HisBootsUnderHerBed Read Online Free Page B

the one who needs an escort, Fraser.”
    Garth broke into laughter. “Maybe you’re right. But I’ll see you home just the same.”
    She shrugged. “As soon as I square up with Mo.”
    She dumped the contents of the velvet pouch on the table and divided it. Mo scooped up his half.
    “You running your own business on the side?” Mo asked.
    “What does that mean?”
    “All this talk about saving yourself for the right man. I’m thinkin’ you might be whorin’ at your place.”
    “Sure, with Pop right in the next room,” she scoffed.
    “Since when would Paddy turn away from the chance to make an easy buck?”
    She wanted to scratch the leer off his ugly face. “Aren’t you a little confused, boss? You’re the pimp—not Pop.”
    Garth followed her out the door.

3
    O nce again a misty fog shrouded the night. Drops of moisture coated her bare arms, and Rory was unable to thwart the shiver that riffled through her.
    “Cold?” Garth slipped an arm around her shoulders and drew her protectively against his side. She cuddled gratefully against the welcome warmth of his body, and suddenly felt warm—very warm.
    “Delivered safe and sound,” he said when they reached her door. “I guess this is where we say good night, Rory.”
    “The least I can do is invite you in to get rid of the chill—but don’t think it’s more than that.”
    “That’s an offer too good to refuse,” Garth said, and stepped in behind her.
    After lighting the lamp, Rory hurried over to the door of her father’s room for a quick inspection, then closed the door and rejoined him.
    “Pop’s asleep,” she said.
    “How’s he feeling?”
    “He seems to be over the worst of it, and insists he’s getting out of bed tomorrow.” Smiling fondly, she shook her head. “Oh, he’s a terrible patient. He won’t take one word of advice and will not admit he’s getting too old for the shenanigans he once tried.”
    “How old is he?”
    “He admits to being sixty, which makes me believe it’s closer to seventy. In the past ten years he seems to have lost a year every time his birthday was mentioned.”
    Once again she shook her head of blond curls that his fingers were itching to get into. The intimacy of the dim lamplight, her nearness, her faint scent of lavender began to arouse him.
    “Well, I guess I better leave.”
    “Where are you staying, Garth?”
    “I thought I’d bed down at the livery where my horse is stabled.”
    Rory arched a curved brow. “You’re the last person I’d expect to bed down in a livery.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “You don’t act like the other saddle bums who pass through town.”
    “Is that so? What’s so different about me?”
    “Your bearing, manners, and education. You’re no cowboy, Garth Fraser. That accent of yours reflects thoroughbreds, not mustangs, and maybe a dairy cow or two, not a cattle herd.”
    He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wall. “Very intuitive, Miss O’Grady.”
    “I don’t need intuition to know you don’t smell like a cowboy. They all smell like horses; I swear none of them have ever seen the inside of a bathtub.”
    “As long as there’re streams and rivers, a man doesn’t need a bathtub. I found that out enough times during the war and the trek west.”
    “Well, I do ,” Rory declared. “Nothing feels as good to me as sinking into a tub of hot water.”
    “Dare I hope that’s an invitation, Miss Rory O’Grady?”
    “Definitely not.”
    “You don’t know what you’re missing,” he teased. “I’ve been told I’m a great back scrubber, honey.”
    “No doubt, but I’m in no need of a back scrubber.”
    “Well, maybe next time.” He picked up a book lying on the table. “I’ve noticed you with a book when you’re not dancing. Do you enjoy reading?”
    “Yes, I do. But due to little time and money, I have few opportunities to buy a book.”
    “Well, when I hit my strike, you’ll be able to buy all the books