Sidewinder

When detective Libby Tate returns to the lawless New Mexico town where her father and brother were murdered, she has a single clue - an S carved into the earth. And a single suspect - Reies Coulter. She soon learns that no one in Sidewinder can be trusted, least of all the mysterious rancher. After meeting this human sidewinder in the flesh, Libby is targeted by someone who wants her dead and is torn between her suspicions and desire.

excerpt:
"If you hold out your thumb, I'll let you hitch a ride behind me."
She whipped her head around away from him. The last thing in the world she intended to do was to get cozy with a murder suspect.
"I walked out here. My legs will take me back."
"We can ride together. It'll be faster." Coulter paced his mount to match her long-legged stride. "And your camera will be safer tied to the saddle horn than dangling over your shoulder."
"Forget it."
He reached down and looped his hand in the strap. Rather than struggle and chance damaging the equipment, she let go. He lifted the camera and wound the strap around the horn, then secured the housing by tying it down with the leather saddle strings.
"Now come on up here. I wouldn't want you to get lost or to step in a snake hole." He freed his booted left foot from its stirrup and held out a hand which seemed as demanding as the tone he used with her. "My grandfather is worried enough already."
He shoved his open hand practically in her face. Libby looked up into eyes that seemed to bore through her. Their expression was assessing, yet impersonal. And formidable. If she continued to refuse, she sensed he was capable of doing anything. She wouldn't put it past him to consider tying her up and throwing her over the saddle.
Her stomach tightened in fear at the thought of making this man act in anger, not that she would let things come to that. Not yet. She was a smart woman who was not only able to take care of herself, but others as well. She'd been trained to deal with men like Reies Coulter.
Fingers suddenly stiff, Libby retrieved her hat from where it had fallen to her back. She set it on her head and tightened the leather strap under her chin.
"Do you think you could put some speed into it?" His expression was a study in impatience. "I have work to finish around the ranch."
With bravado that was half-real, half-manufactured - she'd be plain stupid to be overconfident - she slid her boot toe through the freed stirrup and took Coulter's hand. The palm and fingertips were well-calloused, attesting to the fact that his work was hard and physical. She bounced upward and grabbed onto the cantle to steady herself as she rose. Then, as he slipped forward to make room for her, she swung her leg over the horse's flanks and settled herself in back of the dust-caked man. Though the saddle was a large one, probably Mexican rather than American-made, it was too tight a squeeze for her comfort.
"Hold on."
Though she gripped his belt with both hands, Libby leaned back away from him as far as she dared. The only problem was that the position brought their bottoms into even snugger contact, an unsettling experience to say the least.
"Tighter. Slip your arms around my waist."
"I'm comfortable as I am," she lied.
"It's your pretty little behind if you land in the cholla."
She might have taken the description as a compliment if a touch of sarcasm hadn't backed the words. "Like you said, it's my behind. I'll chance it."
What she couldn't chance was his knowing that her elaborately tooled leather vest concealed a shoulder holster and a small handgun which he'd surely feel if she pressed up against his back. In trying to get a better grasp on his belt, Libby brushed her left hand against a knife sheath. She hated knives. Reies signaled his horse physically. The backs of his thighs tightened against hers, making Sangre move out smoothly.