Logan Ross let his police cruiser rumble through the middle of town. Since moving to Paraiso from San Antonio, he’d learned to appreciate the slower pace and to savor small things such as the change of seasons, even if there were only two in this part of Texas. Life in Paraiso was certainly different from city life.

Here, on a Friday morning, there weren’t any commuters honking horns to push the cars in front of them out of the way, or anyone screaming into cell phones. Nope. Shopkeepers busied themselves around their white limestone stores with their brightly colored windowsills and doorframes, putting up sale signs and displaying their wares on unattended tables under their equally bright awnings.

His gaze snagged on Annie’s Antiques and Annie, not to be confused with the original Annie who happened to be her grandmother, as she carefully arranged a starburst array of quilts on an outside table. Instead of admiring the quilts, he paused to appreciate the fit of her pretty sundress before allowing his gaze to move restlessly on.

Since his buddies had settled down, Logan found himself feeling more and more like he was standing on the outside looking in at a happiness that continued to elude him. Both Cody and Joe seemed to thrive on their domestic arrangements, making Logan wonder what he was missing.

Still, life in Paraiso was good. And Logan thought he might just have found the remedy to the constant lonely ache that settled in his chest at night and gripped his loins so tightly no amount of self-gratification could relieve it.

Shaking off his dissatisfaction, his gaze went back to the town, and there she was. Schoolteacher, came the primal growl rumbling up inside him. Every red corpuscle streaming through his veins rushed south.

The tall, gawky figure striding down Main Street straight toward him sucked away his attention from everything else around him.

Just a glimpse of the unfashionable denim smock she wore was enough to make him hard as rock. Schoolteachers never dressed well. Still, it didn’t matter to him. She could wear a gunny sack and push his buttons.

His reaction to her still shocked him. She wasn’t his usual type—built like a brick house, with curves so deep and round he could clamp his fingers on the woman’s flesh and steer her like a Porsche.

No, Schoolteacher was downright bony and with an angular face. Her medium brown hair was the same soft shade as the deer he’d stalked through the woods just last weekend. Come to think of it, she resembled the creature with its slender, muscular build and darting glances, too.

Maybe that was the attraction—he equated the woman to prey.

Still, her demeanor and her wardrobe choices made him wince. Prim, buttoned-up, unfashionably homey. While he watched, she stopped to chat with Annie and ran a hand over the bright handmade quilts. Some were older and yellowed with time, their colors subdued, while others showed less age and were every color of the rainbow. Even as he watched, she picked up the sign that read, Good Price for a Good Home.

While Schoolteacher stood next to the chic and well-dressed Annie, Logan had to question his reactions to the woman. As ugly and bulky as her dress was, it couldn’t hide the slender curve of her hips or the length of her coltish legs. Even her hideous brown sandals turned him on. They made her feet look like a duck’s paddles until you looked closely and saw the slender beauty of her toes.

He’d caught a glimpse of them once, when he’d cornered her in the Gas ’n’ Go mini-mart squeezing fruit. A plum to be exact. Just the thought of that meeting made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Her long fingers had engulfed the plum, wrapping around the plump fruit to squeeze gently.

Naturally, he’d pictured her squeezing something else just about the same circumference. He’d been arrested in place, watching her test fruit and vegetables for ripeness.

Hell, she’d been so intent, sniffing the stem of a cantaloupe, he’d snuck right up behind her and reached over her shoulder for a honeydew before she’d seen him. Her shock had made him smile and had totally knocked her off-balance.

She’d backed up, her bottom brushing the front of his denim jeans, and he’d known the exact moment she’d realized what she’d snuggled up against. In profile, her cheeks had blushed a fiery red, and her soft mouth had gulped like a guppy’s.

He’d mumbled an apology, embarrassed at his lack of self-control and walked stiffly away, catching a glimpse of a sexy novel in her cart as he’d passed. But he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder for one more look.

She’d placed her hands on the melons as though afraid her legs would crumble, and he’d left the store still smiling.

Over the months he’d been in Paraiso, it seemed as though he was fated to have her, because something kept placing her in his path.

The one house that had suited his needs sat at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac right next to hers.

Then the sheriff had selected him to be the new liaison at the high school to roam the halls, get familiar with the kids, and lead the anti-drug education classes.

His first class had been in the room right next to hers. Of course, she’d dropped the handouts she’d carried the moment she saw him step outside the door of his classroom.

Like a waterfall of white and black, the papers had spilled at her feet, and then she’d sloshed coffee from the cup she carried as she bent over too fast, trying to retrieve them.

He’d knelt at her feet and gathered the handouts, wiping coffee from them on his pants leg before handing them back.

When he’d caught the surprised pleasure in her rounded eyes, he’d felt like a hero. But she’d quickly blinked and stiffened, her mouth sliding into that firm, prim line he was beginning to know all too well.

That didn’t stop him from feeling like that guy who’d whipped his cape over a mud puddle for some long-ago queen. Perhaps fortunately for him, the woman who’d stood in front of him hadn’t had a clue what more he was willing to do to please her.

Somehow, someday soon, Schoolteacher was going to come to him for instruction.

Over the past weeks, he’d fed her tantalizing glimpses of his body and his interests.

He’d padded barefoot to the mailbox when he’d spotted her car pulling into her driveway. He’d purposely worn a thin pair of sweatpants that fell beneath the notches of his hips and molded his sex in blatant detail.

He’d invited his friends for barbeques on his back deck and left the windows open, so that she might hear their rowdy shouts when they watched a game on the television.

One night after he’d spotted her standing in the field between their lots with her telescope pointing toward the sky, he’d made damn sure she had more interesting sights to train her lens on.

Perhaps he’d shared a little too much. Maybe he’d even frightened her. But it was best she understood his needs from the outset. Besides, fear was something he could twist into obsession.

In the meantime, he trailed her surreptitiously in his patrol car, pulling into a parking space when she entered a shop, and then continuing to trail her when she came out.

How she could have failed to notice him, stalking her along the narrow street, mystified him. But then again, most times he saw her, her gaze seemed blurred as though staring at something in the distance. Schoolteacher seemed perpetually lost in a daydream.

How he wished he could slide inside her mind. Were her dreams filled with erotic images of bodies dipping and writhing toward ecstasy? Or were they more romantic?

Logan grimaced, wondering if he’d have to do some research to figure out what a woman like her would find irresistible. His gaze passed the bookstore with its blue-and-white awning and tables set on the sidewalk for passersby to stop and sample the books.

Logan glanced at his watch. His lunch break was coming up. He had just enough time.