Chapter Three

As Joanna made her way back to the ballroom, she straightened her plaid shirt, smoothed back the stray strands of hair still escaping her tight braids, and tried to control her racing heart.

Had she pulled it off? The last thing she wanted or needed was for Deputy Ryker Kane to realize she knew exactly who he was. The odds had to be a million to one this man from her past could or would show up in her life again. One night in college. One glorious night. That’s all it had been.

Breathe. God, just breathe.

She snuck a quick peek over her shoulder toward the front door. He looked even better than she remembered. With his dark eyes fringed by long dark lashes and those toned, muscled biceps, he definitely turned his fair share of heads. The man was way too easy on the eyes, his sexy grin drawing you in and making you feel all kinds of special. He’d probably left more than a few hearts bruised and fragmented over the years.

A good thing Keith, her longtime friend and confidant, found her at the corner coffee shop the morning after. She’d gone out to pick up breakfast for the two of them once Ryker jumped in the shower. Finding out she’d been the object of a bet Ryker and his friends made at the bar the night before had stung. Especially after all the fun they’d had, not to mention their heartfelt conversations and the hot, frenzied time spent between the sheets. Dang it. The memories still sent flashes of heat rushing through her body. Her only consolation was they hadn’t taken it all the way—that would have been the ultimate humiliation.

Once, a long time ago, she’d believed in the fairy-tale ending. Actually dreamed of her knight in shining armor. The one who’d whiz into her life and carry her away to their very own paradise. But that nonsense passed quickly, and she grew up. Over the years, life had taught her one important lesson. Men let you down no matter how good their intentions were. Selfish tendencies always seemed to weasel in and win out.

“Wowzers, Jo Jo. Who’s the six-foot, broad-shouldered hunk of a man in the dark khakis?”

Joanna smiled. This girl was her one true constant.

“What?” Joanna pretended to be so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed Sam walk up behind her.

“Ah…so you were checking him out, too.” Sam nodded, giving her a knowing wink.

“Shut up. No, I wasn’t.” Picking up her pace, she tried to change the subject. “As usual, Dad’s not happy.”

“About Mr. Too-Good-Looking? Or you watching Mr. Too-Good-Looking?”

“Samantha!”

Sam shrugged at Joanna’s outburst and frowned “Sorry, hon. Didn’t mean to hit a nerve. Just wondering who the guy was, that’s all.”

“Aw, man. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…Dad didn’t even acknowledge how great the ballroom looks. All he cared about was the cop asking questions. Dear Daddy didn’t want his reputation tainted before the party.”

“Good Looking’s a cop?” Both her friend’s brows raised. “Wow, didn’t know they came like that these days. He must be skipping the donut runs.” She snickered, clearly trying to lighten the somber mood.

“He’s a deputy.” Joanna sighed, shoving the annoying hint of familiarity from her tone. “For the Bram Sheriff’s Department. And that cliché about the donuts is so old.” She rolled her eyes. Clearly, Sam hadn’t gotten close enough to know who he was, and she wasn’t about to tell her. At least not now.

“A deputy? You don’t say. Even better.”

She gave her friend a stern glare. “Looks like my crew reported the truck missing in Bram, of all places, after being held up at gunpoint, and then went missing themselves.”

“Wait. What the freakin’ hell? Gunpoint? And Bram is going the wrong way. Weird. On both accounts. Why would someone do that?” Sam tapped a manicured finger on her chin. “Why didn’t they call you to come get them? Tell you what happened? I mean, you’ve worked with them for over a year now. And Keith was with them, right? This is all so bizarre.”

…

What a day.

After his shift, Ryker and his trusty old dog, Dumb-nut, hunkered down to watch the football game on his flat screen TV hanging above the stone-accented fireplace in his living room. He scratched the dog’s ear. Poor dog got its name after refusing to quit attacking the water sprinkler every time Ryker set it up to water the lawn. He’d called him plan old Dog up until that point.

Dumb-nut whined, giving his standard poor-pitiful-me look a second try. Usually, Ryker would toss him a treat to pacify the old fella. But tonight, his thoughts were elsewhere. A place he’d never thought he’d revisit again in his lifetime.

He stretched his arms out across the back of the black sofa, resting his head against the cool leather to relieve the tension building in his neck. Gritting his teeth at the scraggly excuse of a Christmas tree he’d set up in the corner of the room, he let his mind wonder.

Joanna McNamee. What was her story? She should have been more concerned about her missing truck, regardless of the fact that she’d found it. Didn’t she want to know who took it and why? Hell, the only emotional response he saw during their entire conversation was the moment she’d asked about Keith being there.

Shit. Could Keith be that weird, skinny kid with glasses who’d hung around her? Although he’d be taller, meatier, possibly less awkward looking, maybe even decent-looking now. Sure he was younger than her, but that’s probably who she’d been spending her time with. Monied society-type, more in Jo Jo’s league than him.

He closed his eyes and allowed the image of the beautiful woman he’d run into that day take root.

Ten years was a long time. But damn, she still looked good. Who was he kidding? She was smoking hot. Even in that silly country-girl getup, complete with braids, plaid shirt buttoned just low enough to pique any man’s interest, and worn red cowboy boots.

He’d thought his raging sex drive and the alcohol were to blame for the strong feelings that rushed him that night so many years ago. Shit, they’d drunk so much tequila he’d had trouble remembering if they’d had sex. But after the fog cleared, he knew without a doubt he’d kept true to his morals. Taking advantage of a woman wasn’t his style. Damn. She’d wanted to. God, how she’d pushed him, teased him. But he’d won in the end. Holding her perfect, womanly form while she slept it off and spooned against him. The memory would forever burn deep in his brain. And his body.

They’d woken up the next morning, scantily clad, in his bed, but neither one spoke of the night’s sensual escapades. After a few pleasantries and helping her find her bra, she’d slipped out without a word when he’d gone to shower. Not a good-bye, not a note on his pillow. Nothing.

Hell, what had he been thinking? They’d barely known each other in high school. She had no idea he’d been hot for her for years. Never regarded him as anything but the nice boy who’d helped her out of a few sticky situations. The boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Except for an occasional smile, she never knew you existed, asshole. Give it a rest.

All this time, Ryker convinced himself forgetting her had been best. But seeing Jo Jo again brought all kinds of emotions crashing down on top of him like an unrelenting avalanche.

He rolled his eyes beneath his lids—fairy tales for the weak and misguided.

Dumb-nut let out a yelp to show his annoyance over being ignored.

Ryker didn’t move. He brought the satisfying memories of Jo Jo closer. Her perfume. Sweet, tangy, spicy just like her. The full arch of her lips, the round curve of her hips, the taste of her skin, and oh, the feel of her body pressed to his…how much more could he stomach before needing a good, long cold shower?

A large paw landed in his lap, right on top of the family jewels, and helped knock the imagery out of his head.

“So not cool.” He groaned, bending at the waist to help the pain dissipate. Dumb-nut hopped up to help, too, licking his face with his slobbery tongue. “Damn dog,” he growled, waving him away.

Her reasons for leaving without saying good-bye taunted him once more. He gritted his teeth.

Women were highly overrated.

So why couldn’t he let this one go?

“What’s her story, ol’ fella?”

The dog tilted his head one way and then the other from his dog bed across the room.

“Think she ran back home to Daddy after ditching me?” Odd, he thought, especially since she’d confided she was going to break free of the old man.

Another tilt of the head and a small whimper as the dog stood, wagging his bent tail.

“You know I searched for that chick months afterward? Hoped I’d catch a glimpse of her around campus or town. Pretty dumb, right?” The dog ran over and plopped down on the floor at Ryker’s feet, his head resting on the toes of Ryker’s boots.

“I know exactly how you feel.” He leaned forward, rubbing the mutt’s ear.

As he remembered it, she’d come on to him at the bar. A blond bombshell he’d always considered more his type had urged Jo Jo on from a table across the dance floor. He’d recognized Jo Jo the minute she sat down on the stool beside his but played dumb, wondering what her angle was. Since she’d kept her distance back home at the local dance halls, he decided to act clueless. See what she was up to. Imagine his surprise to find her as fun and interesting as she was attractive.

Hell, maybe the liquor had more to do with her brash actions than any interest she may, or may not, have felt for him.

He scoffed. That would certainly explain the reason she didn’t recognize him at the hotel in Houston today. She’d probably gone through a dozen men since that day. All of them had to be more suitable than him.

He winced. Not exactly the realization he wanted. He liked believing she’d felt the same strange pull he had when their eyes met that night. Idiot.