Lawless. Diana Palmer

and the small goatee turned up at both sides and his dark eyes twinkled in a swarthy, scarred face.

      “Suit yourself. Lead me to a tree,” he replied.

      She grinned. It changed her face, made it radiant. She rubbed her dirty right hand on her equally dirty jeans and extended it. “Hi! I’m Christabel Gaines. Everybody calls me Crissy except Judd.”

      He shook the hand. “What does Judd call you?” he asked.

      “Christabel,” she said on a sigh. “No imagination, and he hasn’t got a sense of humor. If you don’t want to arrest me, why are you here? We’re not even in your jurisdiction. The city limits sign is four miles thataway.” She pointed.

      He chuckled. “Actually, I’m looking for Judd. He left a message for me. I understand there’s a movie company coming out here to film and they need on-site security from some of my off-duty officers. I’d volunteer,” he added, “but they’d worry me to death trying to get me to play the lead in their movie. I’m good-looking, in case you haven’t noticed,” he added with a wicked grin.

      It took her a minute to get it, then she burst out laughing.

      “Are you going to be in it?” he persisted with a grin.

      She nodded. “I’m going to play a lilac bush next to the porch steps. I understand the makeup will take all day.”

      He chuckled. She was a real charmer, and pretty to boot. He liked her personality. It had been a long time since a woman had appealed to him so much at a first meeting.

      “I’m Cash Grier, the assistant police chief,” he introduced himself. “I guess you figured that out already. What gave me away—the patrol car?”

      “It does stand out,” she remarked. “Very nice.”

      “We like to think we have the sexiest patrol cars in Texas,” he agreed. “I look good in a police car,” he added.

      Her dark eyes gazed up into his. “Let’s see.”

      “Oh, no,” he replied. “It’s too much for some women. We’ll have to work up to letting you see me in the car.” He lifted both eyebrows and his eyes twinkled. “I look pretty good over a cup of coffee, too.”

      It was a hint, and she took it. “Okay. Let’s see.”

      Before they got into the house, the ranch truck pulled up with Maude in it. She got out and pulled a sack of groceries out from beside her. Her green eyes went from the patrol car to the tall uniformed man. She turned to Christabel and glared. “Well, what have you done now?”

      “This is Cash Grier, our new assistant police chief. He says he looks good over a cup of coffee,” she told Maude. “I’m going to let him prove it.”

      She gave Grier a speaking look. “I’ve heard about you. They say you play with rattlesnakes and send wolves running.”

      “Oh, I do,” Grier assured her genially. “I like a spoon to stick up in my coffee,” he added.

      “Then you’ll be right at home, here. That’s how Crissy makes it.”

      “Here,” he said, taking the burden out of her arms with a flair. “Women’s lib be damned, no dainty little woman should have to carry heavy packages up steps.”

      Maude caught her breath and put a hand to her heart. “Chivalry lives!” she exclaimed.

      He leaned down. “Chivalry is my middle name,” he informed her. “And I will do almost anything for a slice of pie. I have no pride.”

      Maude chuckled, along with Crissy. “We have a nice pie left over from yesterday, if Judd didn’t eat it all. He’s a fanatic on the subject of apple pie.”

      “There’s some left, because I made two,” Crissy told Maude. “Come along, Mr. Assistant Police Chief, and I’ll feed you.”

      Grier stood aside to let Maude go first. “Beauty before titles,” he said with a grin. “And please don’t tell my superior that I’m susceptible to bribes.”

      “Chet Blake is, too,” Maude informed him. “I hear he’s your cousin.”

      He sighed as he followed the women into the house. “Nepotism rears its ugly head,” he agreed. “But he was desperate, and so was I.”

      “Why?” Crissy asked curiously.

      “Don’t be rude,” Maude chided. “He’s barely got in the house. Give him some coffee and pie. Then grill him!” she added with a chuckle.

      Grier had two slices of pie, actually, and two cups of coffee. “You’re a good cook,” he told Crissy while he sipped at his second cup.

      “I learned early,” she replied, twirling her cup around under her hands. “My mother was an invalid until her death. I learned to cook when I was ten.”

      He sensed a history there, and he wondered about her relationship with Judd Dunn. He’d heard rumors of all sorts about the odd couple who shared the D bar G Ranch.

      She looked up, noting the curious look in his dark eyes. “You’re curious about us, aren’t you?” she asked. “Judd’s uncle and my father were partners in this ranch for ten years. Circumstances,” she said, boiling down the tragedy of her life into one word, “left us with a half interest each. I’m good with computers and math, so I do most of the bookkeeping. Judd is good with livestock, so he takes care of buying and selling and logistics.”

      “What happens if one of you gets married?”

      “Oh, but we already...” She stopped dead. Her eyes held apprehension and self-condemnation in equal parts.

      He glanced at her left hand with the man’s signet ring cut down to fit her finger. His eyes lifted back to hers. There was keen intelligence in them. “I never tell what I know,” he told her. “Governments would topple.” He grinned.

      She smiled back at him. “You don’t know anything,” she informed him deliberately.

      His gaze was speculative. “Is it real, or just on paper?”

      “I was sixteen at the time,” she replied. “It’s just on paper. He...doesn’t feel like that.”

      His eyebrows lifted. “But, you do?”

      She averted her gaze. “What I feel doesn’t matter. He saved more than the ranch. He saved me. And that’s all I’m going to tell you,” she added when he stared at her. “In November I turn twenty-one and I’m a free woman.”

      He pursed his lips and studied her face. “I’m thirty-eight. Years too old for you...” His voice trailed off, like a question.

      It had never occurred to her that a man would find her attractive. Judd treated her like a sore foot. Maude ordered her around. Boys at school were interested in the pretty, feminine girls who flirted. Crissy was friendly but she didn’t flirt or dress suggestively. In fact, she was much more at home around horses and cattle and the cowboys she’d known most of her life. She was shy with most men.

      She flushed. “I...I...don’t interest men,” she blurted out.

      He put his coffee cup down slowly. “Excuse me?”

      “Do you want some more coffee?” she asked, flustered.

      He was fascinated. The women who filed through his life had been sophisticated, as worldly as he was, chic and urbane and sensuous. They thought nothing of coming on to him with all sorts of physical and verbal sensuality. This woman was untouched, uncorrupted. She had a freshness, a vibrancy, that made him wish he was young again, that he’d never had the experiences that had turned him bitter and cold inside. She was like a jonquil blooming in the snow, a stubborn flash of optimism in a cynical cold landscape.

      He frowned, studying her.

      The flush grew worse. “You’re