Actually, he realized, he had seldom seen anything to equal this, either, and he didn’t exactly live like a monk. Being a small-town deputy complicated his love life. Gossip traveled through Mystic Creek faster than beer down a parched throat. Barney drove to nearby Crystal Falls when he got a hankering for female company. In civilian clothes, he could blend in with the crowd, have fun, and not worry about tarnishing his reputation. Or, God help him, having to endure scathing sidelong glances and a pungent comment or two from his mother if she ever heard of his exploits. Kate Sterling wasn’t very broad-minded when it came to sex outside of marriage.
The frigid night air had already chilled Barney’s hands, and as he tapped his knuckles against the wooden door, pain shot from the impact points to his elbow. The music upstairs continued to reverberate off the winter landscape. It wasn’t over-the-top loud, but in the quiet of Mystic Creek on a weeknight, every note seemed invasive. Paul definitely had a legitimate noise complaint. Barney decided that he was down to his last resort, the master key.
He drew the large ring from his belt and fanned the pieces of metal. An instant later, he was inside the store. He used his flashlight to avoid tripping over obstacles. When he reached the old wooden stairs, he tromped up the risers, hoping Ms. Brown might finally hear him. He didn’t want to scare the woman half to death.
No such luck. Now, instead of fried chicken, he smelled tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, which once again spurred his memory of his canceled date with warm cream horns. It was a curse to have such a sensitive nose. His whole family teased him about his overdeveloped smeller, saying he could detect food at five hundred feet. Once on the creaky landing, he saw a glimmer of gold seeping out beneath the door. He hoped the sudden noise wouldn’t frighten Ms. Brown when he knocked. Assuming she heard him at all, that is.
• • •
Taffeta was in the middle of a waking dream starring the handsome Mystic Creek deputy, Barney Sterling, as her male lead and dance partner. As silly as it was when she analyzed it, she had developed a huge crush on him the instant she first saw him. But it was an attraction she’d never act on. A relationship with a man, no matter how good-looking, wasn’t on her present agenda.
She jumped with a start when a loud knock jolted her back to reality. She clamped a hand over her heart. No way could she answer the door looking like this. It would blow her cover. And who was it, anyway, a polite burglar? Trying to twist her hair back into a knot and feeling as if she’d grown ten extra fingers, she started toward her bedroom to get her robe. Then she switched directions and hurried into the kitchen to find a skillet she could use to defend herself. Her shop was locked up tight. Whoever stood on her landing must have broken in.
Pulse pounding, she approached the door with the frying pan held high. “Who is it?” she called shakily.
A deep, masculine voice replied, “Deputy Sterling.”
Taffeta blinked. Once. Twice. Coincidences like this didn’t happen in real life. “Who?” she asked again.
“Ma’am, can you please turn your music down and open the door?”
It was him. She recognized the voice, an unforgettable, honeyed baritone that she’d heard only a few times. Taffeta ran over to the stereo and hit the OFF button. Panic buffeted her. Oh God. She was wearing makeup and very little else, only a dark blue satin chemise that ended well above her knees. Letting go of the skillet for a second, she twisted her hair into a tighter knot at the back of her head. The chain guard on the door was engaged. She could look out at him through the crack without him seeing anything but her face. Just in case it wasn’t Barney Sterling, she snatched up the skillet. If whoever it was tried to shoulder his way in, she’d bean him.
Giving the knob a twist, she opened the door and angled her body to peer out. The beam of a flashlight got her right in the eyes, and for a second, she went as blind as Helen Keller.
“Oops, sorry,” he said. “It’s pitch-dark out here.”
Blinking away big white spots, Taffeta saw the beam go out, which left him standing in blackness except for the elongated rectangle of illumination coming from her apartment. She glimpsed a brown bomber jacket, a V of khaki shirt, part of a star-shaped badge, and a holstered gun riding his hip. Definitely it was the deputy. Only what had she done to bring a cop to her door? A shudder ripped through her body. According to the law, she’d already done plenty.
“Can you open up, Ms. Brown, and turn on the landing light so you can see me properly?”
Taffeta was far more concerned about him seeing her. “No! I’m not dressed for company.”
“Can you grab a robe?”
Taffeta had a fleece robe in the bedroom, but in order to fetch it she’d have to cross the living area where he’d be able to see her. “Uh . . . no. Well, only if you turn your head.”
She thought she heard him chuckle. “No problem.”
She sprinted to the bedroom door, dived into the room, and pulled on her robe, tying the sash before she emerged. Then, trying her best to look calm and collected, she retraced her steps. Why is he here? Did he run a background check on me?
She disengaged the chain and opened the door for him. Then she flipped on the landing light. Barney Sterling had been in her shop three times and each occasion was indelibly etched into her gray matter. He had come once to get vitamins for his mom, another time to buy ibuprofen for himself, and during the last visit, he’d purchased protein shake powder. Watching him stride up and down the aisles had given her a pleasant buzz, but being the sole focus of his attention now was downright unnerving, especially in a bathrobe. He was tall and slender, with shoulders as wide as a gladiator’s.
His chiseled face, burnished by the sun, reminded her of carved and seasoned oak. He had tawny hair, mostly covered by his Stetson, but a shank swept over his forehead to gleam beneath the brim. His hazel eyes had gold flecks in them, making them shimmer like sun-shot tequila. No wonder she fantasized about dancing with him—and more sometimes. It got her through the long, lonely nights when she missed her little girl so badly that she ached.
She found the presence of mind to ask, “What do you want? Have I done something wrong?”
He inclined his head at her stereo. “Your music was loud. Paul Kutz, across the street, called in a complaint.”
Relief flooded through Taffeta. Nothing serious. He still knew very little about her. As long as he didn’t recognize her from the pictures that had been splashed all over the front pages of every newspaper in the state nearly two years ago, she was home free. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I had the volume up that far.”
His firm lips tipped into a grin that showed off his strong white teeth. “Well, it was loud, but not really that loud. I think Mr. Kutz—or possibly his roommate, Ray Burke—was more disturbed by your dance performance. With the light behind you, your silhouette showed through the curtains.”
Silhouette? Taffeta stared at him, her cheeks on fire with embarrassment. If Paul Kutz had seen her dancing, then so had Deputy Sterling. She wasn’t an exhibitionist, and making a public spectacle of herself was humiliating. About a month ago, the relentless loneliness of her life had gotten to her, and she’d decided to allow herself one night a week to wear makeup, shake her hair loose from its clip, and dress sexy. She saw no harm in doing that in the privacy of her own apartment. Only apparently it wasn’t all that private.
Just then the hastily secured knot in her hair came loose, and her heavy tresses spilled down over her shoulders. Crap. Since moving to Mystic Creek and starting her business, she had tried so hard never to draw attention to herself. Now she’d entertained two old men across the street and this lawman with a dirty dancing performance. What must he think? Hopefully he’d just pegged her as being a little nuts.
He glanced at the skillet that she’d dropped on the mauve carpet. His eyebrow quirked. “Were you planning to hit me with that?” Another grin touched h
is mouth, and he didn’t wait for her answer. “I’m glad I knocked.”
“My shop was locked. I thought you might be a polite burglar.”
“I pounded on the street door and leaned on the buzzer.”
“The buzzer is broken.”
“Oh. Well, anyway, you didn’t hear me, so I used the master key to get inside.”
“Master key?”
“A key that fits all the shop doors along East and West Main,” he expounded. “In emergencies, we can use it to get inside.”
Until now, Taffeta had felt safe behind her locked doors. It was unsettling to know that the deputies of Mystic Creek could get in whenever they wanted. She hugged her waist before forcing herself to formulate a response.
“In the future, I’ll keep my music turned down,” she assured him. “And I’ll also order a window blind for under my curtains.”
“Good idea.” He flipped his flashlight back on but kept it directed at the floor this time. “Have a great evening. I’ll lock the shop door as I leave. There’s no need for you to follow me down.”
Taffeta grasped the doorknob but remained in the opening to watch him descend the stairs. For such a large, muscular man, he moved with catlike grace. When she heard the shop door close behind him, she retreated into her apartment and leaned her back against the wall. She wished that he—oh, she didn’t know what she wished. Barney Sterling had made a fabulous imaginary boyfriend. In her fantasies, he said what she wanted to hear and made all the right moves. But in the flesh, he was a whole different kettle of fish. Her weekly dance night was over. She’d had enough of Barney Sterling to last her for another month, possibly even longer.
She looked down at her discarded frying pan, thankful that she hadn’t brained him with it. She was already on probation. If she added assaulting a police officer to her record, she’d be in big trouble.
Again.
• • •
As Barney walked back across the street to speak with Paul Kutz and hopefully settle him down, he kept glancing over his shoulder at Taffeta’s window. She’d dimmed her lights, and her shadow had vanished. Hot damn. The drab gray mouse could transform herself into one of the most striking women he’d ever clapped eyes on. He remembered something his mother had once said about still waters.
Barney’s chat with Pop and Ray Burke started off badly.
“Ms. Brown has turned her stereo down,” Barney said. “You fellows should have no trouble sleeping now.”
“Come again?” Ray inclined his ear toward Barney. Rumor had it that he and Paul had once been college buddies, and after losing his spouse, Ray had moved here to help Paul in the bookstore. “I’m a little hard of hearing.”
“He’s deaf, son,” Paul inserted, clearly suffering from the same complaint himself, since he hadn’t heard Ray just explain that.
Barney stifled a sigh, increased his volume, and repeated himself, thinking that the two old men looked like mismatched bookends, Paul tall and thin, Ray short and plump.
“What do you mean, she turned me down?” Ray asked. “I barely know the woman, and I sure as sand never asked her to sleep with me.” The old boy actually winked at Barney. “She interested, young fella?”
By the time Barney got back to the department truck, he was stifling laughter. Those old guys probably hadn’t had this much excitement in ages. Removing his Stetson, Barney slid behind the steering wheel and closed the driver door. Ah well, maybe it will put a bounce back in their steps for the next few days.
Doreen’s energetic masticating crackled over the airway when Barney called in to report back. “What happened?” she asked
Staring through the windshield at Ms. Brown’s now dark window, Barney shook his head, still feeling incredulous. “The music was a little loud, but it definitely wasn’t enough to vibrate walls or wake snakes in five counties. The accused was very cooperative about rectifying the situation and apologized. I got the complainants settled down. Now I’m heading back out to cruise the roads.”
“That’ll be exciting with all the hardened criminals out there bent on committing murder and mayhem. You might even find a homicidal squirrel.”
Barney decided that Doreen might start to grow on him in time. At least she had a sense of humor, offbeat though it might be. “I’ll call in for backup if I encounter anything I can’t handle alone.”
She replied, “Be safe, Matt.”
Barney frowned. Who was Matt? Oh yeah, Matt Dillon in Gunsmoke. Kitty, the saloon owner, used to say that to him before he left on a dangerous mission. “I’ve got your number now, Doreen. You’re an old television series buff.”
She laughed. “Yep. Be safe, cowboy.”
“Ten-four clear,” Barney said with a smile.
When the radio went silent, he resumed his study of Ms. Brown’s window while he wolfed down the cold cream horns. He couldn’t help wondering about the secret life of the quiet shopkeeper. During the day, she was so colorless and unassuming. It just didn’t tabulate for him that a gal would hide all those sexy curves under bulky sweaters and loose slacks. The women he knew wanted to show them off, not pretend they didn’t exist.
What else was she hiding, and why?
Barney shoved the last half of a congealed cream horn into his mouth and chewed vigorously. Turn loose of it, he admonished himself. The lawman in him was coming out, and he was smelling trouble where there wasn’t any. What people did behind closed doors was none of his business as long as it harmed no one else. Granted, Taffeta might have caused one of those old men to have a heart attack, but that hadn’t happened. It was time for him to get on with his shift.
Barney pulled away from the curb and drove west. He passed an oncoming Cadillac that went so slow the driver could have jumped out and had time to watch the car slide off the road. Must be slick. He decided to drive out to Seven Curves Road. It was a hot spot for wrecks when the asphalt got icy. As a teenager, Barney had wrapped his first pickup around a tree out that way. Those turns were so sharp a car could kiss its own back bumper as it rounded a curve.
An image of Taffeta Brown’s mouth, shimmery with kissable gloss, flitted through his mind while he drove. She intrigued him. She was new to Mystic Creek and had no family here so far as he knew. That meant he could ask her out without any backlash.
Only something told Barney that she might be a lot more complicated than she seemed.
Chapter Two
Two hours before his shift began the next day, Barney drove toward town, going over his mental to-do list. He needed feed for his hens, a new sprinkler and some three-inch PVC for his irrigation system, and some vitamins for his cow, which he hoped was pregnant. Intending to get a cup of java and then stop at the feedstore, he was surprised to find his truck heading for Healthful Possibilities instead. He was so curious to learn whether Ms. Taffeta Brown had undergone a permanent transformation last night—for the better, in his opinion—that he even postponed his trip to the local coffee kiosk. What would he find? Miss Mousy and Meek, or a woman who radiated sex appeal?
The instant he stepped through the doorway of the shop, he had his answer. The only colorful thing about Ms. Brown, who stood behind the cash register, was the bright red blush that whipped into her cheeks when she saw him. Her overlarge shirt, in a color that reminded him of the brown baby poop he’d seen in his nephew Jeremiah’s diaper, completely hid the lush curves he now knew lurked beneath it. Her hair, still damp from the shower, was pulled back from her oval face and caught in one of those curly-toothed clips that a lot of women wore before or after exercising. Only Taffeta wasn’t in workout mode.
The faint, yeasty scent of toasted bread drifted on the air. He pictured her descending the stairs from her flat, balancing breakfast-to-go in one hand. Barney stepped into the herbal supplement aisle, pretending that he was looking for something. She hesitated, but when he didn’t immediately make a selection, s
he approached him. Stopping more than an arm’s length away, she asked, “Can I help you find something?”
Knowing that he shouldn’t tease her but unable to resist the urge, he glanced up. “Do you carry anything that might help an old fellow with heart palpitations?”
She took the bait and came to join him in the aisle. That gave him a look at the rest of her. Faded blue jeans completed the picture the shirt had hinted at. They were baggy enough that they were swimming on her. An expression of concern had replaced the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. That told him she had a caring heart. He liked the dark blue of her eyes. Black outlined the irises, enhancing their color.
“Has he seen a physician?” she asked. “That would be my first recommendation. If he hasn’t, he should do that right away. Heart problems are nothing to fool around with.”
“He hasn’t had time,” Barney replied. He noted that the top of her head reached to just above his shoulder, making her about five foot seven. That was tallish for a woman, but she still seemed petite next to him. “The irregular heartbeat didn’t start until last night.”
Her gaze sharpened on his, and a flare of anger sparkled in her eyes as she realized that he was referring to either Paul Kutz or his roommate, who had witnessed her seductive dance performance. Quick-witted, he decided. He felt almost disappointed that she’d caught on so fast. Then again, maybe he’d stuck his foot in his mouth a lot further than he had intended. The look she gave him wasn’t hostile, exactly, but it wasn’t friendly, either.
Her face went pink again, but her tone was controlled. A little too controlled. He’d ticked her off, all right. “I assured you that I’ll keep the volume on my stereo down, and I’ve already ordered a window blind to block the light at night.” Fire still lingered in her eyes. “Now, Deputy Sterling, if you’re quite finished having me on, is there anything legitimate that I can help you with?”