Forbidden Read Free Page B

hiding them.
    Their attraction was a mutual thing, Kayla realized. Maybe it was his western accent, reminding her of Liam. Except Liam’s accent had been faint, barely there, worn down by his years in Boston, by his desire to fit in with the fast-paced city’s way of life. This cowboy’s accent, though, was thick and rich and resonant, surrounding her like the warm wool of a hand-knit sweater.
    Physically, the cowboy was nothing like Liam. Liam had been barely taller than she was. He had been slender and blond and quick to smile. His eyes had been blue too, but they were the color of the summer sky, not icicle blue like the cowboy’s.
    It was natural that Kayla should feel some sort of fondness for this man, she tried to reassure herself. After all, he’d rescued her from the storm. He’d heroically carried her here. He’d stayed with her, cared for her. And it certainly didn’t hurt that his sternly handsome face and his well-proportioned physique made him look like the poster model for the untamed West.
    Kayla glanced down at her hands. Her fingers were raw from the digging she’d done, and starting to sting. “I’m turning into a prune,” she told the cowboy. “I’ve got to get out of the tub.”
    He moved closer as she stood, ready to catch her if she slipped.
    His presence was oddly reassuring. It was odd because, with her track record, living in the city the way she did, and working full-time for the Boston Women’s Crisis Center, Kayla couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt anything but uneasy from the attention of a strange man. Or even a familiar man. And this cowboy was no lightweight. With his height and build, he didn’t have to say please and thank you to get what he wanted. Still, Kayla felt no threat from him.
    She wobbled slightly, and he gently took hold of her arm.
    “Let me give you a hand,” he said. His voice sounded tighter, choked, and as Kayla glanced at him, following his gaze, she instantly knew why.
    Her wet clothes clung to her intimately. The normally thick white cotton of her shirt was made almost transparent from its wetness. And with the cutaway shoulders of this shirt, she wasn’t wearing a bra. She might as well have been standing in front of him barebreasted.
    The cowboy was trying his best not to stare. He looked away, down at the floor, but not before Kayla saw a flare of heat in his ice-blue eyes.
    Still, he was almost as embarrassed as she was. He took a big towel from the rack on the wall and wrapped it quickly around Kayla’s shoulders. “Better get out of those wet things,” he said gruffly. He motioned to the door with his head. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”
    Cal gently closed the bathroom door behind him, letting out a long-held breath.
    Damn.
    Damn.
    The powers that be surely had some reason for putting Cal in a situation like that, but he sure as hell hadn’t figured that reason out yet. He knew nothing about this girl. For all he knew, she was married. The only things he knew about her for sure were that she was a fighter, that she had the prettiest smile he’d ever seen, and that she had a body to die for. Hell, he didn’t even know her name.
    He crossed to the fire, crouched on the rug in front of it, and threw another log on the flames.
    The bathroom door opened with a creak, and Cal looked up to see the girl peeking out.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, a tinge of embarrassment on her cheeks. “I know this is awkward, but…I need your help with these buttons on my shirt….” Cal stood as she crossed toward him, toward the light of the fire. She held out her hands in explanation. “My fingers are still kind of numb.”
    She’d also torn up her hands digging that hole he’d found her in. The tips of her fingers looked raw and scraped and very painful.
    She shivered, and Cal drew her closer to the fire. There were about two dozen tiny buttons starting at the high neck of the shirt that still clung revealingly to her body.