starting to feel a little stir-crazy in that bed.”
Standing so close to him with his blue eyes studying her intently, Merrie suddenly became aware of how big Braden McClintock actually was. He filled the doorway, shoulder to shoulder. Had he been wearing his hat, he wouldn’t have made it through without ducking. His dark locks peppered with silver tumbled about his forehead and she itched to run her fingers through it and straighten out the mess. Lighter lines crinkled from the corner of his eyes, showing off his tan. His face was a bit craggy from the years working in the sun and weather, but handsome in a tough, masculine way.
“You want me to help you to the downstairs living room? We have a TV with satellite, so I’m sure you can find something to watch while I whip us up some breakfast.”
“That would be great.”
Braden swooped her up in his arms. She gasped at the suddenness and threw her arms around his neck to balance herself.
“I can walk,” she protested.
“I don’t want you to fall down the stairs.”
“I can make it down the stairs just fine. Besides, I need to put a T-shirt on.”
He turned toward one of the back bedrooms and entered it, setting her on her feet as he rummaged through a dresser drawer. She realized this was his room and looked around. Stark, white walls. Plain, sensible furniture. One picture of a very old family portrait, showing a teenage Braden and Leo standing next to a sitting man and a woman, hung forlornly on the wall. Merrie assumed they were his parents. She wondered if a quarter would bounce on his tightly made bed. Not a single stitch of discarded clothing lay around.
He handed her a T-shirt and spun around, giving her a little privacy. She dropped the towel and slipped the extra-large shirt over her head. After she tugged it down over her hips, the garment’s hem touched her thighs.
“All right,” she said.
He turned around and took in her form, his eyes widening a little. For a long moment, they simply stared at one another. Could he hear how her heart thundered in the silence of the room? Surely her heartbeat echoed through the near-empty chamber, pumping an off-kilter rhythm. What was happening to her? She didn’t want this attraction, so she broke their locked gazes by bending to pick up the damp cloth. He took a step toward her, so close she could smell him—clean and fresh of the wild outdoors with an underlying hint of male spice. Braden took the towel from her, tossed it on the bed then scooped her back up in his arms to head for the stairway.
Up close and personal, she studied his profile—the hard angles and planes that told of a rugged life. A cowboy lived under the sunshine and in the elements. He’d lived most of his life outside and it wasn’t hard to picture him riding a horse across the plains. She liked how he held her, how he cradled her in his arms against his chest, and she had a sudden flash of running her hands over those smooth pectorals. Merrie raised her gaze to his lips and she wondered what they would feel like against hers. Soft? Unyielding? Dominant?
At the bottom of the stairs, he happened to look down at her and froze. She brought her gaze from his mouth up to stare into his crystalline blue eyes. The color rivaled the beautiful Caribbean waters she’d seen in travel magazines.
“Your eyes are gorgeous,” she said.
Braden lowered his lashes and didn’t acknowledge her compliment as he hurried into the living room and placed her gently on the sofa. When he turned to walk away, she grabbed his hand, reluctant to let him go.
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” she said.
“They’re just eyes. Yours are…pretty too.”
“They’re just plain ol’ brown.”
He shifted closer and stared deeply into them. Merrie’s body heated and her heart shifted from beating quickly to full-out hammering.
“No, there are tiny flakes of gold in them,” he murmured. “I’d say they’re more amber than brown.”
She
Learning to Kill: Stories