Page 71 of Native Hawk
“What?” Miss Hattie looked genuinely shocked.
“He cut her lip and bruised her cheek,” Cat said. “If that is the man who took Jenny, then we must pray for her welfare.”
Miss Hattie gave Drew a sidelong glance.
He told her pointedly, “And if someoneelsetook her, I’m thinkin’ they prob’ly put her on a stage to someplace safe.”
Miss Hattie nodded. Her reply was notably humbled. “Well, if that’s the case, then I owe that man an apology.”
Drew gave her a subtle nod, and Miss Hattie excused herself.
Once the madam was gone, Cat poured them both a glass of whiskey.
Drew downed it all at once and blew out a steadying breath.
He didn’t know why he had such a case of the jitters. People got married all the time. His own parents had been married. Marriage never killed anyone. Why he was so nervous, he couldn’t say. But he had to calm down before he blurted out something stupid. “Think Miss Hattie’ll ever get married?” Like that.
“Miss Hattie?” she said, raising her brows. “Who knows?” She held out the bottle to refill his glass. “Life is uncertain.”
He took a slow and cautious sip of whiskey, stalling for time. “I suppose a woman like her with a business and all might not think she needs a man.”
Damn it all! What was he doing? If he weren’t careful, he’d undermine all the arguments for wedding him.
“Shedoesn’tneed a man,” Cat said with a measure of pride. Then she lifted a suggestive brow. “The question is does shewanta man?”
He studied her face. “And do you think she does?” He hardly realized he was holding his breath for her answer.
“It’s hard to tell,” she answered carefully. “I am certain it depends upon the man.”
Why did it suddenly feel like they were gunfighters circling each other with their fingers twitching above their holsters, each one waiting for the other to draw?
Worse, Drew didn’t feel like he was getting any closer to asking his question or getting his answer. As crass as it sounded, he knew he would be much more comfortable if they were both wearing less clothing.
“Shall we get undressed?”
Shit, that sounded like an invitation to tea. What was wrong with him? What had happened to his slick, smooth-talking way with women?
She answered with more enthusiasm than he expected. “Yes.”
Maybe he hadn’t lost his touch after all. He set down his whiskey. By the time he got the buttons undone on his shirt, she was already down to her camisole and drawers. Things were looking up.
He hooked his shirt over the bedpost. She stretched her arms above her head and let out a blatantly phony yawn. Then she slipped hastily beneath the covers. Now they were getting somewhere.
But he got in such a big hurry to catch up that, purely out of habit, he whipped off his undershirt. He would have stripped out of his drawers too, except for the gasp from Catalina.
Thankfully, it wasn’t a gasp of horror. In fact, she looked pleasantly impressed as her gaze fell to his bare chest. Her jaw loosened. Her eyelids lowered. Her eyes smoldered with desire.
Pretending modesty, he clutched his undershirt to his chest in one fist.
“Would you prefer I…”
“No,” she was quick to reply. “No. It is fine.”
Drew smiled to himself. He could tell it was more than fine. Cat liked the look of him. Nothing could have made him happier. He hung the undershirt on the bedpost too.
When he turned back, the breath stuck in his throat. Cat was toying with the ties of her camisole.
Afraid to breathe, he watched as she slowly pulled loose the bow and let the lacy edges part.
