Case File: Canyon Creek, Wyoming

forward before he could stop himself.

She put her hands up, almost defensively, but when her fingers touched his chest, they curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

His heart rate soared as their bodies made contact. He couldn’t have stopped his physical response if he’d wanted to.

She rose to her toes and pulled his head down, slanting her head back and fitting her mouth against his. He drank in her sweetness, fire building low and slow in his belly.

“I don’t want to fight,” she whispered, sliding her lips across the edge of his jaw.

He felt himself falling into her, the last shred of resistance gone. Pushing her back toward the bed, he fell atop her, shifting so that her body cradled his. Her thighs parting to welcome him, she tugged urgently at his shirt, her eyes glazed with hunger.

“Hannah-” he began, needing to be sure she knew what was about to happen between them, but she silenced him with her mouth, drawing him down to her with strong, determined arms.

There was nothing he could do but follow her into the sweet, desperate madness.

Chapter Fourteen

She rose beneath him, her strong fingers digging into the muscles of his back. The sound of her whispered endearments seemed as familiar as his own voice. Her body opened to him, soft and furnace hot, drawing him into a web of pure pleasure that left his body weak but his soul as strong and enduring as the Wyoming mountains. She clung to him, raining kisses over his cheeks, his jaw, down the side of his neck.

He raised his head to look at her, her name trembling on his lips.

But the face gazing back at him wasn’t Emily’s.

He woke with a small start, gazing up into darkness, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. At eye level, the pale blue light of an alarm clock displayed the time. 5:30 a.m.

Tucked into the curve of his body, Hannah’s body was soft and warm. He could feel her slow, even breathing and knew she was still asleep.

The memory of their night of passion blurred with the dream that had wakened him, until he wasn’t sure what was real and what was imagination. Was this really her body, fitted to his so perfectly it seemed they’d been chiseled from the same stone? Had their bodies found, instinctively, that perfect rhythm that lovers knew, the ebb and flow of control and submission that usually came from years of intimacy?

Had it been Hannah’s face gazing back at him in his dream?

Carefully, he edged away from her. She stirred briefly but settled back into a deep, quiet sleep.

He rolled from the bed, grabbing his discarded boxers from the floor, and padded down the hall to the bathroom. He looked into the mirror over the sink, gazing curiously at the man who stared back at him in the glass.

He looked rested, he realized with surprise, despite the early hour and the exertions of the previous night. Stress lines that had creased his forehead had almost disappeared, only faint shadows marking the skin as a reminder of what had once been. His eyes looked clear, his gaze steady, devoid of pain for the first time in three long years.

About a year after Emily’s murder, when his self-imposed isolation had begun to make him crazy, he’d gone to Jackson for a weekend, just to be around people who didn’t know who he was or what he’d lost. It hadn’t been hard to find a woman as uninterested in happily-ever-after as he had been. Trips to Jackson had become a regular thing for him, once or twice a month. Just to take the edge off.

The other nights, the other women-all had left their mark. But always for the worse. Never the better.

He turned off the light and went out into the hallway, pausing outside the bathroom. What should he do now? Go back to the bedroom, where Hannah lay warm and naked between his sheets? Or to the kitchen, to get an early start on figuring out how to talk Hannah out of her crazy, dangerous plan?

She made the decision for him, emerging from the guest room wearing nothing but his shirt.

She gave him a tentative smile. “Good morning.”

Her hair was a dark tangle, framing her sleep-softened face. Her lips were pink and swollen from their kisses, and the skin of her throat was bright red from the rasp of his beard against her skin.

His body quickened in response, and he had nowhere to hide.

A slow, naughty smile spread over her sleepy face. She walked slowly down the hallway, her gaze locked with his. She stopped in front of him, lifting one hand to his chest.

“It’s cold out here in the hallway.” She slid her hand slowly down his belly, until her fingers tangled briefly in the waistband of his boxers, then dipped lower. “Why don’t we go back to bed?”

He couldn’t have said no if he wanted to.

THEY TOOK TURNS SHOWERING a couple of hours later, oddly hesitant to share that particular bit of intimacy. Maybe it was tacit acknowledgement, on both their parts, of how transient their intimacy really was.

Hannah went first, and by the time Riley emerged from the bathroom, dressed in clean jeans and a fresh, blue chambray shirt, she’d already brewed a pot of hot, strong coffee and was cracking eggs in a skillet on the stove.

“Two eggs or three?” she asked over her shoulder, trying not to picture the long, lean body hidden beneath the clothing. If she didn’t get her mind out of the bedroom, how was she going to pull off her part of Sheriff Tanner’s plan?

She couldn’t afford to be off her game today.

“Three.” Riley reached into the breadbox to pull out a loaf of wheat bread. “I’m making toast-want a piece?”

“Please.” She cracked two more eggs into the pan and let them cook sunny side up. “Sheriff Tanner didn’t call last night, did he? I didn’t hear the phone ring.”

“I checked while I was dressing. No messages.” He sounded relieved.

“I’m sure he’ll call soon.” She said it gently, not wanting to sound defensive. She hadn’t really expected a night of lovemaking to change Riley’s mind about the plan to lure the killer into a trap. If anything, it probably made him even more determined to keep her out of danger.

It had certainly made her think twice about risking her life. The closeness to Riley she’d felt, far beyond the passion and pleasure, had shown her that she could still open herself to the possibility of love.

At least, she could with Riley, she amended silently. There was no guarantee she’d find this feeling again with another man. What if Riley were the one for her, the man she’d thought she’d found in Craig before reality proved otherwise?

It would be just her luck, she thought bleakly, to fall for a man who’d forever be in love with his dead wife.

Her appetite drained away, although she forced herself to work her way through the eggs and toast on her plate. Across from her, Riley ate with gusto, his gaze playing lightly over her face. Whenever their eyes met, he smiled, tempting her to believe he might not be as out of reach as she thought.

Fortunately, the phone rang before breakfast was over, dragging her back to sober reality. Riley answered, his expression immediately going grim. He held out the receiver. “Jim Tanner for you.”

Hannah took the phone. “This is Hannah.”

Jim Tanner got right down to business. “I’ve arranged for McCoy Edwards from Channel Twelve to interview you for the five o’clock news. You’re to meet him at the station around 11:00 a.m. to pretape the segment. Can you be there?”

“Of course.” She glanced at Riley. He watched her with stormy-blue eyes.

“In fact, have Patterson bring you to my office by ten-thirty. That way I can deliver you to the station myself. Riley can come along if he likes, but not in any official capacity. We don’t want word getting around that you’re under the protection of a Canyon Creek policeman.”

“Will do,” she agreed, and rang off soon after.

Riley hung up the phone for her and returned to the table, dropping into the chair across from her. “So, you’re really going through with it?”