Killer Cowboy. Carla Cassidy

play,” he replied more curtly than he intended. She looked down at her plate and he instantly felt guilty for his sharp tone. “I heard through the grapevine that you’re an artist.”

      She looked at him once again. “I like to paint.”

      “Watercolor or oil?”

      Her eyes lit up. “Right now I’m doing oil paintings with Western themes. I have an arrangement with Mary Redwing. She’s got a couple of them up on her website for sale.”

      “From everything I’ve heard Mary has a solid business.” The Native American woman sold handmade baskets, pots and other items inherent to her Choctaw culture while her grandmother, Halena, sewed traditional dresses to sell.

      “Have you always liked to paint?” He felt himself begin to relax for the first time in weeks.

      “Always. All I ever dreamed of was becoming a famous artist. That’s what I was working toward before I came here. I owned a small shop that sold my artwork along with some other items.”

      “Was it successful?”

      She hesitated before replying and her eyes darkened slightly. “I was struggling to make ends meet. I think with more time and money it might have been a real success. I never dreamed I’d wind up on a ranch in Oklahoma.”

      “Were you close to your aunt Cass?”

      “Not really, although I was named after her. She came to New York a couple of times to visit my parents and when I was about ten we came out here to visit. But that was about it. That’s why I was so surprised when she left me this place.” She paused to take a drink of water and then continued, “Aunt Cass was kind of the outcast of the family. My parents are very New York. They’re both criminal defense lawyers and extremely driven.”

      For the next half an hour they ate and she talked about her parents and her life before Holiday ranch. He laughed as she related stories about quirky characters who had come into her shop.

      “You know, Bitterroot isn’t without its own quirky characters,” he said.

      “I already know that Halena loves to wear funky hats and occasionally pinches some cowboy’s butt.”

      He laughed. “That she does, but I’ll bet you didn’t know that Leroy Atkinson has his entire house lined inside with aluminum foil so space aliens can’t see him or hear his thoughts. He also believes aliens visit his ranch on numerous occasions.”

      Her eyes lit with suppressed laughter. “Is that for real or are you making it up?”

      “I don’t make stuff up,” he replied. “About twice a month Leroy calls me out to his ranch to see evidence that a spaceship has landed on his property. I never see anything other than some tamped-down grass where a cow rested through the night. Actually, my parents lived next to Leroy when I was a kid. Leroy was like a second father to me. He calls me out to his ranch because he’s lonely.”

      “That’s sad,” she said. By this time their plates were empty. “Would you like an after-dinner cup of coffee?” she asked. She stood and a spark of fading sunlight danced in the strands of her curly blond hair.

      The desire to touch the soft-looking curls itched his palms. “Thanks, but I should probably be on my way.” He needed to get out of here. Spending time with her had been far too pleasurable.

      He got up from the table. “Thanks for the great meal.”

      “Thank you for sharing it with me. Sometimes this big old house gets a bit lonely,” she replied.

      He headed toward the back door, needing to escape her. Without the smell of the food, he became acutely aware of her lilac and vanilla scent that wafted in the air. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller, more oppressive.

      He turned to tell her goodbye and she was right there, standing mere inches from him. Her lips were slightly parted as if anticipating a kiss, and even before he recognized his own intention, he drew her to him and covered her mouth with his.

      Her lips were welcome heat and sweet softness. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought she’d pull away, but instead she leaned into him and opened her mouth a little more in invitation. Desire suffused him as he deepened the kiss, and their tongues swirled together in a heated dance.

      He might have kissed her forever if she hadn’t released a throaty little moan. It made him want to pick her up and carry her into the house and to the nearest bedroom.

      And that emotion was what shot some sense through his head. He dropped his arms to his waist and stepped back from her. “Sorry, that was a huge mistake.”

      “A mistake?” Her winsome blue eyes searched his features in puzzlement. “Why was it a mistake?”

      He shoved his hands in his pockets to stymie them from reaching out for her again. “I shouldn’t have kissed you because before this case is over I think you’re probably going to hate me.”

      “Why would I have a reason to hate you?”

      “Because I believe one of your cowboys is guilty of not only killing Sam, but also those seven young men who were found under the shed. One of them is guilty and I’m not going to stop until I prove it.”

      He didn’t wait for her response, but instead turned and went out the door.