Cowboy Courage. Judy Duarte

thrilled to be able to stay with the Petersons until the water receded.

      “Good morning,” Laurie said as she joined him in the kitchen. She wore the same outfit she’d worn yesterday. Apparently, she’d hung it up to dry. It wasn’t nearly as flattering as the oversized robe, but he still had trouble keeping his eyes off her.

      “Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

      She held back a yawn. “Great. I was exhausted.”

      For someone who claimed to have slept “great,” she didn’t look rested. He wondered if that fiery kiss they’d shared had affected her as much as it had him.

      Maybe not, but then again, she probably hadn’t gone without sex as long as he had. She had, after all, been engaged. To a jerk, of course, but even a cheating fool wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off a woman like her.

      She never did say what the guy’s name was, but that was just as well. Cole really didn’t want to know.

      “Would you like some coffee?” He nodded toward the back porch where he’d placed the stove and tried to be a good host while steering the conversation away from his carnal thoughts. “I can make fresh.”

      “Don’t go to any trouble for me. I’ll just have a half of a cup of whatever you have left.” She glanced to the back porch, apparently noting the aluminum coffee pot resting upon the butane stove. “I take it the electricity is still off.”

      “Yeah. The rain should let up some by this evening, so I hope the power will kick back on soon.” He didn’t mention the flooded road. No need to worry her. The water would recede in a day or so. It always did.

      “I guess we’re in for another camp-out,” she said, offering a shy, one-dimpled smile.

      “Looks that way to me.” He attempted to counter with a smile of his own. “Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable? Toothbrush? Razor?”

      She nibbled her bottom lip, then brightened. “Can I borrow one of your old shirts? I have a pair of leggings, but no top I’d feel comfortable wearing.”

      “Sure,” he said, trying to imagine the kind of tops she’d brought with her. And wishing she’d wear the robe that had taunted him last night. He couldn’t shake the sensual image and wondered how much of what they’d experienced would be repeated tonight.

      Not the kiss, his mind warned him. Laurie Smith would be in and out of his life like this thunderstorm.

      And Cole needed more than a quick roll in the hay, no matter how dynamic it promised to be. He had a strong sense of morality. And a one-rainy-night stand wasn’t something he wanted or needed.

      But a growing case of lust argued otherwise.

      After a lunch of sliced cheese, apples and crackers, Laurie spent a lazy afternoon curled up on the sofa, reading a murder mystery she’d found on a bookshelf near the fireplace. The room, darkened by storm clouds that hid a setting sun, gave a somber and somewhat eerie ambiance to the story.

      Several times she had to remind herself that she was safe within the warmth of Cole McAdams’s home. Closing the book’s cover, she let it rest upon her lap as she scanned the room. Unlike the estate she and Daniel had leased, this house had a personality of its own. Even without electricity, Laurie rather enjoyed the semi-rugged living conditions. She wished the peaceful exile would last forever, but knew it wouldn’t.

      Soon, when she had pondered her choices and prepared to live with the consequences of her decision, she would return to California. But she had more to consider than her feelings about a disappointing relationship. As far as she was concerned, her engagement was over. That choice had been made when she learned of Daniel’s affair with Denise, but her concerns ran much deeper than Daniel Walker. For, she had also left El Corazón de los Angeles, the Heart of the Angels, a foundation she had developed.

      Laurie had fought long and hard to create a homeless shelter in the inner city of Los Angeles. She’d found an old, abandoned warehouse that she was convinced could be brought up to code and transformed into a temporary shelter for single mothers and their children. A place where women could receive job counseling, and their children could be tutored. Where defeated spirits could find hope and pride.

      It was a dream she’d worked hard to transform to reality, a dream based on her own early years. Looking back, Laurie knew life had been tough and frightening, at least for her mom. But a mother’s love could blind a child to the harsh realities life presented. Laurie wanted to save other women and children from the same cruel fate. Interestingly enough, Aunt Caroline had encouraged her involvement. It had been the first time Laurie and the older woman had agreed.

      Daniel had promised his support of the project by helping to secure the proper zoning and approval. But now, Laurie no longer wanted Daniel’s involvement. His deception only marred her dream. What else had he hidden from her?

      Earlier this morning, when she reached into the canvas tote for her makeup bag, she’d found the yellow envelope that belonged to Daniel. She’d nearly opened it then, but had thought better of it.

      She’d almost convinced herself that it was because the envelope didn’t belong to her. But she suspected the real reason was that she needed to distance herself from her troubles for a while, to clear her head and her heart.

      Obviously, Daniel had intended to use her and their marriage to hide an ongoing affair with a married woman. His political ambitions didn’t stop at the state senate, and the resulting publicity from his role in breaking up the marriage of a prominent surgeon would thwart his campaign efforts.

      She had more to consider than just her own pride. Did she wait until the zoning for El Corazón had been decided? And what would Aunt Caroline say? Her aunt adored Daniel and was one of his biggest supporters.

      She tried to call home around noon, just to tell her aunt not to worry, but Cole’s phone was dead. And the battery of her cell phone had long since lost power.

      Still, she knew exactly what her aunt would say. The election was only weeks away, and Aunt Caroline would undoubtedly instruct Laurie to apologize to Daniel for running off as she had. She’d suggest Laurie beg to be forgiven and be allowed a second chance to become the wife of a state senator. Then, of course, Laurie would be advised to bite her tongue and close her eyes while Daniel continued an affair with Denise Harper. But Laurie wouldn’t do that, no matter how much she owed her aunt.

      And unfortunately, Laurie owed Caroline Taylor a lot.

      Fifteen years ago, a drunk driver had run a stop sign and crashed into Laurie’s mother’s car, killing her instantly. A social worker had picked Laurie up from school that day, placing her in foster care, leaving her dependent upon strangers for food, shelter and comfort. The loneliness had been almost unbearable. Then, one day a caseworker had told her she was going home to California to live with her mother’s wealthy older sister and would ride on a real airplane.

      When Laurie had first entered Aunt Caroline’s sprawling estate on a hill in Bel Aire, she’d met her mother’s sister for the first time. Caroline Taylor had a cool, overbearing manner, but the straitlaced matron tried to welcome the lonely, frightened eight-year-old home. Yet for some reason, Laurie had never been able to completely shake the feeling of being orphaned. Nor could she seem to rid herself of the need to be accommodating and easygoing, in hopes that she would somehow fit in and always be allowed to stay.

      Now Laurie wasn’t sure who she was—what she felt or needed, but she did know one thing for certain. When she returned to California, she darn sure wouldn’t be mild-mannered and accommodating.

      “How about something to drink before dinner?” Cole’s voice called from the doorway.

      Glad to have a respite from her reverie, Laurie searched for a smile. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”

      He leaned against the doorjamb, a thumb tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. His dark hair curled upon the open collar of a white shirt. Cole McAdams wasn’t at