Cowboy Incognito. Alice Sharpe

sweet tea in the refrigerator, included the apple and the banana she’d bought earlier and threw in a few granola bars for good measure. She’d been to the bank earlier that day so she knew she still had a couple of ATM twenties in her wallet.

      When she turned to look back in the living room, she found Zane had fallen asleep with his head thrown back, his hands lying on the cushion next to his thighs, his legs sprawled in front of him as though he’d finally surrendered to his long, arduous day. His breathing seemed steady and deep and, without the impact of his gaze, he appeared wan and worn out. She bent to shake his shoulder and he turned slightly at her touch, his breath warm against her hand, but didn’t waken.

      Up close like this, the bruises on his throat looked like bloody fingerprints, red and ugly, grotesque in their cruelty and intent. A bright red dot of blood had seeped through the bandage over the stitches on his cheek.

      She straightened up without touching him again, staring down at him for a moment, moved by his plight, touched by his decency and scared for his life. And totally intrigued.

      How were they connected, where did her mother fit into this? Did Ryan have something to do with what happened? Could he have been the phony cyclist? She didn’t think so, but was she positive?

      No answers, not tonight, anyway. She quietly put the bag of food in the refrigerator, dimmed the lights and with one last look at the gorgeous man asleep on her love seat, closed the bedroom door behind her.

      Five minutes later, she slept.