In A Cowboy's Embrace. Charlotte Maclay

have to watch out for me, won’t they?” Cliff patted the badge on his chest.

      Tasha’s unwilling gaze shifted to his holstered weapon and she shuddered. She didn’t like guns. Or violence. And wondered how a man who was so obviously gentle could make his living carrying a gun.

      Before he could finish off the casserole, he got a call on the radio he had strapped to his belt. An accident on the state highway east of Brady.

      “Gotta go, kids.” Standing, he gave his son a quick kiss. “Do what Tasha tells you, okay?”

      “I will, Daddy.”

      He circled the table to give Melissa a kiss on the top of her head. “You, too, Little Miss Goldilocks.”

      She giggled. “I have to. She’s my mommy.”

      For a heart-stopping moment, Tasha thought he was going to kiss her, too. A husband and father going off to work. But then he stopped himself.

      “Good dinner…considering the main course used to wear feathers.”

      She laughed with him, but somewhere deep inside disappointment curled painfully through her. The family image they’d all created sitting around the kitchen table wasn’t real; he hadn’t kissed her.

      It was hard to tell which one of those truths hurt the most. Although she recognized neither of them should.

      CLIFF GOT BACK HOME after midnight and he was bone-weary. The accident near Brady hadn’t been too bad, only minor injuries, but it had taken him a long time to complete the paperwork after the tow truck had cleaned up the debris.

      He slipped into the house through the back door, sensing the good kind of quiet that meant everything was all right. Smiling, he realized Tasha had left a light on for him in the living room. But he wasn’t prepared for what he found there.

      She was curled with her legs under her, her head resting on the back of the couch, her hair feathering around her face. On the end table there was an open paperback book as though she’d just laid it down. She had one hand on his son, who was sleeping with his head on her lap, a light blanket arranged over his small form.

      Tears stung at the backs of Cliff’s eyes. It should have been his wife Yvonne comforting Stevie against whatever fear had kept him awake. But it was another woman. A woman so classically beautiful, she took his breath away. He didn’t want to care about her, be attracted to her. Yet every instinct in his body contradicted what he kept telling himself. When it came to Tasha Papadakis Reynolds, he seemed incapable of rational thought.

      He knelt beside her. Against his will, his fingers toyed with the ends of her hair—molten silver so fine, it must have been created by the gods.

      In sleep, her lips were relaxed, inviting a kiss. Her lashes formed golden half circles beneath her eyes. A splash of color highlighted her cheeks, the makeup so subtle he wasn’t sure if what he saw was her natural color or something a brush created. And her sultry scent was all around her, enticing him.

      Slowly, as if she were Sleeping Beauty awakening, her eyes opened. Blue magic the shade of midnight.

      “Hi.” She blinked and ran her tongue across her lips.

      He felt the gesture as powerfully as if she’d slid the zipper down on his trousers. “Hi, yourself.”

      She roused slowly. “You’re home safe.”

      “Hmm. No bad guys out there tonight.” Only traffic victims who shouldn’t have been driving so fast. “Stevie have a problem?”

      “The alien space monsters were after him.”

      He nodded. “It’s that Monroe kid. He’s in Stevie’s kindergarten class, or was. School’s out now.”

      “Your son seems particularly sensitive.”

      To Cliff’s surprise, she lifted her hand and placed it on his cheek, her fingers incredibly soft and caressing. Delicate like the wings of a butterfly.

      “Like his dad, I suspect.” She breathed the words as warmly as a summer breeze.

      Cliff knew he had to move away—away from her touch. Away from the feelings that swept through him. He’d been lonely for so damn long….

      By sheer force of will, he stood. It wouldn’t be right for any of them if he followed his impulse to kiss her, to carry her into the guest bedroom and make love to her for the rest of the night.

      Instead, he picked his son up in his arms. “Thanks for taking care of my boy.”

      She gave him a lazy smile. “No problem. That’s my job.”

      For now. She’d be leaving within weeks, maybe even days. They hadn’t even worked out the details and Stevie wasn’t her responsibility. Cliff didn’t want his son hurt when Tasha left. Keeping an emotional distance was better for all concerned.

      She followed him into Stevie’s bedroom, where she pulled up the covers that Melissa had tossed aside.

      Stevie muttered something unintelligible as Cliff tucked him in, then rolled to his side, curled into a ball, instantly falling back into deep sleep.

      The night-light cast an orange glow in the room, enough to see the usual clutter had been straightened, the toy box lid closed, the wooden train set in its place on the brightly painted play table Cliff had constructed for Stevie’s second birthday, when he’d still had his mother.

      Cliff lifted his eyes, meeting Tasha’s gaze. The room felt strangely warm, the air sultry with her seductive perfume. She stood on one side of the room, the twin beds between them. Yet he could almost feel the heat of her body touching him.

      “Where’s Melissa’s father?” he asked quietly.

      “I have no idea. Our marriage, such as it was, only lasted two years. He said he needed to find himself. The last I heard he was looking in Australia.”

      Cliff couldn’t imagine walking out on his child—or on a wife like Tasha, for that matter.

      “This guy you were engaged to…was Melissa upset when you broke it off?”

      “Just the opposite.” With a quick check of her child, Tasha left her bedside, moving closer to Cliff as soundlessly as a moonbeam. “Nick wasn’t very fond of kids. She picked up on that right away, which should have given me a clue that he wasn’t exactly the best catch of the year.”

      “Love can do funny things to people.”

      She glanced away from him. “I’m not sure love was involved—for either of us. More like convenience, although I admit there was some sexual chemistry. He was my agent and business manager. We often traveled together. It was, well, easy to get involved. It was also a mistake.”

      He’d like to be able to console her, but that would be a mistake, too.

      With a shake of his head, he cleared the image of holding her in his arms. “Morning comes early around here. We’d better call it a night.”

      “More roundups tomorrow?”

      “One more day and we ought to have it licked. For this season.”

      “Good night, then.” She slipped past him, heading for the guest room.

      He inhaled her lingering scent, and cursed himself for wanting to follow her all the way to her bed.

      HE’D JUST POURED his first cup of morning coffee, and the mug froze halfway to his mouth when Tasha walked into the kitchen. No woman had a right to look that good first thing in the morning—her hair sleep-mussed, her face free of makeup and her cheeks naturally flushed.

      Darn it all, he’d like to see her sleepy-eyed, her hair mussed from a night of his lovemaking—an image that had kept him awake most of the night. Not gonna happen, he reminded himself.

      “I heard you up.” Pulling her cotton robe modestly around her, she smiled a