Marrying for King's Millions / The Spanish Aristocrat's Woman. Maureen Child

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      This was his room, right?

      Yes, he’d used his key to get in. It had to be his room. There was his hat, still hanging on the corner of the mirror where he’d forgotten it yesterday.

      Hell of a thing, a rancher forgetting his hat.

      He opened the other door and was relieved to see his jeans and bloodstained shirt hanging just where he’d placed them, his boots side by side on the closet floor with his socks inside them and his briefs in the plastic bag supplied by the hotel. The bag with his change of clothing, however, wasn’t there.

      Well, hell. He hated to wear dirty clothes, but he didn’t have time to track down his bag. By now, everyone in Fort Davis knew about the accident anyway. The town was like that.

      The three cowboys who’d given him a ride into town had stopped at the sheriff’s office and Caid, hardly able to speak because his head hurt so badly, left them to make the report while he crossed the street to the hotel. Sheriff Elan knew where to find him if he needed more information.

      Elan’s secretary would have typed up the report first thing this morning, and by now everyone and his dog would be discussing it anywhere in town serving breakfast.

      All of which meant Caid and Durig could have a friendly chuckle over his bloodstained shirt without Caid doing any unnecessary explaining, and then they could settle down to business. No problem.

      Since he’d showered last night, all he needed was a quick shave and he was outta here. His kit was in the bathroom so at least he knew where that was.

      The bathroom, however, produced another surprise. For one thing, there were women’s toiletries all over the counter. For another, it had the steaminess of recent use. And for a third, damn it all, his kit was nowhere to be found.

      To hell with it. He didn’t have time now to get huffy with the staff or find out what in blazes was going on, but they were damn sure gonna hear from him later.

      Eyeing the proliferation of feminine articles, Caid used what he could. He wasn’t about to use the woman’s toothbrush, but he used his finger and her toothpaste, then shaved himself in record time with her pink disposable razor.

      Grimacing, he put on his socks, stepped into yesterday’s briefs and jeans and tugged on his boots. He was avoiding putting on his blood-soaked shirt and he knew it, but he had to wear something.

      He glanced at the closet door. All he’d seen earlier was feminine clothing, but maybe her husband’s things were hidden among the frills. If so, he’d borrow a shirt and explain later. For that matter, once he had the loan against the sale of his five hundred acres, he’d buy the guy a new one.

      The closet held nothing but feminine disappointment. As Caid went to close the door, however, his gaze fell on a long, brown-plaid sleeve.

      Hmm. Pulling out the garment, he held it up consideringly and found a woman’s cotton jacket with western shirt styling. Best of all, it was huge, extra-wide shouldered and boxy, with detachable shoulder pads.

      In seconds, Caid had the pads out and the shirt on. Not too bad, he thought, eyeing himself in the mirror. The shirt was tight across the shoulders maybe and pulled a little at the chest, but it was clean.

      He rolled the too-short sleeves up his forearms, snagged his hat and headed out the door. He had to shoulder his way through a lobby full of milling tourists, but finally stood on the Limpia’s front porch in the bright morning sunshine.

      Inhaling deeply, he grinned. Nowhere in the world had summer mornings like the Davis Mountains.

      But that deep breath played hell with his delicate head, and when he went to put on his hat, he found he couldn’t tolerate that either. Fortunately, the bank was just across the square from the hotel.

      He wished he’d had time for a cup of coffee, but Durig would give him one.

      Two hours later Caid was back at the hotel, dismayed, disbelieving and totally disturbed. No one had given him a cup of coffee.

      Hell, no one had given him the time of day.

      Marlie had breakfast at The Drugstore, the oddly named restaurant across from the hotel, then shopped a little before returning to her room to change into hiking boots. The state park three miles out of town had a couple of good hiking trails, she’d been told.

      Driving to the park, admiring the mountain scenery and shallow, sun-sparkled Limpia Creek running beside the highway, Marlie did her best to forget the last semester of school where she was counselor at Martinez High in San Antonio. And since hiking was right up there with sweaty necks on Nicholas’s hate list, she managed to keep him out of her thinking, too.

      That evening when she walked into the lobby of the hotel, she was pleasantly tired and pleasantly full, having had dinner and watched the sun set at the restaurant in the park.

      Ann smiled at her in greeting. “Good evening, Ms. Simms. How was your day?”

      “Wonderful, thanks. This is a beautiful area.”

      “It is, and I say it as one who’s lived here all my life. Is everything all right in your room?”

      “Everything’s fine. It took me a while to get used to the thin walls, but I suppose that’s a minor price to pay for the hotel’s history. The man in the next room kept me awake for a while with his moaning and sneezing. Sounds like he’s coming down with a cold.”

      “I’m sorry,” Ann apologized. “We’ve never had anyone complain about noise through the walls before. Actually, they’re pretty thick. I’m even more surprised because there are two maiden ladies in the room next to yours, both probably in their seventies.”

      “One of the sweet things has a sneeze like a water buffalo,” Marlie replied with a grin. “But once I knew where the sound came from, I had no problem sleeping through it.”

      She glanced around the deserted lobby. “After the crowd this morning, it’s certainly quiet now. Where is everyone?”

      “Out looking at the stars. Most of them won’t be in till the wee hours.”

      “Then would anyone mind if I browse the hotel bookshelves and read for a while in the parlor?”

      “Not at all. We want our guests to feel at home.”

      “Be right back,” Marlie said as she headed up the old-fashioned staircase to pull off her hiking boots.

      When Caid heard a key rattle in the lock, he turned away from the window and his perusal of the street below to deliberately step toward the center of the room.

      The door swung open and a woman entered, switching on the overhead light as she did so. His roomie, apparently.

      Somewhere between mid-to late-twenties, she had short tousled brown hair, a snub nose with a dusting of freckles across it, a generous mouth, and eyes that he couldn’t tell the color of but which were bordered with thick lashes the same shade as her hair. She was a little on the short side perhaps, but feisty with it, he could tell.

      The woman was just plain cute, he thought, the kind of cute that in a puppy would СКАЧАТЬ