Blind Tiger by Sandra Brown

Thatcher just stood there looking at her, silently pressing for a more satisfactory answer.

The one that sprang to her mind was evasive, but actually the God’s truth. “He doesn’t have to buy it. A friend gives it to him in exchange for handiwork.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Well, Irv and his friend need to be careful. Obviously local law is cracking down on offenders.”

“I’ll pass along the warning, but I’m afraid Irv won’t change his ways.”

“I’m afraid of that, too.”

It was a solemn and weighty statement, not a quip. The intensity of his stare held her captive without force, without even a touch. Perhaps Irv’s sixth sense about him had been correct. Perhaps Thatcher Hutton was something other than the loose-limbed cowboy he played, someone who represented a threat, not only to her, but to the people whose welfare depended on her.

But no sooner had that upsetting possibility entered her mind than he relaxed his shoulders and eased away from her. “How’s Corrine? Did she go for your idea?”

“Wholeheartedly. Just as I thought.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask to speak to Corrine or ask for details about living arrangements, etcetera. Lying to him had become increasingly hard on her conscience, and standing this close to him in the dark made it hard to breathe.

That inability became even more constricting when he took yet another step closer to her. “Those twins.”

Bravely, she tilted her head up in order to look into his face. “What about them?”

“You seem friendly with them.”

“I am. Why shouldn’t I be?”

He frowned at her flippancy. “You know what I’m asking you.”

She did know. “They’re charming boys.”

“They’re men.”

“And I’m a widow.”

“A young and pretty widow.”

“A very recent widow, who has morals and a reputation to uphold.” Her cheeks went hot. She dipped her head. “Which makes my lapse last night all the more incomprehensible.”

He didn’t say anything for the longest time, then, “The O’Connors are troublemakers.”

Her head came up. “Says who?”

“Sheriff Amos. He pointed them out to me last night as we were on our way to Lefty’s. He called them a wild pair.”

She didn’t want to read too much into the sheriff’s notice of her deliverymen, but it gave her a twinge of concern. “Davy and Mike can get into mischief, I’m sure. But they’re hardworking and, at heart, decent. If I didn’t believe in their integrity, I wouldn’t have them working for me.”

“It’s not all work, though, is it?” He looked aside, staring into the empty darkness. “You were laughing.”

“What?”

“You were laughing,” he said, turning back to her. “I heard you all the way out here. They make you laugh.”

“Sometimes.” The hushed tone in which she’d spoken the word made it sound like what one would admit only in a confessional.

He bobbed his chin once and looked aside again, his jaw working. He took off his hat and tapped it against his thigh as the fingers of his other hand raked through his hair. He said a swear word under his breath.

She didn’t dare try to guess what these manifestations of male agitation implied. Actually, she was afraid she knew. “It’s late. I’d better go in, so I can—”

“Run away from me.”

“I’m not running away.”

“Those twins make you laugh. I make you nervous. You’ve been wound up since you saw me here.”

“Yes! Lurking in the dark!”

“Are you jittery because of what I said to you this morning?”

Unbuttoned. Unhooked. Us lying down together. “I don’t remember what you said this morning.” Her voice lacked conviction and substance, and instead sounded raspy with desperation.

“You remember.”

“No I don’t.”

He didn’t grab her. She didn’t even see him move. She had no warning at all before he was just there, his hands encircling her waist, his fingers tensing and drawing her against him. Flush against him. Fitting them together. He felt solid and strong, an ensuring and durable presence, safe except for the quickening in her center that he incited and the unchecked recognition with which her body responded.

His breath was damp and warm against her neck as he sighed her name, the one she had forbidden him to use but which sounded so sweet now as he nuzzled her ear and whispered, “Stay away from Lefty’s.”

She couldn’t believe she’d heard right. She jerked her head back. “What?”

“Keep away from there, Laurel. It isn’t safe.”

She tried to escape his hands, but he held her fast. “Let go of me.”

“Not until you listen. Don’t go out there again.”

“You’re overstepping, Mr. Hutton.” She pried his hands from her waist, but before she could move away, he cupped them around her face, bringing it up and close to his own.

“You’re right, I am, and I’ll tell you why. Chester Landry claimed that last night was his first time to go to Lefty’s, but I don’t believe that for a second.”

She turned her head aside and was about to shout at him how little she cared, but he talked over her.