ChasetheLightning by Madeline Baker Page A

kiss, and she was like putty in his
hands.
    And then he was kissing her again, his mouth slowly seducing
hers, filling her mind with vivid, full-color images of the two of them
writhing on her bed amid tangled sheets.
    “Stop,” she gasped.
    He drew back, his deep brown eyes smoldering. “You don’t
mean that.”
    “Yes, I do. I can’t breathe.”
    He smiled, a look brimming with masculine self-satisfaction.
“Guess we’d better slow down a little.”
    She shrugged out of his embrace. “I think…” She drew in a
shaky breath. “I think I’d better go fix breakfast.”
    “Sure,” he said, a knowing gleam in his eye.
    Turning on her heel, she left the barn, acutely conscious of
his gaze on her back.
     
    He entered the kitchen a short time later, sniffed
appreciatively. “Smells good.”
    “Thank you.” She gestured at the table. “Sit down, it’s
ready.”
    He sat down, automatically putting his back to the wall.
“You’re gonna spoil me.”
    She was pretty sure women had been doing that ever since he
learned how to smile.
    She served him waffles, eggs, bacon and orange juice, filled
a plate for herself, and sat down across from him. Waffles, she thought. She
never made them for herself.
    “You’re a helluva cook,” he remarked.
    “Thank you.”
    “I reckon you’re good at just about everything,” he said,
his voice silky soft.
    She had no doubt at his meaning. Heat spiraled through her,
pooling deep in the core of her being.
    This was ridiculous, she thought irritably. She was a grown
woman, but she was behaving like a starry-eyed teenager with her first crush.
Probably because that was exactly how she felt.
    She watched him eat, fascinated by his hands. They were big
and brown, with long fingers and square nails. She imagined them holding a
gun…imagined them sliding over her bare skin….
    She shook her head. Enough was enough! The man was a bank
robber, for crying out loud, not Antonio Banderas! She smiled faintly. He had
eyes like Antonio’s…dark and smoldering, filled with secrets that begged to be
discovered.
    “Amanda?”
    “What?”
    “I’d like to see more of your world.”
    “Oh, sure. We can go into town in a few days, if you like.”
    “Why can’t we go today?”
    She frowned. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”
    “Don’t worry about me.”
    “Okay, we can go today, whenever you’re ready.”
    “I’ll need my gun.”
    “You don’t need it here.”
    “Like hell.”
    “Well, you don’t. Men don’t go around wearing six-guns these
days.”
    “No?” he asked dubiously.
    “No. Besides, I’m not stupid enough to let a stranger have a
gun in my house.”
    He lifted a quizzical brow. “You afraid I’m going to shoot
you?”
    “Well, you are a bank robber.”
    “This isn’t a bank.”
    “Very funny.”
    “Dammit, woman, give me my weapon!”
    “No.”
    “You can give it to me,” he said, his voice low and deadly,
“or I can tear this place apart looking for it. It’s up to you.”
    He meant it. She didn’t doubt him for a minute. With a sigh
of exasperation, she relented. “Stay here,” she said, “I’ll get it.”
    He watched her leave the room, annoyed that she thought he
would do her harm. He had never raised a hand to a woman in his life.
    She returned a few minutes later carrying his gunbelt and
holster. She held it out to him the way she might have held a dead rat. “Here.”
    “Obliged.” He took the gunbelt, slid his Colt from the
holster, and opened the loading gate to check his ammunition. He spun the
cylinder; then, satisfied, he dropped the gun back into its leather.
    “Before we go to town, we need to talk about that gun,” she
said earnestly.
    He stood to buckle the belt around his waist, settling it
comfortably.
    “So talk,” he said.
    “Men just don’t carry guns in public anymore,” she said.
“Not in town anyway.”
    He nodded. “A lot of cow towns had rules like that. Liquor
and firearms don't mix.”
    “You don't want