Free Adella's Enemy by Jacqui Nelson Page A

hands returned to her waist, countermanding his order. “At the worksite you abandoned your camera. Now you don’t even look where it might have gone. But that bag? You care more about it than your own safety.”
    Her gaze returned to him, narrowing. “You become testy over the oddest things. Are you sure you are uninjured?”
    “I’m fine. But you need to get up. I’m taking you to town.”
    “Why not toss me after my valise and return to your precious railroad?”
    “Because I don’t manhandle women, no matter how…” he ground his teeth, “…frustrating they are. Nor do I abandon them on the prairie where anything could happen to them. Not even when they are foolhardy and duplicitous. Now get up. We’re going to town.”
    She didn’t move, just continued staring at him. “You didn’t think it could get any worse than me being English. Well, I’m a lot worse. Sorry to disappoint.”
    “My only disappointment is that you kicked the wheel off our cart.”
    “It was bound to come off sooner or later. I just hurried along the inevitable.”
    “This day couldn’t get any poorer.” He pressed his lips tight to control another petty outburst.
    Her shoulders sagged and she slumped against him as if wounded by his words. Her bosom settled soft against his chest, her pelvis snug over his. She drew back her head. But the rest of her stayed where it was. “Mr. McGrady…Cormac.” Her voice was a throaty purr. His name swirled like a lover’s caress around his ear.
    If he thought having her legs touching his was distracting, it was nothing to having her entire body—minus her bag—stretched out full length on top of him.
    He immediately released her waist. “You’re—” His throat closed up and he cleared it roughly. “You’re in a very compromising situation. I suggest you move for that reason alone. Or do you always seduce men to get what you want?”
    “Right now, I don’t know what I want.”
    He swallowed hard. “Adella, don’t play games with me.”
    “I’m not playing at anything.” Gaze locked on his mouth, she lowered her head. “I’m…”
    She kept leaning closer. All he could do was stare at her. At her lips. Plump and pink and parted. Damn the consequences. He was going to kiss her.
    A soft nicker sounded nearby. Adella glanced toward the noise. The mare had wandered down the slope and stood a handful of strides away.
    Adella’s gaze found his again. “I’m an idiot to let you distract me so completely. I hadn’t even noticed that blasted cart was still around.” Adella’s muscles tensed, preparing for action.
    “ Adella, don’t,” he said, reaching for her again.
    Her knees and elbows suddenly poked him in too many sensitive places. As slippery as a bar of soap, she escaped him and crawled through the mud. So much for assuming she cared about getting dirty.
    He scrambled after her. His fingers snared her skirt. Too late. She waved her hands in the horse’s face, shooing it away. The cart cracked in two. The camera, rope still tangled around it, fell toward the mud. With a gasp, she dove to catch it.
    His hold on her skirt brought her up short. The camera hit the mud with a splash and the mare galloped toward town, probably heading for an oat bucket in the livery.
    Adella glared over her shoulder at him.
    “I hope your camera isn’t broken.” He released her skirt, raising his hand to rake it through his hair. He stopped when he saw the mud covering his fingers. “But if it is, it’s your own doing. And what for? All you’ve accomplished is that rather than riding into town, we’re walking.”
    She turned her profile to him and the furrow lines on her brow slowly smoothed out, retreating behind an impenetrable mask. She retrieved her camera and valise, and sat down crossed legged with them on her lap.
    “What are you doing?” Climbing to his feet, he moved to stand in front of her. “I’m escorting you back to town.”
    Once more, she folded her hands over her