cast a glance at the table, where she’d spread out his clothes. “They’re still damp.”
His gaze skipped down the length of her, taking in her neat and tidy long-sleeved shirt and crisp, very dry jeans. Her boots looked brand spankin’ new. If his clothes hadn’t dried in the time they’d been in the shack, hers should be at least a little soggy, he thought. “Why are you nice and dry?”
She shifted on her feet. “I had a jacket on.”
“So did I.” He nodded to where the jacket hung on a hook by the door. “By the looks of it, it’s still pretty soaked.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he held up a hand to cut her off. “No, don’t tell me. You had an umbrella with you, right? You were wearing a wide-brimmed hat? Your clothes are waterproof?” His tone was sardonic.
Her lips pursed, and sparks of annoyance brightened her eyes. Too bad. He wanted to know exactly what was going on. Something didn’t add up.
She turned away to check the percolating coffee, and when she glanced back at him a moment later his heart stopped for a fraction of a second. Her dark violet-blue eyes hit him like a bolt of lightning, sending a rush of memories of another woman tumbling through him. Her eyes beckoned to him....
He scrubbed an agitated hand down his face.
Get a grip, man! That dream about Amanda is putting silly notions in your head—or the whack to your skull has made you a little crazy!
“I saw an extra set of workclothes in that cupboard,” she offered, and started toward a floor-to-ceiling pantry about three feet wide, stocked with a variety of staples and basic necessities to survive a few weeks secluded in the shack.
He removed the pillow from his lap but kept the blanket around him. “Yeah, for emergencies like this.”
She stood on the toes of her boots and grabbed the neatly folded clothes on a high shelf. “Let’s hope they fit.”
“They should. They’re mine.” He watched her inventory a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, socks, and briefs. “I put the extra clothes there a few years ago after getting caught in a rain storm and didn’t have anything to change into. It gets damn cold in here soaking wet. That woodstove is pretty useless when it comes to heating anything beyond the table.”
She arched a brow, approaching with strident steps that echoed off the floorboards. “Ah, so this isn’t the first time you’ve been in this predicament.”
“As a matter of fact, it is.” He met her gaze. Very softly, with an undercurrent of challenge, he said, “I’ve never been rescued by a woman who seemingly appeared out of thin air.”
A private smile touching her lips, she placed the clothes on the bed next to him. “I suppose an unexpected sleet storm in the middle of a beautiful spring day is a normal occurrence in Idaho?”
He sighed at her attempt to keep the conversation steered away from important questions. “Yes, especially up against the mountains. You’re not from around here, then?”
She shook her head and looked away, but not before he caught a glimpse of mystery in her eyes. “Go ahead and get dressed and I’ll pour you some coffee and make you something to eat.”
He wanted the answers she was avoiding but figured he’d at least have an upper hand in the interrogation if he had some clothes on. He straightened to his full height slowly, careful to keep from aggravating his head. The blanket dropped to the floor and cool air brushed over his skin. The muscles across his belly and chest tensed in response to the shocking caress.
“Don’t turn around,” he warned, reaching for his briefs, “unless you care to get another eyeful.”
“No, thanks.”
While J.T. changed Caitlan fetched a can of stew from the pantry, casting a surreptitious glance his way, even though she’d just declined his invitation to look. She wanted to make sure he was okay,
really
okay, and could dress himself on his own. Reassured that he seemed to be steady on his feet, she told