KIDNAPPED COWBOY (16 page)

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.

Layers of them if you know what’s good for you
, he thought as he watched her go.  The more clothes the better.  Because she was too damn tempting and he sure as hell didn’t intend to stick around Lone Tree once summer ended.  And a woman like Caitlin deserved a stick-around-kind-of-man.

*              *              *

Caitlin looked down at the streak of barn red paint on her thigh, then back up at Dalton who was working on the roof of the Stoney Brook’s cafeteria in a pair of show’em what you got jeans.  And boy did he
have
.

And no shirt.  This was at least the third time his half-naked, hunky state had distracted her from her painting.  At this rate, she was going to end up with more stripes on her than the American flag. 

Setting her brush down, she reached for her near empty water bottle, bringing it to her lips.  She tried not to stare at the sun glinting off Dalton’s broad back as he moved, or the muscles rippling in those powerful shoulders and arms as he lowered a sheet of plywood to the sagging roof.

He glanced over his shoulder, smiling at her from beneath the low riding brim of his cowboy hat.  The simple gesture set her heart to racing.

Kneeling on the sheet of wood, he raised his hat and dragged a forearm across his sweat-dampened brow.  “The Weather Channel forgot to mention the morning was gonna be a scorcher, too.”

“It’s a good thing we got an early start.”

“You can say that again.”

She got to her feet and walked over to the ladder, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him.  “Can I get you another bottle of water?”

He shifted to peer down at her from the roof’s edge.  “That’d be great.  Thanks.”

She walked over to the wheeled cooler they’d brought with them that morning and grabbed two chilled bottles of spring water from the mountain of ice inside. 

Setting her bottle down on the ground by the freshly painted picnic table, she walked back to the ladder that was propped against the side of the cabin. 

“More work than you thought it would be?” she asked as she started up the ladder’s rungs.

He looked down at her.  “What?  Keeping from kissing you?”

She missed a step and found herself being rescued by Dalton once again.

“Careful there.”  He steadied the ladder with one hand, holding onto her with the other.  “You okay?”

Her gaze moved from the fingers curled about her wrist, up the sun-bronzed arm, finally coming to rest on Dalton’s worried face.  She managed a nod.  “My foot slipped.”

“Remind me to buy a new ladder, one with wider rungs.  This old thing’s about had it anyway.”

“We are not buying a new ladder,” she told him.  “This one is just fine.  Your brother’s not gonna be happy as it is with us putting in those new windows.”

Dalton shrugged.  “He’ll get over it.  Besides, we’re upping the property value.”

She held out his bottle of water, one she had somehow managed to hang onto during her near fall.  “Here you go.”

He slowly released his grasp on her wrist and sat back, patting the roof beside him.  “Come on up.  Take a break.”

She pointed to the picnic table below.  “My water’s down there.”

“That’s okay.  I’ll share mine.”  Smiling, he unscrewed the lid and brought the bottle to his lips. 

“I don’t think...  I mean I really need to finish painting that table.”

“You know, Caitlin, things might go a little faster if you actually
painted
the table.”

She looked down at the brush streaks across her shorts and upper thighs.  Blushing, she lifted her gaze to his.  “I’m a psychologist, not a professional painter.”

He laughed.  “I’d say you chose the right occupation.  Come on.  I’ll help you up.”  He held out his hand.

She wasn’t overly fond of heights, but she took the offered hand anyway, feeling completely safe as he helped her up onto the roof beside him. 

“Just don’t look down,” she muttered to herself.

“Pardon?”

“Uh, I said I can almost see town.”

“You can?”  His gaze shifted that direction.  “Well, you’ve got a hell of a lot better vision than I do.”  He held out his bottle of water.  “Or, you’re dehydrated and hallucinating.  Drink?”

She took it, looking down at the spout which had just moments before touched Dalton’s lips.  And was about to touch hers.  It was almost like sharing a kiss.  That is, in a roundabout sort of way. 

             
Oh, can you be any more pathetic?
  She gave herself a mental head slap. 
He’s offering you a drink of water, not a trip to his bed. 
Freud would have had a field day with her completely irrepressible thoughts.

“Thanks.”  She brought it to her lips.  Maybe Dalton was right.  She’d been in the hot sun far too long.

Out of the blue, Dalton reached out to caress her cheek.

She jumped at the unexpected touch, the mouthful of water she’d just taken going down the wrong pipe.  Choking, she said, “Dalton, I don’t think—”

“Paint.” 

“W...what?”

“You have paint on your face.  I was just trying to wipe it off before it dried.”

“Oh.”  Darn it, did she have to sound so disappointed?  So he hadn’t exactly been trying to put the moves on her.  His touch was enough to jump-start her heart and then some.

There was a glint of humor in his eyes as he watched her from beneath the low-riding brim of his hat.  “What do you say we go for a swim?”

“A swim?”

“Sure,” he nodded.  “It’ll help cool us off.”

She fixed her gaze on Dalton because looking down made her lightheaded.  Who was she kidding?  Looking at him made her lightheaded.

She shook her head.  “I didn’t bring my suit.”

He shrugged, drawing her attention to his bare, broad shoulders.  “You don’t need one.”

She practically shot to her feet.  “Okay, breaktime’s over.”

If he hadn’t of reacted so quickly, grabbing her hand, she might have fallen right off the roof.  “You’re just an accident waiting to happen, aren’t you?” he said with a low chuckle.

She plopped back down onto the sun-warmed shingles and looked determinedly up at the sky, a far better choice than looking down.  “I’m afraid I’m not very good with heights.  Or skinny dipping.”

“Who said anything about skinny dipping?”

Her gaze snapped down to his.  “You—”

“I said we didn’t need swimsuits.  I meant we could swim in our skivvies.”

“In our underwear?”

“Sure.  It’s not much different than wearing a swimsuit.  And it’s hot enough out that they should dry pretty quickly once we’re done swimming.  But, then again, if you’d prefer to go in naked...”

“In your dreams, cowboy.” 
Or was that in hers?

Laughter rumbled in his chest.  “Didn’t reckon so.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Face it, Caitlin, you just don’t come across as the skinny dipping type.”

His words were playful, but there was an underlying challenge to them that couldn’t be missed.  “For your information, Dalton Barnes, I can skinny dip with the best of them.”

He folded his arms across his chest.  “That so?”

She thrust her chin upward.  “Yes.”

“Have you ever?”

She hesitated for a moment and then shook her head in resignation.  “No.”

The cocky grin returned.  “See, I rest my case.  Now let’s get you off this roof before we have to make another run into town to the doctors.”

“Good idea.  I haven’t finished paying off the bill for my ankle yet.”

His expression grew serious.  “Are you telling me you don’t have insurance?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too expensive.”

“That should come with the job,” he growled.

“Not all jobs.  And certainly not mine.”

“Have you spoken to Brandon about it?”

She shook her head.  “No, my dealings have always been with Alan Martinson.  I asked him about it, but he told me Brandon made it clear he was not putting any more money into the running of the retreat than he already had.” 

“I have to say that I’m surprised by my brother’s attitude, despite our differences.  Maybe people are right about him being an ogre.”

“I don’t mind.  Really.  I’m one of those fortunate souls who are rarely sick.”

“Just injured?” he teased.

“So I’ve been a little accident prone lately.”  Ever since
he
had come into her life.

“Well, you work for me now.  And as soon as I can take care of it, you’ll have insurance coverage.”

“Dalton, you don’t have to—” 

“And a raise.”  He stood and started down the ladder.  He stopped partway and held out his hand to her.  “Come on.  I’ll help you down.”

Dalton Barnes was almost too good to be true.  Not at all what she’d imagined a big rodeo star to be like.  He was funny and kind, and put a hundred and ten percent into everything he did. 

Easing onto the ladder, she started down with his help.  “Something tells me your brother isn’t gonna be too thrilled about that.”

“Is he ever thrilled about anything?”  He didn’t let go until she was safely on the ground below.  “Let me worry about my brother.”   

Fearless.  He was definitely fearless to even consider taking on the Ogre.  She took a deep breath, gathered up her nerve, then turned to Dalton.  “I’ll do it if you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Skinny dip.”

His dark eyes widened.  “This is a joke, right?”

“Nope.  But you have to close your eyes and you can’t open them until I’m safely in the water.”