One Stubborn Cowboy by Barbara McMahon Page A

wanted nothing to do with her.
    She scooted around to face him, rising up on her knees to be higher than he was. Her hands reached out and jerked his shirt, her blue eyes blazing down into his.
    "Now just a damn minute, Kit Lockford. Don't you go telling me what will turn my stomach, because you don't know me at all. Are you so caught up in perfection that a slight imperfection is cause to reject a person?"
    "Of course not. But—"
    "But nothing, cowboy. Let me see." She tugged at his shirt, popping two buttons he'd already fastened. He pulled the shirt closed, trying to fend her off, but she jerked up the edge and stared at the lines that crisscrossed his skin.
    Lightly she traced them. His muscles jerked beneath her touch.
    Mischievously she grinned up at him. "Are you ticklish?"
    "No." But the way he said it, she knew.
    She ran her fingers over his side and he squirmed away, laughing. "Stop it."
    She laughed and leaned closer, her hands on his shoulders. Her smile faded and she leaned even closer.
    "You better hope I have a strong stomach or you're going to have a mess all over you." She closed the distance to his lips and kissed him hard.
    Pulling away before he could reach for her, she snapped up to her feet, straightening her shorts, pulling her sadly wrinkled shirt down, trying to stretch out some of the wrinkles.
    "They are not so bad," she said, catching his gaze.
    "The worst are lower," he said, buttoning his shirt, searching around for his hat.
    He refused to meet her eye and Kelly wondered at the awful words he had said. Her heart ached for him.
    "What do you do with your other women, make love in the dark? Only let them touch your shoulders?" she asked as she went to get the bag and cooler to load in the back of the truck. She tucked her pad into the brown bag.
    "There are no other women," he said shortly.
    She looked at him. "Since when?"
    "Since the accident."
    "How long ago?"
    "Over two years."
    She stared in disbelief. This gorgeous hunk of man was telling her he had not made love in over two years? What was wrong with the women in Tuolumne County? What was wrong with him?
    "Why not?" She sank down, her legs refusing to hold her.
    "Why the hell do you think? I told you the worst ones are lower."
    "I can't wait for you to show than to me," she said.
    "Hell, Kelly, I'm not such a masochist that I'll set myself up for something like that. There won't be another time."
    She saw the determination in his eyes, but was too stunned to argue. Slowly she gathered the things and put them in the truck.
    Going back, she knew she still had to help him rise. Would he let her?
    He had his crutches beside him, his left leg bent, boot firmly planted on the ground.
    "What do you want me to do?" she asked, avoiding his glance lest he see the hurt she was feeling.
    "Let's try it with you behind me. If I can get enough leverage to get up on the crutch handles, I can make it up the rest of the way."
    She went behind him and waited until he had the crutches beside him. Then she reached beneath his arms, and straightened. He came up as easily as if one leg wasn't totally useless. She held him for a brief second before stepping back. Leaning over, she folded the blanket, keeping her face averted.
    "Thanks." The word was forced out. She could hear the strain and bitterness behind it.
    "Sure." She went to the truck, tossed the blanket in back and climbed in, almost burning her legs on the hot seat. She carefully fastened her seat belt. Even with the windows open, the cab felt like an oven.
    When Kit got in, his face was shuttered, closed. He didn't say anything, just started the truck and slammed it into gear.
    The ride home was long and tension filled. Kelly resolutely stared out of her side window, her lips tightly closed against the pain now growing in her heart. She knew the rodeo accident had been awful, traumatic, changing the entire course of his life. But in two years he should be more reconciled. Especially to the scars.
    Her