“I’m done.”
She jerked her head up, realizing she’d dozed. He stared at her hair, grinning. “What? You better not have fucked it up any worse.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Why you looking at me like an idiot then?”
He met her gaze and held it until the hairs on her body stood at attention. “I think you’re cute.”
The term shattered the moment. Cute. Like a child. Judging by the concern taking over his expression, he was as clueless as a cumquat. Why should that surprise her? Nobody saw her as a woman. Why the fuck was that news to her? She was glad he didn’t see her as a woman. The last thing she needed was the risk of a gorgeous fake cowboy trying to win her for her inheritance and then treating her like a slave the rest of her life while he brought home real women to fuck right under her nose. Come hell or high water, she’d die an old bitter bitty before that happened.
“Turn around so I can dress. Hell, what’s the point.” She boldly threw off the blanket and stormed past him and grabbed her clothes. “Not like there’s anything’ to see.”
Despite her attempt at nonchalance, she found herself suddenly feeling very naked. She kept her back turned and quickly covered her worst feature, those sad little non-existent breasts. The second she thought it, memories assaulted her. His lips there. Sucking. Oh God. Her pulse went haywire and her nipples tightened along with some interior muscles.
She snatched the blanket and hid her lower half and spun to him, heat flooding her body. When she faced him, her heart hammered at the look in his eyes. Uh-oh. Man on fire. His eyes were hooded and sex appeal oozed from his suddenly parted lips. He looked like a predator ready to devour. Not good. And yet the look made her skin quiver and her bones tremble and melt.
Had he drugged her in order to molest her? Drugged himself in order to overcome her shortcomings? The fact that he did anything sexual to her only proved how desperate men were. They’d fuck farm animals given half a chance. For some reason, she was pretty sure there had been no sex between them, not sure how she knew that but thank God she did. Judging by that heart-stopping drawer-dripping look on his handsome face, she’d venture to say that whatever they did, the man liked it.
Weirdo.
Maybe he was a pedophile. She could've passed for a fourteen year old boy and maybe with the new hairdo it was more than he could stand.
Freak.
He suddenly seemed to realize his freakiness and spun around. “God, I’m so sorry, I…” He finished off his freaky with odd sputters and grunts. Not the sexiest sound she’d ever heard out of his mouth. A bolt of heat slammed her pelvis as she recalled a sound he had made. She sucked her breath in, remembering. She’d kissed him. Oh. My. Ranch.
She quickly crammed her trembling scrawny limbs into her jeans. What had the bastard done to her? Her hand paused on her zipper as she recalled an image of his head…between her damn legs!
“What in God’s name did you do to me while I was sickly and unconscious?” He spun around and she had to forced her mind not to get distracted with the smooth skin of his corded muscular neck, or the memory of her lips on it. Or the way his skin tasted. She pointed her finger at him. “I’m havin some strange memories mister. If I find out that you…slipped me some mushroom juice with my medicine?” She nodded with wide eyes, finger pointing as she worked out a justified punishment for such a crime. “I’m…I’m…”
“Gonna fire me?”
She coughed a you wish laugh. “A lot worse, you’ll wished you’d never laid eyes on me, that you can be sure.”
He cracked a devastating slow grin. “I highly doubt that.”
Ohhh, shit, jiggly honey words again.
“You stay the hell away from me, you hear? I need you to help me through this catastrophe and I’m willing to pretend nothin’ happened in this little shack. You followin’ me dumbo?” Damn it he had her so flustered she sounded like a backwoods hick.
“I am.”
“And I’ll pretend you don’t have that sarcastic smirk on your…mouth.” It felt like a crime not attaching an insult to that body part, but only things like sexy, gorgeous, delicious came to her damn mind. “Are you a scorcerer? Because I’m not feelin’ like myself. Did you put some kind of spell on me?”
He looked innocent enough as he chuckled his no.
This one was good.
She pointed a hard finger at him. “I’ve got a hawk’s eye on you bubba.”
He gave her an aw shucks look. “Yes ma'am. You ready?”
Dammit she hated the way he cooperated so easily. She was used to Joe, who always and forever had some kind of comeback that never failed to be somehow disrespectful, but not directly enough that she could legitimately punch him out.