She nodded, then turned sideways and said, “Travis?”
He kept his eyes on her face, while she clutched the ends of that shirt together in front of her.
“Thank you.”
“I’d say anytime, Red, but…well…”
“I know,” she said.
“So, I’m going to walk out this door. Right now. Lock it behind me.”
And then he was gone.
She locked the door with a trembling hand, slipped out of her shirt and her bra and into that blissfully warm tub.
Warmth slowly seeped into her cold body—life, heat finally.
She let her head fall back against the tub, her whole body immersed in blessed warmth.
He was right. This was a fabulous tub, about two feet deep and more than long enough for her to stretch out in. She let the tub fill almost to the brim, then cut off the water, rolled up a towel and put it over the rim to cushion her neck. She leaned back in absolute bliss and decided this was the best bath she’d ever had in her life.
She could have thoroughly enjoyed it if she had been able to think of anything but him. How kind he was mostly, how tenderly and gently he’d taken care of her, like she was the most precious thing in the world to him.
Which she wasn’t. She knew it.
So that kindness, the tenderness, the care…That was just…Who he was? A part of him?
Travis Foley?
No one would ever believe her if she tried to tell anyone that. At least, no one she knew.
Yet she couldn’t imagine anyone taking better care of her.
Paige let her eyes drift closed as her muscles went slack and soft from the heat. The bathroom smelled faintly of him, a hint of spices and some indefinable thing she’d smelled when she had had her face pressed against his skin.
It was blissfully warm, the first time she’d truly been warm in days.
Her body was slowly coming back to life, her mind was filled with lazy, sensual thoughts of him. Him somewhere in this house, stripping off his wet clothes. He’d be impatient, methodical, almost mechanical, and she thought under the circumstances he’d opt for a quick, hot shower.
She groaned, imagining what he’d look like stepping into a shower, the sight of the water running down his sun-browned skin, all those lovely muscles and that dark hair on his head and his chest.
She could see his hands, lathered with soap, running impatiently up and down his body, and then see him stepping out of the shower, unselfconsciously, gloriously naked.
She wished she could be there to dry him off, taking her time, being as careful with him as he’d been with her and then pressing her body to his.
He’d kiss her hungrily, as he had that night on the ground near the mine with the storm raging, and there wouldn’t be any reason to hold back.
They were safe and warm in his house, behind a locked door, and they could shut out the world if they wanted to.
She groaned, her body remembering everything.
How was she going to forget?
Travis was just outside the door, having taken a quick shower, dressed and come back with some clothes Marta had found that might fit Paige.
He’d been getting ready to knock when he heard a soft, sexy groan from inside that stopped him cold.
“Ah, God,” he muttered, leaning his forehead against the closed door, thinking he could happily beat his head against the wall right now to stop thinking the things he was thinking, wanting the things he wanted.
All that subtle sexual tension of the ride here, carrying her inside, undressing without trying to do anything but simply undress her and get her into that tub so she could warm up. Honestly, he’d tried so hard to do nothing but that, to not make her feel uncomfortable in any way. And the whole time, he’d kept fighting the feeling that she was every bit as aware of him as he was of her. He’d thought that, but he hadn’t done anything about it.
And now, this one, small, sexy sound from her, and he knew he was right. She felt just the same.
It had been sweet torture, having her in his arms today, having her here in his house now, in his room, in his bathtub.
He’d never be able to use the room again without thinking of her there.
“I brought you some clothes,” he said. “I’ll leave them in the bedroom.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
Then he made himself go on. “There’s still a lot of work to be done around the ranch, to make sure the cattle are safe. I’m going out with some of the ranch hands. I’ll probably be gone all day.”
Yes, he’d just run away.
It had to be better than being here with her.
“All right,” she said, like she didn’t want him to leave her.
Damn.
“Just make yourself at home. There’s a library off the den, all kinds of books, a spare computer that Marta uses sometimes hooked up to the Internet by satellite, if it’s working right now. There’s music, a TV, movies…Whatever you want. I’ll see you tonight.”
“You’re going to trust me, here in your house? After you caught me trespassing on your property?” she asked.
“I don’t see that I have a choice. It’s not like I can call the sheriff to come get you. He couldn’t get here anyway, and I’m sure he has more important problems to deal with right now.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“And I’m more worried about the cattle and the ranch than anything you might find in this house. There really isn’t anything to find that I think would help your family against mine. Much as you like to think the entire Foley clan is out to get you and your family, always hatching some new plot against you, we’re not always doing that. I don’t have the time, even if I wanted to. I work a cattle ranch, Red. So I’ll see you tonight.”
And then he had to think of a way to get rid of her somehow.
He had to get her back to her vehicle and get her off this ranch, before he did something he couldn’t take back, something they’d both regret in time.
Chapter Seven
Paige stayed in that tub for a long time, letting the heat settle into her from the outside in and studying the room, all cream-colored and dark gleaming wood. Plain, masculine, yet rich and elegant.
She got out and dried herself off with a giant, fluffy towel and dried her hair as best she could considering there didn’t seem to be a blow-dryer anywhere. So she put her hair in a loose braid and went out into the bedroom.
His bedroom.
Again, she found that same color scheme, cream and dark wood, a big comfy leather chair in the corner, that same clean, masculine decor.
She’d planned on trying to simply ignore the bed, not really wanting to know what it looked like, so she couldn’t picture him in it. But it was on the bed that she found the clothes.
Very expensive-looking suitcases, open on the bed, all full of women’s clothes.
That was interesting.
What kind of man had a house stocked with suitcases of women’s clothes?
She looked over the selection in the first big suitcase.
A young woman’s clothes.