Arrested Page 2

  The Sheriff's large hands assailed her once again, their touch like tortuous fire as they slowly searched her body. Kirsten squeezed her eyes shut as he patted her down, sure his determined fingers grazing across her hips and legs would drive her insane. Jolts of desire flashed to her breasts and groin, dampening her with desire. Kirsten bit her lip a little harder as embarrassment rushed to her cheeks.

  For Christ's sake, she'd recently left the biggest jerk of all time. What was wrong with her? She'd just met this man, yet her body felt more alive than it had in years. How could she be responding to a stranger like this?

  Her mind willed her body to turn off, but it continued to fill with need as he moved his fingers around her ankles, running his calloused fingers inside the hem of her anklet socks. Delicate skin collided against his coarse touch, setting off a million tiny fireworks. Everything in Kirsten prickled, angry at the invasion. It took all her willpower not to kick him in the face right then and there.

  Finally, he stopped and stepped back. Relief hit her, laced with a traitorous disappointment. In spite of her fear, she actually enjoyed his touch. She wanted more of it, though she loathed the very thought. Disgusted, Kirsten directed her anger right where it belonged—on him.

  He had no right to touch her like that, so ... so ... deliberately.

  Kirsten whirled around, prepared to give the Sheriff a good piece of her mind. Her face collided with the expanse of his solid chest. For a moment she stared, her breath caught in her throat. Muscles pulled at the tight white tee shirt. Through its thin fabric, tiny black hairs curled against built pecs. A hint of its dark trail across his flat, tight stomach teased her with the notion of where it led. The urge to reach up and tear away the cloth barrier pulsed through her, and blinded her with the image of what she would find. With a gulp, she stepped back, her retreat halted by the Blazer.

  There was no escaping him. Kirsten slowly pulled her gaze up his length, unconsciously drinking in every detail of his height. At first, she'd seen nothing but her fear, but now she saw the man.

  Paralyzed, she continued to drink up the sight of the dark and dangerous sheriff who towered over her. Whiskers shadowed his steel jaw like black sandpaper against his leathery-bronzed skin. Deep chocolate eyes, framed by thick black lashes met hers, his hard gaze an obvious challenge.

  No doubt, his rough and tough looks were tantalizing. The Sheriff was one hot cowboy.

  And she embarrassed herself. She snapped her jaw shut, than reopened it to make her demand. “Listen, Sir, I'm not sure what kind of redneck bullshit this is, but I did not steal this car. It's mine. All mine. Uncuff me now, and I won't press charges."

  With a cold look he ignored her, bending down to pick up his cowboy hat, which must have fallen during their scuffle. Kirsten swallowed at the sight of his tight rear against form-fitting Levi's, firm and sculpted, as if it had been chiseled from stone. Everything in her told her to reach out and take a squeeze, to feel him, as he'd felt her.

  He stood, and she forced herself to shake away the naughty thoughts. She needed to get herself out of these handcuffs, not into his bed. “My lawyer won't be pleased. He could tear a tiny town like this in two."

  His full lips carved into a sarcastic smile that hardly budged his cheeks. “Lady, I'm doing my job. Sorry, can't let you go, won't let you go, and not a one of your nasty comments or threats will make the darnedest difference. We might be a small town, but we follow the law. You city folk should try it."

  "Oh, come on. How do I even know you're a real cop?"

  He flicked a silver badge pinned to the pocket of his white tee shirt. “Sheriff Reid Walker, Ma'am. Pleased to meet you."

  "You've got to be kidding.” Kirsten rolled her eyes. Christ, it was like something out of an old western movie. Next he'd pull out his six shooters and whistle for his sidekick.

  "Nope."

  "Come on, dammit, it's my car. My boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, gave it to me for my birthday this June."

  "Would that be a Mister Kurt Black?"

  "Yes! Yes, exactly. Look in my purse, you'll see. Why else would I have everything from credit cards to health insurance identification in his name? It's my car, that's why. He gave it to me."

  The sheriff shook his head, and strode over to her car with quick paces. Tightly muscled legs pulled against his jeans as he moved and Kirsten found herself imagining the knotted strength in them, their rippled mass covered in tiny black hairs, thicker higher on his thighs, dark and manly. Then her gaze darted up to a bulge of power between his legs.

  Stop it! She inwardly chastised herself, unable to tear her eyes away from him. Had she gone insane? For heaven's sake, the man had her in handcuffs and all she could do was check him out and drip with desire.

  As much as she wanted to turn her back right now, and blind herself from the sight of him, she wouldn't have him rooting through her car unsupervised. Eyes narrowed, she watched his movements with steel need. The sheriff reached into her car and Snowball chose that moment to finally show himself. Why he hadn't jumped out of the car long ago amazed Kirsten. Usually he leapt to protect her.

  Snowball bounded from the floorboard where her purse lay to pounce right on the sheriff. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him attacking before she realized he wasn't defending her at all. Quite the contrary, Snowball covered the cop's face with licks while he yapped a greeting.

  "Snowball, stop it!” She yelled at her traitorous pet. She'd never seen Snowball so friendly with any man. “Get down, Snowball. Right now."

  "It's okay. Nice dog.” The sheriff held up her purse and waved the thin black bag. “Got your permission, Ma'am?"

  "Yes,” she gritted through her teeth, hating the thought of anyone rummaging through her belongings. Especially him.

  And wouldn't you know it, the very first thing he pulled out—her emergency tampon. She winced as he held it up in wonderment, his cocoa eyes analytical and narrowed. A wide smile broadened on his face and she could have died. “You don't need to pilfer my whole purse, ya know. Just get out my damned wallet, and then you can release these ridiculous cuffs."

  He pulled out her leather wallet and unsnapped the clasp. One by one he sorted through the cards, reading each one as he laid them out on the roof of her car. “You're absolutely right, Ma'am. Looking in your purse has proven something. You must be quite the skilled thief."

  "What? No, look, you just call Kurt. He'll tell you."

  "Yeah, I'll bet, being as he's the one to report this stolen. Why, I'd wager these are all reported stolen as well. You haven't proved anything to me, except maybe that I need to hold tight to my wallet and keys.” She stood shocked as he swiped the cards all up, and stuffed everything back into her purse. In three wide steps, he returned to her side and had the Blazer's door swung wide open. He motioned her to get in. “Let's go."

  "No. You've got to understand. Kurt, he..."

  "Lady, we'll finish sorting this all out at the station. Let's go. Get in or I'll put you in."

  Kirsten shook her head, slow at first, then furiously. Oh God, if Kurt had gone as far as to report the car stolen, and cancel her cards, maybe he hadn't taken her leaving so well.

  Like a sudden shadow cast over a once bright and cheery land, the dark truth crept in. Reality sunk into her mind and wrapped its claws around her psyche. Kurt wasn't going to let her go. Not ever.

  No, she knew entirely too much.

  And since she'd left like she did, no doubt he suspected that. He wouldn't let her go. Oh gawd, what had she gotten herself into? “No, I can't. I have to get out of here."

  "Fine, have it your way.” Before she could even open her mouth again he had her by the waist, and tossed her over his shoulder. Her ribs slammed into him, momentarily stealing her breath.

  Kirsten gasped, then screamed. Overwrought with the sudden need to flee, she banged her head into his back. It bounced back like a pebble thrown against a rock wall. Dizzy, she fell limp. He tossed her in the seat, and glared down
at her. His dark, narrowed eyes looked cold. A chill ran down her spine, followed by the strangest feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  He pointed at her, freezing her with the fierceness in his stare. “I'm giving you one last warning. Do that again, and you can add assaulting an officer to your list of charges."

  She scrambled up just in time for him to slam the door in her face.

  * * * *

  Reid had never been so angry in all his life. He stepped back from his Blazer and drew several deep breaths. He didn't know what infuriated him more, the idea that Kirsten Montgomery attracted him, or the fact that she was most definitely guilty.

  "Bad people should come with warning labels,” he muttered to no one in particular. Through the smudged glass he stared at her for a few more unintended seconds before he turned his back.

  Oh, she was good all right. Batting those big green jewels at him, and thrusting out her lower lip. Not to mention all that damned wiggling against him.

  Hard as a rock, his cock thumped against the confinement of his jeans, desperate to be let out. Literal pain protested at the denial and he let out a low growl.

  Reid turned his attention elsewhere, desperate to rid wanton images of her from his mind. As he walked away the rattle of her fighting against the automatic door locks chased after him, like a bad dream that wouldn't end.

  "Hey, Henry,” Reid called. He jogged lightly toward his elderly neighbor, leaning in close next to him for his attention.

  The old man snapped his head up, having drowsed through all the excitement. Reid smiled. He'd give the old man a story to tell later at the barbershop so the butcher didn't make fun of his napping too hard.

  "Howdy, Sheriff Reid. Mighty hot out. Puts an old man right to sleep. But there ain't nothing better than an afternoon siesta. Keep me awake later for the missus, ya know what I mean."

  Reid chuckled and nodded. Old man Henry seemed to be one of the lucky few that found a woman to love, and still kept it going, even when his bones were too old to hardly walk.

  "You missed all the fun. When it hits the papers people are gonna wonder what happened to you.” Reid waggled his finger in reprimand.

  Henry's golden brown eyes flashed like two streaks of lightning. “What happened? Ain't nothing happened."

  "I'll tell you what. I got a story you'll be able to tell for a least the next month or so. Maybe even pass on to the grandkids, given you do me a little favor."

  The old man's backbone became straight as a ramrod. “Name it."

  Reid held up the keys. “Take that stolen Corvette on over to the junkyard and have them store it."

  If Henry's face could have brightened any more it might have caught fire. He snatched the keys, and pulled himself up with his cane in such a slow rush to get to the convertible it almost made Reid laugh.

  Reid stood there until Henry took off, taking the sports car at a whopping twenty miles an hour down Main Street.

  Got to appreciate those elderly drivers, he thought with a little laugh. At least they kept under the speed limit. No one ever got killed going slower than a bike.

  Reid went back to the Blazer, hopped in, and rode the two-minute drive to the station in silence.

  * * * *

  "Oh, come on,” Kirsten pleaded in almost a whine. “For the hundredth time, if you would just listen to me."

  He slammed down the phone, and glared at her. “I know, I know. A drug dealer is going to murder you if I turn you in. I got it already.” Thick sarcasm laced his tone, and dripped from his voice.

  "But you don't believe me,” she hissed, though her story seemed distinctly unbelievable, even to herself. She didn't know how she could have been so blind for so very long.

  Kurt's money and charm had made her a fool, that's how. In one full sweep he'd knocked her right off her feet with money and fast cars. She'd forgotten all about her dreams of becoming a star as he'd filled her wallet with credit cards and put her up in her own condo. It had been a new life for a small town nobody young enough to fall for its glitter.

  Since then she'd changed.

  And so had Kurt. Or maybe his true colors had finally just come out. Either way, she couldn't have stayed. When she'd overheard where it all really came from, she'd lit out of there without so much as packing her clothes. She'd just grabbed her purse and got in her Corvette, still in her sweats from her morning run with Snowball.

  And she'd created a lot of trouble for herself with her rashness. If only she'd taken five minutes to think through her actions, instead of flying off the handle, perhaps she wouldn't be handcuffed and jailed by Sheriff Bighead. Maybe she wouldn't be staring at his handsome eyes, their almond shape narrowed into a dark stare which only served to make him look all the more attractive. Like the dark, silent type—brooding, mysterious.

  Sexy.

  With a gulp, she tried to force herself out of the trance his kissable lips held her under. Visions of his mouth trailing up and down her body, just as his hands had, overtook her mind. Poisoned with want once again, Kirsten tore her gaze away from him. No doubt he could see her hardened nipples right through her shirt.

  His words came in a slow growl to remind her of his seeming hatred towards her, not to mention distrust. “No, Ma'am. I don't believe you."

  Kirsten's level of anger flew up a notch. His disbelief left her incensed, and breathing through her nostrils. She knew how incredible her story sounded, but that didn't give him the right to judge her. “I'm not freaking lying. Isn't your duty to serve and protect? Well, you're not doing a very good job. In fact..."

  "Just be quiet already. Like a damned chatter box. My office has never been so noisy."

  "Well, if you'd listen to me..."

  "Enough. I have to make another phone call.” He waved her away with the flick of his hand and picked up the phone. Kirsten stood and wandered around the sheet-covered desk in his office. Drywall dust covered everything, and buckets of mud and tools lay scattered everywhere. She swore she'd end up with cancer from the particles he had her inhaling.

  The cuffs were still fastened tightly to her wrists, and though it hurt, she couldn't stop from pulling and tugging at them. They chafed the skin around her wrists and she couldn't stand them.

  Or him.

  Jerk. Mr. Know-It-All, I'm So Damned Fine—Jerk. Everything about him disgusted her. He wouldn't even try to listen to her, and understand her dilemma. Worse, at the time when she had so much to worry over, all she could think of was what it would feel like to have him.

  On the desk, the chair, the floor. Handcuffed.

  She shook her head. She hadn't had such impure thoughts since the accident. After that, she'd gone to Alcoholics Anonymous, put aside drinking and the behavior that went with it. It had been as if her thoughts were dry-cleaned.

  One look at Sheriff Reid Walker mucked up her mind with dirty ideas.

  She went to the window and leaned her head against the cool glass. Snowball sat out front, politely awaiting his owner. Traitor, she thought as she recalled how her pet had taken to her new worst enemy.

  Usually Kirsten could count on Snowball like a best friend. Sometimes she even swore the dog had more common sense than she did, but certainly not this time.

  Reid's escalating voice grabbed her attention. “No, dammit. We've been beating this around the bush for two hours now. Listen to me."

  Kirsten wanted to tell him if he wanted people to pay him attention, perhaps he should try extending the same courtesy. She wanted to shake and kick the idea right into him.

  "Is that a fact?” He growled to the person on the other end of the phone. “No, no. Wait a minute. Whispering Branch is over three hours away. It's Friday evening. For one, you'd have me driving until the early morning hours. Two, it would be closed by the time I got there anyway. In these parts we don't have trouble like you city folks. We go to sleep at night."

  She ran her fingers along the cold metal of the cuffs, resisting a laugh along with the urge to yank at them and stomp
her feet.

  His face had turned beet red, and he looked ready to explode. “No. I told you I can't keep her here. We're into some remodeling right now."

  "Then let me go.” She whispered to him in a hiss. Not that she could hope for any such thing. Not if she went by the way the past two days had gone.

  If it could've gone wrong, it did.

  By her track record, she figured she could expect her doom by tomorrow morning. Up until now, it had never occurred to her that Kurt kept everything he gave her solely in his name, or why. Now she knew. He'd made it impossible for her to leave without anything more than the clothes on her back. Not without him tracking her. She knew too much for him to just let her go. Funny how, until today, she'd never even realized it. Where naivete was concerned, she took the cake.

  Sheriff Reid shot her another mean look and went on with his call. His face contorted in twelve different expression of disgust, then he shouted. “Fine. But you damned well better be here for her first thing Monday morning."

  He slammed down the phone and looked up at her with sorry brown eyes. In contrast, a sexy little muscle in his jaw twitched in anger. “They can not extradite you back to California until Monday."

  "Oh no.” Shaking, she stepped back. She looked around at the construction mess and held her voice back from the scream it wanted to rise into. “No. I am not staying here until Monday. No way."

  He glared around the room and nodded his head. His dark eyes met hers, and a cold chill ran down her spine. “You are absolutely right. You cannot stay here. You'll stay with me."

  Chapter Three

  Reid winced as Kirsten's big eyes flashed in surprise. Golden flecks sparked from their green depths, and lit her face with disbelief, which quickly contorted into full-blown anger. Burned by her fiery glare, he averted his gaze.

  He couldn't believe it any more than her. But there it was, all the same. He had no other choice but to take her home. Couldn't leave her here—couldn't let her go. But he sure as hell wished he could do both.