here alone."
Sam didn't care why she stayed. All he cared about was that she'd be reasonably safe for tonight. In the morning he'd have a better idea of what their next move should be. In the morning his desire for her would be an obvious case of propinquity.
In the morning a lot of things might happen.
Chapter 6
W hen Babs awoke the next morning, Sam was already up and more-or-less dressed. He'd only managed to shrug into half his shirt and he was muttering to himself as he fished around for the other sleeve. She lay still, watching him. During the njght the bruises on his ribs had turned a rather colorful shade of purple, but they did nothing to detract from his smooth tanned skin and corded muscles.
His searching hand found the sleeve and he shrugged into the other half of the shirt, his movements stiff. He turned, as if sensing that she was awake. Their eyes met, sleepy brown and electric blue. Unspoken lay the memory of the kiss they'd shared. Unconsciously, Babs's tongue flicked out, wetting her lower lip in a nervous gesture. Sam's gaze flickered to her mouth, and was as warm and potent as a kiss. The tension stretched between them.
Sam was the first to break the silence. "How did you sleep?"
Babs dragged her eyes from his, sitting up in bed and shoving her hair out of her eyes. "Okay, I guess. How well are you supposed to sleep after finding out that your own family had you kidnapped?"
"I don't know. You'd probably have to ask Emily Post."
He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, his bruised hands awkward. Babs swung her legs out of bed and stood up, tugging uneasily at the bottom of Sam's shirt. Funny how it had seemed to be a perfectly adequate covering until now. She hovered next to the bed, torn between her common sense, which told her to go put on her own clothes, and her compassion, which urged her to help him with his buttons.
"Here. Let me help you with those."
Sam watched her, his eyes wary as she crossed over the few feet that separated them and pushed his hands aside. Her fingers brushed against the mat of black hair that covered his chest. Babs fumbled with the buttons, feeling as clumsy as he had been, only she didn't have the excuse of bruises. She could feel his eyes watching her and it brought a deliciously nervous feeling.
"You really aren't very big, are you?" They were so close that his breath stirred her hair.
"Five foot and a half inch."
"A half inch?"
"Well, it may be only a quarter but I like to give myself the benefit of the doubt." She slid the last button through the proper buttonhole and looked up at him, her smile mischievous. "When you're short, you've got to take advantage of every fraction."
"I can imagine." Sam murmured the words, his eyes on her face. Her hair was tousled wildly around her delicate features, she didn't have on a trace of makeup, she was wearing a wrinkled shirt that was miles too big for her and he couldn't remember when he'd seen a more attractive woman.
He reached up to brush her hair back, seeing the way her eyes widened at the casual gesture. One of her hands still rested against his chest. The light pressure seemed to leave an imprint on his skin.
He dropped his hand, stepping away, feeling as if he were backing off from temptation. "The water at this motel is a lot hotter than the last one. At least it was half an hour ago."
The hint was impossible to ignore. Babs turned and picked up her clothes, feeling half hurt and half relieved. Sam Delanian confused her. He brought out feelings in her that Babs didn't understand and wasn't sure she wanted to face. Maybe some of the confusion would wash away in a hot shower.
If the shower didn't solve all her problems, it did leave her feeling better able to face them. The way Sam made her feel was perfectly understandable when she put it in context. The man had saved her life more than once. It was only natural that she was grateful. But it wouldn't do to confuse gratitude with anything else.
When she
Sam didn't care why she stayed. All he cared about was that she'd be reasonably safe for tonight. In the morning he'd have a better idea of what their next move should be. In the morning his desire for her would be an obvious case of propinquity.
In the morning a lot of things might happen.
Chapter 6
W hen Babs awoke the next morning, Sam was already up and more-or-less dressed. He'd only managed to shrug into half his shirt and he was muttering to himself as he fished around for the other sleeve. She lay still, watching him. During the njght the bruises on his ribs had turned a rather colorful shade of purple, but they did nothing to detract from his smooth tanned skin and corded muscles.
His searching hand found the sleeve and he shrugged into the other half of the shirt, his movements stiff. He turned, as if sensing that she was awake. Their eyes met, sleepy brown and electric blue. Unspoken lay the memory of the kiss they'd shared. Unconsciously, Babs's tongue flicked out, wetting her lower lip in a nervous gesture. Sam's gaze flickered to her mouth, and was as warm and potent as a kiss. The tension stretched between them.
Sam was the first to break the silence. "How did you sleep?"
Babs dragged her eyes from his, sitting up in bed and shoving her hair out of her eyes. "Okay, I guess. How well are you supposed to sleep after finding out that your own family had you kidnapped?"
"I don't know. You'd probably have to ask Emily Post."
He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, his bruised hands awkward. Babs swung her legs out of bed and stood up, tugging uneasily at the bottom of Sam's shirt. Funny how it had seemed to be a perfectly adequate covering until now. She hovered next to the bed, torn between her common sense, which told her to go put on her own clothes, and her compassion, which urged her to help him with his buttons.
"Here. Let me help you with those."
Sam watched her, his eyes wary as she crossed over the few feet that separated them and pushed his hands aside. Her fingers brushed against the mat of black hair that covered his chest. Babs fumbled with the buttons, feeling as clumsy as he had been, only she didn't have the excuse of bruises. She could feel his eyes watching her and it brought a deliciously nervous feeling.
"You really aren't very big, are you?" They were so close that his breath stirred her hair.
"Five foot and a half inch."
"A half inch?"
"Well, it may be only a quarter but I like to give myself the benefit of the doubt." She slid the last button through the proper buttonhole and looked up at him, her smile mischievous. "When you're short, you've got to take advantage of every fraction."
"I can imagine." Sam murmured the words, his eyes on her face. Her hair was tousled wildly around her delicate features, she didn't have on a trace of makeup, she was wearing a wrinkled shirt that was miles too big for her and he couldn't remember when he'd seen a more attractive woman.
He reached up to brush her hair back, seeing the way her eyes widened at the casual gesture. One of her hands still rested against his chest. The light pressure seemed to leave an imprint on his skin.
He dropped his hand, stepping away, feeling as if he were backing off from temptation. "The water at this motel is a lot hotter than the last one. At least it was half an hour ago."
The hint was impossible to ignore. Babs turned and picked up her clothes, feeling half hurt and half relieved. Sam Delanian confused her. He brought out feelings in her that Babs didn't understand and wasn't sure she wanted to face. Maybe some of the confusion would wash away in a hot shower.
If the shower didn't solve all her problems, it did leave her feeling better able to face them. The way Sam made her feel was perfectly understandable when she put it in context. The man had saved her life more than once. It was only natural that she was grateful. But it wouldn't do to confuse gratitude with anything else.
When she
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