On Saturday night they’d gone to the roadhouse again. Mary had danced with Clint, but not so many times that people might talk. He’d also danced with a couple of other women, but never with Katie’s friend Tracy.
On Sunday morning, Mary had put on tasteful makeup and one of her conservative suits and gone to church with Clint, Wes and Katie—ignoring Clint’s protests. No wonder he’d tried to make her stay home! He might sing in the choir to appease Miz Emily, but he wasn’t very good. Since the rest of the choir was no better, he fit in nicely.
They spent the next couple of days working long hours, getting ready for their trip to Birmingham. With each passing day, Mary grew more anxious. The adrenaline was pumping, her mind was spinning. She knew the feeling well; she was preparing to do battle.
She loved her job.
Clint had not been his usual self for the past two or three days. He’d been almost distant, his thoughts definitely elsewhere. Jokes had been few and far between, and he neatly ignored their two kisses, as did she. He had something on his mind. Something he did not want to share.
Mary helped Katie with the supper dishes. The pregnant woman had protested that a guest should not be doing chores, but Mary insisted. When Mary insisted, she got what she wanted.
“Are you excited?” Katie asked as she rinsed off a plate.
“Sure,” Mary said truthfully. “Tomorrow is the day.” She felt her heart pumping, and it seemed that every color, every sound, was more intense and precise than it had been yesterday.
“I never knew a girl who wanted to be a rodeo clown before.”
Mary didn’t bother to tell Katie that she was not a girl. There hadn’t been any insult intended, she knew that. “It should be fun,” she said simply.
Katie grinned widely. “You sound just like Clint.”
Without pausing in her drying chores, Mary asked, “I do?”
“Yep. He’s always got to have something going on, you know what I mean? He spends plenty of time here at the ranch, and I think he loves it. But after a while he’s got to go off somewhere and do something exciting.”
Like white-water rafting, or being a rodeo clown. Or falling for the wrong woman. “He’s here at the ranch most of the time, though, right?”
“I guess,” Katie answered, as if she were not quite sure of her answer. “But after a while he gets antsy, you know? He starts to fidget.”
She could understand that. It was one of the reasons why she loved being a part of a flying squad. No desk for her…at least, not for very long. Maybe Clint was a kindred spirit, a like-minded sort, a…what was she thinking?
“When Clint settles down and gets married that will change.” Mary nodded her head and made herself imagine the life Clint would someday make for himself here at this ranch. The little woman, a herd of children. Peach cobbler and racing horses. The roller coaster.
“I don’t know,” Katie said skeptically. “A man is what he is, you know? I can’t see Clint ever really settling down.”
Again, something they had in common.
Anxious to change the subject, Mary nodded to Katie’s rounded belly. “Are you getting anxious?” She knew the answer to that question, from the way Katie talked about her unborn child.
The mother-to-be grinned widely. “I can hardly wait. Just a little over two months, that’s the day. Wes is so tickled that it’s going to be a boy. He always said he wanted our first child to be a son.”
“What about you?”
The girl blushed. “When I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t care if it was a boy or a girl. All I ever wanted was a healthy baby. But when the doctor told us the baby was a boy, I got so excited.” In a lower voice she added, “We’re going to name the baby after my daddy.”
“That’s nice.”
Mary spared no more than a passing glance for Katie’s rounded belly. A baby was no longer a part of her plan. It didn’t fit in, not anywhere. And still, there was a small twinge of unexpected…disappointment.
They finished cleaning the kitchen in record time, once their conversation was over and they turned their attentions to the simple tasks. Katie went to bed early, these days, and Mary needed to finish packing.
Come tomorrow, she was going to begin her career in the rodeo.
It was a great night for a meteor shower, the sky clear and the city lights so far away they didn’t dare intrude upon the spectacle. All was quiet. Even Mutt was asleep. Clint was the only one interested in staying up past midnight to see the best of the display.
He couldn’t sleep anyway. Tomorrow morning he and Mary were supposed to head for Birmingham to prepare for the first show of the summer tour. And he hadn’t told her yet that she wasn’t going to be the barrel man, that he couldn’t throw her into the arena and wait for her to get hurt. She was going to be furious when she found out.
Since sleep was impossible, he might as well lie here and enjoy the view.
The pickup-truck bed was hard, but he’d thrown a folded blanket under his head and was comfortable enough. A meteor streaked across the sky, leaving a spectacular trail before fading into nothing. He’d always checked on when the meteor showers would be visible, even when he’d been a kid. Dean and Boone had not been interested, but many nights he and Shea had sneaked out of the house and found a nearby spot where the lights didn’t interfere with the view too much. They’d lived in a residential neighborhood, though, so there had always been streetlights and porch lamps to cast light into the night, muting the view.
Nothing muted the view here. The stars were sharp, the sky black, the shooting stars spectacular.
He couldn’t keep his mind on the display in the sky. How would he tell Mary that she wasn’t going to be a rodeo clown? He should have known from the first day that it wouldn’t work. She was in great shape, she’d learned a lot in two weeks and he knew a few bullfighters who were no better than she was. She might even get a job on her own, if she played her cards just right.
But she wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t spend the next six weeks worried about whether or not she was going to get herself or someone else hurt. Out of the arena, when she was hunting her serial killer—he might not like it, but that was her business. This was his.
She was going to be livid.
A fair head came into view, a voice whispered, “Hi.”
“You decided to join me after all,” he said, sitting up as Mary approached the truck.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she said, tilting her head back to look up. “I figured I might as well check it out. I’ve never seen a meteor shower before.” She waited half a minute. “Where is it?”
“Be patient.”
A moment later, a shooting star streaked across the sky.
“Wow,” Mary whispered.
“Climb in,” Clint said, scooting to one side and pushing the blanket he’d been using as a pillow over for Mary.
“I’m fine,” she said, almost suspiciously.
Clint lay back with his hands beneath his head. “Whatever you want. You will get a crick in your neck if you stand like that too long, though.”
For a few minutes, she stubbornly stood by the side of the truck, oohing when another meteorite left a trail across the night sky, shuffling her feet when she began to get uncomfortable. “Okay,” she finally said, climbing up and over the tailgate. She’d taken the time to dress in worn blue jeans and a dark blue T-shirt. “As long as you behave yourself,” she teased.
“I always behave myself,” he said as she reclined beside him.
“Almost always,” she responded in a soft voice.
For a little while they lay there, side by side, commenting only when the meteor shower gave them something to ooh and aah about. The night was warm, but a nice breeze kept it from being hot, the way summer nights in Alabama could be.
Now would be the best time to tell her, Clint imagined. Nice meteor. Great night. Oh, by the way, you don’t have a job with the Brisco Rodeo because I made damn sure the barrel man will be there ready to work.
“I never did thank you,” Mary said, her voice velvety soft to match the mood of the night.
“For what?”
“You didn’t have to do any of this.” She rolled over and propped herself up on one elbow. “I know it’s been a royal pain, to teach someone who doesn’t know anything about the rodeo to be a bullfighter. You could have sent me packing any time in the past two weeks. You could have refused to help that night at Shea’s house.”
“I probably should have,” he admitted, dreading telling her the truth.
“Yeah, but you didn’t,” she whispered.
Mary fell back and stared up at the night sky, waiting for another shooting star. Her breasts rose and fell steadily, her pale cheek and bright hair caught what light there was on this dark night. She was so beautiful. He wanted to kiss her, one more time, before she kicked his ass.
Clint rolled toward her. “Don’t thank me.”
Mary looked up at him. Two weeks ago, there had been no way she’d lie beside him this way. Suspicious, always on guard, she would have felt the need to rise up herself, to make sure they were nose to nose. Two weeks ago, she would have been wearing at least one weapon.
Tonight she wasn’t armed. Somehow, in the past two weeks she had started to trust him. And he was going to blow it, big time.
But first he was going to kiss her. He lowered his head, moving slowly and giving her plenty of time to move away. She didn’t. He hadn’t thought she would. She was drawn to him the same way he was drawn to her. Strongly, reluctantly. And yeah, it was nice.
While he kissed Mary, her arms circled his neck. She kissed him back.
This time she didn’t taste like muscadine wine or greasepaint. She tasted like a woman; she tasted like Mary. Lord, he loved the way she tested his lips with her tongue, the way the tips of her fingers brushed through his hair. Every touch was soft and easy, so gentle and yet tinged with hunger.
He was tumbling, falling like one of the meteors in the sky. And he had just about as much control.
He waited for Mary to remember that there were satellites in the sky, invisible eyes looking down, but she seemed to have forgotten about her space-age technology. She just kissed him, deeper, longer and more demanding.
More than anything, he wanted to make love to Mary here and now. Before he ruined everything with the truth.
Mary tried to convince herself that Clint really wasn’t such a great kisser. It had just been so long since she’d let a man hold and kiss her this way she’d forgotten how wonderful it could be. Warm. Tingly. Outrageously sensual. Who was she kidding? He really was a great kisser. She relaxed and let herself enjoy.
He’d kissed her before, but this was more than a kiss. It touched her in a way she had not expected to be touched, ever again.
His hand slipped under her T-shirt, firm, gentle fingers raking across skin that had been unexplored for so long. He was tentative at first, as if he thought she might push him away. She didn’t. She deepened the kiss a little, and his hand delved beneath the shirt to cup her bra-covered breasts, one and then the other. Clint Sinclair had well-shaped, large, warm hands that were tender and not at all clumsy. Was there anything clumsy about this man? Of course not.
Had she come out here hoping for this? Hoping that he would kiss her? Touch her? She didn’t want to think about what was happening, what might yet happen. She simply wanted to feel again.
Clint rolled her onto her side, never breaking the kiss, and his free hand reached around and under her shirt. With a single flick of his fingers, he unfastened her bra.
Deft fingers moved the undergarment aside, and then Clint’s hand was on her bare breast, cupping, caressing, his thumb flicking over the sensitive nipple that was already hard.
He was moving too fast, but she didn’t mind. It was right. Good. She thought about what Katie had said about Clint never being satisfied. That wasn’t true. He just wanted more from life than most men. He wanted everything faster, higher, hotter and closer.
So did she.
Mary’s insides clenched and unclenched. She wanted Clint. She really shouldn’t, it wasn’t a good idea…but her body wanted his in a way she had not imagined possible. Oh, if she thought about this too long and hard she would run. She didn’t want to run.
Mary untucked Clint’s shirt and laid her hand against his flat, bare stomach. She felt him quiver at her touch.
The kiss was interrupted for a moment. Clint pulled her shirt over her head and slipped off the bra. Night air touched her naked skin, her back and her breasts. It was a new sensation, luscious and forbidden. She unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his neck while she worked her way down, parting her lips to suck gently at his flesh, to taste his sweat on this too-warm night.
She removed Clint’s shirt and dropped it to the side, and when that was done he kissed her neck. His lips were warm and gentle, his tongue teasing. It was a kiss Mary felt to her bones, and beyond. While he continued to lavish attention on her neck, his hands caressed her breasts. His palm learned the shape of her, his fingers teased the nipples. Heaven help her, she could come apart here and now.
This was definitely faster, higher, hotter and closer. And still, not close enough. Mary squirmed as she struggled gently to find a position that brought Clint even closer. Their tongues danced, delighting in the sensations their bodies experienced and wanting more. Touching him was an experience in itself. Everything about Clint was hard and muscled, taut and smooth.
There was nothing but the night and sensation and a burning need. Burning. She was definitely burning. Clint unsnapped her jeans as neatly as he had unfastened her bra—with one flick of his fingers. He lowered the zipper, and in anticipation Mary felt a deep shudder ripple through her body.
In an instant, something in Clint changed. He slowed his once-frantic movements, his mouth came to hers for another long kiss. She could feel him pulling away from her, in a way she could not understand. It was as if they’d been on a speeding train, and for no reason that train was slowing down in the middle of nowhere.
“Mary,” he whispered against her mouth. “I want you so much.”
All she could manage was a hum of approval before she kissed him again.
“But before we go any further, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Those words weren’t exactly a dash of cold water, but they were definitely not what she’d expected to hear. “Something that can’t wait?” she asked.
“I wish it could wait.” He brushed a strand of her hair back with one finger. “For a while there I convinced myself it could wait…but it can’t.”
“What is it?” she kissed him quickly, again.
He took a deep breath, kissed her one more time. “When I go to Birmingham tomorrow, you’re not going with me.”
That was a dash of cold water. “What?”
He placed his arms around her so they were bare chest to bare chest. “You’re not ready. You’re good, but you’re not good enough.”
“I am!” she insisted, pulling her body slightly away from his.
“You’re not,” he whispered. His head shook slightly. “I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.”
Mary’s chin came up. She still trembled, she still ached. But she was also angry. Two weeks, wasted! “I can do my job.”
“As an FBI agent? I’m sure you can. As a bullfighter?” He shook his head. “No.”
“You could have told me this days ago and saved me some time.” She shoved him away and grabbed her T-shirt, yanking it over her head.
“I just decided the other day,” he said.
“You never intended to take me to the rodeo.” She rose to her feet. “You’ve been leading me along, making me think you intended to hold up your end of the bargain, and all along this was just some…some game to you.”
“That’s not true.” Clint stood, too, bare chested and too tall. “Last week I called the barrel man and offered to pay him to fake an injury.”
“I never asked you to do that,” she said. He’d said he’d get her in. She hadn’t expected him to pay off someone to assure her a place.
“A couple of days ago I called him and told him to be ready to go on as usual.”
“Why?”
“You’re not ready,” he said again.
She turned, wanting nothing more than to escape. Had she really been about to make love to him? Here? Outside, under the stars, in a blaze of mindless passion that was so unlike her. She glanced up as two meteorites streaked across the sky. Clint grabbed her shoulder.
“Tell me what to look for,” he said in a lowered voice. “I’ll find your serial killer for you, if he’s really with the rodeo.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You say I can’t do your job? Well, you sure as hell can’t do mine.”
He pulled her against him, and the pickup-truck bed rocked. “I still want you,” he said. That was all too evident, with their bodies pressed together from chest to knee. “But I couldn’t make love to you without telling you this first.”
Most men would have, she knew that. Most men would have taken what they could get and then told her the bad news.
It didn’t make this moment any brighter. “You can’t yank the rug out from under me and expect…you can’t ruin everything and then…”
He let her go. “I was afraid of that.”
Mary climbed over the tailgate and onto the bumper. “Thanks,” she said as she jumped to the ground.
“Thanks?”
“Your need to be Captain Good Guy, superhero from the sticks, saved me from making a very big mistake.” She tried for a tone of voice that was sharp and emotionless.
“Did it really?” he asked flatly.
“Yeah.” She turned her back on him. “See you in the morning, Sinclair. Try to leave without me and I’ll arrest you.”
“On what charge?” he asked from the back of the truck.
“Obstruction of justice, for a start.”
He didn’t follow her, thank goodness, so there was no one to see her begin to tremble as she walked into the kitchen, no one to see the tears fall down her face.
Captain Good Guy, superhero from the sticks. Clint was still ticked off about that as he threw his bags into the bed of the pickup the morning after Mary had walked out on him and the meteor shower. The way she’d said it was what rankled, still…like she would have preferred it if he’d slept with her and then told her he wasn’t going to get her a job with Brisco.
Maybe she would have. Maybe she was one of those women who liked guys who treated them like crap. Funny, but he never would have thought that of her. She liked herself too much for that nonsense.
Then again, maybe not.
Before he could climb into the driver’s seat, Mary burst through the front door, a bag in each hand. Clint took a step forward to help her with the bags but stopped before he’d taken a full step and fell back to lean against the door of the pickup.
Special Agent Mary Paris looked the part, he’d give her that. No more chic gray suit and high heels. She wore blue jeans, a buttoned-up blue shirt and a pair of black cowboy boots she’d bought in Scottsboro last week.
She threw her bags into the back of the truck, having no trouble hefting them over the side. Wes and Katie stepped onto the porch to wave goodbye, and Clint stepped back to stand beside Mary.
“You forgot something,” he said in a low voice.
“I didn’t forget—”
He reached into the bed of the truck and snagged her bra, hooking it on one finger and whipping it up and around to present it to her on the end of that one long finger.
She blushed as she snatched it from him. “Thank you, so much,” she said, frost in her voice.
“You’re welcome, ma’am,” he said, bowing to her ever so slightly. “Captain Good Guy to the rescue.”
She had the good grace to look contrite. “Sorry about that,” she whispered.
“What?”
“I said I’m sorry,” she said, a little bit louder. “What do you expect? That I’ll just give up on what I’ve planned for months? That I’m willing to write off two weeks of hard work and months of research because you think I’m not ready?”
“Is everything okay?” Wes walked to the end of the porch, limping more than usual this morning.
“Fine,” Clint said with an insincere smile. He turned his eyes to Mary, who had hidden the bra behind her back. “Get in the truck.”
She ran to the passenger side and jumped in. As he started the engine, Clint turned to look at her again. “I’ll tell you what I expect. I expect you to consider the lives of the cowboys and other bullfighters in the arena. Should they have to risk their lives for your assignment? Should they?”
“I can handle my—”
He held up a finger to silence her, and amazingly she obeyed it.
“As long as nothing goes wrong, you could handle yourself just fine. But Special Agent Paris…something always goes wrong.”
“Of course I don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” she said contritely. “That’s why I was willing to spend two weeks here getting properly trained.”
“Could I become an FBI agent on two weeks’ training?”
“Of course not.”
“What makes you think this is any easier?”
She pursed her lips. Dammit, would he ever again look at her and not remember how close he’d been? Would he ever be able to look at her and not want to take her, then and there?
Neither of them had planned it, neither of them wanted it, but something had happened. Maybe it had started with that first dance at Dexler’s, or with that first muscadine kiss. Maybe it had started the first moment he’d laid eyes on her at Shea’s house. He felt something unexpected growing inside him…but he knew nothing could come of it. He and Mary were too different. And in another way, they were too much alike.
“Most of all,” he confessed, “I guess I expect you to understand why I have a hard time watching you make yourself bait for a cold-blooded killer.”
“I told you that would only be as a last resort, and with proper backup from—”
“Save it for someone who buys that line of bull.”
Mary pursed her lips but didn’t try to argue with him.
“A butcher, I believe you called him,” Clint continued in a lowered voice. “A man who targets women very much like you. Boone and Dean have filled me in on some of the details you didn’t share about the crimes you’re trying to tie together.”
“I can handle myself,” she said.
“I don’t have to like it.”
“Clint, I have to get into that rodeo.” A touch of desperation colored her voice. “I can’t stop now, I can’t give up.”
“Do you ever?” he snapped.
“No.”
He stared at Mary, remembering last night, remembering all the reasons this wouldn’t work. He should kick her out of his truck, toss her bags on the ground and go to Birmingham without her.
And then her eyes went wide and she whispered, “Please,” and he was a goner.