A Moment in Time by Deb Stover Page A

if using her body was the only way to convince Cole to help her?   No, she had to think, use her brain instead of her body, and forget her irksome libido once and for all.
           Kidnapper or not, she suspected he was a man with a conscience, and that this activity violated his sense of right and wrong.   Why she believed that, she wasn't sure.   It wasn't as if she had a good track record when it came to judging men.   Even so, she had nothing to lose by appealing to his sense of fairness, if he actually had one.
           And play on his guilt for all it was worth.
    * * *
           Cole urged Ruth into a slow trot when they emerged on the far side of the forest.   A wide meadow sprinkled with wildflowers was the only thing between them and the tiny town of Lost Creek, where the largest building was the Silver Spur Saloon.  
           The sooner he deposited the mouthy Miss Lolita with her new employer, the happier he'd be.   Then he'd take the promised gold home and plan their trip to Oregon.   The mere thought of a ranch made him downright giddy.
           The dream.   His and Elizabeth's.   With a bittersweet sigh, he nudged Ruth into a canter, eager to finish this sordid business.
           "Do you mind ?" Miss Lolita said, clutching the saddlehorn with both hands.   "It's all I can do to stay in the saddle without you galloping like a madman."
           "This isn't a gallop, but Ruth can set a fair pace."   He chuckled low.   "Want to see?"
           "Don't.   You're killing me."   Pain etched her words.
           Cole slowed the mare, puzzled.   "With all due respect, ma'am, Ruth's doing all the work."
           "Yes, but you're bouncing my...   Oh, never mind."
           Once Ruth returned to a slow walk, Miss Lolita released the saddlehorn and folded her arms across her chest.   Heat suffused Cole's face as he realized exactly what had been bouncing.   He cleared his throat and muttered, "Beg pardon, ma'am."   She didn't say anything, but he felt her relax a little.   "We'll be at the Silver Spur in no time."
           "Go ahead, make my day."   Bitter laughter erupted from the woman, but she didn't look back at him.   "This is one helluva lot worse than a bad hair day."
           Even more confused, he shook his head.   With hair the color of Miss Lolita's, every day must be a bad hair day.
           "Ah, I suppose that little oasis ahead is our destination."
           Cole urged Ruth across the dry creek bed and onto a rutted dirt road.   "Yep, straight ahead lies Lost Creek, Colorado."
           "Oh, joy.   Oh, rapture."
           "Whatever you say, Miss Lolita."
           "I'm not –"   She left the declaration unfinished and shook her head.   "Never mind."
           They were less than a hundred yards from the edge of town when she held up one hand and said, "Wait."   She looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide and pleading.   "I don't suppose you have a spare shirt I could borrow?"
           "No, I'm afraid not, ma'am."   He understood her dilemma.   Even a famous saloon singer must have had second thoughts about riding into town wearing only feathers and men's jeans.
           She sighed and faced forward again.   "Thanks anyway."
           You son of a bitch, Morrison.   No matter what kind of woman Lolita Belle was, he couldn't take her into town exposed this way.   It was wrong.   He nudged Ruth toward a clump of pines and dismounted, looping the reins over a low branch.   Without speaking, he held his hands up to Miss Lolita, trying to ignore the lingering ache in his shoulder.
           "What?"   She tilted her head to one side and stared at him through those expressive eyes of hers.   "You aren't going to try anything, are you?"
           Cole blinked and narrowed his gaze until realization sliced through him.   "Ma'am, I could've done that a long time ago if I'd been