.

of his neck. He tentatively slid a hand down the cool material that covered her back. “Shh, it was just a dream,” he said softly.

      It would be easier to comfort her if he wasn’t bare-chested, if he wasn’t so intensely aware of every point where her bare skin made contact with his.

      She raised her face to look at him. Her eyes were misty with tears but her full lips parted as if in invitation or some kind of strange desperation.

      He didn’t think about kissing her ahead of time. He didn’t consciously plan to. It just happened. One minute he was gazing at her face and the next minute his mouth covered hers. He didn’t just kiss her, she kissed him back, her mouth opening against his as he pulled her closer to him.

      The kiss lasted only a second or two, then she pulled away from him, a horrified look on her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, her cheeks blossoming with high color.

      “No…I’m sorry,” he replied stiffly. “You were screaming and obviously having a nightmare and I…I just meant to wake you.”

      She released a breathless, embarrassed laugh. “I’m definitely awake.”

      “Then I’ll just…uh…let you go back to sleep.” Dalton backed out of the room, afraid that if he remained another minute longer he’d want to kiss her again.

      What was he doing? he wondered as he threw himself back on the sofa. Every nerve in his body was electrified, every muscle tense. His response to that kiss stunned him. He knew virtually nothing about Jane Craig except that her skin had been soft as silk and her lips had been hot and willing.

      It was possible by tomorrow she’d be gone. It was even more certain that he didn’t want to be involved with her. He didn’t want to know what she dreamed about, he didn’t want to share his life with her in any way, shape or form. It had been wrong to kiss her, because all he could think about now was how much he wanted to kiss her again.

      He fell asleep dreaming of the sweet heat of her mouth and awakened the next morning stiff and sore from the night on the sofa. He got up, nearly tripping over Sammy’s diaper bag on the floor. He swallowed a curse.

      By the time he’d made coffee, some of the stiffness of his muscles had begun to ease, as had his foul mood. He sat at the table, his hands wrapped around a mug of fresh brew. Even though it wasn’t quite seven o’clock he could hear the sounds of plows already at work.

      Maybe the bus would come this afternoon, he thought. That would be a good thing. He could see Jane and Sammy to the bus stop, wish them well on their way, then return to his solitary life without temptation. And Jane Craig had become a definite temptation.

      He still sat at the table with thoughts of Jane when a knock sounded on his door. He jumped up from the table and hurried to answer. He pulled open the door to see his brother Zack standing on his landing, his gloved hands holding a shovel.

      “Hey, bro, just thought I’d check in to see if you survived the storm. I just finished clearing off the driveway and your car and thought you might have a hot cup of coffee for me.”

      Dalton held the door tightly. Please, please don’t tell anyone I’m here. Jane’s words pounded in his head as he stared at his brother. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “And you don’t want to come in here, Zack,” he finally said. “I’ve got the flu, been throwing up off and on all night.”

      Zack frowned and took a step backward as if to avoid any germs floating in the air between them. “You need anything? We’ve about got all the major roads cleared in town and some of the stores are opening this morning.”

      “Nah, I’m fine. I just think I might be contagious so it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to come inside, but I really appreciate you cleaning off the driveway. I’m sure George appreciates it, too. I’d love for you to come in, but I’m really not feeling well.” Dalton couldn’t tell if Zack believed him or not but he breathed a sigh of relief as Zack backed down the stairs, promising to check in on him later.

      Dalton closed the door, hating the fact that he’d lied to his brother for reasons he didn’t quite understand. If Jane’s abusive ex-boyfriend had somehow tracked her to Cotter Creek, then why on earth would it matter if the local sheriff knew about it?

      He turned to see Jane standing in the bedroom doorway, Sammy in her arms. “Thank you,” she said.

      “Don’t thank me. I’m not happy about lying to my family.” He walked back into the kitchen, aware of her following just behind him.

      When he saw that she was about to prepare a bottle for Sammy, he held out his hands to take the kid from her arms. As always, Sammy looked delighted to see him. He launched himself into Dalton’s arms with a big grin that lit up his entire little face.

      “Is this kid ever in a bad mood?” Dalton asked as he sat in a chair. Sammy smelled like baby powder and lotion, a pleasant scent that reminded Dalton of dreams half-forgotten and abandoned.

      “Rarely,” she replied, moving to the sink. As she stood with her back to him he couldn’t help but notice again the tight fit of her worn jeans across her butt. She had a great butt. Besides the jeans she wore a pink sweater that hugged her slender curves and complemented her blond coloring.

      She fixed the bottle, then took Sammy from his arms and sat in the chair next to his, her hair falling softly around her shoulders. “If the streets are clear enough maybe it would be best if I found someplace else to go until the bus runs again.”

      She looked so small, so utterly vulnerable, and at that moment Sammy smiled at him around his bottle’s nipple, the gesture sending a stream of formula down the side of his mouth.

      “That isn’t necessary,” he replied. “Zack just told me the streets are practically clear, so I imagine that the bus will run tomorrow.”

      “Good.” She held his gaze. “About last night…”

      “You had a nightmare. I comforted you. That’s all there was to it.” He got up to pour himself another cup of coffee. “You want some breakfast? I was thinking maybe I’d make a stack of pancakes.”

      “You don’t have to go to all that trouble for me,” she protested.

      He grinned at her. “I’m more than willing to go to that kind of trouble for me.”

      She returned his smile. “Well, in that case pancakes sound wonderful.”

      Breakfast was pleasant. Sammy entertained with coos and grins as his mother and Dalton ate pancakes and talked. The conversation was marked with a new easiness that he suspected came from the fact that they both saw the end of their confinement together.

      She made him laugh as she shared with him funny stories about her grandmother. He noticed that in none of the stories did she mention the older sister she was supposedly on her way to visit, but he didn’t call her on it. Instead he simply enjoyed the way her eyes sparkled as she spoke of the old woman who had raised her.

      She might not have graduated high school, but she was smart as a whip. She argued politics with him and spoke easily of current affairs. He had a feeling she would do well no matter what path she chose in life.

      The rest of the day passed pleasantly. As Sammy took a late-afternoon nap, Dalton and Jane sat at the table and played poker with toothpicks as chips.

      “You’re one heck of a bluffer,” he said after she’d won her third pot.

      She laughed. “If you think I’m good, you should play with Nana. She’s the ultimate poker player in the family. In fact, she gets together once a week with some of the other ladies in the trailer park and they tell everyone they’re playing bridge, but they really play poker.”

      He laughed, but his laughter was cut short by a knock on his door. “Sit tight. I’ll get rid of whoever it is.” She cast him a grateful look as he got up from the table.

      It was probably one of his other brothers coming to check in