Jim Valenti thought, then grinned at himself. He sat at his desk in his office. It was a quiet day. Paper work was pretty much caught up. He had his feet propped up on the desk, leaning back in his chair. Sun was streaming through his office window. He could see a bit of blue sky above the buildings. Beautiful country. Yep... been a long time.

Sometimes he felt like he was going through puberty and high school all over again, along with his son Kyle. Although he'd never been as handsome a kid as Kyle - got that from his mother - and he'd never been a football hero, either.

He'd had it rough, growing up - his father not around, people laughing at him. Had to work after school to help his mother out with the bills - no time for sports. No time to have much fun - except to raise the occasional hell and blow off some steam. What was it they said about policemen? - they either became cops, or criminals.

Of course, Kyle didn't have his mother around, so.. guess we aren't so different after all. Kyle's been having trouble with his girlfriend, Liz. But why wouldn't he? She was a brain and he was a jock. He's a fine kid, though. Any girl'd be lucky to go out with him. But he had to admit, growing up without a woman around the house, Kyle didn't know that much about the finer things, about that woman's touch. They didn't bother with a lot of the niceties. Sometimes he'd open a can of something, dump it into a pot, heat it on the stove, and eat it straight from the pot, watching the game. You don't do that with a woman around the house. Need a napkin, need a plate - hell, need a fancy gingham place mat, for godsakes! He shook his head. Women!

Still... it'd been awhile. It was hard, in a small town like Roswell. Not too many available women - none he'd give a second look at, anyway. Everybody knowing your business. Not that many ladies of the evening for that matter - though every town had their share and he knew which houses those were. But as Sheriff he had to enforce the law and set an example. Besides, if he visited those ladies and partook of their favors, it would put him in an awkward position, maybe compromise his authority.

Not that he needed to buy a woman's favors - wasn't that bad looking, and the ladies do go for a man in uniform, a man in authority. He smiled, thinking about that waitress from Albuquerque. But she was awhile back. And he had taken some solace there.. Up in the city once, and over in Nevada at the sheriff's convention, where it was regulated and legal.. Especially right after the divorce. Those profession women - they know a few tricks - more than a few - that the Missus probably never even heard of - and wouldn't want to know about.

Anyhow, now, with the AIDS and all, well... He didn't want to chance it, wind up in some hospital bed wasting away like some famine victim from a TV ad, and trying to explain to his son that he'd thrown away his life for a quick thrill with a cheap hooker or some friendly barmaid. What kind of example was that?

Besides, if there wasn't love involved and.. hell, even romance - it wasn't that much better than the time he spent with his trusty right hand and a few of the inspirational girlie magazines he kept tucked under his bed.

Now, that Topolsky woman.. she was something. Feisty little thing, with that little sharp nose and a kick like a mule. All that blonde hair, pulled back tight, never a strand out of place. Pity she left town so suddenly - FBI must've pulled her in - she wasn't exactly what you'd call subtle. He shook his head and smiled, remembering some of her antics around town.

Still, there was definitely a connection there, a mutual attraction. He would've enjoyed seeing her let her hair down. Enjoyed taking it down for her... He sighed.

And then, there was Amy. Amy De Luca. Pretty little thing. Kind of kooky. He shook his head. It'd never have worked - her, a crazy hippie, and him, Mr. Law-and-Order. But there was no denying the attraction was there. And now that they were both single parents of teenagers, they had a little more in common. And she'd matured some, and he'd mellowed a bit. Another strong woman, fiery, not afraid to speak her mind.

He grinned to himself. No wonder I'm alone, he thought. I'm attracted to strong, intelligent, independent women - and then, when we're together, we always fight! Get into 'power struggles,' I guess you'd call them. That's what it had been like with his ex. So little, so pretty, so sweet - and then, it seemed like something came over her, and she was different, and nothing he did was right, and all they ever seemed to do was fight. And then - she was gone.

Well, the prettiest girl in town had to be that Isabel Evans. She sure didn't look 16, or act 16. Too bad she had to be related to that strange brother of hers. But they were both adopted - so maybe whatever was going on with him (and damned if he wouldn't get to the bottom of it), maybe she isn't involved. He sure hoped she wasn't. He thought about how flustered he got around her, helping her fix her jeep tire that night. Grinning like an idiot. Wishing she were about 10 years older..

Geez, I must be worse off than I thought, lookin' at high school girls - and in my son's class, no less! Old enough to be her father. He exhaled sharply, disgusted with himself. Still, she is awfully pretty... A man can't help having eyes. She wasn't like the other girls - or the women - in Roswell. She had an air about her, an elegance, an aloofness - a quietness, an unearthly kind of beauty.. And yet, she was still just a kid.

But she had all that beautiful blonde hair. He did like blondes. And those big dark eyes. Those full lips. She was gonna break some hearts, that girl. Her face still had that girlish roundness, and that innocence - although he had no doubt she knew her effect on boys.. and men, for that matter.

And those breasts - bigger than your average 16-year-old. Not that he was a man for big breasts. He liked to have a nice handful..but not too much.

Yep, he'd like a nice trim, petite blonde haired woman... fit her between his legs.. And ride her on till morning...

His jeans were suddenly getting uncomfortably tight, and he put his feet down and sat up, shifting in his chair uncomfortably.

Whoa, there, Jim...pull up on the reins, boy! Geez, it's the middle of the day and you're at work, for godsake!

He wiped his damp palms on his thighs, and blew out a shaky breath. He turned his right hand palm up, looked at it, smiled, and thought - Well, it looks like you and me again tonigh, buddy..

He sat there awhile, and tried to think about other things - box scores, groceries they needed, whether he needed an oil change - but he still carried his hat in front of him as he walked out of his office.

The big deputy looked up.

"Uh, I'm going to go grab a bite to eat.. Got to stop by my place and..uh, check on some things."

"Whatever you say, Sheriff," the man replied, his dark eyes taking in everything, revealing nothing.

"I'll be back.. in a little while," Valenti said as he left.

"Take your time," the deputy said, and nodded, his gaze returning to the work on his desk, his long hair hiding a smile.