Jesse James Harte was in deep, deep trouble.

"You playin' or are you just gonna sit there lookin' pretty?" the scrappier of his two opponents asked with a fearless smirk.

Jesse glared at his cards, trying to figure out his options. They didn't look any cheerier than they had a few moments ago.

"Come on. We're waitin'."

"Yeah, yeah. Hold your water." He looked at his hand one last time then back at the two troublemakers across the table from him. His throat was parched and he needed a drink in the worst way but he didn't dare turn his back on these two desperados. Not for a second. The two of them were as terrifying as any hardened criminal he'd ever come up against.

Finally, he knew he'd have to do something, and quick. He set down the only possible card he could, jack of hearts. As soon as it left his hand, he knew it was a mistake. A triumphant shout rang through the room and a queen of hearts slapped onto his jack.

His niece Lucy gave a shriek of excitement. "Ha! That was her last card. You lose, Uncle Jess! Told ya you'd never be able to beat Dylan at Crazy Eights. She's the best. The absolute best."

"The winner and still undefeated champ-i-on!" Dylan Webster, Lucy's stepsister of less than a month, jumped from the chair across from his desk and did a little hip-jiggling victory dance around his office.

Jesse leaned back in his chair and watched their celebratory gyrations out of narrowed eyes. "You cheated. I can't figure out how but you must have cheated. Worse than a couple of Wild West card sharks, that's what you are. Come in here after school acting all sweet and innocent, saying you just stopped in to say hello, and then you bilk me out of two Snickers bars. You think I don't know what's going on?"

Dylan batted her eyes at him. "Who, us? Would we do something like that?" That one was going to be a heartbreaker just like her mom, when she put on a few more years.

"I ought to lock you both up right now and throw away the key," Jesse growled. "Teach you to mess with the Salt River chief of police."

The girls just giggled at him.

"Come on. Best two out of three." He scooped up the cards and started shuffling them. "Better yet, I'll teach you how to play a real game. How about blackjack?"

"We already know how to play," Dylan assured him.

"How about Acey-Deucy? No? Sit back down, then." He did a fancy little flourish with the cards that sent them cascading between his hands in a rainbow. His little card trick was rewarded with two pairs of wide eyes.

"Cool!" Lucy exclaimed. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Years of practice, beating the pants off your dad. He stinks at cards. Always has. And you can tell him I said so, too." He grinned and she giggled back.

"Will you teach me how to do it?"

"Sure, if you give me the first bite of that Snickers bar."

Before she could answer, a knock sounded at the door.

"Yeah?"

His dispatcher, receptionist and all-around pain in the neck shoved open the door and stood in the doorway, all four feet ten inches of her.

"Chief, you got company," Lou Montgomery barked.

"Yeah?"

"Says it's important."

"Send him in, then."

"Her," a new voice interjected. Compared to Lou's rotgut-rough voice, this one was as soft and smooth as water rippling over rocks. He knew that voice. He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, the girls beat him to it.

"Ms. McKenzie!" they shrieked in unison, and rushed to greet his visitor, their fourth-grade teacher. She gave them a strained smile but accepted their hugs graciously.

"What are you doing here?" Dylan asked.

The pretty teacher looked uncomfortable. "I ... I just had some business to discuss with Chief Harte."

Something she obviously didn't want to share with two nosy girls. Before the terrible twosome could interrogate her about it, Jess stepped in. "Ladies, I'll have to take a raincheck on the poker lessons. Aren't you supposed to be cleaning out the cages at the vet's, anyway?"

They both groaned but picked up their backpacks. "Bye Ms. McKenzie," they chimed in unison.

"Thanks for the Snickers bars," Dylan smirked to Jesse on her way out the door.

As soon as they left, Ms. McKenzie raised a delicate eyebrow at him. "Poker lessons?"

Despite that sexy voice of hers, the schoolmarm tone still made him feel like he'd just been caught throwing spitballs. He cleared his throat. "Uh, guilty. What can I say? I'm a bad influence. Sit down. What can I do for you?"

After a brief hesitation, she walked across the office with that slight, barely perceptible limp that had been driving him crazy with curiosity since she moved to town at the beginning of the school year.

She slipped into the chair across the desk from him and folded her hands carefully on her lap, her green eyes focused on some point just to the left of his face.

He fought the urge to look over his shoulder to see what she found so fascinating back there. Judging by their few brief encounters since her arrival in Salt River eight months ago, he had the uncomfortable feeling she wasn't looking at anything in particular, just away from him.

For some reason, he seemed to make Sarah McKenzie nervous, although for the life of him he couldn't figure out what he'd done to her.

The last time he'd seen her had been a month ago at his brother Matt's wedding to Dylan's mother, Ellie. At the reception, the schoolteacher hadn't moved from the corner for most of the evening. In a pale peach dress and with all that sunstreaked blonde hair piled on top of her head, she'd looked cool and remote and scrumptious enough to gobble up in one bite.

When he finally decided to ignore her blatant back-off signals and ask her to dance, she'd stared at him like he had just dumped a glass of champagne all over her, then stomped on her fingers.

She didn't say anything for several painfully long moments, then she had jumped to her feet and stammered some excuse about how she needed to check on something. Next thing he knew, he saw her driving out of the church parking lot like she was trying to outgun a tornado.

He pushed the memory away. So the pretty, enigmatic Ms. McKenzie didn't want to dance with him. So what? He was a big boy now and could handle a little rejection once in a while. His little sister Cassidy probably would have said it was good for him.

Not that any of that had a thing to do with the reason she was sitting in front of him trying not to wring her hands together nervously.

"Is there something I can help you with, Ms. McKenzie?" he asked, in his best casual law officer's voice.

She drew in a breath, then let it out in a rush. "I want you to arrest someone."

It was the last thing he expected her to say. "You do?"

Her soft, pretty mouth tightened. "Well, I'd prefer if you could drag him behind a horse for a few hundred miles. But since I don't think that's very likely to happen, given the Constitution and all, I suppose I'll have to settle for seeing the miserable excuse for a man locked away for the rest of his natural life."

"Does this miserable excuse for a man have a name?"

She hesitated for just a few beats, just long enough to nudge his curiosity up to fever pitch. "Yes," she finally said coolly. "Yes, he does have a name. Seth Garrett."

His jaw dropped. "The mayor? You want me to arrest the mayor?"

"I don't care if he's the President of the United States. He belongs in jail."