confidential matter.
âFriend of yours?â she asked, tapping the paper.
âNo, itâs probably related to the work Iâm doing for Marshal Hayes. He mentioned the Pinkertons were investigating train robberies.â Degan almost sounded annoyed when he added, âHe wasnât supposed to tell his superiors that I was temporarily taking over for him while heâs away. It appears that he did anyway.â
She grinned. âOr maybe they think youâve become aââ He glanced at her so sharply she didnât finish, admitting instead, âOkay, bad joke. Besides, the railroads would go out of business if you started robbingââ His look turned so dark she flinched this time. âIâll just shut up now.â
She was surprised to hear him request that hot water be delivered to his room, but didnât comment on it. Talking to him was actually more aggravating than not talking to him. And sheâd been doing far too much of that. She supposed it was nervous chatter. He did make her a little nervous, but only because she couldnât figure him out. With most folks, you had plenty of warning about what they might do. With Degan Grant, you just got surprised.
But on the way up to his room she began to wonder about that hot water. Was he was going to have a bath before delivering her to jail? That would definitely be odd. Or was he that fastidious? Actually, as polished as his appearance was, she wouldnât be surprised if he was the sort who had to have a bath every day no matter what, and heâd probably missed a day or two while searching for her in the hills. So he might just feel he couldnât wait another minute to get cleaned up. She wished heâd said so, so she couldâve laughed at him.
She used to be like thatâonce upon a time. Now she didnât have that luxury and had gotten used to the grime. But as they neared his room on the second floor, she didnât feel like laughing. She was getting quite nervous. Was he going to strip down in front of her? What if he ordered her to scrub his back? That would mean sheâd have to put her hands on that hard, strong, strapping body of his! She couldnât, wouldnât. Sheâd been disconcerted enough when heâd slid her down his body at the restaurant. What could he be thinking, bathing with her in the room?
Max froze as he opened the door. Now would be the time to run, but as if heâd read her mind, he put his hand on her back and gave her a little push inside. The room was nice, but then it was one of the biggest hotels Max had ever seen, so that wasnât surprising. A large bed with a beautiful burgundy brocade cover, two stuffed chairs in a dark rose material with a low table between them, a small desk, a large wardrobe, and a soft carpet underfoot. If his valise werenât already in the room, she would have thought he hadnât been in it until now, it was so neat and clean. She set her saddlebags down and went over to one of the two windows. They both faced the street, with no porch roof below them for her to hop out on. Damn.
Turning around, she watched Degan stripping the bed of what had appeared to be clean bedding. He crossed the room to drop the whole bundle in the hall outside his door. She raised a brow at him when he turned back around, but he wasnât interested in giving her an explanation. He did leave the door open though. If he would just move farther into the room, she could make a mad dash for it. . . .
Then the water arrived, four buckets carried by two young men, who emptied them in the tub behind a screen in the corner. That was fast, Max thought. But they werenât done. A few minutes later, they were back with another four buckets. She figured the water source had to be closer than downstairs. They left one bucket full for rinsing, then asked Degan if he needed anything else. He shook his head and closed the door after them
âFriend of yours?â she asked, tapping the paper.
âNo, itâs probably related to the work Iâm doing for Marshal Hayes. He mentioned the Pinkertons were investigating train robberies.â Degan almost sounded annoyed when he added, âHe wasnât supposed to tell his superiors that I was temporarily taking over for him while heâs away. It appears that he did anyway.â
She grinned. âOr maybe they think youâve become aââ He glanced at her so sharply she didnât finish, admitting instead, âOkay, bad joke. Besides, the railroads would go out of business if you started robbingââ His look turned so dark she flinched this time. âIâll just shut up now.â
She was surprised to hear him request that hot water be delivered to his room, but didnât comment on it. Talking to him was actually more aggravating than not talking to him. And sheâd been doing far too much of that. She supposed it was nervous chatter. He did make her a little nervous, but only because she couldnât figure him out. With most folks, you had plenty of warning about what they might do. With Degan Grant, you just got surprised.
But on the way up to his room she began to wonder about that hot water. Was he was going to have a bath before delivering her to jail? That would definitely be odd. Or was he that fastidious? Actually, as polished as his appearance was, she wouldnât be surprised if he was the sort who had to have a bath every day no matter what, and heâd probably missed a day or two while searching for her in the hills. So he might just feel he couldnât wait another minute to get cleaned up. She wished heâd said so, so she couldâve laughed at him.
She used to be like thatâonce upon a time. Now she didnât have that luxury and had gotten used to the grime. But as they neared his room on the second floor, she didnât feel like laughing. She was getting quite nervous. Was he going to strip down in front of her? What if he ordered her to scrub his back? That would mean sheâd have to put her hands on that hard, strong, strapping body of his! She couldnât, wouldnât. Sheâd been disconcerted enough when heâd slid her down his body at the restaurant. What could he be thinking, bathing with her in the room?
Max froze as he opened the door. Now would be the time to run, but as if heâd read her mind, he put his hand on her back and gave her a little push inside. The room was nice, but then it was one of the biggest hotels Max had ever seen, so that wasnât surprising. A large bed with a beautiful burgundy brocade cover, two stuffed chairs in a dark rose material with a low table between them, a small desk, a large wardrobe, and a soft carpet underfoot. If his valise werenât already in the room, she would have thought he hadnât been in it until now, it was so neat and clean. She set her saddlebags down and went over to one of the two windows. They both faced the street, with no porch roof below them for her to hop out on. Damn.
Turning around, she watched Degan stripping the bed of what had appeared to be clean bedding. He crossed the room to drop the whole bundle in the hall outside his door. She raised a brow at him when he turned back around, but he wasnât interested in giving her an explanation. He did leave the door open though. If he would just move farther into the room, she could make a mad dash for it. . . .
Then the water arrived, four buckets carried by two young men, who emptied them in the tub behind a screen in the corner. That was fast, Max thought. But they werenât done. A few minutes later, they were back with another four buckets. She figured the water source had to be closer than downstairs. They left one bucket full for rinsing, then asked Degan if he needed anything else. He shook his head and closed the door after them
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