KIDNAPPED COWBOY

by Lindsey Brookes

  Her soft laughter surrounded him again. “What century are you living in?”

  Okay, so he’d never really taken the time to ask any of the women he’d been with that particular question. He tried again. “So you’re one of those career driven women?”

  She scoffed. “Hardly. My dream is much simpler than that. Besides running the retreat, I hope to someday have a place of my own, no fences required, and…” Her voice trailed off.

  “And?” he prompted, his curiosity peaked.

  She shook her head. “You’ll think it’s silly.”

  “I doubt that,” he answered honestly. When she hesitated, he added, “I promise not to laugh. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers.

  “You were a Boy Scout?”

  His grin widened. “Well, no, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help an old lady across the street if she needed it.”

  This time they both laughed.

  “Okay,” she said, looking up at him, “I wanna take in a couple of alley cats.”

  There was no urge to laugh, only the need to understand. “Why alley cats?”

  “Because when I was living on the streets as a runaway, it was those mangy, half-starved creatures that kept me company through the long, lonely nights. I wanna give them a place to live where they don’t have to fight over scraps of rotten food to survive.”

  His heart went out to the little girl she’d once been. Dalton reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to live that way.” How could he have ever thought the life he had was bad?

  There were no tears, just a warm smile. “It made me who I am today and for that I’m grateful. You know the old saying, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

  He stared at her in amazement. “Are you always this optimistic?”

  “Hopelessly.”

  She was amazing. More than amazing. “Not at all what I would have expected to hear from a kidnapper.”

  “Borrower,” she corrected playfully.

  He forced himself to release her hand. “We need to talk about what I did at the retreat today.” He finished off the rest of his wine and then reached for the remaining piece of pizza on his plate.

  “You mean fixing the window?” she said as she nibbled at her half-eaten slice.

  “That among other things.”

  She paused, swallowed hard, and then reached for her wine. “Other things?”

  “Is my brother aware of all the repairs that need done out there?”

  She averted her gaze as she ran the tip of a finger around the rim of her glass. “Not exactly.”

  “Why not?”

  She raised her chin slowly, her troubled green eyes meeting his questioning ones. “Your brother had already sent me a letter regarding his intention to shut down the retreat. If he knew the extent of the repairs that needed to be done, there would’ve been no convincing him to change his mind and leave it open.”

  “Well, Brandon’s not responsible for the upkeep of Stoney Brook now, I am.” He shoved the last bite of his pizza into his mouth and got to his feet. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He reached for her hand. “Shopping.”

  She set her glass on the table and took the hand he offered. “And you think I’m crazy?”

  “We’ve got a lotta work to do before the kids arrive.” He led her toward the door.

  “But what about the rest of the pizza?”

  “Tastes even better cold.”

  *

  Caitlin shook her head in disbelief as she eyed the packages and paint cans piled up in the bed of one of the Barnes’ work trucks. “Your brother is gonna have a fit when he gets the bill for all of this.”

  Dalton didn’t appear the least bit concerned. He merely smiled and said, “I’m only doing what he told me to. If Brandon has to dig into his pockets to get it done, so be it.”

  She rolled her eyes. What had she let him talk her into? They had spent more money in just a few hours than she made in an entire month.

  “Maybe we should take some of this back. The picnic tables are fine.”

  He shook his head. “They’re weathered and peeling. Who wants to eat off of that? Stop worrying about the money. None of us can take it with us, so we might as well spend it.”

  “But your brother——”

  “I’ll deal with Brandon,” he cut in as he reached into the back of the truck and hefted out several gallons of paint. “Grab the brushes, will you?” Turning, he headed off toward the retreat’s supply shed.

  Too short to reach them over the sides of the monstrous pick up, she hurried around and climbed up onto the open tailgate. After gathering as many bags as she could carry, she slid off to the ground and followed Dalton. This was still the most fun un-date she’d ever had.

  “I’ll get those,” he said, reaching out to rid her of the cumbersome bags.

  Her pulse quickened, her thoughts centered on the large, male fingers that had just brushed over hers. Her gaze shifted from his hands to the hard, angular planes of his tanned face. No wonder women went crazy over Dalton Barnes.

  “Caitlin…”

  His husky voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Y…yes?”

  “You have to let go for me to take them from you.” Grinning, he nodded at the bags still clutched in her hands.

  “Oh,” she gasped then turned the packages over to Dalton with an embarrassed giggle. “Of course.”

  He turned away as he unloaded them, placing their purchases on the shelves beside the assorted paint cans. “I wanna start the repairs on the cafeteria roof tomorrow morning, and then I’ll see to the picnic tables.”

  “It’s my day off. I can help you.”

  He turned to Caitlin with a smile. She was no bigger than a sprite, yet somehow he knew she would work harder and accomplish more than most of the men he knew.

  “I might just take you up on that offer.”

  Smiling up at him, she replied, “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Kiss her.

  Better not.

  She wants you to.

  His thoughts battled with reason. And it didn’t help that they were standing just inches apart in a dimly lit shed. That alone was pure torture.

  “Come on.” He caught her by the arm and led her outside in a rush for fresh air and what he hoped would be the return of his sanity. “It’s getting late. I need to get you home.”

  “Was it something I said?” she asked as he led her out of the stuffy shed and into the much cooler evening air.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, slowing his step only when they neared the truck.

  She whipped around to face him. “This sudden rush to get me home. What’s wrong, Dalton? Forget about a hot date you had scheduled with one of your big-boobed, buckle bunnies? By all means, don’t let me hold you up.” She turned, reaching for the door handle.

  “Caitlin…” He caught her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

  Her expression was one of regret. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. What you do in your personal life is none of my business.”

  He stepped forward and planted his hands, palms flattened, on the truck beside her. “Except when it involves kissing you.”

  Her green eyes rounded as she looked up at him. “Me?”

  He nodded. “Yes, something I’ve wanted to do since I first laid eyes on you this morning.” That said, he gave in to the need and lowered his mouth to hers.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Caitlin awoke with a tired groan. It had been a long, restless night. Proof of that was in the state of her covers. Only the sheet remained on the bed, hanging haphazardly off one side of the mattress. The comforter was nowhere to be seen. Her guess would be it was lying in a heap at the foot of the bed.

  Rolling onto her back, she watched the slow, hypnotic spin of the ceiling fan above her. Who needed dreams when memories could provoke such powerful physical responses? Dalton’s kiss had sent her to bed hot
and here she was waking up in that very same condition.

  No, wait, hot didn’t even begin to describe her body’s response to Dalton’s quite thorough and totally unexpected kiss the day before. Her lower half was definitely a candidate for one of those CAUTION: HIGHLY FLAMMABLE bumper stickers.

  Pity the Olympics didn’t have an event for kissing. Dalton would sweep the gold.

  She got up on her knees and tugged several times on the brass pull hanging above her until the fan was turning at high speed. Then she stretched back out across the bed. It was hard to believe that just a few weeks before she and Dalton had been stranded together, complete strangers, in a late spring snowstorm. But now the heat of early summer had arrived, adding to her Dalton-induced discomfort.

  She could only imagine where she and Dalton might have ended up the day before if his cell phone hadn’t gone off right in the middle of their who-needs-oxygen-to-live lip lock. And something told her it wouldn’t have been in an upright position.

  “Okay, Miss Myers,” she scolded herself, “it’s time to refocus.”

  Her thoughts had a tendency to drift far too easily whenever Dalton Barnes was around. And thanks to his brother, the Ogre of Lone Tree, Dalton was going to be around her a lot for the next several months.

  She glanced at the clock on the nightstand, wondering if Dalton was already out at Stoney Brook working. He seemed like an early-to-rise kind of guy. That particular thought had her blushing as her mindset drifted off once more in a sexual direction.

  This was so unlike her. Time for a little self-relaxation and focus therapy. She closed her eyes. The key was to concentrate solely on the retreat and not on Dalton’s broad, sexy shoulders and firm lips, those undress-you-with-a-look eyes, and that finer than Ghirardelli chocolate backside.

  “Back to work!” The deep, husky voice drifted through the tiny apartment.

  Caitlin shot upright with a gasp, her eyes flying open. She was so sex-starved she was imagining his voice. How pathetic was that?

  But the chime of the doorbell proved otherwise. This was no lack-of-sex induced fantasy. Dalton was at her door!

  She flew out of bed and grabbed for her robe, hurrying to slip it on. Tying the sash, she scurried out of the room and down the narrow hallway toward the door.

  The hall light flickered overhead like a disco-tech strobe light. “What in the…”

  There, protruding between the open, but still chained door, and the door’s frame, was a large, unarguably male hand. Dalton’s hand.

  “Up and at’em, Sleeping Beauty,” he called out from the other side of the door while his hand continued to flip the light switch off and on.

  She stepped forward and gave his hand a firm smack, grinning as it disappeared back through the crack in the door. Dalton’s muffled yelp had her smile widening even further.

  She peeked through the crack to find him smiling at her. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “Time to work.” He rubbed his hand, giving a pathetically fake groan. “That hurt, by the way.”

  She leaned against the doorframe. “Good. That’ll teach you to come into people’s apartments when you weren’t invited.”

  He grinned guiltily, peering back at her through the crack in the door. “I wasn’t in. Just my arm was. So are you gonna let me inside, or not?”

  She released an exaggerated sigh, pretending to think it over, while inside she wanted to fling the door open and drag him inside. “I suppose.” She pushed the door shut and released the chain, then opened it to let Dalton in. “Can’t have you waking the neighborhood. Why are you here?”

  He flashed that incredibly sexy grin of his, turning her knees to jelly. “I’m picking you up.”

  “No, you’re waking me up. Big difference.” Okay, so she hadn’t exactly been sleeping when he arrived, but even that was his fault.

  That oozing-with-charm smile remained intact. “Thought you’d wanna get an early start today. It’s supposed to get pretty toasty by mid-afternoon.” His gaze slid down the front of her. “Nice jammies.”

  “They’re comfortable,” she said in their defense as she tightened the sash on her terry robe.

  “Sorry,” he said with a husky chuckle. “It just that I never imagined finding you in Mickey Mouse pajamas.” His dark brows wriggled playfully. “Sexy.”

  “Funny, Dalton. Look, I know this may come as a surprise to you, but I didn’t dress for bed last night with the intention of impressing you this morning.”

  “Pity,” he muttered under his breath, making her smile.

  Pitiful was more like it. She shifted uneasily. Why couldn’t he have caught her wearing something sexier? Hah! As if she owned anything even remotely sexy. Seduction was definitely not her forte. Her plain Jane wardrobe was proof of that.

  “What’s wrong with Mickey anyway?”

  “He’s a mouse.”

  “A very popular mouse. Just ask the hundreds of thousands of people who flock to see him each year.” It suddenly dawned on her that she was standing there defending a cartoon mouse. What this man didn’t drive her to do.

  He stepped past her into the hallway and then turned to face her, his grin still intact. “If you’re into overgrown mice in ugly shoes.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Okay, so his shoes are ugly. It’s what’s in the heart that counts.”

  “True.” The teasing glint remained in his eyes. “So other than having a place of your own where you can listen to the pitter-patter of dozens of furry little feet, what else does your heart desire?”

  She knew that he was referring to her wanting to give refuge to homeless alley cats, but for a moment she had actually envisioned that pitter-pattering coming from children.

  Hers.

  Hah! With her social life, the Pope had better odds of having children. She hesitated. Telling him about her dreams made Caitlin feel vulnerable. So instead of delving into her deep-rooted desire to be loved, she replied laughingly, “I can tell you what my dream was not, and that was to be caught in my Mickeys by a sexy…er, shameless cowboy.”

  He straightened, his grin widening. “Sexy, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.” Walking past him, she started for the kitchen. “I need coffee.”

  “It’s okay, Caitlin,” he called after her as he followed behind. “I think you’re sexy, too.”

  Her heart skittered wildly. It took a long moment for her to collect herself enough to reply, “Save your smooth-talking for the females who will actually believe it.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Her sexy? Yeah, right. “As serious as a skirt-chasing man can be, I suppose.” Grabbing the coffee canister from the cupboard, she dumped several heaping spoonfuls into the wire basket of the coffee maker.

  He sauntered into the kitchen. “If this is about my kissing you… I’m sorry.”

  She paused in the midst of what she was doing to turn to him. “You’re sorry?”

  “Not about the kiss,” he explained. “Hell, I liked it. It was the timing I was referring to.”

  So he didn’t regret their kiss? Relief swept through her. She smiled up at him, deciding to have some fun with Dalton. “Too long or too short?”

  “What?”

  “Your timing. Because your kiss seemed perfectly acceptable to me, as far as kisses go.”

  “Acceptable?” He muttered something she couldn’t quite make out and Caitlin fought the urge to giggle.

  “Okay, I’ll admit it was more than acceptable.” Turning back to the counter, she smiled and turned the coffee maker on. “Guess that old saying is true.”

  “What saying is that?” he asked, moving closer.

  “That practice makes perfect.” She glanced up at him over her shoulder. “I suppose you can thank all your Buckle Bunnies for that.”

  “There weren’t that many,” he countered with a frown. Then a dark brow lifted. “You’re jealous.”

  “Hah! You have to like someone to be jealous.” />
  “I see.”

  She grabbed a box of Pop Tarts from the cupboard and pulled one from an already opened pouch. “Don’t get me wrong,” she told him, taking a bite. “I like you, Dalton. You’re a great guy. But I don’t have time for anything more than that.”

  She’s right, Dalton thought. So whatever you do don’t give in to the urge to kiss that speck of cherry filling from her lip. He shifted uncomfortably, thankful for the restraint the heavy denim of his fly provided.

  Never in a million years could he have imagined himself turned on by a woman in a cartoon mouse nightshirt, nibbling on a frosted Pop Tart. But, damn it, he was!

  He tried to focus on the pastry in her hand, instead of the sugary morsel clinging to her lip. “I was only teasing you.”

  Actually, she was the one doing the teasing. Only he was certain she wasn’t even aware of it.

  Come on, Caitlin, lick that damn speck of filling off and put me out of my misery.

  As if reading his mind, she ran her tongue across her lower lip, removing the source of his distraction. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Getting back to the timing thing, I was referring to the retreat. There’s a lot that needs done before the kids arrive.”

  She nodded, taking another bite. “Exactly. So what happened yesterday can’t happen again. Right?”

  There was just enough hesitation in her voice to make him wonder exactly how he was supposed to answer that. Was this one of those female trap-the-man questions? Like ‘Honey, which dress makes me look fatter?’ The kind where there really wasn’t any right answer.

  She looked up at him expectantly. “Dalton?”

  “I think you’re right.” That should do it. He’d given her an answer that really wasn’t an answer, something men had practiced doing since the beginning of time.

  The coffee pot gurgled behind her, filling the kitchen with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Suppressing a triumphant grin, he stepped around her and helped himself to a cup of coffee.

  “Well,” she moved to pour herself a cup, “now that we’ve got that settled, I’d better go get some clothes on.” Coffee in hand, she walked away, leaving him standing alone in the kitchen.