The Cowboy's Gift-Wrapped Bride

She had more important things to deal with and she didn’t need the complication of trying to start up a relationship on top of everything else.

But one thing was different—and better—today, she told herself as she opened her eyes and moved away from the window. She might be as attracted to Matt McDermot but she didn’t have to be as vulnerable. She was more capable of resisting his allure now that her strength was back.

And resist it she would.

So, telling herself with conviction that it absolutely didn’t matter where he was, she made her bed, dragged her suitcase into the closet where it was out of the way, and tidied the room so completely there wasn’t a sign that she was in residence. Except for the teacup from the previous evening still on her bed table and she took that with her when she finally poked her nose out the bedroom door, intent on meeting head-on whatever or whoever was beyond it.

But whoever was beyond it was Matt, sitting on the hallway floor just outside her room, reading a newspaper.

“Mornin’,” he said, looking up at her from his lower perch.

“Hi,” Jenn returned, trying to keep the instant rise in her spirits from carrying her away and reminding herself that she was not—absolutely not—going to let her attraction to him have its way with her.

But that was easier said than done when she watched him push himself up the wall with the pure force of big cowboy-booted feet and thick-muscled legs that strained the denim of age-softened jeans until he was once more towering over her in magnificent masculinity.

“How’s the patient today?” he asked, genuine concern wrinkling his squarish forehead above penetrating green eyes that seemed to take in every inch of her.

“I’m much better,” she said a bit breathlessly, working to regain her equilibrium. “I’d say I was almost back to normal except that I still don’t know what normal is.”

“No return of the memory, huh?”

“Unfortunately not. I did have a dream that I was a very old woman, though, if that means anything.”

“Probably your brain’s perception of all those aches and pains you went to bed with last night.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Jenn admitted, pleased with the interpretation and thinking that it made more sense than anything she’d come up with. It didn’t explain why the dream had disturbed her, but then maybe feeling disturbed was just part and parcel of the present circumstances.

“How ’bout some breakfast? Are you hungry?” Matt asked then, interrupting her thoughts.

When Jenn focused on him again it was to find him making sure the tails of his heavy wool shirt were tucked in in back and then bending over to retrieve the newspaper from the floor.

The red shirt was worn over a white Henley T-shirt that peeked from behind his open collar and below the cuffs of his sleeves rolled to midforearm. It made Jenn think of lumberjacks. The look suited the big man, though.

But then she couldn’t come up with anything that wouldn’t suit Matt. He was just so terrifically good-looking and well-built…

Breakfast. He’d asked if she wanted to eat, she reminded herself somewhat belatedly.

“I’m not all that hungry,” she finally answered. “Maybe just a cup of tea.” She held up her mug. “Besides, I was such a slugabed it’s not long to lunchtime. No sense making a special mess for me, I’ll just wait until then to eat.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said so easily she believed him.

“Tea will be fine. Thanks anyway.”

Matt nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s make tea, then.”

They went down the hall together and as they did, Jenn said, “The place is quiet. Is everybody gone?”

“The ladies got brave and thought they’d see if they could make it into town. My brothers are workin’ out in the barn. Junebug—she runs things around the house—didn’t make it in because of the snow, and Buzz is glued to the tube for The Price Is Right about now. So you’re stuck with just me.”

“Stuck” with him was not how she felt. She was glad to be alone with him, much as she knew she shouldn’t be. But she wasn’t going to say that.

Once they were in the kitchen, Matt took the cup out of her hand and pointed to the breakfast nook with his slightly but sexily dimpled chin.

“Sit while I make your tea,” he ordered.

“I can do it. I’m really okay today. Well, except for the screws that are loose in my head.” Loose screws that had her thinking more about him than about what she should be thinking about.

“Nope. You’re a guest here and guests don’t make their own tea,” he decreed.

Since there didn’t seem to be a point in arguing, Jenn opted for changing the subject. “Has there been any word from the sheriff or the radio station about me?”

Matt put a fresh cup filled with water into the microwave and turned it on.

“The phone lines were apparently fixed during the night because they’re up and running again. I called the sheriff’s office an hour or so ago. He said there’s still been no response from the general public. He contacted the Cheyenne and Denver police early this morning, but you don’t fit the description or the names in any of the missing persons cases.”

Jenn just nodded, knowing it was probably par for the course for other police departments to be contacted by Elk Creek’s sheriff but feeling uneasy with the thought of it anyway.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.