Slow Hand Luke

“I really appreciate you stopping,” she said, after staring at him for too long. “I’d been standing there a while.”

He looked over at her, almost as if he’d forgotten that she was sitting there. How flattering. Then he gave her a lazy, sexy smile and all was forgotten. “No problem, darlin’. Happy to help a pretty lady in distress.”

“Oh, brother.”

He cocked a brow at her.

She coyly put a hand to her mouth. “Oops. Did I say that out loud?”

His lips curved and then he laughed, a full rich sound that resonated in the cab of the truck and warmed her in uncomfortably intimate places.

She turned back to the road and gripped the dashboard. “Look out!”

Caught by the headlights, a deer stood frozen in the middle of the road. Luke swerved, but clipped the animal on the hind end. It started to dart but fell to the pavement.

“Shit!” He stopped the truck, threw it into Park and got out.

The doe got to her feet and then dropped her hind end again.

Annie climbed out behind Luke who’d already knelt beside the animal.

“Steady, girl,” he whispered. “Let’s take a look here.”

The deer jerked, and tried again to get up.

“What can I do?” Annie asked.

He ignored her, his attention solely on the doe. He gently touched the animal’s flank and whispered something Annie couldn’t hear. The doe seemed to calm down enough for him to probe her leg, his large tanned hand stroking the area, prompting a surprisingly lusty reaction from Annie.

His fingers were long and lean, his nails clean and nicely squared off. Easy to imagine them roaming over a woman’s body. Her body. She cleared her throat.

At the sound, the doe started. Then she leaped to her feet and darted into the trees.

Luke got up just as suddenly, and Annie didn’t have time to step out of his way. To keep them from colliding, she put a hand on his shoulder. As he straightened, her palm slid down his forearm. Firm rounded muscles lay beneath the blue Western-cut shirt. The man was definitely athletic. She let go, hoping her reluctance didn’t show too much.

He dusted his jeans and stared after the deer even though she’d disappeared. “She’s bruised a little, but stunned more than anything else. She’ll be okay.” He lifted his hat and swept a hand through his longish sun-streaked hair before setting the hat back on his head. “If she stays off the road, that is.”

Annie followed him back to the truck. “That was amazing how she calmed down for you.”

“She knew I was no threat.”

“How?”

He put the truck back in drive. “Around these parts, I’m known as the deer whisperer.”

“Really?”

After a brief silence, he burst out laughing. “Where are you from?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Damn it. She was a good cop because of her good instincts. No one would ever dare consider her gullible. “And here I was just starting to think you were a nice guy.”

“Don’t make that mistake.” He stretched his neck from side to side, grimacing with the effort, and then tipped his hat back slightly. “We’ll be hitting town in a couple of minutes. Guess you want to go straight to your aunt’s place.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Nope. You got any folks there that can give you a ride in to town tomorrow?”

Annie rested her aching head back against the seat. Today had been only her third time on a plane. She hated it. Way too stressful. After today, if she never left New York again that would be fine with her. “I don’t think so. Maybe Chester.”

Luke let out a laugh. “That old buzzard’s still kicking, huh?”

Annie snorted. “What a nice way to put it.”

He shrugged his good shoulder. “I’ve known the old guy since I was knee high to a mule. He and my granddad used to play cards every Saturday night. Made me fetch their beer and chewing tobacco when they ran out.”

“Is that where you’re going? To visit your grandfather?”

His mouth tightened. “He passed almost a year ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

Luke gave an abrupt nod, then made it clear he didn’t want to talk anymore by rolling down his window and staring hard off into the darkness. “I’m gonna make a quick detour. Won’t take but a minute.”

She should have been scared, or at least concerned. She didn’t know this man. But her gut told her it was okay and she always trusted her gut. Except when it came to men and it was personal—then her instincts sucked. The fiasco with Steve Witherspoon was proof enough.

They turned down a dark side road, mostly gravel judging by the crunching of the tires. But they’d only driven a few feet when Luke stopped the truck and muttered a soft curse.

“What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head, he squinted hard toward the glow of a faint light filtering through the trees. Without a word, he threw the truck into Reverse and sped backward all the way to the main road.

She clutched the armrest and held her breath. It was so dark. Only a sliver of moon was visible. He couldn’t possibly see where he was going. He swung backward onto the highway and her stomach lurched. And tourists complained about NewYork cabbies.

“What is going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, I could tell.” After nearly sliding off the seat, she straightened. He ignored her, keeping his eyes steady on the road, his mind obviously preoccupied.

She respected his apparent need for silence, but another careless move like that and she’d get out and walk. And then he could have all the silence he wanted.

As soon as her heart-rate returned to normal, she focused on the task ahead of her. Halfway through the small town she realized where they were. It was easy to miss without any lights on. In fact, there wasn’t even a single streetlight.

“Man, the place hasn’t changed a bit,” Luke murmured with a hint of disdain.

“How long has it been since you’ve been back?”

“A while.”

Annie didn’t push. God knew she understood if he didn’t want to talk about his family. Now that she was older, it didn’t smart as much but, as a child, when the subject of parents came up, all she wanted to do was crawl into a dark corner and hide. How did you tell other kids or their parents that your dad was a drunk and spent more time in jail than out? Or have to confess that your mother hadn’t wanted to be a mother after all, and had run off to Hollywood to seek the fame that she never found?

“You’re quiet,” Luke said finally.

“I didn’t think you wanted to talk.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re here.”

She sat up straighter and peered into the darkness. A red reflector on the mailbox pole caught her eye. Other than that, there was no indication this was her aunt’s place, or that any house existed nearby. But catching sight of a funny shaped tree that was briefly illuminated by the headlights helped her recognize the place.

The first summer she’d visited the ranch she’d gotten in trouble for swinging on its lower branches. She’d fallen and sprained her right ankle, and scared Aunt Marjorie senseless.

The truck hit a pothole and Annie’s teeth came down hard on her lower lip. She bit back an oath and then kept her teeth clamped shut. In less than a minute they got to the gate, which seemed pointless since the fencing had come down in at least three places, but that’s all Annie could see.

A floodlight coming from the eaves of the barn cast a dim light on the gravel road that led to the house. Everything looked horribly dingy, and Annie prayed it was because of the poor lighting. It had to be. Aunt Marjorie had money. She’d paid for Annie’s college tuition. Her books. The dorm. She’d paid for everything.

The closer they got to the house, the deeper Annie’s heart sank. The place was a mess. Lighting had nothing to do with the sagging front porch or the chipped white paint that had once made the railings and picket fence seem like part of a fairy tale to Annie’s bruised young heart.

“How long has she been in the hospital?” Luke asked as he stopped the truck in front of the cracked walk.

Annie sighed. “I had no idea that—Oh!” But she would have, if she hadn’t been so self-absorbed. Aunt Marjorie was almost eighty-five. She couldn’t take care of the place, not with only Chester’s help. But why hadn’t she hired more hands? Had she blown all her savings on Annie? The thought made Annie sick. Bile rose in her throat.

“You okay?”

She turned to find him watching her. Unfortunately, what little light there was shone on their faces. “Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate this,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

He peered closer, frowning, and then touched the side of her jaw, forcing her to turn her chin toward him. “What happened here?”

Reflexively, she jerked away from his touch and felt her chin. “What?”

“Here.” He touched the corner of her mouth and his finger came away with a blood smear.

“Oh, the pothole. I bit my lip.”

He grimaced. “Sorry, darlin’. I was trying to take it easy.”

“It’s nothing.” Hell, she’d even been shot once. The bullet had only grazed her, but she still had a small scar on her thigh.

“You just wait now.” He drew his finger across her lip. “I don’t want Chester coming at me with a shotgun.”

Her gaze was drawn to the curve of his mouth, the way his shadowed chin dimpled ever so slightly. His voice was so low and intimate that she had to swallow before speaking.

“Aunt Marjorie said he still sleeps in the bunkhouse.” Her voice came out a whisper, the innocent words sounding, even to her, like an invitation. But once they were uttered, she held her breath waiting for his response.

“Well, then how are you gonna get in the house short of waking him up?” He’d moved his hand away from her mouth but kept his arm resting along the back of the seat.

“I know where the key’s hidden.”

“Ah, the hidden key.” He grinned, his teeth gleaming, his hat hiding his eyes. His beard-rough skin almost disguised the scar that curved up the side of his jaw.

“Well, thanks again for the lift.” She pulled the door handle but it wouldn’t move.

He leaned across her with his left arm, his chest brushing her breasts, his rough chin grazing her skin, and he jerked the handle. “Gets stuck sometimes,” he said, his mouth close enough to hers that, if she moved a fraction of an inch, they’d touch. Then he pushed the door open, his arms practically encircling her. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, and held still as he unhurriedly drew back, the warmth of his breath lingering seductively on her cheek. When she could finally breathe, she slid out of the truck.

Luke got out, too, and grabbed her bag.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m not letting you walk into a dark house unescorted. Now, you go on and find that key. I’ll turn my back if you want.”

She snorted, tempted to tell him she was a Brooklyn cop and could take care of herself. But part of her didn’t want him to leave, or want to find out that he was one of those guys who ran from the uniform. Not that it mattered. He’d be gone in a matter of minutes. So, what would it hurt if she let him walk her inside? Let him think she was scared. So what?

Luke kept the truck’s headlights on while she climbed the rickety front steps, carefully sidestepping a rotting board. She found the key taped under a carved wooden blue jay perched on top of a homemade bird feeder, just where Aunt Marjorie said it would be. The lock stuck at first but, after jiggling it, the door opened, and she found the porch light switch.

As bad as the place initially looked, under the light the appalling amount of disrepair sickened Annie. Not just cosmetic stuff, either. The porch was actually sagging in the middle, frighteningly near where Aunt Marjorie kept her scarred oak rocking chair.

“Looks like Mrs. Walker’s been sick for a while.” Luke had come up behind her.

Embarrassed to admit she didn’t know, Annie reached for her bag. “Really, I can take it from here. I don’t want to inconvenience you any more than I already have.”

He held the bag out of her reach and gave her a crooked smile. “You wouldn’t be trying to get rid of me now, would you?”

“Yes.”

Surprise lifted his brows and he laughed. “That’s just too bad,” he said then carried the bag into the house.

It took Annie a moment to follow. His reaction surprised her, and she wasn’t sure how to take his persistence. But her eyes helplessly kept pace with him. He was one fine looking man.

She pulled herself together and caught up with him in the living room. The sight of the worn blue carpet and faded upholstered furniture brought her back to reality. She swallowed hard. Only two years ago, Aunt Marjorie had sent her a check toward graduate school tuition. Annie had refused at first but her aunt had insisted, claiming that she had nothing else to spend her money on.

Annie muttered a curse under her breath. How could she have been so selfish? If she’d only taken the time to visit in the past five years….

“Hey.”

She looked at Luke. “What?”

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Right.” He looked around, then held up the bag. “Where do you want me to put this?”

“Anywhere.” She shook her head. “I’ll take it.” The place was worn but couldn’t be neater. The least she could do was to keep it that way.

He let go of the bag but she didn’t like the way he studied her, as if trying to figure out what was going on inside her head. “I sure could use something cold to drink,” he said before she could figuratively show him the door.

“I’m not sure what’s available—”

“Water would be fine.”

She could hardly refuse. She set the bag on the brown corduroy recliner and started to go right, and then realized the kitchen was the other way. He followed, not bothering to hide his interest in the place, checking out the chipped windowsills and cracked kitchen linoleum.

Silly for her to take it personally, but she did. By the time she got to the refrigerator, her annoyance had escalated. She owed him something to drink at the very least. Maybe she should even offer him some money for his time, and then she’d politely explain that she was exhausted. Anybody would get the hint and leave.

She found some orange juice and a jug of iced tea, and then she got out a tray of ice. It took a couple of tries before she found the cupboard that held glasses, a collection of mismatched tumblers and a set of tall pastel plastic ones. She heard a funny click and turned around.

Luke stood there with the blade of his army knife extended toward her.

3

A NNIE’ S GAZE FIXED on the knife. “What are you doing?”

Too late, Luke realized how it must look. He picked up the kitchen chair and turned it upside down. “This thing is a little shaky. Figure it needed some tightening.”

“Oh.” She blinked, then looked at him with relief in her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help.” This setup was perfect. Luke smiled at Annie. She was cute in an earthy sort of way. With her long untamed brown hair and wide hazel eyes with barely any makeup, she reminded him of a girl he’d hung out with in high school, in fact the only dark-haired girl he’d ever dated. And that had been only the once. After going to a movie, and then making out under the bleachers at the football stadium, they’d ended up being more like buddies. Until he’d skipped town.

He finished the task of tightening two of the legs, his mind racing. Obviously he couldn’t go back to his granddad’s ranch. Seabrook’s hired guns shouldn’t have figured it out and found the place so quickly. Luke had underestimated them. But staying in a motel around these parts was out of the question. He might as well take out an ad in the local paper telling them where he was. Yet he needed to stay close, to find a way to get to Joanne.

Annie Corrigan didn’t know it yet, but she was the answer to his problem. He set the chair to rights and smiled at her. “Have a seat, darlin’.”

Frowning slightly, she set a glass of what looked like apple juice on the table, or maybe it was Scotch. Either one was all right with him. “You go ahead,” she said.

“Anything wrong?” He removed his hat and set it on the table as he slid onto the chair.

“What? Oh, no, I was just—it’s nothing.”

He nodded, picked up the glass, smelled the apple juice and sipped its icy sweetness. He’d have much preferred scotch or better yet, beer, but for now, he needed to keep a wholesome impression. “You know if Chester’s still driving?”

“Not a clue.” She poured herself a glass, and he helped himself to a good look at the generous curve of her backside.

He looked up as soon as she turned around. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll get that car of yours out of the ditch.”

She looked torn. “I don’t want to inconvenience you any more than—”

“You can cook me breakfast. How’s that?”

She sighed, briefly closing her eyes and rubbing her right temple. “Then you’ll have to take me to the store to get groceries, and I’ll owe you again.”

Like hell, he’d go into town. He smiled. “Cheer up.”

“Right.” Her gaze went from the cracked linoleum floor to the yellow refrigerator that had to be over fifteen years old. “Have you taken a good look at this place?”

“Not your responsibility, is it?”

“Uh, yeah, it is, sort of,” she said, abruptly looking away. “It’s complicated.”

“So you’re gonna be fixing it up?”

She turned back to him, her lips parting, but nothing came out. Her shoulders sagged, and finally she said, “Yes.”

“Then you’re in luck. Just so happens I’m between jobs. For room and board, I’m all yours.”

“Really?”

“Do with me as you please, ma’am.”

Her lips twitched. “That’s quite an offer.”

Luke smiled. “You don’t know the half of it.”

She breathed in, her breasts expanding beneath her thin white cotton shirt. “Are you sure about this? It seems like the place needs an awful lot of work.”

“I can’t promise to get it all done, but I’ll do what I can in the next ten days.”

“Fair enough. But I insist on paying you something, as well.”

“No need. A roof over my head and grub in my belly is plenty.”

She frowned suddenly. “Wait a minute. You have a place near here.”

“Yeah, well, the thing is…” He cleared his throat. He knew the question was bound to come up, but he didn’t have an easy answer without sounding like a whipped dog. “I haven’t been back for a while, and the place is a mess.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to concentrate on getting your place in shape?”

He scrubbed at his face. How many questions was this woman gonna ask?

“Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the help…” Curiosity brought out the golden flecks in her eyes.

“Look, when I say I haven’t been back in a while, I’m talking a long time,” he muttered and saw that her interest hadn’t died any. “It’s complicated,” he said, echoing her earlier words.

She sat there quietly for a moment, her thoughts clearly somewhere else, and then said, “Got it.” She stuck out her hand. “You have a deal.”

He stared at her hand for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the gesture, but damn, he didn’t know any women who shook hands. They hugged, they kissed, some of them even pinched his ass, but they didn’t shake hands. Not that this was a bad thing. Just different.

“Um, something wrong?”

“Nope.” He slid his palm against her warm soft flesh. “Deal.”

“Good.”

Neither of them moved for several moments. She withdrew her hand first, took a quick sip of the juice she’d poured for herself and then got up.

He leaned back in the chair and watched her. Staying here with her wouldn’t be a hardship. No, sir. She was on the thin side, with small breasts, but that nice round backside more than made up for anything lacking up front. Not that he was an ass man. He just liked women, period. Always found something nice about each and every one of them. Got him in trouble enough times, that was for sure.

She turned suddenly, but he didn’t think she’d caught him checking her out. He hadn’t been that obvious. She opened the refrigerator again and then one of the cupboards. “You must be hungry,” she said, and went to another cupboard that was almost as bare as the first. “Let’s see. Canned peaches, more canned peaches and…” She got up on tiptoes to see what was on the back of the second shelf, and then sighed. “I hope you like canned peaches.”

Luke smiled. “I stopped at a store on the way over and bought some stuff for sandwiches. They’re in the cooler in the back of my truck.” He got to his feet. “I’ll go get it.”

“Go ahead and take it to the bunkhouse with you.”

“The bunkhouse?”

“Yeah.”

“Darlin’, I’m not sleeping in the bunkhouse. I’m sleeping here with you.”

“With me?” Her eyebrows arched in amusement. “You think so?”

He tried not to smile. He didn’t mean it like it sounded. He just wanted to stay in the house. “I’m cheap labor. Don’t I deserve a nice soft bed?”

She leaned a hip against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m sure Chester can accommodate you.”

“Come on now, darlin’.”

Her expression tightened. “Don’t take this wrong, okay, but I—”

“I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t blame you for mistrusting me. A girl can’t be too careful and all that, but if I’d wanted to—”

“I’m not worried that you’re going to attack me,” Annie said, cutting him off. “I simply don’t like you calling me darlin’.”

“Why?”

She looked at him as if he’d crawled out from under a rock. “It’s demeaning.”

He thought for a moment. Hell, nowadays you couldn’t call them ma’am or darlin’ without getting your head bitten off. “Well, I figured I knew what that word meant, but now I’m not so sure. Just trying to be friendly is all.” He gave her his winning smile, she only rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should be more worried about letting a strange man into the house alone with you.”

She laughed. “Trust me. I can take care of myself,” she said, watching him closely. Too closely for his liking. “I’m a cop. A New York police officer. Brooklyn to be exact.”

That took the wind out of him. “A cop?”

She nodded.

“A cop,” he repeated, mostly to himself, hoping this was a really bad joke.

“Yep. Sergeant Annie Corrigan.”

Damn.

“Y OU FIND THAT no-good son of a bitch yet?”

Sheriff Jethro Wilcox held the cell phone away from his ear. Ernest Seabrook was loud enough when he wasn’t pissed off and, for the past two days, the man had been madder than a rutting buck without a doe.

“Not yet, Mr. Seabrook, but I figure he’ll show up at his granddaddy’s old ranch soon enough.”

“Soon enough?” Seabrook hollered. “Soon enough? Yesterday couldn’t have been goddamn soon enough. You understanding me, Jethro?”

“Yes, sir.” No use pointing out that was merely a figure of speech. The old man was as hardheaded as he was obnoxious, but he paid mighty well and it wouldn’t serve any purpose to piss him off further.

“You get me my million bucks, you hear? And you bring me that son of a bitch.”

No kidding. Why else would he be sitting out here by the McCall ranch, sweating like a pig in the heat and humidity near a mosquito-infested pond? “Yes, sir.” One of the critters buzzed near his ear. He swatted, missed and cursed.

“What did you say to me, boy?” Seabrook’s voice came out in an angry wheeze and then he started coughing. More than likely caused by the stinky cigars he was always smoking.

Wilcox smiled. “Nothing, Mr. Seabrook. Just getting eaten alive by these friggin’ mosquitoes.”

“Well, the sooner you find Luke McCall, the sooner you can go home.” Seabrook severed the connection.

Wilcox flipped his cell closed and slipped it into the breast pocket of his uniform shirt. He could go home any time he damn well pleased. Technically he didn’t work for Seabrook, but he’d gotten himself knee-deep in debt to the bastard, which, around these parts, pretty much meant Seabrook owned his ass.