Cowboy Resurrected. Elle James

in an intimate glow.

      He grabbed a candle from the mantel and held it to the match, then stuck it in a tin holder. “That will do for a start, but it’s cold, we’re wet and we’ll need a fire or we’ll have a really bad night of it.” He lifted the lid off a box beside the stove and grunted. “Nice.” Several logs lay in the bottom, along with old newspapers. “Hank knows how to stock a cabin,” he muttered as he lifted the logs out and stacked them in the stove.

      Sophia’s heart skipped several beats. “Hank?”

      The man wadded up newspaper and jammed it beneath the logs before responding. “Yeah, you’re trespassing on the Raging Bull Ranch. I take it you were the one to cut the fence?” He shot a narrowed glance behind him. “Illegal alien?”

      She refused to be intimidated by his glare. “I am an American citizen.”

      “Even American citizens don’t have the right to destroy other people’s property or trespass. You can take it up with the law in the morning.”

      Could it be she’d found her way to Hank Derringer’s land? Hope rose inside her. “I’d rather take it up with this man Hank.”

      The cowboy shrugged. “Suit yourself, lady. I don’t care.” He held out his hand. “I’ll take those matches now.”

      She handed him the box and stood back.

      He got the paper burning and the dry wood caught soon after, crackling and popping. He left the door to the stove open, the blaze lighting the interior of the tiny cabin in a soft, cozy glow.

      The heat didn’t extend beyond a few feet from the stove.

      Still leery about the cowboy’s intentions, Sophia remained outside his reach, her arms clutched around her body, her teeth chattering.

      The big man stood, holding his hands to the fire. “Sure is warm over here.” He cast a glance at her and shook his head. “Good grief, woman, you’re freezing. Get closer before you catch your death.”

      “I’m f-fine,” she insisted, her gaze on the flames, mesmerized by the thought of warmth.

      The cowboy unbuttoned his soaked shirt and peeled it off his shoulders.

      Sophia gasped and backed even farther away until the backs of her knees ran into the side of the bed and she almost fell. “What are you doing?”

      “Getting out of my wet clothes. I don’t plan on freezing all night.” He scooped her backpack off the floor and opened it. “Do you have any dry clothes in here?”

      She darted forward and snatched at the backpack. “That’s mine.”

      He held on to the strap, his eyes narrowing. “Seeing as we have to share this cabin for a night, I’d like to know you’re not hiding a knife or another gun in here that you plan on using on me in my sleep.” He peeled her fingers off the other strap and dumped the contents of the backpack on the closest of the twin beds.

      Foil-wrapped tortillas, a can of frijoles pinto and two bottles of water fell out on the bed. Enough food for two people for a single day. Beside them, a flashlight, fifty dollars of American money and one extra T-shirt was all she had to her name.

      “Not much to go cross-country on.”

      “I was backpacking in the canyon. I didn’t plan on staying,” she lied.

      He dug in one of the side pockets of the backpack and brought out the wire cutters. “Something you carry on hikes?”

      She shrugged. “A girl never knows what tools she’ll need.”

      “Anyone ever tell you it’s not safe to travel alone in this area? Especially if you’re a woman.”

      Sophia swallowed hard on the lump forming in her throat. She hadn’t planned on traveling alone. Hector was to guide and protect her until she found Hank Derringer. Now Hector lay dead back in the canyon. With no one to help her, she had to rely on herself. She lifted her chin. “I don’t need a man to protect me.” Especially one who wanted to control her and keep her locked away from the world.

      “Glad to know that. I didn’t plan on signing up for the job.” He lifted the blanket she’d tossed on the bed earlier. “Since you have a dry T-shirt, I’ll use the blanket until my jeans dry.” He nodded toward the bed and the pile of supplies. “Get out of your wet clothes. Getting sick will do you no good.” He reached for the button on his jeans.

      Sophia’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. “What are you doing?”

      He shook his head and spoke slowly, as if to a dense child. “I told you, I’m getting out of my wet clothes. You can watch...or not.” He flicked the button open and ran the zipper down in one fluid movement.

      Sophia gasped and spun away from him. “I don’t even know you.”

      “It’s not like I’m going to make love to you. I prefer my women willing, dry and preferably not covered in mud.”

      “All the more reason to remain in my wet clothing.”

      “Suit yourself.” He tossed the jeans over a chair beside her. “If it’ll help, I’ll turn my back while you strip out of those muddy things. I might even be convinced to take them out in the rain and rinse them for you so that you’ll have something semiclean to wear in the morning.”

      She did feel gritty and cold. The dirt she could handle, but the cold couldn’t be good for her baby. “Fine.” She turned toward him, happy to note he’d wrapped his naked body in the blanket. “Turn around.”

      She’d been raised in Monterrey by her Mexican father and her American mother, but the proprieties of life in Mexico demanded she didn’t strip naked in front of a stranger.

      Granted, proprieties had gone by the wayside when she’d chosen to move in with Antonio, despite her parents’ objections. They’d begged her to wait until she had the ring on her finger before committing to such a drastic move. But Antonio had been eager to have her to himself, and Sophia had been young and stupid in love.

      “Look, I’ll turn my back,” the man said. “But you have to promise not to stab me in it while I do.”

      Sophia snorted. “I don’t have a knife, and you took my gun.”

      * * *

      THORN KEPT HIS back to her, watching her movements through his peripheral vision and the movement of her shadow.

      She eased along the wall toward the stove, wary of him and as skittish as a wild cat. If she didn’t get out of the muddy clothes, they wouldn’t dry by morning and she’d possibly get sick or suffer hypothermia from being cold all night.

      Thorn didn’t relish the idea of hauling a sick woman back to the ranch. Especially if they were going to have to ride double on the motorcycle she’d hidden beneath the lean-to.

      “Since we’ll be sharing this cabin until the storm abates, it might help to know your name. I’m Thorn Drennan.”

      She didn’t answer for a long time.

      When he turned to see if she’d somehow slipped by him and left, his chest tightened.

      The woman had shed her wet, dirty clothing and was slipping the dry T-shirt over her head and down her body.

      Silhouetted against the fireplace, her curves were all woman and deliciously alluring.

      A shock of desire ripped through him, and he closed his eyes to the image.

      He hadn’t felt anything for another woman since Kayla had died two years ago. Trapped in a cabin with a stranger, he wasn’t prepared for the heat burning through his veins.

      The woman turned toward him, her eyes narrowing. “You said you’d keep your back turned,” she whispered accusingly.

      “You didn’t answer. I thought you might have bolted