Big Sky Standoff. B.J. Daniels

knew he couldn’t hesitate. Not even an instant. The moment he saw the rustler he would have to shoot. Shoot to kill if the individual was armed. He’d never killed a man. Today could change that.

      As Tom Robinson moved through the trees at the edge of a small clearing, he heard a horse whinny off to his left, and spun in that direction, his finger on the trigger.

      The moment he saw the animal, and the empty saddle, he realized the mistake he’d made. He spun back around and came face-to-face with the trespasser. Shocked both by who it was and by the tree limb in the man’s hands, Tom hesitated an instant too long before pulling the trigger.

      The shot boomed among the trees, echoing over the rocks, the misguided bullet burying itself in the bark of a pine off to the trespasser’s left.

      It happened so fast, Tom didn’t even realize he’d fired. He barely felt the blow to his head as the man swung the thick limb like a baseball bat. Instead, Tom just heard a sickening thud as the limb struck his temple, felt his knees give out under him and watched in an odd fascination as the dried needles on the ground came up to meet his face, just before everything went black.

      JACKLYN WILDE STARTED at the sound of a knock on the hall door to her motel room. “Delivery.”

      She sat up in confusion, horrified to realize that she’d dozed off. After the phone call from Stratton, she’d lain down for only a minute, but must have fallen asleep.

      She rushed to the receiver terminal, half expecting to see that Dillon was no longer in his room.

      But the steady beep assured her he was right next door. Or at least his tracking device was.

      She thought about knocking on his door to check, using the food as an excuse. But instead she went to tip the deliveryman, closing her door behind him.

      As she placed the Chinese food sacks on the table in the corner of her room, she heard a soft tap on the door between their rooms.

      “Dinner’s here,” she called in response. Unconsciously, she braced herself as he stepped into her room.

      His hair was wet and curled at his neck, his face flushed from his bath, and he smelled better than sweet and sour shrimp any day of the week. On top of that, he looked so happy and excited that anyone with a heart would have felt something as he made a beeline for the food.

      She knew she was considered cold and heartless with no feelings, especially the female kind. It made it easier in her line of work to let everyone think that.

      But how could she not be moved to see Dillon like a kid in a candy store as he opened each of the little white boxes, making delighted sounds and breathing in the scent of each, all the time flashing that grin of his?

      “I can’t believe this. I think you got all my favorites,” he said, turning that grin on her. “You must have read my mind.” The look in his eyes softened, taking all the air from the room.

      She turned away and pretended to look in her suitcase for something.

      “Come on,” he said. “Let’s eat while it’s hot. Work can wait. Can’t it?”

      She pulled out the map she’d planned to show him later, and glanced toward the small table in the corner and Dillon. “Go ahead and start.”

      He shook his head. “My mother taught better than that.”

      Reluctantly, she joined him as he began to dish up the rice. “I just want a little sweet and sour shrimp.”

      He looked up. “You can’t be serious. Who’s going to eat all this?”

      She couldn’t help her smile. “I figured you would. You did say you’ve been starved for Chinese food.”

      His grateful expression was almost her undoing—and his subsequent vulnerability as well. He ducked his head as if overcome with emotions he didn’t want her to see, and spooned sweet and sour shrimp onto a plate for her.

      She made a job of putting the map on the chair beside her, giving him a moment. Maybe she’d underestimated what four years in prison had done to him. Or what it must be like for him to be out.

      When she looked up, however, there was no sign of anything on his face except a brilliant smile as he dished up his own plate. She warned herself not to be taken in by any of his antics as she took a bite of her meal and watched him do the same.

      He closed his eyes and moaned softly. She tried to ignore him as she pretended to study the map on the chair next to her while she nibbled her food.

      “You have to try this.”

      Before she could react, he reached across the table and shoved a forkful of something at her. Instinctively, she opened her mouth.

      “Isn’t that amazing?” he asked as he intently watched her chew.

      It was amazing. Spicy, but not too hot. “Which one is that?” she asked, just to break the tense quiet in the room as he stared at her.

      “Orange-peel beef.” He was already putting some on her plate. “And wait until you try this.” He started toward her with another forkful.

      She held up her hand, more than aware of how intimate it was to be fed by a man. She was sure Dillon Savage was aware of it, too. “Really, I—” But the fork had touched her lips and her mouth opened again.

      As he dragged the fork away slowly, she felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with the spicy food.

      She met his gaze and felt a chill run the length of her spine. The smile on his lips, the teasing tilt of his head, couldn’t hide what was deep in those pale blue eyes.

      She had forgotten that she’d been the one to put him behind bars, but clearly, Dillon Savage had not.