Blackwolf's Redemption

Whatever had happened between them last night… No way could she face him this morning. It was too embarrassing….

Or maybe too tempting to just look up into those probing eyes, move against him, say his name and offer herself to him so they could finish what they’d started.

You really must be crazy, she’d told herself, and she hadn’t moved a muscle. She’d faked sleep until, finally, he’d risen to his feet and walked away, his fading footsteps so determined, so obviously a message that she knew she’d done the right thing.

It was daylight, the storm was over.

And Jesse Blackwolf would be delighted to see her gone.

She felt the same way. She wanted out, the sooner the better. If she moved fast enough, she might even avoid facing him, because what did a woman say to a man after she’d been naked in his arms? After he’d touched her with hot intimacy even though they were strangers?

Sienna threw her arm over her eyes. Just remembering made her face heat. She’d never done anything like that in her life. She wasn’t into hooking up with a guy for the night. She’d been with two men and she’d known both for months before things had progressed that far. And even then, she hadn’t felt the way she’d felt with Jesse last night.

The liquid rush of pleasure. The shocking realization that she was, that she wanted to be, totally out of control. The desire to let a man do anything he wanted to her…

Sienna shot to her feet. She was wasting time when there was none to waste.

Surely, a house like this had a zillion bathrooms. She needed to shower away yesterday’s grime. And Jesse’s touch. His intimate, knowing touch.

The house had two wings. She headed for the opposite one. The very first door she tried opened onto a bedroom, and, yes, it had an attached bath. Sienna shut the bedroom door, locked it, went into the bathroom and locked that door, as well.

Not that a locked door had stopped Jesse last night.

If he came for her…

Her heart began to race. No. She wasn’t going there. He wouldn’t come, and even if he did, she’d have no difficulty telling him she didn’t want him.

She stripped off the sweats, let them fall to the floor. She’d have to wear them again. Her own stuff was probably still wet and mud-soaked…and who gave a damn what she wore? What mattered was getting out of here.

A bar of wrapped soap and small, unused bottles of shampoo and conditioner stood on a marble ledge. No doubt about it, this was a room for guests.

A bubble of crazed laughter rose in her throat.

Had there ever been a stranger guest than she? A 2010 guest in a 1975 world?

“Do not start on that now,” she said—and thought, Great, now she’d taken to talking to herself. But Herself was right, this wasn’t the time to worry over the impossibility of her situation.

After she left here? Yes. But not now.

She showered, shampooed in record time. Turned off the water. Toweled off. Ran her hands through her hair. Put on the, ugh, dirty sweats. What else? Did she owe Jesse a note? Maybe there was pen and paper in one of these drawers. Even if there were, what would she write?

Dear Mr. Blackwolf…

A little formal, all things considered.

Dear Jesse: Thank you for everything.

No good, either. She wasn’t about to thank him for everything.

Okay. How about, Hi, thanks for the sweats. I’ll mail them back once I’ve bought something else to wear….

Sienna stood still.

Buy clothes? With what? She had no purse. No wallet. That meant no cash, no checkbook, no charge cards, no ATM card. If she was hallucinating, that wouldn’t be a problem—but she wasn’t. She knew that now, even if she didn’t want to think about it. Absolutely, she didn’t, because if she did, she’d end up in that psycho ward.

Her hands began trembling. Hell, all of her was trembling.

She took a deep breath, but it wasn’t deep, it was shaky. Still, she took another. Held it. Let it out. Did it again while her thoughts scrabbled around like laboratory mice in a cage.

Forget the note.

Just go.

But she needed a plan.

She’d start by walking to the main road. There had to be a main road, even here in the middle of nowhere. Step two, flag down a ride. Get to town. Find a branch of her bank. It was a major bank, there had to be a branch in Bozeman. In fact, she’d seen one on her way from the airport….

But that was then.

This was now. This was another time.

Who knew if the bank existed?

Don’t do that, she told herself as she cracked open the bedroom door. Don’t think negatively. Think positively. Assume the bank was there. She’d go in, tell them her stuff had been stolen, that she had an account in a branch in New York and could they arrange for a cash transfer, and yes, that sounded great except she didn’t have an account at a branch in New York, not yet, she didn’t have an account anywhere.