At sundown, they made camp in a clearing next to a cool, rushing stream shaded in the slope of a craggy gulch. Sam rubbed down, watered, and fed the horses, laid out bedrolls for them both, then began preparing himself and Annie a trail supper of beans, bacon, corn dodgers, and coffee. Annie washed up at the stream, brushing out and rebraiding her hair, and changing into a fresh shirt and jeans. She rinsed out her dusty clothing, spreading the wet items out to dry over several small cedar trees.
Night had fallen by the time she returned to camp, the light of the fire guiding her path. She entered the clearing to spot Sam hunkered down by the blaze, stirring a steaming pot of beans. He was hatless and appeared very sexy with the firelight shooting glimmers into his dark hair and the fabric of his shirt and jeans pulled tight against his muscled body. The smells of bacon and strong coffee laced the crisp night air.
When he glanced up frankly at her, her heartbeat quickened and a pulse surged to life between her thighs. Heavens! The tension between them was still thick enough to cut.
"Well, you look a mite better all scrubbed up," he greeted her. "Hungry?"
Placing a small bundle on her bedroll, Annie plopped down Indian style not far from him. "Sure."
He handed her a cup of cool water. "Grub'll be ready in a moment."
"Thanks."
Remembering her nightly ritual, Annie grabbed her purse, opened it, and took out her birth control pills. She removed a pill from the container and downed it with water, then glanced up to see Sam regarding her suspiciously.
"What's that you just swallowed?"
Annie replaced the packet in her purse and set it aside. "A pill."
He regarded her with a deep scowl. "You ailing?"
"Nope." Feeling a stab of resentment, she added, "Don't worry, it wasn't cyanide, and my wrists are already healing as well. Looks like I'll make it to the gallows in perfect health—so I won't be slowing you down, bounty hunter."
He regarded her darkly. "I wasn't worried about you slowing me down."
Knocked off kilter by his response, Annie glanced away. She felt a stab of guilt for assuming Sam had quit binding her wrists more out of expediency than true concern.
He shoveled food on a plate and extended it toward her with a fork. "Here, take this."
"Thank you." She took a bite of beans. "This is good."
"Well, it ain't the Windsor Hotel in Denver, but it'll do."
Intrigued, she asked, "Is that where you stay when you're in the city?"
"I keep a suite there."
Annie laughed in pleasant surprise. "Ah—then you're not completely rootless, or unfamiliar with the trappings of civilization?"
He appeared bemused. "I reckon not."
"How long before we get to Central City?" she went on casually.
He glanced up at the gray night skies. "A week, I reckon, weather permitting," came his strained reply.
Annie was pleased to hear that note of tension in Sam's voice. Perhaps he wasn't entirely comfortable with the prospect of watching her swing at the gallows.
Perhaps she was managing to weaken his defenses that first, tiny bit. If so, she had best keep up her friendly assault.
"So tell me, bounty hunter—how long have you been hunting desperadoes?" she ventured.
"Oh, nigh onto twelve years."
"What kind of criminals have you nabbed?"
He scratched his jaw. "Let me see . . . Dozens of train and bank robbers. A good score of murderers. Assorted claim jumpers and road agents. During my years working for Judge Parker, I hauled in killers and rapists, whiskey peddlers and horse thieves."
"Did you ever meet him?"
"Oh, yeah. I'll allow the judge is a good-natured sort, if a staunch Methodist. I once went to services with him and his Mary, and they even invited me to Sunday dinner afterward."
"Why aren't you still working for him?"
Sam glanced away uneasily. "Parker's a fair man, but unbending in enforcing the law. I reckon after a spell, watching all them multiple hangings didn't go down too well."
Annie laughed humorlessly. "Yes, hangings can do that to a person."
They regarded each other warily for a moment.
Sam cleared his throat. "After a few years trackin' for Parker, I concentrated more of my efforts in Colorado, doing work for Judge Righteous, and for the sheriff of Arapahoe County."
"So, tell me about your activities in Colorado."
"Well, I once nabbed a flimflam man who drove 'round the Colorado hillside in his bandwagon, selling hundreds of bottles of sugar water to a gullible public, claiming all the while that he had discovered a miracle blood restorative that would cure all their ills. He was a character, that one. Entertained me all the way to Central with stories of his exploits. Even old J.D. couldn't bear to sentence him to more than a few weeks in the county jail."
Annie couldn't restrain a smile, especially at this hint of leniency in Judge Righteous. "But most of the desperadoes you nabbed weren't nearly so nice?"
"Nope." His gaze narrowed. "One of the worst cases I ever worked was in the hills above Colorado City. At the time, I was staying with an old friend, Ben Kenton, a U.S. marshal, and I helped him with the investigation. We were called up to a miner's cabin in the Rockies, where we found a woman and her six daughters horribly slaughtered."
"How awful!" Annie cried.
He nodded grimly. "Jim and I tracked the father clean to Wyoming Territory. When we caught the bearded old fanatic, he claimed Jesus told him in a vision that his wife and daughters were defiled, and only their blood could cleanse them. He said we should rejoice 'cause they were in heaven now."
"My God—how sick!" Annie gasped. "Why do you suppose he did something so vicious?"
Sam stared into the fire as in the distance a coyote began to howl. "Maybe he was just mean crazy. Sometimes the mountains, and the isolation, makes folks touched. Anyhow, it was clear to me he'd been consorting with Satan incarnate, not any deity. It sure was hard to take him back alive—but it was a pure pleasure watching him swing in Colorado City."
Annie sipped her water, keeping her fingers steady with an effort. "Have you killed many men, Sam?"
His features grew taut. "A few that wouldn't come along peaceably. I prefer taking them in alive—and they smell a heap better."
She blanched.
He glanced up at her quickly, his expression contrite. "Hey, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. You know what I'm doing . . . well, it ain't nothing personal, Annie."
Annie's restraint evaporated. "Sure, it is. I take losing my life for something I didn't do very personally. Let me tell you something, bounty hunter. If you're looking for absolution from me, you're not going to get it."
He glowered, then turned away, pouring them both cups of coffee.
"You killed many women, Sam?" she continued with deceptive mildness.
He drew a heavy breath and handed her a cup. "Truth to tell, over the years, I've apprehended very few females—only a few whores stealing from their customers, that sort of thing. I've never before tracked a female wanted for murder."
"Ah—then you do squirm a bit at the prospect of watching me hang?"
"I ain't saying I relish it, Annie."
She fell silent, toying with the remnants of her meal with her fork. "What do you intend to do with your life, aside from tracking desperadoes?"
"You sure do ask a lot of questions," he grumbled.
"You mean you don't have an answer?"
"Just what are you asking?"
She waved a hand. "Well, you must like to do something besides bounty hunting—something for intellectual enlightenment or fun."
His eyes glinted with amusement. "You mean women?"
She might have known that would be the first response from a rascal like him. "Well, yeah."
He glanced at her wryly. "I'll allow there've been a few."
She raised a brow. "Any of them you liked enough to settle down with?"
He chuckled. "Reckon I've done most of my loving on the run."
"Have you ever wanted something more than just a few minutes upstairs at the local saloon?"
He glowered. "Hey, I ain't that desperate."
"Neither do you have a woman who means more to you than the fleeting pleasure she can bring you. Am I correct?"
She could tell by his perturbed expression that she was making him think. For a long moment, he gazed soberly out at the star-dotted heavens. "Maybe I can't afford to have a woman who means too much," he admitted at last.
"Oh?"
He drew a deep breath. "The life of a bounty hunter is wild, rough, and usually brief. I reckon someday before I get too old, I'd like to have a wife, and a son to carry on my name. But my missus will have to be a docile type and accepting of my wandering ways." He glanced at her meaningfully.
"Ah, so you wouldn't want a headstrong creature like me?"
A sensual grin lit his features. "Well, sugar, guess that depends on what you mean by 'want.' But it's true: When I marry, I'm wearing the pants and making the decisions for my family, and my wife will have to be a real lady who knows her place."
Annie made a sound of outrage. "Oh, you're such a throwback! And to think I bought into the myth of the Old West hero, that I even wanted to meet a retrograde jerk like you. I always assumed a strong man would want a strong woman. But that's too much of a threat to your vanity, eh, cowboy? Instead of wanting a wife who is your equal, you set your sights on a spiritless 'little woman' who will keep the home fires burning while you trot off on your adventures and have all the fun."
Sam was scowling formidably. "I ain't saying my wife should be spiritless, only feminine and uncomplaining like my ma." His expression softened. "She was the one my sister and I could count on when our pa was off gambling, drinking, and womanizing." He shot her a fervent look. "And if you think she wasn't a strong woman, then you best think again, sister."
"Of course I agree that what your mother did was admirable," Annie quickly reassured him. "Especially since she had every right to chase down your father with a shotgun. But was what your father did—deserting and betraying your mother—fair to her? She raised the children and shouldered all the responsibilities while he did as he pleased, shutting her out of his life completely. That's what I find so unjust. Why can't a woman share a man's world?"
"I ain't claiming my pa was fair to my ma," Sam replied heatedly. "But it is a decent woman's lot to support her man and raise his family."
Annie threw a twig at him. "Oh, give me a break!"
Grinning, he batted away the missile. "It's the gospel truth. Any female with other notions in her head has got to be a temptress and a Jezebel."
"Like me?" Annie snapped, eyes bright.
"Well, you're a temptress, all right."
"And you're a sanctimonious bigot," she retorted. "Don't you realize you're really just like your father? Do you also have a woman in every town?"
Sam raised a fist and spoke vehemently. "I ain't like my pa at all. I earn my living respectable, upholding the law. My woman will have to accept that I won't be home often. But I'll always provide for her and our children."
"Oh, yeah, you're really Mr. Perfect, aren't you?"
"Didn't you say I live by a code?" he demanded.
Their hot gazes locked for a long, meaningful moment. "You have a point," she conceded, setting aside her dishes with a rattle. "I'll concede you're not like your father in every way. Still, if you're away from your wife a lot . . ."
"What wife?" he asked.
Annie could feel her face heating as she irresistibly looked him over. "Well, I guess I meant if you should marry, a man of strong urges like yourself . . ."
Something very sensual and dangerous flared in his eyes then. "What do you know about my urges?"
A shudder shook Annie as she realized she'd pushed Sam a bit too far. This man was getting to her, and the attraction she felt for him was clouding her judgment. His hot look rattled her, making her realize how close he was—how close they both were—to losing control.
Her gaze shied away from his. "I—I think it's time to call it a night."
His arm reached out and seized hers. "I said, what do you know about my urges?"
His touch burned her. She gulped. "Nothing."
He laughed. "Right. Are you trying to tempt me, woman?"
Annie fought the confusion welling up in her. "I'm trying to get through to you any way I can!"
He smiled.
"But I don't want to talk about your urges!"
"You brought it up."
"So I did." She eyed him steadily, though she was trembling badly. "Sam, please let go of my arm. I'm tired, and I want to get ready for bed."
He released her at once, but when she stood, he was there beside her. His long arm caught her about the waist and he pulled her close. Even as she tried to wiggle free, he seized her face in his large, rough hands and tipped it up toward his.
Annie spotted the intensity blazing there and was riveted. Oh, Lord, she was in deep trouble now! Her heart roared.
Desperately, she whispered, "Sam, please, no—"
He didn't respond, only lowered his passionate face toward hers and brushed his lips over her mouth. Annie winced as if he'd seared her with a flame.
"You tempt me, Annie," he whispered, "whether you intend it or not."
Annie wasn't even conscious of who made the next move; she only knew this fevered longing was bursting inside her. Suddenly their lips met with sweet, blinding passion. Sam pushed his tongue inside Annie's mouth with brazen eroticism, giving no quarter as he gently probed and tormented. Dizzying torrents of heat shot down her body, tingling in her breasts and settling deep in her belly. Annie felt unnerved, exhilarated, and very vulnerable. She ached everywhere Sam's heat touched her. She clung to him, reeling with desire.
Sam's fingers found the tie on her braid and pulled it free. At his boldness, a hot shiver racked her to the core. Instinctively she shook her head as he parted the loose plaits, then buried his lips in her unbound hair. His incredibly sexy gesture filled her with aching tenderness.
She felt his long, warm fingers sliding through the tresses and heard his hoarse voice. "You make me so plumb crazy, woman, I don't know east from west. You look at me with those big blue eyes, like you're tempting me to melt you. Well, sugar, ask for it and you're going to get it."
Annie's mind struggled to conjure up a denial . . . but what was the point when her hungry woman's body was already losing the battle? She could feel the demanding passion coursing through Sam as well when he kissed her again. She wasn't sure just how they ended up on the ground together, side by side, and tightly embraced. She only knew the pressure and heat of Sam's solid body felt wonderful against her own, that his male scent heightened her yearnings to a fever pitch. Heaven help her, she'd been ravenous for more of him ever since he'd kissed her earlier today. She was surely shameless, but she felt hypnotized, out of control.
Abruptly his mouth left hers and he grazed his lips over her cheek. Chills consumed her and she panted for breath. His huge palm settled over her breast, arousing her nipple even through the fabric of her shirt. And the need inside her built to unbearable fervor.
This time, Annie kissed Sam, possessing his mouth with her hungry lips, her eager tongue. He rolled and pulled her on top of him, roving his hands down her spine, exploring the curves of her bottom. His fingers moved to the buttons on her shirt, pulling impatiently.
A whimper escaped her as Sam drew the tip of her breast inside his hot, wet mouth and wickedly caressed her with his tongue. She cried out, writhing at the unbearably pleasurable sensation, and his steely arms clamped down hard to restrain her wiggles. He drew her breast deeper inside his mouth and relentlessly resumed his erotic stroking. Harsh little cries escaped her. His fingers slipped inside her jeans, caressing her bare bottom, tilting her pelvis into his rigid erection.
Releasing her nipple, he buried his face in the valley between her breasts, the roughness of his whiskered skin sensually abrading her. "God, you're so soft, so sweet," he rasped.
And he was so male, so hard!
He rolled her beneath him, his fingers unbuttoning her jeans. Annie was on fire and couldn't wait to be filled by him. Distantly, some voice of sanity warned she could be making a terrible mistake, but she refused to listen. She was reaching between their bodies to unbutton him when all at once his hand caught hers. She could feel his entire body tensing, could hear his tortured breathing as his mouth abruptly released hers.
"Shit!" he cursed.
"Sam, what's wrong?"
He rolled off her, sat up, and ran his fingers through his hair. He appeared to be a man in agony, his breathing tortured, veins standing out on his neck and in his temples.
"I don't know what come over me," he muttered. "I can't do this."
Intensely frustrated, Annie sat up beside him. "What do you mean, you can't do this? Isn't it the woman's prerogative to be coy?"
He reached out to pull a small twig from her hair. He drew a ragged breath. "I'm caught between what my pa would no doubt find irresistible and what my granddaddy would call a moral dilemma. I can't go to bed with you then take you to Central to be hanged. What's worse, I think you know it and that's exactly what you're banking on."
Outraged, Annie shoved his shoulder. "Oh, of all the arrogance! I think in your convoluted way, Sam Noble, you just called me a whore."
"I did not."
"You did so! You're saying I'd trade my body for my freedom, aren't you? Well, if I'm that ruthless, you tell me this: Why didn't I just shoot you in the head last night at the hotel when I had the chance?"
She watched an exquisite struggle cross his face, his eyes seething with turmoil.
"Well, Sam? Has it occurred to you that I might be turned on by you, too, that a woman can have passions as strong as a man's?"
He shot to his feet. "It's time for us to turn in. We've a lot of ground to cover tomorrow."
Annie bolted up beside him. "That's right, be a typical male. If you can't win an argument, bury all your emotions and just walk away from it."
He waved a hand in exasperation. "What do you want me to say, Annie? That I was out of line? All right, I behaved like a scoundrel. I'm sorry. There, are you satisfied?"
"Well, maybe it's a beginning." Annie caught a steadying breath and took a moment to calm her raging emotions. "You know, Sam Noble, I've made an effort here. All day long, I've been trying to get to know you better. Has it occurred to you that you haven't asked a single question about me?"
All at once his gaze avoided hers. "Getting to know you wouldn't make what I have to do any easier."
Tears clouded her eyes. "And how about having my breast in your mouth? Does that leave you slightly conflicted as well?"
Contrite, he reached out to touch her arm. "Of course it does."
She flung off his fingers. "Especially since, if you listened, it might open your mind a bit."
He appeared bewildered. "Open my mind to what? Annie, it's your face on the wanted poster."
"Damn it, you're like a broken record." With a fierce sigh, she went to get her bag, then returned to his side. Taking out her wallet and opening it, she thrust her driver's license into his hand. "Take a look at this."
He pushed the card back toward her. "I said I'm not interested in your bag of tricks."
"And I say look at it, damn you! After what just happened between us, you owe me at least that much."
Coloring, he glanced at the plastic card, then emitted a low grunt, as if his stomach had been punched. "My God! What's this? This has a picture of you—in color."
"Keep looking," she ordered.
He was shaking his head in bewilderment. "But a color picture isn't possible."
"Then why are you holding it? I said, ‘keep looking’!"
He stared at the card, his expression growing thunderstruck. "'Texas Department of Public Safety'? 'Expires 1998'?" He paused, running his fingers over the smooth surface. "And what in hell is this made of?"
"Something you've never seen. It's called 'plastic.' And I've more proof where that came from—credit cards, my Social Security and medical IDs—"
But Sam shoved the driver's license back at her, as if it had burned him. "It's got to be a trick."
Annie was exasperated. "It's not a trick, Sam. You've simply got all the stubbornness—and sense—of a mule."
Sam was blinking rapidly in betrayal of his agitation. "Put that haywire doohickey away. I swear if I see it again, I'm throwing your entire bag of tricks into the fire."
Gritting her teeth, Annie shoved the card and her wallet back inside her bag. She stalked away, climbed inside her bedroll, and turned her back to him.
***
Sam sat gazing into the fire for a long time. What on earth was going on here? Why couldn't he figure out Annie? Why couldn't he keep his hands off her, or control his own raging needs and emotions? Even now he was still burning for her, still tasting that hot, velvety mouth, still smelling that intoxicating hair that had spilled through his hands like heavy silk.
She'd spoken to him about finding a woman who meant more to him than just a quick roll in the hay. This woman was beginning to, he realized. And it scared the living hell out of him.
Could she be telling the truth? Sam had never before seen anything like this "plastic" card she had just showed him, complete with a color picture of herself.
But if she was telling the truth, that would mean she had traveled across time. How could that be possible? Worse yet, if she was being honest, that meant he was wrong—dead wrong. Instead of apprehending a murderer, he would have kidnapped an innocent woman . . . and would have violated everything he believed in! His pride recoiled from that horrifying possibility.
He drew his fingers through his hair and groaned. He realized his head was splitting. Surely what Annie claimed was impossible. He stared at her back, gazed at her bag lying beside her. Part of him wanted to grab that witch's poke and learn every secret she kept inside there.
Part of him was scared to death of the unholy object and wanted to hurl the cursed satchel into the fire.
What was he going to do? He couldn't seem to figure out the truth or understand the strange power this woman held over him. Was she a clever liar and brazen seductress, or simply a victim of his own misguided obsession for justice?