The Deputy's Lost and Found / Her Second Chance Cop: The Deputy's Lost and Found / Her Second Chance Cop

“I can’t imagine living anywhere else.” He darted a glance at her. “That probably sounds like I lack ambition, doesn’t it? You’re probably wondering why a man like me doesn’t want a place of his own.”

“I’m not wondering anything like that,” she admitted. “I see a man who loves his family.”

“Hmm. That’s true. But I don’t hang around here because I’m too green to cut the apron strings.”

Lass smiled in the darkness. Green was the exact opposite of the image he portrayed, she thought. He was strong, brave and independent. The exact opposite of … whom? For a split second, a man’s image almost popped into her head, but it was so fleeting and her mind so weary, she didn’t bother to try to catch it.

“I would never think that,” she assured him.

His hand moved downward until his fingers were curled snugly around the side of her waist. “You’re being very polite.”

“I’m not just being polite. I’m being honest.”

He chuckled then. “Well, I guess to the outward person my brothers and I look like mama’s boys. But that’s not the case at all. Conall and Liam run the ranch operations. Without all their work, Dad wouldn’t be able to retire and enjoy these years with Mom. And me, well, I don’t do ranch work on a day-to-day basis, but I help as much as I can.”

“That’s something I’ve been curious about,” Lass told him. “Why did you become a lawman? Particularly, when your brothers are ranchers like your father.”

They walked for several yards before he finally answered and by then they’d entered a garden filled with ornamental bushes and low, blooming flowers. The graveled path had turned to stepping stones and the sweet smell of honeysuckle filled the night air.

Brady paused to face her. “I’m lucky, Lass. From the time we were young children, our father has always encouraged us to follow our own dreams. If that meant something other than raising thoroughbreds, then that was okay with him.”

“You don’t like working with horses?”

There was a perplexed frown on her face, as though she couldn’t imagine anyone opposing such a job. It made Brady realize just how much she loved horses and that she’d no doubt been involved in the equine business in some form or fashion. But that was a wide-ranging possibility that included farms, ranches, tracks, trainers, stables and veterinarians, coupled with all the offshoot jobs from those businesses. Unless she remembered something helpful, finding her identity was going to be like searching for one tiny mosquito in the middle of a giant swamp.

Keeping that worrisome thought to himself, he said, “Oh, sure. I love horses. But I never had that special touch with them. Not the way my father and brothers have always had. They understand what a horse is thinking and planning way before the horse even knows it. And I … well, I learned the hard way. By being bit or kicked or bucked off. You get the picture. But that didn’t matter. I just happened to have other ideas about my career. And it wasn’t breeding or racing horses.”

She nodded that she understood his independence wasn’t born out of retaliation. “How did you decide you wanted to be a lawman? You have other relatives in the business?”

He chuckled. “I wish. Then everyone wouldn’t look at me like I’m the lone wolf of the bunch.” Curling his arm around her shoulder, he once again urged her forward. “Actually, I first planned to be a lawyer. A horse farm of this size always needs legal work and I liked the idea of laying out rules and regulations.”

“A lawyer,” she repeated with faint amazement. “I can’t imagine you in a courtroom.”

“No? Well, Grandma could imagine me in that role. She said I could argue better than anyone she knew,” he teased. “But after I started college it didn’t take me very long to realize I didn’t want to be confined behind four walls for the rest of my life.”

“So you quit college and went to work for the sheriff’s department?”

“Not exactly,” he answered. “I went to work part-time for the sheriff’s department, did my rookie training and continued earning a degree in criminal justice during my off hours. All of it together was tough going for a while. But now I’m glad I put out the effort.” With a wry smile, he glanced down at her. “I took the long way about answering a simple question, didn’t I? So I’ve talked enough about myself. Let’s talk about you.”

By now they had reached a long, oval-shaped pool surrounded by footlights. The crystal clear water sparkled invitingly and as she stared at the depths, she envisioned herself in a similar pool, the water slipping cool against her arms, the night air above her hot and humid. She tried to hang on to the image, to memorize every detail, but like before, it was gone almost as quickly as it came and with a frustrated sigh, she said, “We can’t talk about me, Brady. I don’t know anything about me.”

Seeing the whole thing disturbed her, Brady urged her over to a flowered lounge positioned a few feet from the edge of the pool. After she took a seat on the end of the long chair, he sank next to her and reached for her hand.

“I’m sorry, Lass. I wasn’t thinking. Damn it, I’ve never been around anyone who can’t remember who they are and I keep forgetting to watch my words. Everything I say seems to put a glaring light on your predicament.”

Shaking her head, she stared pensively into the darkness. “That’s all right. I don’t want you to watch your words around me, Brady. I want you to be yourself. I don’t want you to try to isolate or cushion me from reality. I’m tougher than you think. Really I am.”

Brady couldn’t stop his hands from wrapping around her slender shoulders or turning her toward him. There was something sweetly endearing about her that pulled at everything inside of him. Something about the trusting look in her gray eyes that made him want to be her protector, her hero, her everything.

“Tough is not the way I’d describe you, Lass,” he said lowly. The holes in the crocheted shawl exposed patches of skin to his hands. The soft feel of it excited him, almost as much as gazing at the moist curves of her lips. “Strong. But not tough.”

Her lashes fluttered demurely against her cheeks. “Brady, we came out here for a walk,” she pointed out. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re sitting.”

He rubbed the top of his forefinger beneath her chin and swallowed as the urge to kiss her threatened to overtake his senses.

He murmured, “As a deputy of this county, I can assure you that sitting isn’t a crime.”

The tip of her tongue slipped out to nervously moisten her top lip. “Brady, that kiss … earlier—”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think we should repeat it.”

She looked confused and worried and for the first time in his life, Brady felt a bit of unease himself. Which didn’t make any sense. Kissing a beautiful woman had never concerned him before. He didn’t know why it should give him second thoughts now. But kissing Lass had been different, he realized. So different that he wanted to do it over. He wanted to make sure it had actually felt that amazing.

“Why?”

Her mouth fell open. “You have to ask? Brady, I can’t even tell you my name! I don’t even know how old I am!”

He cupped his palm against the side of her face as his thoughts rolled back to the night he’d found her lying lifelessly in the ditch. When she’d finally regained consciousness and he’d sheltered her in his arms, he’d experienced some very unprofessional feelings and since he’d gotten to know her, those unprofessional feelings had only deepened. Hell, that was enough to scare any tried and true bachelor. But it didn’t scare him enough to make him rise to his feet and walk away from her.

“Of course you can tell me your name,” he insisted. “It’s Lass.”

“Only temporarily.”

Ignoring that, he said, “And you certainly look old enough to kiss.”

She sighed. “Kate says you’re somewhat of a ladies’ man.”

He grimaced. “Grandma has a motormouth.”

“Then she was speaking the truth?”

Since she wasn’t trying to pull away, Brady made the most of the close proximity by delving his fingers into her silky hair, sliding them downward through the long strands.

“Look, Lass, I’m not going to pretend I’ve been some sort of saint. Especially when—”

“When I can’t even tell you what I’ve been,” she finished miserably. Then biting her bottom lip, she looked away. “I’m sorry, Brady. I had no right to question you about your past. Not when mine is a complete blank.”

“Lass, Lass,” he softly scolded, “no one has to give me your résumé for me to know that you are and were a lady. And in spite of what Grandma says about me, I’m a gentleman.”

Her eyes softened and then to Brady’s amazement, her face drew near to his. “Yes, I think you are,” she whispered.

The moment their lips touched, Brady realized he’d made a mistake. Her kiss didn’t just taste amazing; the sensations went far deeper than that. Like tremors of an earthquake, waves of pleasure vibrated through him, urged him to crush her close, to search out the mysterious sweetness of her lips.

Seconds could have passed or minutes, he didn’t know, but suddenly he felt her arms go around his neck and the sign of surrender brought a groan of triumph deep in his throat. Her lips parted wider and he took advantage, slipping his tongue past their sweet curves and into the honeyed cavity of her mouth.

The intimate connection caused his head to reel and before he could get a grip on his senses, their surroundings began to float away. His hands began to urgently roam her body, his lips fought to totally capture hers and in the process he forgot everything but making love to the woman in his arms.