The Bounty Hunter's Bride. Sandra Steffen

it across his chest. His muscles flexed beneath her hand, his voice little more than a husky rasp as he said, “I’ll take it from here, Josie. You’ve already done more than I’ll ever be able to repay.”

      She relinquished the washcloth to him, saying, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that, Kane.”

      His eyes narrowed, his hand stilling. “About what?”

      She cleared her throat and swallowed the knot that had formed around her voice box. “About repaying me.”

      “You want money?”

      She shook her head. “No. But there is something you can do.”

      “And what might that be?” His voice had taken on an ominous ring in the silent room.

      She’d been rehearsing this for two and a half days. Suddenly she didn’t know how to begin. Calling on the angels for courage, she looked directly into his eyes and said, “I’ve been dreaming of getting off this mountain for as long as I can remember. If what you said is true and you want to repay me, I’d like you to take me with you back to Montana. I could do almost anything you asked. I’m a virgin, but I’m a fast learner.”

      Chapter Two

      “You’re a what?”

      Kane yelled too loud and moved too fast. One hurt his eardrums and the other sent pain shooting through his shoulder. He didn’t care. It beat the wounded look crossing Josie’s face that very instant.

      “I’m a fast learner,” she said, lowering her eyes.

      That wasn’t what he’d asked her to repeat. She’d said she was a virgin. Come to think of it, he didn’t want her to repeat it. Once had been enough.

      Other than a log snapping on the fire, the room was more quiet than he’d ever heard it. Too quiet. He tried to remember some of the things his older brother had said after he’d hurt his wife’s feelings. Spence wasn’t very good at making amends. Hell, Kane was worse. “Look,” he said. “You’re young and—” he swallowed “—innocent, but you don’t even know me.”

      “I know I love you.”

      “You know you—” The blood flow to the lower half of his body came to a screeching halt, right after the blood flow stopped to his brain. It was a good thing Kane had steady instincts. Otherwise he never would have caught the slight hand that was inching dangerously close to certain anatomical parts that would respond no matter what his brain said.

      “No, Josie.”

      Round gray eyes stared into his. “What do you mean no?”

      “I mean,” he ground out, “I live alone. I work alone. I travel alone. And I’ll die alone.”

      “But you don’t have to—”

      “Yes, I do.” Without another word, he clutched the side of the old claw-foot bathtub with his good hand and pushed to his feet. Water sluiced down his body. Being careful to keep his back to Josie, he reached for a threadbare towel. He felt a little dizzy, but he managed to keep the towel firmly in front of him as he stepped down to the floor.

      She was still watching him, still speechless. Wisps of light blond hair had escaped the band on the back of her head, damp tendrils curling over her ears and forehead. She was wearing blue jeans, hiking boots with thick wool socks and a gray-and-blue flannel shirt. He could see the outline of her breasts and the dime-size circle in the center of each of them. Kane had no business noticing, no business responding. And she had no business looking good in that kind of outfit.

      Suddenly she moved toward him, her hands reaching around him, drawing the ends of the towel together at his side. Her fingers shook slightly as she tucked the edges underneath. Slowly she raised her gaze to his. “There’s plenty of time to think about it, Kane.”

      Kane was struck speechless all over again. He thought he’d faced the biggest shock of his life when that bullet had sliced through him three days ago. It had been a week of firsts. That had been the first time he hadn’t been able to dodge a bullet, and this was the first time anyone had offered him a virgin sacrifice.

      “I don’t need to think about it, dammit. I already told you I live alone. Besides, you’re too young and too skinny.”

      Josie felt the floor shake as he stomped away. His words might have hurt her feelings, if she hadn’t caught a glimpse of—what was it her mama used to say? The proof is in the pudding. Whether Kane Slater knew it or not, she’d seen living proof that he didn’t find her nearly as repulsive as he claimed.

      While he banged around on the other side of the one-room cabin, tugging on his own clean jeans and shrugging into the makeshift sling she’d concocted from one of her brothers’ shirts, she drained the bathtub and tidied the place up a little.

      He swore loudly and often. Josie let him cuss. His orneriness didn’t faze her. Good heavens, she was closely related to five of the grouchiest men on the planet. She’d always wanted a sister, but now she was beginning to think it had been a good thing she’d been exposed to so many grumpy men. She’d been educated by the best. Consequently she shouldn’t have too much trouble dealing with Kane’s ornery side.

      She loved him. She was sure of it now. That made this serious.

      She’d thought it would never happen to her. And yet here she was, sitting in a quiet cabin on a quiet mountain, her heart brimming with quiet emotions that simply refused to settle down. She loved a man from Montana, a man who’d risked his life and who claimed he needed no one. No matter what he said, he seemed more lonely than loner.

      Fishing the soap out of the bottom of the bathtub, she reminded herself that Kane was very, very stubborn. It just so happened that she held the title for that one. A few years ago she’d gone on strike, refusing to cook meals for her brothers and wash their dirty clothes. All because she’d gotten sick and tired of their slovenly ways and lack of manners. At first they’d been downright snide about their refusal to change, but when they were hungry enough and smelly enough, they’d given in. Oh, they were still a little on the slovenly side, but at least now they said “thank you” when she served them their supper and “excuse me” when they belched.

      Luckily Kane wasn’t slovenly or rude. She was just going to have to find a way to win him over to her way of thinking. Food had been the straw that had broken her brothers’ backs. Remembering the way Kane had kissed her and what that kiss had done to his body set off a new round of flutters deep in her belly. Something told her that in order to win Kane over, she was going to have to whet his appetite. Not necessarily for food.

      She hummed to herself while she added a log to the fire. By the time she’d added carrots and celery to the venison roast she was cooking in the oven, she had broken out in song. Casting a surreptitious glance at Kane, her tune trailed away. He was stretched out on the bed, one leg dangling over the side. Evidently he hadn’t been able to manage the shirt on his own. He’d given up, an arm in one sleeve, his other shoulder and arm bare. Eyes closed, he looked pale, his chest rising and falling evenly.

      Pressing one hand over her mouth and the other over her heart, she thought, He’s beautiful in repose. Striding closer, she imagined herself watching him sleep thirty years from now, thinking the same thing. Of course, he would be older, his face more lined, his body a little thicker. But his chest would still be as broad, his jaw as square, his lips as enticing. She would have liked the freedom to kiss each of those features.

      Someday, she told herself. First she had to get to know him better, to become familiar with the little quirks that made up his personality. She wanted to figure out what it took to make him smile and what was behind the low rumbling sound he made deep in his throat.

      Covering him with the quilt, she whispered, “Rest now, Kane. You’re going to need all your strength for what I have in store for us.”

      She glanced around the sparsely furnished room before strolling to the window. Outside, the wind had piled the