Lone Star Bachelor. Линда Гуднайт

in his left hand paused above the steaming, aromatic food. “Not hardly.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Religions are about rules and laws. Christianity is about my personal relationship with Jesus.”

      She’d heard that before but all this personal relationship stuff went right over her head. She knew faith didn’t work like that. Her daddy had religion and claimed to be a Christian. She couldn’t see the difference. Do this. Don’t do that. If she stepped out of line, God would get her and she would suffer.

      All she knew about faith was that her father twisted Bible verses to control his wife and kids.

      If that was Christianity, she didn’t want any part of it. Or any part of another smiling, handsome man who claimed, like Cam had, to be a man of faith.

      * * *

      Sawyer, quick mind that he was, instantly caught her anti-religion vibe. Somebody or something had turned her off the Lord. To him, and to every Buchanon old enough to think, her reaction was tragic. All the more because he liked her.

      Something beneath the surface of the cool, serious PI intrigued him. She was much more than she’d let him see.

      Yeah, and he must be sniffing too much sawdust.

      Whatever. He’d take Mom’s sage advice and live his faith instead of preaching it.

      With that in mind, he shifted easily to her other interesting statement. “How long were you a cop?”

      She sipped her tea, and for a second Sawyer thought she would tell him to mind his own business. Again.

      She set the glass down and rubbed damp fingers on her napkin. In this heat, the tea glass condensed faster than Campbell’s soup.

      “Four years in Paris. Texas, not France.”

      Was that the hint of a real smile he spotted dancing around her pretty mouth? Being a naturally happy guy, he couldn’t help offering a smile in response.

      Apparently, discussing her job was preferable to talking about God.

      “You’ve probably had to say that a million times.”

      “At least. Mostly on the phone. People here in Texoma land know the real Paris is in Texas.”

      A joke. They were making progress. Pepped him right up. “Did you like being a cop?”

      “Loved it. Most of the time.”

      “Then why switch careers?”

      “Oh, you know.” She shrugged, contemplating a biscuit and a pat of real butter. “Did you always want to be a carpenter?”

      Changing topics. Nice diversion. Or was that a cop tactic to dig for info?

      “No. When I was six I wanted to be Batman. Still do, but they tell me the job is taken.”

      A spark lit her eyes. “Your degree is in business.”

      He slapped a hand against his chest, pretending shock. “Are you saying Batman didn’t have a business plan?”

      This time she actually smiled. And the result knocked his socks off. He was tempted to look under the table to see if they were still there. Except he was wearing work boots.

      “Seriously. Why a business degree if you planned to build things?”

      “Dad was a stickler. All of us kids had to at least try college—preferably his alma mater, Tech. I liked college life and stuck around to get a degree.” Mostly because of the good times, but he didn’t tell her that part. “Even if I pound nails for the family company, I’m still a businessman. What about you? Did you attend college?”

      He held his breath waiting for the cold shoulder.

      “Community college classes in criminal justice and then police academy and some investigation courses. I always knew what I wanted to do.”

      “How does one know such a thing? Especially you, being a woman.” He held up both hands. “No insult intended, but you’ve probably taken some flack as a female in a male-dominated field.”

      She stiffened up. “I can handle myself.”

      “No doubt.” One blast of that arctic stare and a lesser man would freeze in his tracks. “But it couldn’t be easy.”

      “I had some run-ins. Guys who didn’t want to ride with me. Who thought I couldn’t hold my own and would get them killed. Suggestive cartoons in my locker. The basic hazing stuff.”

      A bite of green beans froze halfway to Sawyer’s mouth. “Say that again.”

      She shrugged. “Harassment made me tougher. I wasn’t about to wimp out after that.”

      “Still.” He didn’t like the idea of some creep shooting innuendoes in her direction. He and the brothers would bust some chops if anyone did that to their sisters. Which brought to mind her family.

      “Didn’t your brothers want to knock some heads?”

      Her gaze was cool. “I didn’t tell them. Why would I?”

      A revealing confession. She faced the world on her own. “Because men stand up for their women.”

      “Let’s get this straight, Mr. Buchanon. I don’t need or want a man to take care of me.” She tossed a wadded napkin onto the table. “Not now. Not ever.”

      Ouch. Raw nerve. Somebody had done a number on her. Somebody who needed a knot jerked in his neck.

      Sawyer was normally a lover, not a fighter, but he wouldn’t mind meeting up with the culprit. Preferably alone.