Free The Cowboy And The Debutante by Stella Bagwell Page A

peroxide over the wounds, Miguel wanted to curse at the sight of her marred skin, but he forced himself to bite back the choice words on his lips. The damage was already done. And for the next month he was going to have to try to get along with this woman.
    â€œHave you always been a stubborn girl?” he asked as he dabbed at the broken skin with a cotton ball.
    Trying not to wince, Anna said, “Not really. My brother Adam is the stubborn one. When he gets a notion in his head, there’s no changing it.”
    â€œHumph. If you two didn’t look so much alike I would doubt you were twins. You’re nothing like your brother.”
    â€œIn what way?” she asked, curious that he’d made any sort of assumption about her, other than that she was a pampered rose.
    He lifted his head and looked at her. Anna once again felt undressed as his dark gaze drifted to where her blue silk robe parted at the vee between her breasts.
    â€œYour brother appears to be an uncomplicated guy.”
    She desperately needed to gulp in a long breath of air, but she forced herself to breathe as slowly as possible, to behave as though his gaze, his touch, did not affect her at all.
    â€œIf that’s what you think, then you don’t know Adam. He’s had his own demons to deal with.”
    His lips twisted. “Everybody has those. At least he’s kept a sense of humor about him. He can and does laugh.”
    â€œI haven’t exactly seen you splitting your sides since I met you,” she remarked coolly.
    He unfastened the cap on a tube of ointment and gently smeared it over the ragged skin. “Most people aren’t up to laughing when they’ve had a splitting, clawing tigress thrown at them.”
    Pain from her hands and anger at him had Anna gritting her teeth. “You really are insufferable. It’s no wonder you live alone up there in the honeymoon house.”
    Miguel’s gaze shifted to her face. As he made a lazy search of her features, Anna felt her heart begin to beat faster and faster. She’d never met a man so commanding, so totally and utterly male.
    â€œI live alone because I choose to. Not because I have to.”
    His attention turned back to his task, and for long moments Anna contented herself to study the wave in his thick dark hair, the way his big hands moved so nimbly. He smelled of sweat and dust, cattle and horses and sage. The combined scents were exotic, lusty, a strong aphrodisiac to her senses.
    â€œMother said you were married once,” she said before she could stop the words.
    He didn’t look up. “She was right,” he said bluntly. “I was married. Once.”
    â€œI don’t suppose you’d want to tell me what happened?”
    He glanced up long enough for her to see the frown on his face. “What do you mean, what happened?”
    She shrugged. “I mean why you aren’t still married.”
    He reached for a piece of gauze and gently placed it across the affected area of her hand. “I guess you could say she wanted more than I could give her.”
    He sounded bitter, and Anna wondered how long it had been since he’d gotten divorced. From the impression her mother had given her, a long time. If that was the case, his lingering sourness meant he’d either loved his wife very much or hated the very sight of her. She longed to know which, though she couldn’t understand why.
    Miguel ripped off several strips of adhesive tape and fastened the pads of gauze to both her hands. Once he was satisfied the bandages would stay in place, he put all the first aid items back into their small case, then left the table to put it away.
    Anna tentatively flexed her fingers and was relieved to find the stinging soreness wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been earlier. “This does feel much better, Miguel. Thank you.”
    Her appreciation for his nursing took him off guard. He’d grown so used to