the light, in full view of Main Street where anyone passing the inn could see them. That didn’t bother him. He just couldn’t figure out what had caused her unexpected display of passion.
Way before he was finished with the kiss she stepped back, only to stare up at him with dazed eyes, and was that regret? Probably not. He wasn’t seeing so clearly himself.
Damn, he should’ve moved them to his room before now. “How about we go inside where it’s warm?” he asked.
She jerked a nod, clutched the jacket to her chest and inched farther away from him, as if she was afraid he was going to grab her.
Wondering if she’d ever picked up a guy before, Ethan was careful to give her some space. More practiced women who followed the circuit had a completely different air about them. He opened the door and motioned for her to go inside. The lobby was tiny, furnished with a desk and two wing chairs, a small oak table on which rolls and coffee would be set out in the morning, or so he’d been told.
“Turn right,” he said, and she did so without a word or a backward glance. “I’m near the end.”
He watched her as she led the way, admiring the view. Sophie claimed they’d never met, but he wasn’t so sure that was true. Once he’d seen her up close, he was even more convinced they’d met before. The shape of her pouty lips had given him the first inkling that he knew her from somewhere. Even now, watching the slight sway of her hips tugged at his memory. It wasn’t a particularly distinctive walk, so he didn’t get it.
Hell, he could’ve seen her in the crowd at a rodeo. She’d admitted she was a fan. But that didn’t feel right, either. If it turned out she’d lied and really was a reporter, man, he was going to be pissed. So far he’d been lucky. The public didn’t know about his arrest. But one more media question about the black cloud that seemed to follow him to the finals every year and he’d shut them all out. No more interviews. No more sound bites. Screw ’em.
Sophie stopped to examine the baseboards and then looked up at the ceiling. “I think this place really was a boardinghouse at one time.”
“Yep,” Ethan said, glad she seemed more relaxed. “It was built around the 1920s. The new owner bought the place last year and kept the renovations as close to the original structure as possible. She even tried to replicate the detail in the moldings.”
Sophie grinned at him. “I like that you know all that stuff.”
With a laugh, he pulled the key out of his pocket. “It was on the website.”
“The halls are awfully narrow. Men couldn’t have had very broad shoulders back in the twenties...” Her voice trailed off, her gaze flickering away from his chest.
“Two doors down,” he said, staying right where he was, waiting for her to start walking again so he wouldn’t crowd her.
He had to decide what to tell her. That kiss kind of ruined his plan. He hadn’t actually been hitting on her. Blackfoot Falls was small, and with all the fans in town, he’d been rethinking Matt’s offer to stay at his ranch. Ethan knew some of the guys had parked their motor coaches there instead of at the RV park outside of Kalispell.
Still, it would be quiet out there. He could help Sophie out by giving her his room. And staying at Matt’s meant less chance for Ethan to get in any trouble.
He stuck the key in the lock and glanced at Sophie. With those soft brown eyes and that generous mouth, she looked like big trouble to him, tasted like it, too.
Who was he kidding? If he’d really wanted to just give her his room, he would have said something when they were outside. By her Jeep. Now, though, it would be awkward as hell to pack up and leave. He pushed the door open and she went right on inside.
After glancing around at the antique chair and the old armoire, she focused on the queen-size four-poster bed that took up most of the small room. She moved closer to it, stopping a moment to check out the patchwork quilt, and then ran her hand down the oak post close to the wall.
His cock pulsed.
When she wrapped her fingers around the smooth wood and stroked up, Ethan had to turn away. Yeah, he needed to erase that image real fast.
Between her obvious interest in the bed and his dick’s growing interest in her, he decided it was time to offer the room as he’d intended, even if it would make him look like an ass.
“It’s nice,” she said, smiling, walking close enough he could inhale her sweet scent. “Quaint. Too bad the furniture is so small. I bet you can’t even sit on the chair.”
She laid her jacket over the back of it, sat on the edge and pulled off a boot.
And there went his last good intention. Ethan sighed. If even her red-striped sock turned him on, he wasn’t going anywhere. She was already here. He was here. They were consenting adults. So he couldn’t see a reason to deny himself a little recreation before heading to the Lone Wolf. Matt had left the invitation open.
“Need help with your boots?” she asked, mesmerizing him with those eyes the color of melted chocolate.
He pulled both his boots off before she’d finished removing her second one. “Tell me you’re over twenty-one,” he said, straightening and pausing at the first snap on his shirt.
Sophie laughed. “Are you serious? I don’t look that young.”
“I just like to be sure.”
“Well, you can relax. I’m twenty-six. Anyway, I think the age of consent is sixteen in Montana.”
The same as in Wyoming, not that he paid it any mind. Twenty-one was his personal cutoff.
Getting to her feet, she pulled her shirt from her jeans, then stopped and frowned. “Is something wrong?”
His snaps were still intact. “I have one last question.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a step closer, her sultry smile designed to scramble his brain.
“Are you married?”
Her eyebrows arched and her lips parted. She looked startled, and maybe confused. “No. Of course not.” She shook her head, her eyebrows lowering into a delicate frown. “No, I’m not married, nor have I ever been married.” She drew in a breath, seemed to calm herself and took over unsnapping his shirt. “Would it really matter?”
“If you have to ask, damn good thing you’re still single.” He could see he’d irritated her. Too bad. He wasn’t about to get into another scrape like the mess he’d narrowly escaped in Wyoming. After discovering Wendy was married, he’d refused to sleep with her. To get back at him, she’d filed a false charge that he’d stolen some jewelry.
Sophie looked torn for a moment and then unfastened his next snap.
He caught her hand and inspected her ring finger. No mark, not even a faded one. “Sorry, but I’m touchy about the issue,” he said, staring into her wary eyes and lifting her hand to his lips for a brief kiss before releasing her. “It’s nothing personal.”
Without another word, she finished unsnapping him, her eyes cast downward, until she parted the front of his shirt and pushed it
