In Shining Whatever (Three Magic Words Trilogy #2)(60)

Hart was watching the shower from the corner of the porch. Though he couldn't see her, she could feel it. She braced herself for the first spray of cold water. Like diving into a cold creek or bayou, even on a hot humid night, the water would startle her. She'd bite her tongue plumb off at the root before she made a noise.

She finished the shower, wrapped the towel around her clean body, slipped a pair of flip-flops onto her feet, and headed up the stairs. The sight of her with her long black hair streaming down her back, water droplets on her lightly toasted skin, and those full lips sucked all the air out of Hart's lungs.

"Your turn," she said, and disappeared into the house. A couple of minutes later, she tossed out a towel. "Soap is on the chair beside the shower. Bring it in when you are done."

He plodded out to the shower in flip-flops, stepped inside the curtains, peeled out of every stitch of clothing, and put it on the chair as he'd seen her do. He was thinking about her when he turned on the water.

"Holy Mother of God," he yelled when the cold water hit his sweaty skin.

Her voice singsonged above the rush of the cold water. "I told you I was tougher than you"

"You are a devil woman," he yelled back, when he could breathe again.

Her laugh echoed through the still night.

He finished bathing and wrapped the towel around him like a loincloth, picked up his clothing in one hand and the soap in the other, slipped his feet into the flip-flops, and headed back to the house. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, and dark clouds covered the moon.

So Minnette had been right. There was a storm coming. Hart didn't know which was more ferocious, the squall coming off the gulf or the one in his soul. He tossed his clothing on the floor and picked up his duffel bag.

Kate, in an oversize white T-shirt, was sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up to her chin, watching out the open window. He carried the bag to the screened-in porch and dressed in a gauze undershirt and a pair of black knit sleeping shorts that barely reached his knees.

"Looks like we got a choice," he said.

"About what?"

She was not sleeping on the same mattress with him. He could sneeze and get that idea right out of his head!

"It's about to rain. We can take that mattress off the bed and put it on the floor in the living room as far away from the windows as possible. Or we can shut all the windows and get stinkin' sweaty again," he said.

She looked up. Wet, plastered-down blond hair made the scar more visible. She wanted to kiss it but refrained. She was going to stay in Louisiana. Hart was going back to Texas. And never the twain would meet again, unless she ran across him when she went home to visit Fancy, Sophie, and her relatives.

Home? She frowned.

"It's not that tough of a decision, Kate. Heat or mattress on the floor," he said.

"Mattress on the floor. I'll put a pillow between us. We'll each get half of it, and you are not to get into my space," she said.

"Wouldn't dream of getting into your space. Now if you'll get off the bed, I'll move it. Thunder is getting closer all the time. Rain will be here before long, and it'll get wet next to the window. Feel the way the wind is already blowing in there." He held up his hand.

"Don't tell me what to do," she protested.

"Don't be controlling. We're here together, Kate Miller. You don't have to have the upper hand on every decision," he countered.

"Well, you're not God," she snapped.

"I don't want to be. He gets blamed for too many mistakes. I can barely stay ahead of my own."

"Floor, then" She picked up the bottom end of the mattress and helped him carry it to the living room. "There used to be two or three beds in here and two in the other room. Maw Maw said it was wall-to-wall people at night. When the weather was nice, they fought over who got to carry their beds to the screened porch"

He was amazed that she'd offered information with no barbs.

"So, you ready for bed?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'm even ready for sleep, so don't try any funny stuff like hopping over the pillow."

"In your dreams," she snapped, and found an extra pillow to divide the bed. She laced her fingers behind her neck when she was stretched out on her half. Her eyes were wide open, and she didn't think she could sleep with Hart on one side and a storm approaching outside. But in seconds her eyes fluttered, and she was asleep.

Propped up on an elbow, Hart drank in his fill of her lying there so peacefully. Long, lean legs. No excess fat anywhere in spite of a very healthy appetite. Silky dark hair that begged for a man's hands to touch. Lips that he wanted to kiss so badly.

Thunder rattled through the trees and she slept on, but when the first flash of lightning lit up the room, she jumped six inches over the pillow and grabbed Hart in a death grip.

She buried her face in his chest and shut her eyes tightly. "Hold me."

He wrapped her in his arms. "It's just lightning. The storm will pass."

"But it's here now."

He wished it would last until they were rescued, if it meant he could sink his face into her freshly washed hair and smell the sweetness until then.

She looked up into his face about the same time the next flash zigzagged its way through the window. She'd been dreaming they were in a boat trying to get back to civilization, when a hurricane hit. It overturned the boat, and she was hanging onto the bottom, searching for Hart in every lightning flash. She shut her eyes tightly and wrapped her arms around his neck.