Sandra Steffen - The Bounty Hunter's Bride

The sound of her hand gliding through the water brought him instantly wide-awake. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Forgetting his injury, he reached blindly for her hand, only to wince in pain.

“There. See what happens when you try to do things yourself? And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t swear. It’s not as if you have anything I haven’t seen before. I’m the one who got you out of your clothes the first night you were here, remember? Besides, you’re not the only male I’ve ever seen naked. Billy’s two-year-old runs around with nothing on half the time. Daddy’s always yellin’ for somebody to put some pants on that boy. You’re gonna like my daddy. Just you wait. His name’s Saxon. I swear to God I’m not making that up. Shoot. I just lost the soap. Hold on, I’ll find it.”

Kane was all set to tell her that in case she hadn’t noticed there were a few differences between him and her two-year-old nephew, but her fingers skimmed something that most definitely was not the soap, and he forgot what he was going to say. Josie, on the other hand, didn’t even miss a beat in her story.

“I have to say I don’t think much of their taste in men. Why, my father and brothers want me to marry Obadiah Olson.”

Deciding that for once it might be best to keep her talking until he could get things under control, he said, “Obadiah?”

“Obie for short.”

“And you don’t want to marry Obie?” Kane asked.

“Heavens, no.”

“Do you have a reason?”

“He lies through his tooth.”

Kane surprised himself by laughing. “Then what do you want? If it isn’t to marry Obie and his tooth?”

She brought her hand out of the water, her thumb moving over the soap in a most tantalizing way, wiping out every last bit of progress he’d made below the water’s surface. Her face was close to his, moisture clinging to her cheeks. She was on her knees, her elbows resting on the edge of the bathtub. The top two buttons of her shirt were open, awarding him a clear view of her throat and the delicate ridge of her collarbone. Lower, he could make out the outline of one perfectly shaped breast.

Without conscious thought, he lifted his left hand out of the water and slowly raised it. Her face was so close to his he could hear the sound of her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes were the color of dawn. Her lips were full and moist and unmoving.

Will wonders never cease.

He almost commented on her silence, but his hand came into contact with the soft fabric of her shirt, and he didn’t feel much like talking. A heartbeat later he knew he was going to kiss her. And then his mouth was covering hers. Her lips were warm and soft and the tiniest bit trembly. She kissed him back, but tentatively, as if she wasn’t sure what to do. Kane couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed a woman who didn’t take over, who didn’t push for more, who simply seemed to savor what was happening at that very moment.

It was a heady sensation, one that wiped out all but the last shreds of coherent thought. Burying his fingers in the loose fabric at her throat, he finally drew away slightly, ending the kiss.

A man had to be careful what he said at a time like this, because there wasn’t a lot of blood left above his shoulders. Breathing deeply, he murmured, “I feel a little sorry for poor Obie.”

The air whooshed out of Josie, the area surrounding her heart turning to mush. She’d been experiencing those butterfly sensations on and off for two days, but she’d been questioning the possibility that she could really have fallen in love with a man she barely knew. She’d begun to wonder if she’d imagined her feelings for him. She wasn’t imagining them now.

She’d known Kane was looking inside her shirt. If he’d been any other man, her first instinct would have been to cover herself. But Kane wasn’t any other man, and she’d held her breath, waiting. When his hand had come out of the water, those old butterflies had fluttered in anticipation of his touch. Rather than touching her breast, he’d kissed her, drawing the lapels of her shirt together at the same time. He might have claimed he was no gentleman, but she knew differently. And she knew, without a doubt, that her love for him was real, which brought her to the brink of what she wanted to say.

Lathering up the washcloth, she smoothed it over his left shoulder, slowly moving it across his chest. His muscles flexed beneath her hand, his voice little more than a husky rasp as he said, “I’ll take it from here, Josie. You’ve already done more than I’ll ever be able to repay.”

She relinquished the washcloth to him, saying, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that, Kane.”

His eyes narrowed, his hand stilling. “About what?”

She cleared her throat and swallowed the knot that had formed around her voice box. “About repaying me.”

“You want money?”

She shook her head. “No. But there is something you can do.”

“And what might that be?” His voice had taken on an ominous ring in the silent room.

She’d been rehearsing this for two and a half days. Suddenly she didn’t know how to begin. Calling on the angels for courage, she looked directly into his eyes and said, “I’ve been dreaming of getting off this mountain for as long as I can remember. If what you said is true and you want to repay me, I’d like you to take me with you back to Montana. I could do almost anything you asked. I’m a virgin, but I’m a fast learner.”

Chapter Two

“You’re a what?”

Kane yelled too loud and moved too fast. One hurt his eardrums and the other sent pain shooting through his shoulder. He didn’t care. It beat the wounded look crossing Josie’s face that very instant.

“I’m a fast learner,” she said, lowering her eyes.

That wasn’t what he’d asked her to repeat. She’d said she was a virgin. Come to think of it, he didn’t want her to repeat it. Once had been enough.

Other than a log snapping on the fire, the room was more quiet than he’d ever heard it. Too quiet. He tried to remember some of the things his older brother had said after he’d hurt his wife’s feelings. Spence wasn’t very good at making amends. Hell, Kane was worse. “Look,” he said. “You’re young and—” he swallowed “—innocent, but you don’t even know me.”

“I know I love you.”

“You know you—” The blood flow to the lower half of his body came to a screeching halt, right after the blood flow stopped to his brain. It was a good thing Kane had steady instincts. Otherwise he never would have caught the slight hand that was inching dangerously close to certain anatomical parts that would respond no matter what his brain said.

“No, Josie.”

Round gray eyes stared into his. “What do you mean no?”

“I mean,” he ground out, “I live alone. I work alone. I travel alone. And I’ll die alone.”

“But you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do.” Without another word, he clutched the side of the old claw-foot bathtub with his good hand and pushed to his feet. Water sluiced down his body. Being careful to keep his back to Josie, he reached for a threadbare towel. He felt a little dizzy, but he managed to keep the towel firmly in front of him as he stepped down to the floor.

She was still watching him, still speechless. Wisps of light blond hair had escaped the band on the back of her head, damp tendrils curling over her ears and forehead. She was wearing blue jeans, hiking boots with thick wool socks and a gray-and-blue flannel shirt. He could see the outline of her breasts and the dime-size circle in the center of each of them. Kane had no business noticing, no business responding. And she had no business looking good in that kind of outfit.