Barbara Dunlop - A Cowboy in Manhattan

Now, Katrina pulled back the blue-and-green-striped shower curtain and carefully climbed out of the deep tub. The bathroom was neat but compact, with little counter room around the sink and only a couple of spots for hanging clothes and towels on the back of the door. While she dried off and wrapped a white towel around her wet hair, she realized the error in her planning.

Her sweaty clothes were in a heap on top of the hamper, while her fresh clothes were still folded in her suitcase in the guest room. She was going to have to cross the hallway wrapped in nothing but a towel. There wasn’t even a robe she could borrow hanging anywhere in the bathroom.

Resigned, she wrapped the biggest towel firmly around her body, tucking in the ends between her breasts. She rubbed a spot in the steamed mirror, turning and coming up on her toes to make sure the towel covered the necessities, just in case she met someone on the way. Then she gathered her wrinkled exercise outfit and her underwear, rolling them into a neat ball before cracking the bathroom door to make sure the hallway was all clear.

She listened carefully but couldn’t hear a sound. The guest-room door was about ten feet down the hallway in the opposite direction of the stairs. It was open, and it would only take her about five seconds to make it there.

She took a breath, opened the bathroom door wide, listened one last time, then scampered across the hardwood floor, scooting safely into the guest room, quickly closing the door behind her. She closed her eyes with a heartfelt sigh, and leaned solidly up against the door.

“Katrina?” Reed’s voice made her eyes fly open.

She gave a little shriek. The towel slipped, revealing her breasts for a brief moment until she grasped the corners, struggling to form a coherent word. “Wha-”

“Sorry.” He quickly averted his gaze. “Mandy asked me to bring you some fresh sheets.”

“I…” She could feel her face flush hot. The rest of her body flushed, too. Desire zipped from one extremity to the other, settling in a slow burn at the base of her abdomen.

She swallowed. She had to say something. But she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what that might be.

Reed moved toward her, keeping his gaze studiously on the floor in front of him. “I’ll get out of your way.”

She told herself to move, unblock the door so the man could leave already. But her feet were glued to the floor, her heart pumping deep and slow inside her chest.

He came closer and closer, and all she could do was stare.

A knock on the door behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin.

“Katrina?” Mandy called. “You in there?”

The absurdity of the situation suddenly hit her. And Katrina recovered her sense of humor. What was she expecting Reed to do here? Make a move with Mandy and Caleb downstairs? Ridiculous. She quickly found her voice.

“I’m naked in here,” she called out to Mandy. “And Reed’s remaking the bed.”

There was a stunned silence on the other side of the door.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Reed intoned. “Get out of the way.”

Mandy stammered from outside. “I’m… Uh…”

Reed snagged Katrina’s bare shoulder, moving her off to one side. His warm, callused palm left a distinct tingle in its wake. He quickly swung the door open.

“Mix-up,” he told Mandy. “Your sister thinks she’s funny.”

“He was lying in wait for me,” Katrina countered, still feeling breathless.

“I thought you’d take longer in the shower,” Reed protested.

“Why? Because I’m from New York City?”

“Because you’re a girl.”

“I’m a woman.”

Mandy’s attention was flying back and forth between the two.

Reed’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath. “And now you have fresh sheets.”

“Thank you,” Katrina returned breezily.

She was scrambling to tamp down her powerful sexual reaction to him. It was strange and more than a little unsettling to have her hormones run amok like this.

Maybe it was brought on by the stress of the afternoon. He had rescued her, after all. He’d lent her his shirt and brought her back here to where she was safe and warm. Had his white-knight behavior tripped some anthropological hormonal switch, making him seem like mate material? She sure hoped it was temporary.

“Caleb’s pouring the wine,” Mandy offered, watching her closely.

“Then I’ll get dressed,” said Katrina, pasting on an unconcerned smile.

These things were obviously mind over matter, and she was a very disciplined person. Reed was just a man. And a stubborn cowboy at that. She preferred her men more urbane and refined, a guy who could pull off a tux and discuss literature, fine cuisine and world events.

Mandy stepped backward into the hall, obviously intending to wait there until Reed joined her.

“It was an accident, ” Reed told Mandy with firm conviction.

“I know.” She nodded. “Could have happened to anyone.”

Reed set his jaw in annoyance and moved through the doorway.

Once in the hall, he turned back to glare his annoyance at Katrina.

“You’re not funny,” he admonished. But a split second later, his frank, heated gaze slid from her towel-covered hair to her bare feet and back again.

Her toes curled into the soft carpet, and her stomach rolled anxiously. Hoo boy.

Katrina woke up in the Terrells’ guest room in the early, dark hours of the morning and couldn’t seem to get back to sleep. Bothered by the time-zone change, her nagging ankle, and the fact that Reed was sleeping on the other side of the thin bedroom wall, her brain couldn’t seem to relax.

Since Mandy had brought all of Katrina’s sister’s clothes to the Terrells’ house, she had options. She changed into a simple black-and-white leotard, then searched her way through the house for a suitable space to exercise. She found a big rec room in the basement that was perfect. It had a smooth Berber carpet, a big open space in the middle and a ledge that ran the length of the room at a height where she could brace her hand for balance.

She plugged in her earbuds, turned on her player and made her way through a low-impact aerobic workout, getting the blood flowing and warming up her muscles. Then she ran through a familiar stretching routine, easing down into the splits, bending sideways first, then forward at the waist, stretching out her arms.

After a few minutes, she paused, sensing someone watching.

She turned toward the door to find Reed leaning laconically against the doorjamb.

“I saw the lights.” He straightened and ambled into the room, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, hair tousled, muscles bulging everywhere.

She pulled her legs beneath her and rolled to her feet. “I couldn’t sleep. Time-zone change.”

“Yeah, me, too. Not the time-zone thing. But I couldn’t sleep.” He pointed above his head. “I’m cooking sausage and eggs. You hungry?”

She shook her head. “I’m not much of a breakfast eater.”

Reluctant to stop while her muscles were warmed up, she crossed to the edge of the room, bracing her hand on the ledge. Facing Reed, she raised one leg behind her, gently gripped her toes and stretched out her quad.

“You don’t seem to be much of an eater at all,” he observed.

“Weight’s an issue in my profession.” Not only was a sleek form vital to her look on stage, but she had her partners to think about.

“How much do you weigh?”

She shot him a look of disbelief. “Do you really expect me to answer that?”

He shrugged and moved farther into the room. “Why not? I must weigh two, three times what you do.”

“Reed, you don’t ask a lady her weight.”