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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Turn the page for a special preview of Cathie Linz’s next novel Big Girls Don’t ...

Praise for Good Girls Do

“Humor and warmth . . . Readers are going to love this!”

—Susan Elizabeth Phillips

“Cathie Linz is the author that readers of romantic comedy have been waiting for. She knows how to do it—characters with depth, sharp dialogue, and a compelling story. The result is a charming, off-beat world, one you’ll hate to leave.”

—Jayne Ann Krentz

“Sometimes even good girls need to take a walk on the wild side. Linz deftly seasons her writing with her usual delectable wit, and the book’s quirky cast of endearing secondary characters adds another measure of humor to this sweetly sexy, fabulously fun contemporary romance.”

—Booklist (starred review)

“Sexy, sassy, and graced with exceptional dialogue, this fast-paced story is both hilarious and heartwarming, featuring wonderfully wacky secondary characters and well-developed protagonists you will come to love . . . A winner that will leave readers smiling long after they have turned the final page.”—Library Journal

“Lively and fun, and you won’t be able to put it down.”

—Fresh Fiction

“A fun contemporary romance . . . Fans of You Can’t Take It With You who like romantic romps will enjoy this funny family tale.”—The Best Reviews

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BAD GIRLS DON’T

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Chapter One

There were plenty of things that aggravated Skye Wright, but seeing a police cruiser in her rearview mirror was right up there.

No worries. She could handle Rock Creek’s finest. She’d done it before, when Deputy Timmy Johnson had stopped her for speeding on her way to give belly-dancing lessons. The beanpole law enforcement officer was a sucker for a big smile and a little cleavage. Or a lot of cleavage, depending how far over the limit she was traveling.

The halter top she wore gave her ample opportunity to flash a little flesh if necessary.

“Hey, Timmy. You know I was only going a little fast to get your attention . . .”

“It worked.”

Uh-oh. This wasn’t Timmy. The Studly Do-Right glaring down at her and her cleavage was no sucker. She’d heard about Sheriff Nathan Thornton, but had managed to avoid him. Until now.

“I need to see your license, proof of insurance, and registration,” he barked.

Paperwork. She was so against paperwork. “Is that really necessary?” She shot him a huge smile. Hey, it was worth a try.

Lawman Nathan did not smile back. “License, proof of insurance, and registration.”

Skye shrugged. “Okay, but it’s gonna take me a while to find all that, because I’ve got a lot of stuff in my bag. Hold on . . . my wallet is in here someplace . . .”

She’d barely started digging in her huge Peruvian woven tote when he gave her another order.

“Take your hands out of the bag and please step out of the car.”

His please wasn’t a polite one, so he got no points for saying it as far as she was concerned. Frankly, her attention was focused on trying to remember if she’d even put her wallet in the tote.

“Put your hands where I can see them and step out of the car, ma’am,” he commanded, his voice gritty with impatience.

“What?” Had he just called her ma’am? No one called her ma’am. She was only twenty-five, not ninety.

“Step out of the car. Now!”

“Okay, okay.” She shoved open the car door. “But I don’t see how that’s going to help me find the paperwork you want.”

She jingled but didn’t jiggle as she slid out of her used Toyota. He didn’t blink at her belly-dancing costume—the black crocheted, fringed halter, the purple silk harem pants. She didn’t have her chiffon hip scarf on, but she was wearing the harmonious hip belt, with its loops of coins that made such a delightful sound as she moved.

Studly Do-Right wasn’t projecting harmonious vibes at all. She saw her own reflection in his mirrored sunglasses, which he didn’t bother removing. Skye hated not being able to see his eyes. She judged people by their eyes.

Well, maybe judge was the wrong word to use. She’d made more than her share of mistakes in her first twenty-five years. Who was she to judge others? She read people by their eyes. Yeah, that was a better way to explain it.

Skye had always had strong responses to certain stimuli. And arrogant authority figures like the lawman with the stony expression totally pushed her buttons. But not in a sexual way.

Not that the guy was any slacker in the hottie department. He had all the right physical attributes—dark hair, broad shoulders, narrow waist. His face was sharply angular, but his bottom lip was surprisingly sensual, and his jaw reflected tons of stubbornness. His voice might have been nice, but it was definitely much too bossy for her taste.

“Dump out your purse on the trunk.”

There he went again. Being bossy. Skye felt like arguing, but she had places to go and things to do besides stand here arguing with an aggravating cop. She dumped her stuff onto the Toyota’s rusty trunk, thrilled to find her wallet was in there after all. So were lots of other things—papers, receipts, unopened junk mail, a few meditation cards, her checkbook (with a negative balance), her daughter’s missing minikaleidoscope—and an unopened box of Trojan condoms.

“Here’s my license.” She handed it to him. “Hello?” She waved it at him. The man seemed obsessed with the contents of her bag. Hadn’t Mr. Lawman ever seen condoms before?

“You appear to have a pile of tickets there.” He nodded toward the official-looking documents.

So that’s what those papers were. Skye knew she’d stuck them someplace. A sudden breeze blew them off her car, which had already had over a hundred thousand miles on it when she’d bought it cheap from the friend-of-a-friend months ago.

“I’ll get that.” He reached down for the tickets, studying them as he handed them to her.

She grabbed them from him. His fingertips were warm against hers. She didn’t care. “Is this going to take long? I’m going to be late for an appointment. The football team is waiting for me.”

“You doing a little routine for them?” He made it sound like she was planning on giving all the guys a lap dance.

“I’m giving them lessons.”

“I’ll just bet you are.”

“Yoga lessons and belly dancing. To improve their balance and karma.”

“Yeah, karma is real important in football,” he drawled. “Right up there with a tough defense and a running game.”

“If you don’t believe me, call the coach. He’s the one who hired me.”

“For a little light entertainment.”

“No, for enlightenment and physical improvement.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Not that you’d know anything about enlightenment. Your mind is so closed, I’m surprised it even functions. Are you done with my license?”

“No. Where’s your registration and proof of insurance?”

She rolled her eyes. “How should I know?”

“You’re supposed to have them with you when you drive. And you’re not supposed to drive over the posted speed limit.”

“Who decided on thirty-five miles an hour, anyway? That’s totally insane. This isn’t a residential area and there’s hardly any traffic—probably because of the speed trap you’ve got set up here.”

“If you don’t have your registration and proof of insurance, I’m going to have to take you back to the station.”

“I don’t have time for this!” The coin belt around her hips jangled as she stomped her foot. “I can’t believe you’re being so anal! What’s your next step? Handcuffing me? Go ahead!”

Nathan couldn’t believe how rapidly she launched herself into an impassioned rant about police states squashing personal freedoms.

Fearing she’d hurt herself as she vehemently waved her hands around and narrowly missed smacking him in the face, he had no choice but to restrain her after she ignored his repeated requests to calm down.

Naturally, that’s when another car pulled up. A big Lincoln Town Car. Owen Dunback, the elderly funeral director, was behind the wheel.

“What’s going on here?” Owen asked.

“Police brutality! The man has a handcuff fetish!” Skye declared.

“She’s hardly a threat,” Owen said.

Nathan disagreed. Skye had threatened his peace of mind before he’d even met her. Rock Creek was a small town. He’d heard all about her and her mishaps.

“There’s no need to handcuff her,” Owen added.

“She was speeding.”

“Then give her a ticket.”

“She has a habit of not paying tickets. Has a pile of them in her bag.”

“I’ll pay them for her.” Owen’s wrinkled face reflected his concern. “Nate, she has a small child at home.”

Nathan made no comment. He felt the pulse jerking in his neck as emotion coursed through him. Here was a woman accustomed to breaking the rules and not caring about the consequences. And she had a child.

No, he couldn’t go there. He couldn’t relive the searing pain of loss.

Slamming the door on those dark emotions, Nathan kept his focus on the present.

“How fast was she going?” Owen asked.

Nathan had to unclench his jaw to reply. “Ten miles above the speed limit.”

“I think he’s just got something against belly dancers.” Skye swayed in front of him. Her arms might be restrained behind her back, but those hips of hers were making moves that should be illegal. “That right, Mr. Lawman? Do you feel threatened by a woman’s cosmic power?”

“Not unless she’s carrying a gun.”

“I’m not into guns.”

“Glad to hear that.”

Owen interrupted them. “What do you say, Nate? Issue her a ticket. Or give her a warning. But don’t take her to jail.”

“Authority figures are always threatened by free spirits,” Skye stated.

“Only if they’re speeding and driving without the required documentation,” Nathan retorted.

She stunned him by handing him the handcuffs. Somehow she’d freed herself. She shrugged. “A little trick I learned from a friend.”

Okay, now he was really getting pissed. “You’ve just added resisting arrest to your charges,” he growled.

“I wasn’t resisting,” she denied. “I just politely returned your handcuffs to you.”

“That’s true,” Owen agreed.

“Trust me, when and if I start resisting, you’ll know,” Skye added with a satisfied smirk.

“That’s it. Get in the car.” Nathan slapped the handcuffs back on her and stuffed her in the backseat of the squad car.

“Call my mom,” Skye called out to Owen. “She’s at my place babysitting. Tell her what happened and ask her to gather the gang.”

“Sheriff, you’re making a mistake,” Owen said.

That wasn’t the way Nathan viewed it. He knew trouble when he saw it, and Skye was trouble with a capital T. She’d been stirring things up since she’d first sauntered into town a few months ago. Nothing illegal that he knew about. Until today.

She drove him nuts singing the Beatles’ “Revolution” all the way to the police station. “I picked an old protest song because I figured you wouldn’t know any of the newer ones,” she said.

Nathan ignored her potshot at his age and pulled in front of the station. He knew from her California driver’s license she was twenty-five, five-foot-five, 135 pounds. She had spiky black hair in the photo. That had changed. Her hair was red now. He suspected she was the type always making some weird statement with her appearance—purple hair, mohawks, nose rings, tongue piercings. He’d seen it all, even in a small town like Rock Creek. He’d noticed Skye had a navel ring when she’d twitched her hips at him earlier, but there were no other visible piercings or tattoos.

“Come on.” He opened the car door. “The show’s over.”

“On the contrary.” Skye smiled. “It’s just beginning.”

A crowd was gathered around the entryway to the police station, waving hastily made signs scribbled with markers and crayons.

LET THE BELLY DANCER GO!

FREE SKYE!

LET MY MOMMY GO! This small sign was carried by a little girl. Skye’s four-year-old daughter.

Nathan blocked the punch to his heart at the sight of the half-pint kid wearing a tutu with a pajama top, yellow boots, and a tiara.

Get it together, he fiercely ordered himself. You have a situation here. You need to stay focused on that and not your own demons.

These weren’t wacky outsiders protesting. They were locals. He knew them all. Sue Ellen Riley, known as “Our Lady of the Outlandish” when she’d lived in Serenity Falls earlier in the year. Owen Dunback. Nancy Crumpler, owner of the auto parts store a block away. Lulu Malick, goth teenager. Algee Washington, the big black guy who’d just opened a second Cosmic Comics store a few doors down from the station.

Then there was Angel Wright, in her New Age grove. Skye’s mother. She was reprimanding him with some nonsense about releasing negative energy into the atmosphere, when Sister Mary joined the crowd.

“I got a report of police brutality,” the nun said, “and someone needing my guidance.”

“That would be him,” Skye replied, pointing in Nathan’s direction.

Which made Nathan realize she’d taken off the handcuffs and put them on again, with her arms in front of her this time.

Dammit! First chance he got, he was ordering new handcuffs. These were as old as the hills, and clearly defective.

“What’s going on here, Nate?” Sister Mary demanded.

“She was speeding.”

“So you arrested her?”

“She was driving without proof of insurance or registration. And she’s got outstanding tickets in three states out west,” Nathan said.

“Which I offered to pay,” Owen added.

Sister Mary turned her eagle eye on Nathan. “In that case, what’s the problem?”

Despite being a lapsed Catholic, Nathan almost squirmed before stopping himself. “She resisted arrest.”

“She knows how to slip out of handcuffs,” Owen explained. “She wasn’t really resisting.”

“Of course she knows how to get out of handcuffs. I taught her myself,” Sister Mary declared with a touch of pride. “A little something I picked up from my civil disobedience training during the civil rights movement.”

Nathan was speechless, but not for long. “Move aside, everyone!”

Instead, they all sat down, blocking the door. Then they linked arms.

“You really should clean the sidewalks better,” Sue Ellen noted with disapproval. “The sidewalks in Serenity Falls are spotless. These are cracked, and there are dandelions in between.”

“You’ve got five seconds to move or I’ll have you all arrested.” Nathan’s voice was steely.

“The cell won’t hold us all. It’s barely large enough for one. Besides, think of the paperwork. Do you really want to put yourself through that?” Sister Mary asked him. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to just get those old tickets paid?”

“She’s got a new ticket.”

Owen raised his hand. “I’ll pay that, too.”

“Come on, Nate.” Sister Mary was using her coaxing voice now. “Owen’s arthritis is causing him pain here.”

“I’m okay,” Owen stoically maintained.

“Then my arthritis is causing me pain,” Sister Mary stated.

“I can help you with that,” Angel said, her curly brown hair bouncing. “I’ve got some special yoga moves. We’ll talk later.”

“This is not a joke, people,” Nathan growled.

“Of course it’s not,” Angel replied. “Arthritis is a serious matter.”

Nathan glared at her. “I’m talking about your daughter.”

Angel beamed proudly. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? A little on the rebellious side, but she has a good heart.”

“It’s that rebellious side that’s gotten her into trouble,” Nathan stated.

Skye raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said it was my speeding that got me in trouble. Being rebellious is not illegal.”

Maybe not, but Nathan knew that the sexual awareness thrumming through him as he held Skye by his side was definitely a very serious offense. He suspected this aggravating, belly-dancing female would shake, rattle, and roll his entire law-abiding world if he weren’t careful.

Good thing Nathan planned on being extremely careful. He’d spent a lifetime following the rules. Skye had clearly spent a lifetime breaking them.

Definitely a bad combination . . .

Nathan needed to regain control of this situation. “Sister Mary and Owen—you two come with me.”

“What about me?” Skye rattled her handcuffs.

“We’re all going inside to hash this out,” Nathan stated.

The sit-in group stood.

“Not all of you,” Nathan said hurriedly.

“But you just said . . .” Angel looked confused.

“For a lawman, he’s not very bright, is he?” Skye noted with a shake of her head. “Or very concise.”

Nathan refused to rise to the bait. “Sister Mary and Owen, come along with Ms. Wright.”

Skye blinked with fake innocence. “Do you mean me?” “Or me?” Angel asked. “Which Ms. Wright were you referring to?”

“The handcuffed one.” Nathan put his hand on Skye’s elbow to guide her forward.

“You may call her Skye,” Angel told him.

No way Nathan wanted to be on a first-name basis with this sexy bundle of trouble. Thanks, but no thanks. “The rest of you wait out here. Or better yet, go home.”

“We’re practicing our constitutional right to gather.”

“Only we’re going to gather over at the Dairy Queen across the street,” Sue Ellen said. “But don’t think that means we’re not paying attention to what’s going on over here.”

“I’m not going to the Dairy Queen,” Angel protested. “Sugar is poison. How about some freshly baked yellow-squash cookies instead?” She tugged a bag out of her tote and jiggled it enticingly.

“Let’s get this circus going,” Skye said, suddenly in a hurry to move inside.

Five minutes later, Nathan surveyed the threesome before him in his office. Sister Mary and Owen were a natural pairing. Both comforted and served people in their time of need. Skye was definitely the odd one out in this trio.

“I don’t think you realize the seriousness of this situation,” Nathan sternly told her.

“Serious? Global warming is serious,” Skye replied. “This is a piece of cake compared to that. In fact, you should be thanking me for saving you from Angel’s yellow-squash cookies.”

“They are an acquired taste,” Sister Mary agreed.

Nathan sharply rapped his knuckles on his wooden desk. “People, if we could please focus on the matter at hand here.”

“Sure. Speaking of hands, do you want these back now?” Skye handed him the handcuffs, dropping them in the middle of his U.S. Marine Corps “Semper Fi” mouse pad.

“You have a real attitude problem, you know that?” he growled.

Skye shrugged. “So I’ve been told.”

“Just tell me what paperwork I have to sign and I’ll do it,” Owen said.

Nathan hated seeing the respected business owner dragged into Skye’s mess. “Owen, are you sure you want to do that? I mean, this isn’t really your problem.”

“She’s a friend,” Owen replied.

“Uh-huh.” Nathan sounded dubious.

“Get that look off your face,” Skye ordered Nathan. “Owen is one of the good guys.”

“Who you’re taking advantage of by having him pay for your mistakes instead of taking responsibility for them yourself.”

“That was my idea,” Owen stoically maintained.

“Don’t you have anything to contribute to this conversation, Sister Mary?” Nathan asked.

The nun shook her head and fixed him with a stare. “Not really. You seem to be doing just fine judging everyone’s morals all on your own.”

“She broke the law.”

“She’s sitting right here,” Skye reminded him, waving her hand to get his attention. Her movement made her breasts bounce.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Impossible to do that with her sitting in front of him wearing that belly-dancing outfit. “You’re not exactly the kind of person who fades into the background.”

Skye grinned and wiggled her shoulders, making her entire body sing . . . and his entire body harden. “Why, thank you, Sheriff. That’s the first compliment you’ve given me. No doubt it will be the last.”

“It appears you two got off on the wrong foot,” Sister Mary said. “There certainly are a lot of sparks flying here.”

Nathan’s eyes shot from the vixen-woman’s bustline to the nun’s knowing face. “Sparks?”

Skye wiggled her shoulders again. Not that he looked at her again. No, he could tell what she was doing by the sound of all those tiny bells chiming as she moved.

Ask not for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee. Nathan didn’t remember the author of that quote, but he could sure relate at the moment.

“Sparks,” Sister Mary repeated.

“You’re mistaken, Sister.” His voice was curt.

The sound of a little girl’s screeching voice directly outside his office caught everyone’s attention. “I gotta pee! Right now! I want my mommy with me!” the kid screamed.

Skye was on her feet and at her daughter’s side in two seconds flat.

“Skye isn’t dangerous,” Sister Mary told Nathan when he moved to go after her. “Not to the public. Maybe to your peace of mind. But don’t hold that against her, Nate.”

“You’re trying to make this personal. It’s not.”

“You haven’t let anything get personal for a long time now, have you?” Her voice was compassionate.

“Uh, I think I’ll go see about a cup of coffee if that’s okay?” Owen said.

“Drink it at your own risk,” Nathan told him with a smile. “But you’re welcome to help yourself. Do you know where it is?”

Owen nodded. “I saw it when we came in.”

Once they were alone, Sister Mary looked at Nathan with an expression that reminded him of a bomb-sniffing dog, determined and focused. “It’s just us now, Nate.”

“Yes, it is.” He perched on the corner of his desk and folded his arms across his chest as he faced her.

“So what’s this really all about?” Sister Mary demanded.

“Speeding and driving without proper documentation.”

“She gets to you, doesn’t she? She gets to most people. Skye isn’t one to sit on the sidelines of life. She’s right there in the middle of the action.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“So what bothers you the most about her?”

“The fact that she was speeding.”

“Right. She’s fast. And that bothers you.”

The nun made it sound like he was attracted to the belly-dancing vixen. “There you go again, trying to make it personal.”

“And there you go again.” Sister Mary wasn’t backing down. “Putting up barriers. As I said before, you haven’t let anything get personal for some time now.”

Nathan shrugged. “Law enforcement works better that way.”

“How about life? Does it work better that way too?”

Before he could answer, Nathan’s windowless office was suddenly plunged into darkness.

Chapter Two

Nathan’s military and law enforcement training instantly kicked in. A slice of light coming through the partially open office door revealed a solitary figure standing there.

An unidentifiable figure. Not good.

“Doesn’t the town pay its electric bills?” Sister Mary was asking even as Nathan shot forward, only to run into someone in the dark. Someone with curves and dancing bells.

Nathan grabbed Skye to prevent her from falling. He was aiming for her shoulders, but somehow his right hand encountered the fullness of her breast en route.

“Don’t waste electricity,” a child’s voice reprimanded him.

“Don’t cop a feel in the dark,” Skye told Nathan before shoving him away.

“What’s ‘cop a feel’ mean, Mommy?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Skye flicked the lights back on. She hated the fact that the touch of Studly Do-Right’s hand on her breast had shaken her. “My daughter likes to turn the lights off.”

“Don’t waste electricity, right, Mommy?”

“Right.” And sexy zings from Nathan’s touch were a definite waste of electricity as far as Skye was concerned.

She gave him the evil eye, aka the Sicilian death stare, just in case he got any ideas about placing his hands anywhere near her breasts again. But she could tell by the stunned look on his face that he hadn’t planned on groping her in the first place.

Not that his touch even qualified as a grope. It was more like a quick brush, really. Which made her intense reaction all the more disturbing. What was that all about? She was no prude to go all weak at the knees this way.

Sister Mary broke the sudden, awkward silence by making introductions. “You already know Angel, Skye’s mother. And this is Toni, Skye’s daughter. She’s four.”

“You look mean.” Toni gave Nathan a miniversion of the Sicilian death stare. “I don’t like you.”

“She’s into expressing her emotions.” Angel ruffled her granddaughter’s hair.

“Like her mother,” Nathan drawled.

“Absolutely,” Skye stated proudly.

“I’m sorry if Toni’s yelling upset you earlier,” Angel said, “but she wanted her mommy.”

Nathan nodded. “Yeah, I got that.”

“I’ll bet you thought I was going to make a run for it, didn’t you?” Skye directed her challenging comment to Nathan.

Before he could reply, Owen returned to the room with coffee in hand and an apologetic expression on his face. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got a funeral I’ve got to prepare for this afternoon, so if we could get the paperwork going here, I’d really appreciate it.”

Nathan was instantly all business. “How much do you owe on all those tickets?” he asked Skye.

“Three hundred and ninety-three dollars.” She dug them out of her huge tote bag. “Here, do the math yourself if you don’t trust me.”

He used the calculator on his tidy desk. “Actually, it comes to three hundred and ninety-two dollars. I’ll tell you what.” He steepled his fingers. “Pay these old tickets and I’ll let you go this time.”

Angel’s face was serene. “I’m so glad you’re trusting your inner vision on this matter, Nathan.”

Sister Mary beamed. “Thanks, Nate.”

Owen’s smile was equally big. “Yes, thank you, Nate.”

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” Nathan asked Skye.

Skye gave him the evil eye once again. “Don’t push your luck.”

“In that case, I hope you’ll consider this experience a warning.”

Skye smiled sweetly. “I will if you will.”

“What do you think they’re doing over there at the police station?” Sue Ellen asked between slurps of her Blizzard at the Dairy Queen.

Algee shrugged. “Sister Mary will make sure they don’t torture Skye.”

“Do you know how many people are tortured around the world each year?” Lulu asked. “The statistics are on the Amnesty International website.”

Sue Ellen clucked her tongue. “You’re just a regular Suzie Sunshine, aren’t you?”