Joanna Wayne - Cowboy Delirium

She kicked free of her favorite stiletto sandals, for once wishing she’d worn a pair of boring, sensible shoes. Instead she was stuck in the wilderness dressed for a night on the town. That pretty much eliminated making a run for it through the woods.

Something skittered across her bare toes. She looked down as a giant cockroach paraded along her instep. A scream escaped before she could swallow it back.

Before she regained her equilibrium, her door flew open. Rio stormed in as the frightened roach scurried over the bare wooden slats.

He dropped the soap and towels on the bed and stamped on the insect with his booted foot, leaving it a mass of squishy pulp on her floor. This time his lips drew into a half smile.

“Nice to know you’re afraid of something, Jaime Collingsworth.”

RIO PACED THE BARE FLOORS, almost subconsciously familiarizing himself with the accompanying groans and squeaks. He’d been totally unprepared for the abduction and that concerned him. His BUDs training had prepared him to deal with anything thrown at him, but his years of experience as a frogman had fine-tuned his senses and ability to read even ambiguous clues with precision.

Yet he hadn’t suspected the kidnapping.

Still he was convinced that tonight’s act was only a prelude to something a lot bigger.

But what?

He needed information on Jaime and the rest of the Collingsworths if he were to figure that out. Jaime clearly wasn’t going to just buy his good-guy act and spill any helpful details. He’d have to find enough privacy to make a phone call.

Rio stepped into the dark, narrow hallway, pausing at Jaime’s door. The sounds of her rhythmic breathing indicated she’d finally fallen asleep. The unwanted image of her tanned, shapely body stretched out on top of the worn sheets burrowed into his mind. His body reacted as if he’d swallowed a handful of jalapeños.

He shook his head, but the erotic visions didn’t budge. Instead they became more distinct. He imagined his fingers tangling in her silky hair, disheveling the blond strands as his lips explored the smooth column of her neck.

Tiptoeing away from her door, he checked on Luke. He was still snoring away, his bare feet sticking out of the tangled sheets of one of the twin beds.

The guy was impulsive, with a quick temper that exploded with little warning. Worse, he was never far from the trigger of his Glock. Nothing like an untimed explosion to foul up a mission.

Rio retraced his path to the kitchen and then stepped onto the back porch, careful to step over gaps left by rotted boards. The lake was only a few yards behind the house, but the towering pines hid it from view. That was no doubt part of the reason the cabin had been chosen as a hideaway. It was virtually invisible from the front or the back until you were right on it.

He walked a few yards of the overgrown path toward the water, then stepped behind the trunk of an aged oak tree. Out of sight and too far away to be overheard if Luke did wake and venture out to look for him, yet close enough he could hear Jaime if she screamed—over a roach or worse.

Bending, he removed the small phone from inside his left boot, his fingers brushing the handle of the hunting knife that rested there in its twin leather sheath. Neither Poncho nor Luke suspected he had this completely private and untraceable mobile device on him.

He placed the call, knowing there would be an almost instant response even at this time of the night. He wasn’t disappointed.

“What’s up?”

“Trouble.”

“Specifics?”

“I’ve just helped kidnap a woman named Jaime Collingsworth. I’m guessing she’s connected to Collingsworth Oil.”

“You kidnapped Jaime Collingsworth?” A few curses punctuated the incredulity in his tone.

“I take it that means you know who she is.”

“I was good friends with her brother Langston back when we were riding the high school rodeo circuit. Jaime was just a kid then, but I met her on several occasions. And not only do the Collingsworths own Collingsworth Oil, they also have the second biggest ranch in Texas.”

So the cartel had taken a major risk in kidnapping Jaime—meaning they expected a bonanza from this. And Rio had ended up right in the middle of it, exactly where he’d hoped to be. Only he hadn’t been counting on Jaime to complicate matters.

Rio gathered all the facts he could from the phone call. By the time he’d broken the connection and walked back to the cabin, his head was reeling with the new information, but none of the confusion had been cleared.

He still needed answers and the rest would have to come from the sexy blond spitfire who seemed less afraid of him than she was a cockroach. Every path in sight was mined.

But he’d signed on to do a job. And with a frogman, even a former one, failure was never an option.

IT RAINED SOMETIME during the night, a steady downpour that cleared the pollen from the air and then gave way to the brilliant glow of the morning sun. Even filtered through the layers of grime that smudged the cabin’s windows, the rays painted the dingy kitchen in golden streams of light.

Rio checked out the refrigerator for food while Luke sat at the marred kitchen table scratching the toes of his right foot. Jaime was still in her room, though Rio had unlocked it a good half hour ago and told her she was welcome to come out for coffee.

The options for food were limited, but better than Rio had expected. “How about toast, bacon and eggs?” he asked.

“I could go for that,” Luke agreed, finally reaching for his sock, “but I say make the broad cook it. Cooking’s woman’s work.”

“Easy to see why you’re not married.”

“I’m serious. I don’t see why she should just get to lie around all day while we wait on her.”

“She didn’t exactly plan the party.” Rio took a skillet from the dishes he’d washed earlier that morning. With roaches and who knows what other insects and rodents scampering about, detergent and hot water seemed a good idea. He placed the bacon in it and put it over a low fire, then started spreading butter on bread for toast.

Soft footfalls sounded in the hall. He turned around just as Jaime stepped inside the kitchen door.

“There’s coffee,” Rio said, his eyes riveted to the petite, but shapely woman who showed little signs of the stress she had to be feeling.

Her wraparound dress was wrinkled, but hugged her perky breasts and firm, round buttocks provocatively. She’d shed the jewelry and the sexy heels. Her bare feet and freshly scrubbed face made her look almost waiflike. Her hair, which had been up last night, was down, the strawberry-blond locks tumbling around her shoulders. Disheveled. Tempting.

“I’d like to take a shower,” she said. “Or isn’t there one in this disgusting place?”

“There’s one,” Rio said, “but it’s not working. The water’s a bit cold in the lake, but I’ll walk you down there after breakfast if you’d like to bathe.”

Luke leered at her. “I’ll take care of that chore.”

She shot him a castrating look. “I’d sooner wallow in mud.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun, too.”

Rio filled a clean mug with coffee and handed it to her. “There’s sugar on the counter and milk in the fridge if you want it.”

“No, this is fine,” she murmured. “Thanks.”

There was a pause before the last word, as if it was added as an afterthought. He hoped that meant she was coming around to the point where she might cooperate with him, but he wouldn’t hold his breath waiting for that.

“How do you like your eggs?” he asked.

“Why ask her?” Luke quipped. “She ought to be cooking for us, if the princess knows how to scramble an egg.”