Keeping close tabs on her opponent… is a minefield of temptation!

When detective Zoe Warren arrives in Royal, Texas, to investigate a case, wealthy rancher Cord Galicia can’t believe his innocent best friend is the prime suspect. So Cord decides to woo Zoe as a distraction. But soon she has his libido in custody. With so much at stake—and their very real heat rising by the minute—will his hidden agenda tear them apart?

Award-winning USA TODAY bestselling author YVONNE LINDSAY has always preferred the stories in her head to the real world. Married to her blind-date sweetheart and with two adult children, she spends her days crafting the stories of her heart. In her spare time she can be found with her nose firmly in someone else’s book.

Also by Yvonne Lindsay

Wed at Any Price

Honour-Bound Groom

Stand-In Bride’s Seduction

For the Sake of the Secret Child

Marriage at First Sight

Tangled Vows

Inconveniently Wed

Vengeful Vows

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Tangled with a Texan

Yvonne Lindsay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09269-2

TANGLED WITH A TEXAN

© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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To my fellow Texas Cattleman’s

Club: Houston authors, always a

pleasure working with you, ladies!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Epilogue

About the Publisher

One

As if it wasn’t enough she’d had to hand over her additional casework to the rest of her already overloaded team, now she was headed all the way out to Royal, Texas. Zoe Warren was a city detective, hell, city girl, through and through. She already could start to feel her skin itch at the thought of cattle and cowboys and all that open pasture. Mind you, driving the three hundred or so miles to Royal had presented as a far more attractive option than facing yet another blind date set up by one of her four older brothers or her parents, who seemed to think she needed help settling down. And who said she wanted to settle down, anyway? She’d worked long and hard for her place on Houston P.D.’s detective squad, and her career trajectory was heading straight up. You weren’t a third generation cop without some dreams and goals ahead of you—and at only thirty years old, she had plenty of dreams and goals to fulfill while quite happily still single.

Sure, one day it might be nice to get married, throw a couple more Warren genes into the pool of rapidly growing family her brothers and cousins were constantly adding to. But not right now. And not on her ever-loving family’s timetable, either.

The open country that surrounded her had a raw beauty to it that even her citified eyes couldn’t help but appreciate. But always, in the back of her mind, she was working. As lead detective on the homicide case that was sending her on this journey, she was beginning to feel like the more they uncovered about the deceased, Vincent Hamm, the less they actually knew about him, and for her, following down each and every rabbit hole in Hamm’s life had become an obsession. The good thing about having this time on her own as she drove west toward Maverick County was that it gave her the opportunity for some thinking time. Time without the constant pressures that came with the responsibilities of her job.

Everything about this case was off. First, the vic had disappeared into thin air, then he’d never shown back up for work, and after the floodwaters had receded at the site of the new Texas Cattleman’s Club being built in Houston, he was eventually found dead with his face destroyed. Whoever killed him had taken great pains to ensure he couldn’t be visually identified—although the floodwaters had taken their toll, too.

Zoe took a swig of her water bottle and grunted in annoyance when she found it empty. Still, not long now and she’d be in Royal—she could stock up at a convenience store there. But first, a quick swing by the sheriff’s office was in order to make a courtesy visit and let them know that she’d arrived in the county. Nathan Battle, the sheriff, had made a personal visit to Houston to lend his support to the case. Her vic was the son of a friend of his and she’d expected Battle to be loudmouthed at the very least, and difficult at worst. Instead, she’d been quietly surprised by his demeanor. Oh, there was no mistaking the determination behind his promise to Hamm’s family to get to the root of who murdered their son, but he was a by-the-rules guy and his help here in Royal could prove invaluable to her investigation. She’d gone to great lengths to ensure she was doing everything in her power to bring the murderer to justice, and she was confident she’d earned the older man’s trust. She liked the guy. Not pushy, just determined. She respected that.

About ten minutes later, guided by the GPS on her phone—without which she’d be totally lost anywhere, not having inherited the direction gene her brothers took for granted—Zoe pulled up outside the Royal sheriff’s office. Three minutes after that she was back in her car. Turned out the good sheriff was out on a call, but she’d left a message for him to phone her when he got back.

She reprogrammed the GPS and found the midrange motel she’d booked just on the other side of town. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to check in and unpack. She called for updates from her colleagues back in Houston and let them know she’d arrived safely, then decided to take a short walk around town to stretch her legs and familiarize herself.

Royal struck her as a prosperous town with a decent-sized population scurrying about their daily business. Being late afternoon, there were all kinds of people out and about. Business people, moms and kids, a handful of idlers loitering here and there, but overall the place had a good feel about it. She turned and headed back to the motel, her mind still churning over the facts of the case. Just as she reached her unit, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She slipped it out and looked at the screen. Nathan Battle.

“Sheriff, thanks for calling,” Zoe answered.

“Thanks for coming by and letting me know you’re in town. Did you want to meet?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?” she suggested, mentally reviewing her plans for tomorrow morning, which included following up on the lead that had brought her to Royal in the first place.

She heard the flick of paper, followed by a grunt of assent. “Yup, works for me. I’ll meet you at the Royal Diner for coffee and a slice of pie, say, three o’clock?”

Zoe’s stomach growled in response to the mention of food. “Sounds like a plan. See you then.”

That would give her plenty of time to make the drive out to the Stevens ranch in the morning and ask a few questions. Hopefully more than a few. That cryptic message left on Hamm’s answering machine saying no more than “Thanks for nothing, Hamm” had spoken volumes when taking into account the tone of the speaker and the fact that Vincent Hamm had gone missing around the same time. They’d been able to trace the message to a local rancher, Jesse Stevens. Research had shown Stevens and Hamm had been friends at one time, but what had happened to drive them apart? Had it been enough to make Jesse Stevens want to kill his former friend?

Stevens was quite a force here in Royal. The wealthy rancher was very involved in the politics of the local Texas Cattleman’s Club, and while Zoe may be grasping at straws, the fact that her vic had been found in the building currently being developed into a new Cattleman’s Club might not be such a coincidence after all. Right now, she had to look at everything. Pressure from the chief of police and Houston’s mayor was constant, and so far her team had little to show for their investigation. Her captain had pulled her aside just yesterday and asked her if she was getting stale. The question had made her bristle. Stale? When all she did lately was live, eat, sleep and breathe this case? Not likely. But he’d made it clear—he needed to see results or she might be stood down.

Thinking about it, Zoe reached a decision. She didn’t want to wait until morning to go face-to-face with Stevens. She could drive out to his ranch right now. October sunset wasn’t until around seven, which gave her three hours of daylight. Plus, the element of surprise would be in her favor if she just rolled up without an appointment. She opened her map app on her phone and pulled up the address she’d saved for Stevens’s ranch before leaving Houston. The ranch was outside Royal and isolated. Nothing but pasture and cattle. Zoe ignored the itch between her shoulder blades and got into her car, set her phone in the hands-free holder and hit Start on the journey planner.

The drive took longer than she expected, but as she pulled through the gates of Stevens’s ranch she felt a sense of triumphant relief that she had made it. People could tease her all they liked about her reliance on modern technology to get anywhere, but it got the job done, she thought with a small smile.

She was still smiling when she went up the front stairs of the impressive ranch house and knocked on the front door. But her smile slipped when no one came to answer. She knocked again and waited a couple of minutes before walking along the front porch to one of the side windows. She looked in. No movement, nothing. Zoe blew out a huff of frustration. Maybe a phone call would have been a better idea after all. Still, she had a list of his known associates here in Royal and she knew one of them was his neighbor. She walked back to the car and reprogrammed her app to the next address on her list.

This time she struck gold when she knocked at the door of the neighboring ranch, which was no less impressive in size and structure than the Stevens property. She’d always known ranching was a prosperous undertaking when done right, but the two properties she’d been on so far were something else. She plastered a smile on her face and flicked her short dark hair back off her forehead as the steady sound of footsteps coming to the door echoed from the other side.

The words she was about to say dried on the tip of her tongue as the door opened, revealing a tall, imposing presence. While the guy wasn’t heavily muscled, there was no doubting the latent strength in the shoulders that bunched beneath the checkered shirt he wore over a crisp white T-shirt. Zoe’s gaze flicked up—something she wasn’t always used to doing when wearing boots that, combined with her natural height, put her at around six feet. Instantly, her attention was captured by the man’s eyes. Light brown and shot with gold, they were incredibly mesmerizing and were set in a face that was all sharp lines and angles softened by a generous dusting of five o’clock shadow that wrapped his jaw. There was an almost wolflike look to him—as if he were assessing her as prey.

Rather than getting put on the defensive, Zoe found herself reacting on a far more visceral level—each facet of her mind sharpening, while every cell in her body responded with pure feminine interest. A wave of physical need pulled from deep within her, robbing her of breath and making her nipples harden against the lacy cups of her bra. She drew her full lower lip between her teeth to stop herself from making the involuntary sound—something like a moan—that threatened to spill from her.

The man’s hair was wet, as if he’d recently stepped from a shower and just slicked it back—its wet ends kissed the edge of his collar and left a damp trail. She drew in a sharp breath, only to discover how intoxicating the scent of him was. She was shocked at how deeply and suddenly he had affected her. She had trained herself from day one at the police academy not to show her emotions. Good things, bad things—it made no difference. She had learned to remain impassive, detached. But right now, she was anything but detached. In fact, right now, every instinct was screaming at her oversensitized body to plaster itself against his length and take his mouth in a possessive kiss that would leave him in no doubt of how much she wanted him. For a nanosecond she allowed herself the luxury of imagining where that might lead. To their two bodies, glistening with perspiration, tangled in tumbled sheets, gliding together, perhaps? She blinked hard and forced herself under control. This was utter madness. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d reacted to a guy this intensely.

Those intriguing eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and she realized that neither of them had spoken.

“Miss? Can I help you?”

His voice poured over her. Deep and strong and sexy as hell. This guy could recite a list of traffic infringements and make her knees turn to water.

“Detective,” she corrected him, showing him her badge. “Zoe Warren, Houston P.D.”

“You’re a little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you?”

She wasn’t mistaken. The warmth and pure male interest she’d seen reflected in his eyes had dimmed, his gaze sharpening warily.

“The boundaries of our investigation have stretched a little,” she said carefully. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, Mister…?”

“Cord Galicia,” he answered abruptly and thrust out his hand.

Zoe debated taking it. If her reaction to him on a purely visual basis had been so extreme, how on earth would she react when she actually touched him? There was only one way to find out. She drew in a sharp breath, took the proffered hand and clasped it. A slow sizzle of awareness tracked along her skin. His hand was larger than hers, the palm firm, and she could feel the calluses that spoke of the hard work he did. The title of rancher wasn’t simply some token. This man clearly worked, and worked hard. Did he apply himself to everything else he did with as much vigor? she wondered before giving his hand a quick shake and releasing it.

“May I come in?” she asked.

To her surprise, her voice remained steady. Quite a feat when her insides were jangling about as hard as they had in junior high when she’d been asked to prom by the captain of the soccer team. She was already head and shoulders taller than him but it hadn’t bothered her—until she found out the whole thing had been a joke designed by the rest of the team. But that initial response, the delicious sense of anticipation and excitement, she’d never forget. She just never expected to feel it here on the outskirts of Royal, Texas, while working a homicide investigation.

For a moment it looked as if he’d refuse, but then he stepped back from the doorway and gestured for her to move inside. He closed the door decisively behind her, but Zoe didn’t let it rattle her. She’d dealt with people with far fewer social graces than Cord Galicia.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked as he led the way into a large open-plan living room.

“Water would be great, thanks.”

“Take a seat,” he said gruffly before heading through a doorway toward what was, presumably, the kitchen.

Zoe sank into a large leather sofa. In a smaller room the piece of furniture would have dominated, but not here. She looked around, taking in the high raftered ceiling—must be a bitch to keep clean, she pondered—and the tall windows that led to a paved courtyard outside. Large round ceramic pots in a jumble of bright colors, some with mosaics, were filled with flowers, and beyond that Zoe caught a glimpse of the sparkle of late-afternoon sunlight on water. A pool or an ornamental pond? she wondered.

“Here you are.”

Cord Galicia stood before her holding a sweating tall glass of water in one hand. She reached up to take it.

“Thank you.”

The man moved with the stealth of a wild animal, she realized. There weren’t many who could sneak up on her like that.

“You said you had questions,” he said as he settled onto the other end of the sofa.

“Yes, I do. Your neighbor, Jesse Stevens—are you well acquainted?”

She knew the men were best friends, but she was curious to see how Galicia reacted to being questioned. She kept her eyes focused on her host and didn’t miss the way his body stiffened.

“What do you want with Jesse?”

“Please, Mr. Galicia, just answer the question.”

“He’s my neighbor, of course we’re acquainted,” Cord said begrudgingly. “But I don’t see what he has to do with some investigation in Houston.”

“That’s my job,” Zoe said with a grim smile. “Tell me, what’s Mr. Stevens like as a man?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he quick to anger? The type to follow up on a grudge?”

“I don’t like where you’re heading with this. Jesse is a decent man and an upstanding member of our community. If you’re looking at him, you’re looking in the wrong direction.”

Zoe decided to take a different tack. “Do you remember Vincent Hamm?”

“Yeah, he grew up around here. We all did.”

“Were he and Mr. Stevens particularly close?”

Cord shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t say that. Jesse knew him, sure. But we all did. Is that who this is about? Hamm? Look, we were sorry to hear he’d passed, but it’s not like we’ll miss him. Seriously, we haven’t moved in the same circles for years. Like I said, if you’re after Jesse, you’re after the wrong person. He’s the most law-abiding and stand-up person I know.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t immediately jump to believe you. That’s pretty much what everyone says when asked about the people they think they know.”

Two

“Think they know?” Cord didn’t bother to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Since I’ve known the man most of my life, I can safely say I know Jesse Stevens pretty damn well, Ms. Warren.”

“Zoe, please.”

Oh, so she was attempting to play nice now? He let his gaze drift over her. He wouldn’t have minded playing nice with her, if she’d been anything but a cop. She was exactly his type. Long and lean with sweet curves in just the right places. Even her short-cropped dark hair was sexy, and he bet it looked even sexier mussed up against a crisp white cotton-covered pillow. He shifted slightly in his seat as his body reacted in ways his mind was determined not to.

“The fact remains, I know my friend, Zoe,” he said with emphasis. “And you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

She dragged in a deep breath, and he couldn’t help but notice how her fitted shirt strained against the buttons across her chest. Oh yes, sweet curves all right. But off-limits, as was any woman serving in the police force. Cord let his gaze drift to the photo frame sitting on the antique sideboard across the room. Britney. God. Seeing her graduation picture from the police academy every day was a reminder of everything he’d lost. Her death two years ago, while on her first shift of active duty, had been soul destroying, and it was Jesse who’d kept him sane through that awful, dark time.

No, Jesse was not the kind of man to commit murder, and Cord would do whatever he could to ensure Detective Warren knew that. And, he reminded himself as he flicked his gaze back to the woman in front of him, if he ever embarked on a long-term relationship again, it wouldn’t be with a woman who wore a badge and a gun and hunted down bad guys for a living. No matter how much his libido told him otherwise.

“Sometimes we’re not always honest with the people we’re closest to,” she said in an obvious attempt to placate him. “Do you know when would be a good time for me to catch Mr. Stevens at home? I called on him earlier and no one was in.”

“He runs a working ranch, so I guess it’s safe to say there’s never a good time. We have to make the most of the daylight hours available to us,” Cord said, hedging, unwilling to give the woman more information than was absolutely necessary.

“Well, I caught you at home, didn’t I? Mr. Galicia, are you being deliberately obstructive or is this just your charming way of treating all strangers?”

“Obstructive?” Cord felt a trickle of irritation at her insinuation. He wasn’t being obstructive; he was being careful. They were two very different things.

“That’s the usual terminology when someone deliberately withholds information.”

He watched as she picked up her water glass and drained it. Her throat was long and slender, the muscles working delicately as she swallowed her drink. Damn if the sight of that pale column of skin didn’t give him a hard-on. She snapped the glass back onto the table in front of her and rose on those enticingly long legs, then reached into her back pocket for a business card. She handed it to him as he hastened to stand.

“Call me if you suddenly remember how I can best reach Mr. Stevens,” she said with a slight curl of her lip. “I’ll be staying in Royal for a few days.”

“Does the sheriff know you’re in town?”

He could see she wanted to tell him that was none of his business, but instead she gave him a brusque nod.

“Of course,” she said. “He’s assisting in my inquiries.”

Cord nodded. That made sense. The sheriff and the Hamm family went way back. “Maybe he can tell you how to get ahold of Jesse, since he’s assisting you and all.”

He couldn’t resist goading her just a little. It rankled that she’d come out here without any notice on some jumped-up idea that Jesse was involved in Vincent Hamm’s murder. The very thought was ridiculous. Jesse was the kind of guy to always bend over backward to help others, and Cord knew he’d gone the extra mile with Hamm on several occasions. And then the one time Jesse had to ask Hamm for a favor…

A frisson of warning prickled at the back of his mind. Was that what this was about? Had this woman unearthed something about Jesse asking Hamm a favor? A favor Hamm had refused to act on. Was that her angle? That Jesse had somehow been mad enough to exact revenge?

“I’m sure he will. Next time I talk to him, I’ll be certain to get the lowdown on you, too.”

“Me? Hey, you want to know about me, feel free to ask me anything.” Cord spread his arms wide and quirked one corner of his lips up in a smile. “I’m an open book.”

She sniffed. “Thank you for the water. No doubt I’ll be speaking to you again.”

The thought of seeing her again had its merits, but he doubted she meant what he was thinking.

“I’ll look forward to it,” he replied, imbuing into that handful of words enough innuendo to make Ms. Warren stiffen and give him a hard look.

“We’ll see about that.”

He led the way to the front door and watched her as she stepped onto the porch. There was a determined set to her shoulders, and he knew she wouldn’t be deterred by him. One way or another she’d track Jesse down, and Cord didn’t want it to be today. Jesse had enough on his plate with his sister’s emergency surgery today. It had started out as routine to remove an inflamed appendix, but the dang thing had already ruptured, spilling infection through Janet’s body. While she was receiving the best care possible, Jesse was beside himself with worry. Last thing Jesse needed was this detective visiting him in the hospital.

Maybe Cord could appeal to her good will, he thought. Just as the woman reached her grime-covered car, he called out.

“Jesse is at the hospital—that’s why he’s not at home right now. His sister had an operation today. There were complications. He’s been there all day. A decent person would leave him be.”

“Mr. Galicia, are you suggesting I’m not a decent person?” She cocked one brow as she raised the question.

“Well, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” he challenged. “Give him a couple of days at least.”

“And what do you suggest I do in the meantime? Paint my nails?”

He had to hand it to her. She didn’t back down, not one bit. He probably shouldn’t have told her about Jesse being at the hospital, but he’d hoped he could appeal to her sense of compassion. Surely she had one in there somewhere behind that blue-eyed deadpan stare of hers?

“Maybe we could have a drink or a meal somewhere?”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

The incredulity on her face would have been funny if it hadn’t been so insulting.

“Sure, why not?”

For a second or two she looked totally at a loss for words. As a distraction tactic, asking her out clearly had merit, he thought with a quiet twinge of satisfaction. At least it appeared to have stopped her in her stride.

“What about it?” he pressed. “Tonight, just a drink. You can ask me anything you want.”

“I can ask you anything I want anytime I want. I have a badge, remember?”

“What? Are you afraid of spending time with me?”

She snorted. “I’m not afraid of anything, Mr. Galicia. Especially not you. Sure, fine. What time and where?”

“Why don’t I pick you up? Where’re you staying?”

She named the motel.

“How about seven?” he asked, beginning to wonder what in hell he was letting himself in for.

“Seven is good.”

Then, without another word, she got into her car and swung it around the circular driveway and back toward the main road. Cord watched until she went out of sight, then slowly closed the door to his house. His grandmother would have said he’d gone totally loco. Even he didn’t understand fully what had prompted him to make the offer to Detective Warren, aside from the need to protect his best friend from her questioning. He flicked a look at his watch. Jesse said he’d be at the hospital until the nurses kicked him out. It would take the detective about forty minutes to get to town from here, then no doubt she’d want to fluff a bit like women did. She wouldn’t have time to go to the hospital and bother Jesse, but just in case, Cord dragged his cell phone from his back pocket and thumbed a text to his friend.

How’s Janet doing?

She’s holding her own. They’re talking about removing the breathing tube later tonight.

Cord felt a pang for his friend. Janet was the only family he had left, and to say he was protective of his younger sibling was an understatement. This hiccup with what should have been a routine procedure today had surely devastated him.

Good to hear. BTW, Houston detective in town asking questions about Hamm. I’m taking her out for a drink so she doesn’t bother you.

Jesse’s reply was swift.

LOL, taking one for the team? Such hardship. Is she pretty?

Trust his friend to ask the hard questions.

Yeah.

But she’s a cop.

Yeah.

Do you know what you’re doing?

Keeping her away from you, remember.

There was a pause, and Cord began to wonder if that was an end to their conversation, but then his phone pinged again.

Are you sure that’s all?

You know my rules.

Okay. Don’t do anything dumb.

As if. Hey, give Janet my love.

Will do. And let me know how your date goes.

It’s not a date.

She’s pretty. It’s a date.

Cord rolled his eyes before texting his reply.

She’s a cop. It’s not a date. End of story.

He pocketed his phone and went to his room to get ready to head into town. But even as he changed into a good pair of jeans and a fitted shirt and splashed on a little cologne, he couldn’t help but wonder why he was going to so much effort for the woman. Was it because he was trying to keep her distracted and away from Jesse, or was there something more? He snagged his car keys in one hand and headed toward the garage. There was only one way to find out.

Three

Zoe paced the confines of her motel room, wondering why the hell she’d agreed to this—whatever this was—with Cord Galicia. The man exuded pheromones like body odor. Both were equally unwelcome in her book. Galicia had been far too cagey about Stevens, and her own experience had shown that people don’t generally hide something that doesn’t need to be hidden. And even though he had said she could ask him anything she wanted, she doubted that would extend to more information about his neighbor.

She flicked a glance at the digital clock next to the bed. He’d be here any minute. As if she’d conjured him up merely by thinking about him, there was a firm knock at her door. She swung around and checked the peephole. Yup, just as sexy as the first time, she thought. She forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath before unlatching the chain and opening the door.

Even with the distance of a couple of hours, he still packed the same punch. She’d never met a man before who had made her feel so darn feminine. She wanted to say she didn’t like it, but there was something about the way the blood in her veins fizzed when he was around that she had to admit wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Good evening,” Galicia said, then bowed with a flourish. “Your chariot awaits.”

“We’re not walking?” she asked, stepping through the door and carefully locking it behind her.

“Nah, the place I’m taking you is on the other side of town.”

“If you’d have said, I’d have met you there.”

“What’s the matter, Detective? Don’t you trust me?”

She snorted. “I can handle you.”

He gave her a sharp look that made her draw in a hasty breath. It was clear his mind had gone straight below the waist. Come to think of it, so had hers. Instead of giving in to the sudden roar of heat that flamed from deep inside her, she narrowed her gaze at him.

“Well, where’s this chariot?”

He laughed, the sound a deep rumble that hit straight to her solar plexus. A delicious, lazy sound better suited to a bedroom than a parking lot beside a B-grade motel.

“Over here.”

He gestured toward a classic F-150, and as they drew nearer, he opened the passenger door for her. She eyed the antique surface of the truck. Clearly left to go to rack and ruin at some point, the vehicle had been restored, but the paintwork remained aged and patchy—almost as if the rust was a badge of honor.

“Ranching not going so well?” she asked, casting an obvious eye over the multicolored hood.

“Let’s just say I appreciate the patina of time. It’s been treated and clear coated. A testament to the age and longevity of the beast.”

Zoe cast him a sideways glance. A somewhat romantic statement from a man who made his living from the land and the animals upon it. Eschewing further comment, she climbed up onto the front seat and waited while he closed her door and stepped around to the driver’s side. The cab had seemed so spacious until he swung up beside her. Then his shoulders were suddenly too close to hers and the cologne he wore wove around her on subtle waves of body heat. She turned her head to the window, but it was no good. Her senses were powerfully attuned to him. She didn’t need to see him to know that his leather jacket was so soft and worn that it fitted his shoulders like a second skin, or that the crisp denim of his jeans pulled across his hips when he sat at the wheel.

She also knew that no matter where she was, she’d never again smell that scent and not think of him. Of the raw masculinity he exuded in his simple stance, or the latent power in his hands, the teasing in his eyes, the sardonic curl of his lip. She gave herself a mental shake. What the hell was she doing, thinking of him in these terms? Right now, he was someone of interest in her inquiries. Someone to question, not drool over. She was not that weak nor that vulnerable.

But it had been a while since she’d been intimate with anyone, and, she reminded herself bluntly, a woman had needs. Needs, it seemed, that were hell-bent on distracting her from her job. Well, she owed it to her victim to get to the bottom of who was behind his murder—and to bring them to justice.

They hadn’t driven long before Galicia pulled up the truck outside a small hotel.

“This is us,” he said, getting out of the truck and walking around to her side.

To preempt him opening her door, she did it herself and dropped down onto the pavement. She’d keep her distance from him, get whatever information she needed and then she’d be on her way. She didn’t want to stay here in Royal any longer than necessary. It might be a thriving town, it might even be civilized, but it wasn’t her city. These weren’t her people. Especially not the tall, commanding figure walking beside her as they entered the hotel and headed toward the bar.

If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a brief flare of approval in his eyes. Not that she cared. She wasn’t here to impress him. He gave her a brief nod and put a hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the bar. As they entered, he gestured to one side of the room.

“We’ll sit over there.”

She noted he made it a gentle order, not a suggestion. Okay, so he thought he was in charge. It was his turf. She’d play his game. For now.

“What’s your poison?” Galicia asked as they reached their seats. “No, wait, let me guess.”

She played along, watching as he stroked his chin and eyed her thoughtfully.

“Something frilly to counteract the tough-cop act.”

“I assure you, it’s no act—and you’d be wrong. I’ll have a beer.”

She couldn’t help but notice the attention paid to him by the waitress who hurried over to take their order, but aside from a polite “thanks,” he paid the woman no heed. Instead, he kept his searing focus very firmly on Zoe. The waitress was back in a moment, two chilled glasses and two ice-cold longneck lagers on her tray. She set the drinks onto the table in front of them.

“So, Cord, did you want these on your tab or—” the waitress started.

“I’ll take care of them,” Zoe said, flicking some bills from her pocket and dropping them onto the woman’s tray. “Keep the change.”

The waitress looked from Cord to Zoe and back again, Obviously she wasn’t used to Cord’s dates picking up the tab. She left as Cord picked up a beer, poured it into Zoe’s glass and did the same for himself.

“You’re quick,” Cord said with a quirk of his lips. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“I pay my way.”

“Gender equality and all that?”

“You drove, I bought the first round. Gender equality has nothing to do with it.” She arched a brow at him as he chuckled softly. “Are you deliberately trying to irritate me? Because if so, you’ll find I’m hard to put off.”

“I’m definitely not trying to put you off.”

He smiled again, the movement of his lips sending a sucker punch to her gut. How did he manage to have such a strong effect on her? This was crazy. She’d been out with plenty of men, had relationships with a few, but she’d never felt this intense, visceral response before. It made her feel vulnerable, as if she were cast slightly adrift, and she didn’t like it one bit. Determined to maintain the upper hand, she took charge of the conversation.

“So, how long have you lived around Royal?” she asked.

“Ah, the inquisition continues,” he drawled. He sat back in his chair, hooking one arm over the back, and gazed at her through narrowed eyes.

“Inquisition?”

“Yeah, it’s what you do, isn’t it? Grill people?”

“Like dressed in black leather with torture implements and stuff like that?”

His lips quirked again, sending a spiral of sensation curling through her lower body. Oh, that mouth. How would it feel against hers? How would he taste?

“I could see you in that getup.”

She snorted a laugh. “In your dreams, buster. So, back to my question. How long have you lived here?”

His nostrils flared on an indrawn breath. “Am I wet off the back of the truck, do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes. He was needling her, twisting her words to sound like a veiled insult. That might be the angle some of her colleagues would have taken, given there was no mistaking Galicia’s Mexican heritage. But she was not that kind of person. In fact, none of her family was.

“Look, I asked you a simple question. You’re being deliberately evasive again.” She lifted her glass and took a long sip of her beer, relishing the bite of hoppy flavor as it rolled over her tongue and down her throat. “I’m not sure what you call conversation in this neck of Texas, but where I come from, when we meet a person, we chat, ask questions. Y’know, get to know one another.”

He nodded slowly. “We have similar customs here.”

She fought back a laugh. “I wouldn’t have guessed it. Maybe it’d help if I went first? I’m Houston born and raised. Youngest of five. Third-generation cop. Your turn.”

“Royal born and raised. Only child. My grandparents came here, bought land, ranched it, expanded the ranch. My father took over, did more of the same.”

She nodded. “And you? Still expanding?”

He shrugged. “Not in land, more in better ways to use it.”

She sat back in her chair and felt herself relax as he began to open up and discuss a little of how he planned to diversify his business operations. She let his voice roll over her, enjoying the timbre and the slow, measured way in which he spoke. She gestured to the waitress for two more beers.

“Let me get those,” he said.

“If you insist,” she acceded.

Once the drinks were on their table, she decided to turn the conversation back to her investigation.

“So, you and Jesse Stevens. You guys grew up together?”

“Yeah. And he’s not the man you’re looking for.”

Ha, so much for softening him up and then pouncing with a question, Zoe admitted to herself with a measure of reluctance. Cord Galicia may have relaxed with her, but it didn’t mean his mind wasn’t as alert as a fox’s.

“Why are you protecting him?”

“Protecting him?” Cord laughed. “Nope, I’m just saving you time.”

“You realize I have to question him.”

“Why? Is my word not good enough?” Galicia challenged her.

She saw the latent anger that simmered beneath the surface. Was it because she wanted to question his friend, or because she was impugning his honor by not accepting his word?

“I’m sure your word is just fine.” She sighed. “But that’s not how we conduct an investigation.”

Silence stretched between them, and for a moment Zoe thought the evening was over. She felt a pang of regret. If she’d met this man under any other circumstances, then maybe they could have explored this simmering attraction that burned between them. She watched Galicia’s face carefully, but he gave nothing away. Eventually, he leaned forward and put his hand out.

“How about a truce, then?” he suggested.

“A truce? I didn’t know we were at war.”

“Oh, we’re at something, but I’m not quite sure what it is yet. How about, while we find out, we agree that you won’t ask me anything about Jesse and then I won’t need to stonewall you?”

She hesitated a moment before taking his hand. If she did this, she was opening herself up for a whole lot of trouble. She could feel it in her gut. But then again, what was life if it meant not taking risks? She reached out her hand and felt a surge of awareness the moment their palms touched. He felt it, too; she could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t smiling now; in fact, he looked serious—serious about her.

Her inner muscles clenched on a wave of pure lust. Right now, she wanted to do nothing more than lean across their table, sweep their drinks aside and reach for him, then drag his face to hers and plant her lips on his mouth in a deep, drugging kiss that would hopefully assuage some of this crazy pent-up tension he manifested in her.

Instead, she jerked her hand free and reached for her beer, downing half of it. When she looked back at Galicia, amusement reflected back at her in his gaze and she knew, in that instant, he was dangerous. Maybe not in the criminal sense of the word, but certainly in terms of her equilibrium.

She was a long, tall streak of trouble. He knew that as surely as he knew the head count of his herd. But he couldn’t leave her alone. Even now, after that stupid handshake, he wanted to touch her again—and not just her hand. He wanted to see if those pert breasts he could see pushing against the fabric of her shirt would fit neatly into the palms of his hands. He wanted to trace the cord of her throat with his lips and his tongue, to taste her and inhale the very essence of her.

Damn, but she did things to him that twisted his gut in knots without even trying. Which meant he had to be doubly careful. He was breaking every single one of his own rules by taking her out tonight. Still, it wasn’t as if he was going to marry her or anything dumb like that, he told himself. He was distracting her. Keeping her away from Jesse. She had no business with his friend, and the sooner she realized that and returned to Houston, the sooner he could get back to his normal life. Thank goodness things were a little quieter on the ranch right now. The calves had been dried out and had regained condition. His pastures were under control and his hands were onto the usual maintenance required before winter set in. He had time to spare and he’d make sure he used it well.

“Say, you want to grab a burger or something?” Cord asked before finishing off his beer.

“I could eat a burger,” Zoe admitted.

“C’mon, the Royal Diner makes the best burgers in the state.”

“That’s quite a claim,” she said, rising from her seat.

“It’s no claim. It’s a fact,” he boasted.

Putting his hand at the small of her back again, he guided her to the door. He liked the way she moved, all smooth and lithe, her gait a match for his own. His mind flashed in an instant to how they would move together—on a dance floor, between the sheets of his extra wide bed. Damn if he didn’t get a hard-on. He reminded himself that this wasn’t just about him. This was about keeping Zoe Warren away from his best friend.

Cord knew Jesse had been in touch with Hamm before Hamm’s tragic death. He also knew Jesse had been fired up about the guy. If Zoe figured that out, she’d likely put two and two together and make whatever the hell she wanted out of it. There was no way Jesse had killed Hamm. He might have been mad at the guy, but violence had never been Jesse’s style, not even when truly provoked.

They reached the truck, and he held her door for her. She brushed by so close he could smell the scent of her shampoo or whatever it was she’d used in her hair. It made him want to lean in and inhale more deeply. To touch her short black hair and see if he could tangle his fingers in it as he brought her face to his. He must have made a sound, because Zoe stopped midway getting into the truck.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Never better.”

“Hmm.”

She swung up, giving him an all-too-brief glimpse of her sweet butt showcased in dark denim. He closed the door firmly and went around to his side, all the while wondering what on earth he’d let himself in for.

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