and piercing stare made him reexamine his words. No, he hadn’t said anything wrong, but maybe his tone could’ve been more professional. Hell, he hadn’t consciously been thinking about what he’d glimpsed hiding behind that jacket.... But the notion that he might’ve blurred the line between the office and his personal feelings didn’t sit well.
“Trust me,” she said finally, her lips lifting in a faint smile. “There were three women who had the men’s full attention.”
Noah knew who she meant, but that didn’t preclude the boys from checking her out. Yeah, the young cowhands in the area tended to go for that sort of flash, at least since the Sundance had been drawing in the ladies.
The woman facing him was different, one of those understated beauties. The longer you studied the high cheekbones, the nice skin, her generous mouth, the prettier she got. He knew most of those boys hanging out at Sadie’s this afternoon, and they’d looked, all right. Noah could guarantee her that.
He picked up the pen again, his gaze catching on the fax sitting on the corner of his desk. Late twenties, tall, attractive, brown hair, brown eyes.
His gaze shot back to Alana Richardson.
Well, hell.
3
B ETWEEN THE POINTLESS questions and phone calls he’d answered since they started, the report was taking forever. And with each passing moment, life as she knew it was slipping away. The only compensation for this monumental hassle was that Alana liked the way the sheriff held his pen. Or more accurately, she liked his hands. Big-boned and tanned, with a light sprinkling of fine hair across the backs of his fingers. His uniform shirtsleeves were rolled back a couple times, displaying broad wrists and muscular forearms.
He stopped writing, and she lifted her gaze to find his mesmerizing blue-green eyes studying her face. Her breathing faltered for a second. The sheriff really was an extraordinarily good-looking man. Even better in person than in the photos.
She ordered herself to inhale slowly and focus on the problem. Oh, God, that’s why she was so preoccupied with the sheriff. Every time she let herself consider the ramifications of losing her belongings, she thought she’d pass out. “Yes?”
“Other than Gunderson, did you talk to anyone?”
“No. I don’t believe so.”
He returned his gaze to the report and frowned slightly, pushing a hand through his longish, sun-streaked brown hair. It was thick, just like his lashes, which did nothing to distract from the rugged, outdoor look he had going on. Part of her job was to notice that sort of detail. Like how his biceps bunched and strained the material of his tan shirt as his hand slowly slid through his hair and then paused at the back of his neck.
No wonder those women had mentioned him in their reviews of the Sundance. Alana would sign him up for a print ad in a hot second. Or any kind of ad, for that matter. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like at this point. Her poor limp hair needed work in the best of situations, and after that long plane ride, then Harvey’s rust-mobile… Most of her makeup must have melted off by now. Hoping for a peek in her compact mirror, she glanced down for her purse.
With a start, she remembered it was gone. Along with her luggage and laptop and phone. That’s why she was sitting here. She could feel the panic start to rise once more in her throat, in her chest. She lived her life on that phone, on that laptop. She barely knew anyone’s phone number because they were all on speed dial or in her contact list. She hadn’t spent twenty-four hours without access to the internet for longer than she cared to remember.
Not to mention her clothes or her makeup—which was worth a fortune. Her night cream alone cost a hundred dollars an ounce. She let out a small, pathetic whimper that surprised both of them.
The sheriff jerked his head up. “You all right?” He pushed away from his desk and got to his feet, his concerned
“Trust me,” she said finally, her lips lifting in a faint smile. “There were three women who had the men’s full attention.”
Noah knew who she meant, but that didn’t preclude the boys from checking her out. Yeah, the young cowhands in the area tended to go for that sort of flash, at least since the Sundance had been drawing in the ladies.
The woman facing him was different, one of those understated beauties. The longer you studied the high cheekbones, the nice skin, her generous mouth, the prettier she got. He knew most of those boys hanging out at Sadie’s this afternoon, and they’d looked, all right. Noah could guarantee her that.
He picked up the pen again, his gaze catching on the fax sitting on the corner of his desk. Late twenties, tall, attractive, brown hair, brown eyes.
His gaze shot back to Alana Richardson.
Well, hell.
3
B ETWEEN THE POINTLESS questions and phone calls he’d answered since they started, the report was taking forever. And with each passing moment, life as she knew it was slipping away. The only compensation for this monumental hassle was that Alana liked the way the sheriff held his pen. Or more accurately, she liked his hands. Big-boned and tanned, with a light sprinkling of fine hair across the backs of his fingers. His uniform shirtsleeves were rolled back a couple times, displaying broad wrists and muscular forearms.
He stopped writing, and she lifted her gaze to find his mesmerizing blue-green eyes studying her face. Her breathing faltered for a second. The sheriff really was an extraordinarily good-looking man. Even better in person than in the photos.
She ordered herself to inhale slowly and focus on the problem. Oh, God, that’s why she was so preoccupied with the sheriff. Every time she let herself consider the ramifications of losing her belongings, she thought she’d pass out. “Yes?”
“Other than Gunderson, did you talk to anyone?”
“No. I don’t believe so.”
He returned his gaze to the report and frowned slightly, pushing a hand through his longish, sun-streaked brown hair. It was thick, just like his lashes, which did nothing to distract from the rugged, outdoor look he had going on. Part of her job was to notice that sort of detail. Like how his biceps bunched and strained the material of his tan shirt as his hand slowly slid through his hair and then paused at the back of his neck.
No wonder those women had mentioned him in their reviews of the Sundance. Alana would sign him up for a print ad in a hot second. Or any kind of ad, for that matter. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like at this point. Her poor limp hair needed work in the best of situations, and after that long plane ride, then Harvey’s rust-mobile… Most of her makeup must have melted off by now. Hoping for a peek in her compact mirror, she glanced down for her purse.
With a start, she remembered it was gone. Along with her luggage and laptop and phone. That’s why she was sitting here. She could feel the panic start to rise once more in her throat, in her chest. She lived her life on that phone, on that laptop. She barely knew anyone’s phone number because they were all on speed dial or in her contact list. She hadn’t spent twenty-four hours without access to the internet for longer than she cared to remember.
Not to mention her clothes or her makeup—which was worth a fortune. Her night cream alone cost a hundred dollars an ounce. She let out a small, pathetic whimper that surprised both of them.
The sheriff jerked his head up. “You all right?” He pushed away from his desk and got to his feet, his concerned
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