Colton's Lethal Reunion (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

And he knew there was nothing he could or would do to stop her. The reality was, her work was dangerous. Her life was in potential jeopardy every time she went out to question someone.

Any day could be her last.

And he was sitting on the end of her bed, wasting perfectly good hours, when he could be soaking up the essence of her.

And hopefully bringing her pleasure. Maybe even making her happy.

They’d both stopped talking about the case. Had been studying each other for a good minute.

“I want to make love with you.”

She continued to stare at him.

“I’m here.” He shrugged. “Who knows if I’ll ever be here again? Twenty-four hours ago, we were doing it. What’s one more time going to hurt?”

Maybe plenty. He had no calculator for such a thing. He also had to ask. Something was telling him she needed him as badly as he needed her.

“We’ve got a few more hours until dawn,” he said. “Let’s not waste them.”

His heart dropped when she nodded and pulled back the covers.

* * *

She’d let herself down by spending the night with Rafe again. She wasn’t going to make it worse by beating herself up over it. So she blamed it on emotional residue that was the result of having allowed herself to be carried by her hero down the mountain to safety.

She didn’t have a hero. Didn’t need one.

And would have kept herself safe up there. She’d been ready to pull her gun if she had to. Would probably have suffered worse injuries in the scuffle, might have been off her shot. Getting down the mountain in her condition would have been challenging.

But facing challenges was what she did.

Daylight saw her feeling fine, injury wise, in the shower, and ready to put sex with Rafe Colton behind her. Though, if anything, that second night of lovemaking had been better than the first. Slow and tender, they’d peaked together and then had fallen asleep with their bodies still joined.

It happened. And was done.

Now she had to get to work. It was the only choice before her.

As had happened the day before, he’d been out of bed by the time she’d fully woken. As soon as she heard him close the door to the hall bath, she’d scurried into her own ablutions. Planned to beat him to the coffeepot.

She liked her brew her way—a combination of medium and dark roast, French and Italian. She was high maintenance, so sue her. As long as she was the only one being called upon to maintain herself, there’d be no problem.

Cup in hand, half-empty already, she faced the hall as he came down it.

“No more sex,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “I only do that when I’m in a committed relationship,” she told him. “The first night...well maybe we owed that to the past...but no more. We can work together. I recognize that I have a better chance of finding Tyler’s killer if I have help, and I understand your need to help. Just like having you with me at the hospital gives me quicker access to whatever we might be offered, and also might help people open up to us, a

s it makes our questions more personal. Our minds always seemed to meld well and solve problems, even as kids, but that’s it, Rafe. Don’t think you’re going to insinuate yourself into my investigation of Ace, to sway me in his favor. And do not ask me for sex again.”

His blue-eyed gaze seemed to be pleading with her.

“If I don’t say no again, I’ll start to hate myself. So I’m asking you not to put me in that position.”

His nod told her she’d won.

So how come she felt like such a loser?

* * *

For all the excitement they’d found on Mustang Mountain the past couple of days, that day they only ran into a couple of hikers, tourists who were on their way from Tombstone to Bisbee and were spending the night in Mustang Valley. Kerry filled them in on eating choices, spending more time selling them on Bubba’s Diner than on Rafe’s two preferences: Lucia’s and the steak and seafood house. He didn’t intervene. What did he know about being on a tourist budget?