Whirlwind Groom by Debra Cowan Page A

the saddlebag closest to him. He had the undergarment halfway out before he realized he couldn’t go waltzing back to the hotel and up to her room carrying the darn thing in plain sight. Stuffing the corset back inside the leather pouch, he tugged his saddlebags off the buckskin and carried them back to the hotel.
    He paused in her doorway. Her full attention was focused out the window. No doubt on his jail. Yes, he really needed to hear from that sheriff. His jaw tightened. “Here you go.”
    She jerked toward him, flushing guiltily. She was still pale and he noticed a slight trembling in her body, which was what caused him to waver about questioning her. But if she was well enough to resume her spying, she could damn well answer him.
    Stopping about a foot away, he flipped open the leather pouch and pulled out her corset, dangling it in front of her.
    She flushed deeper, the blush tinting her neck.
    He bit back a smile at the shock in her eyes over his familiar handling of her undergarment. He sure did like vexing her. “Where do you want it?”
    She snatched it from him, crushing it as small as she could. Josie was used to seeing undergarments, discussing them delicately with men who wanted something new for their wives, but she wasn’t used to men handling hers. And certainly not in front of her. His hands were big and dark against the lightly boned eggshell fabric. She remembered those hands on her, braced herself against a stirring deep inside.
    He didn’t act the least bit uncomfortable. He probably handled women’s underwear with obscene regularity, she thought irritably.
    Reaching back into the saddlebag, he withdrew her scalpel. “I suppose you’ll be wanting this—” his gaze dipped to her bosom “—where you can get to it.”
    â€œI’d like to get to it right now,” she muttered.
    At his low chuckle, her fingers curled tighter around the soft edge of her corset. She forced herself to release her grip and hold out her hand. He passed the instrument to her carefully.
    â€œThank you.” His gaze was hot on her breasts and he was probably wondering if she would slip it into the secret pocket of her bodice. But she laid the scalpel on the windowsill.
    She expected him to go now. Instead he stayed where he was, filling up the room with his heat and size and purely male scent. His gaze slid over her. “How are you feeling?”
    â€œStill weak, but much better.” Unsure of what he was about, she gave him a tentative smile. She was unreasonably glad he wasn’t leaving as quickly as he generally did.
    â€œGood. Glad to hear it.” His gaze traced the hair that had fallen over her shoulder onto her breasts, moved downher torso and all the way to her black boots. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
    She tensed, expecting a question about her interest in the jail. “Yes?”
    â€œWho’s William?”
    William! Josie’s heartbeat stuttered.
    Davis Lee folded his big arms and stared expectantly at her.
    Pain, loss, anger shot through her. “W-why do you ask?”
    â€œYou mentioned him during your fever.”
    â€œI did?” What else had she said? McDougal’s name, too? Rattled, she pressed her spine into the chair. “He was my fiancé.”
    â€œWas?” he probed.
    She didn’t owe him an explanation, didn’t want to give him one, but she found herself saying baldly, “He died.”
    The sheriff waited a long moment. “What happened?”
    As if she would tell him. “I can’t talk about it. It’s too…upsetting.”
    â€œWhen did it happen?”
    â€œTwo years ago.” Why did he care? Why didn’t he just go?
    Impatience flashed across the lawman’s strong features and she fully expected he would press but finally he said in a strained voice, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
    She nodded stiffly, shaken that she