The warmth of her house seemed to help him relax. Finally he talked of his day, but it sounded more like a report than conversation. When she did not add much he went back to watching her. She could almost read his thoughts. She wasn't his type. He looked like he counted the minutes until he could say good-night.

"Help yourself to a beer," she said with her back to him as she pulled food from the oven.

"Beer? Mrs. Allen? Are you telling me teachers are allowed beer?"

She glanced in his direction. "Do I need an ID?"

He smiled. "Wearing that Texas Tech T-shirt you look almost young enough to card. But no, you're old enough." He reached for two longnecks and leaned back against the counter as he opened them.

Meredith walked past him delivering food to the table. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Smells good."

She almost asked if he was talking about the food or her.

"And peaceful here," he added. "Or maybe it's not the place but you that makes everything seem in order."

She knew what he meant. They were not playing games; they were simply becoming friends. They were just two people about to have a meal. Then he would go on his way and the next time he saw her in the hallway at the courthouse, they might talk a little longer than before. Maybe they would ask about more personal things than the weather, like "Did you have a nice weekend?" or "Hope you haven't caught the flu going around this season."

"I made barbecue." She broke into his thoughts. "I hope you like it."

"Sounds fine," he mumbled before taking a drink of the beer.

She watched him run his hand though his hair, as if pushing memories aside and relaxing.

Meredith reached into the oven for the pan of rolls. The crocheted pot holder slipped in her hand. She jumped backward, trying to avoid the pan hitting her legs and feet.

A second later, her elbow struck the beer in Granger's hand. He let it fall as he grabbed her around the waist to steady her.

Beer and dinner rolls hit the floor, splattering and turning everywhere. He pulled her close, leaning back against the bar as they watched the mess collect at their feet.

It took her a moment to realize she was in his arms. Her body pressed against the length of him, warming him after his cold day. He suddenly felt better than he had in a long time.

All she had to do was step away. His hands at her waist only steadied her. She was not the kind of woman to flirt, much less come on to a man. But she did not want to move away. She wanted to stay if only for a few more minutes. She could feel his breath and his heart pounding.

The beer slowly dripped on the floor, but neither reached down to clean it up.

Move, she shouted inside her mind, but her body didn't cooperate. Step away and act like this didn't happen. But to the very core of her being Meredith knew she did not want to move away. She wanted to be even closer.

The sheriff also seemed to be struggling. All he had to do was say "Pardon me" and walk to the other side of the bar, then they could both pretend she had not been so close. They could avoid each other's eyes and act as if they had never touched. In time, maybe they would forget.

But to start the process of forgetting, one of them had to move.

She felt his fingers pressing against her shirt. The need to touch must be as strong inside him as it was in her.

He moved his hand down her body and took her hand. Lifting her fingers up, he whispered, "Are you burned?"

Slowly, he turned her hand over.

"No," she answered. She moved her fingers into his hair as she had seen him do only moments before. "I'm all right. Don't worry about me."

Granger spread his hands along her middle. The feel of her seemed to feed the hunger of a lifetime. "You are far more than all right, Meredith."

She heard the evening news coming from the small set in the living room. The smell of beer blended with the barbecue aroma. Yet everything seemed faraway except her sense of touch.

He slipped his hand beneath her shirt and brushed the band of her jeans and the skin just above.

This could not be real, she told herself. Nothing like this had ever happened before in her life. He was not the kind of man who flirted or who women talked about. And she was a good woman no one ever spread rumors about.

And right now, the good woman was silently telling him what she wanted. They might have trouble talking, but he had no problem understanding what she was trying to communicate.

She wanted to be touched.

He moved his hand to the warmth of her middle, and she leaned her head back against his shoulder. With trembling fingers, she guided his touch higher.

Her brain pounded with all the reasons why she should stop as his fingers pushed aside her bra and closed around her breast.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"I'm sure," she whispered as she stretched and let his other hand slide down the front of her jeans. "And you?"

"I-I'm not a big enough liar to tell you I want to stop, Meredith. If your wanting to be with me is just a stage of the grief you are going through, I'll still be here, but I'd like to know from the first. Because my wanting to be with you has nothing to do with anyone else but you."

Meredith smiled. "I'm not sure what you are, Sheriff, but you're not some therapy I'm taking." She leaned closer and pressed her lips against his throat.

He undressed her slowly, then led her into the bedroom. She felt him watch her as she climbed on the bed and lay down atop the covers. There was no fear or doubt or hesitation in her, only need. He undressed and folded his clothes on the room's only chair.

He pulled the thin white ribbon from her hair and twisted it in his hand. Somehow the action was more intimate than removing her clothes. His hand, half-covered in white satin, slid over her full hips.

"I don't like to be touched when I'm making love," he said as his hand stilled, waiting for her response.

"All right," she answered.

He moved his fingers down her body.

She kept her arms at her sides making no attempt to reach for him.

His hands brushed over her, boldly caressing. There was no need to kiss her, or to say anything. They had gone beyond any game of seduction in one move.

She closed her eyes and grinned as he explored her curves. For the first time in her life lovemaking was all about her. And the knowledge of it being so made her almost explode with joy.

"Say my name," he insisted above her. "I need to know that you know it's me here with you."

"Make love to me, Granger." She read his mind. "No one but you."

He made love to her more completely than she ever imagined a man could make love to a woman. He treated her as a gift that had been handed to him. He could not get enough of her. He was gentle and kind and starved for the feel of her.

She kept her hands at her sides, but moved with him, gently pressing close. Without any words, she knew what he wanted, what he needed. She made no sounds of passion.

The air was warm and still and quiet around them as if brand-new. No mood music, no candles. Only Granger's arms.

She never tried to be shy or coy. She offered her body to him, honestly, completely. And he took her in the only way he knew how, completely.

It was after midnight when he moved his hand along her body, damp with perspiration. "I have to go," he whispered against her ear.

She did not answer, and he slipped away from her side. She fell asleep listening to him dress.

November 7

Clifton Creek Elementary


Meredith did not allow herself to think about what had happened until midafternoon the next day. She got up late and rushed to get to school before the students. Her tardiness was easily explained away by the weather. Then, from the moment she entered her classroom, she was too busy to think of anything but her job.

Finally, when the students were all wrapped in wool and sent home, she sat behind her cluttered desk and stared out at the snow swirling across the playground equipment. She had never done anything in her life as crazy as what she did last night with the sheriff. She hoped people would not see it on her face. She would not have been surprised if the school billboard had announced her affair, instead of next Tuesday's PTA meeting. It should have said something like Second-Grade Teacher Has Wild Night With Town Sheriff. Details To Follow.

People do not just go around bumping into one another and making love. Or at least until last night, she never thought they did. She had never even had a conversation longer than a few sentences with the man, and last night she had let him touch her all over.

At the thought, Meredith blushed. All over, she repeated in her mind.

She had wanted to lose all control, or maybe hand it over to someone else for a change. That must have been her plan, only she could not remember thinking it. And he certainly took control, leaving her free to float. She got what she asked for, but more than she had known to expect.

She put her head in her hands. Nothing made sense. What if he told someone? Gossip like this would spread so fast. They would be pointed at, talked about in whispers, joked about.

Meredith reconsidered. Of course, he would never tell anyone. They were not in high school.

The vision of Granger sitting around the Pancake House with all the old farmers swapping stories made her laugh.

Ridiculous, she thought. People have affairs all the time.

Affair.

Her forehead hit the desk. This was not an affair.

Oh, God, it was a one-night stand. She had been a onenight stand. She thumped her head once more on the desk, thinking it was too late for her to do any brain damage. One night too late.