Free Desperado by Sandra Hill Page A

for you?”
    She ignored him, turning to Rafe. “Don’t you think . . .” Her words trailed off, and her jaw dropped.
    The brute was already taking off his clothes, with total lack of modesty, of course. She got a real good rear view of Rafael Santiago in the buff. Her eyes traveled involuntarily from wide shoulders, down the muscled planes of his back, to a narrow waist and slim hips. Over his well-toned, hard buttocks. And long legs covered with soft-as-silk-looking dark hairs.
    Helen liked what she saw. A whole lot.
    He bent and took the bandage off his behind, placing it carefully on a rock.
    Her mouth snapped shut. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice had a shrill, panicky ring to it.
    â€œTaking a bath,” he informed her calmly. “We have to bide our time. Act normal. Wait for the opening. Timing, Helen, remember?”
    â€œRight,” she said, nodding. Maybe I’m the one who’s certifiable .
    â€œCan you throw me the soap?” he called over his shoulder.
    She pretended not to be looking. But she had to look when she tossed him the soap.
    Which was a mistake. Spinning on his heels to face her, he reached out one arm and caught the bar with the ease of a seasoned pro.
    And Helen got a 360-degree picture of the most gorgeous male this side of heaven.
    She tried not to gape. In fact, she squeezed her eyes shut.
    Rafe laughed.
    She peeped.
    Another mistake. Now she got a full frontal view of a man who had a knack for turning her knees to jelly and her brain to mindless, who-cares-if-he’s-a-jerk mush.
    And he knew it. But Rafe wasn’t laughing anymore. Instead, he studied her as intently as she avoided studying him. Then, as if making a sudden decision, he spun around and walked out to the middle of the knee-deep creek. With a splash, he sat down, bringing the water up to his chest.
    â€œGet back to work,” Ignacio yelled at Pablo and Sancho, who’d stopped gathering firewood and preparing dinner to stare at her and Rafe. “Ain’t you never seen a hombre scrub his hairy arse? Heh, heh, heh.”
    â€œWe were just waiting to see if Elena would join him,” Pablo muttered, stomping back to the cook pot. Sancho shuffled off to gather more twigs.
    â€œHey, this is great.” Rafe sighed loudly, beginning to soap his chest and neck, then his face and hair, ducking under the water repeatedly. “How ’bout joining me?”
    Standing near the edge of the bank, Helen shook her head, although she was tempted. Her blouse stuck to her back and underarms. She felt sticky and incredibly hot. “Is it cool?”
    â€œVery. C’mon, Prissy, live a little.” He flicked a handful of water at her playfully.
    She glanced back at the three bandits. They weren’t paying much attention, for the moment. “Well, maybe I’ll just wet my feet.”
    â€œChicken.”
    She took off her boots and socks and rolled up her pant legs. Then she waded into the deliciously cool water. “Ooooh, that feels wonderful.”
    â€œCome closer and I’ll show you something that feels even more wonderful.” His eyes danced playfully.
    â€œBehave.”
    â€œRelax, Prissy. There’s no way we’re gonna get those guns right now. We’ll wait until nighttime when these goofballs fall asleep. Even if one of them guards us, he’ll be less alert.”
    â€œWell, I suppose.” She gave in hesitantly.
    â€œOh, look,” Rafe said suddenly and pointed to the left. In that split second, his hand snaked out under the water, grabbed her ankle, and pulled her forward. She fell backward with a loud splash and went completely under the shallow water. When she came up sputtering, she lunged for him, but he swerved to the side, and this time she went under, face forward.
    She was more careful this time when she emerged, slapping wet strands of hair off her face. “We don’t have time for this