A Little Time In Texas. Joan Johnston
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a different sort of underwear. The camisole top had been loosened where it laced up the front, and he could see the creamy swell of her breasts through the white laces. He watched a bead of water slide down her skin and dampen the cotton.
Below the waist she was wearing some kind of loose knee-length pants that were strictly puritanical. She quickly crossed one arm over her breasts and the other over the delta between her thighs. But it was far too late to keep his imagination from running wild.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” he rasped.
“I didn’t hear you. The water was running. I just wanted—needed—to rinse off some of the dust.”
“Go ahead,” he said. But instead of leaving, he stood there, staring at her.
Angel had seen that kind of hunger in a man’s eyes in the past, but never before had she felt compelled to appease it. She wasn’t sure exactly what was happening to her. It was as though she were caught in another kind of time warp, one where each moment was held suspended, giving her the time to identify each and every thrilling sensation as it occurred. And equal time to become aware of Dallas’s avid response to her slow but steady arousal.
Her breasts felt full and achy.
His eyes lowered and his gaze caused her nipples to harden.
Her mouth felt dry. It was hard to swallow.
His lips parted slightly, to ease breathing that had become harsh to the ear.
She pressed her thighs together, to hold on to the warmth and wetness that had mysteriously appeared between her legs.
His nostrils flared for the scent of her. A muscle worked in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.
She felt her body arching toward him, thrusting breasts and hips forward in a way that begged him to touch.
His lids lowered over lambent eyes. His body tensed, muscles tautening with barely restrained need.
Dallas was a man who appreciated beautiful women. But never had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted Angel. His hand reached out and cupped her breast, and he had the satisfaction of hearing a groan of pleasure deep in her throat.
His thumb brushed across her nipple, creating a vivid peak beneath the cloth. “I can’t believe this is really happening,” he murmured. “What force of nature brought you here?”
Angel came to her senses and took a step back. When Dallas started to reach for her again she warned, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’ve had to defend myself from forward men once or twice in the past. You wouldn’t escape unscathed.”
Dallas throbbed, he was so aroused. But the hellion before him had made it plain he would be lucky to escape with his life if he tried touching her again.
“It seems a tease is still a tease whatever century she comes from,” he accused.
Angel had pushed reality away for a moment, but now it was back with a vengeance. Before her stood a very angry, very frustrated man. “I’m not a tease! I came in here alone to rinse off some of the trail dust. If you’ll recall, you’re the one who came barging in unannounced.”
“You didn’t send me away,” he pointed out.
“You’re right. That was a mistake I won’t make again. I’ll have your apology and you can go,” she said.
He swore under his breath. “When hell freezes over.”
They were at a stalemate.
It was plain from the look on Dallas’s face that he didn’t believe Angel was innocent of purposefully trying to entice him. But it was the truth. Angel had no explanation for her unusual behavior. Exactly what had happened, anyway? Was it possible the Texas Ranger had cast some sort of spell over her? Had something been invented in the twentieth century to aid in the seduction of innocent virgins? She shuddered at the thought.
“You’re cold,” Dallas said, misinterpreting her reaction. He reached to grab a man-sized towel from the nearby rack, and she stepped back until she hit the tile wall. It wasn’t nearly far enough.
“Keep your distance, Ranger, and we’ll get along fine.”
A flash of irritation crossed his face. “I only thought you might want to dry off a little,” he said, extending the towel at arm’s length.
“Thank you,” she said, taking it from him with exaggerated dignity. “You may leave now.”
Dallas had already turned his back when he realized that she had dismissed him. Perversely he wasn’t about to let her have the last word. He stuck out his hand to catch the door before she could shut it in his face.
“I like that mole on your right breast,” he said.
Angel gasped. “You clunch! How dare you—”
“One day I’ll wash it myself. With my tongue.”
He let go, and the door slammed in his face. Dallas grinned as he listened to the unique imprecations she muttered behind the door. She was stubborn, all right, and opinionated. She also had gumption. That didn’t mean he was going to take any more guff from her. He was responsible for her, and by God she was going to do as she was told!
Angel leaned her forehead against the door, fistfuls of the towel clutched against her bosom. What an impossible man! How could he have mentioned something so personal? She couldn’t stand him! He was horrible! Dealing with him was like being up the same tree as a grizzly. How could she be so attracted to someone so intolerable?
She sighed and turned to look at herself in the mirror. The problem was, sparks flew whenever she got near him. That was going to have to stop. She wasn’t sure how she’d been propelled into the future. But she had business that needed finishing in the past.
Angel reached down and pulled a paper out of the pocket of her trousers. She unfolded it and looked at the image printed there. Across the top of the paper was the caption WANTED. She stared at it for another moment, her lips flattened in a bitter line. Then she folded the poster and put it away again. Likely the Ranger wouldn’t approve if he found out where she had been heading. But what Dallas Masterson didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
She twisted the knobs on the tub the way Dallas had shown her. As long as she was in the future, she might as well take advantage of the opportunity to get a hot indoor bath. Sometime soon she was going to have to go back where she had come from.
3
Dallas paced the floor of the living room most of the night, trying to decide what he should do next. The several times he checked on Angel, she was sleeping like a baby in his bed. It was easy to see how serene she was, because she had asked to keep the bedside lamp on. He wondered why she was so afraid of the dark and whether there was any way to help her get over her fear. The fact he was so concerned worried him. It wasn’t a smart move to get any more involved with her than he already was.
Unfortunately, knowing the smart move and making it were two entirely different things.
When Dallas awoke in the morning, he was draped half on and half off the Victorian sofa. Someone—it must have been Angel—had thrown the quilt from his bed over him. The smell of perking coffee permeated the room. He slowly sat up, stretching kinks out of knotted muscles as he went.
“Oh. I didn’t know you were awake. I borrowed some of your clothes. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Angel stood before him wearing a western shirt from his closet and a clean pair of his jeans, folded up at the ankle and tied with the same rope he’d seen around her waist the previous day. Her hair fell over her shoulders practically to her waist. She looked more fragile this morning, dressed in his oversize clothes. The feeling of protectiveness arose even stronger than before. He ignored it and focused on the coffee cup she held in her hands. “I see you figured out how to work the stove.”
She