Naughty, But Nice

There was no one around. Not that anyone would have stood up for her if there had been. No doubt the people in the cars driving by figured she’d done something to warrant the sheriff pulling her over. Chin high, Cassie got out of the car. Casually leaned back against it. Tossed her head. Played cool as a cucumber. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

“What can you do for me?” He stepped close. So close she could see the lights from his squad car dancing in his eyes. Smell his breath. Feel his hips brush hers. She wanted to cringe back, wanted to panic, but no way in hell was anyone in this goddamned town ever going to see her panic.

“What you can do for me, Cassie, is rather complicated, though being Flo’s daughter…”

“You…know Flo?”

“Intimately.”

He was aroused. And he had been with her mother. Odd how that felt like such a betrayal. But she was very careful not to react because it was one thing to mess with a stupid eighteen-year-old punk driving his brand-new car. It was another thing entirely to mess with a fully grown, aroused man with a badge. Fear threatened to paralyze her but she tossed her hair back again. “You must have mistaken me for my mother then.”

“I don’t make mistakes.” He lifted a hand.

It hovered in the air between them for a long moment, while Cassie held her breath. When she released it, his fingers danced along the very tops of her breasts, which were pushed up and out by her dress. His breathing changed then, quickened, and she realized he was no different from his nephew at all. The knowledge that any man, even this one, could be turned into a slave by his own penis was disturbing.

Skin crawling, she slapped his hand away. “Unless you’re going to arrest me for having the poor judgment to go out with your idiot nephew, our business here is over,” she said with remarkable calm. “Get out of my way. I’m walking home.”

“I can give you a ride. Maybe Flo is home. Maybe the two of you would be interested…”

She shivered at the obvious innuendo. He wanted the both of them together. And why not, right? After all, a Tremaine was a Tremaine.

How did her mother stand this? Seducing men at the drop of a hat because she could? Cassie understood Flo enjoyed the power of bringing a man to his knees with lust, but Cassie would rather bring a man to his knees with pain. A direct kick to the family jewels would do it.

But this wasn’t the man to do that to. Keeping her smile in place, she pushed past him. “Sorry, Sheriff. Not in the mood tonight.”

Her heels clicked on the asphalt as she started walking. Don’t follow me, don’t follow me. She felt him watching her every step of the way, until she turned the corner.

Only then, when she knew she was truly alone and out of his sight, did she break stride and start running. No one stopped her. No one cared enough to.

Down Magnolia Avenue to Petunia Avenue, and then finally she turned off onto Pansy Lane. For the first time she didn’t stop to sneer at the ridiculous flower names of the streets, and instead ran down the driveway of the duplex she’d shared all her life with her mother.

Her aunt and cousin lived on the other side. Kate would be a huge comfort right now, the voice of calm reason, but she’d still be with her date from the prom. Probably having the time of her life.

Cassie didn’t go inside the house. Didn’t want to face her mother, who would get misty-eyed at the sight of Cassie all over again. They both knew Cassie was leaving, and soon. The day she graduated, if possible. She had a life to find.

And someday she’d come back here and show them all. She’d come back driving a fancy car. She’d live in the biggest house on Lilac Hill, just because she could. And…oh, yes, this was her favorite…she’d get the sheriff. Somehow, some way.

But most of all, she’d…become someone. Someone special.

She went around the side of the duplex to the backyard. Kicked off the Nine West pumps she’d saved all last month for and dug her toes into the grass. Tipping back her head, she gauged the distance she had to jump in the dress wrapped around her like Saran wrap.

And took a flying leap for the rope ladder. In her skimpy black dress, she shimmied up the tree and landed in the tree house that had served as her and Kate’s getaway all their lives.

It was cramped. And musty. Probably full of spiders. It’d been a long time since she’d needed to be alone, but she needed that now. Desperately. She was close—far too close—to losing it, when losing it was not an option. Ever.

Opening the small wooden cigar box she and Kate kept hidden, she took out her private and personal vice and lit it. A cigarette. It helped steady her nerves. There was also her diary, and Kate’s, inside the box. She reached for hers.

Leaning back against the trunk of the tree, she studied the stars, mentally reviewing the list of things she wanted to accomplish with her life before she scribbled them into her diary. Kate would get a kick out of the fancy-car goal, she was sure of it.

When she was done writing, she leaned back and watched a falling star, and though she would have denied it to her dying day, she wished.

She wished that life would get better soon as she got the hell out of Pleasantville.

1

Ten Years Later

SHERIFF SEAN TAGGART—Tag, as he was commonly known—had eaten, showered and was sprawled naked and exhausted across his bed when the phone rang.

“Forget it,” he muttered, not bothering to lift his head. He didn’t have the energy. God, he needed sleep. He’d been up all night helping a neighboring county sheriff chase down a man wanted for two bank robberies. Then this morning, before he could so much as think about sleep, he’d had to rescue four stupid cows from the middle of the highway. He’d also wrestled a drunken and equally stupid teenager out of a deep gorge.

Then he’d delivered a baby when the mother had decided labor pains were just gas so that she’d ended up stranding herself thirty-five miles from nowhere.

Now, though it was barely the dinner hour, he just might never move again. He lived alone on a hill above town. Not on Lilac Hill like the rich, but in a nice, comfortable, sleepy little subdivision where the houses were far apart and old enough to be full of character—aka run-down. His place was more run-down than most, which was how he’d afforded it.

Renovation had come slow and costly, so much so that he’d only gotten to his bedroom and kitchen thus far. But it was his, and it was home. After growing up with a father who ruled not only the town with an iron fist but his kid as well, and no mother from the time she’d left for greener pastures when he’d turned eight, having a warm, cozy home had become very important to him.

Truth be known, he was ready for more than just a home these days. It wasn’t his family he wanted more of, as he and his father had never been close. How could they be when they didn’t share the same ideas, morals or beliefs, and to the older Taggart, Tag was little more than a disappointment. Regardless of the strained relationship with his father, Tag felt he was missing something else. He was ready for a friend, a lover, a wife. A soul mate. Someone he could depend on for a change, instead of the other way around.

But right now, he’d settle for eight hours of sleep in a row.

The phone kept ringing. Turning his head he pried one eye open and looked at it. It could be anyone. It could be his father, ex-sheriff, now retired, calling to tell Tag how to do his job. Again.

Or it could be an emergency, because if life had taught Tag any lesson at all, it was that just about anything could happen.

“Damn it.” He yanked up the receiver. “What?”

“Dispatch,” Annie reported in her perpetually cheerful voice. Off duty she was his ex-fiancée and pest extraordinaire. On duty, she was still his ex-fiancée and pest extraordinaire. Not long after becoming engaged, they’d decided they were better coworkers than co-habitors, and they’d been right. Tag could never have taken her eternal cheerfulness in bed night after night.

“Heard you didn’t even kiss Sheila good night after your date,” she said. “I’ll have you know I went to a lot of trouble to set that up. You’ve got to kiss ’em, Tag, or you’re going to ruin your bad-boy rep.”

He groaned and rolled over. “God, I hope so.”

“I just want you happy. Like I am.”

She was getting married next month to one of his deputies, which was a good thing. But now she wanted him as almost married as she was. Sighing would do no good. Neither would ignoring her—she was more ruthless than a pit bull terrier. “If it’s any of your business, which it’s not, I didn’t kiss Sheila because it wasn’t a date. I didn’t even want to go in the first place—” Why was he bothering? She wouldn’t listen. Rubbing his eyes, he stared at the ceiling. “Why are you calling?”

“Know why you’re so grumpy? You need to get laid once in a while. Look—” As if departing a state secret, she lowered her voice. “Sex is a really great stress reliever. I’d give you some to remind you, just as a favor, mind you, but I’m a committed woman now.”

Tag wished he was deep asleep. “Tell me you’re not calling me from the dispatch phone to say this to me.”

“Someone has to, Tag, honey.”

“I’m going back to sleep now.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?” He heard the rustling of papers as Annie shifted things on her desk. He pictured the mess—the stacks, the unfiled reports, the mugs of coffee and chocolate candy wrappers strewn over everything—and got all the more tense. “Look at the computer screen in front of you,” he instructed. “Read me your last call.”