Cowboy Truth: Cowboy Justice Association #3 (10 page)

Plunder. Explore. Conquer.

His hand snaked around the back of her head, plunging into her silky curls. His other arm wrapped around her, pulling her close until he could feel the heat of her body through his clothes. He lowered his head and paused, looking into those hazel eyes, waiting for her to push him away in disgust.

Ava’s pupils were dilated and he could feel the thud of her heart close to his. Her lips parted and he didn’t hesitate. Capturing her lips, he anchored his palm at her nape. She didn’t even try to pull away. Instead, his good girl did naughty things with her tongue inside his mouth. Their lips fused together with a searing heat.

She didn’t merely accept his kiss. She met him head on, giving as good as she got, an active participant. Her hands were around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair. He slanted his mouth at another angle and deepened the kiss causing her breath to catch and her body to tremble. He could hear the beat of his own heart and the roar of blood rushing in his ears. His entire body was on alert and all from a kiss from Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes.

Holy fuck.

Sanity finally took hold and he dragged his mouth from hers, their breathing ragged. He avoided her gaze as he stood and stepped away, immediately missing her warmth.

This had to fucking stop.

Ava Hayworth didn’t follow his relationship rules. She was the forever kind of woman, and he didn’t have forever to give any female. He took several deep breaths and tried to slow his racing pulse. She was chewing on her lips, swollen from their passion, and watching him as if she was wondering what he might do next.

Next?
He was fucking taking her home.

This was crazy. He’d started out taking her for a ride and now they’d swapped spit in a moment of madness. This was how men woke up married with two kids and a minivan. Panic rose up, shutting off his breath and sending him back a few more steps, almost tripping on a tree root.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her head tilted slightly. “You look a little green.”

Logan felt it. His stomach was churning and his heart was pounding even faster now than when they had kissed. Ava was trouble with a capital T. Females like her looked all soft and innocent and then…

Bam!

They had a man roped, tied, and trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

No thanks. Not him.

“You shouldn’t have kissed me.” He dragged his shirtsleeve over his mouth to remove her intoxicating taste.

Her eyebrows shot up and her lips firmed. “I shouldn’t have kissed you? Don’t you mean the other way around? You kissed me, Logan.”

“You kissed me back. Well, I shouldn’t have done it either. We both know it was a mistake. We’re not for each other.”

Her mouth twisted. “On that I agree.” Her arms crossed over her chest, rising and falling quickly. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? Man-whore Logan Wright just couldn’t stop himself from making a pass. Do you even realize when you’re doing it? Jesus, Logan. Way to ruin an evening.”

No woman had ever accused him of ruining her night before and he didn’t like it much. He’d been trying to be nice but somewhere things had gone wrong.

Ava hopped off his bike and walked to the edge of the lake, looking anywhere but at him. He’d acted like an idiot and she was right to be angry. He’d started it, blamed her, and now the fragile friendship they’d begun to build was ripped to shreds.

It was all for the best.

They couldn’t be friends. Not really. They might have crime puzzles and motorcycles in common but that was it.

And sausage pizza. And music while they worked.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I guess I got carried away by the moonlight. The full moon makes people do crazy shit.”

Her back was to him but he could see her head nod in agreement. “That’s true. I researched it once for a book about a serial killer who only killed on the harvest moon each year.”

Irritation tapped at his brain. “Are you comparing our wimpy kiss to a fucking serial killer?”

Except it wasn’t wimpy. It had almost brought him to his knees.

She twirled on her boot heels and looked him squarely in the eye. “Hardly. I was making small talk. Honestly, I’m not sure what to say at this point. We shouldn’t have done that. Everything’s changed.”

“And I ruined it?” he challenged. “It’s all my fault. I’ll take the blame.”

“I’m not blaming you,” she argued. “I’m only stating a fact. Now we’re going to be thinking about the kiss and not the case.”

Logan picked up her helmet and handed it to her. “Honey, I lost count of the kisses I’ve participated in by the time I was fourteen. I doubt I’ll lose any sleep over this one. I suggest we forget it ever happened.”

Her little chin was lifted defiantly and he would have bet his Harley she would have loved to smack the smirk off his face. She wouldn’t be the first or the last. Ava didn’t do it however. She simply brushed past him, pulled on her helmet, and mounted the bike.

He did the same, taking his place in front of her. This time, her arms weren’t wound around him. Instead her touch was tentative and she’d scooted as far back on the seat as possible. He grabbed an arm in each of his hands and pulled her forward.

“Hold on like you mean it,” he growled. “I don’t want you falling off the back.”

He kicked the bike into gear and gravel shot out from the back tire as he took off. The entire evening had gone to hell in a hand basket and he only had himself to blame.

Bad boys didn’t play games with good girls. He’d be crazy to get involved with a woman who probably thought happiness was a house with a white picket fence and a couple of kids. He’d be a lousy husband and a worse father.

Holy hell. Fuck that.

First thing tomorrow, he’d call up one of the many willing women who didn’t ask for more than he could give. There would always be a bevy of females who only wanted some fun, and Logan knew how to have fun.

Chapter Eight

I
n his office the next morning, Logan was determined to put the night before with Ava out of his mind for good. He perched on the edge of his desk and punched in the number that had been written in his leather address book. Angie Vernon was a lively redhead he hadn’t seen in over six months. She’d always been up for a few beers and some dancing. Then some naked fun afterward, of course. He vaguely recalled she liked to lick hot fudge off his abs after dinner. She was just the thing to get good girl Ava off of his mind. She picked up after a few rings.

“Hello.”

“Hey babe. It’s Logan. I’ve missed you, girl.”

Angie laughed and Logan grinned at her delighted sound. She was happy to hear from him, dammit. “Logan Wright, as I live and breathe. I never thought to hear from you again. What brings you out of the woodwork after eight months?”

“Has it been that long? That’s too long. Come dancing with me tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something that will make me work to take it off.”

He was being outrageous but he remembered Angie liked him that way.

“Can my fiancé Joe come along?” He heard her laughter through the phone. “Logan, I’ve been engaged for two months. Hadn’t you heard?”

Angie lived a few towns over and apparently no one had seen fit to pass on the news. Disappointment and something like relief twisted in his gut. He wasn’t sure how he could be happy and sad at the same time. He put it down to a bad night’s sleep.

“Well, congratulations.” Logan tried to make it sound truly sincere when inside he was recoiling at the mere thought of marriage. “Joe’s a lucky man.”

“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t pass on your message,” Angie said dryly. “I don’t like to remind him of my wild and woolly days. I’m a boring almost married woman now. We spend our time fixing up the house we bought and playing cards with other couples on Saturday night.”

Dear God in heaven, that sounded like hell with window treatments and throw pillows.

“I wish you all the best, Angie. I hope you’ll be very happy.”

Logan hung up before she had a chance to answer, and then grabbed a pen and scratched her name from his address book.

Goodbye Angie.

He paged through and came to a name that made him smile with pleasant memories.

Hello Marie.

Twenty minutes and three more phone calls later, Logan wanted to toss the phone across the room. Marie had been married with her first child on the way. Lana had been dating someone “seriously”, whatever the fuck that meant, and Terri’s answering machine message said she was on her honeymoon.

Did everyone lose their mind at the same moment and suddenly couple up like animals before the storm? Had he missed some sort of memo? He was starting to feel like those naughty unicorns that had played in the rain while the ark sailed off into the sunset. Everyone knew those horned bastards had met their maker. Was having fun and some casual sex extinct too?

A tentative knock on the door brought him out of his brooding thoughts. Jillie, his secretary, was standing in the doorway with a peculiar look on her face. She was usually smiling and swigging fancy coffee from the place on the corner. Jillie took at least six coffee breaks a day.

“What is it?” Logan asked, trying to keep his irritation from showing.

She held up a piece of paper. “The state lab emailed me the ballistics report for Bill Bryson.”

Logan held out his hand. He’d been waiting for this. “Thanks. I’ll take it now.”

She didn’t give it to him, but simply stood there with an uncertain expression. He didn’t really have time for Jillie to have a breakdown today. Tomorrow, after a decent night’s sleep, he might be in a better mood and ready to hear her usual tale of woe about her latest boyfriend.

“Goddamit, Jillie. Tell me what they said.”

Logan stalked over to the coffeemaker in the corner of his office, poured more into his mug, and fought the anger churning in his gut. Jillie had used her contacts at the state lab to move the ballistics test to the front of the line. The results were in this morning but she was standing in the doorway to his office gaping like a fish out of water. She wasn’t normally reticent about passing along lab results. In fact, she normally tossed the email she’d printed up on his desk and waltzed down to the corner coffee shop for a latte and a muffin. Today she was pale and her grip on the paper was so tight it made her knuckles white.

“I need you to sit down, Logan,” Jillie pointed to the chair.

Logan lost what little patience he had left. This case was a bitch, and he was fucking tired. He’d barely slept last night after what had gone down with Ava. He’d said he wouldn’t lose sleep over a simple kiss but he’d turned out to be a fucking liar. He’d tossed and turned all night, at turns mentally berating himself and other times reliving those moments. As the sun had shone in his window, he’d woken grouchy and frustrated. Now women right and left were getting married and having babies. No amount of coffee was going to make this a good day.

“Just give me the report.” Logan held out his hand and kept his voice under control. It wasn’t Jillie’s fault that he was in a piss-poor mood today, although her strange behavior wasn’t helping. “Give it to me and go.”

She looked undecided but finally handed the paper to him before slinking out the door and closing it behind her. It must be something bad as his door normally stayed wide open so he could hear the comings and goings in the office. Bill Bryson must have been shot by someone whose gun was in the system. Perhaps someone who was wanted for another murder.

Logan settled his big body into the comfortable old leather chair behind his desk and propped his feet on its surface. He scanned the report and felt his heart almost stop in his chest as he read. The black type seemed to blur on the page before coming back into focus. He blindly reached for the phone and punched in some numbers hoping like hell Tanner would answer.

“Tanner Marks.”

Logan swung his legs down and sat up in the chair. “It’s me, Logan. Listen, I need to talk to you. Shit, I still can’t believe this.”

“Believe what?” Tanner asked. “What’s going on? You sound shaken.”

Logan sure as shit wasn’t feeling good. He kept reading the ballistics report over and over but it never changed.