they were from a prestigious family, whose name equaled authority.

In any case, he shouldn’t be curious about the woman. She was a ranching heiress, a woman way out of a poor lawman’s league, and more than likely married. So why had something about her caught his attention from the very first moment he’d walked up to her demolished car?

Maybe because she’s a beauty and then some, McCleod. And maybe because when she fell into your arms you felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness.

Moments later, when Matt reappeared in the living room, Ripp did his best to shake away his strange feelings toward his friend’s sister.

A young woman with a black braid wound atop her head followed him, carrying a tray with an insulated pot and two cups.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, Ripp,” Matt said as he took a seat on the couch. “Alida was making fresh coffee and I was explaining to Dad about the accident.”

Ripp looked toward the kitchen. “Where is your father?”

Matt jerked his head toward the part of the house where the women had disappeared. “He and Ridge are checking on Luci.”

Alida, the young maid, quietly served each man a mug full of coffee then discreetly left the room. Once she was out of sight, Matt scooted to the edge of the seat and pinned Ripp with an insistent stare.

“All right, Ripp, what’s the real story here? I can see it on your face. Something else was going on with Luci tonight, wasn’t it?”

Ripp’s dark brows slowly inched upward. “What do you mean? Your sister had a wreck. It happens to a lot of people—unfortunately every day of the year.”

“Damn it, man, that’s not what I mean! What did she tell you caused it? My sister isn’t irresponsible. On top of that, she’s a careful driver. She wouldn’t have been speeding just because she wanted to go fast. Luci would be too worried about hurting someone else on the highway to do such a thing. She’s that sort of person.”

Ripp took a sip of the rich, Colombian coffee as he met Matt’s gaze with a frank look. “Your sister said someone was tailgating her—trying to hit her from behind. She said she sped up in an attempt to get away from the other vehicle. After that, a hog ran in front of her and she tried to avoid hitting it. That’s when she lost control of the car.”

As Ripp talked he could see his friend’s expression grow harder and harder. Strange, he thought, that Matt hadn’t responded with disbelief.

“What about the other car?” Matt asked.

Ripp shrugged. “If there was another car it apparently went on down the highway.”

“And didn’t bother to see if anyone had been hurt? Doesn’t that seem a bit strange?”

Actually, Lucita’s Sanchez’s whole rendition of the accident had seemed outlandish to Ripp, but in his line of work he’d seen stranger things happen out on the roads and highways. “Only a little, Matt. Lots of people don’t want to get involved with accidents.”

“Fender benders maybe. But from what you tell me this was a crash! Someone could have been dead!”

Ripp took another sip of coffee as he measured his friend’s strong reaction. He tried to make his next question as casual sounding as he could. “Do you believe someone was actually trying to run your sister off the road?”

“Damn right, I believe it,” Matt snapped. “If she said it, then it happened. Luci doesn’t lie.”

Trying to keep an open mind about the whole thing, Ripp said, “All right, Matt, if you say so, I believe you. So I’m asking as a lawman, is there some reason you believe Lucita was attacked?”

Lucita’s brother stared down into his mug. “Not exactly,” he said quietly.

“That’s funny,” Ripp replied. “I got the impression that you weren’t too surprised to hear about Lucita’s claims. And she tells me she believes someone has been stalking her.”

With a tight grimace, Matt lifted his gaze up to Ripp’s. “Look, Ripp, my sister…” His words trailing away, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one else had entered the room. “She’s had a rough time of things for a few years now. I don’t want to say a lot about it, because frankly, she’s not wild about everyone knowing what went on between her and that bastard of a husband she used to have.”

Used to have. Crazy, how Ripp’s mind had latched onto those three words. “Your sister is divorced?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah. And I thank God she is. He was a loser and—”

“And what?” Ripp prompted, realizing he wanted to know more about the lovely woman who’d fallen briefly into his arms. She’d felt soft and fragile and her hair had smelled like the flowers that had grown in his mother’s garden. He knew his reaction to her was sappy, even foolish, but it was there and he couldn’t stop it.

“Well, nobody knows where he is,” Matt went on. “He disappeared.”

Frowning, Ripp tried to understand what significance that had on Lucita’s car accident. “Hell, Matt, that’s not so unusual. Especially if he had to pay alimony.”

Matt’s expression was suddenly thunderous. “It’s not alimony I’m talking about—they have a son. Marti thinks his father hates him. That’s hell for an eleven-year-old boy.”

Lucita had a son. He figured something like that while they’d been on the porch and she’d mentioned the name Marti. But she was divorced. That snippet of information put everything in a different light. A light that he needed to switch off, he quickly reminded himself.

“Has her ex ever stalked her before?”

Matt shook his head. “No. Not that I know of.”

“What about threats or anything like that?” Ripp persisted. If there was even the slightest chance that Lucita Sanchez was in danger, he wanted to know about it.

More thoughtful now than angry, Matt said, “No, Lucita has never mentioned anything like that. In fact, I’m sure she hasn’t heard from him since he left.”

“Well, this whole thing could have just been an accident, Matt. There’re some pretty foolish drivers out there on the road. They might not have realized just how close they were to your sister. In any case, I wouldn’t worry myself about it.”

He drained the last of his coffee and placed the mug on a nearby end table. “I’d better be going, Matt. I left Lijah dealing with the fence your sister plowed up. He might need help.”

Ripp started toward the foyer and Matt followed. At the door, the rancher slapped a grateful hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks for bringing Lucita home, Ripp. We’ll see that she’s taken care of.”

Nodding, Ripp said, “A tow truck will take her car into Santee’s. After the sheriff’s department finishes its investigation, Lucita’s insurance company can find it there.” He grimaced as he glanced back at his friend. “Sorry, Matt, but I had to give her a citation. Without proof of the other car I couldn’t do anything else.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to do anything else,” Matt said, and then with a worried shake of his head, added, “I just hope nothing else happens and that it really was only some nutty driver on the road.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” Ripp agreed.

Realizing he’d already stayed longer than he should have, Ripp gave Matt a final farewell and left the house. But as he drove away, his gaze drifted one last time to the scattered lights beaming through the windows of the Sanchez home. A part of him wished he could have seen Lucita before he’d left. Just to make sure she was okay.

Forget her, McCleod. You don’t want another woman in your life. Especially a gorgeous heiress with problems as big as her bank account. That sort of trouble you don’t need.

Ripp was agreeing with the little voice in his head and trying to push her pretty face from his mind when Lijah’s voice suddenly came across the radio.

“Hey, number two. You close to your radio?”

Sighing with unexplained weariness, Ripp picked up the mike. “Yeah. I’m here, Lijah. What’s up? You didn’t let those bulls get out, did you?”

“Forget the fence. Done got it patched. I’ve been measuring those skid marks like you told me, but I’ve run into a little problem.”

Ripp frowned. Lijah wasn’t always the smartest deputy on the crew, but Ripp loved him like a brother and tried to be patient with his sometimes-thick head. “What sort of problem?”

“There’re two sets of skid marks here, Ripp.”

Ripp’s mind whirled as he tried to recall the marks he’d inspected from inside his truck as he’d driven up to the scene of the accident. He’d not taken the time to stop and walk the whole distance of the tire tracks. At that time it had been more important to make sure the occupants of the car were okay. Apparently Lijah had found something to corroborate Lucita’s story. “Two? Take a closer look, Lijah. You got your glasses on?”

“Dang it, Ripp, you know I don’t come to work without my glasses! I see two sets of skid marks. They’re almost on top of each other. You’d better come look for yourself.”

A cold, sinking feeling dropped to the pit of Ripp’s stomach. This was evidence that another car had been following Lucita closely. But did it mean that someone had been trying to harm her? He couldn’t answer that with one hundred percent certainty until he investigated more. And that was something he thoroughly intended to do.

“Lay out some barriers, Lijah. I don’t want another car to drive over that section of highway before I get a good look. I’ll be right there.”

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