The Maverick. Carrie Alexander

when it comes to kissing.”

      Her narrowed eyes warned him to hush. “Kissing,” she hissed, leaning closer, “doesn’t come into it. What we have is a professional relationship. That’s it.” Her expression was not as confident as her words. “That is it,” she repeated for emphasis.

      Yeah, sure. He was convinced.

      “I don’t appreciate you trying to undermine my reputation—my authority, I mean—with adolescent stunts like…like…”

      “Kissing?”

      “I can’t believe you did that. Someone might have seen!”

      Luke spread his hands, as if he were blameless. “Sorry. It dawned on me that I’d forgotten to give you a proper hello.”

      She tamped her trooper hat back in place, eyeing him belligerently from beneath the brim. “After so many years, a handshake would have sufficed.”

      “Not for Deputy Sophie.” He gave her a lazy, two-finger salute. “Apparently only handcuffs do it for you, ma’am.”

      “Well, gosh, Luke, what did you expect?” She was baffled. “A big Welcome Home party? Was I supposed to be stuck here in Treetop, unchanged, waiting breathlessly for the day you’d return for—” She swallowed the next word, but he thought it might have been me.

      His pulse raced. Maybe it wasn’t too late to right an old wrong.

      Sophie wasn’t as hopeful. With an effort, she reassumed her distant, objective detachment. “Too bad Judge Entwhistle chose today to go soft. You’d be sentenced to ten years of hard labor if it had been up to me.”

      “Exactly what crime would you be punishing me for?” he asked softly.

      She sucked in another breath, her unschooled response apparent in the glitter of her eyes and the high color flaming in her cheeks. After a moment, she looked away. Too late.

      She despises me, Luke thought. Suddenly he knew that his abandonment had been harder on her than he’d imagined, never mind Heath’s party-girl reports. And that in spite of it she’d stood her ground, living out her pain and humiliation under the scrutiny of the local denizens, some of whom had labeled her “trailer trash” before she’d learned how to talk.

      She had guts, his Sophie. Whereas he’d taken the easy way out, even though it was becoming apparent that the path he’d traveled had cost him more than he’d known. Sophie had paid a high price too, but gained a new confidence and self-respect in exchange. She had found her place in the community, while he was still a freewheeling vagabond.

      The question was: After fourteen years and inestimable miles, had they wound up in the same place? With—considering the thin line between love and hate—equally strong feelings for each other?

      Did he still love Sophie Ryan, the feisty little brown-eyed girlfriend of his misspent youth?

      She’d never left his heart, hard and shriveled though it was. But he was smart enough to recognize that the woman she’d grown into might turn his memories and fantasies of her as topsy-turvy as a carnival ride.

      A ride for which the lady judge had just handed him a ticket. Which was not at all the harsh, swift justice Deputy Ryan had wished for, that was certain.

      Luke smiled.

      “Don’t smile at me,” Sophie warned, knowing she sounded foolish. It took all of her willpower not to wipe his kiss off her mouth, where it lingered like the warmth of a summer day.

      The courthouse doors opened. More of the spectators filed out. They gave Sophie and Luke a wide berth, not out of caution, but out of amusement. She seethed, struggling with her anger and frustration.

      Luke had made a laughingstock of her—again.

      “Keep an eye on him, Deputy,” someone called, eliciting laughter. “Don’t let him get away this time!”

      Snake Carson guffawed. “Handcuff him to your bedpost.”

      Sophie gritted her teeth. Ever since their time with the Mustangs, Snake had treated her like a pesky mosquito worthy of a good swat. The several hundred dollars’ worth of traffic citations she’d written him went unpaid, as if she were playing pretend, her badge made of tinfoil, her uniform only a costume. Someday, she vowed, she’d prove herself to Snake, to the Mustangs, and to every single person in Treetop who looked down on her.

      For now, she had to settle for jingling the handcuff case clipped to her equipment belt. “Better watch out, Carson. If you don’t pay your fines you’ll be next.”

      “G’wan, Soph.” Snake was a large, muscular man in a tight black T-shirt, baggy camo pants and Army boots that had never seen Army duty. He was also the kind of arrogant bully who’d never been properly challenged. She suspected he wasn’t as tough as he liked to imagine.

      The biker held up his tattooed arms, fists clenched, biceps bulging. “You can cuff me to your bed any day of the week, sweetheart.” A smattering of uncomfortable laughter accompanied his leer.

      Luke turned his steely, unblinking stare on Snake. It curdled the ex-Mustang’s bravado as swiftly as it had Sophie’s, even though Luke didn’t say a word.

      Snake did, but only one. A surprisingly high-pitched “Hey” popped out of his mouth as he lowered his arms. His lips clamped shut in embarrassment.

      When Luke looked back at her, there was a strong light in his eyes. Possession, Sophie thought. A chorus of breathy exhalations rose from the onlookers as though they’d all reached the same conclusion. It didn’t matter one iota that Luke hadn’t uttered a word, or even raised the mask of his icy non-expression.

      Branded. They all know I’m branded.

      Her throat was raw, her nerve endings screaming. The injustice of it inflamed her. She was the one with the gun, the handcuffs, the badge, the authority—and she was still the one who was branded. It wasn’t fair.

      Life was never fair, she brutally reminded herself. Especially not for women who were all too often at the mercy of their biology.

      Sophie thought of Joe—her sacrifice and her reward. Her burden. Her heart. And she thought of the judge’s unconventional ruling, a ruling that pretty much gave Sophie the leeway to handle Luke how she saw fit.

      Well, fine. The iniquity of life being what it was, there was still the law. Although men like Luke and Snake and Demon sometimes made the law seem as strong as the paper it was written on, let Luke try anything under her watch and he’d soon find out just how ruthless a woman scorned could be.

      “All right, everyone,” Sophie said in her brusque deputy voice. “The show’s over.” For now. “Let’s clear the steps.” She made shooing motions as if the townspeople were a bunch of sheep who needed to be herded in the right direction.

      She turned when Luke gingerly took his grandmother’s arm. “Just a moment, Mr. Salinger. I’d like to speak with you.”

      Mary Lucas nodded. “Good day, Deputy Ryan.”

      Sophie touched her brim. “Ma’am.” The frankness of the older woman’s cool-eyed regard was as discomfiting as ever. “I—um, I’m sorry I had to arrest Luke on his first day back, but…”

      “It was your job.” Mary waved a hand that had retained its elegance despite being roughened by work and gnarled by age. “Yes, yes, of course. I understand.”

      Sophie drew herself up. “I intend to follow Judge Entwhistle’s instructions. Luke won’t be getting into any trouble while he’s under my watch.”

      Although Mary was not normally one to bow to outside authority, she did not seem perturbed by Sophie’s pronouncement. “Indeed. My grandson needs to be kept on a short leash.”

      One corner of Luke’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t protest, either. It seemed that he’d learned the