ChasetheLightning (7 page)

“This is all just…just make-believe?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes. Amazing, isn’t it?”

“That man, he’s not really dead, then?”

“No. They’re just actors, you know, like on stage?”

He nodded, his gaze riveted on the screen. He stayed that
way until the movie was over, then leaned back on the sofa, looking slightly
stunned.

Amanda smiled. She had been stunned at the end of the movie,
too, though probably not for the same reason he was.

She tapped her fingers on the arm of the sofa. What now?
Impossible as it seemed, she actually believed he had somehow come here from
the past. Thank goodness the phone lines had been down. She hated to think what
would have happened to him if she had called the police. No doubt he would
either be in jail for a crime he’d committed over a hundred years ago, or in a
rubber room wearing a straitjacket.

“How on earth did you get here?” she asked.

“I don’t know. One minute Relámpago and I were ridin’ hard,
and the next I was here.”

“Relámpago?”

“My horse.”

“So that’s his name. I’ve been calling him Lightning, you
know, because of that scar on his rump. What does Relámpago mean?”

Trey stared at her, his eyes narrowed. “Lightning.”

She stared back at him as an icy shiver ran down her spine.
“Imagine that,” she said.

He nodded.

Amanda shook her head. There was no reason to feel eerie just
because she had called the horse Lightning, not when it had that zigzag scar on
its flank.

It was nothing more than a coincidence.

“So,” she said brightly, “you expect me to believe you and
your horse were just zapped here?”

“Zapped?”

“You know, just showed up here from out of the blue.”

He shrugged, grimacing as the movement pulled on the wound
in his back.

“Are you all right?” she asked. Leaning forward, she placed
her hand on his brow. “You still have a bit of a fever. I think maybe you
should go lie down for awhile. You look like you could use a nap.”

He nodded. He needed some time alone, he thought, time to
mull over everything he had seen and heard.

“I’ll be in later to check on your wound.”

“I reckon you saved my life. I’m obliged.”

“You’re welcome.”

His eyes were dark, dark brown, intense as they gazed into
hers. She felt a pleasurable shiver steal down her spine, a curling heat in the
pit of her stomach as sexual awareness sprang to life between them. He was tall
and dark and sexy as hell with his tousled hair falling over his broad
shoulders and the beginnings of a beard shadowing his jaw. He looked rough and
dangerous and far too appealing for her peace of mind.

Finding it suddenly difficult to breathe, she inhaled
deeply, let her breath out in a long, shuddering sigh.

A slow smile spread over his face. He was all too aware of
his effect on her, she thought irritably, but she couldn’t deny it. She tried
to tell herself it was nothing. Just a simple case of lust. After all, he was a
ruggedly handsome man, and she was a healthy female. It didn’t mean a thing.
Besides, she was engaged to Rob. She tried to summon Rob’s image, but all she
could see were Trey’s eyes, suddenly heavy-lidded as he watched her.

She felt warm all over, knew her cheeks were flushed.
“Well,” she said briskly. “I think I’ll go and…”

“Running away?” he drawled.

She stood abruptly, angry that he saw through her so easily.
“Of course not. But, I’m…I’m hungry.” They hadn’t had anything to eat except
some ice cream while watching the movie. She picked up their dirty dishes. “I
think I’ll go make a sandwich. Do you want one before you go to bed…” She bit
down on her lower lip, chiding herself for her choice of words. “Before you
take a nap?”

He nodded, his expression telling her she hadn’t fooled him
for a minute.

She didn’t care. She practically ran out of the room.

In the kitchen, she stood with her hands braced on the
counter. She had to get him out of here. Now!

She gasped as a pair of well-muscled arms slid around her
waist and drew her up against a masculine body that was, without doubt, well
aroused.

“What are you doing?” she exclaimed.

“What we both want.” He turned her slowly to face him, his
hands lingering at her waist.

And then he kissed her.

It never occurred to her to push him away.

She closed her eyes, leaning into him as awareness spiraled
through her.

His body was hard and unyielding, cushioning the softness of
her own. He tasted like the chocolate ice cream. Chocolate ice cream and
smoldering desire. It was a potent combination. Heat exploded through every
nerve and cell of her body and she sagged against him, her heart pounding
wildly.

He drew back, his gaze burning into hers. And then he kissed
her again.

She had been kissed before, many times, but never like this,
never with such intensity, such soul-shattering passion. Heat flowed through
her, touching places long cold, leaving her feeling weak and slightly dazed.

When he drew back this time, his breathing was as erratic as
her own.

She looked up into his eyes, her pulse racing, her whole
body on fire, and knew, in that single moment of time, what was missing in her
relationship with Rob.

Trey paced the floor in the bedroom, his bare feet sinking
into the thick rug. He had never been in a home where the floors were
completely covered by anything like this. Expensive hotel lobbies, yes. Houses,
no. But he had never walked through a hotel lobby barefoot. He liked the feel
of the carpet beneath his feet.

The woman, Amanda, had fled the kitchen when he let her go.
He had scared the hell out of her, he thought. Hell, he was feeling a mite
shaky himself. Women had never been a problem for him. Young, old, married,
single, respectable or otherwise, he’d pretty much had his pick, but there was
something about this one. Pain and fever notwithstanding, he had wanted her
from the moment he had first set eyes on her. And he wanted her now.

He stopped at the window and stared out at the rain, the
ache of wanting her momentarily stronger than the ache of his wound. He had
kissed women before, a lot of women, but none of them had ever affected him
like this. He had kissed them and forgotten them. Made love to them and
forgotten them. But Amanda… He closed his eyes, the taste of her still fresh on
his lips, his arms anxious to hold her again.
 He stared out the window. He didn’t belong here. As soon as the rain let up,
he would saddle Relámpago and find his way back home… He grunted softly. He had
no home, but he didn’t belong here, that was for damn sure.

She avoided him the rest of the day, coming to his room only
twice—once to bring his dinner, and again to check on his wound and collect his
dirty dishes.

He sat on the bed after she left, the long night stretching
ahead of him. He wasn’t used to so much inactivity. He could hear her moving
around upstairs, the sound of water running. Did she have a bathtub upstairs,
too? His mouth went suddenly dry at the thought of her sitting amid frothy
bubbles, her luxurious red hair pinned up, her skin flushed from the hot water,
covered with lather…

Damn!

Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by the footsteps
of the thunder people. The fury of the storm seemed to intensify his
restlessness and he prowled through the house, too edgy to sit still. He
switched on a light, switched it off, then on again, marveling that such a
thing was possible. Marveling that he was here, more than a hundred years in
the future. How the hell was he going to get back where he belonged?

Amanda sat back in the tub and closed her eyes. She could
still feel Trey’s mouth on hers, feel his body pressed intimately against her
own. Lord, but that man could kiss! She had always been afraid there was
something wrong with her because, while she enjoyed kissing, it had never set
her on fire. Even with Rob, it had been pleasurable, but never more than that.
Perhaps that was why her sexual encounters had been so few when she was
younger. The boys she had dated in high school had called her cold, a tease,
when the truth was, none of them had made her want more. But this man, this
stranger from the past…one kiss, and she was on fire and aching for more.

Dear Lord, what was she going to do? She had a horrible
feeling that he knew exactly how his kisses had affected her. How was she ever
going to face him again?

She hid out in the bathtub until her fingers and toes were
pruney and the water was cold. She imagined him prowling, cat-like, downstairs,
peeking into the fridge, playing with the lights. She could hear him running
water in the sink. She smiled at his wonder at all things modern. How strange
her world must seem to a man who had lived in a time when women cooked on wood
burning stoves and did their laundry by hand and hung their wash on
clotheslines. Washers and dryers were relatively new inventions. She could
still remember her grandmother hanging her laundry on a line in the backyard.
And electricity—in Trey’s time, light had been provided by candles or lanterns
or maybe gas lights. People had traveled by horse or carriage, or on trains
pulled by steam-driven locomotives.

She grinned as she stepped out of the tub, wondering what he
would think if she took him for a drive in her car. She dried off vigorously,
slipped on her nightgown and a robe, stepped into a pair of slippers, and then
stood there, wondering if she should go downstairs and check on him, or just go
to bed.

She was still undecided when she opened the bathroom door,
gasped in surprise when she saw him leaning against the wall in the hallway,
his arms folded across his chest. His bare chest.

“Good Lord, you scared me!” she exclaimed.

“Sorry.”

“What do you want?”

He pushed away from the wall. “I’m hungry.”

That was a good sign, she thought, though it was hard to
think at all when he was standing so close. So close she could feel his breath
on her face, feel the attraction that hummed between them.

“What…?” She tried to talk, swallowed to ease a throat gone
dry. “What would you like to eat?”

It was a bad choice of words.

Desire flared in his eyes, but he didn't answer, at least
not vocally. Instead, his gaze moved over her, slow, heated, leaving her
feeling naked and vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice low and raspy and
suggestive. “What have you got?”

It was suddenly hard to breathe. Her heart was pounding
wildly. She felt warm all over, her body tingling with anticipation.

He took a step toward her, closing the distance between
them. His gaze held hers, fathomless brown eyes that seemed to see into her
very soul. She could feel the heat radiating from his body.

She licked her lips. “Trey…I…we…”

“Tell me you’re not hungry, too.”

She put her hands against his chest to hold him at bay. Big
mistake. His skin was warm and firm beneath her palms. She fought the urge to
run her hands along his shoulders and down his arms, to run her fingertips over
the taut muscles.

“Are we still talking about food?” She tried to keep her
tone light, and failed miserably.

“We were never talking about food.” His voice moved over her
like lush black velvet, warm and smooth. Desire burned like a dark flame in the
depths of his eyes and with it, the knowledge that his nearness was playing
havoc with her senses.

If he didn’t stop looking at her like that, she was going to
fall into his arms, drag him down on the floor, and beg him to make love to
her.

She jumped when the telephone rang. Saved by the bell, she
thought, wondering when they had fixed the line. She’d been so caught up in
caring for Trey, she’d never thought to see if the phone was working again.

“I’d better get that,” she said, and turning on her heel,
she ran down the hall to her bedroom. She scooped up the receiver, aware that
Trey had followed her, that he was standing in the hallway, waiting. Listening.

“Hello?”

“Hey, ‘Manda. You been working out? You sound all out of
breath.”

“What? Oh, yes, working out.” She took a deep breath, trying
to still the pounding of her heart. “How are you, Rob?”

“I’m doing okay. I’d be a lot happier if I could get a lead
on Bolander. And even happier if I was done with this little job of work and
back there with you. I miss you.”

She hesitated. “Yes, I…I miss you, too.” The words sounded
flat in her own ears.

Rob noticed it, too. There was a loud silence on the other
end of the phone. Then, “Are you all right, Amanda?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. Really. How’s the weather back there?”

“Cold,” he said. “Like this conversation.”

“Rob…”

“I’ll call you tomorrow night,” he said, and hung up.

She stared at the receiver, then gently put it down. When
she turned toward the door, Trey was gone. She hadn’t heard him leave, knew she
didn't dare go after him.

“Oh, Rob,” she murmured. “What am I going to do?”

It was a question that followed her into uneasy sleep that
night, and greeted her in the morning. What was she going to do about Trey?

Rising, she dressed in jeans, a heavy sweater and a pair of
boots, and went downstairs. The rain had stopped during the night; the sky was
a bright clear blue, the trees around the homestead a vibrant green, their
leaves sparkling with raindrops. The rolling desert lands beyond glimmered in
the sunlight, and she saw random bursts of color where winter-blooming flowers
had responded to the life-giving moisture.

Trey was nowhere to be seen. Probably still asleep, she
thought as she went out the back door, headed for the barn.

The big double doors were open. She heard Trey’s voice
coming from inside the barn and after her eyes adjusted to the shadowy
interior, she saw him standing beside the stallion’s stall, one arm draped over
the stud’s neck.

She didn’t think she had made any noise, but Trey glanced
over his shoulder as soon as she entered the building.

“Mornin’,” he drawled.

“Good morning.” He looked every inch the cowboy. The brown
plaid shirt complemented his hair and emphasized the color of his eyes. His
jeans fit well enough, though they weren’t cut as snugly as today’s designer
jeans. Perhaps she would buy him a new pair…

“Were you looking for me?” he asked.

“No. I just came out to feed your horse, but I see you’ve
done that,” she replied, and turned to go.

For a man who was still recovering from a bullet wound, he
was remarkably quick. She hadn’t taken more than a step or two toward the door
when his hand closed on her arm. “Don’t go.”

Her skin tingled where his skin touched hers. “I need to fix
breakfast.”

“It can wait.”

She didn’t resist when he turned her to face him. She tried
not to notice how handsome he was, the way his dark eyes seemed to glow when
they looked at her. She had never liked hairy men, but the beard roughening his
jaw gave him a rugged, sexy look, and she had an almost irresistible urge to
run her hand through his hair, to feel the thick strands slide through her
fingers.

“You ran away from me last night,” he said. “Why?”

“I didn’t run away. I had to answer the phone.”

He looked at her, one brow arched.

“I didn’t!” she insisted. “Oh, all right, maybe I did,” she
said when he remained silent.

“Why?”

She lifted her chin. “Because you scare me.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Really? I
wonder why.”

“You know why. Now, let me go.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he murmured, and lowering his head,
he kissed her.

She could have avoided him easily. After all, he was still
weak from his wound. She had taken a self-defense class at the Y. She knew how
to protect herself. But, somehow, all thought of resistance fled the moment his
mouth touched hers. She swayed against him, her arms wrapping around his waist,
her hands moving restlessly up and down his broad back. He groaned low in his
throat. It took a minute for her to realize the sound was edged with pain not
passion.

“I’m sorry.” She drew away. “Your wound…I forgot…”

He grinned at her. “You need to cut those nails.”

She blushed to the roots of her hair, embarrassed by the way
she had melted in his arms. A look, a kiss, and she was like putty in his
hands.

And then he was kissing her again, his mouth slowly seducing
hers, filling her mind with vivid, full-color images of the two of them
writhing on her bed amid tangled sheets.

“Stop,” she gasped.

He drew back, his deep brown eyes smoldering. “You don’t
mean that.”

“Yes, I do. I can’t breathe.”

He smiled, a look brimming with masculine self-satisfaction.
“Guess we’d better slow down a little.”

She shrugged out of his embrace. “I think…” She drew in a
shaky breath. “I think I’d better go fix breakfast.”

“Sure,” he said, a knowing gleam in his eye.

Turning on her heel, she left the barn, acutely conscious of
his gaze on her back.

He entered the kitchen a short time later, sniffed
appreciatively. “Smells good.”

“Thank you.” She gestured at the table. “Sit down, it’s
ready.”

He sat down, automatically putting his back to the wall.
“You’re gonna spoil me.”

She was pretty sure women had been doing that ever since he
learned how to smile.

She served him waffles, eggs, bacon and orange juice, filled
a plate for herself, and sat down across from him. Waffles, she thought. She
never made them for herself.

“You’re a helluva cook,” he remarked.

“Thank you.”

“I reckon you’re good at just about everything,” he said,
his voice silky soft.

She had no doubt at his meaning. Heat spiraled through her,
pooling deep in the core of her being.

This was ridiculous, she thought irritably. She was a grown
woman, but she was behaving like a starry-eyed teenager with her first crush.
Probably because that was exactly how she felt.

She watched him eat, fascinated by his hands. They were big
and brown, with long fingers and square nails. She imagined them holding a
gun…imagined them sliding over her bare skin….

She shook her head. Enough was enough! The man was a bank
robber, for crying out loud, not Antonio Banderas! She smiled faintly. He had
eyes like Antonio’s…dark and smoldering, filled with secrets that begged to be
discovered.

“Amanda?”

“What?”

“I’d like to see more of your world.”

“Oh, sure. We can go into town in a few days, if you like.”

“Why can’t we go today?”

She frowned. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Okay, we can go today, whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll need my gun.”

“You don’t need it here.”

“Like hell.”

“Well, you don’t. Men don’t go around wearing six-guns these
days.”

“No?” he asked dubiously.

“No. Besides, I’m not stupid enough to let a stranger have a
gun in my house.”