Outlaw Lawman

And this time she fell into his arms. Except it was more than a fall. She was so weak, she didn’t hit him with a thud. She melted against him.

Not good.

Because their arms went around each other. Their bodies met. And she looked up at him. At the same moment he looked down at her.

Everything seemed to freeze.

In fact, lots of weird things happened. The memories came. Not those of the attack—something that should have been occupying his thoughts—but other memories. Those that involved kisses.

And more than kisses.

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why USA TODAY bestselling author and former air force captain DELORES FOSSEN feels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Marshal Harlan McKinney heard a soft clicking sound.

He waited, heard a second one and eased back the covers on his bed. In one smooth motion he snatched up his Glock from the nightstand and got to his feet.

Just as someone opened the back door of his house.

Harlan listened, hoping it was one of his foster brothers who sometimes crashed at his place. But no such luck. Since all of his brothers were federal marshals, they wouldn’t have risked sneaking in at 2:00 a.m., knowing that he was armed and a light sleeper.

He heard the door being closed. Then footsteps. They were barely audible on the tiled floor of the kitchen, but the person seemed to be making a beeline for the hall that led to his bedroom and home office.

There was no time for him to pull on his jeans or boots. It was bad enough that he had an intruder, but now he’d have to bring down this person while he was wearing only boxers.

Harlan ducked behind his bedroom doorjamb and kept watch. There were no lights on in the house, but there was enough moonlight seeping through the windows that he could see the shadow that appeared on the wall.

Just a few feet away.

He didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. He wanted to see if the person was armed, but he couldn’t tell.

“Put your hands in the air,” Harlan growled, his voice shooting through the silence.

The intruder gasped and turned as if to bolt. Harlan wasn’t going to let that happen. He darn well intended to find out who was brassy or stupid enough to break into a lawman’s house in the dead of night. He lunged toward the person, slamming him back against the wall.

Except it wasn’t a him.

It didn’t take long for Harlan to figure that out, because his chest landed against her breasts.

“It’s me,” the woman said, her breathing heavy.

Harlan instantly recognized that voice, and he reached behind him and slapped on the hall light.

Caitlyn Barnes.

It had been a few years since he’d seen her, but there was no mistaking that face.

Or that body.

Harlan had firsthand knowledge of her breasts—bare, at that—pressing against him. And while that was a pretty good memory made years ago, there weren’t too many recent good memories when it came to the woman herself.

He stepped back, met her wide blue eyes. He caught just a glimpse of panic in them before she lifted her chin defiantly. He knew she was trying to look a whole lot more confident than she was. That’s because he was six-three, a good eight inches taller than she was, and he outsized her by at least eighty pounds. He was a big guy, and no one had ever accused him of looking too friendly.

Plus, there was the part about him having a Glock aimed at her pretty little head.

“Most visitors just knock, even the uninvited ones,” he snarled, easing the Glock back to his side. However, Harlan didn’t ease up on the glare.

She made a sarcastic sound of agreement, huffed and put her left palm on his chest to push him back. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Well, that wasn’t much of an explanation for breaking and entering or for driving all the way out to his family’s ranch. The place wasn’t exactly on the beaten path and was a good fifteen miles from the town of Maverick Springs, where he worked. Much too far out of the way for a friendly spur-of-the-moment visit, and Harlan let her know that with the hard look he gave her.

Caitlyn stared back, and then her gaze drifted lower. To his chest. Then lower. To his boxers. Since it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, and because he was still waiting on that explanation, Harlan didn’t budge.

But he felt that old kick of desire.

Hard not to feel it, since they’d been lovers. Well, onetime lovers anyway when they were teenagers. But once was enough. Stuff like that created bonds that weren’t worth a thimbleful of spit.