In Blackhawk's Bed. Barbara McCauley

wasn’t so unusual. He’d woken up more than once in the dark in a strange place, a strange bed. In his line of work, he was never certain about where he’d be sleeping. A car, a park bench, even an occasional alley, amidst a community of homeless who lived in cardboard structures and tents made out of blankets. Wherever his job took him, he went, and most of the time it seemed as if he spent more time on the streets than in his own apartment.

      But the scent of cinnamon and…what else? Apples, that’s what it was. The scent of cinnamon and apples had never woken him before. For several moments, he thought he might be dreaming, maybe having one of the flashbacks he occasionally had from his childhood. Before the accident. Before his life had changed so dramatically.

      But he wasn’t dreaming, he realized. The scent was very real, as real as the bed he lay in. A firm, comfortable mattress covered with smooth, soft sheets, feather pillows and a thick, down comforter. He blinked, raised his head and glanced at the bedside clock.

      Five in the morning. Not exactly the middle of the night, but not exactly what he’d call morning, either.

      Seth blinked again, rolled to his back and felt the pain shoot straight up his leg.

      He swore hotly and remembered where he was.

      In Ridgewater, Texas.

      Home of the world’s largest fruitcake.

      Gritting his teeth, Seth slid his legs out from under the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. When the pain subsided, he flipped on the nightstand lamp and looked around the room. It was a nice room, large, with high ceilings and white chair rails against soft blue-and-white striped walls. The windows were tall with lace curtains, the highly polished hardwood floors dotted with navy blue throw rugs. There was a white-tiled bathroom attached to the room, with a ball-and-claw bathtub and a showerhead that a guest could hold or attach to the wall.

      Seth dragged a hand through his hair and stretched, then rolled his shoulders. His neck felt a little stiff and a low throb pounded in his head, but all in all, other than his swollen ankle, which had turned a deep shade of purple, he felt fine.

      Well, as fine as he could feel about being stuck in the middle of nowhere for God knew how long.

      After last night’s gathering, Seth was counting the minutes until he could leave Ridgewater. He knew he should appreciate that all those people had shown up to meet him, but the fact was, he didn’t. He hadn’t done anything that any other person in his situation wouldn’t have done. He didn’t deserve, and he sure as hell didn’t like, all that attention.

      Especially from Billy Bishop, ace reporter for the Ridgewater Gazette.

      Billy had been a major pain in the butt. He’d wanted to know every detail of Seth’s life. His work, his past, even his hobbies, for God’s sake. Even if he had a hobby, which he didn’t, who the hell would care what it was? He’d intentionally kept his answers vague and short. The less he gave Billy Bob Bishop, the shorter the article and the quicker this entire incident would fade away.

      Careful not to put any pressure on his ankle, he slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of gray sweat pants and the T-shirt he’d worn the night before, then hobbled to the door and followed the seductive scent to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, surprised to see Hannah standing at the counter, filling muffin tins with thick batter from a large metal bowl. From a big blue clip on top of her head, her long blond curls tumbled down her back like a rippling waterfall. She wore a light-blue robe and pink bunny slippers. He could swear she was humming…

      …“Born to be Wild?”

      Smiling, he leaned against the doorjamb and watched her. After she’d shown him to his room last night, she’d laid out fresh towels and soap, apologized for all the commotion, then quickly excused herself. She’d intentionally avoided eye contact with him, even as she was thanking him once again for saving Maddie.

      He supposed she’d been nervous about him staying in the house. He was a complete stranger to her, after all, and the only thing she really knew about him, other than his driver’s license statistics, was that he worked for the Albuquerque police department.

      But earlier in the evening, when she’d been talking to her friend, Seth had looked at her. And she’d looked back.

      Whatever had passed between them—and he still wasn’t certain if he’d imagined it—had been potent.

      It wasn’t as if he hadn’t experienced lust before. Hell, that was more than familiar territory to him. What hadn’t been familiar had been the intensity of what should have been a simple look, but had been anything but simple. And while it disturbed him on one level, it intrigued him on another.

      She intrigued him. A beautiful woman, single mother of mischievous twin girls, soon-to-be proprietor of a bed-and-breakfast. He’d seen the fear in her pale-blue eyes yesterday when he’d handed Maddie to her, but she’d stayed calm and kept her composure when a lot of women would have come unraveled. She’d taken care of him, then graciously opened her house to her neighbors, quietly set out coffee and food and stood back and watched.

      Her song changed from Steppenwolf to Ricky Martin’s “Shake Your Bon-Bon.” Seth dropped his gaze to her pretty bottom moving back and forth to the Latin beat, and he felt his gut tighten. Damn. He’d never been a fan of Ricky’s until this moment.

      Seth swallowed the dryness in his throat, knew that he should announce his presence rather than standing here leering at the woman. He just couldn’t help himself. The sight of her moving to the song, dressed in that simple bathrobe and bunny slippers should have been humorous, but strangely, he found it sexy. When she gave an extra little twist to her hips, Seth forgot to breathe.

      Damn if the woman wasn’t getting him hard.

      He supposed the fall might have rattled his brain, but whatever it was, his hormones had jumped to attention and were clanging warning bells. His pulse quickened, and it seemed as if all the blood from his head had taken a trip south.

      He remembered the firm press of her body against his yesterday, the smooth feel of her skin under his hands when he’d held her arm on the sofa, the way she’d looked at him last night across the crowded room. No question there was chemistry between them.

      The question was, should he act on it?

      Strange, but he’d never asked himself that before. If he’d wanted a woman and she’d wanted him, it was simple. If it felt right, Seth had never held back. He went for it and whatever happened, happened.

      But Hannah wasn’t simple. Something told him that she was anything but simple. Seth knew he was just passing through this town and this woman’s life. The last thing he should be doing was having thoughts about taking her to bed.

      Then she shook her bottom again as she softly sang and Seth felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He knew if he didn’t stop her, he was probably going to do something very foolish.

      “Morning.”

      She whirled around, a look of sheer shock on her face. She stood there for a moment, eyes wide as she stared at him, then her face flushed bright red.

      Because she hadn’t belted her robe, the short, pink cotton nightgown she had on didn’t hide much. At the sight of her high, unfettered breasts, he felt another slam to his gut. His gaze traveled down over her long, shapely legs, and his body flooded with heat.

      Even her silly slippers looked sexy to him, an obvious indication he wasn’t thinking clearly. He could picture himself tugging those bunnies off her feet, then sliding his hand up her sleek curves, over her hips and under her simple cotton nightgown, up higher, until his palms were filled with her soft, feminine flesh.

      It took a few seconds and a will of iron to wrench his gaze back up to hers. She still hadn’t moved, except that her lips had formed a small O.

      When he pushed away from the doorjamb, she instantly went from zero to eighty. She mumbled a good morning as she whipped back around, dropped the batter-filled measuring cup into the bowl, then belted her bathrobe