Page 6 of Fool's Gold

She clung to her side of the bed, feeling it sag as he climbed in. He took up too much room, making her feel small and vulnerable. She watched his muscles ripple as he reached across her to turn out the light. As his chest brushed against her breasts, she gasped.

He smiled down at her, a gunfighter's smile, relaxed and sure of victory.

She shrank away from the contact, laying her head back onto the pillow.

"What, no goodnight kiss?" he asked.

She glared at him. There was a need in his eye that didn't correspond with his mocking tone. "Dream on, buddy."

It was going to be a long night.

THE BED MOVED AS SHEmurmured in her sleep and rolled over. Something shook her shoulder, but she ignored it. A swat to her bottom forced her to sit up.

Rafe was dressed, and there was a strained look on his face.

"What did you do that for?" she sputtered.

"It's time to start your new life as Mrs. Raphael Halliday, wife. Rise and shine."

Sarah yawned. "What time is it?"

"Four-thirty. Mrs. Murphy starts breakfast right about now. If you plan to take over her duties, you'd better get a move on, Sarah. You do know how to cook, don't you?"

She frowned.

The crease between his mouth and cheek deepened as he smiled in response.

"Don't worry. You won't starve."

He grinned. "It's not me I'm worried about. It's the hands. They're used to Rose's lovely home cooking. I don't want them to up and quit after they get a taste of yours. Good hands are hard to find."

She yawned. Maybe being a housekeeper wouldn't be the snap she'd expected. "So cold cereal and toast aren't what they're used to?"

"Afraid not, sugar. The hands want a hot, hearty breakfast, and they want it in an hour." His brown eyes twinkled. "Think you can handle it, wifey?"

"Stop calling me that," she grumped back at him. "You stink, Halliday, you know that?" His answering smile made her grit her teeth. "Get out of here so I can get dressed."

She scowled as he swaggered to the door. His cocky attitude made her blood boil!

He'd been right. Sleeping in the long johns had been a bad idea. She'd roasted all night. But roasting wasn't half as bad as lying next to Rafe and not reaching over to hold him. She had spent weeks fantasizing about what sleeping with him would be like. Now, she couldn't let herself touch him when she had the chance. If she did, she had a feeling she'd be trapped.

And would that be so bad?a little voice in her head echoed.

Rafe stopped in the doorway and stated, "Time's a wasting. You won't have time to primp and preen in front of the mirror this morning."

She threw her pillow at him. It bounced off his head.

He grinned, picked it up, and lobbed it back at her. "If you wanted to play, you should have done it while I was still in bed. Although, you're about as sexy as old Zeke, dressed in that union suit."

She glanced down at her red long johns as the door closed. They were warm and serviceable and about as sexy as warm mush. That was why she'd chosen them. She'd used them to fend him off like garlic with a vampire.

Awhile later, Sarah hastily scraped the burned bits off a stack of frazzled toast when there was a noise from behind her. She went to hide the evidence and then gave it up as a lost cause. How could you hide a disaster as big as the Titanic?

She glanced over her shoulder, blowing a sweaty tendril of hair away from her damp face.

Rafe stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his hips, eyebrows raised, as he surveyed the mess.

She resisted the urge to throw a piece of burned toast at him and reminded herself it had been her idea to save his reputation.

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