His Most Wanted by Sandra Jones

propriety?” Her eyes danced, daring him to argue as she rolled up her sleeves.
    He let it drop. This was one duel he couldn’t win. Besides, it was hard to stay angry in the company of Cora with her lively green eyes and intriguing half smiles. Her compassion made it easy to like her, and harder to remember she was wanted for murder.
    When they finished eating, he took a moment to sniff the air and discovered how right she’d been earlier. The place still reeked of grain alcohol. He grumbled, “If we’re lucky, the bedrooms will smell better.”
    â€œI thought your uncle brewed beer. I would think you’d feel at home.” She licked her thumb of the last of her bread and preserves.
    â€œFunny. Yes, he ran a brewery, and that aroma is infinitely better than this.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, Cora, I’m sorry I brought you into this mess today.”
    â€œDon’t worry about me.” She stood from the table and headed into the living room. “We’re both armed in case of wild raccoon attacks.”
    He chuckled and followed her to the stairway, relieved at her ability to find humor in the situation. Heading up the stairs, however, his throat tightened and his pants grew a size smaller as he caught sight of her firm, perfect bottom again in the fitted men’s breeches. Though it seemed impossible in the middle of the ramshackle house, his ribs aching from his fall and with her wearing men’s clothing and a layer of dirt, but he wanted her as he’d never wanted another woman in his life.
    Staying with her under the same roof again, alone, was a bad idea. There were a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t touch her. Yet instinct told him he’d buckle at one word or touch that gave him an opportunity to spread her beneath him.

Chapter Eight
    If Cora wasn’t so tired, she would’ve laughed even harder at the state of Kit’s second floor, which was as derelict as the downstairs, if not more so. They carried a lantern, illuminating dust and cobwebs at the top of the steps, and the master bedroom smelled so musty neither of them could step foot inside it.
    A touch of sadness tugged at her heart for Kit. It couldn’t be easy for the man, seeing the disorder of his new home after he’d traveled so far with the good intention of settling down to begin an honest life. It seemed cruel to make fun of him now, especially after his uncle’s memorial.
    The second bedroom beckoned invitingly with no drafty windows and a decent mattress and pillows awaiting them on the bed.
    Cora set the lantern on the bed stand and went to the dresser to find the linens Ben had mentioned. When she turned back around with a pile of bedcovers in hand, she caught Kit staring at her, and her stomach fluttered.
    Although he’d refused her on the mountain top, he’d been putting out signals for days, so maybe this was another of those times. Well, he could think again.
    She’d tried to reciprocate, hadn’t she? If he’d thought she was offering her body to him out of charity, he was dead wrong.
    Oh. Realization of her true feelings sent a ripple through her.
    If she wasn’t offering to make love out of charity that must mean…
    Gracious. An attraction to him or any man was dangerous. She couldn’t afford a lover—least of all one who was a sheriff, for Pete’s sake.
    She averted her gaze and went to make the bed. “I think I could make a divider with this extra blanket. That way you could sleep on one side, and I could have the other.” Her voice wobbled with uncertainty.
    She felt the heat of Kit’s eyes upon her as she leaned over the mattress, smoothing out the wrinkles. While she rolled up the cover into a buffer, he said nothing, merely putting his gun aside and unbuttoning his sleeves.
    Oh, dear God , he was undressing. “Wait just one moment.” She dove across the bed for the