asked. Now Laramie's heel found her toe, under the water, and pressed sligh tl y.
"Miss." The stranger tipped his hat and turned away. Then he paused and looked over his shoulder. "If I was you, mister, I would get a handle on that quick draw of your'n. Could be you'll pull down on someone you ought not have."
Laramie, of course, said nothing. But when Victoria called, "Wait," he tensed against her.
"Ma'am?" called the stranger.
"May I ask your name?"
The stranger grinned, and he was definitely part Indian. "Sure, you can ask."
Then he tipped his hat to them both and vanished into the shadows. Barely a moment later, she heard a horse riding away. She thought she should take one last look —
Except that she still stood in Goose Creek, tugged by the current, holding herself against Ross Laramie's long, lean body in ways that were wholly inappropriate.
And to her surprise, she was enjoying it.
Laramie wasn't sure at what point during his standoff with Lonny Logan he'd noticed Victoria Garrison pressing her warm, curvy self against his back and side. He did know that he began to have trouble thinking clearly.
Not a wise state, around outlaws.
Then again, Lonny didn't fascinate him like Victoria did. Lonny only worried him. But that was enough reason to watch the youngest Logan brother, even while Laramie's blood swirled and eddied, playing with him like the creek had played with his hat, hot as the creek was cold.
She felt so soft and round in some places, tucked and firm in others. And warm and dry, where he was wet. And at that moment, he would have given anything to keep her safe.
So what level of fool was she, to ask those kinds of questions to a bona-fide train robber?
Only once Lonny had said his piece and rode off could Laramie breathe again —and then he felt downright weak. Not tha t he figured even a Logan, espe cially Lonny, would hurt a lady. But if anybody would, why not a desperado? Damn!
In one long movement and a solid click, he eased his derringer back into its holdout. That comforted him some. In another, he turned and lifted Victoria right out of the water, took three dripping steps, and set her onto the bank —even if pain did clutch into his wounded arm and side when he did it. Then he stared at her from the creek, eye-to-eye now, furious and afraid, and still too aware of his eddying blood and her soft, warm curves ... and again, he did not know what to say.
Should he say, Don't do that?
How could she have not known not to do that?!
"Golly!" Victoria exclaimed, her hands still on his wet forearms where she'd planted them in midair. That meant she must feel the holdout's rigging —but she'd seen it in action, so it was hardly a secret anymore.
Laramie liked her fingers, her soft palms on him.
She seemed to be too excited, her eyes bright as moons, her face aglow even in the shadows, to notice minor details like deadly force. "Did you see all his guns? I don't think that man was up to any good at all, do you?"
Laramie stared at her. Of course he was up to no good!
Hell, Laramie had been doing much the same thing, until Victoria showed up and startled him near senseless, and he wasn't up to any good either. He'd even drawn on her!
"I wish we'd seen his horse," continued Victoria, squeezing his arms. "I wish we knew who he was meeting, so we could discover if anything nefarious is going on. If I were a man, I think I'd go to the saloon myself and see who he meant to meet!" At least being a girl would stop her.
Laramie looked down at his submerged feet, braced against the now-dark current. "Could be trouble."
"Well, if I stopped doing what needs doing just because it could be trouble, I'd make a sorry reporter." She let go of his arms to take his left hand in both of hers, then tugged. "Or human being, for that matter. But now I have to tell Papa, and that will be trouble!"
"No." Whether he was protecting his secrets or her world, Laramie wasn't sure. Likely himself. But he'd brought
"Miss." The stranger tipped his hat and turned away. Then he paused and looked over his shoulder. "If I was you, mister, I would get a handle on that quick draw of your'n. Could be you'll pull down on someone you ought not have."
Laramie, of course, said nothing. But when Victoria called, "Wait," he tensed against her.
"Ma'am?" called the stranger.
"May I ask your name?"
The stranger grinned, and he was definitely part Indian. "Sure, you can ask."
Then he tipped his hat to them both and vanished into the shadows. Barely a moment later, she heard a horse riding away. She thought she should take one last look —
Except that she still stood in Goose Creek, tugged by the current, holding herself against Ross Laramie's long, lean body in ways that were wholly inappropriate.
And to her surprise, she was enjoying it.
Laramie wasn't sure at what point during his standoff with Lonny Logan he'd noticed Victoria Garrison pressing her warm, curvy self against his back and side. He did know that he began to have trouble thinking clearly.
Not a wise state, around outlaws.
Then again, Lonny didn't fascinate him like Victoria did. Lonny only worried him. But that was enough reason to watch the youngest Logan brother, even while Laramie's blood swirled and eddied, playing with him like the creek had played with his hat, hot as the creek was cold.
She felt so soft and round in some places, tucked and firm in others. And warm and dry, where he was wet. And at that moment, he would have given anything to keep her safe.
So what level of fool was she, to ask those kinds of questions to a bona-fide train robber?
Only once Lonny had said his piece and rode off could Laramie breathe again —and then he felt downright weak. Not tha t he figured even a Logan, espe cially Lonny, would hurt a lady. But if anybody would, why not a desperado? Damn!
In one long movement and a solid click, he eased his derringer back into its holdout. That comforted him some. In another, he turned and lifted Victoria right out of the water, took three dripping steps, and set her onto the bank —even if pain did clutch into his wounded arm and side when he did it. Then he stared at her from the creek, eye-to-eye now, furious and afraid, and still too aware of his eddying blood and her soft, warm curves ... and again, he did not know what to say.
Should he say, Don't do that?
How could she have not known not to do that?!
"Golly!" Victoria exclaimed, her hands still on his wet forearms where she'd planted them in midair. That meant she must feel the holdout's rigging —but she'd seen it in action, so it was hardly a secret anymore.
Laramie liked her fingers, her soft palms on him.
She seemed to be too excited, her eyes bright as moons, her face aglow even in the shadows, to notice minor details like deadly force. "Did you see all his guns? I don't think that man was up to any good at all, do you?"
Laramie stared at her. Of course he was up to no good!
Hell, Laramie had been doing much the same thing, until Victoria showed up and startled him near senseless, and he wasn't up to any good either. He'd even drawn on her!
"I wish we'd seen his horse," continued Victoria, squeezing his arms. "I wish we knew who he was meeting, so we could discover if anything nefarious is going on. If I were a man, I think I'd go to the saloon myself and see who he meant to meet!" At least being a girl would stop her.
Laramie looked down at his submerged feet, braced against the now-dark current. "Could be trouble."
"Well, if I stopped doing what needs doing just because it could be trouble, I'd make a sorry reporter." She let go of his arms to take his left hand in both of hers, then tugged. "Or human being, for that matter. But now I have to tell Papa, and that will be trouble!"
"No." Whether he was protecting his secrets or her world, Laramie wasn't sure. Likely himself. But he'd brought
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