Midnight Pass, Texas, had exactly three things to recommend it: the finest pool hall in all the state; thick, rich, foamy beer brewed off the waters of the Rio Grande; and the Reynolds boys, who had grown into the finest-looking cowboys in the entire Southwest.

Annabelle Granger was well aware she’d been born with the gift of keen observation and a tendency to exaggerate what she saw, but there was nothing exaggerated about the swagger that gripped Ace Reynolds’s hips when he walked. The firm grip of Hoyt Reynolds’s long, thick fingers on his Stetson. Or Tate Reynolds’s wicked smile that had removed the panties of more than a few lucky women.

Belle, sadly, had been one of them.

Tamping down on the old feelings that had no place in a criminal investigation, she ignored the cocky grin Tate shot her across the wide expanse of damaged fence she’d been sent out to investigate.

“Thanks for coming, ma’am.”

“It’s Detective.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Detective Ma’am.”

Tate wasn’t remorseful—the infuriating man didn’t do contrite. And she was convinced he’d never used the word “sorry” in his life. Yet try as she might, she couldn’t quite work up the degree of anger required to squelch the demon bats that dive-bombed her stomach every time they got within thirty feet of each other.

“‘Detective Granger’ will be just fine. Or have you managed to forget my name after thirteen years of school, one miserable year as biology lab partners and a rather ill-advised date to the Sadie Hawkins dance senior year?”

She avoided mentioning the six glorious weeks they’d been as wild and carefree as mustangs, falling into each other’s arms every moment they could.

“I know your name.”

She risked a stare straight into those vivid green eyes. “So you’re threatened by my authority, then?”

“Yep. That’s it.”

Belle ignored the sarcasm and dropped to her knee. It gave her a break from staring at those broad shoulders, lean hips and his thick brown hair streaked blond from the sun. The fence had been cut clean through, the work likely as swift and efficient as it looked. “You lose any of your cattle?”

“No. I found the breach early enough to manage and the herd’s grazing on a different sector. This stretch hasn’t been tried before and I don’t have cameras out here.”

Belle filed that information away, the likelihood this was a well-planned—illegal—use of private property increasing exponentially. “Notice anything or anyone suspicious lately?”

“Other than a twenty-foot section of barbed wire cut clean through? No.”

A few of Tate’s ranch hands worked in the distance, preparing the stretch of fence for repair by removing what was cut. Their hands were coated in thick gloves but even with the barrier, they worked quickly.

“I’m here to help you.”

The eyes that usually flashed with easygoing humor clouded, transforming into a hard, cold emerald. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take comfort in that. You’re the third member of our esteemed police force out here in the past six months and no one seems able to fix the little intrusion problem I seem to have developed on my land. That fence isn’t cutting itself.”

Belle chafed at the suggestion her department wasn’t doing enough, but she damn well knew problems along the border had grown nigh impossible to contain. Between drug trafficking

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