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the briefcase he’d carried inside with him and shook hands with the sheriff. “Thanks a lot for your help. I’ll be hanging around here for a while, doing more research.”
    “I’d be obliged if you’d share with me whatever you find out.”
    “No problem.”
    As long as it doesn’t interfere with my investigation. This beast is mine when I run it to ground.

Chapter Three
     
    Dakota carried her groceries into the cabin and began to put them away, her mind still racing. Ever since she’d bumped into him at the café she’d been completely rattled with no idea why. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen good-looking men before. At twenty-eight she’d had plenty of them come on to her during market days. Of course by now she was aware they were only interested in who could brag about “fucking the crazy lady”. The very few times she’d let herself go had proven disastrous, so she tried to imagine every man she came across as uglier than a mud fence.
    But there was something about this one…
    She was no little package, standing five nine in bare feet, but this man towered over her. Thick black hair peeped out from beneath his Stetson to touch the collar of his shirt and the shirt and worn jeans hugged a lean, broad-shouldered body. Maybe it was his eyes that got her. Silver, like polished nickel, with lighter gray highlights. A ruggedly masculine face defined by thick eyebrows and equally thick black lashes.
    Why the hell was she noticing him, anyway?
    She sighed as she emptied the last of her canvas bags, folded them and stowed them in a cupboard. For the first time the silence of the cabin disturbed her. Usually it was soothing, peaceful, her refuge from the outside world. Today the absence of sound made her jittery. She turned on the television—her one real extravagance—and found a channel that didn’t offend her too much. She no longer watched the news or talk shows, and soap operas weren’t her thing, so sometimes her choices were limited.
    She was about to throw a load of laundry in her mini-washer when she heard a noise outside, the screech of an animal that set her teeth on edge. Picking up her shotgun, she cocked it and eased open the front door. She swiveled her head left and right, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from but absolutely nothing looked disturbed.
    Standing completely still in the doorway, she waited for the noise to repeat itself but it never happened. Something rustled in the wild grasses, startling her, and two squirrels dashed across the front yard, chasing each other.
    Dakota let out the breath she’d been holding and was about to step back inside when she heard the rumble of a vehicle on her almost-road.
    What now?
    She kept the shotgun tucked in the crook of her arm as a pickup emerged from the cloud of dust it was pushing ahead of it and pulled into the bare spot in front of the cabin. Who would be coming here? No one ever came to the cabin. They visited her booth during Market Days or placed orders for her potions and salves in town with Muriel at The Daisy Chain. But come out here where she lived? Never. She swallowed back the sudden burst of anxiety and settled her hands more firmly on the shotgun. Her knees nearly buckled when the truck pulled to a stop, the door opened and the stranger from the café climbed out. An invisible charge of electricity zapped between them, the air suddenly filled with it.
    Oh, god. Just what she needed. Not only didn’t she want visitors, she didn’t want men . Her forays into sexual relationships had been disappointing and unsatisfying. She’d finally decided she was better off taking care of herself.
    Now here he was, bring an aura of sexual electricity with him.
    Shit!
    He looked around, his head turning from one side to the other before he started toward her. He walked with animal grace, a fluid movement of legs and hips. As he drew closer he smiled at her, but there was little humor in it and she had the feeling he could be a