Just Blaine Horney

She led him by the hand to a seat on the bed.

“You’re law enforcement,” she stated flatly and plopped down beside him.

“Now there’s something I’ve been accused of,” he said, disappointed, mainly with himself. He rubbed his unshaven face with his hands. “Texas Ranger.”

“Working undercover?”

“Wish I was under the covers—right now.”

She laughed, that squeaky titter softening his guilt, deepening his interest. “I could help you with that,” she said.

He fished his pocket for the cell phone and sighed in resignation. “I’m sure you could, and I’d let you, but I’ve got to return a call, sic a hound dog on a trail, and then I’ll have to leave.” The slim device vibrated in his hand. “See?” he said. “I’m wanted right now.”

“Outlaw,” she whispered.