Linda Conrad - Slow Dancing With a Texan

He stopped the chuckle before it escaped his lips. “I don’t think Captain Johnson would be able to afford it, for one thing. And for another, we need to find a place where no one will recognize you, remember?” He was trying to keep the fear out of her eyes.

She ignored his question and honed in on the cost. “Why would Captain Johnson have to pay for it? I’ve got money. We can just put it on my credit card.”

Sloan shook his head and tried to keep the exasperated expression from his face. “Well, that might make some sense…if you had your wallet and credit cards with you. And if—”

“My purse! I forgot I dropped my purse when the shooting started.” The panicked look was back in her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’m sure the detectives have found it by now. And you can’t use the cards, anyway. Credit card charges are one of the easiest things to trace. From now on we’re strictly on a cash basis.”

Her eyes clouded over and he was fascinated by the muddy-river green color they had become. But she didn’t seem to have much else to say on the subject of how they paid for their getaway. He was grateful he’d remembered to bring along a few hundred in cash.

“One of my buddies in the Rangers has a cabin somewhere in the hill country,” Sloan mentioned, trying to sound casual. “He’s got it up for sale, but I don’t think he’d mind if we used it for a few days. What do you think?” He knew she must be feeling as if her world had tilted on its axis.

“I suppose so.” Lainie sounded so tentative that Sloan wanted to find a way to put the strength back in her voice.

“I’ll call him later and arrange it. Meanwhile…” Sloan hesitated, but in the end decided that even her anger had been better than this forlorn look. “Let’s go on back to our room and get some sleep.”

“Our room?” she yelped. “You think we’re both going to sleep in that tiny cubbyhole? Fat chance, buster.”

A flashdance of anger burned in her eyes, and Sloan breathed a silent sigh of relief that the spark was back. “Well, tell you what, sweetheart. If you don’t want to stay there, and since you don’t have any cash on you, I’ll be glad to give you the use of my truck for the night.

“The passenger seat reclines,” he continued as he covertly surveyed her reactions. “It shouldn’t be too uncomfortable for one night. But it might turn cold later on. Sure hope you don’t freeze.”

It was a thrill to see the bright pink flush of frustration spread across her features. She straightened her back and scowled.

So what if that look could burn a hole right through a steel door? At least her spirit was intact.

Her eyes narrowed to little slits when he didn’t make any other remarks and simply flagged the waitress to request the bill.

“All right,” she grumbled. “We can both stay in that little cave if you insist. But you’d better be praying that the bathtub is more comfortable than it looks, cause that’s where you’re headed. There’s no chance in the world that we’re both going to be sleeping in the same bed tonight.”

“So what’s your plan for the night?” Lainie asked. They’d just locked themselves firmly inside the cheap motel room once again. “Where do you intend to sleep?”

Sloan sat down and stretched out companionably on the double bed, his body fully extended and his head propped up against the wall behind it. “The bed isn’t half-bad.” He patted the narrow spot next to him. “Try it out for yourself.”

The look on her face was priceless, Sloan mused. He loved it when he got to her, and he wondered why that was.

Since she continued to stand there, staring down at the ugly bedspread as if it were a rattler pit, he decided to try a different tack. “Look. It’s early yet. Why don’t you sit and tell me about your job? Maybe together we can come up with a reason why someone wants to kill you.” He pushed the lone pillow up against the wall for her.

When she tentatively checked to make sure the top button of his raincoat was securely fastened at her neck before she sat on the bed, it was all Sloan could do to keep a straight face. But he refused to laugh. He was feeling unsure enough about his own motives, let alone hers.

She settled in as far away from him as physically possible. “Maybe you’re right. I’m still too tense to sleep, anyway.”

He allowed himself a half smile, while she took off her shoes and daintily dropped them on the floor.

“Okay.” She wiggled her bottom down into the mattress until she’d apparently nestled herself into a more comfortable position. “That’s better. What do you want to know?”

“Well,” he began as he toed his boots off, “I thought maybe you’d just start talking. You know, tell me about how a normal day goes, what kind of letters you receive, that sort of thing.” He reached over, wanting to flick a tiny, lingering crumb off her chin, but quickly caught himself.

“Oh, but that’s so boring,” she sighed. “Are you sure hearing about that stuff might help?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “You never know. What else have we got to do?”

The minute he said it, the visions of what else he’d like to be doing in this bed blindsided him. But if Lainie noticed the change, she didn’t mention it.

“My day always starts at six-thirty. Suzy and I jog every morning. It gets the blood moving.”

“Your sister lives with you?” He eased his body around slightly and tried to concentrate on her words, but shifting his focus didn’t do much to change the tension.

She looked startled for a second. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t know about my family.”

“Captain Johnson just told me that you were a single woman and that your mother was a longtime, dear friend of his. I assumed you either lived alone or with your mother.”

Lainie smiled then and folded her hands in her lap. “I sort of do both…live alone and also live with my family, that is. A few years back, I bought a big house in a fancy Houston suburb. It’s an old place and has a good-size guest house right on the grounds. I bought it with the idea in mind of letting my sister and her husband use the guest house.”

She frowned at a large crack in the wall directly in front of the bed. “But when it came time for us to move in, I realized that the two of them would be much more comfortable in the bigger place. So…”

“You moved into the guest house,” he said with a yawn.

“Yes, but it wasn’t a hardship. The smaller house is so cozy. It’s just perfect for my needs. And Jeff, he’s my brother-in-law, loves to entertain and have big parties. Someday, the two of them might have a bunch of kids, too, and the living arrangements have all worked out for the best. Without family nearby, a person is no one.”

“But you own both houses?”

“Sure. In fact, a year or so ago I bought a neighboring house when the old woman who lived there passed away. It was a good thing, too. My father had a stroke a few months later, so I insisted that he and Mom move in next door so I could keep an eye on them.” She inclined her head. “I suppose you could say we live in a family compound.”

Sloan could not imagine anything worse. The thought of having people—meddling family members especially—underfoot all the time gave him the creeps.

“Sounds real cozy,” he said, using her words and with a grin he didn’t feel. “So your father is still alive. Does he work?”

“He’s totally disabled. Confined to a wheelchair,” she said sadly.

“And your brother-in-law…what does he do for a living?”

Lainie studied her toes. “Well, Jeff runs my father’s bar now. It’s not much of a living, though. The place is only open a few hours a day, except on weekends. Mom keeps the books, but it never has been much of a moneymaker.”

Sloan got the picture. Lainie seemed to be the sole support for the whole clan. He wondered if she realized how much friction could arise between family members when one strong person ruled the purse strings. As a lawman he’d seen that kind of thing happen often enough.

“Hmm. Let me get this straight in my head,” he began. “All of your immediate family lives in housing that you own and no doubt provide free of charge.”

“I couldn’t ask my family to pay me.”

“Uh-huh. And you are the one person in the family who is gainfully employed.”

“My sister works hard in her job at the paper.”

“I’m sure she does. But you’re her boss, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“So without you, what would become of the rest of the family?”

Those great green eyes widened and she twisted the edge of the bedspread around in her fingers. “I’ve provided for them in my will, of course. And I imagine that Suzy could keep the column going for quite a while if I were ill. I’ve been letting her write a few of the columns so she could get the practice.”

“Seems to me that the whole bunch of them ought to be real concerned over your welfare.”

“That’s not fair.” She stood up and began pacing from the bed to the door and back. “They’re my family. All families have a few problems, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.” She stopped and held her palm out, pleading for him to understand. “You must know how it is. Family is the most important thing in the world. You probably have a few family problems of your own. Everyone does.”

His silence told Lainie a lot about the man. There was something about his family that bothered him.

Finally he shook his head. “Don’t have a family,” he muttered.

“None? No wife…or ex-wife…and kids?”

He scowled. “Never been married.”

“But surely you must have parents. Were you orphaned at an early age or something?” She sat down on the edge of the bed and studied him again.

“Nope. Had a mother…up until December fifteenth.”

“Your mother just passed away three months ago?” She gulped, wondering how she’d gotten herself into such a stupid conversation in the first place. “I’m so sorry, Sloan. Were you two very close?”

His eyes turned dark and he looked away. “Not really. I didn’t get back to visit her much. It’d been maybe six years or so since the last time.”

From the sound of his voice, she wondered if he’d even had a chance to speak to his mother before her death. In her typical prying way, Lainie couldn’t stand not asking.

“Uh…maybe this isn’t any of my business, but were you two estranged over something? Many of my advice columns touch on the guilt people feel after the death of a family member. The worst is when they’d never gotten the chance to reconcile their problems, and all of a sudden it’s too late.”

It was Sloan’s turn to stand. He took off the denim jacket, and for the first time Lainie saw the gun stuck in a holster at his waistband. The sight of it put a cold damper on the hot lust she’d begun to feel at the sight of his tight, muscular butt encased in superslim jeans.

“You’re right,” he said over his shoulder as he hung up the jacket and unknotted his tie. “It’s none of your business.”

That put her in her place. She should’ve known better than to try to befriend an uptight, close-mouthed lawman. Well, fine.

“I have an overnight kit in the truck,” he told her as he removed the holster and checked the gun. “Do you want me to rustle up some toothpaste and stuff for you to use? You could sleep in one of my T-shirts, if you like. That would probably be more comfortable than the heavy old raincoat.” He pulled off the Ranger’s badge and laid it down on top of the television with his gun.