Rocky Mountain Cowboy by S.A. Monk Page A

upstairs. In her room, she sat down on the edge of her bed and remained there for a long long time, just resting her aching body so she could get up and walk to the bathroom.
    Eventually she stripped out of her dusty work clothes, put on her red kimono and walked toward the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom. She was taking her hair out of its single braid, picking out pieces of hay chaff and groaning at how painful it was to raise her arms, when she noticed the shower was occupied.
    “Dammit, Peter, how could you have beat me to the shower again?” she cried in frustration. “Hurry and get out! Tonight, I need some really hot water for once. I am sore, sore, sore, and I need to soak.” Stepping up to the plastic curtain that was drawn closed across the tub, she was just about to peek in when a male voice that was definitely not Peter’s answered her.
    “Hand me a towel and it’s all yours.”
    Jenny jumped back with a startled shriek. Her butt met the sink. Her heart was pounding hard as a long tanned, lightly haired forearm reached out from around the shower curtain, hand out-stretched, fingers wiggling. Shaken by how close she’d come to looking at Hawk naked, she grabbed a towel and quickly shoved it into his open palm.
    “Anxious to get rid of me, huh?” Hawk was laughing as he pulled the curtain aside and stepped out of the tub, clothed only in the towel she’d handed him.
    Flustered, turning ten shades of red, she stammered, “No, no, I... Ah, I’ll... come back ... later.”
    Before she could make a swift retreat, he stalled her departure with a hand on her forearm. “No, I’m finished.”
    The longer she stared at him, the less she wanted to leave. Confronted with his near nudity, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from looking. His white towel was slung low on his narrow hips and tucked into his leanly muscled waist, below his very fascinating male navel.
    Most of his bronze skin was still wet. He reached for another towel and began to dry his chest, then his arms, then his dripping hair as if she wasn’t standing less than three feet from him. While his face was buried in the second towel, Jenny gave him a most thorough assessment, her mind running away with itself with visions of what she might have seen had she peeked first and complained later.
    He was incredibly, undeniably, profoundly masculine. His chest was devoid of hair, which allowed his muscular upper body clear definition. From waist up, he was so deeply tanned, Jenny knew he must work outside in the warmer weather without a shirt. His wide shoulders and powerful arms were roped with muscle from the physical labor he did every day, as was his lower body, at least what she could see of it. And like a true cowboy who spent most of his life on a horse, his lightly haired legs were bowed just enough to tell her what he did for a living. Even his feet were beautiful— long and narrow and well-shaped, very white and even soft.
    In her profession, she’d seen a lot of physically beautiful men, and this man was definitely an eye-catcher. She’d found that really handsome men were usually full of themselves. So far, though, she hadn’t seen any indication of that kind of ego in her father’s partner. Was it really possible someone this good looking could also be a genuinely nice guy?
    Lost in speculation, she was caught staring when Hawk lowered the towel from his head. The slow discerning half-grin he gave her told her he was completely aware where her eyes had been wandering.
    “The shower is still running,” he reminded her.
    Jenny was helplessly enthralled by the teasing sparkle in his electric blue eyes. She couldn’t seem to form a reply, he unnerved her so.
    “Better get in while the water is still really hot ,” he advised with another of those devastating half grins. “I’m sorry you’re sore, sore, sore tonight. Guess that truck was more of a bear than I thought.”
    “Yes.” It was all she could say, and it sounded