True-Blue Cowboy - Vicki Lewis Thompson Page 0,33

her arms for the box.

He handed it over. “I figured you’d want to know about it right away.”

“You figured right.” She carried the box into the living room, set it down on the carpet and knelt beside it. “I’ve been reading the journal she kept for the months leading up to her wedding.”

“Oh, yeah?” He followed her in and hunkered down beside her. “Interesting?”

“Illuminating. She was a sensual woman, which was so obvious to me during the time I knew her. She’d virtuously saved herself for Gerald and she could hardly wait for her wedding night. I’d hate to think she died a virgin.”

“Um, yeah.” Nick coughed.

She glanced at him and smiled. “Are you uncomfortable with this subject?”

“Sex? No, ma’am.”

“Your cheeks are as pink as they were when Ellie Mae talked about you during the auction.”

“It’s not the subject matter. It’s the individual connected with the subject matter. I have a hard time imagining… in fact, I’d rather not imagine Miss Barton… getting it on.”

“She wasn’t always a little old lady.” She turned her attention to the box and folded back the flaps.

“But that’s how I knew her. And unlike you, I didn’t have conversations with her that revolved around the subject.” As Eva delved into the box, he glanced away. Maybe he shouldn’t stick around for—

“Oh, my goodness.” Eva’s voice vibrated with excitement. “Look at this.”

He looked and immediately regretted the impulse. The red satin nightgown she held up was a combination of satin and mesh inserts. The inserts had been strategically placed to highlight significant portions of a woman’s body. The juicy parts.

“Nick, you’re bright red.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t stay here while you sort through the box.”

“Maybe not.” She sounded amused.

“I’ll just go back to what I was doing.”

“Excellent plan.”

He took the first set of stairs like his tail was on fire. Great aerobic exercise. The second set was tougher to keep the same pace, but he arrived in the attic panting. It wasn’t just visualizing Miss Barton in the nightgown that had him by the short hairs. He’d quickly derailed that train of thought.

But he couldn’t erase the image of Eva holding up that red satin number. He was half-crazy with wanting her as it was. If she ever wore something like that, he’d go out of his ever-loving mind.

Chapter Sixteen

As Nick pounded up the stairs to the attic, Eva began unpacking the box and spreading the items around her on the carpet. Winifred’s collection included satin corsets in various colors, thigh-high boots, fishnet stockings, crotchless panties and several transparent negligees.

Nick’s progress back down the stairs was more hesitant. Either he was carrying something very heavy or he’d figured out he’d have to pass by her to reach the hall. She was going with reason number two. Grinning, she surveyed the colorful array of racy items.

He appeared lugging a wooden crate and walking briskly. On his way through the living room, he cast a furtive glance at the items on the carpet. Then he gasped and froze in a perfect deer-in-the-headlights stance. “Good Lord.” His cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink before he bolted.

She was still giggling when he came back through.

“Not looking,” he sang out as he hurried toward the stairs and bounded up to the second floor. His voice drifted down to her. “Any chance you could tuck those back in the box for now?”

She swallowed another giggle. “Of course.”

“Thanks.” He continued up the next set of stairs.

Before beginning that task, she took out the final item—another journal. The one stored in the black trunk had a virginal white cover, likely chosen on purpose to signify Winifred’s determined chastity. The vibrant red cover on this one practically glowed. Eva longed to untie the red ribbon holding it closed and dive right in.

No time. Laying it aside, she began repacking the sexy items. By using a battered old cardboard box and labeling it Odds & Ends, Winifred had disguised the contents beautifully. Good thing the tape had come undone or this box likely would have been the last one sorted. If someone else had bought the house, the box might have been tossed in the trash unopened.

But no one else would have bought the house, because she was destined to have it. Closing the flaps on the box, she moved it to a corner of the living room.

She’d just retrieved the journal from the floor where she’d left it when Nick came down with another cardboard box. He handled it as if it weighed nothing.

Balancing it