Free Wickedly Dangerous by Deborah Blake Page B

because that is what you do when you love someone. But she couldn’t be strong for him. Or even for herself, more’s the pity. And then she was gone, swallowed up in an ocean of secrets and lies, and he vowed never again. Never again. And meant it.
    As much as he missed sex, nothing was worth putting himself through that kind of pain and betrayal again. And being a sheriff in a small town meant he couldn’t exactly get away with temporary, meaningless liaisons, even if that were his style, which it wasn’t.
    So why did his fingers itch to run themselves through the silken length of that dark hair every time he saw it? Why did he catch himself staring at her lips, her eyes, the sway of her hips? It’s like that feeling you get when you stand at the top edge of a tall, tall building . . . that momentary urge to step into the abyss, and see what it would be like to fall, and keep on falling. And to hell with the crash that would hit you at the bottom.
    â€œSheriff?” An amused-sounding voice cut into his reverie.
    God, he had to get more sleep.
    â€œRight. First question,” he said after a brief pause. “Have you lied to me?” Liam felt as though the world was holding its breath as he waited for the answer; although why he thought she would tell him the truth now if she hadn’t before, he wasn’t sure. Even so, for whatever reason, he believed she would stick to their bargain.
    Baba gazed at him steadily, amber eyes clear and guileless. “Not nearly as much as you think I have, and not about anything important.”
    A weedy teenager approached the table with a quarter in his outstretched hand, ready to put it in the slot that would reserve the next game for him. A frown and a minute shake of the head from Liam sent him scuttling toward one of the other tables. Liam turned the look on Baba, who wasn’t nearly as easy to intimidate, unfortunately. Apparently that was all the answer he was going to get from her on that subject.
    Fine.
    He walked around the table, ostensibly gauging his next shot, and ended up standing close enough to feel the heat of her skin. The room held six tables, and maybe twenty people, but for a moment, it seemed as though they were alone, held in isolation by a bubble of reality in which only the two of them existed.
    His voice was low and serious. “Second question: what are you
really
doing in this area?”
    She took a long swallow of beer before saying in a matterof-fact tone, “I came because Mariska Ivanov called me for help in finding her granddaughter.” A tiny smile flickered on and off like a lightbulb in an electrical storm. “But there
are
some very interesting plants growing in Clearwater County, so I didn’t lie when I said that was why I was here. I just didn’t tell you the entire truth.”
    Huh.
Liam rocked back on his heels; whatever he’d been expecting, that hadn’t been it. “I didn’t realize you knew the Ivanovs,” he said, trying to figure out if he believed this any more than he did her previous story.
    â€œI don’t,” Baba said in a calm tone. “But I like Belinda, and I want to help.”
    Liam was confused. “Are you some kind of private detective?”
    â€œNot at all,” she said, gesturing at the table and the cue he was holding. “I’m a professor and an herbalist. Were you going to take another shot anytime soon?”
    He drew in a deep breath through his nose, trying to curb the impulse to strangle her with her own flowing locks.
Odd, mysterious, and infuriating
. The woman was going to drive him insane. Even when she was telling the truth, he couldn’t get a straight answer out of her.
    He bent over the table, and said without looking at her, “You need to stay out of police business,
Professor
Yager. Stick to your herbs. I’ll take care of Belinda and her family.”
    â€œReally?” Baba drew out the word