His rough refusal surprised her. She looked up into eyes as cold and bleak as a winter moon.
"It's the least I can do to thank you for being a gentleman," Eden said softly.
"Take me to your motel room?" Nevada asked, his tone sardonic.
"You know that isn't what I meant."
"Yes. But I mean it." Nevada freed his left hand, hesitated, then let out his breath with a whispered curse. His fingertip skimmed the curve of Eden's lower lip with aching slowness. "Stay away from me, Eden. I'm a warrior, not a knight in shining armor, and I want you more than all the men in that bar put together."
Abruptly Nevada turned and walked away, leaving Eden standing motionless in the icy twilight, watching him with a mixture of shock and deeply sensual speculation in her eyes.
2
The big Appaloosa threw up its head and snorted.
"Take it easy, you knothead," Nevada said soothingly. Then, without turning around, he added, "Morning, Ten. Hear anything from Mariah and Cash?"
Tennessee Blackthorn was accustomed to his brother's uncanny ability to tell when he was being approached from behind, and by whom. Even so, Ten had hoped that after almost two years on the Rocking M, Nevada would lose some of the habits of a guerrilla warrior. But he hadn't. He had the same fighting edge to his reflexes and senses that he had had in the mountains of Afghanistan, where he had taught warriors with flintlocks how to defeat soldiers with tanks. Nevada had the same intense discipline and concerted lack of emotion that he had learned in Afghanistan. Even the Rocking M's cowhands had given up betting on when – or under what circumstances – Nevada Blackthorn would truly smile. "Cash called late yesterday," Ten said. "Mariah's doctor said she was fine. Apparently she missed the flu that was going around here."
"Good."
"Speaking of being sick, are you sure you should be on your feet? That was a fair fever you were running yesterday."