Payton's Woman (36 page)

Her muscles tensed, and
her skin flushed, but she couldn’t pull her gaze from the sight. He wore no
belt for support, only suspenders that dangled around his legs. They were long
legs with muscular thighs that couldn’t be hidden even with the heavy material
of his tan colored trousers.

Aware her mouth gaped
open, Cassie pressed her lips together and tried to swallow, but her mouth went
dry. Her eyes stung from staring at him, but she couldn’t force her eyelids to
blink.

Her gaze followed the
path of hair swirling up his body. Beneath the dark, curly hair, his skin
stretched taunt over the rippled muscles of his belly, the curved swell of his
chest, up to the hollow at the base of his throat. Her gaze wandered upward.

He had a bold face,
strong and masculine, with a square jaw and a nose that looked as if it
might’ve once been broken. Dark brown hair fell in no particular pattern across
his forehead while the sides were swept back from his face. A moustache the
same shade of brown covered his upper lip, although the rest of his face
appeared closely shaved. No, freshly shaved. Lather streaked his face and neck.

While she studied him,
he seemed to do the same to her. His gaze brushed the length of her body and
lingered near her feet. She glanced down to see what he found so interesting. A
choked gasp caught in her throat. Her stocking-clad legs were exposed to his
view. Quickly, she tucked her feet under her body and pushed the hem of her
bright yellow skirt over her legs.

His lips curled into a
lopsided grin as a sparkle glinted in his soft brown eyes. He stroked his
fingers across his wet jaw. “If you wanted to watch me shave, you could’ve come
in my room. You didn’t have to peek at me through the keyhole.”

Shocked at his
accusation, she snapped back with a sharp denial. “I was not looking through
your keyhole.”

“Then why are you
sitting in front of my door?” he asked in a serious tone, although the amused
look remained.

“I forgot my gloves. I
mistakenly thought this was my room, and—” Her lips twisted together to prevent
the rest of the words from tumbling out. This rude man didn’t deserve an
explanation.

“You can still come in
and watch me shave.”

“I have no intention of
watching you do anything. Now will you please close your door so I can get up?”

“What kind of man would
do a thing like that?” His dark eyebrows furled. “I’m not about to slam the
door in your face and leave you sitting there. Let me help you up.”

He bent down and gripped
her arms above the elbows, but as his fingers encircled her upper arms, visions
of being dragged into his room flashed in her mind.

“Get your hands off me.”
She tried to squirm free of his hold. “I don’t want to go in your room.”

“I’m only trying to help
you up.”

“I don’t need your help.
Just unhand me.” Every muscle in her body tightened as she fought his effort to
lift her. She pulled one arm free of his grip and slapped at his other hand.
When he didn’t stop, she tried to get her feet set under her so she could stand
on her own, but the petticoats wrapped around her legs.

She grabbed his wrist in
an attempt to wrench his hand from her arm, but it felt like gripping knotted
steel. The strength he had in one arm seemed more than she had in her entire
body. He lifted her even though she struggled against him.

“Let go of me, you
brute!”

His grip on her arm
eased, but with the resistance she exerted, along with the awkward position of
her feet tangled in layers of petticoats, she slipped from his grasp and fell
back to the floor with a thud.

A groan tumbled from her
lips when her bottom smacked the wood floor, but the pain didn’t prevent her
from planning an escape. Quickly, she gathered up her skirt and petticoats, no
longer concerned with exposing her legs to his view.

Before getting her feet
set, he reached for her again. He put both hands around her waist and lifted
her from the floor.

She put her arms in
front to shield her breasts in case he pulled her against his body, but he
didn’t attempt such a crude liberty.

“Calm down, lady. I’m
not going to hurt you.”

“Get your hands off me,”
she demanded.

“I will, but you’re
shaking so badly, I’m afraid you’ll fall down again.”

He spoke the truth. Fear
and exertion had contorted her body into tight knots. Now that she’d quit
struggling, her muscles unraveled at a rapid pace. She shook so violently she
doubted her legs could hold her if she tried to stand on her own.

She inhaled deeply and
let out a ragged breath. When she took a few more gulps of air, the trembling
subsided to a tiny shiver.

Her body relaxed, but
her brain whirled with heightened sensitivity. The man stood so close that
every detail of him magnified in her mind. The woodsy aroma of his shaving
lather tingled her nostrils. The whispering sound of his steady breathing
reverberated in her ears.

Her bare hand pressed
against his naked chest. The soft mat of hair crinkled beneath her palm. As she
spread out her fingers, the crisp hairs tickled the sensitive area between her
fingers. She withdrew her hand, but not before strong, hard muscles rippled
against her palm. Her fingers curled, allowing her nails to lightly score his
skin as her hand slipped away.

She forced herself to
look at his face so she didn’t stare at his naked chest. He stood at least six
feet tall, and she had to tilt her head back to see him. As her gaze brushed
across his face, a dramatic change occurred in his expression. No trace of a
smile remained. His eyes no longer glimmered with amusement. Instead, a fire
seemed to smolder in his brown eyes. The heat transferred to her body. Her
heart fluttered, and her breathing reduced to nothing more than shallow gulps
of air.

His grip tightened at
her waist. He pulled her to him as his lips parted.

Suddenly, she became
aware of his intent. He was about to kiss her.

Her breasts pressed
against his naked chest as he drew her close. Warmth flashed through her body.
The urge to resist faded. Her own lips parted as she mentally calculated the
feel of his mouth. His lips looked rough and chapped, but she guessed his mouth
would be gentle against hers.

A lifetime of proper
behavior forced its way into her brain. Sanity returned just before their lips
touched. She pushed against his bare chest with both hands. “How dare you put
your hands on me. And how dare you take liberties.”

“Liberties?” His grip
eased. He stepped back, causing his hands to slip from her waist. His forehead
crinkled. “You’re the one taking liberties.”

“Me?” she blurted out.
“I was on the floor—helpless. Then you picked me up and tried to drag me into
your room.”

“I wasn’t planning on
doing any such thing.” Indignation tinged his voice. The lopsided grin
reappeared. “Of course, I might be persuaded to carry you off into my room, but
only if you ask me real nice.”

Her mouth dropped open,
but she closed it enough to utter her opinion. “You are a very rude man.”

“If it’ll make you feel
better, you can slap my face.” His fingers rubbed across his freshly shaven
cheek. “But be careful, darlin’, you might hurt your hand.”

He was probably right.
His face looked like it had been chiseled out of granite. “You are certainly no
gentleman.”

“I’m not a Yankee
gentleman, that’s for sure,” he drawled out.

His admission startled
her so much that the shock left her incapable of speech.

Abruptly, she turned and
hurried away from him. When she reached the next room, she paused to look at
the number on the door and the number dangling from her key. They matched. The
last thing she wanted was to end up at the wrong door again, not with him
watching. She didn’t need to look in his direction; she could feel him staring
at her.

After stepping into her
room, she locked the door and leaned against it for extra measure. She wrapped
her arms across her trembling body while trying to make sense of what had just
happened. There’d been something about the way he’d looked at her, with those
smoldering brown eyes of his that made her skin shiver and her heart race. But
had she actually considered kissing him?

Her head shook in
denial. While growing up in Boston, her grandmother had raised her to be a
proper lady. And ladies never kissed gentlemen they barely knew.

He’d also had the
audacity to accuse her of taking liberties. Her palms tingled at the thought of
touching his bare chest, but she’d only done so in an effort to push him away.

She closed her eyes,
hoping to force thoughts of him from her mind, but images of his naked body
appeared on the inside of her eyelids. Frustrated with the pictures in her
brain, she opened her eyes and paced around the room.

When she spotted the
white gloves laying on the bed, the reason she’d left her room surfaced in her
mind. The deputy who had met her earlier today when her steamer had docked, had
informed her that her father’s former attorney required her presence in the
sheriff’s office at five o’clock about a matter of great importance.

Cassie pulled up the
edge of her skirt to examine the ripped petticoat. She breathed a sigh of
relief when she determined the torn area didn’t need to be mended. After
straightening her clothing and tugging on the gloves, she opened the door just
enough to peer out into the hallway. No one wandered about, so she slipped out
of her room and crossed to the far side of the hall. She almost passed the
gunman’s room when his door opened wide.

Startled, she turned to
face him. Her back pressed against the wall for support when her knees wobbled.
She looked toward the stairway before glancing back at him. At least he was
dressed. A white shirt covered his chest. A black ribbon tie was knotted at his
throat. He shrugged his shoulders into a brown jacket while dangling a gray
western hat in his fingers.

When she looked at his
face, his lips curved into a smile—a nice smile. Not that lopsided half-a-grin
he’d done earlier. She was tempted to smile back, but resisted. He might appear
harmless now, but a few moments ago he’d behaved horribly.

Another door opened onto
the hallway. Cassie heard voices. The noise jolted her into action. She dashed
toward the stairs. When she reached the center of the hotel lobby, she glanced
behind her. Other people milled around the room, but she spotted him easily.
With his tall, muscular frame, he stood out from the others. She saw his face
over their heads. He stared directly at her, and he still smiled.

Her heart beat faster,
and she couldn’t catch her breath. This same reaction had occurred earlier when
he’d held her against his body, only now he stood halfway across the room.

She had to get out of
the hotel and into open space. Fresh air—that’s what she needed.

****

Mitch Hardin followed
the young woman through the lobby. By the time he reached the front walk, she’d
put a fair distance between them. She clutched her skirt in front with both
hands while weaving through a crowd of people with remarkable grace as well as
a lot of speed. Her body turned and twisted with an almost fluid motion of
elegance and dexterity.

If she knew the view she
presented him, she wouldn’t hold her skirt so tightly. His intense gaze
distinguished the faint outline of her slender thighs and the sway of her
shapely hips.

His eyebrows furrowed as
he watched her hurry down the walk. Her hasty departure made it obvious she
intended to get as far away from him as possible.

Disgusted with himself,
Mitch uttered a heavy sigh. He’d only meant to be amusing when he’d found her
sitting outside his door, but instead, he’d frightened her. Anyone would be
when looking down the wrong end of a Colt.

When he’d first heard
someone trying to open his door, he’d not known who he’d find on the other
side. Certainly not such a fascinating lady. He recalled how she looked like a
fluffy ball of golden sunshine lying at his feet. Her bright yellow dress had
billowed out around her. Wisps of reddish-gold hair had spilled from beneath
her golden straw hat. Even her cheeks had glowed with a radiant, sunny tint.

Her eyes were the only
things that had not looked like sunshine. Instead, he’d been reminded of
sparkling pools of the purest blue. Turquoise blue.

She mesmerized him as if
casting a spell upon him. When he’d picked her up from the floor and held her
in front of him, all rational thought had left his mind. Her closeness had
overwhelmed his senses. Even now, he felt the touch of her warm hand on his
bare skin.

Her scent lingered in
his memory. There had been a hint of perfume—roses, perhaps, but there was
more. He inhaled deeply as if experiencing again the glow of her skin, the
sheen from her hair, and her sheer feminine essence.

When he’d looked at her
face, he’d been captivated by the sparkle in her eyes, the flush on her cheeks,
and the glisten of her lips.

Then he’d tried to kiss
her.

She’d been right when
accusing him of taking liberties. That’s why he waited for her to leave her
room again. He wanted to apologize, but he’d only frightened her more. He
hadn’t intended to open his door so abruptly, but he’d not wanted to miss an
opportunity to talk with her.

For just a moment, with
her back pressed against the wall, it appeared as if she smiled, but she
suddenly bolted for the stairs. That’s when he decided not to crowd her. A
public place with other people around might put her more at ease. But it looked
like he’d have to catch her first.

Fortunately, she turned
in the same direction he needed to go for his appointment. A good friend had
asked him to act as bodyguard for an old spinster from Boston who’d be in town
for a few days. He had to meet his friend and the old lady in the sheriff’s
office at five o’clock. But right now he wanted to spend a few moments with an
enchanting young lady. He’d behaved crudely and wanted to redeem his honor—at
least in her eyes.