Kitabı oku: «Just A Little Bit Dangerous», sayfa 3

That had cost him something he hadn’t been able to get back. Something that made him a little less human. Elaine’s lies had sucked the trust from his soul. The worst part about it was that Jake wasn’t even sure he wanted it back.

Chapter 3

Jake couldn’t help but worry that he’d overlooked the cabin. That he’d passed right by it and hadn’t seen it because of the poor visibility. Or because he was cold to his bones and shivering uncontrollably. He couldn’t help but think he was leading this woman directly to nowhere—or to a slow and excruciating death.

He couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head as they rode into the driving snow. They’d been traveling at an agonizingly slow speed for two hours. He was wet and tired and growing increasingly uneasy about the situation. He could only imagine how his prisoner must be feeling. She wasn’t dressed for heavy weather. She hadn’t eaten or rested. Her hands were cuffed, to boot. Yet she hadn’t complained. Either she was one tough cookie—or more stubborn than anyone he’d ever met.

If his memory served him, they should have passed the old hunting cabin an hour ago. His compass told him they were headed in the right direction. If so, then where the hell was it? Alarm quivered in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t one to panic—he’d been in worse predicaments in these mountains and survived. Only this time he wasn’t alone. His unwilling traveling companion might be an escaped convict, but her safety was his responsibility. Jake took that responsibility to heart. With weather conditions worsening by the minute—and nightfall closing in fast—he knew it had become imperative for them to find shelter very soon or else find themselves facing a life-or-death situation.

Wind stung his eyes as Brandywine took him through snow deep enough to scrape the underside of her belly, deeper where the wind had whipped it into drifts. His face was wet and ached with cold. His hands were beyond numb.

“You okay?” he shouted over the roar of wind.

“You mean aside from the fact that I’m wet and cold and hungry beyond belief and my life is wrecked? Hey, Cowboy, I’m just peachy over here. Don’t worry about me. I mean, who needs their fingers and toes when they’re going to be spending the rest of their life in prison?”

Even though she was less than three feet away, he could barely make out her silhouette through the driving snow. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. Hang tight, okay?”

“I’ve been hanging on for a year, now. A few more minutes aren’t going to make much difference.”

An instant later Brandywine stumbled. Jake looked down, squinting through the snow, realized she’d stumbled over the lowest rail of a broken-down fence. Pulling up on the reins, he looked ahead. Relief trickled through him when the weathered exterior of the cabin loomed into view.

Sliding off the horse, he led her to the east side of the cabin where a shallow lean-to blocked the wind and snow. Jake walked over to Rebel Yell and looked up at his charge. She gazed back at him, shivering, her cheeks bright pink within the pale oval of her face. Wisps of wet hair curled wildly around the hood of the duster.

“Nice p-place,” she said. “C-come here often?”

He would have bought the tough-guy act if her teeth hadn’t been chattering. An Emergency Medical Technician, Jake knew it wouldn’t take long for hypothermia to set in under these kinds of conditions. He probably wasn’t too far from that point himself. “Sit tight,” he said. Taking Rebel Yell’s lead, he tied the mule to the manger, then turned to the woman. “Lift your right leg over her neck and slide down,” he said.

Holding her cuffed hands in front of her, she did as she was told. It would have worked if her legs hadn’t given out the instant they touched the ground. If Jake hadn’t been there to catch her, she would have fallen. But he was there, holding her close—way too close—and far too aware of how good she felt in his arms.

Startled violet eyes met his, a kaleidoscope of emotions scrolling in their depths. Jake saw awareness and caution coupled with something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He breathed in, got a lungful of her scent, felt it knock him upside the head like a fence post. She smelled earthy and elemental, a heady mix of sweet mountain rain and woman that stirred him despite the cold. He felt the hard thump of a pulse, but he wasn’t sure if it was his or hers. Just that it was racing like the wind, and he was far too wise to ask himself why.

“Careful, I’ve got you,” he said.

“I’m c-cold.” She winced. “M-my feet are numb.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I figured it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out it’s seriously cold out here.” Grimacing, she shoved a handful of hair from her eyes. “Like you care, anyway.”

“It’s my responsibility to get you back to Buena Vista safe and sound.”

Her humorless laugh shouldn’t have irked him, but it did. “More like dead or alive.”

“Don’t overdramatize. It’s annoying.”

“I’m not overdramatizing. I’m simply being realistic.”

Jake knew he should step away. He should have stepped away the instant he’d felt the brush of her body against his. But she was curvy and soft against him, and her scent was doing a number on his judgment. Not to mention another part of his anatomy that seemed determined to betray him.

“Don’t sweat it, Cowboy Cop. I know you’re just doing your job. I’m not taking any of this personally.”

When he looked into her eyes, he could tell she really meant what she was saying. “I don’t want to see you hurt,” he said.

“Yeah, you just want to get me back to Buena Vista in one piece so I can spend the rest of my life in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. That’s real compassionate. But I guess a girl in my position has got to appreciate compassion when she can, you know?”

Jake sighed. “I’m not going to get into this with you now.” Releasing her, he stepped back. “I’ve got to get these animals fed and bedded down for the night.”

He turned toward Brandywine, opened the saddlebag and pulled out a halter, lead and a bag of grain. Slipping the bridle off the horse’s head, he replaced it with the halter and tied her to the manger. Scooping snow from the manger, he divided the bag of grain between the two animals. As they fed, he turned to his charge. “Give me your hands.”

“Don’t tell me you trust me enough to take off these cuffs.”

“Trust doesn’t enter into the picture here, Blondie. This is a dangerous storm, and I could use your help.”

“Imagine that. A lawman needing my help.”

Frowning, Jake fished the key from his belt, unlocked the cuffs, then stuffed them into the compartment. Without speaking, he turned back to the animals, unfastened the two bedrolls from the saddles and offered them to his prisoner. “Would you hold these for a minute while I untack?”

She nodded. “Maybe you should deputize me or something.”

“I don’t think so.” He set the bedrolls in her arms, then went about untacking the animals. A few minutes later, a saddle horn in each hand, he turned toward the cabin. “Let’s see if this place has a roof,” he said.

“Cowboy, I’m going to be really disappointed if it doesn’t.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“I guess it would be unreasonable for me to hope for hot water.”

“Best case scenario is a fire—if there’s dry wood.”

“Room service?”

“I’ve got some instant meals, jerky and a few cookies.”

“Chocolate chip?”

“Peanut butter.”

“Jeez, you really know how to crush a girl’s dreams.”

Jake moved past her and reached for the knob. The door squeaked when he pushed it open. The pungent odors of old wood and dust greeted him. “No snow on the floor,” he said. “That’s a good sign.”

He stepped into the dimly lit interior, his boots thudding dully against the plank floor. It had been a year since he’d been inside the one-room cabin, and it was every bit as dilapidated as he remembered. He’d gone camping with Tony Colorosa and Pete Scully, and they’d run into rain. Jake had remembered the cabin from a search and rescue operation years before, and they’d ended up spending the night.

“It’s not exactly the Ritz, but it’ll do,” he said.

“We’ll have to call housekeeping. There’s a pane missing from the window and it’s snowing in the kitchen.”

Jake looked up to see his charge stroll into the kitchen area. She’d lowered the hood of the duster he’d given her and handfuls of brown-and-blond-streaked hair curled around her shoulders. He tried not to notice that her teeth were chattering, or the occasional shiver that racked her body. Most of all he tried not to notice that she looked more like somebody’s camping partner than she did a convict on the run.

Tearing his gaze from her—and thoughts that were anything but appropriate at a time like this—he looked toward the window where snow blasted in through a broken pane. Two inches of the stuff covered the rough-hewn countertop. “I’ll patch that.”

“Is there a bathroom?”

Jake stared at her, suspicion flaring hot in his gut. “There’s an outhouse just off the back porch.”

When she started toward the back door, he reached out and took her arm. “I’ll go with you.”

“What? You think I’m going to run out into a blizzard?”

“After the stunt with the radio, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“I may be desperate, but I’m not stupid.”

“They’re one and the same up here, Blondie. You do something desperate in this weather and it might just kill you.”

“That would just set the world on its ear, wouldn’t it?”

Jake cut her a look. He didn’t like the sound of that. She didn’t appear unbalanced or unduly agitated, but he remembered clearly the D.O.C. officer mentioning that she had a history of mental illness. If she decided to get crazy on him and take off, they could both freeze to death and not be found until spring. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Suit yourself.” Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she stalked over to the rear door and yanked it open. A blast of frigid air sent her back a step.

The outhouse was a doorless, open-air facility that left her gaping for a full thirty seconds before Jake leaned down and told her he would turn his back while she took care of business. She wouldn’t even look at him as she stepped through the door and brushed the snow off the seat. Then at her nod, he turned away and tried not to think about how long this storm might last. While she used the facility, Jake spotted the remains of what had once been a woodpile. The wood underneath was dry, but there wasn’t much. Maybe enough for two days. Leaving his post, he walked over to the pile and gathered up an armload of wood.

When he straightened, he found her a few feet away, gathering kindling. Surprise and a grudging admiration rippled through him. Okay, so Miss Convict was a trooper. That shouldn’t have appealed to him, but it did. He knew what people were like when they were scared. He’d seen his share of panic, even more of tears. This woman could have been the poster girl for calm.

As much as he wanted to deny it, Jake realized he was going to have to be very, very careful in the coming hours. She was getting to him despite his resolve to keep her at a safe distance. And for the first time since Elaine had walked out on him more than two years earlier, he wasn’t sure he trusted his own good judgment to keep him on the straight and narrow.

Rather than shout over the wind, he made eye contact with her and pointed toward the door. She nodded, and he followed her. Once inside, he set the wood in front of the fireplace. “I’ll build a fire, then I’ve got to get out of these wet pants. Why don’t you see if you can find something suitable to cover that broken pane with?”

“I was just going to suggest that.” She started toward the kitchen area where a few pieces of weathered plywood leaned against the sink.

Jake watched her out of the corner of his eye as he stacked the wood and kindling in the hearth. She was still shivering, but he knew a blazing fire would take the damp chill out of the room. It wouldn’t be warm by any means, but at least they wouldn’t die of hypothermia. For tonight, he figured that was the best they could hope for.

She searched the counter, tossing aside a couple of scrap pieces of wood that were either too large or too small to fit over the broken pane. Next, she looked under the sink.

He jumped a foot in the air when she screamed and scrambled back.

“What the hell?” Certain she’d uncovered a nest of rattlesnakes, he sprinted over to her, grabbed her arm and tugged her away from the threat. Her laugh stopped him cold. He glanced past her in time to see a chipmunk scurry into a fist-size hole leading to the crawl space beneath the cabin.

Another laugh erupted. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Cowboy, but I’m not the camping type.”

“I’ve noticed.” His annoyance died a quick death the instant he realized how close she was. Awareness zinged between them like a stray bullet. In the span of a heartbeat, the situation went from bad to worse. A situation where he was no longer the cool-headed cop in control, but a man with a man’s needs—and a man’s weaknesses. She was no longer merely his charge, but a woman with violet eyes and soft flesh and secrets that beckoned a man to peel away the layers of her mystery one by one. He saw the realization in her eyes, heard it in the shuddering breath she let out, felt it in the leap of her pulse as it hammered beneath his fingers where he’d grasped her wrist.

He’d been around the block enough times to know this was a very bad idea. But he didn’t step away. “You okay?” he asked.

“It was only a chipmunk,” she said after a moment.

“I saw that.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It was only a mild heart attack. I’ll survive.”

She choked out a laugh. “You made a joke.”

“I guess I did.”

“It didn’t hurt too bad, did it?” Amusement sparked in her eyes, but he clearly saw that she was shaken. He wondered if it was from the scare that chipmunk had given her, or because he was close enough to see the melted snow clinging to her eyelashes. The only question that remained was just how far he was going to let this go before he put a stop to it.

Her face was only a few short inches from his. So close he could feel the heat coming off her. See the endless violet of her eyes, searching his, seeking something elusive, asking a question he had absolutely no desire to answer. Not when the blood was a dull roar in his head and the feel of her was making his heart pound. Not when the scent of her was so keen he could practically taste her flesh.

Jake knew he should pull away, knew he should heed the alarm blaring in the back of his mind, but he didn’t.

“Your pupils are dilated,” she whispered.

“So are yours.” His voice creaked like rusty barbed wire.

“You know what that means….”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“It means you’re aroused.”

“Really?” He didn’t need her to tell him that. Jake felt it loud and clear, like a bomb going off right on top of him. But he also heard the warning bell clanging and the voice of reason screaming for him to stop what he knew would happen next.

She inched closer. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you wanted to kiss me.”

“Yeah, but you know better, don’t you?”

“Do I?” She stood on her tiptoes, leaned toward him until her mouth was less than an inch from his. “I’ll bet you’re good at it.”

The control cost him, but Jake didn’t move. Sweat broke out on his back. He heard the echo of his pulse in his ears, the rush of blood through his veins. She closed her eyes, leaned closer.

An instant before contact, Jake stepped back. He wasn’t sure who he was angrier with, himself for getting into the situation, or her for compromising herself. But the anger stopped the insanity with an audible snap.

Her eyes widened when he grasped her biceps, whirled her around and shoved her into a rickety chair. “Let’s get something straight right now, Blondie.”

She stared at him, her breaths coming short and fast. “I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” he snapped. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t you have any self-respect? Don’t you have any pride?”

“Don’t you dare lecture me about self-respect.”

“You need it, sweetheart.”

The sudden rush of tears to her eyes took his anger down a notch, filled the space left in its wake with another emotion he didn’t want to deal with. Not when he could still smell her sweet essence, feel the pang of heat in his groin.

“You don’t know me,” she said. “You don’t know what I’ve been through in the last year—”

“I know what I see. I see a young woman about to give her body away because she thinks she might get something in return.”

She managed to look appalled. “I wasn’t going to—”

“The hell you weren’t. I was reading your signals loud and clear, sister.” Gritting his teeth against another jolt of anger—this time aimed at himself—Jake turned away and paced to the other side of the room. Damn, that had been close.

“I wouldn’t have done…that,” she said after a moment.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jake laughed humorlessly. “Look, if we’re going to be stuck together, I’ve got one rule.”

She leaned back in the chair, blinking back what he hoped to God weren’t tears. “I’m not very good at rules.”

“All I want is for you to be straight with me,” he said. “That means no games. No lying. No tricks. If you can’t tell the truth, then don’t say anything. Do you think you can abide by that?”

She pressed her lips together. “I wasn’t going to…you know, sleep with you.”

“If you weren’t going to sleep with me, just what the hell did you have in mind?”

“Well…I thought maybe…I thought maybe I could distract you.”

“Distract me?” Jake gritted his teeth. “Some other bozo in my position might have taken you up on your offer. Some unscrupulous cop might have wanted more than you were willing to give. Then where would you be?”

“I’d still be in the same predicament I’m in now.”

“Yeah? And what’s that? Paying your debt to society?”

“Going back to prison for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“You’re going to have to come up with something a little more original than that because I’ve been in this business a long time, and I’ve heard every lie in the book.”

“You want original?” She stood abruptly, trembling and pale, tears shimmering on ashen skin. “The night before I escaped, somebody tried to kill me. I had two choices. Leave or die. So I left. Is that original enough for you?”

Chapter 4

Abby told herself the shaking was from the cold, but she knew it wasn’t. She wanted to believe the tremors racking her body were because she was scared and desperate and furious that her plan to escape had been foiled. But she knew the knot in her gut and racing pulse had more to do with the way the tall cowboy with the unfriendly eyes and dangerously sensual mouth had looked at her when she’d had her body pressed against his.

Holy cow, she’d almost kissed him! A cop, for God’s sake. A man who was going to do his utmost to ruin any chances she had of saving her life. A man who was apparently hardened and cynical—and not nearly as vulnerable as she’d thought.

The most lethal kind of man there was—at least to a woman in her position.

Abby wasn’t above using her feminine charms to get what she wanted. She’d seen the way he looked at her; she’d seen the heat in his eyes, discerned the weakness that made men predictable. Of course, she wouldn’t have let things go too far; she had her limits. But she definitely would have gone far enough to get the job done. She wasn’t sure what that made her. Desperate perhaps. She could live with that. She’d learned to live with a lot of things in the past year.

Of course, she wouldn’t have to compromise herself now that Mr. By-the-Book had thwarted her plans. Damn him. Maybe she was in a lot more trouble than she’d ever imagined.

Abby realized then that she was going to have to be careful with this man. She’d nearly crossed a line. She’d nearly done something irrevocable. Something that would have made her hate herself. She’d nearly made a mistake that would have cost her another piece of her soul. Worse was the realization that for a crazy instant, she wondered if she might even enjoy it.

Oh, dear God, maybe she was crazy.

The cowboy stared at her, his thick brows riding low over eyes filled with a cop’s skepticism. “Good try, Blondie. You get a gold star for originality, but I’m still not buying it.”

She met his gaze levelly. “It’s true.”

“And I’m the Easter bunny.”

“I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

“Why are you trying so hard to convince me, then?”

“Because you’re my last hope.”

He took another step back, a predator who’d just been swiped by the nasty claws of a much smaller, but infinitely dangerous prey. “I meant what I said about playing games,” he said. “That includes making up stories. You got that?”

“That isn’t a story, and I sure as hell don’t consider my life a game.”

“Neither do I.”

“Maybe you just don’t give a damn.”

“I give a damn—about the law. I’ve got a job to do. A job that’s not always pleasant. You’re not making it any easier for either of us.”

A gust of wind rattled the door in its frame. Dragging her gaze away from him, Abby looked out the grimy window to the swirl of white beyond. Despair pressed down on her. She felt trapped, like a rabbit caught in a snare with a pack of dogs waiting to tear it to shreds.

“That storm’s not going to let up any time soon.” His voice caught her gaze. He was watching her, his expression as hard and steely as his eyes. “Let’s try to get through this without any more problems, all right?”

“I’m innocent,” she said. “I didn’t kill anyone. I was framed, and I’m going to prove it. I just need—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” He raised a hand to silence her. “I’m taking you back and that’s the end of it.”

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she blinked them back with fierce determination. She would not cry in front of this man. She hadn’t cried in front of anyone for a long, long time. She refused to start now. If Abby Nichols had anything at all left, it was pride. Crying never helped much anyway.

Still, she was thankful when he turned away. Some of the tension drained out of her when she didn’t have to meet that cold-steel gaze of his. She wasn’t going to waste her time trying to convince him of her innocence. Not this hard-headed lawman who saw the world in stark black and white. Her only hope was to gain his trust one inch at a time, then slip away when he wasn’t expecting it. If she didn’t get a chance—if he didn’t give her the chance—she would just have to make one.

“There are a some instant meals in my saddlebag,” he said after a moment. “Why don’t you pull out a couple, and we’ll eat?”

Abby’s stomach growled at the mention of food. She hadn’t eaten since the previous night, and after a physically grueling day she was starved. Without looking at him, she started toward the saddlebag he’d dropped near the door. Kneeling next to the bag, she opened the leather flap. Four individually packaged meals were stacked neatly, along with a collapsible container of water. She removed two of the meals.

“All you have to do is open the meal,” he said from across the room. “There’s a chemical inside that heats the food.”

She turned to ask him how that worked, but the sight of him standing with his back to her—his butt as bare as a baby’s—made her gasp in shock. She knew better than to stare, but before she could stop herself, her eyes did a slow, dangerous sweep, covering every well-muscled inch of a body that gave new meaning to the word perfect.

All the blood in her brain did a quick downward spiral. “W-what do you think you’re doing?” she cried.

He looked at her over his shoulder as he stepped into a pair of jeans and jerked them up quickly over his hips. “Getting into some dry clothes. Thanks to you, I’ve spent the past two hours in wet pants.”

“I know that, but why are you…why did you…”

“You didn’t think I was going to change my pants outside in the blizzard, did you?”

“I didn’t think you were going to strip right in front of me!”

“Your back was turned.” He faced her, and Abby’s mouth went dry. “I didn’t think you’d peek.”

“I…didn’t.”

“I guess that’s why you’re blushing.”

“I’m not blushing.” The heat in her cheeks didn’t even come close to a blush; it was more like a forest fire.

“Whatever you say.”

His jeans were well-worn and hugged his lean hips like a pair of snakeskin gloves. His heavy flannel shirt hung open, revealing a muscled chest covered with a sprinkling of black hair that arrowed down to his waistband and disappeared. Abby swallowed hard and tried not to notice that he hadn’t bothered with the top button of those jeans.

Oh, my.

Scooping his wet jeans and long johns off the floor, he started toward her. “What’s your name, anyway?” he asked.

“M-my name?”

“Or do you prefer Blondie? That’s fine by me. A lot of convicts go by aliases.”

“Don’t call me a convict,” she snapped.

He shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

“My name is Abby. Abby Nichols.”

“I’m Jake.”

Jake. The name fit him, she realized. Almost as well as those jeans.

“It looks like we might be stuck here together for a while, Abby. I figured we ought to be on a first-name basis.”

She stepped back and watched him hang the jeans and long johns he’d been wearing neatly above the stone hearth.

“How are those meals coming?” he asked.

She looked down at the two unopened containers in her hand. At some point in the last five minutes her appetite had vanished. Maybe about the time when she’d looked over and seen… Mercy, she didn’t want to think about what she’d seen. “I wasn’t sure how to…activate the heat.”

Coming up beside her, he took one of the meals and proceeded to tear off the foil label. “Like this. See?”

He moved with the self-assurance of a man who was comfortable with himself and didn’t necessarily give a damn what the rest of the world thought. Abby watched, fascinated by his hands as the steaming food came into view.

“I hope you like chicken and broccoli.” He handed one of the containers to her. “I’m partial to beef myself.”

“I’d eat nails if they were cooked and warm.” Abby took her food to the hearth.

He walked over to the saddlebag, removed two plastic forks and two containers of water, then met her at the hearth. “The floor’s cold. You can sit on the bedroll if you want.” He handed her water in a collapsible cup.

Abby accepted it and drank deeply. Slipping off the duster, she unrolled the bedroll—an insulated sleeping bag—then settled onto it with her legs crossed. Jake did the same and soon they were forking chicken chunks and broccoli from their instant meals.

They ate in silence, the only sound coming from the raging wind outside, the patter of driving snow against the windows and the occasional crackling of wood as the fire consumed it.

The chicken was surprisingly good, and Abby savored every bite with the fervor of a woman who didn’t know when or where she’d get her next meal. She was going to need her strength in the coming days. As long as she stayed calm and kept her head, she could still get out of this. Jake Madigan might be an armed lawman, but he wasn’t the kind of man who could shoot a woman in the back if she took off on him. All she needed was the opportunity and a little luck.

The warmth from the fire was relaxing her. Abby snuggled deeper into the sleeping bag and drifted. Her tummy was full. She could feel her cold-stiffened muscles beginning to unwind. Her hands no longer ached. She could feel her feet again. Sleepiness was starting to descend like a lavender mist clouding her brain one micro-droplet at a time.

She was aware of Jake moving around the cabin. She heard the door open. Felt the draft of cold air against her face. The clanging of metal against metal.

She opened her eyes to find him kneeling at the hearth, setting a large, scarred kettle over the embers. He looked at her intently, then turned back to the kettle. “I’m melting snow so we can wash up,” he said.

Sitting up, she looked around. The windows were dark now, the interior of the cabin illuminated only by the fire. Outside, the wind howled like an angry banshee. Abby could still hear the snow blasting against the glass on the north side. Jake had taken their empty food containers into the kitchen. She must have fallen asleep.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“You got somewhere to go?”

“No, I’m just wondering.”

“A little after seven.”

Early evening. It felt like the middle of the night. With the storm waging all-out war on the cabin, it seemed as if they were the only two people on earth. The thought should have disturbed her, but it didn’t. In fact, as she sat on the bedroll and looked around the cabin, a strange and comforting warmth encompassed her. The storm might be an inconvenience, but it would buy her some time. Besides, she’d much rather be stuck in this cabin than in a prison cell. At least here there was the hope of escape.

The water in the kettle was steaming. Abby watched Jake use one of his leather gloves to take it from the fire and carry it to the kitchen where he dumped the hot water into a larger pail of snow. She swallowed hard when he turned his back to her and proceeded to strip off his shirt.

Broad shoulders rounded with muscle came into view as he draped the shirt neatly over the back of a chair. The faded jeans he wore rode low on his narrow hips. Jeans that left no doubt about Jake Madigan’s masculinity. Abby tried not to stare, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. The man was built like Adonis. The fire cast yellow light over the room, turning his skin to bronze, his muscled shoulders and back to a sculpted work of art. His biceps flexed as he leaned forward and splashed water onto his face. His wet skin glistened when he dipped a small rag into the water and brought it to his neck and chest, then lower.