Free Lone Star Lonely by MAGGIE SHAYNE

that
towel.”
    “Yeah. Hang in there a minute and I’ll fix
that.”
    He scooped the chicken and vegetables onto a
plate, grabbed up a fork and set it all in front of her. “I won’t
bother heating it up. I doubt you’d notice, anyway.”
    She smiled and dug in. Chewed, licked her
lips and started shoveling.
    “I take it that means you like it?”
    “Mmm,” she said with her mouth full.
    He poured her a glass of milk and placed it
on the table. “Be right back.” She only nodded and kept on eating,
oblivious, he thought, to anything else.
    Adam went to the foyer, where he’d dropped
his overnight bag when he’d come in. Taking it to the nearest
bathroom, he tossed on some dry clothes and carried the wet ones
back into the kitchen with him. It took him only five minutes. But
when he got back, it was to find Kirsten facedown on the table
beside an empty plate and a drained milk glass. And he guessed she
was down for the count this time.
    “Come on, princess. Time for bed.” He picked
her up again. She was warm and totally limp in his arms. He carried
her up to her bed, tucked her in and stationed himself in the
overstuffed chair nearby. He didn’t expect her to get up and go
wandering off during the night—unless it was to the bathroom to
lose her dinner. But he figured he’d best err on the side of
caution as long as Joseph Cowan’s killer was on the loose.
    He would like to pin a medal on the guy who’d
murdered the rich old bastard. But he would be damned if he let him
get his hands on Kirsten.
    Adam settled into the chair and tipped his
hat down over his eyes. But sleep didn’t come easy, and when it
did, it was far from peaceful. He dreamed of Kirsten. Not the
sophisticated rich man’s wife, but the fun-loving girl he’d been
hell-bent on marrying. Then he saw her lying on her back, eyes
unblinking and cold, beneath that disgusting old man. He saw
Cowan’s hands on her. His mouth on her. Saw the light that used to
be in her big brown eyes slowly die.
    She’d never loved the man. She’d never loved
any man but him. So why had she married Cowan? For the love of God,
why?

    Kirsten woke up and wondered why her mouth
felt so dry and sticky. Then she moved, and her head swam and her
stomach writhed. She slammed her eyes closed, because the
brightness hurt. “Oh, God, I’m dying,” she moaned.
    “Nah. Just hung over.”
    She opened one eye. Adam stood beside her bed
with a big glass of what looked like tomato juice in one hand.
Damn, he was still here. “Why am I not surprised?” she
muttered.
    “Here. Drink this. Guaranteed cure for what
ails you.”
    She took the glass, sat up very slightly,
sniffed it. “What’s in it?”
    “That’s a secret. Wes would shoot me if I
gave away his recipe.”
    She blinked. Adam’s brother Wes used to be a
hellion. If anybody would know about curing a hangover, she would
bet on him. “I don’t usually drink something if I don’t know the
ingredients.”
    “Well, you knew the ingredients of that Jack
Daniel’s last night, and I don’t see that it did you much good.”
She frowned at him. Her head throbbed. Adam went on. ‘“Course, if
you’d rather feel like hell all day….”
    She tipped the glass to her lips. It was
good. Tasty and tangy, even though her stomach rebelled at the
first swallow. She forced it down, motivated by the dim hope of
relief. God, her head was spinning in the most sickening way.
    She set the empty glass on the nightstand.
And then realized she was wearing her favorite flannel granny gown
and didn’t remember putting it on. Uh-oh. Lifting her head slowly,
she searched Adam’s face for a telltale satisfied smile but saw no
clue. “I…um… don’t remember much that happened last night.”
    “We made out in the hot tub, and then I took
you to bed.”
    “We…?”
    He grinned and sent her a wink. He didn’t
look like a man who hated her guts. But she knew Adam too well to
think he would have engaged in sex with a woman