LITMIR.BIZ

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was surprised to hear Junior so adamant, but then again, she knew he liked her and was probably just being chivalrous. The sheriff didn’t seem to notice or care that he had upset Junior.

      She watched Seth’s inky-black eyes go from Junior’s up-turned red face to the box she was guarding with the weight of her foot. “I’ll take care of the mouse,” Seth assured Junior. “You go on home now, but be careful out on the highway. Those roads are mighty slick.”

      “Yes, sir,” Junior said, deflated, then in a brighter tone he added, “Bye, Savannah.”

      “Bye, Junior,” she called over her shoulder. To Seth, she said, “Do your civic duty. Please.”

      “Where’s the top of the box?” Seth asked, shrugging out of his jacket.

      Savannah’s mind threatened to go blank as she took in his broad shoulders, trim waist and uniform. She never would have pegged herself as a sucker for a man in uniform, but she was wrong. Seth Landry was an incredible blend of dark, dangerous and delightful. Too bad her life in Jasper was temporary.

      Too bad he hasn’t technically cleared me as a suspect in Richard Fowler’s murder.

      “The top?” Seth prompted.

      “On—on the bed,” she stammered.

      Being in Savannah’s bedroom made Seth a little uncomfortable. What should have been an investigation was quickly turning into an inventory. The room was neat as a pin and incredibly feminine. The subtle scent of flowers hung in the air. Candles adorned nearly every inch of the bedroom and what he could see of the open bathroom. Even though he knew better, he could just imagine the reflection of candlelight in her eyes. Savannah had the most incredible eyes. They tried to be brown, but somehow managed to be blue near the pupil. Her face was on the square side, but that just made her full lips seem invitingly pouty.

      Like most doctoral candidates he’d met, she had a penchant for wearing casual clothing. Only, she wore tight casual clothing. He knew it was the style. He also knew that when he returned to the kitchen, he’d have to pretend not to notice that her shape-hugging sweater fell just shy of the waistband of her jeans. He couldn’t notice that she worked out enough to have a perfectly toned midriff, or that her belly button was pierced with a small gold ring.

      Hell, he had to pretend that Savannah wasn’t his ideal woman. Or that he thought of her often. Too often. It could jeopardize his professional integrity, something he had never done.

      “What are you doing in there?” Savannah called. “Going through my panty drawer? Isn’t that illegal?”

      Seth put on his game face and returned to the main room. “It isn’t illegal if I have your permission,” he offered with a wicked smile.

      “Dream on,” she said with a laugh.

      “Stay still until I tell you to move,” Seth instructed. He bent next to her leg with the box top in his hand. Because she was so petite, he found himself eye-level with her bared skin. She smelled clean, fresh. He would only have to turn his head a fraction of an inch and his lips would be against the gentle curve of her waist.

      “You should have warned me that this was going to be a long-term rescue effort,” Savannah teased.

      Seth put his libido in his back pocket and managed to trap the mouse inside the closed box. He smiled when he saw how frightened she was, even with the little thing safely inside the box.

      “Now what?” he asked.

      “Free him,” Savannah insisted with conviction.

      Seth sighed. “I know you’re new to Jasper, so you must not know that this little guy came in here to keep from freezing to death outside.”

      The way she wrinkled her nose was adorable. It was just another of her quirks that he tucked away in his mind.

      “What do I do, then?”

      “You could get a cage and some feed and…”

      “I don’t do roommates, Sheriff,” she said. “Especially furry ones that aren’t house-trained and eat trash.”

      No roommates? He added that to his list. “I’ll take care of it,” he offered.

      Her expression brightened just as the reflection of sunlight filtered inside, painting her shoulder-length brunette hair with auburn highlights.

      “You’re going to take care of it?” Savannah fairly gasped. “As in, a favor?”

      Seth shrugged. “Sure. I’ll run him out to the Bronco for now so we can talk, and take him to the Lucky 7 on my way back to the office.”

      “You’re taking him to your ranch? As a pet for Kevin?”

      Seth blinked and Savannah blushed.

      He allowed his mouth to curve into a slow grin. “Been checking up on me Miss Wyatt?”

      Her lips pursed momentarily. “No,” she insisted firmly. “Working part-time at Olive’s Attic, I meet people. People tend to gossip about the richest family in town. By the way, how is Callie feeling?”

      “Fine,” Seth answered, hiding his disappointment. He wished she would show half the interest in him that she did on his brother Sam and Sam’s expectant wife, Callie. Even before the first murder, he’d felt as if he were invisible to Savannah. He didn’t like that feeling. Not at all.

      “She’ll tell you she feels like a whale, but I think pregnancy agrees with her.”

      He watched as something flashed in Savannah’s kaleidoscope eyes. It wasn’t long enough for him to get a read, so he had nothing to add to his list but a suspicion that babies, pregnancies, family—something along those lines—made her react, even if she was a master at hiding most of her reactions. Maybe today, with the new development, her facade would crumble.

      After Seth had taken the mouse out to his car, he returned, walking in without knocking. That didn’t seem to bother Savannah. She was standing in the living area, between a sofa covered with various warm throws and a coffee table made out of what looked like a portion of a wooden feed trough with a custom-cut glass top. When he took a second to glance around, he realized her place was homey in a funky, New Yorkish way. She had the usual stuff, living room, dining room and kitchen furnishings. But it was what she didn’t have that tweaked his imagination. No photographs, nothing really personal in view. It was as if she hadn’t existed until this cabin, but he knew that wasn’t possible. He’d checked. Savannah was a transfer doctoral candidate from the University of Maryland. The dean of students at Montana West had verified all her paperwork and transfer credits.

      “Should I make coffee?”

      “Should you?” Seth countered.

      She stiffened, “I was offering.”

      Seth smiled. “No, an offer is, ‘May I make you some coffee?’”

      Reluctantly, she smiled, as well. “Fine. May I make some coffee?”

      “Please.”

      As she took down a grinder and retrieved a bag of whole beans, she asked, “Are you the resident grammar fairy? If so, you’re welcome to critique my thesis. If I ever get it finished.”

      “I’m not a grammar anything. My momma just insisted that all her boys be polite, especially to women.” He let that sink in for a minute, then said, “Your thesis is on forensic psychology, right?”

      Savannah turned and gave him a cool smile. “I keep forgetting that after Richard was killed, you investigated every aspect of my life.”

      “It’s my job,” Seth said somberly.

      “If you’re not here to arrest me for Richard’s murder, would you kindly take an ad out in the town paper proclaiming my innocence? I’ve found Jasper a little slow to warm to outsiders, and labeling me a murder suspect isn’t helping.”

      “I’m

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