was
bluffing. And he almost smiled when her face went bloodred and she couldn't
look at him to save her life. He was right. She was putting on an act. She
wasn't half as confident as she made out, and that pleased him. It gave him
some badly needed confidence of his own.
He moved closer, smelling of dust and cattle,
and she looked up to find a strange, soft expression—or what passed for one— in
those very dark eyes.
"Instead of getting things on a physical
level right at the outset, Lacy," he began, his voice deep and soft,
"suppose you and I get to know each other? That's the one thing we've
never done. Not even in the beginning, when you came to live here."
She relaxed visibly. He saw that, and relaxed
himself. He'd been pushing himself all day, finding excuses, giving his men
hell because it was staring him in the face and he didn't know how to tell her—
"Yes," she interrupted his thoughts.
"I'd like that." She ventured a glance up at him. "I didn't mean
to make it sound so blatant in San Antonio. I'd been drinking."
"I know." He hesitated, seeming as shy
as she felt. "Lacy, about sharing the room..."
"Please don't shame me, Cole," she
whispered, averting her eyes.
"I was going to say that I.. .don't mind
it," he said hesitantly.
She looked up, delightfully surprised. Her face
brightened; her warm blue eyes smiled at him. She tingled with pleasure, and it
showed. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Okay, kiddo,"he said, regaining a
little of his old confidence. He touched her chin with his knuckles, smiling
faintly at her. "I guess we can keep from kicking each other out of
bed."
She beamed, her face gloriously beautiful. She
glanced up and then down again. "I hope you don't snore, cowboy," she
murmured.
"Not me, lady. How about you?" he
added as he started into the bathroom.
She picked up a cushion from the chair to toss
at him, and he retreated into the bathroom with a laugh. Minutes later she
heard water running.
She found a magazine and curled up with it. How
odd this felt, to share a room with a man. Even the sounds of bathing were
intimate. She wondered what Cole looked like without his clothing. She'd never
seen him that way. The one night they'd been intimate, he'd never turned on the
light. In fact, looking back, she was almost certain that he hadn't even
undressed completely. Since he'd come home from France, she'd never seen his
shirt open, or off, and most of the cowhands went bare-chested from time to
time, especially in summer. But not Cole. Not ever these days.
Involuntarily her mind went back to the day he'd
left to join his unit for overseas duty. His shirt had been off then, and he'd
kissed her and kissed her. She remembered tugging hungrily on the thick hair
that covered his broad chest, how it had felt to be close to him, to let him
kiss her. She'd thought it was a beginning, but it hadn't been. He hadn't even
written just to her alone once he was gone. And when he came back, he couldn't
bear to let her touch him at all. Not until that morning in the barn, before
he'd come to her room that one night after they'd married. But that was a sad,
shaming memory. He'd hurt her badly, and she'd cried. They hadn't talked about
it until he'd come to see her in San Antonio. It was still hard to discuss it.
Thinking back made her sad. She shook her head
as if to clear it. Then an article in the magazine caught her eye and she
became engrossed in it.
He came out of the bathroom much later, clad in
pajamas and a flowing robe. It was his room, after all; he had clothing in the
closets, too, next to the ones she'd put there on her arrival. She looked up,
forcing a smile.
"You look a few shades lighter," she
remarked dryly.
He chuckled, pausing at the vanity mirror to
sweep back his straight, thick hair with a comb. It was wet, almost black with
dampness, and although he was completely covered in the navy pajamas and robe,
it was so intimate to see him in nightclothes.
He saw her expression in the
bluffing. And he almost smiled when her face went bloodred and she couldn't
look at him to save her life. He was right. She was putting on an act. She
wasn't half as confident as she made out, and that pleased him. It gave him
some badly needed confidence of his own.
He moved closer, smelling of dust and cattle,
and she looked up to find a strange, soft expression—or what passed for one— in
those very dark eyes.
"Instead of getting things on a physical
level right at the outset, Lacy," he began, his voice deep and soft,
"suppose you and I get to know each other? That's the one thing we've
never done. Not even in the beginning, when you came to live here."
She relaxed visibly. He saw that, and relaxed
himself. He'd been pushing himself all day, finding excuses, giving his men
hell because it was staring him in the face and he didn't know how to tell her—
"Yes," she interrupted his thoughts.
"I'd like that." She ventured a glance up at him. "I didn't mean
to make it sound so blatant in San Antonio. I'd been drinking."
"I know." He hesitated, seeming as shy
as she felt. "Lacy, about sharing the room..."
"Please don't shame me, Cole," she
whispered, averting her eyes.
"I was going to say that I.. .don't mind
it," he said hesitantly.
She looked up, delightfully surprised. Her face
brightened; her warm blue eyes smiled at him. She tingled with pleasure, and it
showed. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Okay, kiddo,"he said, regaining a
little of his old confidence. He touched her chin with his knuckles, smiling
faintly at her. "I guess we can keep from kicking each other out of
bed."
She beamed, her face gloriously beautiful. She
glanced up and then down again. "I hope you don't snore, cowboy," she
murmured.
"Not me, lady. How about you?" he
added as he started into the bathroom.
She picked up a cushion from the chair to toss
at him, and he retreated into the bathroom with a laugh. Minutes later she
heard water running.
She found a magazine and curled up with it. How
odd this felt, to share a room with a man. Even the sounds of bathing were
intimate. She wondered what Cole looked like without his clothing. She'd never
seen him that way. The one night they'd been intimate, he'd never turned on the
light. In fact, looking back, she was almost certain that he hadn't even
undressed completely. Since he'd come home from France, she'd never seen his
shirt open, or off, and most of the cowhands went bare-chested from time to
time, especially in summer. But not Cole. Not ever these days.
Involuntarily her mind went back to the day he'd
left to join his unit for overseas duty. His shirt had been off then, and he'd
kissed her and kissed her. She remembered tugging hungrily on the thick hair
that covered his broad chest, how it had felt to be close to him, to let him
kiss her. She'd thought it was a beginning, but it hadn't been. He hadn't even
written just to her alone once he was gone. And when he came back, he couldn't
bear to let her touch him at all. Not until that morning in the barn, before
he'd come to her room that one night after they'd married. But that was a sad,
shaming memory. He'd hurt her badly, and she'd cried. They hadn't talked about
it until he'd come to see her in San Antonio. It was still hard to discuss it.
Thinking back made her sad. She shook her head
as if to clear it. Then an article in the magazine caught her eye and she
became engrossed in it.
He came out of the bathroom much later, clad in
pajamas and a flowing robe. It was his room, after all; he had clothing in the
closets, too, next to the ones she'd put there on her arrival. She looked up,
forcing a smile.
"You look a few shades lighter," she
remarked dryly.
He chuckled, pausing at the vanity mirror to
sweep back his straight, thick hair with a comb. It was wet, almost black with
dampness, and although he was completely covered in the navy pajamas and robe,
it was so intimate to see him in nightclothes.
He saw her expression in the
Similar Books
