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Can't Hardly Breathe
by Gena Showalter
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Daniel palmed his semiautomatic and plunged to the floor, using the bed as a shield. His finger twitched on the trigger as a bead of sweat rolled into his eye. The screams in his head failed to drown out the sound of his thundering heartbeat as he searched for--
Bang, bang!
He cursed. The door. Someone was knocking on the door.
Disgusted with himself, he glanced at the clock on the nightstand: 1:08 a.m.
He frowned. As he stood, his dog tags clinked against his bare chest. He pulled on the wrinkled, ripped jeans he'd tossed to the floor and anchored his gun against his lower back. He would rather walk around naked than go without a weapon.
Foregoing the peephole, he looked through the crack in the window curtains. His gaze landed on a dark, wild mass of corkscrew curls, and his frown deepened. Only one woman in town had hair like that--every strand made to be tangled in a man's fists.
Concern overrode a new surge of desire as he threw open the door, the hinges squeaking. A cloud of lavender enveloped him, his head fogging, desire overriding his concern.
Down, boy.
Dorothea met his gaze before ducking her head and wringing her hands. Earlier today, freckles had covered her face. Unfortunately, a thick layer of makeup now hid them.
"Is something wrong?" On alert, he scanned left...right... The hallway was empty, and there were no signs of danger. As many times as he'd stayed at the inn, she'd only ever spoken to him while cleaning his room...which might have something to do with his early-morning departures. There'd been no reason to grapple with temptation. "Are you all right?"
"I'm, uh, fine." Her shallow inhalations came a little too quickly, and her cheeks were chalk white. "I'm fine."
Somehow her tone was shrill and breathy at the same time.
He relaxed, though his confusion remained. "Why are you here?"
"I...uh... Do you need more towels?"
"Towels?" His gaze roamed over the rest of her. She wore a bulky ankle-length raincoat, hiding the body underneath. Had a storm rolled in? He listened, but heard no claps of thunder. "No, thank you. I'm good."
"Okay." She licked her porn-star lips and toyed with the tie around her waist. "Yes, I'll have coffee with you."
"Now?"
A defiant nod, those corkscrew curls bouncing.
He barked out a laugh, surprised, amazed and delighted by her all over again. "What's really going on, Dorothea?"
Her eyes widened. "My name. You remembered." When he stared at her, expectant, she cleared her throat. "Right. The reason I'm here. I just... I need to talk to you." The color returned to her cheeks, a blush spilling over her skin. "May I come in? Please. Before someone sees me."
What could Miss Mathis have to say to him? He ran through a mental checklist of possible problems. His bill--nope, already paid in full. His father's health--nope, Daniel would have been called directly.
If he wanted answers, he'd have to deal with Dorothea...alone...with a bed nearby...
Swallowing a curse, he stepped aside and motioned her in.
She rushed past him as if her feet were on fire, the scent of lavender strengthening.
I could eat her up. But he wouldn't. Wouldn't even take a nibble.
"Shut the door. Please," she said, a tremor in her voice.
He hesitated but ultimately obeyed. "Would you like a beer while the coffee brews?"
"Yes, please." She grabbed a bottle from the six-pack he'd brought and popped off the cap. He watched with fascination as she drained the contents.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist and belched softly into her fist. "Thanks. I needed that."
She placed the empty bottle on the dresser. Her gaze darted around the room, a little wild, a lot nervous. She began to pace in front of him. She wasn't wearing shoes, revealing toenails painted yellow and orange, like her fingernails.