Catch Me by Lorelie Brown Page B

bodice because she didn’t unbutton enough. “Damn and hell nation,” she muttered, through the cloth covering her face.
    “That mouth is going to get you in trouble some day,” Dean said.
    She fumbled at the caught button. Her fingers felt as thick as redwood trunks, for all their usefulness. “Already has, more times than I can count.”
    “I’m not surprised. I also don’t hear any clothing moving.”
    “Rustle,” she snapped as she finally slipped loose the button. “Rustle, rustle, rustle.” She fought free of the dress and tossed it down. “I was stuck.”
    “Need help?” He stood with his feet apart, his thumbs slung in the gun belt that looped low around his narrow hips. Since he’d tossed his hat to the side after the sun dipped below the surrounding trees, his hair was exposed. Freshly shorn, judging from a white tan line at the nape of his neck. But the top was still long enough for a woman to wrap her fingers through and yank his face down to hers.
    She shook her head and ignored the tender swelling of her body. She was certainly an unnatural young lady. If riding horses astride and robbing banks didn’t prove it, the naughty thoughts filling her mind certainly did.
    He shifted his boots and started to twist his shoulders. “Well? I don’t hear what I need to.”
    “Don’t you dare move!” She yanked her shirt on and did up the front placket in a sure-fire hurry. Her trousers came next, and then she took care of her necessaries. She refused to feel embarrassed. Absolutely refused to, as it was a luxury she simply had no time for. That she was in this position was Collier’s fault; if anyone were to feel embarrassment, it should be him.
    Her cheeks burned hot anyway.
    “All right.” She bundled her dress up and strode to the blankets. “Time to sleep.”
    Collier was right behind her. “Hands out.”
    She bit back the nasty curse on her tongue, half hoping that if she seemed to be cooperative, he’d forget about the restraints. No such luck. She presented her wrists and managed not to spew the invectives she’d like to.
    But then, to add insult to injury, he ran a cord from her wrists to his gun belt.
    “Oh, come on now.” She tugged at the rope. “Is this really necessary?”
    “I’m about done with this. Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall.” He sat down and gave a sharp tug at the rope.
    She was forced to her knees to avoid falling flat on her face. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”
    He took his pistol out of its holster and slid it half under his saddle, on the far side from her, of course. Lying flat, he stretched his legs out and crossed his boots at the ankle. He shut his eyes as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
    Maggie lay down as well, but turned away from him. The rope cut across her body, under her ribs. She pulled at it, but in response Collier yanked as well. She was obligated to roll onto her back. She stared up at the first glinting star that had popped out in the clear sky.
    She ground her teeth together until pain spiked into her ears. “Hey, Collier?”
    “Yeah, Maggie?”
    “I just thought you should know there’s only one person in the world I hate more than you.”
    She heard a soft shush of cloth as he shifted, and the rope wiggled. “I kind of figured as much.”

Chapter Seven
    Something was wrong.
    Dean awoke with his customary swiftness. The hum of crickets filled the air. A soft breeze flowed over what little of his skin was bare. Maggie’s breathing was too soft to hear.
    It was probably nothing, just a remnant of a nightmare. The dream had started well enough, with Annie kissing him goodbye as he left for work. Jack had been tucked in the crook of her arm as she’d waved to Dean from their front porch. He’d ridden into town under the sharp summer sun, his badge glinting on his chest.
    But it ended as they all had. The tumbled mess of a house. The acrid tang of gunpowder and coppery blood.
    He kept his