She nuzzled closer, like a newborn kitten-needy and hungry.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he quickly reached the landing without waking his charge, and pushed his bedroom door open with the toe of his boot.

Outside, the night sky blazed with angry blue-white lightning, setting the room aglow. Fat raindrops splattered against the windowpanes as cannon-blasts of thunder echoed in the distance.

Protectively, Quin tightened his hold on Kaira.

His breath caught in his throat and his heart missed a beat, not from the electrical storm, but from what he saw in his bedroom.

“What in the hell?” He almost dropped Kaira on the wooden floor. “What in Sam Hill did you do?”

Chapter 9

Shocked beyond belief, Kaira steadied herself and watched Quinten Corbett stalk down the stairs. Never had she been treated in such an undignified fashion. He hadn’t quite dropped her, but had unceremoniously plopped her on her feet. Quinten shot her a glare that would melt a horseshoe before he walked-rather, stomped-out, leaving her staring at the south end of the northbound pigheaded editor.

Kaira flounced to the window, pulled back the lace curtain, and watched lightning arc from cloud to cloud.

Why the sudden change with Quinten? And, just when she had come to enjoy the feel of his forceful hands as they cupped her posterior. A rock-solid chest that held a heart that sounded like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest cavity. Muscles of iron protecting her against the raging storm, and his tenderness…was a trait she hadn’t expected in the big man.

A rambunctious clap of thunder caused her to jump.

Could it be that Quinten recognized that she only pretended to be asleep? Or that she played an innocent shenanigan on him by copying some old articles that she knew would catch in his craw? After all, isn’t April Fools’ Day a time of trickery? But then, he probably hadn’t noticed and she hadn’t had a chance to remind him. Kaira enjoyed a good prank every now and again, especially one that held promise. But this one had failed miserably. She ended up the fool.

Oh, Kaira had no intentions of allowing Quinten to touch her inappropriately, or do anything unacceptable to a lady. Nothing she didn’t want him to do.

A flash of light lit up the room again.

She would not be treated so shabbily. She had done nothing wrong. He had suddenly turned coat and stomped away. He couldn’t touch her the way he did, setting off sensations that no well-bred Bostonian lady should feel, and get away with it. By daybreak, she might be on the next train back to New England, but she deserved an answer from Mr. Corbett. He might be a handsome, rugged cowboy with a fiery, white-hot touch, but he would not trample on her emotions.

After taking a moment to pile her hair on top of her head and reinsert hairpins, she straightened her blouse and tinted her lips. Throwing her shoulders back, she headed downstairs to locate the jackass.

Quinten was nowhere in sight and the office was dark, except for soft light slithering from beneath the door of the back room, which served as storeroom, a place for the type to be cleaned, and a small corner kitchen.

Cautiously, she touched the closed door. Detecting the rush of water hitting a basin, she tested the knob. Unlocked.

Uncertainty knotted in her soul. Quinten was no doubt still angry for reasons she couldn’t phantom. Kaira swallowed her misgivings, knowing she mustn’t allow an innocent joke to turn into something it was never meant to be.

She wanted to help Quin succeed, while learning journalism herself. Kaira realized that the whole thought of being taken sincere was foreign to her. She had never thought of herself as a journalist or anything except a product of an affluent family who gave her the best. From a French nanny to an education at the elite Boston College, she was given everything her heart desired and more. So why the sudden need to have Quinten’s approval?

Easing the door open, she made less noise than a scampering mouse in a cotton field. She caught sight of Quinten’s magnificent near-naked body with nothing on but his unmentionables. Her heart leaped to her throat, and she felt sparks burst into flames and shoot directly to a place where such sensations were alien to her.

Never had she seen anything as shocking, or riveting. Kaira tried to quell the awareness flittering in her body.

Quinten leaned over the washbasin and splashed water on his face. Picking up the pitcher, he doused himself with cold water, leaving his hair shimmering in the soft lamplight.

Kaira wondered if he was trying to wash away his anger. Her gaze froze on his tall, beautifully proportioned body.

He shivered as the cold stream hit, making his muscles ripple like skipping stones on water.

From powerful thighs made for a pair of tight jeans to the slimness of his hips, she studied every muscle, every inch of the man that exuded masculinity in every breath. He shifted his weight, exhibiting a forceful body better fit for a saddle than a desk.

Her gaze stopped below his right shoulder. Numerous pitted pockmarks were lodged around a deep, purplish, and jagged scar plowed into his back. Suppressing an outcry, Kaira covered her mouth and closed her eyes. Not from repulsiveness, but from being unable to bear thoughts about a man carrying such a horrid disfigurement. What horrible accident had caused the scar?

Composure held a fragile shell around her. Kaira opened her eyes but continued to stay fixed on the painful-looking, long-ago-healed wound. Her stomach knotted. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she grabbed the doorframe for balance.

Quinten whirled.

Kaira stood frozen. His physique was even more impressive face on. Since he had already seen her, she might as well make the most of the opportunity. After all, she’d never seen a man in his unmentionables before. In boarding school a floozy described a naked male body to her, but it paled in comparison to this magnificently built man.

She took the liberty to study his features. From his chiseled jaw covered with a smidgen of dark stubble, past angry lips and stormy eyes raging with furor, to that God-awful scowl he seemed to reserve just for her.

“What in the hell?” A muscle clenched along his jaw. He grabbed his shirt. Pulling it over his shoulders, he left the front open, and took a decisive step toward her.

But not before she got a good look at his memorable front side. As she had suspected, beneath his shirt he had a broad chest with a massive triangle of dark hair that disappeared somewhere beneath his flat stomach, short of his unwhisperables. His nipples formed perfect peaks on the swells of muscle. He looked magnificent, as though created from some novelist’s imagination.

Bewildered at his outburst, and not sure whether it was a question or profanity, Kaira refused to respond and stood rooted in place, unable to pry her stare off the man.

What she was doing was simply unacceptable, yet she couldn’t help herself. Unsuccessfully, she attempted to transfer her gaze to his feet, but that didn’t help once she got midway down his exquisite, scantly dressed body.

Hypnotized, she boldly held a fortuitous stare on Quinten, shocked to think that as a well-bred lady she had such an overwhelming desire to reach out and boldly touch him. To see if his skin was as warm and strong as his fingers, if his muscles would harden beneath her touch, if the heat that filled her body like a prairie fire would flame hotter yet.

“What in the hell are you staring at?” He furiously snatched his pants from a nail. “I can’t even have any privacy in my own place! Get the hell out of here.”

“Well, I’m not leaving, so go ahead and put on your trousers-”

“Jeans-” His angry retort hardened his features.

“Jeans, trousers…you still put the same, uh, necessaries in them as any man, don’t you?”

Not expecting a response, she inventoried the room as Quin turned his back, tucked in his shirt, and buttoned his fly.

A massive worktable anchored the room, allowing for little furniture. A stove, washstand, and cupboard in the corner made for a makeshift kitchen.

“You just don’t seem to be able to follow instructions. I said get out.” He ground the words between his teeth.

“Not until you terminate me or we get things straight between us.” She spoke boldly, matching his ire.

“Don’t tempt me. You have no idea, sweetheart, just how close you are to being thrown to the wolves…” Quin pushed past her and headed for his desk. “And they love fresh meat.

“You’re not cut out for this business. I’ll send a telegram to your grandfather advising him that you are on your way back to Boston. I don’t know why in the hell he sent you here in the first place, but I bet he had a reason.”

Uncomfortable with his accusations, Kaira flinched at the words spearing her heart. Grandfather did nothing without a reason. He told her he’d chosen Texas to send her to learn the business, but was that the only reason? She responded in a firm, decisive voice. “I’m not going anywhere. Besides, we have a contract.”

“Yes, a contract that says you’ll work here as an apprentice for three months. In exchange for your help, I’m to teach you the rag business. Something you don’t seem to take seriously.”

“Why are you so angry?”

“Why not?” He shoved the trash can aside and jerked open a drawer. “You take over my bedroom. Interfere with my work. Refuse to do yours. And, in general, you are more trouble than any man deserves.”

“Are you irritated because I had items shipped from Boston and changed a few things in the bedroom?”

“A few things!”

“It’s the lace curtains, isn’t it?”

“No…Yes. It’s the, uh, everything. The frilly, girlie stuff everywhere I turn. That damnable ugly hat you wear. The prissy china basin and pitcher. Soft and velvety pillows and the bedcovers. What in the hell did you do with my quilt?” Not waiting for her answer, he vented on. “Why all that satin and lace on my bed?” He thrust the drawer closed with such force that it knocked over his pencil holder.