CHAPTER 5

THE GAS LEAK had been caused by a blown pilot in the stove. Easily fixed, thought Riley.

The panic among Café Nirvana’s customers was also easily fixed when Holly offered them drinks on the house.

All Holly’s problems—fixed.

But the image of her after a long day of work—hair adorably messy, lipstick eaten off, sleeves shoved up and a spot of sauce on her hip—wouldn’t leave Riley’s mind.

Not so easily fixed.

What was wrong with him? She was everything he’d never wanted; she was big-city sophistication, she was snooty, manipulating. Stubborn as hell.

And yet he dreamed about her all night; long, haunting, erotic dreams. She wore peach lace, barely there panties, dammit. No wonder he woke up hot, bothered and horny as hell.

At least it was Sunday, his day off.

The physical demands of his ranch chores usually helped him wind down from a long week. They cleared his mind, and being outdoors, whether he was shoveling horse manure or riding hard and fast over the land, cleared his heart and soul, as well.

By midmorning he’d made some overdue repairs to his barn and had mended some fences on the far north side of his property. He was still hot and bothered, but at least it was from hard work this time, and not the mental images of Holly Stone, wearing nothing but those lace panties and a hungry expression.

And her expression had been hungry. Not a physical hunger, but something deeper, something that came uncomfortably close to mirroring his own yearning.

Deciding he needed food to fuel his brain instead of silly, romantic images, he headed toward the house and prayed Maria was still there. He stripped off his dirt-streaked shirt and kicked off his shoes, hoping to get on her good side by not tracking dust into the house. Maybe he could look extra pathetic and squeeze a meal out of her.

He was in luck.

He could hear her in his kitchen, muttering and swearing in Spanish. He could also hear…Holly? Wearer of peach panties?

“I just asked you how you made the gravy so creamy, you don’t have to act like it’s a federal offense not to know,” he heard Holly say in that cool, cultured voice.

Maria’s voice wasn’t so cool. “Why are you here anyway? The sheriff won’t be happy to see you.”

“How do you know?” Holly asked. “Actually, it could go either way.”

Maria sniffed. “And as for not knowing how to make gravy, it is a crime. How could you not have learned to cook? What is wrong with your mother?”

“She’s…not exactly the cooking type.”

“No? How are you going to catch a man?”

Riley decided now was the time to enter the kitchen, before World War III could break out. He was immediately overcome by the delicious smell of the meal Maria had cooked, by the sight of the two women staring each other down over the steaming stove, and by the fact that he was straining to hear Holly’s answer as to how she was going to catch a man.

Neither woman gave him a second glance. Maria, because she never gave him a second glance—unless he was making a mess or not rinsing his plate.

Holly because…who knew.

But she was studiously avoiding his gaze. Interesting, considering she’d shown up at his house.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Not that I mind finding two women in my kitchen, especially when there’s food involved.”

“See?” Triumphant, Maria sent Holly a smirk and handed Riley a plate of food. “Ms. Stone was just going to tell me how to catch a man without basic cooking skills.”

Holly looked cool as a cucumber, until she happened to glance at him. Then she gave him a double take that had him looking down at himself, checking for toilet paper on his shoe.

He was still shirtless.

For a moment Holly’s eyes glazed over. Her mouth opened, then carefully closed. And she purposely turned away from him. “Why would I want to catch a man?” she asked Maria, her voice oddly husky.

“Well, you are not going to catch him with your sweet tongue, that is certain,” Maria said, not very kindly.

“I’m not going to catch a man at all, thank you very much.”

Well, wasn’t that interesting? He’d pegged her for a definite need-a-man-in-her-life type.

She looked at him again, quickly, but there was no mistaking the flash of uncertainty in those baby blues.

A distinctively uneasy feeling went through him. That had definitely been vulnerability he’d seen in her expression. But Holly Stone was never vulnerable.

Was she?

And if he’d been wrong about that, what else had he been wrong about?

“You are not interested in marriage?” Maria was scandalized and she stared at Riley in shock when she handed him his plate. “She’s not interested in marriage.”

“Let’s just say marriage isn’t interested in me,” Holly said, staring down at the bubbling pot on the stove. “Now, can you teach me to make this gravy as good as you, or what?”

The look on Maria’s face was priceless. She didn’t know whether to hold on to her resentment of the younger woman or be flattered. Watching her torn emotions, enjoying her speechlessness, Riley let out his first grin of the day.

“What’s so funny?” Maria demanded.

If she knew, she’d take away his food. “Nothing.”

“It is something.”

He bit his lip, but the laugh escaped anyway. “I was just wondering if I could learn that trick sometime, the trick of making you silent.”

Maria glared at him and reached for the plate she’d just handed him. “You give me that, you should go hungry.”

“You said I shouldn’t,” he said, holding tight to his food. “Remember? You were worried about me, I need my food, you said, I need the nutrition.”

“You. You are a snake.”

“A hungry snake.”

Maria let him keep his food. She looked at Holly. “Okay, maybe if you like my cooking so much, I can teach you,” she said gruffly. “My gravy is the best in the world. You can pour it over biscuits. Handmade biscuits, not some store bought ones that land like concrete in your stomach.”

Holly smiled. Not that fake one, but a real, down-to-earth smile that transformed her into…a human being.

A beautiful one.

One Riley couldn’t take his eyes from, even though he wasn’t the recipient of that smile. No doubt, she was still screaming “city” with every step she took, but somehow, over the past few days, it had stopped amusing him and started to actually get to him.

Any man would feel that way, he assured himself. She wore a short denim skirt that showed off the longest, greatest set of legs he’d ever seen, and a sun-yellow tank blouse that hugged the nicest, curviest set of—

“Are you going to stare at her all day or are you going to eat?” Maria wanted to know. “Because that dish, it’s got to—”

“Soak.” Riley cleared his throat and concentrated on his food. “I know.”

Holly was looking at him, shock on her face, as if it hadn’t occurred to her that he could like the mere sight of her. It was the second time he realized she wasn’t quite as confident as she wanted the world to believe. Her eyes were big, and strangely unguarded. Her hands clenched together and that lower lip, the carefully glossed lower lip he’d dreamed about, was being dragged against her teeth.

It reminded him of the day before, when she’d looked so uncharacteristically flustered, so absolutely…adorable. That, he realized, that had been when he’d stopped being amused by her looks, and instead, had become intrigued by Holly-the-person. He suspected she hid a lot inside, certainly most of her emotions. His sudden yearning to know what they were, and why she kept them so protected startled him.

So did the simultaneous urge to surge up, grab her, toss her on his table and follow her down. He wanted to kiss that bottom lip, wanted to nibble off every bit of the remaining gloss, then work his way over her jaw to her neck. And when he was done there, he’d work his way down, down, down—

“Your mind is in the gutter,” Maria said, shaking her wooden spoon beneath his nose. “Eat.”

He was still looking at Holly when he brought another bite up to his lips.

Holly was looking at him, too, she could do little else. For the first time in…well, forever, her thoughts were not her own to control. She couldn’t stop looking at him. Dammit, he needed to comb his tousled hair. He needed to shave. He really needed to put on a shirt—it should be illegal to look that good without one. And she couldn’t stop wondering exactly what he was thinking…

She needed a lobotomy.

That explained it. Honestly. Because there was no reason to wonder what he was thinking. No reason at all. He meant nothing to her. More important, she meant nothing to him. In light of that, she gave Maria a shaky grin. “I’ll write down the recipe as you give it to me. Soon as I give back—” she dug into her purse “—the sheriff’s wallet.”

“The sheriff’s wallet?”

“My wallet?” Riley asked at the same time as Maria, rising. “How did you get that?”

Maria grabbed Riley’s plate and put it in the sink. “Do you need a witness when you arrest her for theft, Sheriff?”

“Uh, no. I can handle it, thanks, Maria. Great food.”

“As always.”

“As always,” he repeated dutifully.

She actually gave him a small smile before turning to Holly. “If you’re not in jail, I will come to the café later.”

If she was in jail, it’d be for ogling charges. Ogling-the-sheriff charges.

“I will show you some things in that kitchen,” Maria added, grabbing her purse and keys. “Things other than low-fat crapola. Though I hear the spaghetti sauce smelled good. Too bad no one got a chance to taste it before you almost blew them all up.”

Holly let that go for the more important fact. “You’ll come help me?” She could have hugged the ornery, older woman, if she’d been the hugging type. “Thank you!”

Maria nodded her head once, regally, and left her alone with Riley.

Alone. Please don’t make an idiot of yourself in front of him this time, she told herself.

It would be harder than she thought. According to what Maria had told her, Riley had been up since before dawn working outside. He didn’t look it, didn’t look anything but…fabulous.

And utterly, absolutely at home in his own skin, which by the way, was fabulous, too. “About your wallet,” she said, forcing her gaze up to meet his. “It must have happened during the gas leak.”

“What must have happened?”

“Well, later, in my apartment, I found the dog chewing on something and—”

“Wait.” Riley shook his head but took the wallet, which he set on the counter without even looking at it. “Dog? The same one from yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Let me get this straight. You claim you don’t like animals. You also claim you don’t even particularly like people, and you certainly don’t like being out of the big city. And yet here you are, in Little Paradise, running a café where you have to interact with people all day, and you’ve adopted both a dog and a cat.”

“They adopted me.”

“Really?” he murmured, smiling that warm, just-for-her smile. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s true.”

“You could lock them out.”

“Yes, but—Yes,” she whispered. She couldn’t tell him she didn’t have the heart. It would ruin her tough reputation. She needed that reputation, she used it like a cloak. “About your wallet—”

“You’re here to help your parents, right? And yet they appear to—no offense—not be too concerned about you and your needs. You don’t have any friends here, and you’re out of your element. Some pretty big odds, Holly.”

“Look, I don’t want to discuss this. I just wanted to give you back your wallet.” She tried to turn away, but he gently and very firmly set his hands on her shoulders.

“Know what I think?” he wondered.

“Ask me if I care.”

He smiled gently. “I think all your confidence and wisecracking is a front. I think in spite of your bravado, in spite of your best manipulations, everything is starting to slip through your fingers. I think you’re learning something about yourself here in the center of exactly nowhere, something that has nothing to do with trying to please your parents.”

“I didn’t know you were a shrink.”

He smiled. “See? That’s exactly the fake bravado I’d expect from you. But this isn’t the big city, Holly. This is a small town, where people have known each other forever, and they care. They’d care about you, too, if you let them.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed to hide her wistfulness. “I wasn’t born and raised here. People will never trust me.”

“You’re wrong.”

She wanted to be; with all her heart she suddenly wanted to be.

“Just let them in,” he said, his voice suggesting that he cared, too. “That’s all it would take.”

She thought he was going to add, Let me in, and in that moment, she might have, but she found her inner strength. She leaned on no one but herself, ever. She gestured to his wallet. “Aren’t you even going to open it?”

He was disappointed in her change of conversation, and let it show. “No.”

“What if I stole your cash?”

“Did you?”

“Well, no.” She amused him with that, and she schooled her features into an even mask of indifference. She was good at it by now, but Riley surprised her by being good at seeing right through her.

He came closer.

She was leaning against the counter and didn’t have anywhere to back up to, so as he moved toward her all she could do was lift her chin and stare him down.

It didn’t work.

She was used to being as tall or taller than most men, but not this man, so the height intimidation didn’t work on him, either.

Still smiling a little, totally at ease, enjoying himself, he tipped his head to the side, so that in spite of her attempting not to look right at him, she was.

“You still have the dog,” he said gently.

Not a question, but a statement, one that implied he thought all sorts of things. First, that she even wanted the damn dog, and second, that maybe she was too soft to get rid of it.

“You really should check your wallet,” she said between her teeth. “Because someone might have stolen something from it—a credit card, your license, anything.”

“You’re in Little Paradise, remember?”

Oh yes, how could she forget one of their most basic differences? He trusted everyone—except for her—and she trusted no one. “You still should check.”

“Okay, just for you…” He relented with a smile that was far too innocent for her taste. He reached for it, bringing his torso inches within hers, and oh my, no expensive cologne for this cowboy. He didn’t need it. He smelled like the outdoors, like hay, like sweet sunshine and warm, sexy male. If she moved, even a fraction of an inch, she could put her mouth on his bare shoulder. Her knees weakened at the thought.

He opened the wallet, still too close, still giving her that far too guileless smile. “See?” he said, showing her his license. His credit card. His twenty-dollar bill. “Everything of value—” he pulled out not one, but two condoms, and pressed them into her palm “—is still here.”

Though she’d never, ever, in a million years admit it, her pulse took off like a shot. Heat flooded her body, pooling in all those erogenous zones she’d ignored for far too long, and all because his long, work-roughened fingers had held up two little packets that would allow him to have protected sex.

That she could imagine him doing just that, with her, was no longer such a shock.

“Mmm, that looks good on you,” he murmured.

“What?”

“That unguarded expression. You’re not so polished now, Holly Stone, and it’s a beautiful look for you.”

This was not happening. He was not seducing her with mere words.

But he was, and he dipped his head so that his jaw nearly brushed hers. His eyes were heavy-lidded, sensual, and she had to fist her hands on the counter behind her to keep them from misbehaving.

It was a hard habit to break, not turning on the charm full force to get whatever she wanted, including a man. But she wasn’t that woman anymore, hadn’t been since the moment she’d pulled into Little Paradise. And no matter how much she wanted him in that moment, she wasn’t going to do it. She wasn’t going to go after any man, not ever again.

She was going to make a success of herself, she was going to make a success of the café. She was going to learn to run it the way it needed to be run, and in the process, if she was beginning to realize she liked cooking, that she liked the peace and quiet here, that she liked seeing people every day, liked pleasing them with her creations—

She went utterly still and backed up that last thought.

Oh, my God.

She was…enjoying herself.

Well, that was allowed, right? She was trying to please her parents, but she could please herself at the same time. And when she was done, she was going to get on with her life.

Any second now.

“I have to go,” she whispered, not moving.

“Have to? Or want to?”

Was there a difference? Yes, oh yes, there was. “There’s a prospective buyer coming this afternoon. I have to show the café.”

He straightened and sent her a smile. “So you can go back home.”

Home? She had no idea where that was. “Yes.”

“Where is that, Holly? You’ve never said.”

To her absolute shock, her throat tightened. Her eyes burned. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out,” she said, and bolted.

She was still holding the condoms.