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deadest days since she’d opened her business. Exactly five customers had come in, if she didn’t count the deputy, who hadn’t bought anything anyhow.
    Well, at least the lack of customers meant she could get an early jump on her closing routine. It was unlikely that she’d get any more business. This beastly weather had people diving for cover. Luckily for her, she lived over her shop and didn’t have to face the icy roads and treacherous driving conditions. Taffeta stepped behind the counter to count down her till.
    As she opened the cash drawer and lifted out the tray, she glimpsed a flash of khaki tan outside the window.
Barney?
Her fingers lost their grip on themetal. The till plummeted to the floor. Coins exploded in all directions. Taffeta bit back a swearword. A second glance at the dismal street revealed that there was no deputy in a khaki uniform on the sidewalk outside of her shop. Thank heaven for small miracles. All she needed was to be caught crawling around on the floor to recover money from a dropped till.
    What is wrong with me?
she wondered, grabbing two bills that had landed beside the wastebasket.
I’m behaving like a dimwit. What is it about that man?
Had she learned nothing from her marriage to Phillip?
Instant attraction
was just another term for chemistry, and it fizzled out quickly. She couldn’t allow herself to feel this way about anyone, especially not a lawman.
    Deputy Barney Sterling had access to information that most people didn’t. If he got curious enough, he could run a background check on her. Taffeta shivered. If word got out about who she was and what she’d been accused of doing, she’d probably have to leave town. All her efforts to build a life here for herself, and hopefully someday for Sarah, would be down the drain.
    She was happy in Mystic Creek. Well, as happy as she’d ever be without her daughter, anyway.
I’m just lonely
. She hadn’t had sex in—God, she couldn’t remember the last time Phillip had turned toward her in bed for a quickie that had left her staring at the ceiling, wanting to feel what she’d heard other women did, yet relieved that it was over.
Phillip
. Anger burned through Taffeta. She pitied his secondwife, Melanie, a buxom blonde who dressed like a hooker. No woman deserved to be nothing more than an ornament on a man’s arm, not even a bimbo.
    Taffeta slumped back on her heels to stare at nothing. She would never be so stupid with men again. The next time she fell for a guy, if she ever did, she’d be sure he was as stable as a pillar set in concrete. But for now she had other important goals: building her business, getting some more education under her belt, and making a life for herself and her daughter. She could fantasize about Barney Sterling all she liked at night when darkness blanketed the town and held reality at bay. But during business hours, she would be a rational, mature, and responsible woman who understood that her reaction to the lawman was caused by nothing more than physical need, overactive hormones, and loneliness. Fantasizing was safe. Involvement wasn’t.
    Her till was four dollars and sixty-four cents off even though she’d picked up every coin she saw. She released a weary sigh as she locked the shop door and flipped over the CLOSED sign. A long, hot bath sounded fabulous. Then she’d have soup and half a sandwich for dinner while she watched a program on her boxy old television. No foolish dreams for her tonight, and definitely no dancing, not until her new blind arrived. She couldn’t afford to attract attention. Once was enough.
    •   •   •
    The next morning, Taffeta got up early. It was stock-ordering day, and if she wanted to be focused on that, she needed to get it done before the shop gotbusy. Normally things were fairly quiet until midmorning.
    Taffeta yawned as she fired up the store computer to get on the Internet. She’d tossed and turned nearly half the night, and had once even gotten up