A Little Time In Texas

“Keep your distance, Ranger, and we’ll get along fine.”

A flash of irritation crossed his face. “I only thought you might want to dry off a little,” he said, extending the towel at arm’s length.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it from him with exaggerated dignity. “You may leave now.”

Dallas had already turned his back when he realized that she had dismissed him. Perversely he wasn’t about to let her have the last word. He stuck out his hand to catch the door before she could shut it in his face.

“I like that mole on your right breast,” he said.

Angel gasped. “You clunch! How dare you—”

“One day I’ll wash it myself. With my tongue.”

He let go, and the door slammed in his face. Dallas grinned as he listened to the unique imprecations she muttered behind the door. She was stubborn, all right, and opinionated. She also had gumption. That didn’t mean he was going to take any more guff from her. He was responsible for her, and by God she was going to do as she was told!

Angel leaned her forehead against the door, fistfuls of the towel clutched against her bosom. What an impossible man! How could he have mentioned something so personal? She couldn’t stand him! He was horrible! Dealing with him was like being up the same tree as a grizzly. How could she be so attracted to someone so intolerable?

She sighed and turned to look at herself in the mirror. The problem was, sparks flew whenever she got near him. That was going to have to stop. She wasn’t sure how she’d been propelled into the future. But she had business that needed finishing in the past.

Angel reached down and pulled a paper out of the pocket of her trousers. She unfolded it and looked at the image printed there. Across the top of the paper was the caption WANTED. She stared at it for another moment, her lips flattened in a bitter line. Then she folded the poster and put it away again. Likely the Ranger wouldn’t approve if he found out where she had been heading. But what Dallas Masterson didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

She twisted the knobs on the tub the way Dallas had shown her. As long as she was in the future, she might as well take advantage of the opportunity to get a hot indoor bath. Sometime soon she was going to have to go back where she had come from.

3

Dallas paced the floor of the living room most of the night, trying to decide what he should do next. The several times he checked on Angel, she was sleeping like a baby in his bed. It was easy to see how serene she was, because she had asked to keep the bedside lamp on. He wondered why she was so afraid of the dark and whether there was any way to help her get over her fear. The fact he was so concerned worried him. It wasn’t a smart move to get any more involved with her than he already was.

Unfortunately, knowing the smart move and making it were two entirely different things.

When Dallas awoke in the morning, he was draped half on and half off the Victorian sofa. Someone—it must have been Angel—had thrown the quilt from his bed over him. The smell of perking coffee permeated the room. He slowly sat up, stretching kinks out of knotted muscles as he went.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were awake. I borrowed some of your clothes. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Angel stood before him wearing a western shirt from his closet and a clean pair of his jeans, folded up at the ankle and tied with the same rope he’d seen around her waist the previous day. Her hair fell over her shoulders practically to her waist. She looked more fragile this morning, dressed in his oversize clothes. The feeling of protectiveness arose even stronger than before. He ignored it and focused on the coffee cup she held in her hands. “I see you figured out how to work the stove.”

She grinned. “It sure beats gathering kindling for a fire. The coffeepot was on a back burner, and I found the coffee grounds by opening cupboards and sniffing. Would you like this cup? I can get myself another.”

“That’s all right. I can get a cup for myself.”

Before he could stand, she laid a hand on his bare chest. “Don’t get up.”

Dallas couldn’t have moved if his life depended on it. Even though she was barely touching him, he was distinctly aware of her fingertips on his flesh.

Angel was amazed at how hot his skin felt. She was intimately aware of the crisp hair under her fingers, of the firm muscle that tensed beneath her touch. She withdrew her hand ever so slowly, as though she were escaping a trap that might spring closed if she weren’t extremely careful.

She set the coffee cup on the low wooden table beside the sofa, said “I’ll be right back” and turned to go.

Dallas stood and caught her wrist before she had gone two steps. “Don’t leave.”

Angel glanced over her shoulder and froze at the sight of him. The hair on his chest arrowed toward his belly. Her eyes followed the dark line down until it was cut off by his jeans. The top button was undone, and they had slid down his hips. Beneath the worn blue denim was the unmistakable proof that he was as aware of her as she was of him.

Angel didn’t resist his hold on her wrist, merely poised herself to flee or fight, whichever alternative should offer her the best chance of survival.

Only, to her surprise, Dallas released her.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said.

“You didn’t,” Angel lied. She saw him wince as she rubbed her wrist where he had held her.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” He hadn’t, she realized. But she could still feel his flesh on hers. The sensation had been stunning.

They weren’t touching now, but an invisible bond seemed to hold them in thrall. Neither moved, neither broke the spell until finally Angel realized that she was waiting for him to make the first move, to touch her again. That wasn’t fair to him…or to her. She had gone her whole life without being touched by a man as much as Dallas had touched her in the past twenty-four hours. It was foolish to get embroiled in something she wouldn’t be around to finish.

“Can I—” She had to stop and clear her throat before she could continue. “Can I make you some breakfast?”

Dallas smiled. Trust a woman to think of a man’s stomach at a time like this. “A couple of fried eggs and some bacon would be fine,” he said. “I’ll come along and show you where things are.”

Angel hesitated and then nodded.

Once they had something to do, it wasn’t so hard being in the same room with each other. The tension was always there, but they could channel it into action and thus defuse it.

Angel found the contents of the refrigerator a marvel. Imagine the convenience of a dozen eggs in a plastic carton and bacon already sliced and ready to fry! She laughed when Dallas showed her the pre-made biscuits in a cardboard cylinder. They weren’t half-bad.

Dallas didn’t say much while they ate, but it wasn’t a peaceful silence. Angel knew he was agitated. He opened his mouth several times to speak, then snapped it shut again. She didn’t press him. In her experience it was best to let a man do his thinking without interruption. When he was ready, he would talk.

Only, when Dallas finally spoke she wasn’t at all pleased with what he had to say.

“I made a mistake bringing you here, Angel. I should have taken you to San Antonio, to a hospital or somewhere they can take care of you.”

“You don’t believe me,” she said flatly. “I mean, that I’m from the past.”

His eyes were bleak. “No, I don’t.”

“Then take me back to the cave,” Angel said.

He shook his head. “That wouldn’t solve anything. The tunnel’s gone. If—and it’s a big if—you did come from the past, there’s no going back.”

“There must be another way, another tunnel. I have to get back where I came from,” Angel said, her voice strained with the effort to remain calm. “There’s someone—”

“You said you don’t have any family,” Dallas interrupted.

“It’s not—You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”