Under A Prairie Moon by Madeline Baker Page B

anybody in the back, or anybody who wasn’t about to shoot me.”
    “I believe you,” Kathy said. “Calm down.”
    “Calm down! How would you feel if someone wrote a pack of lies about you?”
    “Well, I guess I’d be upset.”
    “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re writing that book,” he muttered.
    “Yes, well, don’t get your hopes up. I don’t know that anyone will ever want to publish it.”
    “You’d better go close the windows.”
    “Why?”
    He grinned at her. “It’s raining.”
    “Is it?” She listened a moment and then she heard it, the soft whisper of rain on the roof.
    “I’d better find a bucket,” she said, pushing away from the table. “There’s a hole the size of the Grand Canyon in one of the bedrooms.”
    He laughed softly. “Better find a big bucket.”
    “Maybe I can cover the hole with some plastic,” she said, thinking of the plastic sheeting she used to cover the floor when she painted.
    She opened a drawer and rummaged around until she found the hammer and a handful of nails.
    “What do you think you’re doing?”
    “I’m going up on the roof.”
    “I’ll take care of it.”
    “I can do it.”
    He shook his head as he took the hammer and nails from her hand. In his day, women had been content to act like women.
    “Dalton.”
    “Let’s not argue about this, okay? That roof’s gonna be slippery.”
    “Well…”
    “Besides, if you break your neck, I won’t have anyone to talk to.”
    Defeated, Kathy blew out a sigh. “I’ll get the plastic.”
    She spread towels over the carpet to soak up the water, then put a bucket under the hole in case the plastic didn’t hold. Even though she could have taken care of the leak herself, she was glad she hadn’t had to climb up there. She might not be afraid of ghosts and goblins, but she was afraid of heights. She glanced up as she heard the sound of hammering, imagining Dalton up there, hair blowing in the wind. The leak wasn’t quite as bad as she had made it out to be, but she was still going to have to see about getting the roof repaired or replaced.
    “How’s that?” he called.
    “Fine.” She picked up the wet towels, carried them downstairs and dumped them in the washing machine.
    A few minutes later, Dalton came in the back door.
    “I’ll get you a towel,” she said, and then stared at him. He wasn’t wet.
    He grinned at her, then shrugged. “Don’t ask. I don’t know why.” The sun didn’t warm him, the cold of winter didn’t affect him, he didn’t get wet when it rained.
    “Well,” she said, covering a yawn with her hand, “I think I’m ready for bed.”
    “I’ll say good night then.”
    “Good night. Thanks for taking care of that leak for me.”
    He nodded, his mind filling with images of Kathy getting undressed, slipping between sweet-smelling sheets, her hair spread like dark silk over the pillow. He cleared his throat. “If you buy some shingles, I’ll repair the roof.”
    Desire hummed between them. She had a sudden, inexplicable yearning to touch him, to run her hand over that wide muscular chest, to press her lips to his.
    “Kathy?”
    “What?” She stared at him, her mind blank. What had they been talking about?
    He moved toward her, and she backed up, afraid he would try to kiss her. Afraid she would let him. The roof. They had been talking about the hole in the roof. “I’ll probably just have the whole thing replaced.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest to keep from reaching for her again. “That’s probably a good idea.”
    “Yes. Well, good night.”
    “Night.”
    He watched her leave the room, thinking it was too bad the rain had no affect on him, because he could sure as hell use a cold shower.

Chapter Seven
     
    The next week flew by. She painted the upstairs bedrooms—one a pale sky blue, one a darker shade of blue and one white. Now, cleaning up the mess from the last one, she wondered idly what she was going to do with three empty rooms. One of them, the