Free MM01 - Valley of Fire by Peggy Webb Page A

lip. “It looks so uncomfortable down there.”
    “It's not my idea of a perfect place to sleep, but it will do.”
    She patted the mattress. “It seems a shame.” She glanced at Rick, who was still standing on the other side of the bed. “After all, you did spend last night sleeping on the rocks.”
    “So did you.”
    “It's a big bed.”
    “It is.”
    “I suppose you could stay on your side.”
    “And you could stay on yours.”
    “We could even put a divider in the middle, a rolled up sheet or something.”
    “A Wall of Jericho.”
    She knew exactly what he was talking about, for she loved old movies. It had been a while since she'd seen Clark Gable in It Happened One Night, but she distinctly remembered the night the Walls of Jericho came tumbling down.
    She lifted her chin. “We're both adults. We don't need a Wall of Jericho. We’ll just agree to stay on opposite sides of the bed.”
    He grinned. “A gentleman's agreement.”
    “Precisely.”
    He hurried around the bed. She backed against the wall.
    “I always seal my bargains, Mrs. O'Grady.”
    “I know.”
    Grinning, he stuck out his hand. “With a handshake. Remember?”
    “Of course. I was just resting.” She leaned against the wall a while longer and even threw in a big yawn for effect, then she took his hand.
    The handshake was brief and firm and businesslike.
    “Well, now. That's done. Since I'm a gentleman, I'll let you undress first.”
    “Undress?”
    “You don't plan to sleep in your clothes, do you?”
    “Of course not. Velma lent me a gown.”
    “I'll turn my back while you change.”
    He did. She changed into the gown, which was not much better than being naked, and slid quickly under the sheets.
    “All finished,” she said.
    He turned back around. “How's the bed?”
    “Comfortable.” She pulled the covers up to her chin.
    “Cold?” Rick began to unbutton his shirt.
    “No.... Yes. That's the funny thing about these nights in the desert. You can be burning up one minute and freezing the next.”
    “I'm willing to warm you up.” He peeled off the shirt and reached for his belt buckle.
    “No!” She fanned the sheets. “Actually, I'm a little hot.” He gave her a knowing grin. She decided to change the subject. “Did Clyde give you pajamas to sleep in?”
    “I'm afraid not, pet. Anyway, I don't wear pajamas.”
    “You don't?”
    “I sleep in the nude.”
    She suddenly wished she had put up a Wall of Jericho.
    “But don't worry,” Rick added. “Since I'm in bed with a married lady, I'll keep my shorts on.”
    “You had better.”
    “At least for a little while.”
    When he began to slide his pants down over his hips, she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the gossamer curtains being drawn back, felt the mattress sag, and heard the bedsprings creak. There was a small swishing sound as Rick dropped the curtain and settled down into bed.
    He stretched and yawned under the guise of getting comfortable, but she figured he was doing all that movement to get her attention. She kept her eyes shut, her legs pressed tightly together, and her hands straight down by her sides. It was as relaxing as being on the stretching rack during the Spanish Inquisition.
    His foot touched hers. “Excuse me.”
    “Certainly.” She jerked her foot away.
    He rolled over in the bed. His hand brushed against her shoulder. She couldn't move away without falling off the bed, so she waited for him to move his hand. Goose bumps popped out on her arm, and she prayed to be rescued from her own feelings.
    “Sorry.” He was as slow as molasses in December moving his hand, and when he did, he dragged it down the whole length of her arm. She hoped he didn't feel her goose bumps.
    He finally settled down on his side of the bed, not touching, and she tried to relax. It was impossible. Even the sound of his breathing bothered her. Not that it was unpleasant. On the contrary. She found it extremely pleasant, reassuring even.
    She turned her back to him,