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Authors: Lori Austin
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not afford to let her body cloud her thoughts. Better if Alexi’s body clouded his. Best to keep him off balance. It was the only way to remain in control.
“They’re gone,” she murmured and stepped back, crossing the tent as if she hadn’t just been clasped desperately in his arms and wishing she never had to leave them.
C HAPTER 6
A lexi nearly grabbed Cat’s hand and yanked her back. However, he’d learned the hard way that grabbing and yanking Cat led to bruises, cuts, and black eyes. The only time she permitted such behavior was when they were in the middle of a “show.”
The only time she permitted a lot of these things was when they were pretending.
He couldn’t believe he’d become so involved in the ruse that he’d forgotten the danger, their audience, himself. But when she’d pressed her lips to his hair as he’d tasted her, he’d actually started to think this was real. He, who should always know better.
Alexi counted to ten in Russian and willed his erection to wither. It didn’t take long. All he had to do was look at Cat and remember how she’d said,
They’re gone,
then walked away. As if she’d been covertly watching the posse the entire time and not paying attention to Alexi at all.
She pulled the peasant blouse over her head and shoved it into the case without seeming to care that she’d just bared herself to him as if he were her ancient, half-blind grandmother.
“Hell,” Cat muttered.
“Problem?” he murmured, thrilled when his voice came out sounding as bored as if she’d just appeared.
She cast him a quick, irritated glance.
Good.
Why should only one of them want to punch something?
“What did you do with my clothes?”
“Tossed them into the flames.”
“Thought so.” She frowned and shifted toward the entrance of the tent.
Every movement made her breasts shake and caused the erection he’d just tamed to whisper. When she presented him with her back, the ripples of muscle beneath skin caused it to snarl.
“Here.” He rooted through the case, then tossed the costume he’d worn in Abilene in her direction.
The clothes fell across her bare feet. She bent, her hair nearly touching the ground, then sliding up her body, the ends caressing her nipples as he had.
Alexi moved to the decanter of wine and poured himself more than usual, drank it, then poured more than usual again. Why was she undressing in front of him as if he were a relative and not her…what? He’d once been her lover.
No. Alexi sipped from the glass, staring at the canvas in front of him and trying to ignore the rustles of cloth and the scent of her that drifted from the other side of the room. Love had had nothing to do with it. He’d been her teacher, her partner, her savior. But the only man she would ever love was dead.
Alexi knew very little about Cat’s past. She revealed as much of herself to others as he did. Of course, he was adept at reading people, at taking each word or one tiny, accidental phrase and piecing them into something more.
He still didn’t know much. Both her names. That she had loved and lost. That she would have her vengeance. Or die trying.
They worked well together. Neither one of them had any problem taking what was freely offered and moving on. They were easily able to slip into the skin of others. Probably because their own skin was not something they enjoyed wearing for very long. However, because Alexi had been too close to dying too many times, he had decided that all he wanted was to live. Apparently, Cat’s dance with death had made her long for it.
He turned. The sight of her wearing his pants and his hat, feet still bare and impossibly white against the dirt floor of the tent, with his shirt hanging open to reveal the creamy weight of her breasts made every curse word he’d learned in a dozen different languages flutter through his head.
She glanced up, lifting a length of moss-green cloth. He vaguely recalled buying it for some woman—what had
“They’re gone,” she murmured and stepped back, crossing the tent as if she hadn’t just been clasped desperately in his arms and wishing she never had to leave them.
C HAPTER 6
A lexi nearly grabbed Cat’s hand and yanked her back. However, he’d learned the hard way that grabbing and yanking Cat led to bruises, cuts, and black eyes. The only time she permitted such behavior was when they were in the middle of a “show.”
The only time she permitted a lot of these things was when they were pretending.
He couldn’t believe he’d become so involved in the ruse that he’d forgotten the danger, their audience, himself. But when she’d pressed her lips to his hair as he’d tasted her, he’d actually started to think this was real. He, who should always know better.
Alexi counted to ten in Russian and willed his erection to wither. It didn’t take long. All he had to do was look at Cat and remember how she’d said,
They’re gone,
then walked away. As if she’d been covertly watching the posse the entire time and not paying attention to Alexi at all.
She pulled the peasant blouse over her head and shoved it into the case without seeming to care that she’d just bared herself to him as if he were her ancient, half-blind grandmother.
“Hell,” Cat muttered.
“Problem?” he murmured, thrilled when his voice came out sounding as bored as if she’d just appeared.
She cast him a quick, irritated glance.
Good.
Why should only one of them want to punch something?
“What did you do with my clothes?”
“Tossed them into the flames.”
“Thought so.” She frowned and shifted toward the entrance of the tent.
Every movement made her breasts shake and caused the erection he’d just tamed to whisper. When she presented him with her back, the ripples of muscle beneath skin caused it to snarl.
“Here.” He rooted through the case, then tossed the costume he’d worn in Abilene in her direction.
The clothes fell across her bare feet. She bent, her hair nearly touching the ground, then sliding up her body, the ends caressing her nipples as he had.
Alexi moved to the decanter of wine and poured himself more than usual, drank it, then poured more than usual again. Why was she undressing in front of him as if he were a relative and not her…what? He’d once been her lover.
No. Alexi sipped from the glass, staring at the canvas in front of him and trying to ignore the rustles of cloth and the scent of her that drifted from the other side of the room. Love had had nothing to do with it. He’d been her teacher, her partner, her savior. But the only man she would ever love was dead.
Alexi knew very little about Cat’s past. She revealed as much of herself to others as he did. Of course, he was adept at reading people, at taking each word or one tiny, accidental phrase and piecing them into something more.
He still didn’t know much. Both her names. That she had loved and lost. That she would have her vengeance. Or die trying.
They worked well together. Neither one of them had any problem taking what was freely offered and moving on. They were easily able to slip into the skin of others. Probably because their own skin was not something they enjoyed wearing for very long. However, because Alexi had been too close to dying too many times, he had decided that all he wanted was to live. Apparently, Cat’s dance with death had made her long for it.
He turned. The sight of her wearing his pants and his hat, feet still bare and impossibly white against the dirt floor of the tent, with his shirt hanging open to reveal the creamy weight of her breasts made every curse word he’d learned in a dozen different languages flutter through his head.
She glanced up, lifting a length of moss-green cloth. He vaguely recalled buying it for some woman—what had
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