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initial every clause of the contract. He was going to officially sign the contract tonight, at the gala, and wanted to be certain he was signing the same contract that he had approved.”
    Tanner nodded. “Sounds like him.”
    “Anyway,” she said, “Tuesday night was his poker game and he hated being late. With Kimberli, late is a religion. I wanted her to wait until I got back from the retreat so I could handle the whole thing, but she wanted to nail down every detail as soon as possible.”
    “Go on.”
    She looked at Tanner and saw nothing but the moonlight drawing dark planes and angles from his face. “My guess is Kimberli was late as usual, and just grabbed the contract from Legal without reading it over herself.”
    “Is that what she said?”
    Shaye shrugged. “It’s what she does—rush from one thing to another, leaving a scatter of papers. She’s goal-oriented rather than detail-oriented. The details are left to the rest of the staff.”
    Tanner’s long fingers did a single, rippling tattoo against his thigh. “When you usually saw Lorne, was he wearing work boots and an old Stetson?”
    “Unless he was in town. Then he wore the boots I found him in. And he was in town clothes, too.” She frowned, remembering. At the time all she had cared about was the scavengers. “All these questions aren’t giving me a good feeling.”
    “Hey, I’m a cop,” he said absently, watching moonlight glide over Shaye’s smooth skin. “We do a lot of questions. Second nature.”
    “Try the sheriff. He knows more than I do.”
    “I will, and I doubt it.”
    Moonlight and silence and a slight breeze ruffling the water.
    “One more question,” he said finally. “Are you seeing anyone?”
    Shaye blinked. “What?”
    “Serious dating, live-in lover, that sort of thing. Seeing someone.”
    “If I was, I wouldn’t be here. Are you stepping out on someone?”
    “No.” He tossed the bag of trash into the backseat. “I’ll take you back to your car and follow you home to make sure you get there.”
    “Why would you—”
    “It’s a cop thing,” he said. “We’re the last of the real gentlemen.” He turned the car key and flipped on the headlights. The engine made a snarky sound, balked, then started. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine. Earlier, if you’re the dawn type.”
    “I’ll meet you at nine, but I can get myself home just fine.”
    Even though my gas gauge isn’t trustworthy.
    “I’m sure you can. I’m also sure not going to leave a woman alone in a vehicle as old as the wreck you drive.”
    She started to argue, then shrugged. “You’re not coming inside with me.”
    He nodded.
    “Why will you pick me up at nine?” she asked.
    “We’re having breakfast and you’re working hard to talk me into giving the ranch to the Conservancy, remember?”
    “Hey, a girl has to eat, right?” she said neutrally.
    “We need to talk about your enthusiasm.”
    She looked sideways at him, focusing on his mouth, imagining the smooth, resilient heat of his lips and the sensual textures of tongue and teeth.
    “Tomorrow,” she said.
    And she wondered where that low, sexy voice had come from. Obviously Tanner had a bad influence on her.
    Or a good one.
    Maybe.
    She had all night to decide.

Eight
     
    S haye still hadn’t decided whether Tanner was good or bad for her when the doorbell to her condo chimed happily. She put down the brush she had been running through her hair and looked at her sturdy, all-weather watch. Twenty minutes before nine.
    The peephole assured her that it was Tanner rather than a salesman. She opened the door to her second-floor condo.
    “You’re early,” she said.
    In the daylight, his eyes were a deep, deep blue. He was looking at her from head to toe and back again.
    As far as Shaye was concerned, there was no reason for the utterly male appraisal. She was wearing faded jeans, a plain khaki-colored sweater, and shoes that could take sidewalks or trails. No