ChasetheLightning by Madeline Baker Page B

to attract unwanted attention, do you?”
    He considered it. “Okay, I'll leave the gunbelt here and
tuck my Colt under my shirt.”
    “But that’s carrying a concealed weapon! That's against
the…”
    “Law?” he finished with a smile.
    Exasperated, she threw up her hands. “You won't like modern
jails. I can promise you that.”
    “Hell, I don’t like any kind of jail,” he said lightly.
“I’ll be…discreet.”
    “You really don’t need to wear it here in the house,
either,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I promise not to attack
you.”
    His gaze moved over her, hot and heavy. “Afraid I can’t
promise you the same,” he drawled, and resisted the urge to smile. “But that
hasn’t got anything to do with six-guns, now does it?”
    She wasn’t laughing at him now.
    They finished the rest of the meal in silence.
    Putting down his coffee cup, Trey pushed away from the
table. “Is it all right with you if I use the bathtub?”
    “Of course. There are clean towels in the cupboard.”
    He nodded. “I don’t reckon you’d wanna wash my back?”
    “I reckon not,” she retorted.
    Smothering a grin, he sauntered out of the room.
    He was trouble. More trouble than she had ever imagined, she
thought as she watched him walk away.
    But he came wrapped in a mighty nice package.

Chapter Nine
     
    Trey stood in the bathroom, watching the tub fill with
water. It was nothing like the bathtubs he was used to. It was oval shaped, and
made of some slick material he didn’t recognize. And it was sky blue. Amanda
had shown him how to adjust the water to whatever temperature he preferred. He
shook his head. Hot running water piped right into the kitchen and the
bathrooms. He had never heard of such a thing.
    Earlier, he had grabbed his razor from his saddlebag, noting
as he did so, that while all his gear was still there, the money was missing.
He would have to ask Miss Amanda about that, he thought. He had risked his life
for that money, and he didn’t intend to lose it now.
    He shaved over the sink while he waited for the tub to fill.
Removing his gunbelt, he wrapped the belt around the holster and sheath and
laid it on top of the sink. He put the lid down on the toilet, sat and pulled
off his boots, then stood up and shrugged out of his clothes. He carefully
unwrapped the bandage swathed around his middle. The wound ached, especially
when he moved too quickly or forgot about it and bent over, but he had no
complaints. Hell, he was lucky to be alive.
    He lowered himself into the tub, sighed with pleasure as the
hot water enveloped him. Leaning back, his head resting against the wall, he
closed his eyes. Heaven, he thought. Pure heaven.
    * * * * *
    Amanda finished making her bed, trying not to think of Trey.
Downstairs. Naked. In her bathtub.
    The thought brought a rush of heat to her cheeks. What was
wrong with her? She shied away from the answer. Tried to think of something
else, but it was useless. He had been in her house a matter of days and had
taken over her every thought. And her dreams, as well, she thought irritably.
Oh, but what dreams!
    Going downstairs, she took a load of towels out of the
washer and tossed them into the dryer, then went into the kitchen to wait for
him. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she glanced out the window, wondering
what he would think of her car, of the town.
    He entered the kitchen a few minutes later. It was all she
could do to keep from staring at him. He had shaved, revealing a strong square
jaw, and had put on the shirt she had seen in his saddlebag. The dark red
accented the black of his hair and made his brown eyes seem ever darker.
    “You ready to go?” he asked.
    She noticed he was wearing the shirt loose, square tails
outside his pants. Quite casual, she thought, until she remembered his remark
about concealing his six-gun. Now that she was looking for it, she could see
the slight bulge beneath his shirt.
    “Must you?” she asked.
    He grinned.