Kitabı oku: «Whirlwind Groom»
The hard warmth of his body proved very distracting. “Do the ladies you know carry weapons, Sheriff?”
“We’re fixin’ to find out.”
His silky voice did things to her insides that she couldn’t recall having ever experienced with her late fiancé. “I don’t have a gun. I told you I want to learn how to shoot.”
His gaze slid down her body, then back up to meet her eyes. “Do you want me to search you?”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“I will if you don’t show me what you’ve got hidden.”
“What kind of man are you that you would put your hands on me?”
“The kind who wants an answer,” he said hotly. “Now, either show me or I’ll get it myself.”
The thrill that shot through her veins told Josie she did not want this man touching her. She instinctively knew she wouldn’t forget it…!
Praise for new Historical author Debra Cowan’s previous titles
“Penning great emotional depth in her characters, Debra Cowan will warm the coldest of winter nights.”
—Romantic Times on Still the One
“Debra Cowan skillfully brings to vivid life all the complicated feelings of love and guilt when a moment of consolation turns into unexpected passion.”
—Romantic Times on One Silent Night
“The recurrent humor and vivid depiction of small-town Western life make Debra Cowan’s story thoroughly pleasurable.”
—Romantic Times on The Matchmaker
Whirlwind Groom
Debra Cowan
MILLS & BOON
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To guys in white hats.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter One
West Texas, 1884
T oday was the day and Josie Webster’s nerves were as twitchy as fat on a hot skillet. In the building September heat, she watched the jail of Whirlwind, Texas, and waited for her chance. Only a minute or so now, and she would have it.
Covered by shadows, she stood across the street from the sheriff’s office. The alleyway between the livery stable and saloon was warm, but at least out of the sun. Main Street, wide enough for two wagons to travel at once, bustled as people made their way through town for supplies or business. On the east end of town toward Abilene, a church at the center point of Main and North Street served as the school and had opened its doors to students almost two hours ago. The telegraph and post office as well as the Whirlwind Hotel shared the same side of the street as the jail.
Three doors to her left a thin, older man swept the porch in front of Haskell’s General Store. Directly across from her was the blacksmithy. No one paid a lick of attention to her.
Heart hammering in her chest, she patted the scalpel tucked inside the special sleeve she’d sewn into her bodice. Her doctor father had taught her and her mother how to use the instrument as a weapon after an attack by an old beau had nearly gotten her mother raped. The blade was a reassuring reminder that Josie would never be at the mercy of a killer like the one who sat in the jailhouse across from her.
Nearly two years ago, Ian McDougal had murdered her parents and fiancé in Galveston. Because of a corrupt judge, the outlaw had walked away without spending one night in jail. He and his brothers had resumed their killing spree throughout Texas. When the other three had been killed a few months ago in a shoot-out near Whirlwind, Ian had escaped. He had finally been captured near Austin by a U.S. Marshal. Now he awaited trial in this small town hundreds of miles from Josie’s home.
She had arrived the end of August, and in the four days since she had reached this breezy dry town on the other side of the vast state, she constantly felt parched, her throat gravelly. The stark air was quite a contrast to the thick, liquid air of her home on the Gulf.
So far, Whirlwind’s sheriff had followed the schedule Josie had observed the past few days. He had already finished his first cup of coffee, taken the prisoner out to relieve himself in the outhouse behind the jail and whittled something. Now it was time for the sheriff to leave his deputy in charge and go over to the Pearl Restaurant for the piece of pie he had every morning at nine-forty-five.
After distracting the deputy, she would be in and out of that jail before the sheriff finished his pie. Then she would finally be able to rest easy for the first time since the cold-blooded murders of her parents and fiancé, William Hill.
As the second hand on her watch clicked into place, the jail door opened and the sheriff stepped out. His fawn-colored cowboy hat didn’t hide the rugged lines of his face or the strong profile. He probably wasn’t more than eight or nine years older than Josie’s own twenty-one years and he looked like a man who could easily talk a girl out of her drawers. He was handsome in a powerful way with a disarming smile that might be able to tempt her to forget serious things and enjoy herself.
Thank goodness she wasn’t tempted. All she cared about was the lower-than-snake-spit murderer inside Whirlwind’s jail. For the past four days, she had seethed as the sheriff took a leisurely stroll after his morning break before going back to his office. Impatience prodded at her, but she wanted to do this right. McDougal was in jail just waiting for her and he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.
The lanky sheriff sauntered down the steps, his boots finally touching dirt. A breath eased out of Josie, releasing some of the pressure squeezing her chest. The man paused, one thumb hooked in the waistband of his denims, one resting on the butt end of a gun strapped to his lean hips.
Go. Go on, she urged silently, her pulse spiking. She still had to get past the deputy, but that wouldn’t be hard.
The sheriff adjusted his hat, lifted a hand in greeting to the giant black man hammering an anvil at the smithy next door to the jail then turned toward the restaurant at his right.
But he didn’t head for the Pearl as she had expected. Instead he went the other way and started across the wide main street…straight for her!
His gaze narrowed on her like a gun sight. Her breath backed up in her throat. She would have run, but he had already seen her. Hightailing it out of there would only make him suspicious. She had no idea what she was about to do, but she had better come up with something.
When had he spotted her? This morning or before? She had thought herself well concealed and inconspicuous in the shadowy alley.
As the sheriff neared, she pasted a smile on her face. Her stomach shriveled into a knot.
“Howdy, ma’am.” He stopped inches away.
Her gaze crept up from dusty boots over long, long legs, lean hips and a massive chest to blue eyes. She hoped she was still smiling. “Hello.”
“I couldn’t help but notice you over here.” Davis Lee Holt tipped his hat, keeping his tone easy even though his senses were on full alert. That wasn’t due strictly to the petite beauty in front of him. Or the stunning green eyes studying him so warily. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, fine. I’m…new in town.”
He recalled seeing her get off the stage four days ago. He had waited and watched to see what she was up to, but he wasn’t waiting anymore. Last night, Ian McDougal had tried to escape.
The man had tuberculosis. Davis Lee had known of the condition even before Catherine Donnelly, now his cousin-in-law, had been forced several months ago by the oldest McDougal to use her nursing skills to ease Ian’s discomfort. Last night, the outlaw, the only living gang member, had been seized by a coughing fit. When Davis Lee’s sometime-deputy, Cody Tillman, had seen blood and gone inside the cell to help him, McDougal tried to overpower the man. The prisoner was too weak and Cody had subdued him soon enough, but the attempt had immediately made Davis Lee’s thoughts go to the brunette who had started skulking around town four days ago.
He flicked a glance at the swinging doors of Pete Carter’s saloon, which now also served as the stage stop. “Are you waitin’ on Pete?”
“Pete?”
Her accent was thick and honey-sweet. “He owns the saloon. Thought you might have business with him.”
“Lands, no. I’m a dressmaker.”
A dressmaker? That wasn’t in the least threatening, so why were his nerves twanging like new barbed wire? Why was she standing next to the saloon for the fourth day in a row?
He couldn’t ignore the pinch in his gut that told him the woman had some connection to Ian McDougal. His sweetheart maybe? Sister or some other relative? Davis Lee thumbed back his hat and asked pleasantly, “You just passin’ through, or are you thinkin’ about stayin’? Whirlwind could use a dressmaker. We don’t have one right now.”
“I suppose you know everyone in town.” She worried her lower lip.
“Yes, ma’am. And I watch the stage every day so I’ll know who might need a hand. I saw you get off the stage four days ago.”
Her eyes widened and he thought he saw a flicker of concern. Why? Had he interfered with something she planned to do?
“You remember seeing me get off the stage? That’s quite a memory, Sheriff.”
“It’s part of my job.” The fact was a man didn’t forget a face as pretty as hers. Especially a man who’d been made a fool of by a pretty face.
Her figure drew attention, too. She was small and perfectly proportioned. He had always favored a fuller bosom on a woman, but he found himself reconsidering that. Her pale green daydress fit just right, the square-necked bodice smoothing over small, high breasts and sleeking down a taut waist. His palms suddenly itched to touch and he tugged at his hat.
In the two years since he had been run out of Rock River and returned home, Davis Lee had taken to watching every passenger on every stage. He wouldn’t be taken unaware again.
Ever since that unfortunate incident in his last town, Davis Lee erred on the side of caution. He would’ve noticed this woman anyway because of her slender curves and air of confidence, but now he had a reason to keep an eye on her.
Maybe she had come to break McDougal out of jail or to provide a distraction while one of McDougal’s cronies sawed the bars from his cell window and helped him escape.
Davis Lee knew all about distractions, and he wasn’t falling for this one, no matter that she looked sweeter than fresh cream and smelled as tempting as rain. Her skin flushed in a way that made him wonder if she turned that delicious shade of pink all over in the right circumstances.
Annoyed at his line of thinking, he removed his hat and offered his hand. “I’m Davis Lee Holt.”
“Josie. Webster.” Though she accepted his handshake, she seemed to give the information reluctantly.
The name she gave was the same one she used at the Whirlwind Hotel. Davis Lee had already been there and checked the register on the sly so the clerk wouldn’t know. The last thing he needed was Penn Wavers blabbing. The near-deaf man was as big a gossip as any old woman. “You stayin’ at the Whirlwind?”
“For now. I’m thinking about opening a shop, but I heard about the outlaws around here.”
Her lips curved in an innocent, blinding smile and Davis Lee felt like he’d been kicked in the head. He slid his hat back on. “Is your family with you?”
“I’m alone.”
Which told him nothing. Her short, light-colored gloves prevented him from seeing if she wore a wedding ring. Was she married? Did she have children? Usually any small prod for information caused people to talk, especially women. Those who didn’t have anything to hide anyway.
She gave a small curtsy and stepped around him so that she now stood out in the open.
The mid-morning sun brought out a red tint in her brown hair, which she wore pulled away from her face with a ribbon so that the thick wavy mass tumbled down her back. Her velvety-looking skin had a slight golden cast; a bunch of freckles were scattered across the bridge of her nose.
She was the prettiest baggage he’d seen in a good long while. Since Betsy—or whatever her real name was—in Rock River, truth be told. The memory of the woman who’d stolen Davis Lee’s heart and half the townspeople’s money squashed the interest sparked by Josie Webster.
She eyed the street. “I thought I should find out for myself if this town is safe.”
“I take my job very seriously.” He wondered what secrets she hid behind those pretty green eyes, because he was sure she had some. “I can’t provide individual protection for everyone, but my deputy and I do a pretty good job. We had some trouble a while back with the McDougals, but that’s over now.”
Thanks to a U.S. Marshal named Waterson Calhoun, Ian McDougal had been captured near Austin and now sat in jail waiting to get what was coming to him. Since Davis Lee didn’t know if Miz Webster had told the truth about why she was in Whirlwind, he saw no reason to tell her that the sole survivor of the outlaw gang was locked up snug across the street.
“Your…diligence is reassuring,” she said without meeting his gaze. “I do like what I’ve seen of the town so far. If I decide to stay, I’d want to feel safe.”
“We all do, ma’am. Three of the McDougals are dead, but I heard the last one has been locked up somewhere.”
“That makes me feel better.”
He carefully searched her face for some sign that she knew the outlaw, that she had more than a passing interest in the man. “You said you were from Austin?”
“No, Galveston,” she replied easily.
She hadn’t said at all, but Davis Lee knew from the automatic way she’d responded that she was probably telling the truth. He also noticed the irritation that flared in her eyes when she gave the information.
“Thank you, Sheriff. You’ve put my mind at ease.”
Funny, he thought she acted a trifle vexed. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call on me. Like I said, Whirlwind could use a seamstress. Hope you stay.”
She nodded, her gaze flicking past him to the jail for just a moment.
Was she afraid? Or was she trying to figure out how she could get inside to see Ian McDougal? If she were, she’d have to go through Davis Lee first. “I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about in Whirlwind.”
“Thank you.” She bid him good day and stepped up on the saloon’s landing, making her way down the walk toward Haskell’s General Store.
Watching the inviting sway of her hips, he stroked his chin. Maybe Miz Josie Webster’s only concern truly was about moving to Whirlwind. Maybe she had been watching the town to reassure herself about its safety.
His eyes narrowed. Yessir, and cows had wings.
Chapter Two
T he sheriff was going to be a problem, Josie fumed as she ducked inside Haskell’s General Store just to escape the hard gaze boring into her back. A thin man, only about six inches taller than her five-foot-three, was showing a customer to the boots in the far corner of the store. Although she took in the colorful bolts of fabric, barrels of nails and a stack of wooden tubs around her, her mind was on Davis Lee Holt.
She burned to march back to him and demand he give Ian McDougal over to her, but she knew that would be futile. In the past two years, her faith in the law had been shaken. Or perhaps she had simply had her eyes opened.
The fact that Ian McDougal had run out of her house and smack into her after killing her parents and fiancé had been dismissed out of hand. Despite the attorney and sheriff who knew she told the truth, Judge Shelton Horn had declared her testimony wasn’t enough to convene a trial for the murderer. But the real reason the judge had let McDougal walk away was because he had never gotten over the fact that Josie’s mother had chosen her father over him all those years ago.
The thought of the people Josie had loved and lost tightened her chest. And the prospect of having to deal with Whirlwind’s lawman settled a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sheriff Holt threw her off balance. She had never planned on telling him about Galveston and yet she’d been so confounded when he walked right up to her that she had blurted out where she was from the instant he asked.
She certainly couldn’t watch the jail from that alley anymore so she had to find another place. And if Holt kept interfering, she would have to stay in Whirlwind a lot longer than she had planned.
She had to be extremely careful next time, but she had every intention of getting access to Ian McDougal.
Then killing him.
Up close Sheriff Holt was rugged and compelling and one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. It wasn’t hard to imagine that his blue eyes would go razor sharp if he were crossed. And the stubborn jaw told her that the man could intimidate if he chose, tin star or no tin star.
Surely the sheriff was gone by now. She edged between a wooden crate full of brooms and a barrel of pickles. The strong smell of brine reached her as she peeked out the wide front window of the general store. When she didn’t see the tall, lanky lawman, she left and started across the street for the Whirlwind Hotel. Another hotel, still under construction, stood at the other end of town, but Josie would’ve chosen the Whirlwind anyway because of its view of the jail.
Halting for a passing wagon, she mentally calculated the money stashed in her hidden skirt pocket. Being as good a seamstress as her mother, Josie had taken on Virginia Webster’s customers after her mother’s death so she had money to pay for her stay at the hotel. But she didn’t know how long she might need to stay. She had to keep back a good part of her money for when she finished with McDougal and fled town.
Sunlight glittered off the windows of the town’s businesses. Josie shaded her eyes as she continued across the street, angling away from the jail and toward the hotel three buildings away.
How was she going to keep an eye on the outlaw now that she knew the sheriff was keeping an eye on her? Her spot in the alley had been perfect, but thanks to Holt, she couldn’t go back there.
She had passed the telegraph and post office when an idea hit her. Stepping back a few feet into the street, she peered up at the hotel then shifted her gaze to the jail.
Smiling, her heels clicking against the planked porch, Josie hurried into the hotel and approached the long waxed wood counter.
Penn Wavers, the elderly clerk, slumped in a chair in the corner, snoring. Josie knew the gangly man was nearly deaf so she stomped on the floor, hoping the vibrations would wake him if her loud voice didn’t. “Mr. Wavers!”
“Huh?” His head drooped and he bolted upright, his long white hair flying. He blinked a couple of times as he stepped to the counter. “Oh, hello, miss.”
“It looks like I’ll be staying longer than I planned. I wonder if I might get a different room? Maybe one on the west side and closer to the front of the hotel?”
“Is there something wrong?” Age filmed his blue eyes, but they were kind. “If so, I’ll fix it.”
“No, sir. Nothing like that.” She smiled. “It’s just that I’m a dressmaker and since I have to sit for such long periods, I like to watch the sights. It relieves the tedium.”
“I’ve been told it’s louder in those front rooms. Wouldn’t you rather have something else?”
“I don’t mind the noise. I’m used to it, being from Galveston and all. I’m a little homesick.”
“Well, miss, I don’t mind moving you, but those rooms cost a little extra.”
“Even though they’re noisier?”
“They’re a mite bigger,” he explained apologetically.
More money? She had brought a few pieces of sewing from Galveston to finish up for some of her mother’s regular customers, but she wouldn’t be paid until she delivered the items. What would she do after that? She stared out the window, finally registering that the curtain hanging there was faded and worn.
“What would you think about making a bargain with me, Mr. Wavers?”
“What kind of barn?”
“No, a bargain,” she said louder.
“Oh, a bargain.” He eyed her for a moment. “What did you have in mind?”
“A west room closer to the front of the hotel in exchange for new curtains.”
He glanced at the faded calico drooping limply at the two large front windows. “If I buy the fabric, would you be willing to make some new tablecloths for the dining hall, too?”
That would be perfect! She pretended to consider.
He leaned in. “You could trade that for room and meals, as well.”
Her one meal here, cooked by Mrs. Wavers, had been delicious. “All right, you’ve got a deal.”
They shook on it, both smiling.
Mr. Wavers reached into a pigeonhole beneath the counter and handed her a key to her new room. “When can you start on those curtains?”
“Today if you like. Would you like me to pick out the fabric or would you like to do it?”
“I’ll leave that to you. The tablecloths, too.”
“Should I ask Mrs. Wavers if she has a preference as to color?”
“She can’t tell blue from green.” He gestured at Josie’s well-fitted cotton daydress. “Besides, you seem to know what you’re doing. I think she’d agree.”
“Wonderful! I’ll move my things then pick out something at Haskell’s.”
“I’ll go tell Charlie to put whatever you need on the hotel’s account. This will work out mighty fine.”
“I think so, too.”
“You must like Whirlwind if you’re planning to stay.”
“It seems like a nice place.” She glanced out the window, half expecting to find Sheriff Holt staring back at her. “I met the sheriff today. He seems…pleasant. What is he like?”
“Heh.” Mr. Wavers peered at her. “You sweet on him?”
“No! Nothing like that.” Just because she got a shiver when thinking of those piercing blue eyes did not mean she was sweet on him. She simply wanted to know what she was up against. “I’m…curious.”
“He’s a fine man. Had his share of troubles, but who hasn’t?”
Josie nodded, wondering what troubles the lawman had experienced. He had plainly wanted to know if she were married; she wondered the same about him. Perhaps his coming over to her only meant he was dedicated about doing his job, but Josie knew she couldn’t let down her guard around him.
“Thank you for letting me switch rooms, Mr. Wavers,” she said in a raised voice. “I’ll go move my things.”
She patted his hand and headed upstairs, smiling broadly.
Between the sewing she had brought to finish and the new curtains and tablecloths for the hotel, she would be busier than a one-armed bank robber. She needed to work quickly on the hotel’s items since she didn’t know how soon she would be leaving.
But for now she could watch the jail from her new room without attracting notice. When the time was right, she would make sure Ian McDougal saw justice. And that handsome sheriff wasn’t going to get in her way.
It had been two days since Davis Lee had seen Josie Webster’s pretty little hide in the alley. Since he’d seen her anywhere. So where was she? Was she still watching his jail? In case she was, he had taken the precaution of rearranging his schedule, which had caused him to miss his hot pie. If she had left town using the stage or a rig rented from the livery, he would’ve known.
Either she had left town by some other means or she was up to something. Intending to find out which, he shackled McDougal to the bars of his cell before going outside and locking the door to his office. He walked a slow but thorough path through town. No sign of her. When she’d left him the other day she had slipped into Haskell’s, so Davis Lee made the general store his last stop before the hotel. Maybe Charlie had seen her.
Davis Lee walked into the store, catching the sweet tang of apples as he said hello to Cal Doyle’s wife, Lizzie, who was leaving.
Charlie Haskell stood behind the scratched wooden counter, polishing his spectacles. The store owner was small-framed and spare. “Morning, Davis Lee. What can I do for you today?”
Mitchell Orr, Charlie’s eighteen-year-old nephew who helped in the store and kept the books, ducked through the faded blue curtain separating the store from the back office. He was dressed just as his uncle in dark trousers and a white shirt with suspenders. His wiry arms held several bolts of white fabric and a red, blue and yellow calico. “Hello, Sheriff.”
“Hey, Mitchell.” Davis Lee greeted the blond-haired boy before speaking to his uncle. “Just had a question, Charlie. A woman came in here the other day. She’s new to town. Has brown or well, maybe brownish-red hair—”
“You mean that pretty little thing who’s staying at the Whirlwind Hotel?” Charlie peered at him over the top of his glasses, his brown eyes sparking with interest.
Mitchell stopped at the edge of the counter. “Josie Webster?” he asked eagerly.
Davis Lee figured that a hundred unfamiliar women could have paraded through Haskell’s General Store, and Charlie and Mitchell would’ve known Josie. They weren’t likely to forget that heart-shaped face or that creamy skin. Or the graceful curves that made a man crazy to put his hands on her. He sure hadn’t been able to forget. “Yeah, that’s her.”
“She’s been in a couple of times,” Mitchell offered.
“When was the last time y’all saw her?”
Charlie thought for a minute.
“She was in yesterday for more thread,” the younger man said.
“And the day before to buy fabric for the hotel,” Charlie added. “She’s making new curtains and tablecloths for Penn and Esther.”
“Is that right?” So it appeared she had decided to stay, at least for a while. Did that decision have anything to do with Ian McDougal?
Mitchell nodded at his burden. “This is the rest of the fabric Miss Webster ordered. We didn’t have all she needed so I had to go over to Abilene. I about cleaned out that store.” He edged his way out from behind the counter. “I’ll take this over to her at the hotel, Uncle. Won’t be long.”
“Hold up there, Mitchell.” Davis Lee stepped in front of him. “I already have to stop by the hotel. I’d be happy to deliver that for you.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.”
“Since I’m already going there, it won’t put me out.” He didn’t need an excuse to talk to her, but delivering the fabric provided him with a better chance of getting into her room, seeing if he could find anything to confirm his suspicions about her.
Charlie motioned for his nephew to give the cloth to Davis Lee. “She in some kind of trouble?”
“No.” She is trouble. And he aimed to find out how much. He took the stack from the boy, who looked disappointed. “Just saving you a trip.”
“If I were twenty years younger, I’d take it myself.” Charlie chuckled. “Can’t say as I blame you, Sheriff.”
Davis Lee grinned, not bothering to correct the man’s assumption that he was romantically interested in Josie Webster.
A few minutes later, Davis Lee stood at the hotel’s registration desk, loaded down with four bolts of fabric. “Penn, I’ve got a delivery here for Miz Webster,” he said loudly. “Is she here?”
“I believe so.” The man’s wizened features creased in a smile. “You working for Charlie now, Sheriff?”
“Just helping out.”
“She’s in room 214.”
“Thanks.” Davis Lee started up the scratched pine staircase, his boots scuffing the freshly swept wood.
“No, no, that’s not right, Sheriff,” Penn said. “She’s not in that room anymore.”
Halfway up the staircase, Davis Lee turned.
“She’s in room 200 now. I forgot she asked to move a couple of days ago.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Said she wanted a room at the front of the hotel so she could have a view while she sewed.”
Davis Lee’s eyes narrowed. That was why he hadn’t seen her in the alley since that encounter a couple of days ago. Since he already thought she was hiding something, this news made him even more determined to find out what.
“Thanks, Penn. I’ll get this stuff up to her.” He reached the top of the second-story landing and turned to the right, going down the hall until he got to the last room. A room he knew had a bird’s-eye view of town. And his jail.
She answered his knock right away, her eyes widening when she opened the door. “Sheriff!”
He couldn’t tell if it was surprise or dismay he heard in her voice.
Her hair was down, sliding around her shoulders in a silky curtain of rich brown with a shy touch of red. She recovered, her green eyes cool and unreadable. “You have my fabric.”
“I told Charlie I’d deliver it since I was coming over anyway.” He’d forgotten just how deeply green her eyes were. And how tiny her waist.
She stared at him for a minute. Long enough for her sweet, fresh scent—honeysuckle?—to slide into his lungs. Long enough for him to deduce by the way her lavender skirts clung to her legs that she wasn’t wearing petticoats. At least not more than one. A heat he hadn’t felt in a long time worked its way under his skin.
He cleared his throat. “You want me to put this down somewhere?”
She blinked. “Yes. Sorry. Come in.”
She opened the door wider and he walked inside, noting she left the door open. Which was a good thing seeing as how he had also just determined she wasn’t wearing a corset, either.
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