Free Under A Prairie Moon by Madeline Baker Page B

tempted to laugh. The idea of waltzing around the living room with a gunfighter seemed ludicrous somehow, but a moment later she was in his arms. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it. She searched her mind for something to say to break the tension that flowed hot and sweet between them, but nothing came to mind, and she was aware of nothing but the intensity of his eyes and the welcome prison of his arm around her.
    “Where did…” She cleared her throat. “Where did you learn to dance?”
    “Boston. My mother taught me.”
    She nodded, unable to think of a response.
    He held her for several moments after the music ended.
    Kathy took a deep breath, certain she would never be the same again. Taking a step back, she ran a hand through her hair. Every nerve ending in her body was humming with desire.
    Crossing the room, she switched off the radio.
    “Let’s try the sofa over there, against that wall,” she said in her most businesslike tone of voice.
    Dalton nodded. He never should have asked her to dance, he mused ruefully, but it had been the only way he could think of to get her in his arms.
    An hour later, she had the living room arranged to her satisfaction. Standing in the middle of the floor, one finger tapping her chin, she made a slow circle, thinking of what else she needed…a picture over the sofa…something Western, horses, or maybe a sunset. A tall plant for the corner, a lamp for the end table. She would put the entertainment center there, between the two front windows.
    Dalton stood to one side, watching her. It annoyed the hell out of him that he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her, that she filled his every thought. Dancing with her had been a mistake. Now that he knew how good she felt, he ached to hold her again, to run his hands over her skin, to watch her eyes grow dark with passion. Damn.
    “Okay, ready to tackle the bedroom?” Kathy asked, and then could have bitten her tongue. Being in the bedroom with him didn’t seem like such a good idea, but the words had been said and there was no graceful way to take them back.
    Dalton nodded, glad for the distraction, and then wondered why he thought being in a bedroom with Kathy would change the direction of his all-too-lustful thoughts.
    Lawson and Sonny had put the bed frame together before they left, so all Kathy had to do was decide where she wanted it. Finally, she decided to put it catty-corner, with a nightstand on each side, and the dresser against the only wall without a door or a window.
    Dalton stood in the doorway while she made the bed, his gaze lingering on her shapely fanny as she smoothed the sheets. Muttering an oath, he forced himself to admire the room instead. He didn’t know much about decorating, but the room looked good, feminine without being frilly. The dark-blue carpet, the blue print spread, the pale blue walls…it looked nice, homey. His gaze rested on the double bed, imagining her there, imagining himself there, lying beside her, holding her in his arms. Damn and double damn!
    “Well, that’s everything,” Kathy said. “Do you have anything planned for…” She broke off, blushing self-consciously.
    “No,” he replied with a wry grin. “I don’t have anything planned. What’s on your mind?”
    “I thought maybe we’d do some more work on that book.”
    “Sure, if you want.”
    “I’ll have to unpack my computer,” Kathy mused as they left the bedroom.
    “Computer?” He’d heard the word before but had never seen one.
    “It’s like a typewriter.”
    He grunted softly.
    She sat down at the kitchen table, and he took his usual seat across from her.
    “Let’s see, where did we leave off?” She thumbed through her notes, hoping she would be able to read them when she had time to transcribe them. “Why don’t you tell me what it was like, living with the Lakota.”
    Dalton tipped his chair back, his expression thoughtful. “It was a good life. Hard at times, but good.