Killer Cowboy Charm. Vicki Thompson Lewis

her surprise, he turned red and cleared his throat. “I meant I’d give you my room and I’d take this one. Mine has an attached bathroom.”

      How adorable. He was blushing. This gig might turn out to be more fun than she’d thought back when she and Jamie had first headed down the dusty road to Nowheresville. At least the natives were extremely cute and un-spoiled.

      Now that she thought about it, the ultra-sophisticated types she’d met in New York didn’t appeal to her all that much. This guy definitely did. Nothing could come of a fling with him, if she dared chance one, but he was the first man to flip her switches in some time. Then again, she’d been too busy for switch-flipping. And she was too busy now. But this attraction reminded her that she missed sex…a lot.

      “I wouldn’t dream of putting you out of your room,” she said. “This room will be just fine.” Or sort of fine. She noticed there was no phone in it, and more important, no television.

      “I’d be happy to give you my room. I should have thought of that. Let me take five minutes to change the sheets and move out some of my stuff.”

      He really was sweet, and she didn’t want to be a problem child, but this back and forth across the hall business didn’t excite her. “Does your room have a TV?”

      “No. The only TV is in the living room, and I need to warn you, the reception isn’t very reliable in Sonoita. Depends on how the wind’s blowing.”

      She stared at him, unable to imagine unreliable TV reception. She’d begun to accept the lack of shopping options, but she needed TV reception, or life as she knew it would cease to exist.

      Then she had a brainstorm. “So I bet you have a DVD player, for when the reception is bad.”

      “Uh, no. I have an old VCR, but it’s cranky. I don’t use it much.”

      “So how do you amuse yourself at night?”

      “I go to bed.”

      She tried not to laugh. She really tried hard, but the laugh popped out of her, anyway. God, he was adorable.

      Apparently he figured out how his answer must have hit her, because he got even redder. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

      “That’s too bad. The conversation was getting really interesting.” She took pity on his discomfort and decided to ease up on him. After all, she made her living trading loaded remarks, but he didn’t.

      The morning talk show was supposed to be spicy. That’s how viewers liked it. Throwing out saucy comments had become a habit, but here was a country guy, business degree notwithstanding, who wasn’t used to banter. She didn’t want to scare him off, because he just might be the temporary answer to her sexual frustration.

      “I shouldn’t tease you,” she said. “As I said before, I appreciate your willingness to put up with me for a few days. This room will be fine. Thank you for allowing me to stay in it.”

      “You’re welcome.” He edged toward the door. “Go ahead and get settled in. I’ll…go take care of some things.”

      “I hate to be a royal pain, but I would love some coffee. I have a caffeine habit that won’t quit, and my gauge is on the low side.”

      He looked relieved to have something he could provide. “I’ll make some coffee, then.”

      “Great. You, uh, wouldn’t have a way to make espresso, by any chance?”

      “No. Just plain coffee.”

      “That’s fine. Great. Plain coffee is great.”

      “Want me to bring it to you?”

      “No, no. I’ll come and get it.” God, he must really think she was a princess. Maybe she was and hadn’t realized it. She’d never been in this kind of environment before, so she wasn’t sure how Annie Oakley would have handled things.

      “I have a better idea. I’ll take it out to the porch.”

      “Sounds good.” She vaguely remembered walking across a porch but she’d been concentrating on his tush at the time. As for sitting on a porch, she was a virgin. It sounded as boring as staring at a blank TV screen, but she had to take his presence into consideration. That, of course, was assuming he’d join her in this porch-sitting experience.

      “Then I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He started down the hall and paused to glance back at her. “Do you take cream?”

      “Nonfat milk.” Somehow she just knew he wouldn’t have it. “Uh, all I have is half-and-half.”

      “Then I can drink it black.” She’d already blown her eating program with a fast-food hamburger for lunch. Most people didn’t appreciate how a TV personality had to monitor weight gain. Mona had a height advantage and was thin as a strip of linguini, besides. Being a short person, Meg showed any weight gain immediately. She couldn’t afford to look tubby compared to Mona.

      “Then black it is.” Clint disappeared down the hall.

      Once he was gone, Meg unzipped her suitcase and thought about her host as she started hanging up her clothes. This might be her chance to have a fling away from the hotbed of gossip that was New York City. When she’d dreamed of a career in television, she’d envisioned dating as part of it. She hadn’t realized how her visibility might hamper her social life, and sexual frustration was becoming a constant companion.

      This guy might be the perfect solution, if he had any interest in her at all. But she’d have to find out more about him and assure herself that he could be discreet. Then again, he might have a girlfriend. A man who looked like Clint would likely have a girlfriend. Damn.

      Sighing, she contemplated her wrinkled clothes. What she wouldn’t give for valet service. Or even a cleaners within five miles who could do a fast press job on these duds. But she knew enough not to ask about cleaners. If TV reception was dicey, a one-hour cleaning service would be out of the question. She hoped Clint owned an iron and ironing board.

      It sure was quiet around here. She hadn’t noticed the silence so much while she’d been with Clint, because he’d claimed a fair amount of her attention. Now that he was out of the room, the stillness was spooky. Some little bird was tweeting outside the window, and she could faintly hear the sound of Clint making coffee in the kitchen, but other than that, nothing. No cars, no sirens, no machinery clanking away.

      She looked around to see if the room had so much as a radio. No radio. But when she opened a dresser drawer to put her underwear away, the scent of cedar drifted up. Now that was nice. Cedar-lined drawers. She’d thought about doing that once in her apartment, but she wasn’t the Susie Homemaker type, so the thought had died quickly.

      After hanging up as many clothes as she expected to need for this leg of the trip, she pulled out her cosmetics bag and walked over to explore the bathroom. The place was basic, but adequate. And sparkling clean. She wondered if Clint had a cleaning lady or if he was responsible for the condition of everything. In any event, someone had made an effort on her behalf, and she appreciated that.

      She’d brought along a lighted makeup mirror, in case she’d need it. Pulling the chain that turned on the light beside the sink, she concluded that she’d need it. And as usual in old bathrooms, there was precious little counter space, although the counter was kind of pretty—tile in a bright flowered pattern that looked as though it had come from Mexico. She could handle this situation, so long as the hot water worked.

      Automatic reflex made her glance in the mirror. Not surprisingly, her nose was shiny and her lipstick nearly gone. She reached for her cosmetics bag, another automatic reaction. Meg Delancy, television personality, always had to look good. But as she zipped open the bag, the aroma of coffee drifted down the hall.

      To heck with repairing her makeup. She needed coffee, and Clint probably didn’t mind if her makeup was perfect or not. Men hardly ever noticed those things unless the problem was dramatic, like raccoon eyes. She also