Книга - From Here to Texas

From Here to Texas
Stella Bagwell


EVERYONE ASKED HIM WHEN HE PLANNED TO FIND A GOOD WOMAN. MAYBE SHE'D JUST WALKED IN THE DOOR.Quito Perez did not know what to make of it. There he was, minding his own business when who should stroll in but Clementine Jones. She looked as stunning as ever–blue eyes, long blond hair, expensive jewelry–and as out of place as a kitten in a cattle yard.Catching sight of him in the restaurant sent Celementine into shock. His mahogany skin, flinty Navajo gaze and quiet voice brought back searing memories that made her burn with desire. Now she understood why she'd returned to Aztec. First she had to convince the sheriff that she was no longer the flighty, immature girl who had walked out on him years ago. Then she had to steal back his heart.









Quito shut the door to the sleek, black sports car and stepped back. “Will I see you again before you leave?”


It wouldn’t be wise. The few minutes she’d spent with him already were burned into her memory. “I don’t know. Do you want to?”

A devilish smile suddenly crooked his mouth and he bent his head through the open window and kissed her. For a moment she was stunned and then, slowly, her mouth opened and her hand came up to cup the side of his face.

How could it be that the taste of him, the feel of his lips, were so sweetly the same? she wondered. And how could it be that she still wanted him so badly?

By the time he pulled his head back from hers, she could feel her pulse beating wildly in her temples.

“What do you think?” he asked.


Dear Reader,

Well, as promised, the dog days of summer have set in, which means one last chance at the beach reading that’s an integral part of this season (even if you do most of it on the subway, like I do!). We begin with The Beauty Queen’s Makeover by Teresa Southwick, next up in our MOST LIKELY TO… miniseries. She was the girl “most likely to” way back when, and he was the awkward geek. Now they’ve all but switched places, and the fireworks are about to begin….

In From Here to Texas, Stella Bagwell’s next MEN OF THE WEST book, a Navajo man and the girl who walked out on him years ago have to decide if they believe in second chances. And speaking of second chances (or first ones, anyway), picture this: a teenaged girl obsessed with a gorgeous college boy writes down some of her impure thoughts in her diary, and buries said diary in the walls of an old house in town. Flash forward ten-ish years, and the boy, now a man, is back in town—and about to dismantle the old house, brick by brick. Can she find her diary before he does? Find out in Christine Flynn’s finale to her GOING HOME miniseries, Confessions of a Small-Town Girl. In Everything She’s Ever Wanted by Mary J. Forbes, a traumatized woman is finally convinced to come out of hiding, thanks to the one man she can trust. In Nicole Foster’s Sawyer’s Special Delivery, a man who’s played knight-in-shining armor gets to do it again—to a woman (cum newborn baby) desperate for his help, even if she hates to admit it. And in The Last Time I Saw Venice by Vivienne Wallington, a couple traumatized by the loss of their child hopes that the beautiful city that brought them together can work its magic—one more time.

So have your fun. And next month it’s time to get serious—about reading, that is….

Enjoy!

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor




From Here to Texas

Stella Bagwell







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my editor, Stacy Boyd, for being such a dear joy to

work with. Thank you for keeping me on the right track.




STELLA BAGWELL


sold her first book to Silhouette in November 1985. More than fifty novels later, she still loves her job and says she isn’t completely content unless she’s writing. Recently she and her husband moved from the hills of Oklahoma to 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 high school math in nearby Port Lavaca.


My darling Clementine,

Morning is dawning and as I watch the sun rise over the desert mountains, I can hardly wait for the day to come and the hours to pass before I can be with you again.

The scent of you, the taste of you, the feel of your soft body next to mine runs deep in my blood and I realize I am a lost man.

I understand that we come from different worlds and that you’re afraid to try to live in mine. But when we make love I believe we both forget that I am Mexican and Navajo and that you are from a rich, white family.

If you go back to Texas, my love, my broken heart will go with you for always.

Love,

Quito




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen




Chapter One


Quito Perez was sweating by the time he walked into the Wagon Wheel Café and, though he hated sitting close to the door, he sank onto the first available bar stool rather than work his way toward a booth in the back.

Damn it! He hated the weak quiver in his legs, the labored breathing after two blocks of simple walking. Even so, he was grateful to God to still be alive.

A month had passed since someone had driven up beside his SUV and blasted three nine millimeter slugs at him. The bullets had smashed into his vehicle and gone on to shatter his ribs, collapse a lung and rip his spleen to shreds. But he’d cheated the murdering bastard who’d tried to kill him. He’d survived.

“Hey, Sheriff, how’s it going today?”

He looked up to see Betty, a middle-aged waitress who’d worked at the Wagon Wheel for as long as he could remember. She had coarse features and rough hands but she was a hardworking woman with a soft heart. He could always count on her for good service and a sympathetic word.

“I can’t complain, Betty. I saw the sunrise this morning.”

With an understanding smile, she reached across the countertop and patted his hand. “We all prayed for you, Sheriff, while you were down. And see, you’re already up and around and back in the saddle,” she said brightly.

Quito wasn’t exactly back in the saddle completely. But a week ago, he’d finally returned to light duty at his desk. It was great to be back at work, yet he wished he could go at full throttle. He was a man who’d never been sick or down with an injury. Having to coddle himself was a pain in the rear. One that he was more than ready to be rid of.

“I hope all the people around the county know how much I appreciate their thoughts and prayers,” Quito told her. “I just wish I was back to full strength. Jess and Daniel are working themselves to death.”

Betty pulled a pad and pen from a pocket on her pink uniform. “I wouldn’t worry one minute about those two lawmen of yours. They’re young and in their prime. You can’t work those two guys down. Besides, you’ll be your old self before you know it. You just need some of Nadine’s biscuits and eggs to put some tallow back on you.”

“Add some bacon and hash browns to that and I’ll eat it,” he told her.

“I hear you,” she said with a wide grin. The woman scribbled the order down on her pad, then hurried away to pour the sheriff a cup of coffee.

To his left and a few feet behind him, Quito heard the cowbell jingle as the door to the café opened and closed. Seconds later, a strong male hand was squeezing his shoulder.

“Mornin’ Quito.”

He didn’t have to look up to know the greeting had come from his under sheriff, Jess Hastings. The tall, sandy-haired lawman had been his right-hand man for nearly three years now. Between Jess and their chief deputy, Daniel Redwing, he hadn’t had to worry about law and order being kept in the county while he recuperated. The two men could be trusted completely.

“Good morning, Jess. Where’s Redwing? Isn’t he going to eat breakfast with us this morning?”

Jess grinned slyly as he slung a leg over the adjacent bar stool. “Maggie is seeing that Daniel gets fed.”

The deputy had married Jess’s widowed sister-in-law three weeks ago. Quito had barely been released from the hospital and had still been wearing drain tubes at the time, but he’d managed to sit on the church pew long enough to see the pair exchange their wedding vows. The wedding had been one of the happier moments he’d had since he’d been shot.

Quito chuckled. “Oh, yeah, sometimes I forget he’s a newlywed.”

“Well, it was quite a shock to see the guy walk down the aisle. I thought he hated women.” Jess grunted with amusement. “Little did I know.”

Betty reappeared with Quito’s coffee along with another cup for Jess. She took Jesse’s order and hurried away to a customer who was motioning for her attention.

Quito took a sip of the sustaining caffeine then glanced over at his friend and fellow lawman. “Don’t suppose you’ve had any new leads come into your desk. Leads about the shooting, that is,” he added, even though he figured Jess understood.

The other man glumly shook his head. “Not anything credible. We’ve had all sorts of people saying they saw a black Dodge with heavily tinted windows in the area the day you were shot, but no one has any idea of the tag number. One guy thinks it had Nevada plates, but hell, the thing could have been rented.”

Quito shook his head. “I doubt it, Jess. Pickup trucks aren’t big rental vehicles. A person wouldn’t need a truck, he could shoot out of a car just as easily.”

Jess shrugged. “Yeah, but in a truck the shooter would be sitting up higher and have a better view at the target.”

Quito resisted shuddering at the fact that he’d been the target. “That’s true.” He took another sip of the coffee and rubbed the palm of his hand against his brow. It came away wet even though the room was air-conditioned. “You know, Jess, I lay awake at night—wondering who the hell hates me enough to want me dead. I can’t think of anyone. Or maybe I just don’t want to think any of my friends isn’t really a friend.”

Jess shook his head. “Listen, Quito, I know what you’re thinking—what you’re going through. It doesn’t do any good to let yourself start getting paranoid about everyone around you.”

More than a year ago, Jess had also been shot while investigating a murder. The bullet had knocked him over into a deep ravine and the fall itself had nearly killed him, not to mention all the blood that he’d lost. Thankfully they’d eventually found the shooter and a jury had sentenced him to many long years in the penitentiary.

“You’re right,” Quito replied. “I just need to keep my eyes and ears open. That’s all.”

“And you need to get completely well before you start working ten to twelve hours a day,” Jess told him. “Bet the doctor has already given you those orders.”

Quito nodded. “Don’t worry, Jess, I’m taking things slow. Well, as slow as I can.”

From the other end of the busy diner, Betty appeared through a set of swinging doors. She was carrying a tray loaded with two platters of breakfast food and she headed straight for the two San Juan County lawmen.

“Here you go, guys.” She placed the steaming food in front of them. “I’ll get you some more coffee. Want anything else?”

The two men both assured her they were content and they dug into their eggs and biscuits. As they ate, they continued to talk about the few leads they’d had on Quito’s shooting before they finally turned their attention to a recent rash of burglaries.

Jess had just finished the last bite on his plate when his pager went off. After he checked the message, he told Quito he had to go and threw down a bill large enough to pay for several meals.

“Hey, this is too much money!” Quito called after him.

Jess waved a hand as he hurried out the door. “You can buy next time.”

He gave the bill to Betty and she went to the cash register to pay both men out. While he waited for her to return with the change, he sipped the last of his coffee and glanced around the long room. It was seven-thirty and the place was jammed with customers. A nonsmoking policy had never been enforced in the eating place and the blue-gray clouds waved and dipped through the air as diners ate and read the Farmington Daily.

Betty got caught at the register and ended up waiting on several customers before she finally returned with Quito’s change. As she counted the change out to him, she said with a wide grin, “Looks like Jess was feeling generous this morning. Guess that’s what living with Victoria does to the man. When are you ever going to find yourself a good woman, Quito?”

Just as he started to tell her there weren’t any good women who’d put up with him, the cowbell jangled and Betty eyed the potential customer with great interest.

“Uh—maybe that’s her right there,” she murmured under her breath.

Quito slowly looked over his shoulder and immediately felt as though someone had smashed him in the gut.

Dear God, it was Clementine Jones!

Without even glancing his way, she walked past him and eased into an empty booth. For a moment, as Quito watched her settle herself on the vinyl seat, he thought his lung must have collapsed again. He couldn’t breathe in or out and his heart was racing, tripping weakly against his busted ribs.

“Sheriff? Is that someone you know?”

The question had come from Betty and he looked around to see the waitress was still standing across the counter from him. Her curious gaze was wavering between him and Clementine.

“Yeah,” he said grimly. “I thought I knew her.” He adjusted the brim of his gray Stetson and slid from the bar stool. “Excuse me, Betty. Oh, here you go.” He tossed an extra nice tip on the table and walked away from the bar.

Clementine didn’t notice his approach. She was too busy folding away her designer sunglasses and stowing them in a leather handbag.

Once he was standing at the side of her table, he said in a low voice, “Hello, Clementine.”

The greeting caused her head to jerk up. Recognition flashed in her eyes and just as quickly her rosy-beige skin turned the color of a sick olive.

“Hello, Quito.”

His nostrils flared as he tried to draw in the oxygen his body was craving. Clementine Jones was as beautiful, no he mentally corrected himself, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her waist-length hair was straight and glossy and the color of a west Texas wheat field just before harvest time. Eyes as blue as a New Mexican sky were almond shaped and fringed with long dark lashes. Her lips were full and bow shaped, and at the moment naked. The point of her chin was slightly dented and though it wasn’t evident now, when she smiled there was a dimple in her left cheek.

Clementine looked as classy and out of place in this diner, Quito thought, as a Mustang would in Linc Ketchum’s remuda on the T Bar K.

“This is quite a surprise,” he said, “seeing you back in town.”

Her gaze fluttered awkwardly away from his as she shrugged a long strand of hair back over her shoulder. “Yes, it’s been a while.”

“Eleven years is a long time,” he stated.

The idea that he’d kept count had her gaze swinging back to his. Pink color seeped into the skin covering her high, slanted cheekbones.

“How have you been, Quito? Still the sheriff, I see.”

Something inside him snapped, then ricocheted around in him as her gaze slipped to the badge pinned to the left side of his chest.

“I’m making it, okay. The people around here still want me as their peacemaker and I’m glad to oblige.”

His drawl held the faintest edge and she must have picked up on the sharpness because the corners of her lips tightened ever so slightly.

“Must be nice to be wanted,” she murmured.

“You ought to know,” he countered softly. “See ya’ around, Clem.”

He turned away from the booth to leave and noticed Betty heading toward them with her pad and pencil.

As he started toward the exit Quito jerked his thumb back at Clementine’s booth. “Treat her right, Betty. She’s used to the best.”

Clementine tried not to look at the man as he left the café, but her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own and she watched his tall, solidly built body ease past the glass door and out of sight.

“Good mornin’, miss. You havin’ breakfast this mornin’?”

Sighing with a sadness she dared not examine, Clementine turned back to the waitress hovering at the edge of her table.

“Just coffee and toast. And maybe a little jam—any kind will do,” she told the waitress.

Betty quickly scribbled the order down then cast a faint grin at Clementine. “You must be new around town. I’d remember someone as pretty as you.”

Clementine flushed at Betty’s compliment. “Thank you. I used to live in this area for a while. I’m just back for a short visit.”

Curiosity raised Betty’s eyebrows. “Oh. You lived here in town? I live on Fourth. Little yellow house with a mesquite tree in the front yard.”

Clementine shook her head as she told herself she was going to have to get used to this. People were naturally going to be asking her why she was here, how long she planned to stay and where she’d been. The best thing she could do was to be honest.

“I didn’t live here in town. My parents owned the house south of town—the white stucco with the red tile roof. It’s on the mountain.”

Since there was only one house that fit that description, Betty’s mouth formed a silent O. “You mean the Jones house?”

Clementine nodded. “I didn’t know if anyone would remember. It’s been a long time since we were here.”

Betty was flat out amazed. “Remember? Why, honey, everyone remembers you Joneses.”

“Hey, Betty! Are you gonna talk all day over there or are you gonna pour me some coffee?”

The waitress glanced over at the man sitting on a bar stool. Even though his griping appeared to be good-natured, she stuck her pencil behind her ear and said, “Gotta go, miss. I’ll bring that toast right out.”



After Clementine ate breakfast she drove down main street and parked her black sports car in front of a log structure with a sign hanging over the door that read Neil Rankin, Attorney at Law.

Small sprinklers were dampening the patches of grass in front of the building. To the right-hand side of the steps stood a huge blue spruce tree. The pungent scent from its boughs was fresh and crisp to Clementine’s nostrils and she could only think how different this little corner of the world was from Houston and many of the poverty-stricken places she’d visited in the past couple of years. The sky was clean and sharply blue. The scents of evergreen, juniper and sage laced the dry air. And the men were just as rough and tough as any Texan on the streets of Houston. Especially one, she thought. The one with a badge on his shirt and a gun on his hips.

Feeling as though every last bit of air had drained from her lungs, she slumped back against the seat and passed a trembling hand across her forehead.

Why are you so upset, Clementine? You knew you were going to run into the man sometime during this stay. You knew you were going to have to look upon his face again.

Drawing in a ragged breath, she tried to push the voice away and gather her shaken senses.

She turned her gaze on the passenger window and stared out at the town where she’d once walked and shopped. Above the roofs of the buildings, in the far, far distance, the peaks of the San Juan Mountains were capped with snow and as she studied their majestic beauty, her thoughts turned backward to a time when she and Quito had walked along a quiet mountain path. Even though it had been summer, patches of snow had lain in the shadows and in the meadows dandelions as big as saucers had bobbed in the warm sun. She and Quito had lain down in the grass and the wildflowers and made love. The trees and the sky had been their canopy and the earth had been their bed. She’d fallen in love with him that day and her life had never been the same since.

Several minutes passed before Clementine was composed enough to leave the car and enter the lawyer’s office. The front area of the building was modestly decorated with plastic chairs and a coffee table loaded with magazines. In the center of the room, close to a door marked Private, was a wide desk with an Hispanic woman seated behind it. A nameplate on the corner said her name was Connie Jimenez.

As Clementine approached the desk, the woman continued to chat on the telephone. After two long minutes, she hung up and quickly apologized.

“Sorry about that. Some people think they can butt their way into anything.” The middle-aged woman had black, slightly graying hair and she smiled at Clementine with a sincerity that was real, not like the phony lip movement she saw back in the city. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m Clementine Jones. Neil told me to drop by this morning. Is he busy?”

Connie rolled her eyes as if to say Neil Rankin wouldn’t know what real work was. “He’s probably in there throwing darts.”

Clementine’s brows arched upward. “Why? Is he angry?”

Connie laughed. “Angry? Are you kidding? I’ve never seen that man even raise his voice. He’s practicing his dart game for a tournament down at Indian Wells. That’s a local bar and grill. First prize gets you free beer for a year.”

She motioned toward the door marked Private. “Go on in. I just made him a fresh pot of coffee. And there’re doughnuts, too.”

“Thanks,” Clementine told her and knocked lightly before she opened the door to Neil Rankin’s office.

As Connie had predicted, the lawyer was drinking coffee and throwing darts at a board on the wall.

“Come in,” he called as he walked over to the dart board and plucked one from the center of the target. “I’ll be right with you.”

“It’s only me, Neil.”

The sound of her voice caused him to jerk with surprise and he quickly turned and hurried over. The smile on his face said he was truly glad to see her and she was relieved. It was no secret that the relationship between Neil and Quito had been a long, close one. She couldn’t blame Neil if he hated her for hurting his friend.

“Clementine! How great to see you!”

Neil was a tall man with a handsomely chiseled face. Compared to Quito’s rugged build, he was slender, but well put together and his dark blond hair was naturally streaked and fell across his forehead in a boyish fashion. He’d been single when she’d been living here and from the looks of his empty ring finger he was still that way. It was hard to believe some woman hadn’t snared him before now, she thought. But then, maybe he’d been burned as she’d been burned. Maybe he never wanted to think about the word love.

He took both her hands and gave them a warm squeeze. Clementine couldn’t help but smile at him. “Hello, Neil.”

Neil positioned a cushioned chair in front of his desk and helped her into it. “I was just drinking my morning coffee. Let me get you a cup,” he said.

She’d already had two cups at the Wagon Wheel, but now that she was here she wanted to appear sociable. “That would be nice. Thank you,” she told him.

He walked over to the coffeemaker and picked up a glass cup. “I’ll give you good china,” he said with a wink. “Connie says I shouldn’t give a lady a cup of coffee in a foam cup. Cream or sugar?”

“Cream please.”

The lawyer carried it over to her and she smiled wryly as she accepted the cup and saucer. “At least you think I’m a lady,” she said.

Frowning, he rested his hips on the front of the desk. “Now why would you say that? I’ve always considered you a lady.”

A blush crept across her face. “Well, I don’t imagine you’ve had too many good thoughts of me since I left Aztec. You and Quito were such good friends.”

He shrugged. “And we still are. I don’t put the entire blame on your breakup with you. You were very young then, Clementine. Quito should have realized that and—well, let’s not get into all that. Tell me what you’re doing with the house?”

Neil walked around the desk and eased down in a leather chair. Clementine sipped her coffee and tried to get comfortable. “I don’t know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it first. I knew you’d be honest with me. As to whether I should sell or rent.”

Thoughtful, he rubbed a thumb and forefinger across his dented chin. “The place has been empty for a long time. Years, in fact. Why have you suddenly decided to do something with it?”

Clementine breathed deeply. “Believe me, Neil, my decision isn’t sudden. I’ve had the place on my mind for a long while. But I—” She couldn’t continue. She couldn’t admit to this old friend that she’d been afraid to return to Aztec, afraid of facing Quito and all that had happened between them. “I’ve been busy with one thing and another,” she finished.

He smiled understandingly. “Well, the years have certainly been kind to you, Clementine. You haven’t aged a day. You’re still just as pretty as ever.”

“And it sounds like you’re still the flirt and flatterer that I remember,” she teased.

Neil chuckled and then his expression turned serious. “I thought that you might have come back because of Quito. You must have heard he nearly died.”

The news was such a slam to her stomach she actually pressed her hand against her midsection. Incredulous, she stared at him. “Nearly died? But how? Why?”

“Someone tried to murder him. It happened out on highway 544. Someone drove up beside him and pumped three nine millimeter slugs into the side of his vehicle. Two of the bullets hit Quito and did a lot of damage. He only got released from the hospital about two or three weeks ago.”

So that’s why he’d looked a little pale, she thought. And all the time he’d been standing beside her table, she’d been thinking his ashen color had been a result of seeing her again. Clementine should have known better than to think she’d had that much effect on the man.

Still stunned, she slowly shook her head. “No—I—I hadn’t heard about Quito. In fact, I just saw him over at the Wagon Wheel. He stopped by my table to say hello.” A pained expression crossed her face. “He didn’t say anything about being shot!”

Neil shrugged. “No. Quito wouldn’t say anything. He’s not the sort to go around talking about himself.”

Or to her, she thought, sadly.

“I noticed he was still wearing his badge and gun. So apparently he’s not giving up the job of sheriff,” she said to Neil.

Leaning back in his chair, Neil folded his arms across his chest and thoughtfully eyed her troubled face. “Why, Clementine, you sound as if you still care about our brave sheriff.”

Trying to keep any sort of emotion from her face, Clementine reached down and pulled a set of thick papers from the briefcase she’d carried in with her handbag.

“Here’s the abstract and deed for the house and land,” she said stiffly. “Once you have a chance to read it over you can contact me at the Apache Junction.”

Clementine rose to her feet and walked out before the lawyer collected himself enough to make any sort of reply.

Once she was outside and sitting in her car, she finally let her guard down. With a heavy sigh, she rested her forehead on the steering wheel and closed her eyes.

Clementine, you sound as if you still care about our brave sheriff.

What made Neil think she still had feelings for Quito Perez, she wondered bitterly. Eleven years was a long time. Love didn’t last that long. Not for anybody.




Chapter Two


After Clementine drove away from Neil Rankin’s office, she decided at the last moment to turn the car onto the highway and drive out to the Jones house.

She’d only arrived in Aztec last night after a long drive up from Houston. Her mother, Delta, had pronounced her crazy for wanting to drive eleven hundred miles rather than fly to northern New Mexico. But Clementine hadn’t wanted the trip to be short. She’d wanted the extra time to think about the past and ponder her future.

Nothing had turned out as she’d once planned and a tiny part of her hoped and believed that making this trip, and doing away with the house her parents had willed her, would finally put an end to her restless heart.

The car topped out on a small grade and Clementine automatically began to brake as she noticed a patrol car parked on the side of the road. It would be just her luck to get a speeding ticket, she thought dourly. Quito would surely get a laugh out of that.

On closer inspection, she noticed the car was empty and just as she was about to pass, she caught sight of a man’s figure standing out among a stand of twisted juniper trees.

It was Quito!

Without bothering to wonder why, she steered her car onto the shoulder of the highway and parked in front of the patrol car. In a matter of seconds she was out of the car and walking toward him.

He noticed her immediately, but he didn’t bother walking to meet her. Instead he stood his ground and waited for her to come to him.

She was still dressed in the slim white skirt and peach silk blouse she’d been wearing at the Wagon Wheel. The four-inch spiked heels on her feet were sinking into the loamy red soil and he cursed under his breath as she awkwardly covered the rough ground between them.

“What are you doing out here, Clementine?”

She licked her lips and smoothed her skirt. “I saw the car and then I spotted you. I thought something might be wrong.” She hadn’t exactly thought he was having trouble, but it was the only excuse she could think of at the moment. Apparently from the dry expression on Quito’s face, he considered it pretty lame, too.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong. And you’re going to kill yourself wearing those heels out here like this.”

A smile tilted the corners of her lips. “Still the ever practical Quito, I see.”

Her blue eyes slid covertly down his six-foot-three-inch body. He was thick with muscle, much more so than he’d been eleven years ago. His thighs had his jeans stretched tight and the expanse across his chest and shoulders seemed to go on forever. He was wearing a white oxford shirt and the color contrasted starkly against his dark skin.

As her eyes returned to his face, she felt another kick in the stomach. Quito wasn’t handsome. His features were far too rough for that. But the chiseled nose and mouth and dark hooded eyes all combined to make the most masculine face she’d ever seen. And one that, for her, had been unforgettable.

“I could think of worse things to be called,” he said.

She smiled again while inside she sighed softly at the thought of stepping forward and laying her cheek against his broad chest. Quito was the strongest, bravest man she’d ever known. No one had ever made her feel as safe as he had.

“This morning—you didn’t ask me why I was here in Aztec,” she said. “How come?”

Her question sounded so much like the young nineteen-year-old woman he’d fallen in love with that he couldn’t stop the corner of his lip from curling upward.

“Because it’s none of my business why you’re here.”

She looked disappointed. Which didn’t make an iota of sense to Quito. The woman had walked out of his life years ago. Granted, she’d said she was doing it all in the name of love. But she’d never come back to his little corner of the world. And for Quito that had pretty much exposed the truth of her feelings.

“Oh,” she said and then a frown marred her pretty face. “Well, why didn’t you tell me you’d been shot?”

So she’d heard about that already, he thought grimly. But hell, what did that matter, he reasoned. He wasn’t trying to be a superhero in her eyes anymore.

“Look, Clementine, I just stopped by your table to say hello. That’s all. What in hell do you expect from me, anyway?”

Her eyes were suddenly stricken with dark shadows and he couldn’t miss the slight quiver of her lips as she murmured huskily, “I don’t know, Quito.”

Damn it, he was going to have to tell the doctor that something inside his chest had ripped open. Some of that sewing they’d done on him must have pulled apart because there was a pain between his lungs like he’d never felt before.

A hot westerly breeze picked up her long hair and she caught the shiny strands with her hand as she turned and walked away from him.

Torn with all sorts of emotions, Quito watched her for a few seconds, then cursed under his breath and hurried to catch up with her.

By the time his hand closed around her upper arm, his breathing was rapid and labored. Clementine stopped her forward motion and turned to study him with concern.

“Quito, are you all right?”

No, he was far from all right, he wanted to tell her. He’d had enough trouble this past month without the only woman he’d ever loved showing up to bring back all sorts of pain and misery.

“One of my lungs collapsed and two of my ribs were shattered from the gunfire. I’m not totally well yet,” he admitted.

“I’m so sorry.”

She looked both sincere and concerned but Quito wasn’t going to be sucker enough to believe her this time.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too,” he muttered.

She drew in a long, bracing breath as she continued to hold her blond hair away from her face. “Look, Quito, for what it’s worth I didn’t come up here to cause you any sort of problems. My parents willed the house to me and I’ve come up to see about putting it on the market. That’s all.”

He forced the tension in his body to relax and only then did he realize his fingers were still gripping her upper arm. He dropped his hand and said, “I didn’t really think you were here because of me. All of that was a long time ago. No sense in rehashing it.”

Except that loving her still continued to affect his life. All the days and months and years that had spanned between them should have erased her from his mind, he thought helplessly. Yet the time hadn’t done anything to dull the light of joy she brought to his heart.

She gave him a shaky smile. “I’m glad you feel that way, Quito.” She glanced thoughtfully toward her car, then back at him. “I’m on my way to the house. Why don’t you come with me? I haven’t been there in years and I’m almost afraid of what I’ll find.”

His initial instinct was to turn down her invitation. He didn’t need to spend any more time with this woman than necessary. But the hungry, wounded part of him couldn’t resist. For years he’d dreamed about seeing this woman again. Now that she was here, he might as well live the dream a little longer, he thought.

“Sure. I haven’t seen it in a long time, either,” he said. “I’ll follow you in the squad car.”

With a nervous smile, she nodded. “See you there.”

Had she gone crazy? Clementine asked herself as she started the car with shaky fingers and pulled onto the highway. What had possessed her to invite Quito to join her at the house?

Silly woman you know why you invited him. Because you never could resist him and these next few minutes might be the last you ever have with him.

Trying to put that black thought from her mind, Clementine concentrated on her driving and dared not to look in the rearview mirror. Just knowing he was directly behind her was enough to distract her.

Two miles passed before Clementine made a right-hand turn and pulled up to massive iron gates supported by two tall columns made of Colorado rock.

The gates were secured with a combination lock. She rolled the correct numbers and once the lock released she pushed the gates aside.

Before she slid back into her car, she walked back to the driver’s window on Quito’s car. He lowered the glass and looked at her.

“I just wanted to tell you not to bother locking the gates behind you. I’ve decided to leave them open while I’m here.”

“All right,” he replied.

She glanced toward the entrance. Clumps of sage had grown up around the rock columns and the two willows that her father had planted were now huge and drooping a deep shade across the driveway. It all looked so different and beautiful and for a moment hot moisture stung her eyes.

“It’s so grown-up,” she murmured.

“Things have a way of changing with time, Clementine.”

Oh, yes, she understood that better than anyone, she thought wistfully.

After a moment, she said, “Well, guess we’d better go on up.”

The drive up to the Jones house was less than a mile, but it seemed much farther. The road curved and climbed the whole distance and on either side of the rough track old twisted juniper stood like crippled warriors proudly hanging on to what little greenery they had left. The dirt was red and bare and some sort of sage was blooming pink and yellow. It was wild and beautiful scenery and Clementine wondered what it would be like to live here again, to see the fresh blue sky and breathe in the clean, crisp air of the high desert.

Don’t even think about it, Clementine. If you stayed your problems would eventually follow you. And then where would you be? Your staying might even put your old friends in danger.

Shaking that grim notion away, she gripped the wheel and tried to focus on the huge potholes scattered here and there on the deteriorated road. Finally the pathway flattened out to a level spot some several feet below the house. Clementine parked her car to one side so that Quito would have ample room, then climbed out to the ground.

As she waited for him to join her, she stared up at the huge structure where she and her parents had once lived in.

By Houston standards, the place really wasn’t anything to brag about. But in this area it was considered majestic, and had especially been admired eleven years ago when her father, Wilfred Jones, had it built.

The house was hacienda style with stuccoed walls in yellow-beige, a red tiled roof, and a long, ground level porch with arched supports running along the front. At the back of the structure an upstairs housed two more bedrooms to add to those on the ground floor. Off the second floor a large sundeck had been built of treated redwood. It was a spot where Clementine had often donned a bikini and lain in the warm sun.

Walking up behind her, Quito lifted his gaze toward the empty house. “Looks like you’ve been lucky. No vandalism. Which is surprising for as long as this place has been empty.”

“Daddy still has the place equipped with an alarm system. I’m sure that’s helped.”

“Yeah, that and the fact that most young people are too lazy to walk all the way up here from the highway.”

“Let’s go take a look around,” she said and without looking to see if he was following, she started up the twenty-five steps that would eventually take her to the front door.

As she climbed, memories assailed her. Some of them sweet and special, others painful. She tried not to think of any of those times now. It didn’t do a person any good to keep going back to the past, she told herself. But for all these years her thoughts had lingered here with Quito.

Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed he was coming at a much slower pace and she suddenly remembered his injuries.

Skipping four steps down to him, she took hold of his arm. “Quito, I’m sorry. This is winding you. Maybe you shouldn’t go the rest of the way.”

He tossed her a dry look. “I’m all right. Hell, after this I should be able to run the 220.”

She sighed. “I wasn’t thinking about your injuries,” she apologized again.

Shaking his head, he urged her on up the steps. “I’m not an invalid, Clementine. Maybe a little slow still, but it’s going to take a damn sight more than a bastard with a nine millimeter to kill me.”

Clementine didn’t know what she would have done if she’d arrived in Aztec to find that Quito had been killed. Dear God, she couldn’t begin to imagine the world without his powerful presence. Even eleven years ago, he’d been one of the driving forces that held this county together. She figured things were still that way. No doubt the people around here adored him and would have grieved at his passing. And she…well, she would have sunk into a black hole.

In spite of his determined words, she continued to hold on to his arm and they took each step slowly together until they reached the porch.

Sliding off her sunglasses, she dug into her shoulder bag until she felt the key ring. Once she’d unlocked the door and swung it open, she glanced around to see Quito standing just behind her. But his gaze wasn’t on her. He was staring down at the valley spread below them.

“Will liked being up here on the mountain,” Quito mused aloud. “How is your father now? And your mother?”

Tender emotion knotted her throat, forcing her to swallow before she could answer. “They’re both doing fine. They live in Houston, not far from my place. Right now they’ve gone to spend the summer in Rome. Daddy didn’t care a whit about going. But Mother loves it there and well, you know, Mother gets what Mother wants.”

His lips twisted to a wry slant. “I never thought of your mother as demanding.”

Clementine laughed softly. “You’re being kind, Quito. We both know she’s demanding and Daddy spoils her rotten. Just like he did—”

“You?”

Her blue gaze clashed with his dark brown eyes and she felt her stomach go weak as if she’d been punched by a fist.

Releasing a heavy breath, she murmured, “Yes, like me.”

Before he could say more, she quickly turned and stepped inside. Dust and stale air assaulted her nose and she sneezed, then sneezed again.

As she punched off the alarm system, Quito said, “Bless you.”

Glancing over her shoulder she saw that he’d followed her inside and the gentle expression on his face surprised her and warmed her spirits at the same time.

“Thank you, Quito,” she said, then with a broad smile, she walked back to him and grabbed his hand.

“Come on,” she said, tugging him along. “Let’s go exploring.”

The foyer was ridiculously large. Once they’d left it, they stepped into the great room. It was long and wide with huge pane windows that looked out over the valley floor. At night, they could see the lights of Bloomfield vying for a place among the stars shining across the desert.

It had once been a festive room where her mother and father had held many parties and get-togethers. Now, except for the furniture covered in dust protectors, the place was ghostly quiet.

“I remember your mother had one of the most beautiful Christmas trees I’d ever seen standing over there in the corner. It reached the ceiling and she had gold ribbons tied on it and little toy soldiers hanging from the branches.”

“Hmm. I remember, too. She gave you a tie with reindeer on it and a pair of green socks. I’m sure you thought she was crazy,” Clementine said with a smile.

Actually he’d been honored that Delta Jones had even thought of putting him on her Christmas list. He was not from their lofty social circle and he was half Navajo and half Hispanic on top of that. Other than his adopted parents, he’d had no family of his own. No deep roots to explain his heritage. Sure, he’d been dating the Joneses’ daughter, but they’d seemed to understand that he was just a pastime for Clementine and not a serious love affair. Her parents had never considered him a threat to sweep her away to his life and they’d been right. When Will had retired and packed up to move back to Houston, Clementine had been right beside her parents, not Quito.

“Your mother was always nice to me,” he told her. “So was your father. I’m glad to hear they’re doing well. Does your father still own Jones Oil and Gas?”

Clementine started toward a hallway that would lead them toward a den, a study and several bedrooms. Quito followed a step behind her and as she looked around at the dusty walls and windows, he looked at her.

Except for her curves being a little rounder and fuller, she still looked the same. She was a tall woman with long shapely legs and arms. Her skin was the sort that tanned deeply and her light hair was a striking contrast against her face. As were her vivid blue eyes. He’d always thought of them as two pools of blue ocean. Calm and serene and beautiful at times, stormy at others.

“Yes,” she answered. “Oscar Ramirez keeps everything pulled together and running smoothly. You might remember him. The corporate lawyer who used to come up here in the summer to do a little fishing?”

“I remember.”

“Well, anyway, Daddy has him, and he takes the burden of the business off his shoulders.”

Quito mentally cursed as he realized he’d been thinking about the pleasures of her body rather than the words coming out of her mouth.

“Uh—sorry, I didn’t catch what you said,” he allowed.

She glanced around at him and frowned. “Oh, I’ll bet you’re getting tired. Let’s go up to the sun deck and rest a while before we start back,” she suggested. “Can you make the climb?”

Damn it, he’d always had the reputation of being as strong as a bull. It irked him to be less than a hundred percent in front of this woman. Still, her show of concern surprised him. It also made him feel special. A word he shouldn’t link with Clementine. He wasn’t special to her. He was simply an old lover.

The two of them climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom on the left. The bed and matching furniture were still in place and Clementine trailed a finger through the thick dust on the dresser top. “It would be nice to see everything clean again,” she said wistfully. “Maybe I’ll do that before I leave.”

Leave. Of course she would be leaving in a short time, he thought. That shouldn’t surprise him. It shouldn’t make him feel like a dead, hollow log, either.

To the left of the bed, a wide, sliding glass door led onto the redwood sun deck. Quito unlatched the locks holding the glass in place, then slid it open.

A warm, fresh breeze met them as they stepped onto the wooden deck and Clementine lifted her face to the wind and shook back her hair.

“Leave the door open, Quito. Fresh air is what the whole house needs.”

He left the door ajar as she requested and followed her to the middle of the large sundeck. On the north side of the house the lofty view looked down upon a large kidney-shaped swimming pool. On the opposite side, you could see all the way to the Navajo reservation. At the moment, the reds and greens and purples of the desert landscape shimmered in the morning sunshine.

Drawn by the view, Clementine walked over to the railing and was about to place her hands on the smooth wood when Quito called out.

“Don’t touch that!”

Frozen by his command, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Why?” she asked with a puzzled frown. “What’s wrong?”

Quito walked over to her and nudged her back from the railing. “The weather could have loosened it. Let me check before you lean your weight on it.”

He tested the sturdiness of the balustrade with a shake of his strong hand. To his satisfaction, it didn’t budge.

“Looks okay,” he told her. “Go ahead and lean all you want.”

She moved up to the wooden rail and placed both hands around the smooth wood. For the umpteenth time since he’d ran into her, he noticed there was no wedding ring on her left hand. On her right hand there was a pear-shaped solitaire diamond the color of champagne and the size of too-many-karats-to-count.

On many women the ring would have looked gaudy, but on Clementine it looked perfect. She’d been born to be adorned and pampered and it showed in the proud carriage of her body.

He walked up beside her and leaned his hip against the deck railing. “So what have you been doing all these years, Clementine?”

She didn’t answer immediately nor did she turn her head to the side to glance at him. Quito got the feeling she didn’t want to share such personal information with him. And he was about to tell her that she didn’t have to tell him anything when she spoke.

“I can tell you that I haven’t been nearly as productive as you, Quito.”

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve made something of yourself.” She turned slightly to look at him and he saw that her eyes were shadowed with secrets and grief. “You’re a respected sheriff. You’re doing exactly what you want to do.”

“And you’re not?” he asked gently.

She made a tiny sound in her throat that was something between a laugh and a moan. “Uh, I don’t know that I’ve ever really done what I wanted to do.”

“Clementine.”

He said her name in a soft, scolding way and she looked at him with a pained smile. “Forget I said that, Quito. I guess you could say I’ve been busy. I worked for my father’s company up until I was twenty-five, then I married a businessman from Houston. That lasted nearly five years. The past couple of years, I’ve been traveling abroad, donating my labor and money to needy children in war-torn countries.”

To hear that she’d been married kicked him like a mule. But to know that she was now divorced sent a surge of wicked relief rushing through him. As for Clementine volunteering to the needy, he couldn’t imagine it. Not that she wasn’t generous. She was. He’d often heard her and her parents talk about giving to different charities. But to rough it in a third world country would take a mentally and physically tough person.

“You mean, you’ve been doing work like they do in the Peace Corps?” he asked incredulously.

One corner of her full lips curled upward. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Me washing clothes in a galvanized tub on a rub board and handing out food and medicine to people who rarely see a white woman.”

Quito’s eyes slipped up and down her tall figure. She was slender, but there was also a fit look about her that said she hadn’t just been sitting on a couch eating chocolates. His eyes darted to her hands and this time he noticed her nails were cut short.

“Actually, it is. I can’t see you living in some dirt hut in the jungle.”

She laughed softly and he could see that surprising him had pleased her greatly. “I’ve been in jungles and deserts, mountains and cities, doing all sorts of work with my own two hands.”

“Why? You could just donate money,” he reasoned.

She shook her head and the sunlight rippled over her blond hair. “Not for me. Giving money isn’t the same as giving of yourself. And anyway, after the divorce, I wanted to get away from Houston.”

“A bad parting?” His eyes darted over her elusive expression.

Bad, Clementine thought with a strong urge to let out a mocking laugh. Her parting with Niles Westcott had been worse than bad, the divorce had been horrendous and now, well, she lived in fear every day of her life.

“Terrible. The only thing good about it was that there were no children to hurt.”

He was quiet for a long time and then he asked, “Why no children? I thought you always said you wanted to have several children?”

Clementine could no longer look at him. The pain in her heart had to be showing in her eyes and she couldn’t let him see. She couldn’t let him guess what a mess she’d made of her life.

Looking down at the valley stretching before them, she sighed. “That’s true. I did want children. But Niles turned out to be a far different man than I thought. I didn’t want to have a child with him. He would have made a horrible father.”

“Damn it all, Clementine. If that’s the way you felt, then why did you marry the man?”

A tear slipped from her eye and she wiped it away as she turned her head to look at him. “Because I thought I was doing the right thing.”

He shook his head and then he simply looked at her as though he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to curse or cuddle her.

Finally he moved a step closer and Clementine’s heart began to pound out of control.

“You thought you were doing the right thing when you walked away from me,” he murmured.

With a muffled cry, she suddenly stepped forward and buried her face in the middle of his chest.

“Forgive me, Quito. Please forgive me.”




Chapter Three


His fingers pushed into her silky hair and he stroked the back of her head soothingly.

“Clementine, whatever you’re thinking, I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.” He bent his head and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. “You were very young then. And there’s no need to rehash the past now. Just because we were once lovers doesn’t mean we can’t be friends now. Hmm?”

Clementine wanted to slip her arms around him and hold him for long, long moments. She wanted to breathe in that remembered scent of his skin and hair, feel the strength of his arms curling around her. But she couldn’t invite or provoke any sort of affection from this man. She loved him too much to make his life miserable a second time.

After a minute or so, his forefinger came under her chin and he tilted her face up to his. Clementine blinked the moisture from her eyes and struggled to smile at him.

“Of course we can be friends, Quito. I’d like that very much.”

“Good. I’d like it, too.”

Her eyes slid to his mouth and her stomach began to flutter as though the wings of thousands of birds were taking flight inside of her.

“Uh, maybe we’d better go down now,” she told him. “I’m sure you’re getting tired.”

Their eyes met and she licked her lips. Quito cleared his throat and stepped back.

“Yeah. It’s time I got back to town. Or my deputies will be sending out a search party.”

The two of them stepped back into the bedroom and Quito latched the sliding door behind him. After they’d gone downstairs and were about to leave the foyer, Quito asked, “What are you going to do with the place? Sell it?”

Clementine finished cuing in the alarm system, then opened the door.

“I’m not sure. I came up here with intentions of putting it on the market. But now that I see it, I don’t know, it still seems like home. Doesn’t that sound silly? It’s been eleven years since I stepped foot on the place, yet in many ways it seems like only yesterday.”

Quito couldn’t admit to her that it felt the same way to him. Each time he looked at Clementine, it felt as if nothing had changed. No years had passed. He felt like he still had the right to pull her into his arms and kiss her as many times as he wanted. But he had to remember that everything had changed.

“Well, you did live here for three years,” he reasoned.

“Yes, but compared to eleven that’s not very many,” she replied.

The two of them left the porch and walked down the long wide steps that would take them off the cliff side and onto the flat, parking area.

Quito made the trip going down much more easily and when they reached the vehicles she was relieved to see that his breathing seemed normal.

“It’s obvious you’re not staying here,” Quito said as they walked to her car first. “Did you find a place in town?”

She nodded. “The Apache Junction Hotel. But who knows, I might clean up part of this place and stay for a few days.” She glanced wistfully around her. “It would be nice to vacation in the cooler, dryer air for a while. When I left Houston, the city was under a hurricane watch.” And not just from the weather, either, she thought, grimly.

She’d heard from the little birds she kept on lookout that Niles had been hunting everywhere for her. Thankfully he hadn’t learned that she’d gone to Afghanistan and her time there had been relatively peaceful. She only wished she could have a few days here in San Juan county before he caught on to her trail.

“There’s nothing stopping you from staying is there?” he asked.

She swallowed hard as he reached down and opened the car door for her. “No. Not really,” she lied. “I do have another trip planned soon to South America, some of the mountain villages there. This time I’m hoping to get a driver and a truck full of food and medicine through the bandits that control the areas. We tried once before and they stopped us with machine guns and forced us to hand the goods over to them.”

“Hell fire, Clementine, you could be killed going off on such ventures,” he cursed.

She slid behind the steering wheel, then lifted a steady gaze to his.

“I could get killed in Houston, too.”

He frowned and sensing he was going to start asking her questions that she didn’t want to answer, she started the engine.

Quito shut the door to the sleek black, sports car and stepped back. “Will I see you again before you leave?”

It wouldn’t be wise. She would eventually pay for these few minutes she’d spent with him this morning. The short time was already burned into her memory and once she returned to Houston, she would relive them over and over like a spinster reliving her first and only kiss.

“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you want to?”

A devilish smile suddenly crooked his mouth and he bent his head through the open window and kissed her.

The intimate contact had been the last thing she expected. And for a moment she was stunned motionless as his lips made a gentle foray over hers and then slowly, her mouth opened and her hand came up to cup the side of his face.

How could it be that the taste of him, the feel of his lips were so sweetly the same? she wondered. And how could it be that she still wanted him so badly?

By the time he pulled his head back slightly from hers, she could feel her pulse beating wildly in her temples, like a drum warning her to stop, stop, stop.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She thought he was moving way too fast. She even thought he might be trying to make of fool of her, to hurt her for walking away all those years ago. But Quito had never been a spiteful person and there didn’t seem to be any hidden motives in his eyes, only a bit of lust.

“All right,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I’ll take you out for dinner tomorrow night. Can you make it?”

Smiling, he stepped back from the car. “You can call me at the office,” he told her. “I’m usually there until six.”

She nodded then waved goodbye and raised the window. Thankfully the glass was tinted darkly and hid the worried expression on her face as she drove away.



The next morning Quito was sitting at his desk signing off on a request for two arrest warrants when his secretary, Juliet, buzzed the intercom. “Sir, Dr. Hastings is on line two. Can you speak with her?”

Quito frowned. The under sheriff’s wife was a medical doctor and had a thriving practice in a small clinic just a few blocks away from the department. Although she’d been a longtime friend, he couldn’t imagine why she would want to speak to him this morning. Unless she wanted to talk to him about Jess.

“Yes, I’ll get it, Juliet.” He reached for the phone. “Good morning, Victoria. What gives me the pleasure of hearing your voice this morning?”

“Hi, Quito. I know you’re busy, but I’m keeping a promise. Your doctor in Farmington called and asked if I would give you a checkup. He’s leaving town and won’t be back for a couple of weeks. Apparently your checkup was due today, is that right?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Just a minute.” He flipped open an appointment book. “Yeah. Here it is. It’s this afternoon. Juliet would have probably reminded me, but I’d forgotten.”

Victoria chuckled. “That’s what we have secretaries for, Quito.” She paused, then said, “Let’s see, it looks like this morning I’ve got a space between patients. Can you be over here in fifteen minutes?”

Quito straightened up in his chair. “You really weren’t kidding?”

“Of course I wasn’t kidding. Did you think this was just a ploy to get you over here so I could see your chest?” she teased.

“That’s just it. Jess might not like you looking at me in such a—personal way.”

Victoria laughed again. “I’ve got a news flash for you, Quito. Jess knows that I look at men’s bodies every day. He’s used to it. Now quit making excuses and get over here.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll be there. But I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” she cheerily replied, then promised, “I’ll try to end your suffering as quickly as I can.”

Quito assured her that she’d see him in a few minutes, then hung up the phone.

By car, the doctor’s office was less than two minutes away. When he entered the clinic there were several patients seated in the outer waiting room. He walked over to the receptionist, expecting her to tell him to have a seat and wait like the rest, but instead she jerked her thumb toward the back where the examination rooms were located.

“Go on back to Room 2, Sheriff. She’s waiting on you.”

He found Victoria in the square, sterile looking room. The tall brunette was dressed in a white lab coat and standing at a small counter scribbling something on a chart. When she looked up, she smiled at him.

“I wish all my patients were this prompt,” she said and gestured toward the examining table. “Have a seat, Quito, get comfortable and remove your shirt. This isn’t going to hurt.”

He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders as she adjusted the earpieces of her stethoscope.

“Maybe not,” he said. “But it’s silly. Dr. Holloway knows I’m on the mend. What is there to look at anyway?”

“Be quiet and let me listen,” she ordered as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

Victoria Hastings was a young, beautiful woman and as she thumped and probed and ordered him to breathe deeply, he could only wonder why it was that she, nor any other woman, ever affected him the way Clementine did. Why did he only feel that pull of attraction when he thought about or looked upon the blond Texas beauty?

Eventually Victoria put away her stethoscope and handed him his shirt. “Okay, Sheriff Perez, you’re finished. I pronounce you fit.”

He looked at her with surprise. “You mean, I can go off light duty now? I can do anything I want?”

Her smile turned wry. “Within reason,” she said. “Just don’t try to tear out any old fence posts. Or ride a bucking bronc. On the other hand, you should be walking as much as you can to help your lungs get back to full strength.”

“I’ll try,” he told her as he buttoned his shirt.

“You’re a lucky man, Quito. A lesser man would have died from the wounds you suffered.”

He shook his head. “I’m not any tougher than the next guy, Victoria. It was all those candles that were lit for me. All the prayers said.”

Smiling, she patted him on the shoulder. “I think you’re probably right, Quito.” She looked at him with thoughtful concern. “How have you been doing otherwise? Nightmares? Trouble sleeping?”

“It’s getting better,” he said. Although, he didn’t admit to lying awake most of the night last night. That problem had occurred because his mind had been consumed with Clementine, not the thug who’d shot him full of holes.

“I can prescribe something for you if you need it. Just let me know,” she offered. “Or if you need to talk to someone other than a man wearing a badge, just pick up the phone and call me.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Victoria. I’ll remember that.”

She folded her arms across her chest and looked at him with renewed interest. “Uh, now that we’ve got the medical stuff out of the way, I heard through the grapevine that Clementine Jones is back in town. Is that right?”

His gaze slipped to the toes of his black cowboy boots. “Yeah. That’s right.”

“Have you seen her yet?”

He nodded. “We spent a little time together yesterday,” he admitted. He lifted his gaze back to Victoria. “Have you seen her?”

Victoria shook her head. “No. Where is she staying? Out at the Jones house?”

“No. She’s at the Apache Junction.”

Frowning, Victoria said, “That’s not necessary. I’ll see if she wants to come out to the ranch and stay with us while she’s here. Uh, how long does she plan to stay?”

The question caused him to stiffen inside, but he tried to sound as casual as he could as he answered, “I don’t know. Probably not long.”

Victoria’s brows lifted ever so slightly and Quito wanted to curse. The woman was just too sharp. No doubt she’d picked up on the tinge of bitterness in his voice.

Her expression suddenly grew empathetic. “I’m sure seeing her again was tough on you.”

Quito did his best to appear cool. That’s the way a lawman had to be when he was under fire.

He released a long, weary breath. “A little. But it was good to see her, too. I’m glad she’s come back. I think it was about time.”

Victoria studied him thoughtfully. “So you’ve always expected her to return someday?”

Had he? In the deepest part of him, he knew he would see her again one day. He’d just not known how long it would be before she came back to this corner of New Mexico, back to the call of his heart.

“I did. Don’t ask me why. But I did.”

“Well, I won’t ask you what this means to you. You probably don’t even know yourself.”

“Thanks, Victoria.”

He was sliding off the examining table when nurse Nevada Ortiz knocked on the door and poked her head inside the room.

“Victoria, Mrs. Grayson is getting so irate about waiting on you that she’s threatening to get dressed and go home.”

The doctor tossed Quito an amused look. “Excuse me, Sheriff, I believe you know how it is to deal with irate citizens.”

The two women quickly disappeared and Quito left the building feeling happy about his medical report, but troubled about his thoughts of Clementine. It didn’t matter that he was still in love with the woman and had been for the past thirteen years. That was an affliction he would never get over. It was something he had to live with no matter if she was miles and miles away from him or just across the room.

He couldn’t allow himself to start thinking, hoping that she would somehow change her mind and decide she wanted to live here with him. She’d been born into wealth. She didn’t know any other lifestyle. If she tried to live here permanently, she’d be a fish out of water. And he’d be a sucker fish to think she could change.

When Quito returned to the building that housed his staff of lawmen and the jail, he stuck his head into Juliet’s cubbyhole to collect any messages she might have taken for him, then quickly walked down the hallway to his office. The door was ajar and he was a little more than surprised to hear voices from inside.

Without bothering to knock, he entered the room and was taken aback to see Clementine sitting in the chair in front of his desk. And in his own chair Jess was leaning back with his boots crossed and a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Well, it’s good to see you’ve been taking care of my office while I was away,” he said to Jess.

Laughing, the under sheriff rose to his feet. “Sorry, Quito. Clementine wanted to see you so I brought her back here. I knew you wouldn’t be long. My wife doesn’t have time to dally around with her patients. Especially the male ones.”

Rolling his eyes at Jess, he said, “You don’t deserve that woman.”

Jess chuckled. “I know it.” As he started out of the room, he glanced at Clementine. “See if you can get him in a better mood, will you?”

She nodded in a conspiring way. “I’ll do my best.”

The under sheriff disappeared out the door and Quito walked over to where Clementine sat with her long bare legs crossed and an impish smile on her berry-colored lips.

“Jess has been catching me up on all the news around here.”

“I’m sure. That was easier than handing you a copy of the Aztec Gazette.”

His dry comment pulled a soft laugh from her, which only made Quito frown more.

“I’m not talking about that sort of news,” she said. “I mean personal stuff. He told me that he and Victoria has been married for nearly two years now and that they have two children. A girl, Katrina, and a baby boy, Sam. He also told me that Ross got married, too. I always remembered him as the wild one of the Ketchum boys. I guess the years have settled him down.”

“He has a beautiful Apache wife. I think she’s settled him down more than the years,” he said, then looked at her pointedly. “Are you here to chat about the social goings on of Aztec or was there some other reason?”

The smile fell from her face. “Boy, did they give you a shot over at the doctor’s office? You’re behaving like you’ve been jabbed with something.”

Realizing he was sounding out of sorts, he let out a deep breath and lifted the gray Stetson from his head. Running a hand over his crow-black hair, he said, “Sorry. I’ve had a lot of distractions this morning.”

Her blue eyes were full of concern as they flicked over him. “What did the doctor say? Are you healing?”

At least that was something he could be happy about, Quito thought. “She says I’m well enough to do pretty much anything I want.”

A bright smile replaced the serious expression on Clementine’s face. “That’s wonderful news. So that means you’re well enough to have a picnic.”

Quito stared at her. “A picnic! Hell, Clem, I’m too old for that sort of thing.”

She rose to her feet and Quito’s breath lodged somewhere in the middle of his throat as her face came dangerously near to his.

“Old?” she murmured. “Quito, there’s nothing about you that’s old.”

His nostrils flared as he drank in the flowery spices that scented her skin. “Uh, I thought you were going to take me out to dinner.”

“I was. But I decided it would be nicer not to go to some busy restaurant where people would be staring. Even though it’s been eleven years, I doubt that people have forgotten that we were an item. There’ll be gossip everywhere that the old flames between us have burst to life again. That might hurt you politically and I wouldn’t want that to happen.”

Quito cursed. “What goes on between you and me is nobody’s business but ours.”

She shrugged. “All right, if that’s the way you feel. But I still want to have the picnic,” she said cheerfully. “I thought we might drive up to the mountains and walk to the meadow. You remember the one with the willow trees, where we caught the trout?”

Remember? How could he forget? It was the spot where they’d made love for the very first time. Was she trying to kill him with memories or was she simply wanting to relive the past?

Either way, he should give her a flat-out no. He didn’t want those old flames between them fanned for any reason. She’d already burned him badly. Much more from her and he’d be nothing more than a useless pile of ashes.

“I remember.” Her blue eyes caught his and he felt his heart jump into a dangerous rhythm. “What time do you want for me to meet you?”

Smiling with pleasure, she grabbed both his hands and squeezed. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll pick you up here. What time?”

He felt wicked and indecent and stupid. But for the first time in years, he felt alive.

“Six.”

She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss upon his cheek. “I’ll be here.”




Chapter Four


Later that evening, Quito was signing a request for additional funding for equipment when a soft knock sounded on his door.

Knowing it was Clementine, he picked up the document and switched off the light on his desk. Then reaching for his Stetson, he slapped it on and went to open the door.

She was standing on the other side, a soft smile on her face and a light in her blue eyes that stirred his imagination.

“Ready?” she asked.

He nodded. “Just let me drop this by Julie’s office and then we’ll be on our way.”

She walked along beside him as they made their way down the wide corridor and the perfume she’d been wearing earlier drifted once again to his nostrils. She smelled sweet and lusty at the same time and he was amazed at the sexual urges suddenly stirring his body.

Three weeks ago, he’d been almost dead. On top of that, he had not seen this woman in eleven years. How could his body suddenly turn into a wild buck deer?

Outside on the sidewalk, she pointed to where her car was parked several spaces on down the street from the building. “I have everything loaded into the trunk,” she told him. “Do you think we still have enough daylight to make it to the meadow?”

Rather than glance at his watch, Quito turned a narrowed eye on the ball of hot sun. “It will be nearly nine before darkness falls. We’ll have time. But I don’t think we should drive your car. Let’s take my SUV,” he suggested. “That way if we have to go over some rough spots, we’ll have four-wheel drive.”





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