A Little Night Muse. Jessa Slade

      And her eyes...Oregon was known for its greenery, but every hue was captured in her brilliant eyes.

      Damn, his mouth was still hanging open. His neighbors hadn’t mentioned they’d be hosting Arabian princesses. His mind drifted to a thousand and one nights.

      “Miss.” He swept the hat off his head and clutched it between his hands.

      “I’m wet,” she said. “Come inside.”

      His heart stopped. “Wet?” She didn’t mean...

      She stepped back. “Come.” Her voice—soft and husky—was like a velvet hook set in his stupid open mouth. But if she wanted to play catch and release, he was willing game.

      His boot hit the bottom step before he realized he was moving. The snake skin stuck to his heel, and it rustled across the plank. He paused to kick it free. “Damn snakes,” he muttered. He propped the rifle and his hat by the porch railing as she backed into the house.

      “It’s wet everywhere,” she said. “And cold.”

      Cold sort of snapped him out of his daze. That and the splash of water under his foot spreading across the slate tile.

      “Well, hell.” Distracted by the plumbing problem, he glanced around. “Busted pipe. I warned Vaile about insulating.”

      She stiffened. “The Hunter is here?”

      Josh shook his head. “The Hunters are away. Not sure when to expect them back.” Now that he thought about it, seemed odd they hadn’t mentioned a return date. Now that he thought about that, seemed odd he hadn’t questioned it before.

      First things first. “I need to find that pipe.”

      He edged past the woman. The scent of her—lush and mysterious and dark, like the tiny seep springs in the woods, trickling from rocks and roots—swirled around him. He inhaled, and his boots angled to follow her without his conscious effort.

      In the kitchen, the mini flood washed away his distraction. “Shit.” He dragged one hand through his hair, trying to get his head on straight. “The freeze last night must have broke a pipe.” He crouched by the sink and opened the cabinet underneath. There, right at the wall. “Best to turn off the whole house until we check the rest. Vaile will kill the contractor.” When he turned and straightened, the woman’s face was drawn tight. “Hey there. You okay?”

      He put his hand on her arm. Through the silky fabric, she was cold to his touch. But the spark that leapt between them was hot. Crazy-hot scorching, like his nerves had turned to electrified fence.

      She flinched. When she pulled away, the edges of the veils separated, revealing bloody streaks.

      The water, the spark, everything faded as he took her arm again. “Miss, are you hurt? Where did this blood come from?” Fuck, now that he thought about it, where had she come from? His head seemed all hazy, but he forced himself to concentrate.

      Without touching her again, Josh used the mass of his body to steer her out of the kitchen mess. In the adjoining living room, an overstuffed leather couch faced the valley view. Bunco’s hoof prints had melted into dark circles in the snow, the only sign of life. No tire marks, no ski tracks, no sweep of helicopter blades pushing up snow. How had she gotten here?

      He herded her toward the couch. “Sit.”

      She did and when he took a half step back, she looked up at him, green eyes sparkling. Tears? God, he hoped not.

      Though she had recoiled from his touch before, she reached out and flattened her palm on his groin, just off center from the stamped bronze of his belt buckle. It was his turn to jump. “What—?”

      The intensity of her gaze pinned him as effectively as her hand. “Where is the Hunter?”

      Distracted again—hoo boy, was he distracted—by her hand so close to his fly, he shook his head and tried to pretend she wasn’t touching him. “Vaile and Imogene said they were going...somewhere. For...awhile.” Everything seemed vague lately. His body was reacting to the woman’s innocent touch as if he’d been alone forever...

      “What do you know of the Hunter?” Though her hand trembled, her tone held an irresistible insistence.

      But he reacted more to the fear she tried to hide—and the bloody bandages wrapped under the sleeve of her flimsy dress—than the demand in her voice. “Vaile is a good guy,” Josh said gently. “If you need a safe place to stay, he’ll give it to you.”

      She shook her head, and the smooth darkness of her hair slid forward over her shoulders. “There is only one place for me, and I can’t go back.”

      From his standing position, Josh looked down—inadvertently, helplessly—at the upper curves of her breasts and the shadow between revealed by the shifting veils. Only one fragile lacing seemed to hold the thing together. He stepped back before her hand on his thigh triggered greater embarrassment for them both.

      The woman’s gaze arrowed up to him. “I need to find the Hunter.”

      “You can wait until they get home, but you won’t have any water except what you pump from the well. And you’ll be cold as a witch’s...” His face heated, and the words popped out of him. “You can wait for them at my place.”

      Her eyes widened—so did his; he couldn’t believe he just offered this gorgeous creature a bunk—then narrowed with judgment. He knew he’d be found wanting. He always was.

      “Very well.” She pushed to her feet—was she wearing gold slippers?—which put the top of her dark head below his chin, but she never dropped her gaze. “Take me there.”

      Imperious little thing. Misgivings nipped at him. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t leave her there alone. Really, taking her back with him was the neighborly thing, the only thing he could do.