“God, you are gorgeous,” he blurted.

Her eyes crinkled in mirth, and she chuckled. His heart double-thumped. If he’d thought she was beautiful before…

She pulled her hand from his and touched his cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself, Brody.” Her gaze moved from his eyes to his mouth, and the heat in his chest flared.

“Christ.” He couldn’t breathe.

She chuckled again and ran a finger across his upper lip. “Ready to go find that sheriff?”

Michael blinked. He’d completely forgotten their purpose. How did women shift gears so fast? “Uh…sure.” He didn’t sound sure at all.

Jamie unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door, swinging sleek legs out. Michael bit the inside of his cheek. She slammed her door and glanced at him through the open window. He hadn’t moved.

“You coming?”

He felt glued to his seat. And it wasn’t from the heat. Something about their conversation and the touch of her hand on his face had utterly undone him. His heart had moved into a foreign position, and he was clueless how to handle it. He swallowed hard, feeling like he was about to step out of a plane. With no parachute. He reached for his door handle.

“Always.”

Michael looked like he didn’t want to get out of the SUV, like he didn’t want to break the connection they’d created. Jamie hadn’t wanted it to stop, but she needed a breather. This reckless, impulsive man was pulling her close and opening her up in a way she’d never experienced. She’d never discussed Chris with anyone outside of her parents and Chris’s psychiatrist. But she hadn’t been talking about Chris; she’d been talking about herself.

Michael’s emerald eyes had made her mouth keep moving and her breathing grow deeper. His face was all planes and angles, no softness. She’d felt the need to touch with her hand to add some softness to those hard surfaces. And the heat that’d erupted from his eyes at her touch had nearly unraveled her. She wasn’t the only one feeling something. In those brief seconds, she’d known every thought in his mind. And they weren’t about her brother.

She stepped up to the sidewalk in front of the sheriff’s office and watched Michael emerge from the SUV. He moved with confidence, like every muscle had a supreme purpose, exuding a tightly coiled energy. He was the kind of man who drew a woman’s eye, who made a woman wonder what it’d be like to be in ownership of that kind of male. But he was also the type of man who made a woman step back. He didn’t expel the commitment pheromone most women sought. His pheromones screamed temporary…but what a temporary ride it would be.

Jamie didn’t need temporary. Jamie didn’t need excitement. Long ago, she’d decided she needed a man who offered security, stability, and solidity. She didn’t see that in Michael.

But a tiny voice in her head kept telling her to consider the ride he was offering. And she was weakening. Once they’d figured out what was going on with Chris, she was going to take a hard look at the man Michael Brody was.

He stopped beside her on the sidewalk and tilted his head toward the door. She nodded and started to reach for the doorknob, only to see his hand grab it first and hold it open. She paused and then passed through, acutely aware of the warm hand he’d placed on the small of her back. The dim coolness of the office helped her relax.

“Can I help you?” A small, fluttery bird of a woman smiled brightly at them from behind a large desk. She was in civilian clothes, a floral shirt and faded blue jeans that Jamie immediately labeled as “mom jeans.” She wore way too much black mascara, but her smile was warm and open. Her name tag read “Sara.”

“We’re looking for Sheriff Spencer,” Michael answered.

Sara’s gaze took a quick measure of Michael, and Jamie could tell she liked what she saw. Too bad she was older than him by at least twenty-five years.

“He went down the street. He’s grabbing some dinner at the diner. Might be stopping at the grocery, too. We’re out of coffee.” Sara focused more intently and tilted her head in a rapid way that reminded Jamie of a bird again. “You the reporter from Portland?”

“Yep. You think he’d mind if we wandered down to find him? We need to check in at the hotel, too.”

Jamie stiffened. She hadn’t thought about the sleeping situation. Until now. Too many images peppered her brain. Some very hot.

Separate rooms. No exceptions.

Sara abruptly pinned her focus on Jamie, blinking rapidly, and Jamie knew she’d picked up every nuance of her body language.

“Not at all. He’d probably like to have someone to gab with over dinner. You eat yet?”

Jamie couldn’t remember eating at all.

“No,” answered Michael. “Food good?”

“The best,” Sara proclaimed proudly. “Try the enchiladas. And keep hitting the bell at the hotel desk if no one is right there. Chuck’s a little hard of hearing.”

Michael thanked her and steered Jamie out the door with his hand on her back again. She blinked at the sun that was starting to set.

“I’m freaking starved,” Michael muttered. “Let’s eat and find the sheriff, then find your brother.”

Jamie silently agreed, feeling her stomach rumble at the thought of enchiladas drowning in melted cheese. A sign a block away indicated it was the town diner. She locked her gaze on it and walked faster.

Michael moved his hand from her back to firmly hold her hand. She gave him a smile, but his gaze was focused ahead on three men lounging in front of the tiny grocery store. One man wore an apron with the grocery store logo, and the other two men each held a soda can—Coke and Diet Coke. Jamie’s mouth was instantly dry.