was the alcohol or her sex-deprived body, but suddenly the idea of Lincoln placing his boots beneath her bed seemed like a good one. He was single. She was single. He was hot. She was hot. And getting hotter. When they reached the door, she stumbled again. Only this time, it was on purpose. When he went to catch her, she turned in his arms and hooked her arms around his neck.
He froze, and she could feel his gloriously hard body tense. She knew enough about men to know he wasn’t tensing with distaste, but rather with the same sexual spark of attraction she felt. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest and the steady thump of his heart. In the shadow of his cowboy hat, she could see the glittering heat of his brown eyes. She licked her lips in preparation for the kiss she knew was coming. But instead of kissing her, he took a step back.
“Give me your key so I can unlock your door,” he said in a low gravelly voice. Oh, yes, he was turned on. He was just fighting it. Too bad he was going to lose.
She smiled seductively as she let her hands wander over his broad shoulders and hard chest. “It’s not locked.”
“You don’t lock your door? You have absolutely no common sense at all, do you?”
“Nope. Which is why I’m going to do this.” She leaned in and kissed him.
His lips were the complete opposite of his body. They were extremely soft. Just not very welcoming. They remained tightly closed as she pressed hers against them. She slowly ran her tongue along the seam before taking a nip of his plump bottom lip and allowing it to slide along her top teeth. His hands tightened on her waist. For one brief second, his mouth opened in a taste of hot heat before he shoved her away.
“Enough,” he growled in a low, dangerous voice. He turned and opened her door, pushing it so hard it hit the wall. A tiny ball of white fur streaked out and attached itself to his leg.
“What the hell?” He stumbled back.
Dixie quickly detached Queenie from Lincoln’s leg and cuddled her close. “You’re just the best watch-kitty ever, aren’t you, precious?”
Lincoln scowled at Queenie. “Precious, my ass.”
The hilarity of her cat attacking the big ol’ Texas Ranger finally caught up with her and she started to giggle. She must’ve still been drunk because the giggles turned into a full-out laugh that she couldn’t seem to control. Her knees gave out and she sank down on the stoop right at Lincoln’s boots. The tiny rips in his jeans made her laugh even harder. In the midst of her laughter, she heard an exasperated sigh before he scooped both her and Queenie up in his arms and carried them into the apartment. He took her to her bedroom and deposited her on her bed. As she continued to giggle, he slipped off her Manolo Blahnik heels and tossed them to the floor.
He shook his head. “Riding a mechanical bull in high heels.” He spread the sheet from her mussed bed over her. “Goodnight, Deputy Meriwether.” He headed for the door.
She sobered. “Wait! Don’t you want to leave your boots under my bed?”
He didn’t even turn around. “Not a chance.”
Dixie was one of those rare people who didn’t get hangovers. She woke up after her night of partying at Cotton-Eyed Joe’s just like she had woken up every day for the last six months—with a smile on her face and the strong desire to best her daddy at his own game. She really thought the entire missing persons case was going to do it. If her daddy thought there was a murderer loose in Simple and it was her job to catch him, he was bound to give in.
The sound of a toilet flushing had her eyes flashing open. It had to have been in the apartment next to her. Except she had never heard Mr. Jenkins flush his toilet before. Or turn on the water. Or cuss in a sexy baritone voice.
Dixie sat up and stared at her closed door.
There was a Texas Ranger in her apartment. And the only reason she could come up with for Lincoln Hayes staying the night was that he was as interested in her as she was in him. He just hadn’t wanted to take advantage of a drunk woman. Which made perfect sense. It was obvious the man lived