Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) by Pamela BAUER Read Free Book Online Page A

his mouth, and she shoved the potatoes inside.
    When he winced she asked, “You don’t like them?”
    “They taste good, ma’am, it’s just that it hurts to swallow.”
    Gabby gave him a sip of the tea. “Here. Drink this. It’ll make your throat feel better.”
    Wood did as he was told. Gabby fed him a couple more scoops of the potatoes before his eyes drifted shut. “Alfred?” she repeated his name several times, but he didn’t answer.
    “Do you think he’s all right?” Jeremy asked in an anxious whisper.
    “Gabby, how sick is this guy?” Hannah came closer to the bed.
    “He said he doesn’t need a doctor,” Gabby answered.
    “Well, he looks awful.”
    “Did you bring the thermometer?” Gabby asked.
    Hannah nodded and handed her a narrow plastic case.
    “He’s waking up, again,” Jeremy announced.
    “I’d better take his temperature,” Gabby removed the thermometer from its case and shook it.
    “Dry.” Wood’s voice was barely above a whisper.
    “Mom, he needs a drink of water,” Jeremy remarked.
    Hannah reached for the plastic tumbler. She watched long-lashed eyes slowly awaken. They were dark brown, full of slumber plus uncertainty. When they met Hannah’s, they widened and she felt something tumble in her stomach. She had never seen anyone with such startling eyes. This guy did for brown eyes what Paul Newman did for baby blues. Hannah didn’t understand how a man covered with dirt and looking like something that had been sleeping under the highway overpass could send a tremor of excitement through her.
    Yet he did. Hannah figured it was more like fear than excitement. Neither feeling was welcome. She needed no man to stir any emotions in her, especially not one who looked like a bum.
    “I need to talk to—” Wood began, only to fade away as his strength ebbed once more.
    “Take a drink of water, Mr. Dumler,” Hannah ordered, lifting the cup to his lips.
    He sat forward, then took a sip. Those dark brown eyes regarded her with a cautious scrutiny. “Hannah....” He fell back against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut in pain.
    “That’s the second time he’s asked for me,” Hannah whispered to Gabby, who shrugged innocently. Uneasiness had Hannah taking a step backward.
    Again Wood cried out her name, “Hannah.”
    It was such a tormented sound, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. Whatever troubled him, he was in no state to deal with it this evening.
    “Look, Mr. Dumler, try to rest. We can talk tomorrow,” she told him, the helplessness in his face evoking all sorts of conflicting emotions in her. Curiosity, pity, annoyance... and to her dismay, sympathy. She didn’t want to feel anything toward this man, yet she felt the tug on her emotions as if he were reaching out and touching her.
    When he did reach out and grab her by the wrist, Hannah’s heart skipped a beat. His fingers were hot as they clutched her flesh, and soon she felt that heat travel to the rest of her body. He tried to use her for an anchor so that he could pull himself up, but it was useless. He didn’t have the strength. She pulled free, disturbed by the contact.
    Hannah rubbed her skin where his fingers had been. It tingled—not from the pressure of his grasp, but from something else. His eyes met hers and she couldn’t look away.
    “You have to help me,” he said in a low, husky voice that sent a tremor through her. But even more disturbing than his voice were his eyes. They pinned her with an intensity that held the promise of intimacy. The thought was an uncomfortable one. This man was a stranger and had no right to look at her as if there was some connection between them.
    “You’re not well, Mr. Dumler.” She tried to look away from those compelling brown eyes, but found she couldn’t.
    “Wood,” he murmured.
    “Wood?” Hannah again looked to Gabby for an explanation, but she simply shrugged in ignorance. “What is it you need wood for, Mr. Dumler?”
    He shook his head.