Smoking Hot (2 page)

Flames sparked inside him, spiraling quickly downward. He shook his head. Chance was right: he needed to get laid. That had to be it. She wasn't his type. He liked tall curvy women with porcelain skin. Raine was tiny and tanned. Not as big as a minute.

Her scent drifted over to him. He inhaled. A taunting fragrance of oils and spices—jasmine, clover, and sweet honey—curled around him, tempting him to step nearer and lose himself in her essence. Some nephilim could be more susceptible to the pheromones mortals released. It rarely happened, but it wasn't unheard of.

“Step into the light,” Raine ordered. When he didn't move, she added, “I won't tell you again.”

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. Yeah, it could be her scent throwing him off guard. Or the way she stood with her knees slightly bent, both hands firmly holding the gun. He shouldn't be turned on that Raine had him at gunpoint, but he was. He hadn't expected her voice to be raspy, sultry, and tempting as hell either. Its resonance rippled over him like a warm massage.

Chance would have a field day with this one. Dillon was on the brink of salivating over a female who should have zero sex appeal for him. The fact that she had a gun pointed at him would only make Chance laugh harder. His friend had an odd sense of humor. Dillon's gut feeling was right. He should've kept his distance.

A rush of adrenaline surged through Raine. The exhaustion she'd felt when she turned off Old Red's engine was gone the instant she came inside and sensed someone else in the house. Every fiber of her being was on high alert.

“Show yourself!”

He stepped out of the darkness.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, then snapped closed. She'd expected an unbathed drifter with a scraggly beard, not a cowboy who looked like he was made to fulfill any woman's fantasies. He wore his clothes as if the black T-shirt and dark jeans had been made to fit his broad shoulders and muscled thighs. She hadn't seen anything so delicious since being talked into going to that male strip show in Fort Worth.

She quickly regained her composure. He might be easy on the eyes, but he was still trespassing. “Who are you?” she asked. When he continued to stare, she wondered if he had a few missing brain cells. “Do you understand what I'm asking,” she said, speaking slowly.

His eyebrows drew together, then relaxed as a lazy smile formed, as though he realized exactly what she was thinking and the joke was on her.

She bristled. He stood in the middle of
her
living room as if
he
belonged there and then had the audacity to smile, completely disregarding the fact she held him at gunpoint. She aimed the gun lower.

His smile vanished.

That was better. He wouldn't think the situation was so damned funny if she blew his balls off. “I never miss what I aim at,” she added for good measure.

“The bank is going to be robbed,” he blurted.

Robbed? Yeah, right. Why would anyone want to rob the bank? The risk would be higher than what they could steal.

He suddenly closed his eyes.

What the hell? He acted as if he was about to leave. Was he planning to plow right past her? She tightened her grip on the gun. “How would you know the bank is going to be robbed?”

He opened his eyes, looking put out that she'd guessed his intentions and foiled his plan to escape. “Trust me,” he said.

“You break into my home, then tell me to trust you. I don't think so, cowboy. Turn around and put your hands on the wall.” It was a shame the guy was a few bricks shy of a load because he was damned attractive. Not that his appearance would influence her. She'd met her fair share of good-looking criminals who tried to talk her out of handcuffing them. Their charm never worked.

“The Randolph bank is going to be robbed tonight,” he repeated his warning.

Okay, she'd play his game and see exactly what he was up to. “And how do you know this?” He crossed his arms. She tightened her grip. “Don't make me nervous.” She motioned for him to lower his arms.

The slow smile appeared again, but this time it reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling them at the corners. The stranger was starting to piss her off. Their gazes locked and she found it difficult to look away. His eyes were an intense blue, mesmerizing. He broke the connection. His gaze slowly drifted downward as if he mentally removed everything she wore.

Her body began to ache with a need that burned low in her belly. When he finally raised his head, he wore an expression that said he knew exactly what effect he had on her and that she'd stopped thinking about shooting him. Maybe, but that didn't mean she wouldn't start up again. She raised her chin, daring him to try something and see what she was capable of doing.

“You're not willing to trust me?” he asked with a slow Texas drawl. He slipped one thumb into his pocket, his fingers tapping lightly against the denim.

Against her will, she watched, mesmerized by the motion of his fingers tapping, then brushing lightly against his pocket. With supreme effort, she forced herself to concentrate on getting him in handcuffs. She stifled a groan. That thought created a wealth of unwanted images.

Somewhere between Fort Worth and coming home she'd lost her edge. A month ago she would've had this guy in custody by now and be reading him his rights.

“How do you know the bank will be robbed?” she asked, deciding the more she knew, the better off she'd be.

He reached up with his free hand and removed his hat.

She jerked, almost pulling the trigger. “Be careful your next move isn't your last.” He had no idea how skittish he was making her.

He paused, then slowly brought up his other hand and raked it through thick, dark blond hair before settling the hat on his head once more. He wore a pained expression.

Oh right,
he
was feeling put out. She was damn sorry she'd interrupted his plans to steal her blind. Next time she'd make sure she called out before entering the house in case there was another intruder.

“I'm telling you this because I promised someone I'd look out for you.”

“For me? Really?” That was laughable. This kept getting better and better. The guy was lying through his teeth. “You'll be glad to know I can take care of myself.”

He shook his head. “Not tonight you won't.”

“What's so different about tonight?”

“You'll be shot and killed.”

A flash of fear swept through her. She felt the color drain from her face, even knowing the guy was lying to throw her off guard.

He muttered something about that not coming out right, then cursed. “I didn't want to get involved.” He drew in a deep breath. “Just be careful tonight, okay?” Then he apologized in an offhanded way. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

Her hand trembled, then steadied as she took one hand off the gun and reached up to her shoulder. “You did get involved, though, and I don't scare easily.” She pushed the button on the mike clamped to a loop on her shirt. The cord curled down to the radio hooked on her belt. “This is Raine,” she told the dispatcher, dispensing with formalities. “I need backup at the ranch. I have an intruder.” Her voice was firm, authoritative. She released the button.

The radio crackled. “10-4, Raine,” a man's voice came across the air waves.

The radio crackled again and another man began to talk. “Put me en route. I'm already in my car.”

“10-4, Ethan.”

Ethan Miles was the last person she wanted to back her up. The lead deputy was a jerk. He always found fault, always pushed her buttons until she wanted to scream. But she didn't. Instead, she did her best to fit in. She was the outsider. It didn't matter that she'd grown up in Randolph. She had a feeling that was the main reason most of the deputies resented her. She
had
grown up in Randolph and they hadn't. But right now, she'd take whatever deputy they sent.

“You didn't have to do that,” the intruder said. “I won't hurt you.” He took a step toward her.

Raine's eyes narrowed. “But I
will
hurt you if you move any closer.”

“Will you?” He took another step. “Look me in the eyes, Raine. Can you pull the trigger?”

She automatically looked up, then found once again that she couldn't look away. She blinked several times, but the longer she stared into his eyes, the more relaxed she felt.

“Your eyes are beautiful.” His words were soft, as though he didn't want to break the spell he cast. “They're a very unusual shade of green with tiny silver sparkles.”

“Stay back or I'll shoot.” Her voice sounded as sluggish as she felt.

“I can't blame you if your finger gets a little itchy. Just not when you're holding a loaded gun pointed at me.”

Shoot
him!
a voice inside her screamed, but she had no strength to pull the trigger. The man stopped in front of her and took the gun from her lax hand. He was right. She was going to die, but he wouldn't wait until tonight. He'd shoot her where she stood.

When she stumbled, he grabbed her arm to keep her from falling and followed until she backed herself against the wall. “You always have to be the one in control.” He spoke the words so softly she had to strain to hear. “I'd love to show you how it feels to lose control.”

“Who are you?” she managed to say. He was too close, invading her space. He was a scorching summer day, his breath warming her skin while waves of erotic heat shimmered down her body.

He set her weapon on a nearby table, but he never let her eyes break contact with his.

“I'm just someone who wants to help.”

Some of her equilibrium returned and she raised her chin. “I don't need anyone's help. I've always taken care of myself.”

“And your mother, too.”

A cold chill trickled down her spine. “What do you know about my mother?”

“And your father. You took care of him. Now you're taking care of your grandfather. When will someone take care of you?” He touched her cheek.

A jolt of electricity shot through her. She flinched.

What was wrong with her? She could take this guy. One quick jab to his midsection and then one solid punch to his jaw and it would all be over. Only problem was her arms felt like she held fifty pound weights. “I don't need anyone to take care of me,” she said with as much defiance as she could muster.

“Don't you?”

He reached to the back of her head and pulled one of the pins from the tight bun. “You're not a simpering Southern lady with a creamy complexion. Not that I've seen any. Just heard about sweet Southern belles. Maybe they don't exist.” He shook his head as he studied her. “There's nothing pale about you. And you have a very determined chin.” He removed another pin. A few dark auburn strands escaped to lie against her cheek. “Beautiful.”

She managed to raise her arm. Her hand brushed his. “Stop.”

“Why? Afraid I'll discover who you really are?” His gaze drifted lazily over her as his hand encircled her wrist. “Or are you afraid of what I can make you feel?”

Heat rose up her face because she knew there was some truth to his words. The guy was dangerous. Her movements were lethargic, but she defiantly raised her chin. “Release me or I'll make sure you're locked away forever and I'll be the one who throws away the key,” she ground out.

“If you were in the cell with me, forever wouldn't be nearly long enough to enjoy making love to you.” But he did as she asked and released her wrist.

She swallowed hard as images of the two of them naked in bed filled her thoughts. She forced them aside. “I'm an officer of the law and you're trespassing.”

“You're right, but trespassing with you would be so damn sweet.”

In the distance she heard a car.
Backup
. She should've felt more relief. What the hell was wrong with her?

He picked up her Glock off the table. Fear raced through her, but he only placed the gun in her hand, then stepped away. “A shame we couldn't have more time. I'd show you delights you've never even thought about.'

She held her gun tightly. She was right. The guy was crazy.

“Be careful when you patrol the streets tonight,” Dillon warned. “There will be two men near the vault when you investigate a light. They'll be wearing black ski masks. One of them will be tugging on the collar of his dark sweatshirt as though the material is scratching his neck.”

Raine squared her shoulders. How had he gotten the drop on her? And why did he return her gun? Was he crazy enough that he would play games?

“You'll have the drop on the bank robbers,” he continued.

“Where do you fit into all this?” she finally asked, her voice scratchy.

“There will be a man behind one of the desks who sees you enter the bank,” he continued, not bothering to answer. “When he bumps the chair behind the desk, you'll turn toward him. His gun will go off.” He drew in a deep breath. “The bullet will hit you center chest. You'll be dead before you hit the ground.”

“There are doctors who can help you,” she said, then wondered if they might help her, too, because she had no idea how he was able to get her gun away from her. “I have to take you in.” She motioned with her gun. “Turn around and place your hands on the wall, feet spread. Don't make any sudden moves or…or…I'll shoot.” Her words lacked conviction and her hands were shaking. Her gut instinct kept telling her that if he were going to hurt her, he would have already had plenty of opportunity. What game did he play?

He closed his eyes.

The light in the hallway flickered, then popped before going out. She was suddenly surrounded by darkness. “Don't move!” she threatened as cool air swooshed around her.

The front door slammed open. Bright morning light spilled from the hallway, momentarily blinding Raine.

“Officer Miles,” Ethan called from the front porch.

Raine ducked into the hallway, leaning against the wall, heart beating faster than when Billy Ray asked her to the senior prom. What the hell happened?

Get
ahold
of
yoursel
f
! You still have an intruder!

For just a minute, he hadn't seemed like an intruder.

He'd caught her off guard, nothing more. She was tired and he wasn't your run-of-the-mill intruder. The cowboy was sexy and he definitely filled out a pair of low-riding, snug-fitting jeans, but breaking and entering was still a crime and that made him a criminal. She knew there was more to it. He'd played her. That pissed her off. No one got the better of her. No one.

She shot a look into the living room. There were too many dark corners and too much furniture. He could be hiding behind anything. The living room was a hodgepodge of pieces that were only good for gathering dust. She should've hauled most of the stuff to the attic, but her grandfather had looked so pitiful when she mentioned downsizing that she didn't have the heart to make any changes. She was getting soft.

“Raine?” Ethan asked. “You okay?”

She'd forgotten her backup was still on the porch.

“I'm okay, but I don't see the intruder,” she said. “The bulb blew in the hallway and the room went dark. He probably used the opportunity to hide. The hallway is clear.” Her grip tightened on the gun. There was no way the guy could've made it past her. “He has to be in the living room.”

Ethan moved down the hall to stand beside her. Raine had to admit the man was all business when it came to answering a call. He was a good cop, but knowing what he was doing didn't make him less of an ass.

“You need to fix the front door so it doesn't squeak,” he chastised.

“I'm right on it,” she told him and was privileged to receive his infamous cold-eyed stare. One look from his steely gray eyes would have criminals ready to sign a confession. “Can we take care of the intruder before I start the projects on my to-do list?”

His eyebrows drew together, and for a second she regretted her sarcasm. But only for a second. She was used to rocking the boat. When she had come home to Randolph and was immediately hired by Sheriff Barnes, the other deputies were pissed. Todd Bell from the next county over had planned to take the job. It didn't matter that he found a better paying one in Dallas with a chance for more training. She was pretty sure they still blamed her because Sheriff Barnes and her father were once friends and the other officers probably thought that gave her special privileges. Maybe it did, but she'd needed the job, so she took it.

Holding his gun with one hand, Ethan pulled his black Maglite from the loop on his belt and turned it on. He was all business.

“Was he armed?” he asked.

“No.” She frowned. “I don't think so.” His expression made her cringe. It was worse than the steely eyed look. Ethan always made her feel like she lacked a key ingredient to be a good cop. She raised her chin and met his gaze head on. “There wasn't a visible weapon. It doesn't mean he didn't have one on him.”

He didn't comment, telling her exactly what he thought without words. Not that she cared. She only wanted the intruder behind bars so she could crawl in bed for a few hours of sleep.

The beam of Ethan's flashlight made its way around the room. Nothing. “If you're in here, you might as well show yourself. It'll go a lot easier on you.”

Silence surrounded them like a graveyard at midnight. He reached inside and flipped on the light switch. Brightness filled the space, chasing away the shadows. He cautiously stepped farther inside. Raine braced herself, expecting the stranger to jump out at them any second, but as Ethan looked behind every piece of furniture, her anxiety grew.

“The man was right where you're standing. Tall, maybe six two or six three. Dark blond hair. Black cowboy hat.” Raine hated the fact that she sounded apologetic. “He was right there,” she said, but with less conviction.

“You just got off duty,” Ethan said. “You're tired. Maybe you just thought you saw someone.”

“I know what I saw. He spoke to me.” She gritted her teeth to keep from saying more.

“Are you positive you didn't imagine him?”

The biggest slap in the face was when Ethan holstered his gun. He might as well have told her that he didn't believe there ever was an intruder. “No, I didn't imagine him.”

“Did the man say anything?” Ethan asked.

She started to tell Ethan about the man's dire warning, but stopped herself at the last moment. What could she say? The bank would be robbed? She would be shot and killed? Ethan would
really
think she'd lost her marbles. “Not much. Nothing specific.”

Maybe he'd slipped out of the house when Ethan drew her attention away after all. The stranger could've gone past her.

She'd gotten maybe four or five hours sleep the day before. Last night her shift dragged by. Now that it seemed her intruder was gone, she no longer felt the adrenaline rush. Raine was so tired she could barely stand.

He sighed with exasperation. “If he didn't say anything, then can you describe him a little better? Did he have a beard? Was he unkempt?”

Hysteria bubbled inside her. The stranger could have posed for a tropical paradise ad. A blond hunk with an amazing tan walking on the beach, white shirt flapping open in the breeze, no shoes, slacks rolled up to his ankles. He didn't look like he belonged in a freakin' line-up!

Before she could say another word, footsteps sounded on the stairs behind them. They both whirled around. She pointed her gun up the stairs at the same time Ethan drew his gun back out of his holster.

Her grandfather stopped halfway down the stairs, his eyebrows drawn together. “What's all the blasted commotion? A body can't get a decent night's sleep around here anymore.”

“Grandpa, what are you doing home?” Raine holstered her gun as relief and a twinge of anger filled her. Her grandfather was getting forgetful and frail. He was supposed to stay at Tilly's on the nights she worked, which kept him out of trouble. Did she have control of any situation?

“I had Tilly bring me back last night. This is my house. I don't need a dang babysitter.” He continued down the rest of the stairs. “I don't like sleeping in a strange bed, either. Makes my joints ache. Besides, you've been doing all the chores and working at the sheriff's office. I was up at four this morning and got them all done. Now you can get some decent sleep.”

“You're okay, Mr. McCandless?” Ethan asked.

“Why wouldn't I be?” Grandpa groused. “I look okay, don't I? I ain't too old to milk Bessie or gather a few eggs.”

Something close to a snort escaped before Ethan covered it with a cough. “You look fine, Mr. McCandless.” He put away his gun.

Ethan treated Grandpa a lot like he did her. Or was she imagining the tone of his voice? She was tired and on edge. She directed her attention back to her grandfather. She would talk to him later about staying at Tilly's. “Did you hear anyone in the house, Grandpa?”

“I did.” He came down the rest of the stairs. When his feet were solid on the floor, he reached down and massaged one knee with a grimace. “Damned arthritis,” he mumbled.

“You're okay, though?” Ethan asked.

“No. I'm getting old. Arthritis ain't a bit fun. Pills don't help, neither.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Grandpa didn't understand the seriousness of the situation. “There was an intruder. He was dressed like a cowboy. Ethan wants to know if he hurt you.” Raine's gaze ran over him, looking for any sign of injury, but other than being bothered by his arthritis, Grandpa looked fine.

“No, why would he hurt me? I'm the one who asked him to come.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You asked him?”

“Yeah, I asked him. I prayed for a miracle and he showed up. I had to do a fine piece of talking to convince him to help. Can't rightly say why he decided to, but something must've changed his mind. All I wanted him to do was watch over you.”

Finally, they might actually get somewhere. Grandpa would talk to anyone. The intruder was probably looking for work but found a trusting old man he could take advantage of by convincing Grandpa he would watch out for her—if they paid him, of course. Her grandfather was a little gullible at times.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. “Can you describe him?”

Grandpa scratched his chin. “Describe him, you say.” He hesitated, as though he was thinking about the man. “He was tall. Dark blond hair. Blue eyes. Black cowboy hat.”

“It sounds like the same man,” she confirmed.

Grandpa looked at her. “Of course it is. Who else would be in the house?”

“Was he armed?” Ethan asked.

“Now why would an angel need a weapon?” Grandpa looked at Ethan as if he was bonkers. “We had us a beer out there under the oak a few days ago and I told him 'bout the troubles Raine's been having.” He sent a glaring look toward Ethan. “Not that this is any of your business.”

Her stomach flipped over. Her grandfather's cognitive abilities were rapidly declining and it broke her heart. If Ethan said one word to him, she…she'd knock him into tomorrow. She had a hell of a right hook!

Deep breath. Exhale. She had to stay calm, get a grip on the situation. “Grandpa, think about how that sounds. An angel drinking beer?” Her voice was soft, as though she spoke to a child.

“I ain't crazy, if that's what you're thinking, and he ain't really an angel.”

She let out a whoosh of air. Good, her grandfather hadn't completely bought into the stranger's story.

“He's a nephilim.”

“Excuse me?” Ethan's eyebrows drew together.

“A nephilim,” Grandpa repeated, enunciating the syllables as though Ethan was a little slow. “He's only part angel. The other part is man. You see, the way he told me was that his father, who was an angel, came down and bedded this beautiful mortal woman. Well, she had a baby who was mixed race, you could say. Dillon can answer prayers. That's why he came. I prayed for a miracle.”

“And you had a few beers together.” Ethan looked as though he had it all figured out and there were probably more than a few beers involved.

“The mortal side of him still likes all the pleasures of the flesh—like drinking.”

And sex?
The thought crossed Raine's mind before she could stop it. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, telling herself not to let her thoughts drift in that direction. She must really be tired.

Ethan pushed the button on his mike. “False alarm, Art. I'll take a look around but I doubt I'll find anything.”

Raine raised her chin in defiance. There had been an intruder. She didn't care that Ethan chose not to believe her.

“I don't guess you need me,” Ethan said when he was off the radio. “How many people can say they have their own guardian angel?” He snickered as he walked to the door, but stopped before going out, then turned to look back at her. He studied her for a moment as though he was trying to decide if she was crazy, too. “Just in case, I'll check the outbuildings and drive down the surrounding roads.
If
there was an intruder, the highway isn't that far. He'll probably hitch a ride with someone.”

“Ass,” she muttered when he was out of hearing range.

She didn't imagine the intruder. He'd been in the living room. She might have imagined him taking her gun…

A cold chill swept over her. She looked past the screen door to the trees outside, but not a leaf stirred. There was something about the stranger's eyes. Such an intense shade of blue. They drew her in and held her captive. One time when she was swimming in the ocean and the tide was going out, she'd gotten caught in the undertow. She struggled to get to shore and finally made it. The intruder had that same kind of pull, almost hypnotic.

She frowned. But then he'd broken the connection. No, she didn't think she imagined any of it.

Raine forced herself back to reality. She was practical, and she certainly didn't think any man could sway her like he had if she wasn't so blasted exhausted. If she didn't get some sleep she'd start believing Grandpa's story about the intruder being an angel. No, Grandpa called him a nephilim. Half angel, half man.

There was only one logical explanation. The stranger was a drifter who drank Grandpa's beer, then almost got caught. He made up the crazy story about her getting shot and killed, hoping it would distract her.

Damn, damn, damn! She wanted this guy caught and locked away. No one took advantage of her. No one!

She glared at the light fixture. It was just luck that the bulb blew out and he could make a run for it. Ethan was probably right about the guy heading for the highway. What she wouldn't give for a moment alone with the intruder so she could show him exactly who was in charge of the situation.

“Never did like that boy,” Grandpa mumbled, breaking into her thoughts.

She shook her head, having forgotten her grandfather was in the room. She definitely needed more sleep.

He nodded toward the front door when she didn't comment. “When your father was alive, he would've put Ethan in his place fast enough. People respected him. He was a fine sheriff.” He swayed, then grabbed the newel post.

Raine rushed forward. “You okay, Grandpa?”

“Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?”

Raine slipped her arm around his waist. He was frailer than he had been a month ago. A moment of panic seized her. What would she do when he was gone? Grandpa was the only family she had left.