Anna’s fingers tangled in Jeb’s shirt, her other arm wrapped around his waist. The water was cold. So very cold. “I’m teasing,” the Pinkerton said, his breath warm against her neck. “Now, much as I’m enjoying this conversation, we’ve both got to get out of this water.” “Mr. Sanders,” she said as she clutched him tighter. “You kissed me.” Her words hung in the air as the water swirled around them. The Pinkerton appeared to be considering a response. “Miss Finch,” he finally said, “I’m afraid you’re getting hypothermia. I kissed you because you asked me to.” “That would explain it,” she said. “Would it?” He shook his head. “I’m glad you’ve got an explanation, because I certainly don’t.” He gathered her closer and studied something on the bank. “Now, why don’t you keep your talking to a minimum and follow my instructions instead?” When she did not respond, the Pinkerton leaned down to brush her lips with his one more time. “Miss Finch, you’ll not catch me doing this again, but if kissing you gets us out of this river, I’ll suffer through it.”
What do You think about Anna Finch And The Hired Gun?
