“Why’s that?”
“You’ve spent more time with her than anybody else in town. We thought you might guess what her reaction will be.”
He studied her impassive features for a long moment. She was as sly as a fox. She hadn’t gotten as rich as she was by being dumb or careless. Reede liked her, always had. He slept with her on a regular basis to their mutual satisfaction. But he didn’t trust her.
Feeding someone like her too much information would not only be unethical, it would be just plain stupid. He had enough street smarts to know better, and it would take more than an extended viewing of her spectacular cleavage to loosen his tongue.
“Your guess is as good as mine how she’ll react,” he said noncommittally. “She probably won’t react at all.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I doubt she’ll pack her bags and head for Austin the minute she reads this.”
“Courageous, is she?”
Reede shrugged.
“Stubborn?”
He gave a sardonic smile. “You could say that, yeah. She’s damned stubborn.”
“I’m curious about this girl.”
“Why?”
“Because you frown every time her name comes up.” She sent another stream of acrid smoke ceilingward as she regarded him closely. “You’re frowning now, sugar.”
“Habit.”
“Does she look like her mother?”
“Not much,” he said shortly. “There’s a resemblance, that’s all.”
Her smile was slow, feline, crafty. “She bothers you, doesn’t she?”
“Hell, yes, she bothers me,” he shouted. “She’s trying to send me to prison. Wouldn’t that bother you?”
“Only if I was guilty.”
Reede clenched his teeth. “All right, I’ve read your letter and given you my opinion. Why don’t you haul your ass out of my house?”
Unperturbed by his anger, she leisurely ground out her cigarette in his tin ashtray and pulled her fur coat around her as she stood up. She gathered up her cigarettes, lighter, and the envelope addressed to Alex, and replaced them in her handbag. “I know from experience, Mr. Reede Lambert, that you think my ass is quite something.”
Reede’s temper abated. Laughing with chagrin, he squeezed a handful of fanny through her clothing
and snarled, “You’re right. It is.”
“Friends?”
“Friends.”
As they stood facing each other, she smoothed her hand down his belly and cupped his sex. It was full and firm, but unaroused. “It’s a cold night, Reede,” she said in a sultry voice. “Want me to stay?”
He shook his head. “We agreed a long time ago that in order to remain friends, I’d come to you to get laid.”
She drew a pretty frown. “Why’d we agree to that?”
“Because I’m the sheriff and you run a whorehouse.”