The Judge. Jan Hudson

supplied. “And our other brother is a Texas Ranger. Sam Bass Outlaw.”

      “And our baby sister is with the FBI,” Frank said. “Belle Starr Outlaw.”

      “Quite an impressive family,” Carrie said.

      “We try.” J.J. polished off the last bite on his plate. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going into the kitchen to kiss the cook. Nice meeting you, Carrie.” He stood, bowed slightly and left.

      She smiled. “I like your brother.”

      “He’s a good guy. Do you like his brother, too?” Frank nearly groaned. Had he really said that?

      “Of course. I’m glad you didn’t die.”

      Her attention seemed to be on his hands, and he looked down to find that he was twirling his wedding ring round and round on his finger. “Me, too. My wife did, though.” God, that was awkward.

      Carrie looked puzzled. “Did what?”

      “Died. My wife was killed in a car wreck.”

      She reached across the table and touched his hand. “I’m so sorry. When was this?”

      “It’s been almost two years.” He shook his head to keep the memories from intruding. “How about dessert? Mary Beth makes a mean apple tart.”

      “Sounds tempting, but if I eat another bite, I’ll nod off over the records this afternoon. I need to scoot.”

      She took her wallet from her bag, but Frank waved her off. “My invitation, my treat.”

      “Thanks. I’ll get the check next time.”

      “It’s a deal.” He stood as she said her goodbyes, then watched her walk out the door. He liked Carrie Campbell. She was warm, open and easy to talk to. Plus she was a beautiful woman.

      Behind him J.J. said, “Beautiful woman.”

      “Is she? I hadn’t noticed.”

      J.J. hooted. “You’re lying and your feet stink!”

      Frank tried to suppress a grin. “She is easy on the eyes. But don’t make more out of this than it is.”

      “Me? I’m not making anything out of it? When are you going to see her again?”

      “I don’t know. Want some dessert?”

      “You buying?” J.J. asked.

      “I bought breakfast, you mooch.”

      “Say, Mary Beth and I are going over to Travis Lake Saturday night to see a musical that the college is putting on. Why don’t you ask Carrie, and go with us?”

      “I doubt that she’ll even be here then.”

      “Sure she will. Mary Beth said her reservation is for several weeks. Ask her. Get out and enjoy yourself, Frank. It’s time.”

      He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’ll think about it.”

      Chapter Three

      Keeping her identity secret was turning out to be a problem, Carrie thought as she hurried to her room after lunch. She’d been squirming as she’d sat there with a sheriff and a judge trying to walk a fine line between sidestepping the truth and telling a blatant lie. While she’d been very careful not to actually lie to them, neither had she said anything to correct the impression that the old man had made about her being a genealogist. In fact, she could have kissed the old codger for getting her off the hook. She hoped she wasn’t getting herself into a huge mess by her evasions. It was one thing to misrepresent herself to townspeople and quite another to mislead officers of the law.

      Maybe she needed to do a little genealogical research on the side to keep herself honest. Had any of her ancestors come from this area of Texas? Seems as if there might have been a great-great-uncle on her father’s side whose first wife was from around here. She’d check. In the meantime, she would be wise to avoid the Outlaw brothers.

      Carrie stayed so busy the rest of the day that she didn’t have much time to think about him, but that evening when she took a break from studying the county platts scattered over her bed, her thoughts turned to Frank Outlaw. She lay back on her propped pillows, took a sip of her cola and remembered that smile. And the handsome contours of his face. And the timbre of his voice.

      Frank Outlaw was a hunk.

      And he wasn’t married.

      But she needed to forget about him. She couldn’t afford to jeopardize this deal.

      Easier said than done. She thought about him some more as she creamed off her makeup and put on her sleep shirt. She thought of him the next morning as she passed his office in the courthouse. And again at five of twelve when she decided to go to lunch. Not in a long, long time had she met a man that interested her as much as Frank.

      But, she told herself, she’d be wise to steer clear of him. Basically an honest person, she felt a little guilty about giving him the wrong impression about her business in Naconiche. No. She felt a lot guilty.

      He wasn’t in the hall as he’d been the day before.

      Which was good, she quickly reminded herself, if she wanted to avoid him. Maybe she’d have lunch at the City Grill. Yes. He’d be going to the tearoom.

      She hurried across the street to the café. There wasn’t an empty seat at the counter and all the tables were taken. Then, as she scanned the room again, their eyes met. It was Frank. If he hadn’t seen her, she’d have made tracks out the door, but she didn’t want to look like an idiot. She’d simply wait until there was a seat available. Trying to avoid looking at the judge, she studied the framed photographs of baseball teams hanging near the cash register.

      “Carrie?”

      Turning, she saw that Frank had come up behind her. She smiled. “Hello.”

      He smiled. “Hello. Would you like to join me?”

      “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

      “You wouldn’t be intruding. And you’re not likely to find a seat anytime soon.”

      So much for trying to avoid him. Accepting fate, she said, “Thanks,” and followed him to his table. After she was seated, she scanned the menu. “What’s the special today?”

      He looked amused. “Liver and onions.”

      She made a face and shuddered. “I hate liver and onions.”

      “Me, too. When my mom used to fix liver for dinner, I always offered my little brother Sam a quarter to eat mine.”

      “And he did it?”

      “Yep. Sam would eat almost anything.” He chuckled. “If the price was right.”

      Carrie loved that chuckle, the way it rumbled deep in his throat and sent little ripples up her spine. And his mouth fascinated her. Although it was definitely masculine, the full, curved shape of his lips was downright beautiful—and sexy as the dickens.

      He must have been reading her mind, because just then the tip of his tongue appeared and moistened his lower lip. Entranced, she watched his tongue withdraw, observed his lips press together, then relax, noted the glisten left on his mouth by the action.

      Darned if her toes didn’t curl.

      She glanced up, and his eyes locked with hers. They were dark, very dark and filled with something indefinable…but totally captivating. His eyes alone would have made him enormously attractive. Bedroom eyes they called them. The kind that made such glorious promises that women wanted to throw themselves into his arms and follow him anywhere. She wasn’t immune. Her impulses ran along the same line.

      “What would you like?” he asked.

      A slow smile spread