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intense physical attraction, but chances were they didn’t have anything else in common, dammit.
    She washed her hands and left the small bathroom—er, head. What a strange name.
    “Would you like to shower now?” Scott was drying the plates they’d used. “There’s soap, shampoo and clean towels.”
    “That would be great. I would’ve helped clean up the dishes.”
    “I took care of it.”
    “Thanks.” Would he take care of her with the same efficiency? Don’t think of that, Les. “Um, I just realized, I don’t have any clean clothes to put on.”
    Scott stared at her, his eyes growing dark again as if he might be imagining her naked.
    “Do you have a T-shirt or something I could wear?” she prompted, since he didn’t offer.
    “Oh. Yeah. But they’ll be way too big.” He disappeared through a doorway and returned a minute later with a giant T-shirt and pair of drawstring shorts.
    “These will work. Thanks. I’ll try not to use all the hot water.” She rushed back into the bathroom.
    ***
    Forget the hot water. Scott needed a cold shower, slushy-ice cold, preferably outside in Siberia. He hadn’t been this horny in eons. Her sitting on his lap had done it, and the way she’d brushed her breasts against him in the galley. Not to mention the way she watched him while they ate, as if she wanted to nibble on him instead of the steak. He didn’t need the sex show next door, either. Then to find Leslie watching them through the window. If she didn’t have a boyfriend, he’d be all over her.
    The shower water turned on, humming through the pipes. His imagination kicked in, conjuring an image of her naked, stepping beneath the warm spray in the tiny shower.
    His erection had been at full mast for the past ten minutes, insistent, demanding—and thankfully, concealed behind his sporran.
    He inhaled deeply, trying to block out the disturbing fantasies running through his mind—Leslie’s red hair and blue eyes, dark, in the candlelight. Her creamy skin flushed pink and hot from a warm shower. The imagery was so real, he almost felt the heated softness of her breast and her hard nipple against his lips. He would stroke his fingers between her legs and find her tight little pussy slick and hot for him.
    He cursed and closed the window to block out the neighbors, then pressed a hand firmly over his rigid cock. That felt good, but not as fantastic as she would. “Down, boy.” Of course she already knew he’d had an erection in the car. And then she’d teased him about being a lady’s man and questioned whether he liked women.
    Ha!
    He loved playful, teasing, sexy women. Like her.
    Damn! What I could do to her.
    “I can’t think of that,” he muttered and forced himself to visualize something unappealing, like falling naked onto a hive of bees. He winced and paced.
    But his hard-on remained persistent.
    Guilt gnawed at him. His current predicament reminded him of what had happened with Isabel. She’d been engaged to Scott but another man had turned her head, a more sophisticated man who got a haircut once a week and wore only starched white shirts and the finest silk ties. Scott wasn’t the type to snatch a woman from her boyfriend. He knew exactly how Fletcher would feel, and it was hell.
    Scott had to get out of this situation as soon as possible. Tomorrow, he’d call the Sheriff’s Department again, and then cruise around looking for the two men who’d tried to shoot them. And Leslie wasn’t coming along, no matter what. Maybe he and the deputies could set up some sort of sting that would convince the thieves to pursue him in his truck again. Of course they might have to get a female deputy to pose as Leslie. Then the cops could nab the guys.
    And he would be out of this tight spot.
    But he wanted to be in a tight spot. Hers . He glared at the kitchen cabinet where he’d stuffed the paper bags earlier. Paul had slipped two dozen condoms into the bottom of one of the grocery bags, shocking Scott