Read Mr. Wonderful for Free Online

She gasped. In her bathhouse, in her old enameled bathtub, was a cowboy. He was up to his neck in hot thermal water, wearing only a hat tilted low over his forehead. Shafts of sunlight poured through the cracks in the roof, illuminating his broad shoulders and large feet. The rest she could only imagine.
    He turned his head. Electric blue eyes met hers and gave her a long appreciative look.
    "Hello, darlin'," he said with a lazy grin. "What can I do for you?"
    She swallowed hard. "You can get out of my bathtub."
    Obligingly he braced his hands on the edge of the tub and stood.
    She should have closed her eyes.
    She should have looked away.
    She should have run for her life.
    But she didn't. She stood there and stared at the lean, hard body of a magnificent man in all his naked splendor. Her face flamed. Her knees wobbled.
    He came to his senses first and planted his hat against his muscular thighs. "Have a seat," he said, waving his other hand in the direction of a wooden bench along the wall.
    "Who—who do you think you are?" she sputtered.
    "Who do you think I am?" he inquired. Tiny drops of water slid down his chest, caught in the damp blond hair there and caused her heart to pound erratically.
    "I think you're an intruder and you're trespassing on my property," she said stiffly.
    "Your property..." A whole series of emotions— including shock and surprise—crossed his craggy face. But he recovered quickly. "Then you must be..."
    "Chloe Hudson."
    "Zebulon Bowie," he said extending his hand to grasp hers. "My friends call me Zeb."
    "Mr. Bowie," Chloe said, trying to ignore the large callused hand that held hers and didn't let go. "What are you doing here?"
    "What does it look like?" he said with a mocking smile.
    "It looks like you're taking a bath in my tub, and I would appreciate it if you, if you... if you..."
    What was wrong with her, allowing the presence of a naked stranger to cause her mind to go blank and her body to hum like a live wire? She was a nurse, for heaven's sake. She'd seen naked bodies before. But not like this one.
    "If I would make room for you? No problem," he assured her. "You look like you could use some hot water."
    Again the frankly sexual gaze raked her body and caused an instant and unwanted reaction. Her nipples peaked against the damp silk shirt that was pasted to her body.
    "And a cold beer," he added.
    "I don't drink beer," she said primly while her face burned and her parched throat ached for something cool, anything. But accepting a drink would make it look like he was the host and she was the guest. And make it all the more difficult to kick him off her property.
    "Too bad," he said, letting her hand go and reaching behind him to grab a pair of clean jeans and a shirt from a shelf above the tub. "Made it myself. Won second prize last fall at the county fair."
    She exhaled slowly. Her mouth was as dry as a cotton swab. "Well, maybe just a sip," she said weakly.
    He nodded and brushed past her on his way out the door, causing her to tremble uncontrollably for no reason at all. Except that she'd had a long, hard day. And it wasn't over yet.
    Zeb stood in the shade of an evergreen tree and pulled his jeans on over muscled calves and thighs. Then a clean, though wrinkled, shirt went over his damp head of hair. His skin cooled rapidly in the dry air. But his body was hot and buzzing with awareness.
    So this was Chloe Hudson. If he'd known she had long gorgeous legs that didn't quit, spectacular breasts clearly outlined by a clingy damp silk shirt, and a face the angels would envy, he would have... What? Given up his plan to buy her property and resell it at a huge profit? Not a chance. Not even if she'd jumped in that tub with him and he'd watched the water bead on her smooth skin, traced its path with his tongue as it trickled down her neck.... What did she need an old hot-springs resort for? He, on the other hand, had a desperate need for cash. Now. And no need for sexual gratification. Not