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have in mind.
    â€œPlease,” she repeated. “I could give you gas money if you wanted.”
    â€œGas money?” he parroted, laughing again, wryly this time. But he pushed himself to a sitting position and then got off the mattress. “I’m gonna want more than gas money.”
    Abby wasn’t up to asking what that “more” might be. She just wanted to get out of there and home to familiar territory.
    Since she was dressed, she threw off the covers and got to her feet, too, although not without stabbing pains shooting through her head.
    For a moment she had to close her eyes against it. When she opened them again, it was to find Cal Ketchum watching her once more. Standing there in all his glory with big bare feet spread apart, tight jeans zipped but not fastened at the waistband and the tails of that yellow shirt dangling around his hips, leaving a flat, rock-hard stomach and just enough chest showing for her to see the smattering of hair there.
    No one should look that good first thing in the morning, barely dressed and clearly without having paid any attention to his appearance. There should be a law, she thought, wondering just how unsightly she was herself.
    â€œHow about some breakfast before I take you home? You can call your sisters and let ’em know where you ate.”
    Just the mention of food raised her gorge. “I don’t think so. Thanks anyway.”
    â€œCoffee? Tea? A little hair of the dog?”
    â€œI don’t dare.” Eat, drink or stay any longer than necessary with this man whose appeal was so potent. “But I could use the bathroom.”
    He pointed to a door beside a tall antique bureau. “Through there. Towels and washcloths are in the cupboard. Feel free to shower if you want. I’ll even lend you some clothes—just say the word.”
    No way was she taking off any clothes within ten miles of this man. It would be too tempting to leave them off.
    â€œI might just wash my face.” Because it felt as if someone had slathered it with mud. “But then I’ll need to go home. Right away.”
    He made a slight tsk sound from the corner of his mouth. “Too bad.”
    Abby didn’t stick around to discuss it. She went into the bathroom, closed and locked the door.
    But the lock clicked into place with an inordinately loud noise that seemed to admit that she didn’t trust that he would respect her privacy.
    â€œDon’t worry, Abby Abby,” he reassured through the panel, reminding her of the teasing he’d done the night before, too. “I won’t storm the door and ravage you. I like my wild women willing.”
    Abby groaned to herself and dropped her face in both hands as if someone else could see her grimace at her own follies.
    But then it occurred to her that wallowing in embarrassment was only prolonging things and the sooner she got down to business, the sooner she could get home.
    She took a look at herself in the mirror, and almost wished she hadn’t.
    Her hair had been in such an unruly style that it hardly looked different than it had when she’d done it. But her face was something else entirely, and the thought that Cal Ketchum had seen her like this made her groan all over again.
    Dark black smudges ringed her eyes in a raccoon effect. The blush she’d applied wasn’t her usual pale shade, so it didn’t enhance her natural color; it sat on top, adding an orangish tint that clashed. The raisin shade of lipstick was gone except to leave her lips looking bruised. And the foundation she’d applied had cracked and caked into the creases of her chin and nose.
    She looked as if she’d barely survived a hard Halloween.
    And as much of a hurry as she was in to get home, she couldn’t make herself walk back out and face the rear-end cowboy knowing what he’d be seeing. Even if he had already seen it.
    The bathroom was large, but showed the decay of the years in