off his wet jeans and tossed them onto the floor. He reached into the closet and pulled out another pair. He’d barely stepped into the first leg when he heard a loud shriek from the bathroom. After dropping his jeans, he sprinted to the door and knocked.
“Rebecca? What happened?”
There was a low moan from the other side of the door.
“Rebecca? Damn it, open up. Did you hurt yourself?”
“No. I just…”
He heard footsteps and the door opened a crack. He could see part of her face and one brown eye. Mascara collected under her lower lashes. Any color on her face had long been washed away. Her dress hung damply from her shoulders. She was a mess. The one eye he could see closed briefly.
“I just saw myself in the mirror. Now I know why you were smiling so much.”
The tension left his body. “Oh, that.”
Her eye opened. “Yeah, that. I’ll just be a minute here, while I try to repair the damage.”
“Take your time.”
“I’m going to need it,” she mumbled.
Her gaze drifted down from his face to his chest, then lower. She blinked and her eye got bigger. At that moment he realized he’d dropped the dry jeans he’d been pulling on. Her gasp was audible.
“I… I… Oh, heaven help me!” The door slammed shut.
Austin shook his head and headed back across the room. He couldn’t have been the first naked man she’d ever seen, but she’d been staring as if he was. He slipped into his jeans and buttoned the fly, then grabbed a shirt and shrugged it on. He didn’t bother fastening it.
His bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor as he made his way to the kitchen and started coffee. He rummaged around in a bottom cupboard until he found a bottle of whiskey, then poured a half inch into both coffee cups. If nothing else, the liquor would chase away the rest of her chill.
The sound of the storm increased. Bolts of lightning arced across the darkening sky. Rumbles of thunder shook the building. He stared out the window at the rain and the flashes of light. Behind him he could hear the gurgle of the coffeepot and the faint sound of the shower. He tried not to picture the woman standing under the warm spray or the way she would slowly lather her slender body.
He rubbed his hand over his face, but the action did nothing to chase away the tiredness. He’d been tired for days now, but he knew it had nothing to do with the hours he was putting in. Everything was changing and he didn’t know how to make it stop.
The coffeepot gave a last hiss and then was silent. Pipes rattled as the shower was turned off. He stepped back and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the door. He knew she would come out eventually. He also knew exactly how she would look, swimming in his oversize bathrobe. Her skin would be pale, her eyes large and questioning, her hair a damp mantle of silk. She would look at him and blush, then stare at the ground. He would be torn between telling her she was in no mortal danger and wanting to make every one of her ridiculous fantasies come true.
Rebecca Chambers had a crush on him. It had been obvious from their second meeting when she’d managed to spill an entire pitcher of water at dinner one evening. He’d just dropped by to give Travis a message. Rebecca had been there, wearing one of her flowing floral-print dresses. With her loose clothing and headbands holding her curly dark hair off her face, she reminded him of a schoolgirl out of uniform for the day.
He knew she wasn’t a girl, but it was easier to think of her that way. Safer. She wasn’t for him.
It took another ten minutes, but at last the bathroom door opened a crack. He thought about calling out that he wasn’t naked anymore but didn’t. She had enough backbone for three warriors; she just hadn’t figured it out yet. Besides, he liked teasing her and watching her blush. It was about the only innocent pleasure he had in his life.
One bare foot eased out of the open door. He glanced at the pale skin and trim ankle. His muscles tensed as a familiar heaviness filled his groin. The dim light would make his condition harder for her to discern. Just as well—for both of them. If she kept on blushing around him, her face would be permanently red. If she didn’t blush, he would be tempted to do exactly what she’d been thinking about.
She took another step and this time cleared the bathroom door. She looked exactly as he had pictured, all soft and pale, overwhelmed by his robe. She’d rolled up the sleeves a couple of times so they only hung to her knuckles. The knotted belt trailed almost to her knees.
“Do you want some coffee?” he asked, raising a mug.
Her head jerked toward him. She’d washed away the rest of her makeup, and without cosmetics, she looked about seventeen. Her mouth was well shaped, slightly wide and normally tilting up at the corners. Now it twisted down on one side as she nibbled her lower lip.
Her hair fanned out over her shoulders just as he’d pictured it. A flash of heat seared through his belly. For that second he wished she was like the widow in the next town. Jasmine visited him a couple of times a week. She was rich, lonely and bored. They made hot and fast love, seeking mutual release and no commitment. It had been easy to be with her, and easy to let her go. Three months before, they’d decided to end the affair. He didn’t miss her, but parts of him missed her body. It would be a mistake to start something like that with Rebecca, even if her slender shape, so different from Jasmine’s lushness, taunted him. Rebecca would be long and lean, a wildcat, he suspected. It was the innocence in her eyes that kept him from finding out.
“Coffee would be nice,” she said, her voice low and steady. She took a step toward him, then paused.
He turned his back to her and poured the steaming liquid into both mugs. “Cream, sugar?”
“Cream,” she said, sounding a little closer.
He grabbed a small carton from the fridge, added a splash then picked up the mug and held it out. She crossed the hardwood floor and took it.
“Thanks. I’m sorry to be such a bother. Dripping all over everything. Thanks for the robe. I’m sure my clothes will dry quickly and then I can be on my way. Except for the car. But you said you’d call for a tow truck. I guess that’ll take a little while, what with the weather and all. I really appreciate—”
“Rebecca?” Slowly, so as not to alarm her, he turned toward her and leaned against the counter.
She stopped chattering and glanced at him. Her eyes were dark and wide, her face flushed with embarrassment. “Yes?”
“You’re babbling.”
The flush deepened. “I know. I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be.” He reached over past her to the phone mounted on the wall. He drew the receiver to his ear and listened to the silence. Grimacing, he set it back in place, then motioned for her to follow him.
“What is it?” she asked, trailing behind him as he headed for the living area.
“Phone’s out. Usually happens during bad weather.”
“You can’t call the tow truck?”
The
