Joshua and the Cowgirl by Sherryl Woods

over her again, reminding her, in the very core of her being, of what it meant to be a woman. She’d spent so long in what was predominantly a man’s world that the rediscovery came as something of a shock. It was an awakening that could only lead to disaster, especially if she counted in any way on Joshua to keep that feeling alive on a permanent basis.
    For one wistful moment she tried to imagine him staying, tried to envision a lifetime of powerful sensations such as those he’d stirred in her last night. No matter how hard she tried, though, the picture wouldn’t stay in focus. He wouldn’t mean to hurt her by leaving, but he would leave. There was no question in her mind about that. Getting back to what he thought of as civilization had been on his mind from the instant he’d put those fancy, impractical shoes of his into ankle-deep snow.
    That meant there could be no repeat of what happened during the night—no more smooth-as-silk kisses, no more innocent touches destined to lead to something more intimate. Celibacy was something with which she’d been familiar for a long time now. There was no reason to believe she couldn’t embrace that life-style again after such a brief lapse in judgment.
    As Garrett brushed and braided her hair, she studied her face in the foggy bathroom mirror. Her eyes seemed wider and brighter than usual, her mouth softer and more vulnerable, her skin a healthy pink. Like a woman in love! No, more like a woman who’d lost the last of her sanity. She yanked her hair tighter, as if to tame the emotions that had caused the changes in her appearance. She stiffened her spine resolutely and curved her lips downward. Better, she decided. Unfortunately there was nothing she could do about the glow of her complexion or the defiant sparkle in her eyes.
    Reminding herself that her entire future hinged on her ability to impress Joshua with her intention to pretend that nothing untoward had happened between them, she opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the cabin’s main room.
    While she’d been gone, Joshua had added wood to the fire. Now he was in the kitchen, humming cheerfully as he poured pancake batter onto a griddle. He glanced at her over his shoulder and smiled.
    “Breakfast’s almost ready. Want some coffee?”
    “Sure,” she said, pleased with the brisk response. Unfortunately she couldn’t control her hesitant steps as well. An intuitive man would sense at once that she was running scared. As she’d already noted a dozen times in recent days, Joshua was uncannily intuitive where she was concerned.
    He was also too damned attractive, she noted regretfully. With stubble darkening his cheeks, his feet bare and his flannel shirt hanging open to the waist, he promised untold masculine delights. She was caught off guard by the suggestion of intimacy that still lingered, by the captivating web of domesticity that surrounded them. She had never, in all of her adult life, shared such a morning ritual with a man, not unless breakfasts from the back of a chuckwagon during roundup counted. Not once during all of those roundups had she felt the slightest temptation to kiss the back of the cook’s neck, as she did now. Drawn across the room, she was within inches of doing just that. Then she stopped, horrified by how easily her good intentions vanished in Joshua’s tempting presence.
    “The snow’s stopped,” he informed her, turning a stack of perfect, golden pancakes onto a plate and handing it to her.
    She blinked in bemusement, barely grabbing the plate before it tumbled from her uncooperative fingers. “Terrific,” she said aloud, but a startling shaft of disappointment speared her. If the storm had passed, it would be only a matter of time before they could return to the truck. The idea did not seem nearly as appealing as it had mere seconds earlier.
    As if he’d guessed her mixed reaction, Joshua regarded her intently. “Going back won’t be the end of it, you