“He really does,” Winnie told Keely. “He thinks Boone will die if he isn’t there to protect him.”
Keely smiled. “He’s a sweet old boy.”
“Who, me?” Boone drawled, peering at her wickedly over his reading glasses.
“The dog!” she emphasized.
“Oh.” He went back to his spreadsheets, oblivious to the world.
Winnie chuckled. “I’ll get Bailey.”
* * *
SHE DID. SHE also got Clark and Mrs. Johnston. They all peered in from the hall, fascinated. Boone had never even brought a woman upstairs in living memory, and here he was in bed, in his pajamas, with Keely.
Clark started to speak. Boone lifted the gun, displayed it, put it back in his pocket without looking up from the spreadsheet.
“I haven’t said anything!” Clark protested. “You shouldn’t threaten people with guns just because they’re curious!”
“It’s for Keely’s father’s evil friend,” Winnie told him.
“Oh. Oh!” Clark finally got it. “Okay.”
Mrs. Johnston was grinning from ear to ear. Her white hair seemed to vibrate. She and Clark and Winnie just stood, staring and grinning. Boone reached in his other pocket and brought out a jeweler’s box, just the size to contain a ring. He displayed it, still without looking up from the spreadsheet, and put it away again. Now Keely was looking breathless, too.
“Here’s Bailey and his bed,” Winnie said as she put the dog pallet on Boone’s side of the bed. “We’ll close the door on our way out.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Boone told her curtly. “This is a respectable household. No hanky-panky above stairs.” He glared at Clark. “From anybody.”
Clark threw up his hands. “I once, only once, sneaked a girl into my room for immoral purposes. He never forgets!”
“It was an act of charity,” Winnie chided Boone. “He found her wandering all alone on a street corner and brought her home to get a blanket to put around her.”
Everybody burst out laughing, even Clark.
“All right, that’s enough. Everybody out. I’ve got work to do, then we’re going to have a decent night’s sleep.” He glanced down at Keely, who was watching him with openly worshipful eyes. He smiled tenderly. “Some of us could use it more than others.”
“I won’t argue with that,” Keely replied.
While they were looking at each other, their audience vanished.
Boone glanced at the doorway and chuckled deep in his throat as he looked down at his bedmate. “I do have evil purposes in mind,” he confided in a low tone, “but they’re probably all hiding ten feet from the door, waiting for developments. So we have to behave.”
She sighed deeply. “Okay,” she replied. Her hand, under the sheet, reached over to touch his muscular arm. She closed her eyes, comforted by the contact. “I’ve been afraid to sleep for days,” she whispered. “Now I’m not.”
He smoothed a hand over her blond hair. “Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“I know that.”
He went back to the spreadsheet. Seconds later, in the long silence that followed, three sets of eyes peered cautiously in the door.
“What?” Boone asked belligerently.
They scattered to the four winds. Bailey climbed into his bed, circled a few times, lay down and yawned and went back to sleep.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Keely heard a car drive up. She opened her eyes slowly, disoriented. She was lying next to a warm, hard body that had her wrapped up gently against it. They were both under the covers.
Boone looked down at her warmly. “Ready for breakfast?” he asked softly. “I hear movement from the general direction of the kitchen.”
She curled closer. “I could eat.”
They were both on her side of the bed and had apparently been close like that all night. Keely felt so safe and cozy that she was reluctant to move.
Voices murmured downstairs, and heavy, quick footsteps came up the staircase. Hayes Carson walked in, his uniform a little rumpled, like his blond, brown-streaked hair under his Stetson.
He stopped, lifting both eyebrows.
Boone yawned. “I’ve got a gun,” he murmured.
“I haven’t said anything yet,” Hayes protested.
Boone glared at him. “To protect Keely with,” he added.
“Oh.”
Hayes marched over to the bed, threw his hat on the carpeted floor, climbed in next to Boone and lay back on the pillows. “God, I’m tired! I’ve been up all night helping interrogate Keely’s father and his friend.”
“Make yourself comfortable,” Boone drawled sarcastically.
“Thanks, I will,” Hayes replied. “This is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been in,” he added. He reached down, scooped up his hat and set it over his eyes. “I could sleep for a week!”
“Tell me what you’re doing here first,” Boone said.
“In order to save his skin, Keely’s father made a plea deal. He gave us his friend Jock on a murder charge. It seems that Jock killed a woman in Arizona. He was the chief suspect, but they couldn’t get the evidence to convict him. Keely’s father has a watch that belonged to the dead woman, and he can put Jock there at the time of the murder.” He smiled under the hat.
“What about my father?” Keely wanted to know.
“Three to five, on accessory charges. We talked to the assistant D.A. last night, too.”
“Maybe it will teach him something,” Keely said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
“Don’t look for miracles,” Boone advised. “With lawbreakers, they rarely happen.”
“Like you know,” Hayes drawled from under the hat. He crossed his long legs.
There was the sound of another car arriving. A car door slammed. Voices murmured. Another sound of footsteps, but these were soft and quick and almost undetectable.
Kilraven poised in the doorway, staring. “Well, if that isn’t just like county law enforcement,” he muttered. “Walk out in the middle of an interrogation and leave the hard work to the local law!”
“Shut up, Kilraven,” Hayes said pleasantly. “I haven’t slept since night before last.”
“Like I have!” Kilraven shot back. He scowled. He shrugged. “Hell, maybe you’re right. A little rest might perk us all up. Hi, Keely,”
