Free Love, Lies and High Heels by DEBBY CONRAD Page B

the lamp on the bedside table and clicked it on. The lamp bathed the room with a soft yellow glow. Walking to the dresser, he picked up a tray and carried it to the bed. “I brought you some soup and crackers. And a banana.” Without waiting for her response, he wedged the tray around her hips, then sat beside her on the bed.
    Rusty fixed her gaze on him. She could feel the heat from his body seeping through the covers and into her skin. But rather than ask him to leave, she welcomed his body heat and offered him a tentative smile. “Thank you. No one’s ever done anything like this for me.” A shiver ran up her spine.
    “You’re cold. Here, eat this.” He picked up the spoon and dipped it into the bowl. “It’ll warm you up.”
    Before she could tell him she could feed herself, he touched the spoon to her lips, and she opened her mouth. Canned soup. Some kind of rice with chicken broth. She didn’t really want it, but she didn’t want to appear unappreciative. “I can feed myself.” He placed the spoon in her hand and watched her take a bite. She was careful to avoid those penetrating eyes of his as she ate.
    When the bowl was empty, he peeled back the banana, handed it to her and waited until she finished. Then he picked up the tray and walked to the door. “Good night, Princess. Remember, I’m just across the hall, if you need anything. Anything at all,” he added with a grin before pulling the door shut.
    Rusty let her head fall back onto the pillow. She’d made a horrible mistake earlier. He’d kissed her senseless. That was never going to happen again. She was here to take care of her sick father, not to awaken her sexual side. And she was not Galloway’s personal plaything. It was time he understood that.
    Rusty greeted him coolly when he entered the kitchen the next morning. “Good morning, Mr. Galloway.” She opened the refrigerator and stuck her head inside. Probably so she didn’t have to look at him.
    “Good morning,” he muttered, then yawned, reaching for the can of coffee. He busied himself making the second pot this morning.
    He’d tossed and turned most of the night, and just after he’d drifted off to sleep, it had been time to get up. After he’d finished the first pot of coffee, he’d looked in on Sam, then gone out to check on the horses and speak with Garvey and the trainers. He dumped an extra scoop of grounds in the filter and started the machine.
    Turning away from the counter, he found Rusty emptying the refrigerator. She popped the lid from a plastic container, sniffed the contents, then dumped the leftovers in the sink. Above the whir of the garbage disposal and the running water, he shouted, “Can I ask what the hell you’re doing?”
    “I’m making room for some healthy foods,” she said, repeating the same process with another container.
    Luke watched her, but didn’t say anything. Apparently she thought she had the right to come into his home, his and Sam’s home, and toss their food out just because it didn’t appeal to her.
    Why in hell had he let Sam talk him out of his fishing trip? Probably the same reason he’d let him talk him into going after Rusty in the first place. Guilt.
    He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. Right now, he needed caffeine. As soon as the machine stopped percolating, he poured himself a cup and took a huge gulp of the steaming liquid. “Ahhhh,” he said, appreciating the instant jolt, just as Rusty bent over to inspect something on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator.
    Her body stiffened, then straightened before she turned around to glare at him. Obviously she’d assumed that “Ahhhh” had been for her. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
    “Not at the moment.” He took another drink from his cup, leaning his long frame against the counter.
    “Well, then,” she said, picking up a piece of paper from the counter and slapping it into his hand. “You can take care of this.”
    “What’s