Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

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Authors: Monique Martin
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had enough to worry about without adding her into the mix.
    Greedily taking what fate offered, she watched him for a few more minutes. He mumbled something incoherent and rolled his head to the side. His breathing was slow and steady. She could see the muscles of his chest under his thin cotton T-shirt. How did he stay in such good shape? The idea of Simon going to the gym was laughable, but he clearly did something to have that physique. She tried not to let her imagination run wild with just how he worked out.
    Memories of last night wheedled their way into her mind. Watching him through the darkness as he undressed. She’d tried not to watch him unbutton his shirt. She’d tried extra hard not to sneak a peek as he stepped out of his trousers. Tried like a trooper not to notice how broad his shoulders were. How strong the muscles of his legs looked silhouetted by the soft moonlight from the window. She’d tried not to feel the heat of his body next to hers as he slid under the covers. She’d tried not to let the moan escape her lips, but it did.
    Bad Elizabeth. She pulled her eyes and thoughts away from his chest to safer territory. His face held a few worry lines, no surprise there. But his lips, curved in that smile, were irresistible. Sculpted and sensual. What would it be like to kiss him? To feel them against hers. To feel the rough stubble on his cheek scrape along her skin.
    Oh, this was a dangerous train of thought. Derail. Derail.
    Simon moaned again, more softly than before and rolled onto his side facing her. His arm fell across her hip. Her stomach dropped, and she froze.
    His eyes opened, and he smiled sleepily.
    She hoped her voice didn’t squeak. “Morning.”
    Simon grinned, but then his expression changed with dawning realization. “Elizabeth,” he said. “Miss West?”
    “Right on both counts.”
    He blinked back at her. “What the devil is...” he said and then noticed his hand resting on her hip. He yanked it back and cleared his throat, moving to his side of the bed. Hastily, he sat up and tried to look as if nothing had happened. “Sorry.” “It’s okay,” she said with a blush.
    Simon cleared his throat again, putting his hands in his lap. She had to hide her smile. He was absolutely adorable when he was befuddled, but she decided to take pity on him. “I’m going to use the bathroom, unless you want to go first?”
“No,” Simon said. “You go ahead. I’ll...You go ahead.”
    Stifling a giggle, she escaped into the bathroom. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, her laughter stopped.
    An appalling case of bed head and raccoon eyes stared back. She combed her fingers through her hair, but it stayed poking up like a bouffant gone terribly wrong.
    My kingdom for a hairbrush.
    She tested her breath. Strong enough to kill a wildebeest. How humiliating. She’d actually sat there grinning like an idiot at him. Looking like this.
    She searched the tiny bath. No toothpaste, no hairbrush, no nothing. What a way to make a debut in the twenties, looking like a day passer from an asylum. She did the best she could with the absolute nothing she had. A quick bird bath and finger brushing later, she felt marginally human and slipped on the dress they’d bought yesterday.
    First stop, a pharmacy, she thought. Her stomach rumbled in protest. Breakfast first, pharmacy second. She took one last look in the mirror and sighed.
    You can do this, she told herself. A city was a city. It’s not like they were in the middle ages. How different could it be?
    * * *
    “I’m tellin’ ya that ump was blind. Fletch oughta get him some cheaters. The Babe was robbed. That was a two bagger!” a man growled loudly and thumped his hand on the counter.
    “Don’t see what you’re gripin’ about. Yanks won, didn’t they?” his companion said.
    “It’s the principle of the thing. Ain’t right.”
    Simon glared at them, but their argument continued. It seemed everyone in the diner felt the

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