Free Showdown at Lizard Rock by Sandra Chastain

on himself.
    “At the time it didn’t seem like a very smart idea,” he answered. “I was taught in high-school history that consorting with the enemy is called treason.”
    “What do you call this situation tonight?” She bit her lip to hold back a nervous giggle. She never giggled. She never even had to consciously keepherself from giggling. But then, she’d never been half dressed in a small trailer with a man like King Vandergriff before.
    He grinned crookedly. “This, Ms. Smith, is a temporary truce for humanitarian purposes.”
    “You mean humanitarian as in rescuing Harold and giving him meaningful work?”
    “Exactly.” He turned to face her. “And humanitarian as in feeding the homeless and taking in pregnant donkeys.”
    “Where does it say that kissing is a humanitarian act?” she asked quietly.
    His eyes gleamed with amusement. “On the third page of the book on humanitarianism. Didn’t you study that in school?”
    “Of course. In the history text it’s right after the page that says feed and—”
    “Clothe,” he interjected. “Feed and clothe the enemy in order to create diplomacy. I’ve done my part. When are you going to do yours?”
    “Mine? Oh, yes. Feed the enemy.” She stood nervously, tightening the belt of the velour robe.
    “Whoa, darlin’. The kind of care
this
enemy craves doesn’t have to do with food.” He paused and his expression became serious. “It’s physical and emotional. And I don’t know what to do about it. Kaylyn … something’s happening here, something very special. I’m not at all sure what we ought to do about it.”
    She tried desperately to sound nonchalant. “What’s happening is that you’re offering shelter to a rain-soaked woman.” She changed the subject. “Sounds like the rain is tapering off. Maybe Luther and Sandiwill be able to get the van over here in the morning, after all.”
    “Why? Do they need food and clothing too? Or … 
I
know. Luther is the father of Sandi’s unborn child, and Sandi has been turned out of the Pretty Springs Girls’ Reformatory. She’s in disgrace and broke, and Luther is bringing her to you because you’re the most tenderhearted person he knows.”
    “My, my, Mr. Vandergriff! What an active imagination you have!” Kaylyn laughed. “Luther is seventy-seven years old, and Sandi is only twenty-nine. She is neither pregnant
nor
his girlfriend. At least I don’t think so. She went out with your foreman last night, so I can’t be sure, of course.”
    “She went out with Mac? Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
    “Mac is very nice, King, and so is Sandi.”
    “I’m very nice,” he said slyly. “And
you’re
very nice. Maybe
we
should go out on a date.”
    She made a gentle huffing sound that dismissed his teasing. “Don’t you want me to heat up the soup for you?”
    “No, Kaylyn.” He walked over to her, put his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her very lightly, as thought he’d just discovered kissing and wanted to be careful not to bruise her mouth. “What I want,” he whispered, “is to love you, to take that robe off that sweet body and put my seal of approval on every inch of you. What I want is to wake up in the morning with you in my arms. What do you want, Kaylyn?”
    “No, King, no,” she said shakily, stepping back. “We can’t do this. What I want is to save the springs, finish the section for wild animals we’re building over at the animal shelter, and start a mission for the homeless. The only personal thing I want is …”
    “You want something for yourself? Just name it, Katie, and I’ll give it to you tonight.”
    “I’m afraid it’s not a good idea,” she muttered.
    “Speak, speak,” he ordered in a deep, teasing voice.
    She sighed. “What I really want,” she admitted, “is for someone to rub lotion on my poison ivy.” What she really wanted was for King to make good on every sensual word he’d spoken, but she wouldn’t allow herself to think