Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.
Concern replaced the temper in his gaze. He leaned closer. “What’s wrong? Is your head aching?”
Lacey swallowed hard and gave another moan. She didn’t answer him because if she did, she’d hurl. She knew it. It was right there, in the back of her throat.
He clenched his teeth, frustration lined his dark face. “Look, lady, I’m not the enemy here. I’m only trying to help. It would be nice if you’d be a little cooperative.”
She swallowed hard and held back her gorge.
Why couldn’t he just go away, just get out of here and leave her alone? Please, God, make him go away.
He sighed, straightened to his full height, then left, but returned almost
immediately with two aspirins and a cup of water. He held the pills out to her. Lacey swallowed the tablets, then lay back and closed her eyes. Hesitantly, Danger leaned over her once again. “Is there anything else I can
do for you? Would you like some more broth?”
Her eyes popped open. She made a strangled, little sound, her eyes wild. She lifted her hands to shove him away, but it was too late. She threw up, all over the front of his vest.
Danger stared at her, his mouth working, but no words formed. He shut his eyes and whispered a single, four-letter word that sent color flooding back to Lacey’s ashen-colored face.
Yep. He ought to do exactly what he’d threatened earlier. Toss her back in the flood waters and leave her to sink like a rock. He’d give it serious consideration. He really would.
But Lacey was the kind of person who came up smelling like roses no matter what. He was the one that smelled. Uh-huh. To be more precise, he smelled exactly like the soup he’d fed her earlier.
Well, maybe not exactly the same.
It hadn’t smelled nearly as foul as it did now.
Swearing softly, he stood up and continued muttering beneath his breath. Lacey gave him an exhausted, apologetic smile, and lay down. “I tried to get you out of my way,” she called faintly.
Danger whirled around with his mouth working. His left eye twitched. “Lady, you’re a walking catastrophe!”
Lacey closed her eyes. “I know.”
In The Arms Of Danger
But Danger didn’t hear her words. He’d already left the...
In The Arms Of Danger
Chapter Fourteen
“I’m always wonderful at night.” Mae West: ‘I’m No Angel’
Montana Backcountry Sat.10:00 p.m.
Danger left Lacey alone inside the tent. As fresh night air washed over him, he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sour smell that clung to his skin and vest.
“Damn woman.”
Hell, he hadn’t thought the soup he’d fed her was that bad.
The little cat could have apologized for upchucking all over him. But had she? Oh, no! She’d simply grinned as if the thing she’d done had delighted her clear to her soul.
He glanced down at his clenched hands. He ought to march right back in there and give her hell. He knew she’d aimed right at him. Of course, she had. She hated him. Lacey Weston thrived on making his life miserable. So far, she’d done a damned fine job of it, too.
Danger jerked off the smelly vest and tossed it to the ground. Squatting down beside the bank of water, he splashed his bare chest with the icy liquid, then rinsed off the vest.
By the time he made it back to the campsite, the fire was nothing but red glowing embers. After tossing some wood on it, he rummaged in his saddlebags and found a navy blue T-shirt. Slipping it over his head, he turned to stare at the tent’s entrance.
He’d be damned if he was going to take the chance and re-enter that blasted thing. What if she was waiting to waylay him? She was probably just marking her time, waiting for the opportunity to hurl all over him again.
He sighed and reached for the coffee pot. Right now, he felt as if he could drink three pots. He needed coffee and lots of it if he was going to survive the Delicate Rose of the South. It would behoove anyone not to get between him and the black gold. Not that there was anyone here but him and the little blossom.
He poured a cup of the brew and took a sip. At least he had plenty of coffee. Coe had packed a gallon size Ziploc baggie full of fresh grounds. He eyed the black clouds that boiled across the frail moonlight. Yep, sometime between now and mid-morning, it was going to downpour.
Swallowing another sip, he lowered the cup and cut his gaze toward the tent. Hell! He would have to check on her. She was in no condition to manage for herself, but a strong sense of self-preservation prevailed. It gave him reason to pause at the tent’s entrance. Up to this point, she’d certainly not proven herself trustworthy. She could be waiting to conk him over the head and make another escape. He wouldn’t put anything past her.
Muttering beneath his breath, Danger ducked his head and entered the tent. He hesitated just inside the entrance.
She looked up at him, suspicion in her eyes. “You look like a hunted man.” She winced and closed her eyes. “If you’re itching for a fight, I’m simply not up to doing battle.
Danger figured she must feel pretty rotten to admit to that. Begrudgingly, he asked, “How are you feeling?”
She massaged her temples. “Not so good. Not that you really care.”
He grunted and stormed from the tent, only to return in a matter of seconds. He held out his open palm where two aspirins lay, then thrust a cup of water at her with his other hand. “Try to keep these down this time, and if you can’t, don’t point in my direction when you lose them.”
Lacey stared at the white tablets as if he held a snake in his hands.
“For Pete’s sake,” he growled. “Take the damn things. It isn’t poison.”
She grabbed the pills, swallowed them down, then lay back. Her gaze followed his movements as he started out of the tent. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Danger hesitated at the entrance. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”
Lacey closed her eyes. “You’ll be the first.”
He watched her turn on her side and heard her groan. She had to feel like one big bruise because her body was black and blue. Maybe the aspirin would allow her to rest a bit.
It was some time before he ventured back into the tent. However, necessity won over courage. The rain had started again, not the down pour he expected, but a slow, steady, bone-chilling drizzle that sent rivulets of icy moisture trickling down the neck of his shirt.
Shivering, he refused to sleep outside with the horses and in the inclement weather one miserable moment longer. By God, it was his tent. Why should he be out in the cold and rain suffering?
Slipping off his damp shirt, Danger dried off with it and eased down beside Lacey on the sleeping bag. She was sound asleep, but shifted toward the warmth of his body. His lips parted in a silent groan as she twined herself around him like satin ribbons.
Her breasts pressed gently against his arm and chest. Her lips brushed against his throat. Threads of electricity jittered through his body. Danger muttered and turned his back to her. She edged closer, spooning against him and curling one arm around his bare waist. His breath lodged in his throat. At this rate, he’d never fall to sleep.
Restless, Danger shifted again and finally relaxed enough to drift off, only to awaken to discover Lacey nearly lying on top of him. Her lips were pressed against his chest. Her warm breath lightly teased his nipple.
Heat speared through his body, sneaking into all the little crevices of his spine and shot straight to his groin. It spiraled out of control, red-hot coils of desire. He scooted over another inch. That didn’t help. She simply clung to him like a tick and went with him.
Her hand slid downward, slowly descending, until her fingers reached the straining flesh that throbbed against the damp denim. His body jerked. Sweet Jesus! If her goal was to torture him to death then she was succeeding with flying colors.
Swearing softly, Danger removed her hand from hi
s crotch, then turned, easing her closer to him. He shuddered as her hair caught around his throat. Her lips parted slightly, making a perfect little moue of temptation and invitation. Puffs of warm air escaped her mouth and brushed his throat.
He groaned as the scent of baby powder invaded every pore of his skin. Dammit, he was on fire here. How could one tiny creature who was nothing but hair and legs, arouse him so completely?
Shit! He drew in a sharp breath and jerked back, rolling away from her. She whimpered, but didn’t awaken. Rising, Danger stepped out into the cool, rain washed air. He paused, drawing in sharp, ragged breaths. That was one mean, sneaky female. She did it to him on purpose. He knew it! She intended to torture him until he surrendered his body without a fight. The woman was dangerous, that’s what she was.
Slowly, he moved toward the water’s edge. Thank God it hadn’t started to rise any higher yet but it was still too rough and cold to swim in. He wished fervently he could jump into it. It would take the place of a cold shower rather nicely and certainly help him get his libido under control again.
The next morning, he watched Lacey awaken with a slow sensuality that only whet his sexual appetite for her. Of course, she knew exactly how to stretch like a kitten. She’d snuggled, licked her lips, and cupped his sex so many times in the night he was about ready to explode. Sure, she’d slept like a baby. He hadn’t slept a wink. He’d made several trips to the creek bank to cool off, but hell no, he didn’t sleep.
A startled yelp filled the tent as her eyes popped open. Horror filled her wide gaze as she realized he lay there beside her. Nearly on top of her. Wild color swept up her face.
“What are you doing here?” she screamed. “Get out. Get out, now!”
“It’s my tent, Lacey.”
She tugged the top of the sleeping bag across her breasts.
“I haven’t touched you, little cat, which is more than I can say for you.” He pushed free of the sleeping bag and stormed out of the tent. Damn, did the hellion have to act as if he’d molested her?
Lacey followed him through the opening of the tent, was in fact, right on his heels.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she spewed. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were bare-ass naked, grilled, and offered up on a serving platter with an apple crammed in your mouth!”
Pouring a cup of coffee from the metal pot, he glanced around at her. “Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Uh-huh. Well, let me tell you, little cat, you couldn’t keep your hands off me. You had your hot little paws on my—well, they were on my—on my—”
“Ha. You can’t even remember where my hands were.”
“I remember.”
He trailed his gaze over her. His thin, white T-shirt clung to her breasts. She wore nothing else. Dear God, he knew that. Yes, he did. But did she?
He swallowed hard. “Jesus H. Christ, woman, put on some damn clothes. You can’t walk around nearly naked in a shirt so thin the morning sun shines right through it—and—and expect no response from me. I’m not a machine.”
“And just whose fault is it I’m dressed like this?”
“I would have to say it’s your fault, Miss Weston.”
Lacey huffed, whipped around and marched stiff-backed inside the tent.
Danger grinned, when he heard the rasp of the zipper sealing her inside. He glanced down at the knife lying near his foot and shook his head. He could cut the tent and get in if he wanted. He took a deep sip of his coffee.
He wasn’t quite ready to die.
In The Arms Of Danger
Chapter Fifteen
“It ain’t no sin if you crack a few laws now and then. As long as you don’t break any.”
Mae West
Montana Backcountry Sun.7:00 a.m.
Lacey glared at Danger as he tossed her what used to be her jeans. He’d cut them off with his knife leaving the edges so badly frayed it looked as if they’d been attacked by a swarm of hungry locusts. A clean shirt swatted her lightly on the side of her head.
The lethal glare she flashed him was totally wasted.
Worse, she had to request his help with her hair.
He edged as cautiously toward Lacey as if he approached a grizzly. She
wanted desperately to throw his hair brush at him, but her arms remained weak and badly bruised at her sides. She had no choice but to let him braid it for her.
Danger twisted the thick strands of Lacey’s hair into a braid with hands that weren’t quite steady. When he finished the task, he cleared his throat and stepped away from her as quickly as possible.
Lacey’s eyes flashed as she tested the strength of the piece of leather Danger handed to her. “Next thing, you’ll be painting my face with war paint.”
“I’d want to paint more than your face,” he mumbled.
Lacey jerked her gaze toward him. “What did you say?”
She hadn’t understood him, because he hadn’t spoken English.
“Nothing.”
She wrapped the leather binding around the end of the braid, twisted it into the strands of her hair and eyed him with suspicion. “Was that your native tongue?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What is it?”
“Pygmy.”
“What?”
“Never mind. We have to make tracks.”
Not so much as a ‘thank you’ had crossed her lips after he finished brushing her hair and braiding it. The little hot-house blossom irritated the hell out of him. No wonder Papa Joe detested Anglos. He began to understand why.
Danger glared at her with disgust. Heaven forbid she be grateful for anything he did for her. Little witch.
He handed her breakfast, a breakfast he’d cooked. She tilted her chin. “You plan on tracking down the killer?”
Her lips pursed, and she blew at the steaming cup of coffee she held between her palms. She watched him like an eagle. Her gold eyes glittered like topaz, full of wariness and faintly accusing.
Desperation clawed at Danger. By God, he had no reason to feel so damned defensive. All he’d done was take care of her. She was the one who’d been all over him; rubbing her body against his like she was some kind of cat in heat. The way she looked down her nose at him, damned if he didn’t feel like her royal subject.
A peon was more like it.
Well, he wasn’t her peon, and he’d let her know it in no uncertain terms. “Is your name really Danger?”
“I thought we’d settled that.”
“No.”
“Why do you want to know?”
She smiled sweetly, causing his breath to catch painfully. It sent an ache straight to his heart, even though the smile was patently false, and he knew, he just knew she was going to let him have it with both barrels.
She tossed her head like a high-strung filly. “I like to know the true name of a man when I sleep with him.”
That did it! Sleep with him? Hell’s bells.
He noted the furious, righteous glitter in those gold eyes and impotent rage filled him. She was still pissed because he’d slept beside her.
An invisible little demon suddenly attached itself to his shoulders, one that urged his husky reply. “Honey, you haven’t slept with me—yet. When you do, little cat, I assure you, my name, or lack of one, will be the last thing on your mind.”
“When I sleep with you?” Lacey’s eyes widened at his sensual threat. Her fingers curled into tight fists. “Don’t hold your breath, Sheriff.”
A red flush crept across Danger’s dark face. “I’m making you a promise, little cat. You will sleep with me, sugar. And you won’t be sleeping, I promise you that.”
“The hell I will.”
“You will. You know why?”
“Why?”
“You’re curious. You want to know if a red man does it as good as a white man. And, you find me irresistible.”
She snorted. “In your dreams.”
“You’re making me nuts. You know tha
t?”
“Why, because I won’t sleep with you? Where on Earth did you get the notion I’m curious if you perform better than a white man?” She laughed.
“What’s so damn funny?” He glared at her, a frosty snap in his eyes.
“You. You just put on four shirts.”
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