Own the Night. Debbi Rawlins

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      Either way, whether she was innocent or on the make, he had to deal with facts, which defied the likelihood that she’d been robbed in broad daylight in front of half a dozen cowboys who hadn’t seen a thing. True, the recent thefts had to be considered, but they fell into a different category, with a different M.O. The victimology was wrong.

      It could have been the varsity team, but they toed the line under the new coach. And then, too, someone could be yanking Noah’s chain because of all the attention he’d been getting from the Sundance female guests. Not Cole or Jesse. They knew better. But he wouldn’t put it past Trace to send someone like Alana into his office with some cockamamie story just to get a rise out of him.

      He stood back, holding the cell door open, and eyed the disbelief on her face. If she was faking her appalled reaction, she was a damn good actress, he’d give her that.

      “You’re kidding.” She slowly turned her head and regarded him, wide-eyed with shock. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

      “You’ll have clean sheets.”

      She covered her mouth with her hand, then quickly removed it and stiffened her spine. “I am not staying in that … that—” She shuddered. “Oh, my God. This is seriously, seriously insane. I’m already a victim and you want to further victimize me by sticking me in a jail cell?”

      “No, ma’am. The way I see it, I’m offering you a safe place to sleep.”

      She made a small, exasperated sound of distress.

      “The meals aren’t bad, either. Marge at the diner will bring over breakfast and supper.”

      “Okay,” Alana said with forced calmness, her brown eyes blazing mad. “If this is supposed to be a joke, it’s not funny in the least.”

      “You tell me. Is this a joke? Did Trace put you up to this?”

      She blinked, rubbing her left temple. “Who the hell is Trace?”

      Noah sighed. Maybe that had been reaching too far. She hadn’t been flirty or silly like the other women staying at the Sundance.

      “I apologize. It’s just that—” He cleared his throat. “You did seem to be enjoying that little scene back there,” he said, glancing toward the office.

      “Oh.” A small, guilty smile curved her generous mouth. “Well, yes, you’re right. I did.” Her gaze returned to the jail cell. “Come on, this is overkill.”

      Overkill? Took him a second. “This isn’t payback. I honestly figured this might be a good solution.” He shrugged. “At least for tonight.”

      Her lips parted and she stared at him with those pretty brown eyes. “I have money. I do. Isn’t there a hotel in town?”

      He shook his head.

      “I’d like to speak to that woman at the Sundance,” Alana insisted. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement. I’ll sleep on a couch if I have to.”

      Damn, he couldn’t let her talk to Rachel. The truth was, Rachel had offered to scare up a room for her in the family wing. Not knowing if this woman was a criminal or not, Noah couldn’t unleash her on the McAllisters. No, better he keep an eye on her until he sorted out her identity. When all was said and done, it was mighty suspicious that she wouldn’t call family or a friend.

      “I’ll tell you what,” he said, closing the cell door. “I live around the corner and I have a spare room.”

      She stared at him as if he’d asked her to submit to a strip search. “You’re suggesting I stay with you.”

      “That’s right.” Already, he was regretting the offer. Installing her at his house made sense, though. He could keep an eye on her, and if she truly was a victim, the least he could do was give her a safe place to sleep. “There’s not much to the guest room, but it has a double bed with a new mattress. Nothing else in there, but then you don’t have any luggage.”

      She nibbled at her lower lip. “Wouldn’t people talk?”

      Unprepared for that reaction, Noah laughed out loud.

      Alana glared at him. “Just because I don’t look like Cindy doesn’t mean people wouldn’t gossip behind your back.”

      He shook his head. She’d surprised him again. “I didn’t peg you for someone who gave a crap about what people thought.”

      “Believe me, I don’t.” She looked as if she meant it. In fact, she looked as if it would take a sizable quake to rattle her.

      He knew the type. She reminded him of a woman he’d dated in Chicago. Kara was a defense lawyer, a real ball-buster who’d ended up driving him nuts with her need for perfection, eye always on the prize, never taking a moment to watch the grass grow. That was one of the reasons he was having trouble buying that Alana would choose to go to a dude ranch. “Let’s get you settled in, and then we can grab supper at Marge’s. How does that sound?”

      “A toothbrush sounds better.”

      “Just so happens I have a spare at home.” He motioned for her to go first down the hall.

      “I bet you do,” she muttered under her breath as she strode past him.

      He smiled, guessing she hadn’t meant to be overheard. He followed her but stayed far enough behind to enjoy the view. The hip-length jacket got in the way, but she had nice long legs even without the heels.

      “I’m going to need a few other things,” she said over her shoulder. “I hope your office has some petty cash. Naturally, we’ll keep a record of my expenditures, and like I said earlier, I’ll reimburse you for everything.”

      They got to the outer office and she abruptly spun to face him. Caught by surprise, he nearly rammed into her. His arms shot out, and he caught her shoulders when she teetered toward him.

      “Oh, sorry.” She placed a palm on his chest and steadied herself.

      “Are you dizzy?”

      “No, not at all.” She lowered her hand.

      He didn’t let go. Her shoulders were slimmer than he’d expected, more fragile under the heavy tweed blazer. He wanted to make sure she didn’t start reeling. “That’s the second time you’ve lost your balance. Maybe we ought to stop by the clinic.”

      She adamantly shook her head, loosening the hair that had been tucked behind her ears, until it swung freely around her heart-shaped face. “If you have a piece of hard candy, that might help. I think it’s low blood sugar.”

      “Are you diabetic?”

      “No, I just haven’t eaten in a while.”

      “We’ll have to take care of that right away.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the chair.

      “Really, I’m okay.” Her laugh was short, nervous, maybe embarrassed. She refused to sit. “I’d rather go pick up some toiletries and СКАЧАТЬ