On Dean's Watch: (Silhouette Intimate Moments #1234) by Linda Winstead Jones

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On Dean's Watch

Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.

Chapter One

A man she didn't recognize stood close to the massive trunk of an old oak tree, motionless, his
eyes and his unwavering attention on her little cottage. She'd left the kitchen light burning, so it
probably looked to him as if someone was home.

All was quiet up and down Magnolia Street. It wasn't yet nine o'clock, but dark had fallen a
while ago, shrouding the old houses and thick-limbed trees in quiet night. Sporadically placed
street lamps, porch lamps and the light glowing from the windows of homes cast illumination
here and there. But Reva had found herself walking in more dark than light. She knew the way
well, so the dark was not a problem. But then, she didn't usually see strangers on her way
home.

If not for the moonlight, she wouldn't be able to see the man at all. He was almost hidden in
shadow, there beneath the oak tree.

If he was lost in shadow, so was she.

She'd walked home from Tewanda Hardy's after dropping off Cooper at his friend Terrance's,
where he was spending the night. It was such a pretty spring evening, much too nice to be
driving the mile or so to the Hardy house and then home again. WhenCooper had said he was
ready to go, Reva had pulled on her Tennessee Titans cap, stepped into her walking shoes and
hit the sidewalk.

Good thing she'd decided to walk. She never would have discovered the man spying on her
cottage if she hadn't cut through the yard of the main house. She would have walked into her
cottage without knowing someone was watching.

For a moment Reva stood very still and studied the man. Even though he was where he
shouldn't be, she didn't feel threatened. He was wearing a suit, for goodness' sake, and
definitely didn't look like any burglar she'd ever seen. He didn't look around to see if anyone
might be watching, didn't display any signs of nervousness. Instinctively she knew he wasn't a
threat to her. Indecision bubbled inside her, making her stomach clench. Her instincts had failed
her before. She really shouldn't start trusting them now.

While she watched, he backed away from the tree, did a quick about-face and walked off.

And straight toward her.

Reva had a couple of choices, but she needed to make her decision now. Run. Hide. Confront.

The man who'd been watching her house jerked his head around to stare in her direction. Okay,
too late for hiding. He had long legs; she couldn't outrun him. All her neighbors were elderly.
Screaming for help would eventually get the sheriff here, but would not do her any good in the
coming minutes.

Reva searched the ground quickly, her eyes landing on a three-foot tree limb that had been
trimmed from the Bradford pear but not yet taken to the street for pickup. She stepped to the
side, dropped down and grabbed the limb, then stood and prepared herself for confrontation,
the only choice she had left.

"Hi," he said, his voice calm and even.

Reva relaxed, but she did not drop the branch. "Hi. What the hell are you doing skulking around
the neighborhood?" She didn't want to point out that she'd caught him watching her house.

"I'm not ..." He hesitated. "Was I skulking?" His face was mostly in shadow still, but she could
see his reaction. A reluctant half smile transformed his hard face. "I can see how it might've
looked that way. I'm renting a room across the street. Just got in an hour or so ago, and I
wanted to have a look around." He moved forward and offered a hand. "My name's Dean
Sinclair."

Reva stepped back. Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe not. She wasn't about to drop the
tree limb and shake his hand, even if he did sound normal and reasonable, and was dressed in a
suit, dress shirt and tie. She wasn't going to give him her name, either.

As she retreated, he came to a halt. His half smile faded. "You're not going to hit me with that
stick, are you?" There was a hint, just a very slight trace, of something dark in that question. The
gut instinct she rarely trusted made her glad she hadn't dropped her makeshift weapon.

Crime in Somerset was practically nonexistent, unless you counted littering and the occasional
offense of loitering. And trespassing, Reva thought as she narrowed her eyes. Not exactly a
heinous crime, but still, something about this man set her teeth on edge. The fact that she'd
caught him spying on her house didn't help matters any.

"Not if you don't give me a reason to," she answered.

Casual as you please, the man crossed his arms. So why was she so sure there was nothing at
all casual about this man?

"There are some great old houses in this neighborhood," he said, his voice soft and deep. "I was
just walking around, checking them out. I'm interested in nineteenth-century architecture."

"You can actually see the details of that architecture better by daylight," Reva said sharply.

"Like I said, I just arrived in town." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I couldn't wait to have a
look around. Do you live close by?"

"No," she said. "I'm just walking around in the dark admiring the architecture."

That response got another half smile out of the stranger. Dean whatever. He definitely didn't
look like a criminal, but he didn't exactly look harmless, either. Beneath that suit he was
physically fit. She could tell by the way he walked, the way he held himself. There was no
softness about him, unless you counted the voice that was slightly touched with a Southern
accent.

Reva was always wary of the opposite sex, especially men like this one. This Dean fellow was
hard, cocky and not where he should be. Architecture my ass.

"I'm leaving," he said, taking a step back. "I would say it was nice to meet you, but you never
did tell me your name." He paused, but she did not fill in the blanks for him. "And I can't see
your face," he added, dipping his head to one side as if that might help. "Not with that cap
shadowing it. But if I ever see an overly suspicious woman walking down the street carrying a
big stick, I'll be sure to say hello."

Reva hefted the limb in her hand, making sure her grip was firm. Was he flirting with her?
Impossible. She decided not to respond at all.

"Sorry if I gave you a fright," Dean said.

"You didn't give me a fright," Reva insisted.

Dean nodded, apparently not believing her for a moment. Could he hear her heart thudding all
the way over there? Or did he detect the tremor in her voice?

"I guess I should save my examination of the town for daytime hours from now on. I didn't
know they rolled up the sidewalks so early here."

"Now you know," Reva said sharply.

"Good night, ma'am," he said with a tip of his head and a quick turnabout. Reva watched as he
walked across the yard, across the street and directly to Evelyn Fister's front door. She glanced
down the side driveway of the three-story house where Dean claimed he was staying and
caught sight of the rear end of a strange car parked there.

Okay, so maybe he'd been telling the truth. Maybe.

She carried the Bradford pear limb with her as she walked toward home.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from On Dean's Watch by Linda Jones
Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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