The doorbell rang.

She pushed back from the desk and wandered through the sprawling house to the front door. Glancing in the intricate window set in the middle, she groaned. Then she pulled open the door. “Hi, Joan.”

Joan Daniels opened her mouth and closed it quickly. She stood on the porch, casserole dish in hand. A low-cut blouse enhanced impressive breasts. Her jeans were tight enough they had to be cutting off oxygen to her feet, which were crammed into four-inch heels. “Hi, Juliet. Is Quinn home?”

“No.” Ingrained manners forced Juliet to step aside. “Would you like to come inside?”

“Sure.” Joan drifted by in a rose-scented cloud. She’d piled her blond hair high in a series of tumbling curls to compliment sultry and dark makeup. She sauntered through the hallway and into the kitchen as if she’d been there many times. “I brought dinner for Quinn as a thank-you for rescuing me from a wild cougar the other night.” She set the dish on the granite island. “He had to come out late at night.”

“I know.” Juliet slid her polite smile into place, wondering who’d save the sheriff from the cougar now in his kitchen. “I was here when the call came in.”

“Oh.” Joan maneuvered around the island to perch on a bar stool. “Well, you’re not the first woman to spend time with the sheriff. He’s a handsome man.”

Had Joan “spent time” with Quinn? Juliet took the dish and placed it in the refrigerator. Hopefully the woman would leave since Quinn wasn’t home. Her manners got the better of her. “May I offer you something to drink?”

“Absolutely. He keeps Wallace Brewery beer on the bottom shelf.” Too many teeth flashed when Joan smiled. “I’d love one.”

Sure enough, there were several bottles of Pale Ale on the bottom shelf. Juliet grabbed two and handed one to Joan. Twisting off her cap, she shoved the fridge shut with her hip. “Cheers.”

Joan removed her cap and lifted her bottle. “Cheers.” She tipped back her head and took a healthy swallow. She hummed. “It’s so thoughtful of the sheriff to keep these in stock. He likes the Irish Red, you know.”

Actually, Juliet hadn’t known that. “Really? He always drinks Scotch when we’re out.”

Joan frowned. “I wonder why he’s so formal with you. The man likes beer.” She leaned forward, elbows on the counter, false interest in her eyes. “Maybe he’s not comfortable with you.”

Juliet took another sip. “I’ll have to ask him when he gets home tonight.”

Joan’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll both ask him.”

The doorbell rang. Again.

Juliet set her beer on the counter. “Excuse me.” She hustled through the hallway to the door. Hopefully Sophie or Jake had decided to drop by and check on her. She opened the door and smiled with every bit of manners she owned. “Hello, Amy. How nice to see you.”

Amy Nelson arched an eyebrow. “Where is the sheriff?”

“Out on a call.” Juliet stepped to the side, amusement and irritation battling for control inside her. “Would you like to come in? A neighbor and I are having a drink in the kitchen.”

“For a moment.” Amy swept by Juliet and headed down the hallway. She charged into the kitchen and zeroed in on Joan. “Hi. I’m Amy Nelson.”

“Joan Daniels.” Joan glanced at Amy’s dress. “That is a stunning dress.”

Juliet reached for her beer. The dress was stunning. Sparkling red, the material shimmered and hugged Amy’s curvy figure perfectly. “I agree.”

Amy smiled. “Thank you. We had a fund-raiser for my uncle on the north side of the county, and I introduced him before his speech.”

Juliet cleared her throat. “Amy’s uncle is the governor. He’s running for reelection.”

“As is Quinn.” Amy squinted at Juliet. “I’m here to talk to him about the rest of his campaign. The man needs to get smart and start campaigning.”

“Nobody can beat Quinn. I mean, he is our sheriff.” Joan finished off her beer.

“True.” Juliet gestured toward the bottle. “Would you like another?”

“Sure,” Joan said.

Juliet turned toward Amy. “Would you like a beer?”

“No, thank you.” Amy eyed the beer bottle like it might explode. “When will Quinn return?”

The doorbell rang. Again.

“Excuse me.” Juliet carried her beer down the hallway this time. “You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered. What other woman from Quinn’s not-so-distant past would be visiting now? She yanked opened the door and stopped short.

Loni Freeze and Leila Lodge stood on the porch, holding hands. Leila jumped up and down. “Hi, Juliet! Uncle Quinn said you’d be here.”

Juliet grinned. “Hi, Leila. Loni. There’s a small get-together in the kitchen. Come on in.”

“Whoo-hoo,” Leila yelped, releasing her grandmother to skip down the hall.

Loni crossed the threshold, her head tilted. “Quinn sent us to check on you. They’ve set Jacoby’s funeral for the day after tomorrow. Poor Melanie.”

Remembered sadness washed through Juliet. Being alone made the world a darker place. “But Melanie has you and your family, Loni. She’ll be all right.”

Loni slipped an arm around Juliet’s waist. “You have us, too. Don’t forget that.”

Temporarily, it felt nice to belong. “Thank you.”

They entered the kitchen as Leila dropped to one knee, her gaze on Amy’s sandals. “Are those Manolo Blahniks?”

“No.” Amy glanced down at the three-inch heels. “They’re Christian Louboutin.”

Leila gasped, her eyes widening. “They’re so pretty.” She stood and ran to her grandmother. “I love shoes.”

Loni ran a hand down Leila’s dark hair. “I know, sweetie. I do, too.” She glanced around the kitchen, a small smile playing on her face. “Well, this is nice, isn’t it?”

“Very.” Joan took a healthy swallow of her beer, her disgruntled gaze wandering again to Amy’s dress.

Juliet sipped more of her beer. The only thing missing from the party was—

The door to the garage opened, and Quinn Lodge stepped inside. He stopped, his gaze on the gathering of women. A laugh bubbled up in Juliet, but she quashed it. If a “holy shit” expression existed, Quinn was wearing it.

Leila leaped for him. He caught her easily against his chest and smacked a kiss on her forehead. “Hi, Uncle Quinn. Juliet’s having a party.”

Loni bustled forward and pecked him on the cheek. “We stopped by to keep Juliet company, and turns out she had some visitors. Isn’t this wonderful?”

He settled his hand on the butt of his gun in a natural pose. “Ah, yes. Very nice. I, ah, dropped by to grab the spotlight I left in my garage. There’s a wreck on the interstate.” He set Leila down, his gaze on Juliet. “I might be late.”

She nodded, her face heating. Maybe the blush resulted from Loni’s delighted grin. Maybe it resulted from the heat in Quinn’s gaze. Or maybe it resulted from the glares from the other two women in the room.

Quinn had already shut the door behind himself and escaped to the garage before she regained her voice.

…

Juliet awoke from a deep sleep to glance at Quinn’s bedside clock. Three in the morning. Something shuffled at the bathroom doorway, and Quinn strode into the room with that male grace she had begun to recognize.

She sat up and clicked on the lamp. “I’m awake.”

Wet hair curled around his ears, and he’d tied a towel around his masculine hips. Lines of exhaustion cut into the sides of his mouth, and dark stubble covered his chin. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“I didn’t even hear the shower.” She shoved curls out of her face. “You okay?”

“Fine.” He dropped the towel and slipped under the covers, reaching over his shoulder to turn off the lamp.

Instant heat radiated toward her. Should she go back to sleep? Perhaps give him some space?

He made up her mind for her by rolling onto his back and tugging her on top of him. Gentle hands smoothed the hair away from her face. “The wreck was a bad one, but the ambulance arrived in time. I think everyone might be all right.”

“Good.” She settled more comfortably against his hard body. Soft moonlight filtered in through the shades, and his eyes blazed through the dim. “You were gone a long time.”

“Just a couple of hours. After clearing the scene, I had two DV calls to take. I hate those.” His hand wandered down her back and cupped her butt.

Heat spiraled through her abdomen. “That means domestic violence, right?”

“Yep. Worse calls ever. I arrested several people tonight—both men and women.” He caressed her rear. “Let’s talk about something else. How long did your party last?”

A grin tickled her cheeks. “You mean the get-together of women who want Quinn Lodge? Everyone left after you made your appearance.”

He snorted. “Funny.”

“Not really.” She wiggled against his groin just enough to cause his eyes to flare. “This is an awkward question, but I feel the need to ask it. Are you, um, seeing either Joan or Amy?”

“No.” He tugged her T-shirt over her head, leaving her in flimsy panties. “I have never dated Joan but did have one unfortunate night with Amy about a year ago after a fund-raiser. We all make mistakes.”

Jealousy zinged in a weird electric arc into her heart. “She still likes you.”

“I like you.” His voice deepened to a dark tone that wandered right through her skin and warmed her. Everywhere.

“I like you, too.” She pressed a gentle kiss against his nose and then looked closer. “Is that a bruise on your chin?”

“Probably.” His hands flattened on her butt, pressing her onto his rapidly hardening cock. “One of the guys didn’t want to be cuffed. We, ah, scuffled.”

She took a deep breath, not really having considered the danger he faced every day. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”