Cowboy with a Cause by Carla Cassidy Page B

years of her dancing career, an injury that would keep her from teaching, from loving.
    She was still sketching at the kitchen table when Adam entered the house close to five o’clock. Just the sight of him in his worn, tight jeans and long-sleeved navy polo shirt set off that crazy yearning inside her, a yearning she battled with a stir of anger.
    “Did you use my teakettle this morning?” she asked as she closed the sketchbook in front of her.
    He looked at her in surprise. “No. I don’t drink hot tea. Why?”
    “I found my teakettle in the upper cabinet and I thought maybe you’d used it and had forgotten to put it back where it belonged.”
    He held up both hands. “I swear, I’m innocent. Did you ask Tilly?”
    “She hasn’t been in today,” Melanie replied.
    He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a cold soda, and when he turned to face her, a touch of humor lit his eyes. “Ah, so what we have here is the case of the misplaced teakettle. What are your thoughts, Watson?”
    Her mood lightened. “My thoughts are why do you get to be Sherlock and I just get to be your sidekick?”
    He pretended to stroke a beard thoughtfully. “Because I’m the one thinking about a career in law enforcement. Besides, if I get a motorcycle, you can ride in my sidecar, thus making you my sidekick.”
    She gave a mock groan at his ridiculous rationale and realized that she’d missed his company over the last couple of days. “Have you eaten?” she asked.
    “No. What about you?” He remained leaning against the refrigerator door, looking so handsome he half stole her breath away.
    “Not since lunch.”
    “How about I throw a couple of steaks under the broiler and you can make a salad?” he suggested.
    “Sounds like a plan,” she agreed.
    For the next half an hour they bustled around the kitchen with an easy camaraderie, which chased away any earlier loneliness Melanie might have felt.
    Adam was such fun. He made a big production of seasoning the steaks, as if he were a master chef. She found herself laughing over and over again at his antics.
    Once the meal was ready, they sat across from each other at the table and talked about family and growing up in Grady Gulch.
    “Growing up in Grady Gulch was like being in Mayberry,” he said.
    She nodded, knowing exactly what he was talking about. “There was an innocence, as if we were all invincible against the kind of crime and evil we heard about on the news. I remember leaving the house after dinner and not coming back until the lightning bugs started flickering, and I was never afraid.”
    “Everyone knew everyone else and I wouldn’t have understood the concept of stranger danger.” He cut into his thick, juicy steak.
    “It’s sad that the murders have destroyed an innocence that might have still been here,” she replied.
    “It’s tragic,” he agreed.
    “And the sad part is that once that innocence has been shattered, you never really get it back.” She sighed. “It would just be nice if Cameron could get the bad guy off the streets for good.”
    “Maybe he needs Sherlock on his team,” Adam said teasingly.
    “With his sidekick, Watson,” she added.
    Their lighthearted conversation continued as they cleaned up the kitchen and then moved to the living room.
    It was just after nine when she called it a night. Not so much because she was tired, but rather because she realized she was enjoying his company far too much.
    She hadn’t forgotten how his mouth had felt over hers, and the longer she spent with him, the more she wanted him to kiss her again. Definitely time to call an end to the night when those kinds of thoughts refused to get out of her head.
    “Thanks for the great steak,” she said as they made their way to the foot of the stairs.
    “Thanks for the great company,” he replied, his gaze far too warm as it lingered on her.
    “Good night, Adam,” she said firmly and wheeled backward in an effort to circumvent anything else that