Page 69 of The Promise of Jenny Jones
“I didn’t find any earrings,” she said in a faint voice. While Graciela tore through the remaining packages, she looked at Ty. “You had a shave, and you bought every article of women’s clothing in Chihuahua.”
He laughed and handed her a paper packet. “This is a fever powder. The chemist said to mix a tablespoon in hot liquid and take it three times a day.” Stepping close to her, he cupped her chin in his palm and lifted her face. “Your eyes are a little bright and your skin is flushed, but you look… beautiful. Did you wash your hair?”
She closed her eyes and swallowed, swaying toward him. “I had a bath,” she whispered.
Would she ever get used to his touch? Was it possible to imagine a time when he would touch her, and her bones didn’t melt? When that look in his eyes didn’t pour warm honey down the inside of her skin? Would the time ever come when she could stand this close without wanting to wrap herself around him and dissolve into his warmth and strength?
Stepping back, she touched her fingertips to her temples and shook her head. “Maybe I should take some of that powder now. I am feeling feverish.”
Graciela tugged on the wrapper Jenny had found in the packages and put on after her bath. “Look. These are our earrings. They’re real turquoise and silver!”
The kid was so pleased that Jenny didn’t mention that she had never had her ears pierced and wouldn’t be able to wear the earrings.
“The shop had earrings with blue stones that weren’t real turquoise, but Uncle Ty said, ‘not for his girls.’ Uncle Ty bought us the real ones.”
“I’ll be horn-swoggled,” Jenny said softly. Bright color infused the cowboy’s face. She would have sworn Ty Sanders was incapable of a blush. A slow grin curved her lips.
“It was a stupid comment,” he said irritably, turning away.
“Your girls, huh?”
“I’m going out for a drink. When I’m ready for supper, I’ll bring back food for us.” He jammed his hat on his head and slammed the door behind him, then opened it again and peered inside. “I’ll send someone up with hot water for the fever powder.”
“Much obliged,” Jenny said, grinning at his glare. After the door slammed the second time, she gazed at the two beds and wished she hadn’t been knifed, wondering.Maybe…
“Did you try on the hats?” Graciela called, holding up a straw heavy with silk flowers. “I like this one best.”
Jenny wrenched her gaze from the bed. What the hell was she thinking? Even if she’d been healthy as a horse, nothing was going to happen between her and Ty. Not in this room. Not with Graciela a few feet away. Sighing, she sat down at a small table and watched Graciela try on the hat. She could understand how a man and a woman made one child. What was more difficult to grasp was how they found the privacy to make a second.
When she realized she was worrying about things she had never in her life expected to even think about, she laughed out loud and shook her head. It must be the fever.
Long after Graciela had fallen asleep beside her, Jenny lay awake listening to Ty toss and turn in the bed next to theirs. Eventually, he threw back the blanket and walked through a wash of white moonlight to the waistcoat hanging over a chair. A minute later she saw the flare of a match and smelled cigar smoke.
“Bought new long johns, too, I see,” she commented softly, smiling in the darkness. The long johns pulled tight across his shoulders and chest, sagged a little behind. He didn’t have much of a butt. Must have pounded it off galloping after cows.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” He returned to his bed, mounded the pillows against the headboard, then leaned against them, smoking in the darkness.
“I’ve done nothing but sleep for almost twenty-four hours.”
“How are you feeling? Did the fever powder help?”
“I think it must have. And my stomach doesn’t hurt like it did. Hell, I’m as tough as an old hen. Always did heal fast.”
“Jenny… come over here.”
Her heart rolled over in her chest, and she caught a quick breath. But she hesitated, fighting the siren call of temptation. “No sir, I’m not getting in a man’s bed with a kid in the room,” she said, as prim as a preacher’s wife. Except for the hint of regret.
“Just what kind of low bastard do you think I am?” She couldn’t see his glare, but she felt it and almost laughed. “Nothing’s going to happen in this bed except some kissing and some touching and a whole lot of frustration on my part. Now get on over here.”
Temptation won. Actually, it wasn’t much of a contest. “Well… I would like a puff off that cigar.”
Easing away from Graciela, she carefully slid off her bed and tiptoed around his. Lifting the hem of her new white nightgown, she crawled up beside him. “Give me one of those pillows.”
“Can’t do it, I need them both. You’ll just have to snuggle on me.” He opened his arm and she drew a breath, then slipped in beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. Oh Lord, it felt sogood.
“You’re like cozying up next to an oven.” But she didn’t move away from the hard heat of him. Reaching up, she took the cigar from his mouth and put it between her own lips, drawing the smoke out slowly. “Ahh, that’s wonderful. I’ve been wanting a smoke all day.”
After she exhaled again, he took the cigar from her fingers and stubbed it in a dish on the table between the beds. “Why didn’t you get a cigar out of the saddlebags?”
