Judy Duarte - Cowboy Courage

Within minutes, hot water sprayed from the shower head while Laurie continued to stand before a fog-enshrouded image. A long-haired, ghostlike figure stared back at her. Fingering the fluffy white towel lying upon the beige countertop, Laurie hid a wry smile. She might look a fright, but there was definitely an upside.

Laurie Smith didn’t look at all like the sophisticated Lauren Taylor.

As Cole stepped onto the bath mat and reached for a towel, he realized that just down the hall, Laurie Smith was in a similar state of undress. He imagined her body, tall and lean, moving sensuously through the fog and steam, water and soap sluicing over bare skin. The erotic image aroused him, reminded him he was not only a single dad, but a man who hadn’t had a woman in a while.

He grumbled. Even though Beth wasn’t home and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning, he was a dad first and a man second. Besides, having a houseguest was no big deal. He’d only provided temporary accommodations for Kerri-Leigh’s friend—a woman who had helped his sister when he hadn’t been able to do so himself.

Lightning flashed, and as the thunder began to roll, the light in the bathroom went out.

Damn. He’d better get out the candles. This was going to be one heck of a storm. The sun had yet to go down, but the darkened sky threatened an even darker night, especially without electricity.

Cole grabbed his shirt and jeans from the countertop and slipped them on. He left the steamy room and returned to the kitchen where he kept a flashlight. Within minutes, he had lit candles and placed them throughout the house.

He wondered how many of his neighbors would be without power. Beth was still afraid of the dark. Using the cell phone he wore on his belt, Cole called the Petersons, wanting to assure himself that his daughter was all right.

“Hi, Cole,” Susan Peterson said, when he greeted her with a question. “No, we’re not having a power outage here. I’ve made spaghetti for dinner, and if the girls help with the dishes, we’re going to bake cupcakes.”

He sighed, and gripped the small receiver. “Good. The electricity is out here. Give me a call if you have a problem.”

“You’re not worried, are you?”

Of course, he was worried. He was a father, wasn’t he? And worry was part of the job description. “I know she’s safe with you.”

Susan laughed. “Good. We’ll talk to you tomorrow, Cole.”

“Yeah, right. Goodbye,” he said, as he hung up the phone.

Alone in the house with a strange woman. Heck, he hadn’t even had a familiar woman here since his ex-wife ran off. Other than Susan Peterson, Beth’s preschool teacher, and Consuela, who helped around the house once a week, he didn’t have many chances to speak to women. Not that it mattered. He and Beth did just fine without having one around on a daily basis.

Lightning cracked and flashed. Of all nights to entertain a stranger. No television, no stereo. What were they supposed to do until bedtime? And how was he going to feed her if she was hungry?

He had an old camp stove in the garage. And a lantern. He hadn’t been camping in ages. It might even be fun, assuming Laurie Smith wasn’t one to complain.

She had yet to come out of the bathroom. What took women so long in there?

Cole crouched before the hearth and lit a fire. Thank goodness he had plenty of wood to heat the house and keep them warm throughout the night.

He was just about to rustle up some food from the kitchen when she walked into the living room, barefoot, a towel wrapped like a turban on her head. His oversized robe covered her tall, lithe body, and her skin bore a pink tinge from the heat of the shower.

Even without makeup or any of the usual feminine accessories to accentuate her looks, she emanated an essence of womanly beauty Cole had never seen before. And he felt a stirring he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

She’d taken a shower alone, and he was struck with a sudden pang of longing, wishing he’d been in there with her. Lathered her body with an expensive bar of nature-scented soap. Run his hands over her slick, clean skin.

For Pete’s sake. He didn’t need arousing images plaguing him throughout the evening. He gave his head a mental shake, hoping Laurie didn’t have a clue as to what he’d been thinking. What was the matter with him? He wasn’t looking for a one-night stand. And this woman wasn’t going to be around long enough to see if an attraction was mutual or lasting.

“Electricity went out,” he said, trying to find a safe topic of conversation.

“I noticed.” She glanced around the room, her eyes settling on the candles he’d placed on the mantle and the glass-topped coffee table. “It looks as though you’re prepared.”

“I used to be a Boy Scout,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound trite or…. Or what? Like an adolescent with hormones raging out of control?

She smiled softly. “What was it like?”

“What was what like?” Being a Boy Scout? Or a randy teenager? Cole had a hard time keeping his mind on a decent conversation when his libido wanted to reach for the tie on the robe she wore and pull her to him, open the terrycloth gap and slip his hands—

“Being a Boy Scout,” she said. “Camping, fishing, hiking. Tying knots.”

Knots? Like the loose one that held that robe together? He didn’t answer for fear he’d stammer like a teenager under the influence of testosterone.

“I’d always wanted to be a Girl Scout, but my aunt didn’t think it was appropriate.” She sighed, her eyes wistful and momentarily lighting upon the fire he’d built. Then she returned her gaze to his. “Did you get to go on any camping trips?”

“Quite a few.”

She nodded, a glimmer of admiration in her eye.

When her stomach growled, he remembered she’d carried her lunch out of the Long Shot and felt derelict in his duties as a host. “I left your sandwich in the kitchen. I can get it for you, or you can share my meal. I thought I’d set up a camp stove on the patio and fix something to eat.”

“A camp stove?” Her hand went to her stomach as though she meant to hold back another pang of hunger, but her eyes brightened like a kid’s at Christmas.

Somehow, Cole didn’t think the classy lady he’d seen at the gas station would get excited about cooking over a butane flame. She’d appeared sophisticated, certainly not the kind to like hot dogs stuck on a straightened coat hanger and dangled over a fire. Or to enjoy eating melted s’mores and sipping strong coffee from a tin cup. But apparently, she had a childlike spirit of adventure. He grinned. “I’ll bring in the stove and we can camp out, right here in the living room.”

You’d have thought he’d offered to take her to dinner at the Ritz by the way her smile lit the room. “It sounds like fun.”

And interestingly enough, Cole thought so, too.

In record time, he had the sliding door open, the cook stove lit and two ribeyes sizzling in a cast-iron skillet.

Laurie sat upon the floor in front of the fireplace, legs crossed and her knees peeping out of that darn robe. She’d taken the towel off her head and run a brush through the wet strands, allowing them to dry by the heat of the fire.

The light of the flames glistened off the gold tresses, and when she leaned forward, the robe gaped open, revealing a soft mound of flesh that would fit easily in a man’s hand. He tried to remind himself that he wasn’t attracted to model-thin women, that his ex-wife had grown too thin, right before she’d run off. But there was nothing thin or lacking softness in the rounded flesh that was just visible through the robe.

Cole found it nearly impossible to stay on task. Just how on earth was he supposed to watch over two steaks when a nearly naked woman sat just beyond reach? He might have achieved the rank of Eagle Scout, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for this.