with. He just hadn't found the time or the energy to go looking for this woman. And somehow, the enigmatic Miss Severin just didn't seem to fit his description of the gal he was looking for.
In fact, the thought of marrying her was just a little unnerving.
He punched the pillow again. Actually, the thought was more like a nightmare, only his eyes were open and his mind was foggy with weariness.
The thought of toppling Desirée onto his bed and relieving his frustration was tempting and delightfully wicked, but she was not marriageable.
There was very little he was certain about in this life, but one thing he'd bet the Bar None on: Desirée Severin might make her living speaking to the dead, but he was certain she knew how to breathe life back into a man. And he'd pretend to be dead, if only she would resuscitate him at least once. Nothing permanent, just a momentary lapse of conscience where she could put her luscious lips on his and restore him to life.
Desirée was beautiful and seductive, she was spirited and exciting, and she was tempting beyond words. But for the sake of his heart, he couldn't let himself be tempted into forgetting she was a sweet, cunning con artist and a thief besides.
***
The next morning Rose awoke early, her mind filled with memories from the night before. Tenderly, she touched her still-wrapped hands and found them sensitive, but not painful, as she'd feared.
Though the sun was barely over the horizon, the sound of people moving downstairs drifted upward, riding a wave of tempting aroma. Swinging her legs over the side of the mattress, she reached for the remainder of her dress at the foot of the bed. Her petticoat would no doubt show clearly through the rips and tears in the calico material.
With nothing else to put on, she hurried down the stairs, her mind filled with thoughts of how Travis would receive her this morning. She touched her fingertips to her lips and remembered the caress of his mouth against hers, the tempting heat of his body, and the fact she'd considered falling into his bed.
Last night Travis had treated her with tenderness and compassion. He'd been responsive and gentle while he'd bandaged her hands, but his invitation had distracted and confused her. Today, would the compassionate man of midnight or the law-abiding authoritarian have returned? Had he always been so serious, so logical, and so demanding?
Yet when he smiled, the corners of his tempting mouth turned up, his cheekbones were outlined by the muscles in his face, and the gleam in his eyes was almost enough to cause a girl to swoon. The Texas countryside oozed from his pores, and she knew without asking that the man had ridden his share of the range.
Adept at keeping his emotions carefully hidden behind his hardened cowboy exterior, Travis was a man of few words and even less expression. Rose was not afraid of his rough voice and clipped responses. There was a certain challenge in exploring the man— like finding the creamy center in a chocolate candy. Gooey and yummy, not bitter and hard.
She laughed at the image and knew she'd find the real Travis Burnett. Somehow she'd get past his tough exterior and discover which man was the true Travis.
Rose pushed open the door and strolled into the dining room. Eugenia glanced up. "Good morning, Desirée. I'm surprised to see you up and about so early this morning."
"Good morning," she answered, turning her attention to Travis, trying to gauge his reaction since their last meeting.
Travis gave her a measured look. "How are your hands?"
"They're better," she said, as she took her place at the table.
"My, my, I hope they're not painful," Eugenia exclaimed.
It was obvious Travis had informed his mother of her escapade the night before. "No, Travis took care of them last night."
Eugenia stood and pushed back her chair. "I'll tell Cook to bring you a cup of coffee and some breakfast."
"Do you have tea?" Rose questioned.
"I'll check," Eugenia said, going
In fact, the thought of marrying her was just a little unnerving.
He punched the pillow again. Actually, the thought was more like a nightmare, only his eyes were open and his mind was foggy with weariness.
The thought of toppling Desirée onto his bed and relieving his frustration was tempting and delightfully wicked, but she was not marriageable.
There was very little he was certain about in this life, but one thing he'd bet the Bar None on: Desirée Severin might make her living speaking to the dead, but he was certain she knew how to breathe life back into a man. And he'd pretend to be dead, if only she would resuscitate him at least once. Nothing permanent, just a momentary lapse of conscience where she could put her luscious lips on his and restore him to life.
Desirée was beautiful and seductive, she was spirited and exciting, and she was tempting beyond words. But for the sake of his heart, he couldn't let himself be tempted into forgetting she was a sweet, cunning con artist and a thief besides.
***
The next morning Rose awoke early, her mind filled with memories from the night before. Tenderly, she touched her still-wrapped hands and found them sensitive, but not painful, as she'd feared.
Though the sun was barely over the horizon, the sound of people moving downstairs drifted upward, riding a wave of tempting aroma. Swinging her legs over the side of the mattress, she reached for the remainder of her dress at the foot of the bed. Her petticoat would no doubt show clearly through the rips and tears in the calico material.
With nothing else to put on, she hurried down the stairs, her mind filled with thoughts of how Travis would receive her this morning. She touched her fingertips to her lips and remembered the caress of his mouth against hers, the tempting heat of his body, and the fact she'd considered falling into his bed.
Last night Travis had treated her with tenderness and compassion. He'd been responsive and gentle while he'd bandaged her hands, but his invitation had distracted and confused her. Today, would the compassionate man of midnight or the law-abiding authoritarian have returned? Had he always been so serious, so logical, and so demanding?
Yet when he smiled, the corners of his tempting mouth turned up, his cheekbones were outlined by the muscles in his face, and the gleam in his eyes was almost enough to cause a girl to swoon. The Texas countryside oozed from his pores, and she knew without asking that the man had ridden his share of the range.
Adept at keeping his emotions carefully hidden behind his hardened cowboy exterior, Travis was a man of few words and even less expression. Rose was not afraid of his rough voice and clipped responses. There was a certain challenge in exploring the man— like finding the creamy center in a chocolate candy. Gooey and yummy, not bitter and hard.
She laughed at the image and knew she'd find the real Travis Burnett. Somehow she'd get past his tough exterior and discover which man was the true Travis.
Rose pushed open the door and strolled into the dining room. Eugenia glanced up. "Good morning, Desirée. I'm surprised to see you up and about so early this morning."
"Good morning," she answered, turning her attention to Travis, trying to gauge his reaction since their last meeting.
Travis gave her a measured look. "How are your hands?"
"They're better," she said, as she took her place at the table.
"My, my, I hope they're not painful," Eugenia exclaimed.
It was obvious Travis had informed his mother of her escapade the night before. "No, Travis took care of them last night."
Eugenia stood and pushed back her chair. "I'll tell Cook to bring you a cup of coffee and some breakfast."
"Do you have tea?" Rose questioned.
"I'll check," Eugenia said, going
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