Only in this particular nights version, Justin pulled her into his arms. For The Tennessee Waltz-which had to be one of the schmaltziest songs of all time, a song doomed to bring out romantic feelings in even the toughest of women-such as herself-and suddenly she was naked. Whirling around the floor. Waltzing. Without a stitch on. Only being naked was okay, because there wasnt a soul in the room who realized that she was naked. Except for herself.
And Justin.
Alarm bells started clanging in her ears, but Winona determinedly ignored them. Obviously this wasnt real, and since this happened to be her personal, wicked dream, she didnt want to let go of it until she had to.
Justin couldnt take his eyes off her. She whacked him upside the head-which was such a real, logical thing for her to do that for a second, Winona freaked that this wasnt a dream-but he didnt seem to mind, and the whack didnt seem to stop him from looking, eithera long, slow look that began with her naked toes, dawdled past long slender legs (this was a dream, for sure), past hips without a single spare ounce of fat on them (and a damn good dream), up, his gaze a caress that took in waist and proud, trembling breasts and white throat, then up to her vulnerable, naked eyes.
Yeah, she wanted him.
Shed always wanted him.
Another alarm bell clanged in her mind-but for Petes sake, in the privacy of a dream, a girl should be able to be honest with herself. Justin looked like a young Sam Elliot. Tall. Lanky. With a slow, lazy drawl and a lot for a girl to worry about in those sexy eyes. Cover those broad shoulders in a tux and a woman just wanted to sip him in-correction-sip him in and lap him up both.
A vague memory surfaced in her dream. Shed been twelve. Until shed been fostered with the Gerard family, shed never had a bike, and she was new to the family, still waiting for someone to hit her, someone to scold her. Itd happen. She just didnt know when yet, but she was wary this time, prepared to protect herself. She didnt need anybody to watch out for herit was just the bike. Oh man, oh man, she wanted to ride a bike so badly, and everybody assumed she knew how, at her age. But she didnt. And the first time she took it out, it was almost dusk, because no one was on the street then, no strangers to see her.
And Justin had been there when shed crashed into a tree. Helped her up. Righted the bike. A gorgeous heartthrob of a seventeen-year-old-with a chivalrous streak-enough to make her tough, hard, mean, cold heart go hoboyhoboyhoboy. Hed touched her cheek. Made her laugh. Then shed had to punch him for helping her, of course. What else could a twelve-year-old do?
More alarm bells clanged in her mind. The same, annoying, insistent alarm bells.
Winonas eyes popped open on a pitch-black bedroom. She wasnt twelve and falling into a sinking-deep, mortifying crush with Justin Webb. She wasnt dancing naked with Justin at the Texas Cattlemans Club, either. It was just her bedroom, and the telephone was ringing off the hook, at seven in the morning-according to the insane neon dials on the bedside clock.
The instant she read the time, though, she snapped awake fast. There was only one reason for a telephone call at this crazy hour. Trouble. And although technically she was a nine-to-five cop, working with at-risk teens, reality was that kids never got in trouble at nice, convenient hours.
She fumbled for the lamp switch, then hit the ground running, shagging a hand through her tousled hair as she grabbed the receiver.
Winona?
Not a kid. An adults voice. Her boss, from the precinct. You know its me. Whats wrong, Wayne?
You know the jet that was supposed to take off last night for Asterland? The hotsy totsy flight with all the royalty and dignitaries and all?
Yes, of course. So did the whole town.
Well, something went wrong. She lifted off, barely got in the air before they were radioing in some garbled, panicked message about a problem. Next thing, theyre making an emergency landing about fifteen miles out of town, middle of nowhere, flat as a pancake. Fire broke out-
She got the gist. The details didnt matter. Holy cow. How can I help?
Truthfully, I dont know. Winona could well imagine Wayne squinting and rubbing the back of his head. He didnt like trouble in his town. The way Wayne saw it, Royal belonged to him. Anyone took the crease out of those jeans ticked him off. Im calling from the scene. Everythings a mess. This all just happened less than a half hour ago. First thing was getting everybody off the plane safely. Only a couple seem badly injured, the rest are just shaken. But what the hell happened, I dont know. And I dont want every Tom, Dick and curious Harry messing with my crime scene. Its still dark. Only so much I can get done until daylight-
He was talking more to himself than to her. Winona knew how her bosss mind worked. So where could I be the most help? At the hospital? The plane site? The office?
Here, Wayne said bluntly. You gonna kick me straight to Austin if I admit I just want a woman here?
Probably. Holding the phone clamped to her ear with one hand, she reached for the deodorant on the dresser and thumbed open the lid. Applying deodorant one-handed was tricky, but shed done it before.
Well, then, youre just going to have to kick me. To be honest, everythings being handled that needs to be. Its just, that aint good enough. Not for this. Dad blame it, we seem to have the makings of a major international incident. First, we have a plane that Im told is top of the line, perfect, nothing can go wrong-but it still crash-landed. Then we have embassies calling. We have Washington calling. Weve got fire trucks from Midland to Odessa joining in to help us. Then half the town-naturally-is starting to show up as the sun comes up, its like trying to stop an avalanche. Next thing the womenll be bringing casseroles. Its a madhouse. We got to find out what caused this plane crash and to do that, we have to get everybody out of here and get some kind of order. I just want my whole team here, thats all. Even if-
Well, then, youre just going to have to kick me. To be honest, everythings being handled that needs to be. Its just, that aint good enough. Not for this. Dad blame it, we seem to have the makings of a major international incident. First, we have a plane that Im told is top of the line, perfect, nothing can go wrong-but it still crash-landed. Then we have embassies calling. We have Washington calling. Weve got fire trucks from Midland to Odessa joining in to help us. Then half the town-naturally-is starting to show up as the sun comes up, its like trying to stop an avalanche. Next thing the womenll be bringing casseroles. Its a madhouse. We got to find out what caused this plane crash and to do that, we have to get everybody out of here and get some kind of order. I just want my whole team here, thats all. Even if-
Wayne?
What?
Stop talking. Give me directions. He did. Ill be there in twenty minutes. She hung up and started moving. Plucked white panties from the drawer, pulled them on, then hopped into low-rise, boot-cut jeans. She stood up, head scrambled. Not by Waynes call in itself. Maybe she was hired to work only with juveniles, but this wasnt some big eastern city. This was Texas. People pitched in whenever there was a crisis, and no one gave a rats toenail over whether helping fit a job description.
But a plane crash-landing was big news-and troubling. She knew every single face that had been on that flight-theyd all been at the Texas Cattlemans Club gala two nights ago-and a few of them were personal friends of hers besides. Pamela Miles had been flying to Asterland to be an exchange teacher. Lady Helena had made herself known around town because she was the kind to involve herself in caring causes. On top of thatwell, the whole world was troubling these days, but not Royal. Things just didnt happen here. Sure, there were some thefts and squabbles and people who lost their screws now and then, but nothing unusual. Nothing happened there that would ever draw attention from outsiders.
Suddenly she heard a sound-a sound odd and unexpected enough to make her quit jogging down the hall and stop for a second. The sound had seemed like a mewling babys cry-but of course, that was ridiculous. When she heard nothing again, she picked up her pace.
In the peach-and-cream kitchen, she flicked on the light, started her espresso machine, then peeled back toward her bedroom, mentally cataloguing what she still had to do. She needed coffee, her hair brushed, an apple for the road, and yeah, something to wear above the waist. She never wore a uniform-if you were going to dress for success with kids, you wore jeans and no symbols or labels to put them off-but that wasnt to say she could arrive at a crash site topless. There were times she fantasized about giving Wayne an attack of apoplexy-God knew her boss was a hard-core chauvinist-but not today.
She pulled a sports bra over her head, burrowed in a drawer for an old black sweaterthen jerked her head up again.
Damn. Somewhere there was a sound. An off-kilter, didnt-belong-in-her-house sound. A puppy crying? A cat lost in the neighborhood somewhere nearby?
Silently, still listening, she straightened the sweater, pulled on socks, shoved her feet into boots, grabbed a brush. Her hair looked like a squirrels nest, but then thats how it looked when it was freshly styled, too. A glance at her face in the bathroom mirror somehow, inexplicably, made her think of Justin againand that dream in which his gaze had been all over her naked body.
She scowled in the mirror. First, strange dreams, then strange sounds-shed seemed to wake up in la la land today, and on a morning when she needed to be her sharpest.
Swiftly she thumbed off the light and started hustling for real. In the kitchen, she poured coffee, then backtracked to the hall closet for her jacket, scooping up the stuff she needed: car keys, an apple, a lid for her espresso, some money for lunch. Almost the minute she finished collecting her debris, her feet seemed to be instinctively making a detour. One minute. Thats all she needed to check all the rooms and make absolutely positive that nothing was making that odd sound from inside the house. It wasnt as if she lived in a mighty mansion that would take hours to check out. Her ranch-style house was downright miniscule-but it was hers. Hers and the banks, anyway.