relaxed features, she straddled him and lifted his hips, pulling the jeans at the same time.
Just as she was congratulating herself on the success of the operation, large hands spanned her waist and pulled her forward. With her heart thumping like mad, unable to breathe, she found herself wrapped in Doug Graybow’s arms, pressed against his lean length.
He muttered something in her ear, but she couldn’t distinguish his words over her own heart beating. As she was about to protest loudly and shove against her captor’s hold, she realized his eyes were closed.
Could he still be asleep?
She waited on tenterhooks for him to move again. When he didn’t, she eased back from his embrace. With a sigh of relief, she decided he had no idea what had happened. Apparently, her rather intimate position over him had awakened some memory.
Her cheeks burned but at least the man wouldn’t remember.
She slipped off the bed and returned to the foot of it. Now that the jeans were below his hips, she was able to pull them off without any difficulty. She tried to keep her eyes firmly fastened to the denim material, but the stark white briefs and the warm skin drew her gaze.
She might have lingered if it hadn’t been for the shattering of glass in the kitchen below.
Hurriedly, she whisked the cover over his now-bare legs and ran from the room.
Chapter Four
After a trip to the bunkhouse where Leslie started a pot of stew for the cowboys’ dinner and gathered supplies to bring back, she and the twins returned to the house.
“Are we going to make the cookies now, Leslie?” Justin asked anxiously as they entered the house.
“In just a minute. We should check on your dad first.” Before she could say anything else, the boys set down their sacks and ran for the stairs. “Quietly,” she called. “He may still be sleeping.”
She checked her watch as she followed the boys. Probably he wouldn’t stir for another couple of hours. At least she hoped so. That would give her time to fix lunch and make cookies with the boys—and recover from the embarrassment of undressing their father.
When she reached the bedroom door, the boys were standing by the bed, whispering. Doug Graybow didn’t even flicker an eyelash at the noise. He was obviously still in a deep sleep. Probably the best thing for him since Moss had told her he had a mild concussion.
“Okay, boys. Go hang up your coats and wash your hands and we’ll make cookies,” she whispered. Like twin tornadoes, the two moved past her and out of sight.
She stood there in the relative quiet, staring at the unconscious man. The urge to smooth his brow, to adjust his covers, grew stronger the longer she watched. With an abrupt nod to no one in particular, she pulled the door to, then drew a deep breath.
She was only going to be here a day or two. Moss would find someone. Of course he would. And then she’d be on her way back to Kansas to get on with her life—whatever that might be.
In spite of everything, Mr. D. Graybow had made it clear he didn’t want her working for him. So she wouldn’t. She’d find a place for herself, somewhere she’d be happy. It just wouldn’t be here.
And that was just as well. The man was as sexy as sin, even with a concussion and a broken leg. Another deep breath helped her clear her head of such ridiculous thoughts. Which was a good thing, because the boys’ room door opened and the two whirlwinds were beaming up at her, extending their hands for approval.
DOUG SLOWLY BECAME conscious of his surroundings. His room. Not the hospital. Why had he thought— The pain that shot up his leg when he tried to move it answered that question.
Along with that bit of information came the rest of it. The woman, his chasing her, then his fall. The hospital with Jim Kelsey fussing over him. Then his arrival back home to find the woman making his bed with clean sheets, charming his boys into instant obedience and shaming him into taking his medicine.
At least she was long gone. Moss knew what he wanted, and he could rely on Moss to carry out his orders. He looked at the window and figured he had an hour or two before his workers would return to the bunkhouse. Probably the boys were down there with Blackie.
He looked around him for the crutches Jim had given him. As much as he’d hated that damn bedpan, he kind of wished he had it here now. Getting to the crutches leaning against the wall by the door wasn’t going to be easy.
But he didn’t have much choice. He sure couldn’t wait a couple of hours.
Throwing back the covers, he slid to the side of the bed. Since he couldn’t bend his leg because of the brace, he was debating whether he should slide on the floor to the crutches, or hop on his good leg, when the door opened.
“You’re awake!” that woman exclaimed.
Red suffused his cheeks as he grabbed the covers. He suddenly realized he was only wearing his briefs and a T-shirt.
“Yes, I’m awake. Where are my jeans?” He could’ve sworn he’d had them on when he got home. Looking at his visitor, he surprised a bright blush on her cheeks.
“I—I removed them. You couldn’t get comfortable, they were so tight.”
Now he was as embarrassed as she looked. Particularly as a lingering scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. He felt a vague stirring of some memory but it eluded him. Upset with both himself and her, he said suddenly, “What are you still doing here?”
He hadn’t meant his question to sound so abrupt, so angry, but it had. He knew it by the way she stiffened.
“Taking care of you and your children until Moss can find someone else.”
Doug grimaced. Moss knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of finding someone to come take care of them. So what was he pulling?
“You agreed to do that?”
“Yes. I don’t have to return home at once, and it seemed cruel to abandon the three of you.”
“Yeah. Especially since it’s your fault,” he growled.
Her shoulders went rigid, drawing his attention to her full breasts. His mouth was suddenly dry.
“I don’t quite see how your broken leg could be my fault.”
“I’ve lived here thirty-two years, all my life, and never fallen down those stairs. I wouldn’t have this time except you jerked away from me.”
“Oh? So I should have let you paw me to keep you from breaking your leg?” She stood with her hands on her shapely hips, righteous anger on her face.
He stared back at her, trying to keep his gaze above her neck. “Paw you? I was trying to stop you from getting lost in a snowstorm!”
“It wasn’t that bad and you know it! That’s just an excuse!”
He gaped, unable to believe what she was saying. Finally he pushed himself as erect as he could manage. “Listen, lady,
