The Sheriff. Jan Hudson

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СКАЧАТЬ with a clean tablecloth and set aside a couple of the other cloths for her covers. After turning off the overhead lights, she picked up the book Katy had chosen and began to read by the glow of the table lamp.

      Her daughter was so droopy-eyed that she fell asleep before Mary Beth got to page three of the storybook. Exhausted from the trip, she thought that she would fall asleep quickly, too, and twisted and turned until she was reasonably comfortable, given that the bench was a foot shorter than she was.

      Sleep didn’t come.

      Her foot throbbed like crazy. It needed some support.

      Carefully she scooted from the booth, trying not to disturb her bedding. Naturally, the tablecloth and the serape followed her and fell on the floor. She shook them out and repositioned them.

      Using only one crutch, she limped to a chair at a nearby table and quietly dragged it toward the booth.

      It screeched.

      She froze and glanced toward Katy. Her daughter was still.

      Trying again, she wrestled the chair into position with minimal racket. Using another serape from the wall for padding, she covered the seat and climbed back into her makeshift bed. By that time, she’d broken into a clammy sweat and lay back exhausted.

      The extension made things better. Not great, but better.

      Events of the day replayed in her brain—especially her time with J.J. His masculine scent haunted her, the smell of his fresh-starched collar and the faint citrus of his shaving lotion. It stirred old memories of playing in his truck, of his warm embraces, of his kisses, of the feel of his hand on her skin. A shiver ran over her. Funny how evocative smells were, as if they were attached to memories with strong threads. There had always been a special magic between them that made her knees go weak and her brain shut down. One look from him, one simple touch, and she knew that the magic was still there.

      She thought of him over the years, wondering how his life had gone. Strange that he’d never married—not that she planned to get involved with him again. He was the type who would march in and take over, and that was the very worst kind of man for her. Magic or not, this wasn’t the time to get involved with another man. She’d be smart to avoid him. Yet his eyes…

      Stop thinking about him! She had to get some rest.

      She was tired, so tired.

      But her body buzzed like a high-wire and her brain felt as if hummingbirds were having a convention inside her head. She tried every relaxation technique she’d ever heard of. Nothing worked.

      In the middle of her second set of deep-breathing exercises, she heard it. Little scurrying noises.

      Her eyes popped wide-open. She would never get to sleep now.

      J.J. COULDN’T SLEEP. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Mary Beth’s face. By thinking about her and not paying attention to his business, he’d damn near been run over by a semi when he was herding Cletus’s cows off the highway. Even a couple of beers at the Rusty Bucket and a little flirting with Tami who’d served them hadn’t taken the edge off his preoccupation with Mary Beth—with remembering old times.

      He turned over, punched his pillow and tried again.

      It was no use.

      Finally he gave it up, pulled on a pair of jeans and strolled out onto the second-floor balcony of his fourplex. He leaned against the railing and stared down at the full moon reflected in the swimming pool.

      The image reminded him of Mary Beth’s shimmering hair. Even after all these years, he could remember the way her hair smelled. Like honeysuckle. And he could remember the taste of her lips and the softness of her skin.

      He thought he’d gotten over her long ago. Obviously he hadn’t. One glance at her and all the fires sprang to life again. Guess people always remembered their first loves with tenderness. He certainly remembered his—he’d thought of Mary Beth often over the year. But seeing her get off that bus, he remembered why they weren’t together. She’d broken his heart.

      He’d dated more women than he could keep up with after she’d dumped him and moved away. None of them could hold a candle to her. He rarely saw anyone for long. Just didn’t seem to find that spark with anybody. His mother had worried about him, and his brothers had called him a lovesick fool. Then a few years ago, he’d met somebody when he was visiting friends in Dallas. Tess had looked a little like Mary Beth, only taller. Smelled like her, too. They’d carried on hot and heavy for two years—even talked about getting married, but things hadn’t worked out. Tess wasn’t about to move to Naconiche and he hated the notion of living in Dallas. Tess found someone who loved city life, and she’d given him his walking papers.

      He hadn’t been as broken up about it as he should have been.

      Figuring that he ought to set his sights closer to home, J.J. had tried keeping company with a first-grade teacher at the local elementary school. Pretty young woman. Sweet natured. Crazy about Naconiche. His mama had loved Carol Ann. He’d dated her for over a year.

      But the chemistry just wasn’t there. Maybe it was because she didn’t smell right. Anyhow, as gently as he could, he ended their relationship. She married the associate pastor of the Baptist church the following year, and they had moved to the Valley when he got a church of his own there a few months ago. Carol Ann was better off with the preacher.

      Now Mary Beth was back. The spark was still there. And she still smelled like honeysuckle.

      Damn.

      One whiff, and he was like a bull after a cow at mating time.

      Fool.

      He wasn’t about to get mixed up with her again. He planned to give her a wide berth. She’d waltzed back into town, thinking she’d inherited a tidy sum. No way would she hang around when she discovered the truth. She’d be on the next bus out of town.

      That little Katy was cute as a button. She should have been his.

      But she wasn’t.

      Hell, he had to get some sleep. He strode back inside, shucking his jeans on the way to bed. He had to get his mind off Mary Beth. Anything between them was over and done with a long time ago. His plan was to totally steer clear of her and do no more than tip his hat if they met on the street. No need to go asking for trouble.

      THE NEXT MORNING, J.J. was on his third cup of coffee at the City Grill when Dwight Murdock took the stool beside him.

      “Good morning,” the lawyer said.

      J.J. merely grunted. He didn’t see a damned thing good about it. He hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours and he’d cut himself twice while he was shaving.

      “I was hoping to find you here,” Dwight said. “I’m concerned about Mary Beth Parker and her little girl.”

      “How so?”

      “Well, their sleeping accommodations for one thing.”

      “Coffee, Dwight?” Vera Whitehouse said, pouring a cup for him even as she asked.

      Vera, who wouldn’t weigh ninety pounds dripping wet, had been the СКАЧАТЬ