There'd been nothing he could do as she tiff to stop what happened inside that house, until the day she finally came into his office--bruised, beaten, terrified-to fill out a complaint.

There was little he could do now as sheriff but offer her friendship.

So he walked out the rear door, a casual smile on his face. "Hey, Cass."

Alarm came into her eyes first,-darkening that lovely gray. He was used to it, though it pained him immeasurably to know that she thought of him as the she tiff first--as authority,. as the bearer of trouble--before She thought of him as an old friend. But the smile came back more quickly than it once had, chasing the tension away from those delicate features.

"Hello, Devin." Calmly, because she was teaching herself to' be calm, she hooked a clothespin back on the line and began folding the sheet.

"Need some help?"

Before she could refuse, he was plucking clothespins. She simply couldn't get used to a man doing such things. Especially such a man. He was so. big. Broad shoulders, big hands, long legs. And gorgeous, of course. All the MacKades were.

There was something so male' about Devin, she couldn't really explain it. Even as he competently took linen from the line, folded it into the basket, he was all man. Unlike his deputies, he didn't wear the khaki uniform of his office, just jeans and a faded blue shirt rolled up to the elbows. There were muscles there, she'd seen them. And she had reason to be wary of a man's strength. But despite his big hands, his big shoulders, he'd never been anything but 'gentle. She tried to remember that as he brushed against her, . reaching for another clothespin.

Still, she stepped away, kept distance between them. He smiled at her, and she tried to think of s6something to say. It would. be easier if everything about him wasn't so . definite, she supposed. So vivid. His hair was as black as midnight, and curled over the frayed collar of his shirt. His eyes were as green as moss. Even the bones in his face were defined and impossible to ignore, the way they formed hollows and planes. His mouth was firm, and that dimple beside it constantly drew the eye.

He even smelled like a man. Plain soap, plain sweat. He'd never been anything but kind to her, and he'd been a part of her life forever, it seemed. But whenever it was just the two of them, she found herself as nervous as a cat faced with a bulldog.

"Too nice a day to toss these in the dryer."

"What?" She blinked, then cursed herself. "Oh, yes. I like hanging the linens out, when there's time. We had two guests overnight, and we're expecting another couple later today. We're booked solid for the

Memorial Day weekend. "

'-"You'll be busy."

"Yes. It's hardly like work, though, really."