Free Wild Rain by Donna Kauffman Page B

to hissystem if one glance at her scrawny little butt had him wondering just how soft that mattress was?
    “Come on, you tight little …”
    The rest of her entreaty degenerated into swearing mixed with heated grunting as she pulled on the recalcitrant sheet. Damn, but she made him want to smile.
    “Where’d you learn to swear like that, anyway?” he asked as he hopped into the room and grabbed the opposite corner.
    “Alaska.” She grunted and gave a mighty tug at the same moment Reese freed the other corner, sending her sprawling back into the center of the bed with the linens tangled between her legs.
    It was all Reese could do not to crawl right in on top of her.
    Well, hell, he thought, irritated with his body’s insistent response to her, maybe he should just do it. Do it and get past it. He was probably going to die in the storm anyway. Maybe that was the problem. His body sensed the end was near and was simply demanding one last go round.
    Jillian glanced up and caught his look, then hastily wadded up the sheet and tossed it to the floor. The speed with which she scrambled off the bed had him wondering if he’d spoken his thoughts out loud.
    It was just as well she put an end to his wild notion before he gave it any serious consideration. He stifled a sigh as he bent at the waist to heave the mattress to one side. If he was going to come andgo in one day, he’d like to leave with a big satisfied grin on his face.
    He wasn’t sure Jillian had the proper equipment—or experience—to give him that eternal smile.
    He was distracted from his thoughts when she bent low over the mattress directly across from him to help shove. The position gave him a clear view straight down the front of her shirt.
    Well, what do you know, he noted, taking in the view without a flicker of remorse, she did have boobs after all.
    “You gonna stand there all day staring down the front of my shirt or are we going to move this mattress?”
    Reese looked up at her, expecting the harsh expression her voice indicated he’d find. It was there. But mixed in with the flippant I-could-give-a-damn look was a thread of pained vulnerability that shook him up more than he cared to admit. Didn’t she know survivors never revealed their weaknesses? Especially to a man like him?
    His gaze dropped from her tempest-filled eyes, past her pressed-together lips, then with a will of its own, on down to the peep show below.
    But it was when he noticed the white-knuckled grip she had on the mattress pad that he felt his face heat. He’d been ogling her like a man sizing up the interior of a new car, debating on whether to take it for a test drive.
    Which was perfectly in character for him. Sowhy was he blushing for the first time in his thirty-three years?
    He abruptly turned his attention back to the task at hand. He’d obviously overtaxed his thigh injury. The sweat beginning to bead on his brow, his heart’s slight acceleration. All signs he needed to rest.
    He swore under his breath as he took a good hold on the mattress. Not only had she managed to irritate him more than any female he’d ever met, she was also turning him into a compulsive liar. And a damn lousy one at that.
    With a grunt and a vicious tug, he pulled the thick pad half off the bed, barely hopping back in time to keep from falling.
    “What happened to a three count?” Jillian grumbled as she crawled back off the bed he’d just yanked her half across.
    “Stop griping and help me get this thing upright.”
    She slanted him a tight look, but thankfully did as he said without comment.
    Once they’d maneuvered the mattress out into the front room, Reese motioned her to change ends. “You pull, I’ll push.”
    “How about I pull, and you and your attitude go to hell.”
    She’d muttered the words, but he heard her nonetheless. All things considered, he should have let it pass. After all, her curvy little butt wasn’t the only one on the line, and time was short. Still,