Under other circumstances, she would have taken issue, but he looked so tortured—so magnificent—that she was temporarily struck speechless. She eased up into the pillows, her comfy haven no longer feeling quite so safe. Something had deeply upset him, and for once, she didn’t think it was her. He cracked his head on the caravan’s curved roof. A blistering blasphemy split the air followed by a gust of wind that shook the wagon.

She licked her lips. “Uhm, it’s probably not good to take the Lord’s name in vain until the weather’s a little calmer.”

“Are you naked?” he demanded.

“Not at this precise moment.”

“Then hand it over. Whatever ugly piece of crap you’re wearing.” The slivers of moonlight coming through the window carved his face into blunt planes and enigmatic shadows. “The game’s gone on long enough. Give it to me.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he said flatly. “Hand it over, or I’m coming in to get it.”

If another man had talked to her like this, she’d have screamed her head off, but he wasn’t any man. Something had cracked his shiny facade, and he was hurting. Even though she was jobless, penniless, and homeless, he was the needy one. Not that he’d admit it. Neither of them played the game that way.

“You’re on the pill.” Last week, he’d initiated a pointed discussion about blood tests and sexual health, and he already knew this.

“Yes, but—” Once again, she had to keep herself from admitting she took it more for her complexion than for her sex life. In the meantime, he walked over to the cupboard, slid open a built-in drawer at the bottom, and pulled out a pack of condoms she hadn’t put there. She didn’t like his premeditation. At the same time, she appreciated his common sense.

“Give me that.” He pulled the flashlight from her fingers, tossed the condoms down, and whipped back the sheet that covered her. The beam of light hit her BODY BE BEER T-shirt. “You’d think by now I’d have lowered my expectations, but I keep hoping.”

“File a complaint with the fashion police.”

“How about I take the law into my own hands?”

She braced herself—hoped for?—some bodice ripping, but he disappointed her by dragging the flashlight beam along her bare legs instead. “Very nice, Blue. You should show these off more often.”

“They’re short.”

“And sweet. They do the job just fine.” He pushed up the hem of her T-shirt. Just a few inches. Just far enough to expose the only other garment she wore, some unimaginative, nude-colored, hip-hugger panties.

“I’m buying you a thong,” he said. “Red.”

“Which you’ll never see.”

“How do you figure?” He moved the beam across the panties from one hip bone to the other, then back to home base.

“If I do this—”