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he
tipped the gun toward the ground.  "Sorry."  She tried to look
chastised, but she'd actually hit her target.
    Her grin resurfaced as she focused on the second
can.  She fired.  "Crap," she mumbled under her breath.  She fired
again, and the rusty can sailed high over the fence.  Yes.  The next two also took
her a couple of times, but she hit the fifth one with her first attempt.
    "Ha," she said as she glanced over
her shoulder.  "I can shoot."
    He approached wearing a contagious grin.  "You
sure can."  He took the gun from her and holstered it, before he continued
toward the fence.  He hopped it, his moves sure and strong.  She knew he'd done
it to impress her…and it had.  He replaced the coffee cans and jumped the fence
again, walking toward her, his gaze holding hers, with a smile that said he
knew she couldn't help but watch.
    He handed the gun to her, giving her a sexy, sideways
glance.  "Go again, hot shot."
    She fired off several more rounds.  Hitting
some and missing more than she'd like.  Each time she finished, he hopped the
fence and then swaggered back to her with a sexy grin.  Each time, increasing
the heat building inside her.  She wasn't quite sure what was going on between
them, but she was definitely more entertained than she'd been in the previous
places Quinn had placed her.
    By the time she finished her tenth round, he
called it quits.  "I'm tired of playing fetch for you, darlin'.  Let's
call it a day."
    "Really?"  She frowned.  "I was
just getting good at it."
    "You definitely have a shooter's eye."
    "I don't need you to set up the cans.  I
can do that."  She shrugged.  It was no big deal.  She'd just enjoyed
watching his muscles flex as he jumped the fence.  Having a man around to do
her bidding had been rather pleasant, but she could do this for herself.
    He walked closer, stopping just feet from her,
tilting his head so he faced her dead on.  Her pulse paused and then sprinted. 
He held her gaze as he reached between them.  She shifted a nervous glance
downward to see him working the buckle on his holster.  She looked up, the
happiness inside her flipping into a smile.
    He removed his holster.  He broke eye contact
with her as he slid the leather strap around her waist, his fingers grazing the
skin near her belly button.  She was suddenly glad she hadn't changed out of
her tank top like she'd planned.  It was an innocent touch, but she liked the
sizzle he left on her skin.
    She'd done an excellent job in the years since Danny's
death keeping men at arm's length.  She'd convinced herself she didn't want or
need a man's touch to be happy.  She certainly didn't want to risk someone's
life by falling in love.  But this attraction and playfulness was kind of fun,
and if her father knew, it would really piss him off.
    She wasn't sure why flirting with Milo held
such appeal for her.  Deputy Sykes had something about him that had snuck over
or around her protective emotional walls, and she wasn't certain she cared. 
She'd only known him a few hours, but he'd charmed her to the point she couldn't
stop flirting with him.
    She glanced at his face as he tightened the
buckle around her.  Light brown stubble scattered along his jawline, giving him
a rugged, sexy look.  A small scar dipped into one side of his top lip.  Lips
that were full and tempting, and really only inches from hers.
    She sighed and moved her gaze to his eyes,
surprised to find him watching her.
    "Is this okay?"
    More than okay.  "The belt?"
    "The tightness."  He tugged on the
leather around her waist.  "It doesn't feel like it's going to fall off,
does it?"
    She gratefully escaped his vivid stare for a moment
while she gave the belt a tug.  "Feels great—fine," she stammered.  "It's
not going to fall off."
    She glanced back, his intriguing orbs a point
of distribution for the awareness that coursed through her body.  He held her
gaze as though he, too, knew they were communicating on more than