Bare Essentials: Naughty, But Nice. Leslie Kelly

night.

      “Heard you didn’t even kiss Sheila good night after your date,” she said. “I’ll have you know I went to a lot of trouble to set that up. You’ve got to kiss ’em, Tag, or you’re going to ruin your bad-boy rep.”

      He groaned and rolled over. “God, I hope so.”

      “I just want you happy. Like I am.”

      She was getting married next month to one of his deputies, which was a good thing. But now she wanted him as almost married as she was. Sighing would do no good. Neither would ignoring her—she was more ruthless than a pit bull terrier. “If it’s any of your business, which it’s not, I didn’t kiss Sheila because it wasn’t a date. I didn’t even want to go in the first place—” Why was he bothering? She wouldn’t listen. Rubbing his eyes, he stared at the ceiling. “Why are you calling?”

      “Know why you’re so grumpy? You need to get laid once in a while. Look—” As if departing a state secret, she lowered her voice. “Sex is a really great stress reliever. I’d give you some to remind you, just as a favor, mind you, but I’m a committed woman now.”

      Tag wished he was deep asleep. “Tell me you’re not calling me from the dispatch phone to say this to me.”

      “Someone has to, Tag, honey.”

      “I’m going back to sleep now.”

      “You can’t.”

      “Why not?” He heard the rustling of papers as Annie shifted things on her desk. He pictured the mess—the stacks, the un-filed reports, the mugs of coffee and chocolate candy wrappers strewn over everything—and got all the more tense. “Look at the computer screen in front of you,” he instructed. “Read me your last call.”

      “Oh, yeah!” She laughed. “Can’t believe I forgot there for a moment. There’s a stranger downtown, driving some sort of hot rod, causing trouble. We’ve received calls on and off all day, complaining about the loud music and reckless driving.”

      He opened his mouth to ask what had taken her so long to say so, but bit back the comment because it wouldn’t do him any good. Back on duty whether he liked it or not, he rubbed his gritty, tired eyes and grabbed for his pants. “Theft? Injuries?”

      “Nope, nothing like that. Just the music and speeding.”

      “Speeding?” He’d given up sleep for speeding? “Why didn’t…hell, who’s on duty right now…Tim? Why didn’t he take care of this earlier if it’s been a problem all day?”

      “Seems Tim stopped off at his momma’s for some pie after lunch and got sick. Food poisoning. He’s been bowing to the porcelain god ever since. Poor guy, bad things like that don’t usually happen here in Pleasantville.”

      Since he’d had plenty of bad things happen to him right here in this town, the least of which was caving in and hiring his ex on dispatch, Tag just rolled his eyes. “If nothing really bad could happen, why can’t I manage a night with some sleep in it?”

      “Because we all love your sweet demeanor too much. Now get your ass up. Oh, and careful out there, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

      Which was damn little and they both knew it. “Yeah, thanks,” he muttered, looking for more clothes. He jammed on his boots, yanked on his uniform shirt and grabbed his badge.

      With one last fond look toward his big, rumpled, very comfortable bed, he shook his head and left.

      Halfway to downtown Pleasantville, his radio squawked. “Got the license plate and make for ya,” Annie said, and rattled it off.

      “Sunshine-yellow Porsche.” Tag shook his head at the idiotic tourist who’d probably taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in Pleasantville. “Shouldn’t be hard to find. Owner’s name?”

      “Let’s see, it’s here somewhere…Cassie Tremaine Montgomery.”

      Not a tourist. Not a wayward traveler lost by accident. Not by a long shot.

      Cassie Tremaine Montgomery.

      She’d belonged here once. Though now, as a famous lingerie model, she was as far from Pleasantville as one could get.

      He might not have ever met her personally since he’d been several years ahead of her in school, but her reputation preceded her. A reputation she’d gotten—according to legend—by using men just like her mother.

      If he remembered correctly, and he was certain he did, Cassie had been tough, unreachable, attitude-ridden and…hot. Very hot.

      And she’d been practically run out of town after her high school graduation by rumors. They’d said she was pregnant, on drugs, a thief. You name it, someone in town had claimed she’d done it. Hell, even his loser cousin Biff had plenty of wild stories, though Tag had no idea how much of it was true given Biff’s tendency toward exaggeration. He’d never expended any energy thinking about it.

      But now he was sheriff and she was back, stirring up trouble. Seemed he’d need to think about her plenty.

      He saw her immediately, speeding down Magnolia Avenue in her racy car, with a matching racy attitude written all over her. Blond hair whipping behind her, her fingers tapping in beat to the music she had blaring.

      Knowing only that things were about to get interesting, Tag turned his cruiser around and went after her.

      * * *

      GET WHAT YOU CAN, honey. Get what you can and get out.

      Cassie Tremaine Montgomery smiled grimly as she remembered her mother’s advice on life and took Magnolia Avenue at a slightly elevated speed than was strictly allowed by law. She couldn’t help it, her car seemed to have the same attitude about being in this town as she did.

      In other words, neither of them liked it.

      As she drove downtown throughout the day, running errands, people stopped, stared. Pointed.

      Logically, she knew it was the car. But the place had slammed her into the past. People recognized her. People remembered her.

      Had she thought they wouldn’t? Hadn’t Kate warned her after she had been back in town recently to close up her mother’s house? Good old Pea-ville.

      There was Mrs. McIntyre coming out of the Tea Room. The Town Gossip hadn’t changed; she still wore her hair in a bun wrapped so tight her eyes narrowed, and that infamous scowl. She’d maliciously talked about Cassie and Flo on a daily basis.

      But that was a lifetime ago. To prove it, Cassie waved.

      Mrs. McIntyre shook her finger at her and turned to a blue-haired old biddy next to her. That woman shook her finger at Cassie, too.

      Well. Welcome home. Cassie squashed the urge to show them a finger of her own. She couldn’t help it, this place brought out the worst in her.

      But she wasn’t here to reminisce and socialize. God, no. If left up to her, she’d have never come back. There was nothing for her here, nothing.

      Kate was gone. She’d marched out of town hand in hand with Cassie all those years ago, each determined to make something of themselves.

      Kate had done spectacularly in Chicago, with her specialty ladies’ shop, Bare Essentials.

      Some would say so had Cassie. But that she could afford to buy and sell this sorry-ass town was little satisfaction when just driving through made her feel young and stupid all over again. Two things she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

      Everyone in Pleasantville had assumed she’d grow up the same as the trouble-loving Flo. Destiny, they’d said. Can’t fight it.

      And if you counted going off to New York and becoming one of the world’s most well-known lingerie models following her destiny, well then, that’s what Cassie had done.

      Now she was back. Not by choice, mind you. Oh,