But instead of the frightening demons of her dreams, she only had to face Justin. Not so difficult a task.
“I’m interested,” he said, reaching his hand up to cup her face. His lean fingers held her gently. She felt the rough calluses against her skin.
“In what?” she asked.
“Temptation.”
His face drew closer. The flames in his eyes grew brighter. She vaguely thought it couldn’t just be the reflection of the fire behind her, it had to be something else, something...
When his lips touched hers, all conscious thought fled. Her eyelids must have closed for she could see nothing, hear nothing. There was only the moment and the flood of memories filling her with the bittersweet taste of the past.
His mouth was firm, yet yielding. The powerful passion she recalled was now carefully controlled. He brushed across her mouth, back and forth as if familiarizing himself with her. She raised herself on tiptoe to mold her shape to his. The correct and proper side of herself screamed it was foolish and wrong to be doing this. She didn’t care.
Justin wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her closer. From chest to knees they touched. Through the layers of her skirt and petticoats, she couldn’t feel much but the general shape of him, but he was all she remembered him to be. The rightness of it brought a burning to her eyes.
She wanted to hold him, as well, but couldn’t bring herself to acquiesce that much. She held her arms at her sides, her hands curled into tight fists.
His fingers slipped under her chignon and kneaded the back of her neck. He moved down her spine, touching, pulling her even closer. His mouth angled against hers, his lips pressing harder now, taunting her with passion.
It wasn’t supposed to feel so good. Other men had kissed her. Not many, but one or two. Why did he have to be the one who made her feel this way? She swallowed her cry of protest against this cruel trick of fate.
His hands encircled her waist. Her breathing came faster now. He dipped his head lower, moving his mouth to her jaw, then down her neck to the collar of her dress. She arched against him, ignoring the way her movement caused her corset to dig into her. The pain didn’t matter, and neither did the fact she couldn’t draw in a deep enough breath. When he returned his lips to hers and his tongue swept across her sensitized skin, she released her last hold on sanity. Her mouth parted and her arms came up toward him.
As he dipped inside, she prepared herself for the onslaught of madness. He would make her forget herself, forget everything, and she didn’t care at all.
Her hands splayed across his chest, feeling the strength of him concealed only by his white shirt and long underwear. He was hard to her soft, angles and planes where she was curves and swells. She reached under his coat to hug him tighter, all the while savoring his kiss. She moved her hands over his ribs and bumped something in his pocket.
The lump moved, then meowed softly and stretched. Justin broke their kiss.
“What’s that?” she asked as soon as she could get her mouth working again.
He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a tiny calico kitten. “Her mother was a good mouser. I thought you might like her.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry about what happened in my office today. That’s what I came by to tell you. We’ve had our problems in the past, but that doesn’t change my responsibilities to you or the town. I was rude to you and I apologize. I brought her for you.”
He held out the kitten. She took her and cupped the small creature in her hands. Bright green eyes blinked sleepily. The kitten nuzzled Megan’s chest and exhaled a deep breath. The kitten’s purring became muffled as she buried her face under the tip of her tail.
“She’s so sweet.” Megan glanced up at him. The dampness of his mouth and his knowing look reminded her what had just happened between them. They were still standing close together. Too close. She stepped back. It didn’t help much. She had a bad feeling she could walk clear to the other side of Kansas and it wouldn’t be far enough. Justin’s apology made her want to forgive him everything. His hot kisses and thoughtful gift made her feel more than was safe. She should ask him to leave right now. Before any more damage was done.
“Would you like to stay for supper?” she blurted out.
He shook his head and started buttoning up his coat. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. You’re right. We aren’t supposed to be friends. It would be better for everyone if we tried to stay out of each other’s way. I know Landing isn’t that big, but if we work at it, I think we can avoid too much contact.”
She wanted to ask why he’d had a sudden shift in attitude. She bit her lower lip. Was it the kiss? Had he been disappointed? Had she shocked him by responding? Did he think she wasn’t a lady?
She walked with him to the front door. She held the kitten close, savoring the animal’s warmth and the faint rumble of her purr.
“Thank you for her,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” Dark eyes met and held hers. She couldn’t read his expression. Justin was such an odd combination of known and unknown. A stranger, and yet—she squeezed her still-tingling lips together—someone she would never forget.
“I apologize for what I said about your mother.”
He shrugged. “Goodbye, Megan.” He reached for the hat he’d left on the hall tree when he’d first come inside, then stepped onto the porch.
Instinctively, she swept her gaze across the bare garden. In the last lingering illumination of twilight, she didn’t see anyone standing around. Thank goodness. Heaven only knew what would happen if her sister or someone from town saw him leaving her house.
“You aren’t going to say anything to anyone, are you?” she asked.
He looked at her over his shoulder. Confusion pulled his dark eyebrows together, then his expression cleared and she could read his contempt. “No. I won’t say a word. Your precious reputation is safe with me.”
He stalked away. Megan stared after him. She thought about trying to explain, but he would never understand. He didn’t know the danger of being ostracized. He didn’t know what fate she would suffer. So many times she’d started to tell him the ugly secret from her past, but she hadn’t. She’d been too ashamed.
So instead of calling him back, she closed the door and locked it, then headed for the kitchen.
“I have some cream,” she murmured. “Would you like that?”
The kitten stirred in her arms. The small warmth wasn’t enough to banish the ghosts from the past and the chill from her heart, but it was so much better than facing them all alone.
* * *
Justin pulled up his collar against the cold night air. As he made his way back to town, he cursed himself for still being a fool. Damn Megan and damn himself for caring. Her precious reputation had always been more important than anything else. Why was he surprised that hadn’t changed?
He shook his head in disgust. He hoped her reputation kept her company in bed at night, otherwise she was going to have a long and lonely life. Not that he cared. He was only sorry that he’d wasted his time with her. Going to see her had been a mistake. Kissing her a bigger one.
Suddenly, he laughed out loud. His breath created a small cloud. He slapped his arms over his chest and walked faster. Kissing her hadn’t been a mistake, it had been mighty pleasurable. He’d wondered if anything had changed between them. Now he knew it hadn’t. The passion, the fire, had still flared, and she’d tasted as sweet as he remembered.
Just thinking about her yielding body pressing against his was enough to make his groin harden. Unfortunately, even the cold didn’t ease the swelling. He hoped thoughts of their kisses were bothering her as much as they bothered him. He grinned. It had been worth it, that’s for sure.
Justin walked around the back of the Bartlett General Store, then across the muddy street toward the sheriff’s office. He had to lock up for the night before he could head back to his hotel room. As he passed the saloon, he heard the familiar sound of music and yells of excitement.
No doubt there were a couple of poker games going on inside. He should probably make an appearance, but his duties didn’t officially start until the morning.
He paused across the street from the building and stared at it. This saloon was newer and larger than the smaller Golden Landing down the street. He made himself walk toward that one, wondering what it would cost him to go inside.
The old building hadn’t changed. The worn sign still needed painting. Three panes of glass had been covered over by boards, so little light filtered onto the boardwalk. Upstairs the windows were dark. The women hadn’t started their “hostess” duties yet. It was early and most of the customers hadn’t found their way to the saloon yet. Tinny piano music covered the sound of conversations and clinking glasses. Justin knew that in an hour or two the raucous noises would drown out the sound of the piano, and by ten o’clock, the man playing the instrument would give up. He knew the sights and sounds and smells of that saloon. The Golden Landing had been the first wooden building constructed in town. His mother had worked there for as long as he could remember.
Without trying to he could recall the sound of her weary footsteps on the stairs as she’d climbed up to their room. Year after year she’d worked washing glasses, serving customers, cleaning up after everyone had gone home. Time and time again she’d been offered money to warm a man’s bed. With a growing boy to provide for, she must have been tempted to take the easy way out. But she hadn’t. She’d kept their tiny room spotless, him in food and shoes. Every year he’d watched her grow weaker. He’d quit school to work, but the extra money hadn’t helped improve her cough, or changed the gray tinge to her skin.
He swallowed hard, fighting the memories. His mother had been a decent hardworking woman. But no one in Landing had cared. She’d worked in a saloon and hadn’t married his father. That was all anyone had needed to know.
He turned away from the building and the past. As he had several times already that day, he wondered if he’d made a mistake by coming back. The idea of returning to Landing and making his peace with the town had sounded so easy. Now he wanted to forget he’d ever heard of the place. And Megan Bartlett.
Without trying, he could feel her body pressed against his and taste the sweetness of her mouth. Damn. He’d never been able to resist her. He wouldn’t have come back if he’d known she was here. Why hadn’t she married and moved away? Now he was going to have to deal with the fact that he’d once offered his heart to her, exposed his most secret self and she’d thrown all of it back in his face. She’d reminded him he was just that bastard Justin Kincaid and that he’d been a fool to think she might have cared about him.
The anger might be old, but it still lived inside of him. He wished it would burn hot enough to allow him to make her pay for what she’d said and done, but that wasn’t possible. He could never hurt Megan. Which is why he had to stay out of her way.
As he crossed the dark, empty street, he noticed light shining out of the sheriff’s office. He hadn’t lit any lanterns before he’d left, so he must have visitors.
As he approached the building, he saw two men standing in front of his desk. One of them turned toward the window. The muscles in Justin’s stomach clenched tight. He recognized the light brown hair and mustache. It had taken Wyatt the better part of five months for it to grow in that thick. He’d been so proud of his mustache that Justin wasn’t surprised to see he still wore it, after all these years. He didn’t know the younger man standing next to Wyatt, but he knew who they were. The gleaming silver badges on their chests told him. His deputies.
He walked softly toward the door, then paused before entering. Wyatt had been one of the boys who had taken pleasure in beating Justin up. When Justin had grown big enough to hurt back, Wyatt had given up his game. Justin wondered if his old enemy knew who the new sheriff was.
He opened the door and stepped inside. The two men turned toward him. The stranger gave him a half smile, but Wyatt stared as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Evening, gentlemen,” Justin said. He walked closer to the men. “I’m Justin Kincaid, the new sheriff of Landing.”
The smaller, dark-haired man held out his hand. “Daniel Thomas, Sheriff. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” They shook hands. Justin studied the younger man, taking in the firm set of his jaw and the straightforward appraisal of his eyes.
“Thomas,” he said. “How long have you been in town?”
“About three weeks, sir. I worked as a deputy up North for a while. I’m sure excited about this job.”
“Good.” Justin turned his attention to the other man. “Evening, Wyatt.”
“Justin.” Wyatt’s blue eyes met his. Justin read the confusion there, the shock and anger. Then all the emotions were banished, and the other man smiled. “Welcome home.”
Justin walked over to his desk and picked up a piece of paper. “I’ve got a contract that says I’ll be here for a year. I won’t accept less than complete loyalty and obedience. You can either work with me, or move on. Which is it to be?”
Wyatt shifted his weight and brought his right hand up to rest on his waist, right above the butt of his pistol. Justin didn’t blink. He wasn’t armed, but that wasn’t something he cared about right now. Wyatt wasn’t going to draw, the man was just testing him. He didn’t mind the testing, what he cared about was Wyatt’s decision. He would rather be a man short than work with someone he couldn’t trust.
Thomas glanced from him to Wyatt, obviously confused. Wyatt stared at Justin. “I heard the name but didn’t believe it. If someone had told me we were going to meet in a sheriff’s office, I would have guessed you’d be on the other side of the bars.”
Justin smiled. Wyatt was right. After all the trouble he’d caused in town and the reason he’d been run off, it made sense to assume that. “I almost was,” he said. “But I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’ve been a deputy over five years. I’ve studied law, even been offered a turn at being a judge. My qualifications were enough for this town. I don’t give a damn about whether or not they’re good enough for you. I just want to know where you stand. I won’t watch my back. Either you’re with me, or you find yourself another job.”
Wyatt relaxed and dropped his hand to his side. “Take a good look at this man, Thomas. He broke my nose when we were both twelve. Did it again when I was fifteen. All right, Justin. I’ve learned my lesson, too. I’ll work with you.”
Justin’s gaze narrowed. That was too easy. He didn’t trust Wyatt.
Wyatt shrugged. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not only your besting me in a fight. We all know you didn’t beat up that woman. If you’d stuck around long enough, you would have found out for yourself that you were cleared of the accusation.”
Justin settled on a corner of his desk. “No one else was willing to wait around to find out I was innocent,” he said. “They were all anxious to attend a hanging. Leaving seemed best.”
Wyatt nodded. He walked two steps closer, then held out his hand. “My sister admitted to me that she was sweet on you. Told me she’d cornered you after a barn dance. Said she kissed you, and, ah, made it clear she wouldn’t say no. She told me you sent her back to her mama and warned her if she was foolish enough to make that offer to another man, she would find herself in more trouble than she could handle. I’m obliged to you for that.”
Justin took the man’s hand and they shook slowly, measuring each other. He still didn’t trust Wyatt, but he was willing to give him a chance.
Thomas still stared at the two of them, bewildered. “Sir, I don’t understand.”
“You will.” Justin slapped him on the shoulder. “I used to live here. I was a hell-raiser and troublemaker. My mother worked in a saloon, but she wasn’t a whore. I never knew my father and my parents didn’t marry. That makes me a bastard. Some would be happy to tell you that’s not the only thing, either. I work hard and I expect the same from my men. I hold on to my temper.” Except around Megan, he thought suddenly and had to fight back a gr
in. “I don’t allow drinking on duty, or gambling ever. Aside from that, what you do with your own time is your business. Any questions?”
Wyatt shook his head. Thomas gaped at him, apparently overwhelmed by the information and instructions.
“Thomas? You have a problem with any of that?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.” Justin took his seat, then lowered the box containing his belongings to the floor. “Anything been going on in town that I should know about, Wyatt?”
Wyatt walked over to his desk and picked up a couple of papers. “I was writing up a report for you. Everything has been quiet around here.” He handed Justin the sheets. “Except for the murder last month.”
“Murder?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Some saloon girl was found beaten to death on the edge of town.”
Justin stared at the other man. The coldness in his stomach quickly spread to the rest of his body. He was careful to keep his face expressionless as he studied the details of the case. There weren’t many. According to the report, Roberts, the previous sheriff, had investigated for a couple of days and had concluded that one of the many drifters who had been in town at that time had been responsible for the crime.
The hairs on the back of Justin’s neck stood up. Something wasn’t right. “What kind of sheriff was Roberts?” he asked without looking up.
“Decent. He kept the town clean.”
Not clean enough, Justin thought, fighting the ghosts that threatened to suffocate him. For a second, he entertained the notion that Roberts had ended the investigation because he’d been bought off. No way to prove that. But he didn’t like any of it—not the murder, the brief nature of the investigation or the fact that the victim was a saloon girl.
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