Page 6 of Singing For His Kiss

She was never going to trust another man again.

David was handsome in that rugged, cocky cowboy type way. He sucked her right in with that look easily enough. Reeled her in like a fish. James was the epitome of tall, dark, handsome and obviously had money. No doubt he’d have a trail of equally sophisticated women after him. He’d probably treat them well. Make them feel special. Make them feel loved.

A sharp, humourless laugh escaped her lips. She’d been watching too many Hollywood movies. Everyone wanted to be Pretty Woman...well, not the prostitute part, but the part where the hero doesn’t care a whit about the heroine’s background. Unfortunately, that type of thing didn’t happen in real life.

James seemed different, but really, how would she know? How could she know about any man? She might daydream about a perfect partner, someone who might care for her, but in reality it would only ever be a fantasy. That life - wanted. Loved. Cherished. That life didn’t happen to girls like her.

Elizabeth sighed, returning to the moment. She didn’t know how long she’d been standing here, but her fingertips were wrinkled. Reluctantly, she ended the shower and dried off.

The bedroom door was closed, so she padded across the room to her bag wrapped in the delicious soft luxury of the enormous towel. She rifled through the contents of her bag, trying to work out what to put on. She only owned a few articles of clothing. She bit her lip, scanning the few items tossed on the bed. Most of her clothes were well and truly crumpled. The few she’d thought decent looked old and worn compared to the luxury of the house.

With a sigh, she pulled fresh jeans on, ignoring the sun-faded wrinkles. There was a stain of something on her thigh the Homestead’s washing machine had failed to clean completely out. Her spare T-shirt had a hole in the side, but beneath a jumper no one would know.

She glanced at herself in a full-length mirror. She looked as though she’d fit in here just as well as a round peg in a square hole, but at least she was warm and clean now. Thanks to the good quality shampoo and conditioner, her hair fell in long, silken waves halfway down her back. The sun had streaked her hair with natural highlights. Blonde and auburn strands all mixed and matched together.

She’d let her hair grow while she’d been at the “Wanderers Homestead”, opting to wear it in a practical ponytail to keep it out of the way. Riding horses was dirty, sweaty work and didn’t warrant even brushing her hair half the time.

She dug into her meagre cosmetics. She didn’t own much, but a touch of lipstick gave her some colour at least. She gave herself another critical review in the mirror. She looked like the blow-in she was and definitely not a part of James’s plush world. Instead, she ran her palms down her thighs, tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, wondering why she’d noticed anything about James at all.

Not that fact that he was tall and handsome and had looked at her in that understanding way, as though he actually knew what she’d been through in her life and it didn’t scare him. They were worlds apart. No amount of understanding would make her fit in this world, and there was no way he’d want to journey into hers. They were simply poles apart, a freak accident bringing them together for a few hours. A kindness replayed.

She didn’t even know why she was thinking about James and boyfriends and her sad, lonely history at all. She was a stranger who had saved his daughter, and he was showing some thanks. End of story.

She was clean and warm. Soon she’d have something to eat, and then she’d be out of his life forever.

The sooner, the better.

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