The Texan (15 page)

She hissed in a breath as the wet cloth hit her abraded flesh. “Oh, God.”

Before she could focus on that pain, he was lifting the cloth off her cheek.

“I need to wet this down again.”

He repeated the process over the next half hour, laying cloths on her wounds to soak them clean, then replacing them with more cloths. The warm cloths seemed to ease the pain, as well as remove the sand and grit.

“I think that about does it,” Owen said at last.

“Thank you,” Bay said.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

No one had ever made her feel more special, more pampered, more cherished. But all she said was, “Better.” Her stomach growled, and she laughed. “Now I’m hungry.”

“Supper’s coming up,” he said with a smile of truce.

“Could you get my jeans and boots for me?”

“No sense you getting dressed. You can eat in the tent.”

“Are you planning to share this tent with me tonight?” Bay asked.

“Hadn’t figured on sleeping out here on the ground.”

“You will unless I get my jeans and boots.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wry grin.

Bay shook out her boots before bringing them inside the tent, to make sure no snakes or scorpions had taken up residence. It was hard to get her jeans on because her knee was also skinned, and it hurt to bend her hip.

“Need any help?” Owen asked.

“I ought to make you put them on, since you took them off,” she grumbled.

Before she knew it, Owen was on his knees in front of her and had her jeans in his hands. He held them so she could put her legs inside, then slid them up until they reached her hips.

“Lift,” he said.

She braced her good hand on his shoulder and lifted her hips, as he pulled her jeans up around her waist. He started to reach for her zipper, but she put her hand over his. “I can get that.”

They were nose to nose with one another, and she realized he really did have the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. She laid her hand on his bristly cheek, marveling at how much dark beard had grown in the space of
a day. She wanted to thank him for taking such good care of her. But not with words. No sense giving him the chance to hurl them back at her. She leaned forward the inch that separated them and pressed her lips lightly to his.

“What was that for?”

“To thank you for taking care of me.”

He pressed his lips lightly against hers.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“You’re welcome.”

Her stomach growled. Bay was willing to ignore it. She had something much more interesting than dinner to contemplate. Who would have thought a man as hard as Owen Blackthorne would have lips so utterly soft. Or be so gentle. Or caring.

“You can pack tomorrow, to make up for all the work I’m doing tonight,” he said, as he backed away.

Or so obnoxious
, she added mentally. “I’ll be glad to do my share right now.”

He grinned at her. “Like I said, you’re a distraction.”

Owen offered her a selection of
MREs
, better known to the military as a
Meal, Ready-to-Eat
, and Bay chose the chicken noodle soup. Owen warmed it using a sizzle sack. He added a saltwater pouch to the bag of chemicals, put in the packaged
MRE
, and twenty minutes later they had hot chow—without the need for a fire.

Bay sat cross-legged on the ground to eat and worried about all the scorpions and centipedes that might need to cross her path to get from one side of the canyon to the other. “The desert seems a lot more alive after dark,” she said to Owen, trying her best to hide her unease.

“Yeah. It’s amazing how many animals there are out here that you never see till the sun goes down.”

That did absolutely nothing to calm Bay’s nerves. “Like what?” she asked.

“Like—”

Bay heard a flutter of wings, and then something grabbed at her hair. She opened her mouth to scream at the same time she swatted desperately at her hair.

Owen clamped his hand over her mouth before any sound escaped. “Easy, easy,” he said, as she struggled violently against his hold. “It was only a bat.”

Bay cringed at the thought of a
bat
in her
hair
!

“Think you can keep from screaming if I let go of your mouth?”

She nodded vigorously.

He let her go, and she shuddered.

“Oh, God,” she said. “A
bat
was in my
hair!
” She ruffled her hair as though she were trying to free it of feathers.

“Bats are a good thing. They eat a lot of insects,” Owen said.

“Ick,” Bay said, and shuddered again.

Owen slid his arms around her. She pressed close to him, as she tried to still her trembling body. “I feel silly,” she admitted.

He rubbed his hands up and down her back and said, “My sister isn’t afraid of much, but she hates bats, too.”

Bay ducked her head and said, “It’s just that they look like … flying rats.”

She heard Owen chuckle. The husky sound, and the moist warmth of his breath against her temple, made her feel safe. She put her arms around him, which brought her soft breasts into contact with his rock-hard chest.

His arms tightened around her.

Suddenly Bay didn’t feel the least bit safe. In fact, the
emotions she was experiencing felt downright dangerous. “Owen?”

She felt his hesitation before he let go of her and sat back so he could look into her eyes. “Are you okay now?”

She nodded. “I’m fine.” She was a great liar when she needed to be.

“I think maybe it’s time for bed,” he said.

“It’s so early,” Bay protested. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.” Oh, she was tired, all right. But still scared of what might go bump in the night. Exhausted, but aching all over. She was sure there was no comfortable way she could lie down to sleep.

“We’ll be getting up at first light,” he reminded her. “You’d better grab what shut-eye you can.”

It took a bit of maneuvering to get them both inside the tent. It was amazingly cold in the desert once the sun went down, since there was no foliage to hold the heat. They ended up spooned together inside the sleeping bag, with Bay’s uninjured cheek lying on her hand.

Bay tried not to notice the warmth of Owen’s body. Tried not to notice the muscles in his chest and thighs as they pressed against her. Or how much she liked the musky smell of him.

“This is cozy,” Owen murmured.

“This is all your fault,” Bay replied peevishly. If not for him, she’d be safe in her own sleeping bag. Alone. Instead of lying here
loving
how it felt to be snuggled up next to a
Blackthorne
.

“I’ve got no complaints,” Owen said.

“My father would roll over in his grave if he could see me with you like this.” She felt Owen tense and knew she was ruining the budding closeness between them. But she
couldn’t seem to stop herself. “My brother was in that wheelchair at the breakfast table every morning to remind him that a Blackthorne had turned his eldest son into a cripple. And there were no consequences for what you’d done.”

“No consequences,” he muttered. “That’s a laugh.”

Bay turned her head to look at Owen over her shoulder, because there was no way to turn her entire body in the tiny space. “Were you ever punished? I never heard about it, if you were.”

“I got kicked off the football team my senior year.”

Bay snorted. “That’s no punishment.”

“It meant I wasn’t scouted for college football. Which meant my football career ended before it ever started.”

Bay was startled by his revelation. “You wanted to play football professionally?”

“I was big enough and fast enough and strong enough.”

“A Blackthorne playing football for a living? I can’t imagine it.”

“Neither could my father,” Owen said. “Or my brother Clay. But it was my dream. It ended when your brother got hurt.”

“It’s hard for me to feel sorry for you,” Bay said. “You walked away from your mistake. My brother will never walk again.”

“If I could change what happened that day, I would,” Owen said. “I can’t. I tried apologizing to your father, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Have you tried apologizing to Sam?”

She felt Owen move restlessly behind her. At last he said, “I’ve thought about it a lot of times. Once or twice I tried to see him, but he avoided me. Maybe I’ll try again. If you think it would help.”

“Apology or no, Sam will never accept the idea of your dad and my mom getting together,” Bay said. “It’s pretty hard for me to accept it myself, and I’ve seen them kissing. Everything’s been crazy since my dad was murdered.”

“Do you think that might have something to do with why your brother stole those mines?”

Bay stiffened. “I’m positive Luke didn’t take those mines. As positive as you seem to be that your brother didn’t do it. I’m sorry about what happened to your friend.”

“Being sorry isn’t going to help your brother if he was in any way responsible for getting Hank killed.”

“My brother came to the Big Bend for the same reason you and I did. To find the real culprits.”

“Why didn’t he just go to the authorities?” Owen asked.

Bay took a deep breath and said, “Because he knew the authorities would want proof when he accused your brother of stealing those mines.”

“Your brother’s crazy.”

Bay lifted Owen’s arm off her hip and shoved it back onto his own. “I guess we’ll see about that.”

There was no room to shift without bumping against hard male flesh. No room to turn without encountering the smell of a man who’d spent a day in the sun—a scent she found strangely alluring. No room to escape the brush of his soft hair against her temple.

“You’re more restless than two bobcats in a potato sack,” he growled at last. “Come here.”

He cinched a strong arm around her waist and hauled her back against him. Snug enough to feel what a profound male response all her moving around had produced.
She should have felt frightened. Instead, she felt secure, protected by Owen Blackthorne’s embrace.

“Now go to sleep,” he snarled.

Bay would have said that was impossible, but she closed her eyes and started counting roadrunners and soon felt herself drifting off.

She didn’t know what woke her. Had no idea how long she’d been asleep. But she suddenly realized Owen wasn’t in the tent with her. And despite the fact they were supposed to be totally alone, she could hear him talking to someone.

BAY CREPT OUT OF THE TENT AND CRAWLED
cautiously toward Owen, until she could see him in the shadowy grayness between dawn and daylight. “So you did bring secret spy stuff!” she crowed.

Owen swore, as he swiveled on his knee to confront her. “What woke you up?”

“I heard you talking to someone. Who’s on the other end of that satellite line?”

“FBI Special-Agent-in-Charge Paul Ridgeway. I have to contact him at five A.M. every morning to let him know exactly where we are.” He held up a global positioning device.

“Even if we haven’t found anything?”

“It was two days before the Rangers realized Hank was in trouble,” Owen said. “Even with satellite photos, it took them another day to find his body. This way, if anything happens to us, the cavalry knows where to come running.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had all this stuff?” Bay asked.

“It was none of your business,” he said bluntly.

Bay made a disgusted sound in her throat.

“Sounds like you’re in fine voice this morning,” he said wryly. “How are you feeling?”

Bay surveyed the scabs on her hand and arm and tried a nonchalant smile that ended when she realized that the scraped skin on her cheek wouldn’t tolerate the strain. “Everything’s still a little sore, but I’ll be fine.”

“I want to see if we can find your horse before we have breakfast.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

They both went to work, folding up the sleeping bag and tent as though they’d been working together all their lives. Bay managed her ablutions while Owen repacked the satellite phone and the global positioning device. When she rejoined him, he said, “You’d better have a drink of water before we start.”

She took the two-quart canteen, stared into it, then swished it around. “This is nearly empty. Is this all the water we have?”

“I’ve got another full canteen.”

“Thank goodness.” She hadn’t yet quenched her thirst, when she felt Owen taking the canteen away from her.

“Better save some of that till we catch up to your horse.”

“You said he’d be easy to find this morning.”

“Maybe he will. Maybe he won’t.”

Owen stepped into the saddle and reached a hand down as he took his foot out of the stirrup, so Bay could mount behind him. Once she was settled, he said, “Hang on. And don’t be wiggling around. We can’t afford any more accidents.”

Bay glowered at him. She clamped her hands on either side of his waist at his beltline, but his Colt .45 was holstered on one side, which kept her from getting a comfortable hold. She put her right hand above the gun, but that meant it was practically under his armpit. Then she
moved it below the gun, but that put her hand low on his hip, close to his crotch.