Sheriff’s Runaway Witness

She laughed, a tiny whimper of sound her fingers tried to stifle. Then she needed to speak, and there seemed to be no place to put that hand that wasn’t a part of him. It fluttered between them like a drunken moth as she fumbled for words. “I’m not used to such-they’re so much bigger now…”

“I guess that’s pretty normal. What with nursing, and uh…you know.”

His voice was a rocky rumble she could feel, and she realized her hand, the one holding the towel, was resting, idle, on his back. And that his skin was warm and smooth beneath her fingers, and that she could feel the thumping of his heart. The heat from his body was like a fur wrap, enveloping her…drawing her closer. But she was already too close…so close, she knew it would take very little-almost nothing-to touch her lips to his.

I want to kiss him. What would happen if I did?

She wondered…and was afraid to take the risk. Until it occurred to her that seconds had ticked by-and seconds were eons long in that time-and he hadn’t moved. His eyes still blazed into hers, and his heartbeat…

His heartbeat was a tattoo against her palm, hard and fast, as fast as hers.

Is it possible? Can it be he finds me attractive, even the way I look now, even after all he’s seen?

Get real, the voice of reason said inside her head. And another voice answered, Why not find out? Are you brave enough to take the chance?

Between the thought and the action there was no time at all. Space, perhaps, for one almost indistinguishable catch in her breathing…and then her lips were touching his, and the shape of his mouth, its texture and warmth, were an anticipated delight-like opening a birthday present and finding within the very thing most desired.

He didn’t pull away, and joy surged inside her; her lips curved tremulously into a smile. The unoccupied hand that had wanted so badly to touch him now did so, coming to rest along the side of his face. The roughness of his beard seemed familiar to her, somehow, as if touching him like this was something she’d imagined doing for a long, long time.

Time.

Seconds, she discovered, could last for eons, but they could also be the briefest of moments. For just such a flash of time, she felt his mouth soften…cling to hers…breath whisper from parted lips. Then…she was left trembling, with nothing but space and coldness where the warmth had been.

He cleared his throat, muttered something she couldn’t hear. She jerked back, the towel, smelling of baby formula, pressed to her lips.

“Sorry,” he said in his gravel-filled voice.

What for? I don’t think you did any permanent damage. Did I damage you? She wanted to hurl that at him. Mocking him. Instead, she let him place her baby in her arms. And didn’t say a word, not even to ask him something as adult and reasonable as, What’s with the mixed signals, you…jerk?

“Really,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers, narrowed and glittering so that whatever emotions might have been behind them were hidden from her. “I’m sorry-won’t happen again.” He paused, seemed to collect himself, grunted, “See you in the morning,” and left her standing there, rigid, with her cheeks burning and her body cold as ice.

“I’d like to go riding today,” Rachel announced at breakfast.

J.J. set his coffee cup down-carefully. Josie, having just refilled his cup, paused with the coffeepot in one hand to give her a look-not of doubt, exactly, but certainly of some concern.

“I feel fine,” Rachel said to Josie, well aware she was avoiding looking at J.J. directly. “It’s been almost a week, and I didn’t have any stitches or tearing.” She didn’t falter when she saw J.J. wince. Quite clearly. “And I don’t plan on running any races or jumping over fences. I seriously doubt Sage would put me on a bucking bronco, so…if you wouldn’t mind looking after Sean for an hour or so this morning…”

“Of course, I don’t mind. And all of our horses are gentle. And very well trained,” Josie said with a smile and a glance at J.J. “Sage trained them himself. He has a ‘way’ with horses. I’ll call him and tell him to saddle one for you.”

“Tell him to make that two,” J.J. said.

“There’s no need for you to go,” Rachel said, as Josie’s smile brightened. She picked up her cup of Ovaltine and drank, lashes lowered. “If you really don’t trust me to go alone, Sage can come with me.”

“Oh, but I think-” Josie began.

“J.J. is afraid of horses,” Rachel solemnly explained. J.J.’s coffee cup hit the table with a metallic clang. “Just because I don’t like to ride doesn’t mean I’m afraid of horses. I can ride a damn horse.” He shoved back his chair and stood up. At the door to the kitchen he paused to fire a parting shot over his shoulder. “I’ll be ready whenever you are. And don’t even think about going without me.”

Josie stared after him, started to follow, then came back to the table. Rachel picked up her cup and drank more Ovaltine to hide the fact that she was shaking inside.

“I think you hurt his feelings,” Josie said.

Rachel licked her lips and cleared her throat. “I don’t think he has feelings,” she said carefully.

Josie set the coffeepot on the table. “What makes you say that?”

“If he does, I have no idea what they are. He sure doesn’t show any to me.”

“Well, of course he doesn’t.”

Rachel shot Josie a look. “What do you mean by that?”

Josie folded her arms across her waist and fingered a button on the front of her blouse. She closed her eyes for a moment, then said, “Okay, I wasn’t going to say anything, especially after you told me-I thought you would…I don’t know, figure things out for yourself, but maybe…” She took a breath. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“He’s in love with you,” Josie said.

Rachel felt as if she’d been struck. Then she had an absurd impulse to laugh. Her mouth was dry, and her pulse was jumping in surprising places. She said faintly, “What makes you say a thing like that? We hardly know each other.”

Josie pulled out a chair and perched on the edge of it. “It’s obvious. The way he looks at you-” Her mouth tilted wryly in what wasn’t quite a smile. “I know what a man in love looks like, and trust me-he is in love with you.”

For a moment-just a moment-she let herself believe in the possibility. If-and it was a huge if-he could find her attractive, then why not? But how could he? He’d been in love many times, he’d said so himself. What on earth would make him even consider a woman with giant seeping breasts and a flabby stomach?

“How could he be?” she said to Josie, in a hard, flat voice. She swept a hand downward across herself. “Look at me. My body is completely unappealing. And even if I looked like…like something else, clearly-there’s not going to be any possibility of sex, not in the immediate future, anyway. What man would bother?”

“Oh, my.” Josie closed her eyes briefly, then smiled. “But, isn’t that every woman’s fantasy, to have a man love her for reasons that don’t involve sex? I’ll bet that if you were to ask almost any woman what she wants most from a man, it would be that he will love her for who she is, as she is, not for what she looks like, and how available the sex is.”

Rachel was silent, thinking of Nicholas, who had almost certainly loved her for her looks and for the sex.

She tried to swallow around the ache in her throat, and it made a sticky sound. “He sure doesn’t act like it,” she muttered.

Josie waved her hand impatiently. “Of course he doesn’t. I’m sure he thinks it’s the last thing you would want- or need. You lost your husband not so long ago, and you just had his baby. You’re a new mother and a grieving widow.” She paused to give Rachel a searching look. “You are, aren’t you?”

Rachel swallowed again, but the ache in her throat stayed the same. To her dismay, she heard herself mumble, “I thought I was. Lately I haven’t been so sure-”

“Sure of what, dear?”

She took a breath. “Sure that what I had is worth grieving for. I mean, I thought I loved my husband.” She glared fiercely at Josie, then covered her eyes with her hand. “I did. But lately, especially since-”