Why in Sam Hill had he kissed her?

What had he been thinking? Had he lost his ever loving mind?

Still, the look on Savannah’s face had been priceless. Matt had definitely caught her off guard, but that brief brushing of their lips had undone him, too. There was no denying it, the sparks remained, just as hot and electric as ever.

Matt guided the Jeep onto the freeway, heading east to San Antonio. His behavior had been unprofessional. He couldn’t allow himself to be sidetracked by Savannah. He had to stop thinking of her. Had to quit visualizing her long legs, her soft flesh pressed flush against his skin, her fingers entwined in his hair.

Her.

“Ugh!” He groaned aloud and shook his head. This had to stop.

He switched on the satellite radio to an all-news station in an attempt to empty his head. Concentrate on the thefts. Piece together the puzzle. Review the evidence. Anything. Anything at all to eliminate the intoxicating vision of Savannah Markum from his brain.

Fact—in the course of the last three months, six ranches had been robbed and over fifty head of cattle stolen in Presidio County. Various ranching and farming equipment had also been taken, including saddles, bridles, baling wire, lanterns, Kurt McNally’s gold belt buckle, posthole diggers, even a tractor.

Most of the burglaries occurred at night or when the owners were out of town. The perpetrator had to be someone familiar with the area and the comings and goings of the local residents. Matt knew that much for sure.

But he had few clues. Until Kurt’s belt buckle. The thieves were making him feel like a fool, and Matt Forrester hated to be one-upped. He would not be defeated.

For the last two years, since Savannah broke up with him after he got shot and told her that he loved her, he’d funneled all his energy into law enforcement. He lived it, breathed it, reveled in it. The job sustained him, nourished him, fed him through that dark period in his life after Savannah married another man.

The experience honed him into a razor-sharp detective. He should thank Savannah for dumping him.

And yet, things could have been so different. He winced. Savannah should have been his wife, Cody, his child.

She’d even named the boy after him. Why? What did that mean?

“It means nothing, Forrester,” he growled. “Nada, zip, zero.”

Savannah had made her choice, and no amount of wishing could change that fact. Yet, here he was thinking about her again.

Resolutely, Matt pushed thoughts of her aside. Tonight, he had a mission in San Antonio. Tonight, he would focus on his job. Tonight, he would erase Savannah from his brain, for tomorrow would be soon enough to face her and the tangled shreds of their complicated past.

Humidity hung heavy in the barn’s dank interior. Savannah wiped a fine film of perspiration from her brow. Cody lay sleeping in the papoose on her back.

Even with Clem and Ginger’s help, taking inventory of the supplies ate up most of the morning. After breakfast, Savannah sent Julio to move the remaining Santa Gertrudis herd from the back pasture to the front acreage next to the house. Savannah wasn’t taking any more chances. She wanted the cattle close so she could personally keep an eye on them.

“How much longer?” Ginger complained, wrinkling her nose. “It stinks in here.”

“Whining doesn’t help matters,” Savannah said matter-of-factly.

At twenty-one, and four years Savannah’s junior, Ginger sometimes acted much younger. Savannah supposed it was her own fault. She’d spoiled her sister after Mom’s death. She’d tried to give her all the advantages she’d never had. Like college and an expensive, formal wedding. And yes, marrying Gary had figured into it.

“Well, I’m glad Todd isn’t a rancher,” Ginger replied. “I can’t wait to move to San Antonio. I always said I’d marry a man who made a living with his brain and not his brawn.”

“Todd is a hard worker,” Savannah agreed. Her future brother-in-law had already made a reputation for himself in insurance sales, and he was only twenty-five.

“He says I don’t even have to work after we get married if I don’t want to.” Her sister was employed as the office manager at the same insurance firm as Todd. “I can’t wait to start having babies.” Ginger patted her flat tummy.

“Cody and I are going to miss you, sis.”

“Oh, Vannah, it’s not you I want to leave.” Ginger hugged Savannah as best she could with Cody on her back. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

“You’ll be too busy getting settled to even think about me. Besides, San Antonio’s not at the end of the earth.”

“You’re the greatest sister anyone could hope for.”

“I love you.” A tear collected at the corner of Savannah’s eye. It was difficult to accept Ginger as grown and married. The rambling farmhouse would be lonelier with her gone.

“Miss Savannah, as far as I can tell, nothing’s missing,” Clem interrupted. He climbed down off the stepladder and dusted his hands on the seat of his overalls.

Matt would be disappointed. He’d been so sure the thieves had taken equipment along with the Gerts. At the thought of him, she frowned and checked the time on her cell phone.

It was almost noon.

She’d expected him before now. Maybe he’d found her cattle in San Antonio. That would be a relief. She wanted this thing wrapped up, her livestock returned, and Matt eliminated from her life for good, before she did something she’d promised Gary she would never do and spill the beans.

“What about the shotgun Gary used to keep in here for rattlesnakes? Is it missing?” she asked Clem.

“Nope. It’s mounted on the wall behind the door.” Clem nodded.

“I’m going to start lunch,” Ginger said. “You want me to take Cody?”

“Please.” Savannah untied the papoose straps from around her middle. “He’s getting too heavy for this. My back is killing me.”

Cody whimpered awake during the transfer, and Ginger carried him into the house.

Savannah groaned and stretched. The sound of a vehicle turning into the driveway drew her attention. She stepped through the open barn door and caught sight of the cherry red Jeep.

Speak of the devil.

Matt unfurled his long body from the front seat of the vehicle and stalked across the yard toward her. His silhouette ignited a flame of sultry weight in the pit of her stomach. She yearned to launch herself into his embrace, feel his grip tighten around her in that way of his that had once made her feel so safe. She wanted to pull him down in a haystack and kiss him long, slow, and sweet just as they had that very first time they’d kissed on his uncle’s farm so long ago.

She still remembered the stars twinkling above, the straw caught in his hair, his hardy, masculine smell tantalizing her nose—a hearty combination of leather, earth, and sunshine. Even now, a shaft of desire cut through her so intense that it took her breath away.

“Dang,” Savannah mumbled as their gazes met and held.

He was one fine hunk of man. Tall, well-built, rugged. A man she could count on to save her life in a pinch. A breeze lifted a lock of his coal-black hair, giving him a rakish look.

Her heart thudded faster.

He stepped closer.

That damned kiss he’d given her yesterday had kept her awake half the night.

His eyes hardened, and his mouth turned grim. He assessed her, raking his gaze up and down her body.

She raised a hand to her throat, suddenly aware of her disheveled appearance. Her hair drooped limply from its ponytail. The threads from her cutoff jeans hung like tattered flags down her legs. Her T-shirt was stained with grease and barn grime. Taking a deep breath, she clasped her elbows in her palms and waited for him to speak.

“Afternoon, Savannah.” He nodded curtly.

“Matt.”

He shifted, settled back into the heels of his boots, and rested his hands on his belt buckle. He said nothing else.

“How was San Antonio?”

“Informative.”

“You didn’t happen to find my cattle, did you?” The air between them fairly shimmered with tension, like a rubber band stretched to the snapping point. She cringed inwardly, waiting for it to snap.

“No. Did you inventory your supplies?”

“Nothing was missing, least not as far as I can tell. But Gary might have bought some items neither Clem nor I knew anything about.”

“Did Gary keep good records on his ranching transactions?”

“Of course.”

“Could you make those records available to me?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Routine procedure.”

“I don’t understand what Gary’s papers have to do with my cattle being stolen.”

“I need them to verify ownership and the value of the cattle.”

“What do you think you’ll find?”

“Won’t know till I find it.”

His evasiveness bothered her. She had a bad feeling about this. What was he hiding? “I see no reason to give you Gary’s personal records.”

“You don’t have a choice, Savannah. This is a criminal investigation, and his paperwork is evidence. Turn them over to me…now. Unless you have something to hide.”

Did she have something to hide?

Matt pursed his lips. He couldn’t tell her that he suspected the theft of her cattle had nothing to do with the other five thefts. That hers was a copycat crime.

The trip to San Antonio had paid off. He’d found the man who’d tried to hock Kurt McNally’s belt buckle at a pawn shop sleeping off a bender in the local drunk tank. For the favor of being bailed out of jail, the man had been very willing to talk. The fellow said he’d purchased the buckle off three men in San Antonio. He claimed they’d boasted about stealing cattle and equipment, yet their modus operandi did not match the robbery at the Circle B.

A clearer picture emerged.

The thieves generally grabbed just a few head of cattle grazing in a pasture by the roadside and took all the equipment that wasn’t locked up. So why hadn’t they stolen any of Savannah’s supplies?

He needed Gary Markum’s records to ascertain the herd’s number, purchase orders, veterinary records, branding accounts, anything that might be helpful in tracking the thieves.

The back door creaked open.

They both turned.

Ginger stepped out onto the porch, shading her eyes against the sun. “Are you staying for lunch, Matt?”

He was about to refuse when he saw Savannah shake her head and lance her sister a dirty look. He grinned. Evidently, Mrs. Markum didn’t relish his company.

“We’re having fried chicken,” Ginger tempted.

“That’s my favorite. I’d love to stay, Ginger; thank you for the invitation.” He looked at Savannah.

Her frown deepened. “Great,” she muttered and went into the house ahead of him.

Matt chuckled. He liked being a burr under her saddle. Paybacks were hell.

The delicious aroma of frying chicken filled the large farmhouse kitchen.

Ginger stood at the stove, an apron tied around her waist, a pair of tongs in one hand. Cody sat in the middle of the floor, banging on an overturned pan with a wooden spoon. The sight of the little shaver twisted a knife of longing deep in Matt’s chest.

He’d lost so much to stubbornness and false pride. He and Savannah had once shared a bushel of dreams, dreams now scattered, blown to the wind like dandelion seeds.

Why was he torturing himself like this? Wishing, hoping, yearning for a past that could never be recaptured.

“Would you like to wash up?” Savannah asked.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Matt asked.

“This way.” She inclined her head, her shoulders held stiff.

He followed her down the corridor. His eyes devouring the sight of her rounded bottom encased so enticingly in those ragged cutoff jeans, the firm muscles in her long, slender legs flexing as she walked.

The shock of desire racing through his body stunned him like the charge from a cattle prod. After all this time, his desire for her hadn’t diminished one whit. In fact, his hankering had blossomed and grown with the passing years. More than anything he wanted to drag Savannah to the floor and make love to her right there until they created a baby of their own as cute as Cody Markum.

Pipe dreams.

“In there,” she said gruffly, kicking the bathroom door open with the toe of her battered boot.

He shut the door behind him and turned on the water faucet, remembering a time when Savannah would have been damned eager to keep him company. One particular incident rose to mind—the eve of his twenty-seventh birthday, just weeks before their breakup.

Sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, Matt splashed cold water on his face, attempting to chase away the haunting memory. Savannah and his friends had thrown him a party at the lake, and it was past midnight by the time they’d made it back to his apartment, damp and covered in sand, but kissing with unequaled fervency.

“Let’s shower together,” she’d whispered, tempting him beyond endurance by running a hand under his shirt and strumming his pebble-hard nipples.

Matt had almost made love to her that night. But despite his overheated passion, he’d managed to put on the brakes just in time. As much as he’d loved her, they’d had no protection, and he hadn’t been willing to risk an unplanned pregnancy, not while he’d been waiting to hear if he’d gotten accepted into the specialized detective training in El Paso.

Besides, he’d wanted to wait until their wedding night to finally consummate their love. But that hadn’t turned out the way he’d planned.

A sharp knock at the door broke his reverie.

“Are you setting up camp in there, Forrester?” Savannah asked.

“Just a minute.”

Matt reached for a hand towel and mopped his face. Thinking about Savannah and that precious moment caused his body to harden. He stared at himself in the mirror. How had something so right ended so wrong?

He stepped out of the bathroom to find her tapping her toe impatiently. She brushed by him and slammed the door behind her. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one reliving volatile memories.

“Matt,” Ginger called to him as he returned to the kitchen. “Would you mind holding Cody? He keeps getting under my feet, and I’m scared I’ll trip over him with a hot pan of grease or something.”

“No problem.” Matt smiled. He bent to scoop up the baby, who beamed and offered him a soggy teething cookie. “Hey there, big fella.”

“Da!” Cody exclaimed.

“He calls everybody Da,” Ginger explained quickly. “Even Savannah.”

Matt cradled the squirming baby in the crook of his arm, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotion rolling through him. Cody smelled fresh and clean, like baby powder and sunshine. His hair stuck straight up on his head, a fuzzy brown halo.

“You look natural with a baby, Matt.”

“What are you up to, Ginger? Don’t be getting any crazy ideas.”

Ginger shrugged. “She’s still carrying a torch for you.”

“Who? Savannah?” He snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Don’t act like a big, dumb ape. Of course, Savannah.”

“Yeah, right. She cared about me so much she rushed right out and married Gary Markum.”

Ginger arched an eyebrow at him. “There’s more to that story than you know.”

“Oh.” Matt leaned forward, hope knocking against him. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” Ginger whispered, “she didn’t have much choice.”

“Ginger,” Savannah said as she came into the room. “Don’t burn the chicken.” She’d changed into a pair of gray slacks and a white cotton blouse…and she’d put on lipstick.

For his benefit?

Matt’s heart galloped like a racehorse on Derby Day. Was it true? Did Savannah still have feelings for him? The possibility tightened his gut with hope.

Savannah held out her arms toward Matt. “Give him to me.”

Matt relinquished his hold on the child, his gaze searching Savannah’s face.

She kept her eyes trained on Cody.

“Lunch is ready,” Ginger said, dishing up the chicken. “You guys go ahead and start. I’ll ring the dinner bell for Clem and Julio.”

“Ah, yes,” Matt said, “the elusive Mr. Diaz.”

“Make yourself useful, Forrester. Set the table.” Savannah settled Cody into his high chair and handed him a drumstick to gnaw on. “Plates are in the first cabinet on the left, silverware in the top drawer on your right.”

“Running a ranch has given you a bossy streak, Savvy,” he drawled, collecting the utensils.

“No,” she replied coldly. “Growing up has made me assertive. I’m no longer the sweet little pushover you used to bulldoze so well.”

Had he bulldozed her? He didn’t remember it that way. If anything, she’d bulldozed him. He’d always been in awe of her, but now? He was completely blown away.

And that concerned him.

A big ol’ heap of worry.

Around her he lost his grip on his professionalism and for a man who lived for his job, that was not a good thing.

Not good at all.