Bound to Happen by Mary Kay McComas Page A

getting a little sick of this attitude of yours. I appreciate all you did for me yesterday, and I appreciate your taking me into your home, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to lie here and let you boss me around and brow beat me for the next two weeks … or however long it is. You can have your damned bed and—how come you’re clean?” she asked, abruptly ending her heated speech when she noticed that he was clean and shaven.
    “ I took the time to take a bath last night before I went to bed so I wouldn’t get the sheets all dirty. Which is also why I just threw a blanket over you instead of undressing you and putting you to bed,” he said, grinning as he watched her becoming shocked and pink cheeked at the thought that she’d left herself that vulnerable to him again. “That, and I knew you’d have me for breakfast if I even dared to touch you without permission,” he admitted, even as he audaciously splayed his hand across her waist, resting his thumb in the valley between her breasts. Even through the material of her gown, she could feel the heat of his touch. It spread through her slowly like sweet, warm honey.
    She brushed his hand away as she would a pesky fly. “That’s very good. At least you’re not unteachable.”
    “Don’t get snooty again, or I won’t tell you where you can take a bath.” He was looking smug, and Leslie wanted very much to slap him.
    “Would you please tell me where I might take a bath?” she asked, smiling stonily.
    “Certainly.” Thinking he was as naked below the waist as he was above it, Leslie gasped when he threw back the covers and got out of bed. When he stood there smirking at her, reading her thoughts and adjusting the tie string on his pajama bottoms, she once again had to curb the urge to do him bodily harm. “You can wear the tops tonight, if you want. Or do you sleep in the nude?”
    Quickly checking under the covers to be sure all was as it should be, she jumped out of bed and stood scowling at him. “Are you going to show me where I can bathe or not?”
    “If you’ll allow me some privacy so I can get dressed, I will,” he said, his tone intimating that it didn’t matter if she left or not, he was about to get naked anyway. She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her. “How are your feet this morning?”
    Oddly enough she hadn’t thought of them yet. She looked down to find them cleaner than the night before and far less inflamed. When she looked up at Joe, he shrugged. “I cleaned them up a little last night. We can’t afford to have them get infected.” He paused briefly, then added, “That’s also when I decided to leave you sleeping on my bed. I figured anyone who could just lie there with her eyes closed while someone poured water over the open blisters on her feet was either dead or dead tired.”
    “I was tired. Thank you.” There was a queer feeling in the pit of her stomach as she thought about Joe Bonner, at least as tired as she had been, taking the time to clean her feet so they wouldn’t get infected. It was a nice thing to do, and she was about to tell him so, when he tossed two dark objects in her direction.
    “You can wear these,” he said. They were brown leather moccasins with a soft fur lining. Worn and more his size than hers, they’d be perfect to wear until her feet healed. Again, she felt a warm, beholden sort of feeling toward the man and wanted to express it. But when she looked up at him again, he was untying the string of his pajamas and smiling licentiously. “Pretty soon it’ll be your turn to show and tell.”
    Grabbing up a blanket, she wrapped it tightly around her and went out to stand on the front porch. It was a relief to get away from him. She disliked the feeling of being his sole source of entertainment. She found him much more appealing when he was being kind and sympathetic and heroic. The trouble was, she never knew what he was going to do next.
    It wasn’t long before he walked out into the