A Touch of Scarlet. Liz Talley

eyes. “Good gravy, you are a piece of work.”

      Scarlet tossed her sister a smart-ass smile. “Why, thank you.”

      Rayne opened her eyes and leveled her gaze. “Look, I know you have reservations about Brent, but—”

      “Reservations? Yeah, you could call them that,” Scarlet said. “Rayne, he tried to pick me up at a bar three years ago. Slimy pick-up line and he didn’t even buy me a beer. He’s not the marrying kind. Guys like him don’t change.”

      Rayne waved her left hand in front of Scarlet. The diamond on the wedding band caught the sunlight streaming into the room. “I beg to differ. He is the marrying kind.”

      Scarlet shook her head. Rayne had no clue what she’d done. She’d married a veritable slut. No way would Brent be faithful. Scarlet knew his kind. They smiled, cajoled and had a gal’s ankles over her head before she could even get his digits. No way this ended well. “I’m sorry I can’t be happier, but this has heartbreak written all over it.”

      Rayne laughed. “Says the girl who has never been in love. What’s your longest relationship? A month? You flit from one thing to the other. Deep Shadows is the biggest commitment you’ve made thus far, so I don’t think you’re qualified.”

      Little do you know, big sis.

      “I don’t have to be in love to know you just screwed the pooch,” Scarlet snipped. “And let’s not bring me into this. We’re talking about you. Wholesome, smart, accomplished Rayne. Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. You don’t know about the big, bad wolves in this world.”

      The ones that rip out your heart and then tap-dance on it.

      “So I have to live in New York City to recognize people for what they are? Jeez, I didn’t know. I suppose I should have consulted my experienced, world-weary twenty-six-year-old sister on the steps I should take on falling in love.”

      “Love?” Scarlet snorted. “I don’t think you should call your desire to get into a hunk’s undies love.”

      Rayne flushed. “You wouldn’t know love if it slapped you in the face.” She usually looked sweet and fragile. She wasn’t. She fought dirty and pulled hair. “This is not about sleeping with Brent. I could do that without a ring on my finger. I love him and he loves me…and Henry.”

      Scarlet shook her head. “I’ve been around Oak Stand. I’ve been around him. You want to believe that because you’re lonely and Phillip is gone.”

      Rayne looked as if she might physically lash out at her. “This has nothing to do with being lonely or Phillip. You can’t understand, because you’re not capable. This is my life. If I make mistakes, they’re on me. I don’t need you to save me. You have enough on your plate.”

      Scarlet couldn’t disagree. Her life had been tough since she and John had split well over a year ago. What good would it do to toss her pain out for others to see? Her heart still ached, but no one would ever know how broken she truly was. She wouldn’t allow it because she couldn’t survive in her business by admitting to being vulnerable. To being dumped like last year’s fashions.

      Her sister rose. “You know, I won’t be able to change your mind. That’s obvious. Maybe if you hang around for a couple of days, you might see things differently.”

      “You’re not going on a honeymoon?”

      “Not until October, when we go to San Antonio for the Christmas show. Brent has a deadline at the end of September and I’m a working wife and mom. Plus, every day with Brent is—”

      “Don’t say it.” Scarlet knew she sounded like a snotty kid who didn’t get the last piece of candy. Her intentions had been honorable. She hadn’t wanted to see her older sister suffer through more than she’d already suffered after the death of her first husband. Didn’t want her to feel the aching emptiness Scarlet felt each time she closed her eyes. Time didn’t always heal wounds. “I’ll stick around for a few days, but don’t count on my changing my mind on lover boy anytime soon.”

      Rayne opened her mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it. She kept her hand on the doorknob for a moment, gazing hard at the Tiffany lamp on the nightstand next to Scarlet. Finally she made eye contact. “For what it’s worth, I appreciate your caring enough to try to save me from a perceived mistake.”

      “You’re welcome,” Scarlet said, trying to keep her stern resolve, but a warm spot pooled in her heart at her sister’s words. She’d always craved Rayne’s approval. Probably because Rayne had been such a steadfast influence in a world that had rocked arpeggio Scarlet’s whole life. From the moment she’d been born, her artisan parents had dragged their children around the country, living in communes, on Indian reservations and sometimes in campers in the middle of huge national forests. Scarlet’s childhood had been both magical and discordant. The two little girls had needed more stability than either parent was willing to deliver in their quest for peace, love and rainbows.

      Rayne had been the one to braid Scarlet’s hair, teach her how to tie her shoes and make sure she had milk money in her pocket. Rayne had sung lullabies, made macaroni and cheese, and helped Scarlet learn how to write her full name on broken-line paper. She’d been Scarlet’s angel right up until the day her parents had sent Rayne to live with Aunt Fran.

      But they hadn’t allowed Scarlet to stay in Texas. They’d chained her to them, declaring her too young to be separated from them. They had bumped from town to town. And it had made Scarlet tough. She learned to take care of herself. To punch bullies in the nose. To connive members of the commune into giving her ice-cream money. To manipulate. To blend. To pretend. Her earliest experiences had been training ground for becoming an actress.

      There was little Scarlet wouldn’t do for Rayne…even if it meant knocking some sense into her.

      But it was too late for such drastic measures, thanks to Officer Tight Ass.

      She swung her legs off the bed and padded to the window. The sun sank behind the neighbor’s house, thrusting brilliant fingers of light upon the deep green grass. It was peaceful and very, very different from the noisy streets normally outside her window.

      Her mind flitted from her sister to the cop who had frisked her. Officer Adam Hinton.

      When he’d touched her, she’d felt something that had been absent for well over a year—a stirring of desire. The flicker of feeling had rocked her. For the past few months, she’d been on a mission to feel something, anything, at a man’s touch. She’d forced herself to flirt, purposefully drank too much and bore sloppy kisses from strangers in clubs, but to no avail. She’d been dead to desire. Until a few hours ago.

      So why now? Why him?

      Adam Hinton was not her usual type. Or maybe he was. She couldn’t be certain. Until John, she’d liked young, wild and irresponsible in a guy. Now she didn’t have a clue what she wanted in a man. But something had been there between her and the cop. Perhaps his refusal to fall prey to her manipulation had poked her inner psyche. Maybe his by-the-book, take-no-shit attitude had reminded her of John. Had to be that. There was no other reason she’d felt anything other than anger at the squeaky-clean Officer Hinton.

      She pressed her forehead against the warmth of the windowpane and touched the gold slipper nestled between her breasts.

      Her heart felt like tissue paper, so how could she even contemplate being with another man when she still hemorrhaged from the only time she’d taken a chance on love? It didn’t seem right.

      Still, Adam Hinton was utterly tempting.

      Straight as an arrow, honest as a Boy Scout and clean as a… She couldn’t think what would be as clean. Not a whistle because spit got in it. Something about Adam made her want to smudge him with her fingerprints, and that baffled the hell out of her.

      Because she was still in love with John.

      THE COFFEE REMAINING in the pot at the police station looked as if it