The Sheriff. Angi Morgan

deputy hadn’t offered to leave the room while she changed. Ruined and filthy clothes would just have to do. She’d feel too open and exposed in front of Acting Sheriff Pete Morrison.

      It was hardly fair to have such an attractive lawman interrogating her. It made her mind wander to forbidden topics, so it was much safer to remain completely covered.

      “How tall are you?” he asked, flipping another page in his notebook.

      “Five-nine. How could that be important?” As tall as she was, she’d have to tiptoe to kiss him. What was wrong with her thinking? Had she hit her head a little too hard? Of course she had. Hello. Concussion!

      “Just being thorough.”

      She watched him sort of hide a grin, draw his brows together in concentration and drop his gaze to her chest. So he’d noticed the pink bra? No worries. Why? Because he’s extremely cute, that’s why.

      “You’re certain you didn’t hear anything? The man who ‘came from the desert,’ as you put it, he didn’t say anything?” he asked.

      “I don’t think so. By the way, how is that guy doing? Is he still in surgery? I keep asking, but no one seems to know anything about him. This is the only hospital, right?”

      The nurse looked confused when Andrea had asked earlier. This time she turned to the sheriff, who shook his head, then shrugged. Everyone coming into the room had looked to the young sheriff for permission to speak and been denied.

      “Can you tell us who your friend is?” he asked, flashing bright blue eyes her direction.

      “Check your notes, Sheriff Morrison. I’m certain I told you he wasn’t my friend. That was sometime between having my temperature taken and my wrist x-rayed.”

      “Yes, ma’am, you did say that.” The sheriff looked at his notes and flipped to the previous page. “No need to call me Sheriff. Pete will do.”

      “Guess there’s nothing wrong with her memory, Pete,” the nurse said as she continued to wrap Andrea’s left hand, pausing several times to smile at the hunky man.

      Andrea had regained consciousness in the emergency room with a horrible smell wafting under her nose. It wasn’t her first time for smelling salts. She’d gotten rammed a couple of times as a shortstop on the softball field in college. She could just imagine what her mother would say when she told her parents about this sprain. Peggy Allen would be glad her daughter was uninjured and it was simply a miracle how her middle daughter had managed to avoid a car accident until the ripe old age of twenty-six.

      Not a miracle to her father, who had taught her how to drive like a naval aviator late for a launch at NASA. That was a phone call she dreaded. At least it could wait until morning. No sense worrying her parents tonight.

      “How’s that, Miss Allen?” the nurse asked, securing the last bit of elastic bandage around her wrist. Miraculously—to use her mother’s word—the slight ache was the only pain she experienced. Other than a headache from the concussion.

      “Great. Thanks. Can I go now?”

      “I just need to get the doctor’s signature and I can get your discharge papers.” The nurse put her supplies away, smiled prettily again at the annoying officer. “See you, Pete.”

      “What’s your hurry?” the good-looking man asked as she left.

      At first she thought he was flirting with the nurse. He dipped his dimpled chin, raised his eyebrows, expectantly waiting...

      “Oh, you mean me? I’m not overly fond of hospitals.” Oh, Lordy, he really had a dimpled chin. She was a sucker for that little cleft under rugged, nice lips. Whoa.

      How could his straight brows rise even higher? It was as if getting asked a question made him feel guilty for not answering, or he assumed she’d seen a lot of hospitals. Either way, she immediately regretted giving the officer any insight into her character. “The answer to your question, Sheriff, is no. I haven’t escaped from a loony bin. I told you, I’m a PhD candidate working at the McDonald Observatory.”

      “I didn’t say a word.”

      “Your face says enough without your lips moving.” She covered her mouth with her good hand to make herself shut up. The annoying man just laughed and grinned even bigger. “What are you waiting on, anyway? I told you I can phone and get a ride home. The student I was covering for is already in Alpine. Somewhere.”

      He pulled a cell from his pocket. “Use mine.”

      She held her hand out, wincing at the soreness already setting into her muscles. It didn’t matter, she had no idea what Sharon’s number was without recovering her cell from the Viewing Area.

      “I don’t know her number.”

      She hated to think what a cab ride to the north side of Fort Davis would cost. If they even had cabs in Alpine, Texas, that traveled the fifty miles or so outside the city. She’d probably have to bribe the driver by paying him double.

      “We tried to locate the owner of the car, but the listing is in Austin.”

      “I did mention she’s a student.”

      He stood straighter, slipping the cell back in his chest pocket. “To answer your question, I’m still here because I need your official statement and I thought you might need a ride back to wherever you’re staying in Fort Davis.”

      “Oh. Thanks. That’s very considerate of you. I’m at the observatory, actually. I guess you do things differently here.”

      “Spent a lot of time with the law back home?”

      She just stared at him. The man was actually being extremely nice. And seemed to be charming. Part of his expressive nature, she surmised.

      “We’d never get along.” She clamped her hand over her mouth again.

      “I don’t know about that. I like a woman who speaks her mind. Kinda refreshing.”

      “They gave me a pain pill. It must have gone straight to my mouth.”

      He nodded and covered a grin by rubbing long fingers over his lips. “I was here before the pain pill. You weren’t exactly holding back then, either.”

      For some reason she wanted to push her hands through his slightly mussed hair and see the sandy waviness up close. Wow. What had the doctors given her to make her think like this? She had to remain professional.

      “Do you think I did something wrong, Sheriff?”

      “Miss Allen—”

      “Please, my name’s Andrea.” She checked out her torn black jeans and ragged undershirt still stained with blood, not feeling like a Miss anything.

      “Andrea. We’ve done some checking.”

      “Don’t tell me, there weren’t any planes or helicopters flying in that area. So I actually saw a UFO.” She was trying to be cutesy or sarcastic or just funny. A giggle even escaped, but the expression on the officer’s face didn’t indicate that he was laughing with her. In fact, he looked dead serious. “I’m joking, you know.”

      “You did mention that aliens were chasing you.”

      “I was referring to illegal immigrants. Or maybe I was just delirious from being knocked out cold. I never once seriously thought I was being chased by an extraterrestrial, something foreign to this modern age of flying machines. I study the stars. I don’t live in them.” Exhausted, she wanted to lie back on the examining table and sleep. “I’m here working on my last dissertation.”

      The room tilted. Or maybe she did. It was hard to tell. She was conscious of falling, knew it was about to happen before it did. The heaviness of her arms prevented her from stopping herself. She didn’t hit the floor.

      Instead, a firm grip kept her in place, then lowered her to the pillow.

      He