Driven to Distraction (Silhouette Desire S.) by Sheri Whitefeather, Dixie Browning Page A

walk into this thing cold, I checked it out with a reputable source.”
    She nodded knowingly. “Reporters have sources, too. I could do some more checking if it would help.” Not even to herself would she admit to being disappointed. He’d led her out into the moonlight to talk to her about teaming up. Could she help it if her imagination had slipped its leash for a moment? “All right, so exactly what is you want me to do?”
    â€œJust keep your ears open, that’s all for now, and if Silver comes on to you, give him the brush-off. I want him to go after the older women, they’re his real target. Before any damage gets done, I’ll have him cold.”
    Avoiding the shadowy swing, Maggie sank down into one of the cane rockers. It was already damp with dew. “That’s it? You can actually arrest him for trying to talk people into buying his art?” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, Ben…”
    Ben didn’t know either. It wasn’t like him to jump on his horse and ride wildly off in all directions without so much as a roadmap. It’s just that when he’d realized that his own grandmother had been taken in by a scam artist, he’d seen red. Not until he’d signed up for this wingding and written a hefty check did it dawn on him that he couldn’t just haul the guy in for making a sales pitch, even if he caught him in a flat-out lie. Fraud could be tricky as hell to prove. Not only was he out of his element with this art business, he was out of his territory.
    Didn’t even have a territory, for that matter.
    â€œIt’s a work in progress, okay?” he said. “I’ll think of something.” He blew out a frustrated sigh,then inhaled deeply, aware of the heavy scent of the purple blossoms and the lighter fragrance of the woman beside him. “So, will you help me out here?”
    He couldn’t have felt more helpless if he’d been fifty miles out in the flats with a lame horse and no cell phone. Not that he hadn’t worked with a partner before—he had. But this time his so-called partner wasn’t a cop, and he didn’t actually need her help. What he’d wanted to do when he’d led her out in the moonlight was kiss the living daylights out of her and go from there. Fortunately, after one brief sample, he’d had sense enough to back off. There was something about Maggie Riley that didn’t add up. Whatever it was, it shorted out his brain and sparked a major reaction below the belt at a time when he needed all his powers of concentration.
    Whatever else she was, Riley was a major distraction.
    Touching his toe to the porch rail, he set the rocker in motion. A month ago he’d been holed up in an unused lineshack on a friend’s ranch, firing off letters to the Attorney General’s office, half expecting a sawed-off shotgun to poke through the door at any moment. Shoot, shovel and shut-up. It wouldn’t be the first time a lawman had disappeared when he’d stumbled into something he wasn’t supposed to see.
    Maggie’s voice came out of the shadows, yanking him back to the present. “The thing is,” she said, “I sort of have my own mission.”
    â€œYou’re covering it for your paper? You said you were a journalist, right?” He was sitting far enough away so that there was no danger of touching her. It didn’t help a whole lot.
    â€œWell, that, too. I mean, I’d planned to write about it, but that’s not why I’m here.”
    â€œIf you’re wanting to learn how to paint, Janie says Silver’s a better teacher than he is a painter. She says he’s even a pretty good painter if you happen to like his style. From what I’ve seen, he paints the same scene, just rearranging the parts and changing the sky a little.”
    â€œShe’s your special friend, right?”
    Was that a wishful question? Ben stopped