Christmas Cowboy: Will of Steel / Winter Roses. Diana Palmer

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      “You can’t know …!”

      “Of course not,” he interrupted impatiently. “You know I don’t pry. But I’ve been in law enforcement a long time, and I’ve learned to read people pretty good. You’re afraid of me when I get too close to you.”

      She bit down hard on her lower lip. She drew blood.

      “Stop that,” he said in a tender tone, touching her lower lip where her teeth had savaged it. “I’m not going to try to browbeat you into telling me something you don’t want to. But I wish you trusted me enough to talk to me about it. You know I’m not judgmental.”

      “It doesn’t have anything to do with that.”

      He cocked his head. “Can’t you tell me?”

      She hesitated noticeably. She wanted to. She really wanted to. But.

      He bent and kissed her eyelids shut. “Don’t. We have all the time in the world. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll listen.”

      She drew in a long, labored breath and laid her forehead against his suit coat. “You’re the nicest man I’ve ever known.”

      He smiled over her head. “Well, that’s a start, I guess.”

      She smiled, too. “It’s a start.”

      Four

      It was the liveliest place Jillian had ever been to. The dance band was on a platform at the end of a long, wide hall with a polished wooden floor. Around the floor were booths, not tables, and there was a bar in the next room with three bartenders, two of whom were female.

      The music was incredible. It was Latin with a capital L, pulsing and narcotic. On the dance floor, people were moving to the rhythm. Some had on jeans and boots, others were wearing ensembles that would have done justice to a club in New York City. Still others, apparently too intimidated by the talent being displayed on the dance floor, were standing on the perimeter of the room, clapping and smiling.

      “Wow,” Jillian said, watching a particularly talented couple, a silver-haired lean and muscular man with a willowy blonde woman somewhat younger than he was.

      They whirled and pivoted, laughing, with such easy grace and elegance that she couldn’t take her eyes off them.

      “That’s Red Jernigan,” he told her, indicating the silver-haired man, whose thick, long hair was in a ponytail down his back.

      “He isn’t redheaded,” she pointed out.

      He gave her an amused look. “It doesn’t refer to his coloring,” he told her. “They called him that because in any battle, he was the one most likely to come out bloody.”

      She gasped. “Oh.”

      “I have some odd friends.” He shrugged, then smiled. “You’ll get used to them.”

      He was saying something profound about their future. She was confused, but she returned his smile anyway.

      The dance ended and Theodore tugged her along with him to the dance floor, where the silver-haired man and the blonde woman were catching their breath.

      “Hey, Red,” he greeted the other man, who grinned and gripped his hand. “Good to see you.”

      “About time you came up for a visit.” Red’s dark eyes slid to the small blonde woman beside the police chief. His eyebrows arched.

      “This is Jillian,” Theodore said gently. “And this is Red Jernigan.”

      “I’m Melody,” the pretty blonde woman said, introducing herself. “Nice to meet you.”

      Red slid his arm around the woman and pulled her close. “Nice to see Ted going around with somebody,” he observed. “It’s painful to see a man come alone to a dance club and refuse to dance with anyone except the owner’s wife.”

      “Well, I don’t like most modern women.” Theodore excused himself. He smiled down at a grinning Jillian. “I like Jake, here.”

      “Jake?” Red asked, blinking.

      “He’s always called me that,” Jillian sighed. “I’ve known him a long time.”

      “She has,” Theodore drawled, smiling. “She likes cattle.”

      “I don’t,” Melody laughed. “Smelly things.”

      “Oh, but they’re not smelly if they’re kept clean,” Jillian protested at once. “Sammy is always neat.”

      “Her calf,” Theodore explained.

      “Is he a bull?” Red asked.

      “She’s a heifer,” Jillian inserted. “A little black baldy.”

      Red and Melody were giving her odd looks.

      “As an acquaintance of mine in Jacobsville, Texas, would say,” Red told them, “if Johnny Cash could sing about a girl named Sue, a person can have a girl animal with a boy’s name.” He leaned closer. “He has a female border collie named Bob.”

      They burst out laughing.

      “Well, don’t stand over here with us old folks,” Red told them. “Get out there with the younger generation and show them how to tango.”

      “You aren’t old, Bud,” Theodore told his friend with twinkling eyes. “You’re just a hair slower than you used to be, but with the same skills.”

      “Which I hope I’m never called to use again,” Red replied solemnly. “I’m still on reserve status.”

      “I know.”

      “Red was a bird colonel in spec ops,” Theodore explained to Jillian later when they were sitting at a table sampling the club’s exquisitely cooked seasoned steak and fancy baked sweet potatoes, which it was as famous as for its dance band.

      “And he still is?” she asked.

      He nodded. “He can do more with recruits than any man I ever knew, and without browbeating them. He just encourages. Of course, there are times when he has to get a little more creative, with the wilder sort.”

      “Creative?”

      He grinned. “There was this giant of a kid from Milwaukee who was assigned to his unit in the field. Kid played video games and thought he knew more about strategy and tactics than Red did. So Red turns him loose on the enemy, but with covert backup.”

      “What happened?” she asked, all eyes.

      “The kid walked right into an enemy squad and froze in his tracks. It’s one thing to do that on a computer screen. Quite another to confront armed men in real life. They were aiming their weapons at him when Red led a squad in to recover him. Took about two minutes for them to eliminate the threat and get Commando Carl back to his own lines.” He shook his head. СКАЧАТЬ