Cathleen Galitz - Only Skin Deep

“Don’t worry, I’m only teasing,” she told him. “Short of committing to anything so drastic, you could always help me find a place to stay. Under the circumstances, I really don’t want to stay in this house any longer, but the only rentals available in town look like they should be condemned.”

Her eyes glistened with the hint of tears, chipping away at the wall Travis had worked so hard to erect around his heart. Feeling her tremble in his arms, he cursed his insensitivity. Clearly, Lauren wasn’t nearly as accomplished at hiding her feelings as other women. She wore them right there on her puffy bridesmaid sleeves for everybody to see. He imagined that she was feeling particularly vulnerable today.

In fact, the last time Travis had seen such a defenseless creature, he’d been looking at it from behind the barrel of his Colt .45. And even though that pesky raccoon was destroying his mother’s garden, he hadn’t the heart to put it away. To add insult to injury, the darned thing was so happy to have continuing free reign of the backyard, it had practically adopted Travis as its master.

A warning signal exploded inside his head. Bells, lights and whistles all at the same time. Travis was a man who worked hard at keeping a wide emotional distance between himself and the opposite sex. Ever since his divorce, he tended to categorize the entire female gender as cold, calculating and manipulative. Somehow, it was hard to paint this plainspoken English teacher with the same broad strokes as the woman who had pulverized his pride and his wallet four and a half years ago.

Just because Lauren didn’t strike him as either a gold digger or the kind of woman who would cheat on a man just for kicks, he hesitated to get involved with any woman who might easily mistake his kindness as something more. Especially someone who made him feel as though she intended to correct his grammar while attempting to waltz him down the aisle toward a waiting preacher.

Catching himself wondering how Lauren might look with her hair freed from that constraining bun, he fought the urge to undo the pins and run his fingers though her dark tresses. When she dropped her head against his shoulder and leaned against him for an instant, he was instantly transformed from a reluctant dance partner into her willing protector. Feeling the warmth of her breath against the crisp open collar of his shirt, he held her close as the final strains of the waltz faded away. When she looked up from the top of his shoes, he noticed that her eyelashes were suspiciously wet. Something hard inside his chest rolled over.

Setting aside his own paranoia for the moment, Travis did what any gentleman with a vacant mouse-infested cabin on his property would do. He rushed in for the rescue without thinking of the consequences of his actions.

“I actually might be able to temporarily solve your housing problem,” he said, tipping her head up with the calloused pad of his thumb and falling once again into the verdant fields of those green eyes. “But I can assure you that I’m the last person in the world to help anybody find a husband.”

No one was more surprised when Lauren threw her arms around Travis’s neck and kissed him in front of all the invited guests than apparently Lauren, herself.

Except maybe for Travis.

One minute he was doing his best to describe the modest little cabin next to his own house on the homestead that his grandfather staked out back when the government was eager to give away land to any hardy soul who could survive even one brutal Wyoming winter on it. And the next he was on the receiving end of a kiss that knocked him right out of his cowboy boots.

Had there been a single disinterested observer in the room, he or she might have dismissed the gesture as one of overwhelming gratitude mixed with too much champagne punch. In all actuality, Lauren did little more than press her mouth against Travis’s for an instant before drawing away and turning an enchanting shade of pink.

Indeed, it was no open-mouth, long, drawn-out Hollywood kiss that left Travis wanting so much more. He never imagined that a brief sampling of those surprisingly sweet lips could destroy all his illusions about the prudish Ms. Hewett. She tasted of champagne and wild temptation. Behind that unadorned, bookish exterior lay a promise of passion. And the unexpected thought that she might be wearing something seductive under all that fabric was as intriguing to Travis as the kiss itself.

Dissatisfied with such a chaste peck, he was tempted to ravage her mouth with the kind of kiss that would let her know beyond all doubt that he was not a man to be toyed with. He wondered if the timid little mouse would run back to the safety of her hole. Or would such an inappropriate public display transform her into a virtual wild cat—and him into her eager prey?

Travis stood in the middle of the dance floor looking at Lauren as if he were seeing her for the very first time. It was his own startled reaction to her kiss, more than the act itself, that shook him to the very core of his being—a being who had obviously denied himself the pleasure of a woman’s companionship for too long. Not that he could think of anyone else who had such a peculiar effect on him. All of a sudden Travis was feeling so hot that he wouldn’t have been surprised if Fenton rushed over to put him out with another dousing of punch.

“When can I see it?”

For a moment Travis thought Lauren was actually making an indecent inquiry before realizing that she was just asking about the cabin that he said she could stay in until something better came along. A glance around the Victorian style living room of Barbara Aberdeen’s house made him doubt whether the Spartan accommodations he had to offer would suit her sheltered daughter.

“Don’t feel like you have to commit to anything until you’ve seen it,” he warned her.

“All I ask is that it has indoor plumbing.”

Lauren’s hopeful smile reached a pair of eyes shining with excitement. Travis didn’t want her laboring under any delusions.

“It was fitted with modern appliances a few years back, but I can’t vouch for how clean it is. There’s probably a layer of dust an inch thick coating everything.”

“I’m no stranger to a mop and a dust rag,” she assured him.

“The mice have set up housekeeping before you….”

Lauren didn’t so much as flinch.

“I’ll get a cat.”

The least likely candidate in the entire world had just offered her an opportunity on a silver platter and she wasn’t about to look that particular gift horse in the mouth. That she was mentally mixing her metaphors wasn’t nearly as disturbing as the fact that her hormones were mucking up her common sense. She could only assume that Travis Banks was no more attracted to her than she herself was to Fenton Marsh.

Still, for a moment there, when she had so impetuously pressed her lips against his, she imagined feeling his heart leap against hers. With eyes half-closed she could almost hear the rhythm of his heart beating. The thought that she just might have shocked the local playboy put a silly grin on her face. Lauren had a mind to shock the entire community before she was done transforming herself from a caterpillar to a butterfly.

“When would you like me to pick you up so I can show you around the place?” Travis asked.

It pleased Lauren immensely that the young “lady” who had spoken so disparagingly about her earlier in the day happened to overhear that question. When Sylvia Porter’s mouth flew open, Lauren was reminded of some luckless onlooker standing near enough to a slot machine that had just hit the jackpot to salivate over the money spilling onto the floor. She wondered if the silly goose would actually associate what sounded like a request for a date to the fact that Lauren had caught the bouquet she had so badly coveted.