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Holy hell.
He tossed his backpack on the desk and dug inside for his toothbrush, a comb and a fresh black T-shirt. He shot a glance at Breely, who stood looking out the window. He remembered how embarrassed she’d been standing outside the posh hotel, wearing the clothes she’d worn to work at the tavern.
“I have a clean T-shirt if you want to wear it instead of your work shirt,” he said.
Breely turned, biting her bottom lip. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.” He dug in the backpack and pulled out another black T-shirt and tossed it her way.
She caught it and held it up in front of her.
Moe wasn’t a big guy, but Breely was petite. The T-shirt would hang almost to her knees.
She smiled brightly. “Thanks.”
“You can have the bathroom first,” he said.
With a nod, she grabbed the spare toiletries kit and a brush from her purse. With the T-shirt over her shoulder, she ducked into the bathroom.
Moe crossed to the window and stared out at the Denver skyline and the streets below. He didn’t much care for cities, preferring the wide-open spaces and mountains of Montana and Wyoming. Having grown up in the farmlands of South Dakota, the buildings packed close together and the crowds made him long to get back in the air, away from traffic, road rage and cranky people.
Standing where Breely had stood, looking down at the bright city lights, he could see the city from an entirely different perspective. Breely had been more or less a prisoner on a ranch in Montana all her life. Being the daughter of a very wealthy man hadn’t been the perfect life everyone would have assumed. She’d probably never walked down a city street, smelled the variety of delicious foods available to enjoy or sat in a jazz club, listening to a band playing.
As late as it was, they’d have to settle for a bar and grill. The restaurants would be closed, but the nightlife was just getting warmed up.
The bathroom door opened a lot sooner than he’d expected.
Moe turned as Breely stepped out, her red hair pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head with soft, loose curls cupping her chin. She’d traded the Tumbleweed T-shirt for his black one. With the sleeves rolled up to her shoulders and a knot tied in the hem that rested on her hip, she looked like a hip city girl ready for a night on the town.
“Is this okay?” she asked.
“My T-shirt never looked better.”
Her cheeks flushed a soft pink. “Thanks.”
Damn, she looked good. Her stubborn determination to be independent, coupled with her innate vulnerability, had Moe tied in knots. One minute he wanted to shake her; the next, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss that pretty mouth until she opened to him completely.
His pulse pounded through his veins, sending hot blood south where it had no business. He’d promised not to hurt her or make love to her unless she asked him to. And what were the chances of her asking him to make love to her when they’d only met a few hours ago?
He brushed past her. “I’ll only be a minute.” If his tone was a little gruff, good. Maybe she’d remain distant from him if he remained grumpy and angry. It wouldn’t be hard to do, considering the level of sexual frustration building steadily since they’d entered the hotel room.
He closed the door and drew in a deep breath. If he had time, he’d jump in a cold shower to shock his libido into submission.
His stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten much at the tavern, preferring not to fly on a full stomach. Now, he was hungry, horny and needed something to distract him from the pretty redhead.
Moe stripped out of his shirt, ran cold water into the sink and splashed it on his face. It wasn’t the icy shower he needed, but it would have to suffice. With a hand towel, he patted his face dry, then pulled his fresh T-shirt over his head and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. He couldn’t help comparing the reflection of him in a black T-shirt with Breely in a duplicate shirt. That knot at her hip made him want to untie it and push his hand beneath the hem to touch her naked skin.
If he didn’t pull his head out of those kinds of thoughts, he’d have to take the time for that cold shower. After quickly combing his hair, he brushed his teeth and left the bathroom.
He found Breely staring out the window again.
“They call New York City the city that never sleeps.” She turned to Moe with a twisted smile. “I think Denver might be the same. Back on the ranch, we were in bed by nine-thirty. It took me a while to get used to working the Friday and Saturday night shifts until 2:00 am.”
“Does anyone ever get used to working that late?” He held her jacket up for her to slip her arms inside.
She pulled it over her shoulders and turned with a smile. “I learned to sleep late the next morning.”
“You can sleep in tomorrow.” Moe folded his leather jacket over his arm, still too hot to wear it. “We don’t have to fly out at ten o’clock.”
