Two Alone (12 page)

"
O
kay so far?" She nodded. "Re
ady?" She replied in the same m
indless way. He took all her weight on his hands as she lifted
her
left foot over the edge of the tub and set it on the floor.

"
Oh
!"

"What now?"

He
was just about to release her when she made the
e
xclama
ti
on and tipped forward slightly. With lightning reflexes, his
arm
slid around her, clasping her just below her breasts.

"The floor is cold."

"Chris
t
, don't scare me like that."

"Sorry. It was a shock."

Each was thinking, "You can say that again."

Rusty groped for the back of the chair to lend her suppo
rt
and hastily clutched the towel to the front of her body.
Of
course that still left her back naked to his eyes, but she trusted that he was being a gentleman and wasn't taking advantage.

"All right?"

"Yes."

His hands moved from her front to her sides, but he didn't release her entirely. "Sure?"

"
Yes
.
" s
he
answered
t
hickly, "I'm fine."

He withdrew his hands. Rusty sighed with relief—as it turned out, prematurely.

"What the hell is this?" She gasped when his hand cupped the side of her hip. His thumb made a long, slow sweep acros
s
her buttock, sluicing off water. Then the other buttock
wa
s
similarly examined. "What the devil happened to you? I thought you said he didn't hurt you?"

"I don't know what you mean." Breathless and dizzy, she turned her head and looked up at him over her shoulder.
His
brows were pulled together into a deep V and his mustache wa
s
curved downward with displeasure.

"You're black-and-blue."

Rusty looked over her shoulder and down the length of hci back. The first thing that registered with her was that Coop
er’s
dark
hands against her pale flesh made a very sensuous picture.
O
nly
when he made another solicitous movement with his
thu
mb did she see the bruises.

"O
h,
t
hose. They're from the ride in the travois."

H
is
eyes
swung up to hers and penetrated her with their heat.
He
kept
his hands against her flesh. His
voice was as soft as his touch
. "You should have said something."

She became entranced with the movements of his mustache
as his
mouth formed words. Perhaps that's why she whispered, "Would saying something have changed anything?"

A
strand of her hair got caught in the stubble on his chin. It
c
onnected
them like a filament of light. Not that they needed
i
t
.
T
heir stare was almost palpable. It lasted forever and wasn't
bro
ken
until
a
log in the fireplace popped loudly. They both
jum
ped
guiltil
y
.

Co
oper resumed his broody expression and growled. "No. I
t
wou
ldn
't
have changed anything."

Sec
onds
later the drape fluttered back into place behind him.
Rusty
was
trembling.
From the cold,
she averred. He
had
kept her st
anding here long enough to get chilled. She wrapped the
towel
around her and dried quickly. The cloth was so coarse
it
left h
er
skin tingling. It chafed the delicate areas of her body,
espec
i
a
lly her
nipples. When she finished drying, they were ab
normally
rosy and pointed. Achy. And throbbing. And hot.

"
It
’
s
t
he
towel,"
she muttered as she pulled on her silk long
j
ohns
.
,

"
W
hat is
it this time?" The cantankerous question
came
from
her side
of the drape.

"What?"

"
I heard
you say something."

"I said this towel would make a great scouring pad."

"It was the best I could come up with."

"I wasn't being critical."

"That'd be a first."'

She muttered something else beneath her breath, making sure he didn't overhear it this time, since it was an epithet grossly unflattering to his lineage and personality.

Aggravated, she ungracefully pulled
t
he tank top over
her
head. Her nipples poked darkly against the clinging fabric. The silkiness, which should have felt soothing after the towel, only seemed to irritate them more.

She repacked her toiletries in their carrying case and dropped down into the chair. Bending at the waist, she flipped all
the
hair forward and rubbed it vigorously with the towel, alternately brushing it. Five minutes later, she flung her head back and her semidried hair settled against her shoulders in russet waves. It wasn't styled, but it was clean, and that was a definite improvement.

It was when she was replacing her hairbrush in the cosmet
ic
kit that she noticed the condition of her nails. They had been jaggedly broken or torn away. She groaned audibly.

Within a heartbeat, the curtain was thrown back and Cooper was standing there. "'What's the matter? Is it your leg? Is it—"

He broke off when he realized that Rusty wasn't in any pain
.
But even if that realization hadn't shut him up, the sight of her sitting silhouetted against the golden firelight, a halo of wavy cinnamon-colored hair wreathing her head like an aura would have. She was wearing a top that was more alluring than concealing. The shadows of her nipples drew his eyes like magnets.

Even now, he could feel the heaviness of her breasts where they had rested on his forearms minutes ago.

H
is blood turned to molten lava, hot and thick and rampant. It tinged toward his sex where it coll
ected and produced the normal, b
ut curren
tl
y unwanted, reaction. It was painful in its intensity.

And since he couldn't alleviate it, he released his sexual tension b
y
mother means: fury. His face grew dark wi
th
menace. His heavy
br
ows, more gold than brown in the firelight, were intimidatingly drawn into a frown over his eyes. Since he co
ul
dn't taste her with
his
tongue—as he was dying to do—he'd use it to verbally lash her.

"
You were groaning over your damn fingernails?" he shouted.

"
T
hey're all chipped and broken,"
Rusty
yelled back at him. "
Better them than your neck, you little fool."

"Stop calling mc that, Cooper. I'm not a fool."

"
Y
ou couldn't even figure out that those two hillbillies wanted
to ra
pe you."

H
er mouth drew up into a sullen pout that only inflamed him
furt
her because he wanted to kiss it so badly. His unquenchable desire prompted him to say ugly, hurtful things. "You did all you
cou
ld to entice them, didn't you? Sitting near the fire when you k
ne
w
what it does to your eyes and complexion. Brushing your
hair
until it crackled. You know what that kind of thing does to
a man
,
don't you? You know it drives him crazy with lust."

Then
, realizing that his tirade was as good as a confession, he
sneer
ed, "I'm surprised you didn't come out in that getup last
ni
gh
t
and flaunt yourself in front of Reuben, the poor jerk."

R
usty's eyes smarted with tears. His estimation of her was far
lower
than she had thought. Not only did he think she was less, he thought she was no better than a whore.

"I didn't do anything on purpose. You know that, no matter what you say." Instinctively, in self-defense, she crossed her arms over her chest.

Suddenly he dropped to his knees in front of her and jerked her arms away. In the same motion, he whipped the lethal knife from its scabbard at his waist. Rusty squealed in fright when he clasped her left hand tightly and raised the glittering blade to it. He made a short, efficient job of paring her nails down even with
t
he tops of her fingers. When he dropped that hand, she looked at it remorsefully.

"That looks awful."

"Well, I'm the only one here to see them and I don't give a damn. Give me your other hand."

She complied. She had no choice. In an arm-wrestling match, she could hardly win against him. And now her breasts were fair game for his condemning gaze again. But when his eyes glanced up from the bizarre manicure he was giving her, they
w
e
re
n’t
condemning. Nor were they cold with contempt. They were warm with masculine interest. A lot of interest. So much interest that Rusty's stomach took another of those elevator rides that never quite took it to the top or the bottom but kept it bobbing up and down somewhere in between.

Cooper took his rime trimming the nails on her right hand, as if they needed more care and attention than
t
hose on her left. His face was on a level with her chest. In spite of the awful things he'd said to her just moments ago, she wanted to run her
f
ingers through his long, unruly hair.

As she wa
t
ched his lips, set firmly in a scowl, she
couldn'
t
help but remember how soft they could become in a kiss—how warm
an
d damp—and how marvelous his mustache had felt. If it had
felt
that good agains
t
her upper lip, how good would it feel
aga
inst other part
s
of her body? Her neck? Her ear? Her areola— while his lips tugged at her nipple with the gentle fervency of a
b
ab
y
hungry for milk?

H
e finished cutting her nails and sheathed his knife. But he didn't release her hand. He held it, staring down at it, then laid it
o
n he
r
thigh, pressing it there with his own hand. Rusty thought
he
r heart would explode from the pressure inside her chest.

H
e kept his head down, stari
ng at the spot where his hand c
overed hers high on her thigh. His eyes looked closed from
Rusty's
angle. The lashes were thick and crescent shaped. She
not
iced that they, like his mustache and eyebrows, were tipped
wit
h gold. In the summertime his hair would be naturally
streaked
, bleached from the sun.

"
Rusty."

H
e said her name. There was a slight creak in his voice, a groaning protest of the raw emotion behind his saying it. Rusty didn't move, but her heart was beating so fast and wildly that
it st
irred the silk that wasn't doing a very adequa
t
e job of
cove
ring her.

H
e removed his hand from he
rs and placed each of his on eith
er side o
f
the chair seat, bracketing her hips. His knuckles
pressed
into their flaring shape. He remained staring fixedly at
her
hand, which still lay on her thigh. He looked ready to lower his head and wearily rest his cheek against it, or to bend down
and
tenderly kiss it, or to nibble on the very fingers he'd just cut t
h
e nails from.