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beautiful. "You're back," she murmured, then pulled in a sharp breath of
surprise when she tilt the wetness of the towel touch her stomach. "What's
that?"
"A towel." He wiped the stickiness of virginal blood and sex from between her
legs. He saw the faint wince and guessed, "Sore?"
"A little."
He gave the towel a toss in the direction of the bathroom. For the time being,
he satisfied himself with tucking strands of silky black hair behind her ear.
"Are you sorry?"
With her fingers, she traced the lean muscle that ran from his chest to his
shoulder. "No."
But he had noticed the slight pause between his question and her answer-and
the avoidance of his gaze. He wasn't surprised. Like her, he knew there would
come a time when they would both regret tonight, but for different reasons.
Reaching past her, he switched off the lamp on the bedside table, then
gathered her to him. In the shadows and darkness, he made love to her again.
Cat rolled over and slung a leg out. The ache of a dozen muscles registered a
sharp and instant protest to the movement, pricking her awake. Sleepily she
opened her eyes. Nothing looked familiar. For a disoriented moment, she
couldn't remember where she was. Then it all came back to her-the last night
on the town with her friends, the margaritas she had drunk, the silly manhunt
game they played for laughs, and the man she had found, the strength of his
arms, the headiness of his kisses, and...
Her eyes snapped open. She remembered it all, every lusty, guilty minute of
it.
Wide awake, she sat up. The sudden movement touched off an immediate pounding
in her head. She pressed a hand to it. It was the tequila; it always gave her
a wretched headache the morning after. For a brief moment, Cat tried to
convince herself that she had been too drunk last night to know what she was
doing. But she knew better. The alcohol may have clouded her judgment, but it
hadn't directed her actions. He hadn't done one single thing that she hadn't
wanted him to do. Not one single thing.
There was a stir of movement beside her. Cat froze, every muscle tensing,
every nerve end tingling. She stole a wary glance at the man lying next to
her. The sheet was down around his hips, baring his torso. She watched his
chest rise and fall in a slow, steady rhythm, silent confirmation that he
hadn't wakened.
Even in sleep, there was little softness in his face. Every line of his
triangular jaw was strongly chiseled, from the high ridge of his cheekbone to
the thrust of his chin. Only the thick black lashes and the wayward lock of
black hair that strayed onto his forehead gave hints of the boy he had once
been.
Cat jerked her gaze from him, furious with herself for even thinking about him
as a boy. He was a stranger. A total stranger.
And she was determined to keep it that way. She wanted to know nothing else
about him.
And he knew nothing about her-not her name, not where she lived, nothing. Cat
drew immediate comfort from that. She had gotten herself into this mess; now
she had to get herself out of it, with as few scars as possible.
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Impulse pushed her off the bed, the same rash impulse that had caused her to
seek him out. With a stealth acquired from all the times she had snuck out as
a teenager to meet Repp, she
searched out her clothes in the dark, stuffed her socks and underclothes in
her boots, dragged on her jeans, and slipped into her blouse, hastily
buttoning it.
Carrying her boots, she crossed to the door, carefully turned the knob and
opened the door just wide enough to step through, then closed it just as
quietly. She never saw the gray eyes that opened to watch her. The hallway was
empty and silent. Cat hurried to the staircase and paused long enough to hook
her fingers through the bootstraps and adopt a confident stance, then started
down the stairs, swinging her boots with forced nonchalance.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw she had no audience. There
was no one in the lobby or at the registration counter. In a half dozen
strides, Cat was out the door and hurrying across the bricked street to her
Blazer. She dug the keys out of her jeans pocket, unlocked the driver's door
and scrambled behind the wheel. She didn't draw an easy breath until she was
on the interstate headed north.
On the outskirts of Fort Worth, Cat stopped at the first motel she found,
checked into a room and took a long, hot shower. But no amount of soap and
water could wash away the guilt she felt. To conceal it, Cat lifted her head
higher and climbed back in the Blazer.
Fifteen hundred miles and two days of hard driving later, she turned off the
highway and drove through the east gate onto Calder land. Tears welled in her
eyes at the sight of the vast, rolling prairie. She pulled to the side of the
road and stepped out to gaze at the leagues of endless, bending grass. The
wind carried the scent of sun-baked earth, summer-cured grass, and the
wildness of the land to her. She drank in a deep breath, filling her lungs
with the familiar smells.
She was home. Texas was far behind her-Texas and the memory of a night she was
determined to forget. She had made a mistake, but it was mistake she would
never repeat. It was a vow Cat swore to herself, and to Repp's memory.
The unwanted image of level gray eyes flashed in her mind.
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