Charon's Crossing

The familiar, imperious look settled once again over Matthew's face.

"That is your right, madam. I ask only that you observe the rules of propriety so that neither of us is disgraced while we share the same domicile."

Kathryn laughed. "I don't believe it! You, talking about propriety? You appear like a rabbit popping out of a hat whenever you feel like it, you vanish in a puff of smoke when it suits you, you stand around kibitzing when I'm trying to have a serious conversation with someone—"

"Kibitzing? What does that mean?"

"It means making a pain in the ass of yourself."

His eyebrows rose. "My, my. Such inelegant language. I'm astonished."

Kathryn's smile was all teeth. "Stick around," she said. "You ain't heard nothin' yet!"

Matthew strolled past her to the stove. "The coffee's ready." He leaned forward and took a sniff of the steam rising from the pot. "Mmm. It smells wonderful."

"It is wonderful." She turned just as he took a mug from the cabinet. "I happen to make terrific coffee, but not for you," she said, snatching the mug from his hand, "for Jason."

"Jason." His voice was tinged with disdain. "The man who fears rats and a bit of dirt."

"Jason," Kathryn said coldly. "The man I'm engaged to marry."

Matthew's eyebrows shot skyward. He kicked a chair out from under the table, turned it around, straddled it and sat down.

"That explains it," he said.

"Explains what?"

"Why you were so unwilling to sleep with him. The rules of the game are unchanged, I see."

Kathryn's eyes narrowed. "What game?"

"The one in which a woman plays at remaining virtuous since she knows that a man will not marry her if he believes otherwise."

"Aha," she said.

She leaned back against the counter, her arms folded. God, Matthew thought, she was incredibly lovely. Anger had swept color into her cheeks and darkened her eyes to a stormy blue. Her breathing was quick, so that her high, rounded breasts rose and fell with a cadence that made his body tighten.

How easy it would be to kick aside the chair, go to her and take her in his arms, kiss her until all that anger and heat turned to desire and passion.

Hell, he had to be going mad. How could he hate her one minute and want her the next? She was too stubborn by far, too cantankerous.

And then there was the little matter of Cat's blood, tainting her veins.

He had forgotten what in hell they'd been talking about.

"Aha, what?" he asked, frowning.

"Aha, you are such a dense male, Captain McDowell." Kathryn slammed a handful of silverware onto the table. "The times have changed I'm happy to say. Women aren't judged by a double standard anymore."

"With regard to what?"

"With regard to sex. Today's women have the same freedom of choice men have always had."

He shrugged. "There have always been females willing to lift their skirts for the men who asked them."

"You're not listening. I'm telling you that women don't have to play games. If a woman wants to sleep with a man, she does."

"Just like that?"