Ill Take Forever

something to give him, get him away. Get him off this line of questioning before he realized the truth.
    'I... there's a bathrobe you could use. But you should hurry, he'll be along soon.' She moved slowly to the closet, opened the door a little and reached in for a large blue terry-cloth bathrobe. It was large on her, but would be much too small to fit the stranger. Still, it would half to do until his own clothes were dry. She thrust it at him.
    He took it, glancing around again.
    'Mind if I take a shower, too?' he drawled.
    She was momentarily off guard. Maybe he didn't mean to harm her after all, just get dry and warm. Maybe things would be okay and he'd leave when he was warm again.
    'I don't care what you do as long as you get out of this room,' she said, glaring at him.
    'Will I have time before your husband gets home?' he said, watching her closely.
    'I hope not!' She turned away, willing him to leave, wishing she could push him out the door, out of her home.
    'I might chance it.' He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
    Jenny moved to sit on the edge of the bed, straining to hear him, hear where he was, trying to envision what he was doing. She looked around her bedroom. There was nothing with which to wedge the door shut, nothing she could place as a barrier to his returning if he so chose. How she wished she had a lock for the door.
    The noise from the bathroom penetrated her thoughts. He was taking a shower. Of all the nerve, first he broke in, now this!
    Could she sneak in and surprise him, overpower him while he was not expecting her? She rose, then realized he probably would have locked that door— that room did have a lock. Anyway, once she had done it, what was she to do, find something to tie him up with, try to stay awake until someone else arrived, watching him all the time until she could be rid of him? She could throw the gun out into the snow if nothing else. Turning him out wouldn’t work; he had no qualms about breaking her window, he'd just come back in from another opening. And would probably be angry, too.
    She could dress quickly, take off. If he was in the shower long enough she could get to the car. And then what? The snow would probably prevent her from even getting out of the driveway. And she couldn’t take off into the blizzard without protection. That’d be crazy.
    She pondered various plans, discarding one after another, trying to come up with something, anything, nothing coming to mind that she felt would work under the circumstances. Maybe she’d be okay; he'd left her alone so far.
    'My clothes should be dry soon.' His voice came from the door.
    Jenny looked up in fright, her throat going dry, her eyes wide. He’d opened the bedroom door. Framed in the opening his long legs showed below the short terry robe, broad shoulders straining the material, the robe barely covering him, open at the throat.
    He stepped in. 'Where's your husband?' he asked, moving close to the bed, looking down at her.
    'He'll be along soon, had to go to—um—to Lake Tahoe on business.'
    'No, there's no man living here. There are no clothes in the closet, no razor or aftershave in the bathroom. No signs of a man.'
    Jenny's eyes dropped. Her bluff hadn't worked.
    'You're right,' she said slowly. 'He was killed in a car accident about a year ago. He won't... he's never coming home again.'
    The first fierce hurt and anguish had diminished. It had been over a year now since she had been told the news, been stunned by it. The last year had been hard, but Jenny was over the worst, now. Settled with life, going on.
    'So now you know. There won’t be anyone else coming.' She twisted her wedding ring nervously, round and round. What now? Now that he knew she was alone?
    'I'll be gone in the morning,' he said softly. 'You'll be safe. I'm not going to hurt you.'
    For some reason, she believed him. She felt a whoosh of relief. Maybe, just maybe she would be all right. If she could believe him.
    She looked up at the stranger, and a small smile tugged at her mouth.
    'You don't look like a villain in that get-up,' she said. The scanty terry-cloth robe scarcely covering his body, his long, powerful legs beneath the short cover gave him a comical look. She felt less afraid.
    He smiled back. 'Didn't you know? I'm not the villain, I'm the good guy!'

CHAPTER TWO

    Jenny watched as he turned and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
    Good guy, indeed, she thought scornfully. Just who did he