"Come in!" she called, and he needed no further invitation.
He wasn't sure who was more shocked. Sapphire was standing with one foot resting up on her bed, fastening her stocking. She was wearing nothing but a corset, her drawers, and a black, beaded choker around her pale throat.
"Oh," she said faintly.
"I'm sorry," he said, suddenly embarrassed, immediately directing his gaze to the wall, which was painted a deep shade of blue. "I was told to come right on up."
"I see. Well, I wasn't expecting any… company just yet. I don't officially start for another half hour. So I thought you were one of the girls, come to borrow a ribbon or something."
Still staring fixedly at the wall, he forced himself to take a deep breath. "Would you like me to step out and come back a little later?"
"No, no, it's fine. After all, you saw a lot more of me than this yesterday, right?" She let out a giggle, and he wondered whether she really was as bold as she was making out—or whether she was just a great little actress.
"Actually, that's why I'm here," he said. "You left your dagger behind."
"Thank you!" Still clad in nothing but one stocking and her underclothes, she came to stand beside him and held out her hand. "I really appreciate it, sir," she went on as he laid the weapon carefully in her small, outstretched palm.
"You ever have occasion to use it?" he heard himself asking. A part of him deep inside didn't really want to hear the answer.
Sapphire gave him a bright smile. "Not yet, but I do feel safer just having it."
"I… I can understand that." He paused, unsure what else to say but strangely unwilling to leave. "Your room is lovely." He waved helplessly in the general direction of the deep blue walls. What might otherwise have been a foreboding, almost masculine color, was offset by the heavy cream curtains, the pale purple and white quilt on the bed, and various obviously feminine accoutrements scattered about the room—including her red petticoat, which lay strewn invitingly over a nearby chair.
Gems who wore pink petticoats, like Jeb's wife Ruby, remained downstairs. Only those who wore red petticoats ascended the first floor, where they entertained their clients. Crawford swallowed hard.
"Thank you. We're allowed to choose how we'd like to decorate our rooms ourselves."
"That's great." Usually so cocksure and confident, he found himself suddenly, inexplicably tongue-tied around this slip of a girl. Get a handle on yourself.
Returning to the bed, Sapphire once more rested her foot on the mattress and began to slide the dagger into her stocking, her eyes never leaving Crawford's face as the weapon moved seductively against her milky skin.
He stood unmoving, watching her intently, his mind and loins ablaze. Was this a trick? Was it a seduction technique she used on any man who entered her room? Or was this merely for his own benefit? Surely she couldn't be attracted to him, he was so careful never to seem friendly or accessible for precisely that reason.
But as he watched her fluid, graceful body bend to pick up the second stocking, Crawford was unable to prevent the familiar surge of dark hunger from rising up inside him. His heart began to pound and his cock, already hard, jerked in his pants. A few more moments of watching her, he knew, and he'd lose his carefully cultivated control. He'd pick her up, throw her down, and…
"Anyway, I've done what I came here to do," he said curtly, careful to keep his voice even. "I'm on duty, so I'd better go."
"So soon?" She cocked a fine, dark eyebrow. "You could stay and keep me company while I get ready…"
There was a definite unspoken invitation in her voice.
Get out of here, now.
"Sorry, I need to leave, otherwise the sheriff will have my head. I'm on duty tonight."
An expression of something he couldn't quite decipher flitted across her features. Anger? Disappointment? Embarrassment? Resignation?
"In that case, I apologize for taking up so much of your valuable time," she said curtly, flicking her blue-black curls over her shoulder and stalking to the chair to retrieve her petticoat. "I'm sure you know the way out."
Her biting words were only fueling the dark flame in his belly, and he bit back a suitably unfriendly retort.
Don't give in to it.
"I do," he said brusquely, and though it took every ounce of self-control he possessed, he spun on his heel and departed, resisting the temptation to slam the door behind him.
"Can I interest you in a dance, Deputy?"
Crawford had barely made it down the stairs before he was accosted by yet another girl. She was plump and pretty, with golden hair and pale blue eyes.
"I can show you a real good time," she went on, laying a hand on his arm.
"I'm sure," he muttered. If only you knew… "Sorry, I'm on duty. I was here on business and it's time to go."
The girl pouted. To most other men she would have been irresistible, but Crawford's mind was full of someone else; a willowy, slender, infuriating enigma of a woman with hair so black it glowed almost blue in the light, and eyes as dark as his past.
Forcing himself to smile, he carefully removed her hand. "Don't worry, darlin', I'm a grouch anyhow. I'm sure any one of these gentlemen would be delighted to be in your company on this fine evening." He gestured to the rapidly filling saloon, where the first tinkling sounds of a piano could be heard above the general murmur of conversation.
"Very well." She stood aside to let him pass and he prowled out of The Red Petticoat as fast as he could without so much as a backwards—or sideways—glance.
* * *
"Well hello there, Joe, so good to see my best fella again!" Sapphire planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head, looking up at the greasy miner from beneath her eyelashes. "Have you come to watch me dance again?"
"Sure have!" He removed his hat and gave a little bow.
Sapphire repressed a shudder at the sight of his dirt-encrusted skin. "You know," she said as coyly as she could, "we do have some real luxurious bathtubs here. You could have a nice relaxing soak… I'll even scrub your back for you… and then we could go upstairs to dance."
She held her breath as he seemed to consider it, then sighed inwardly as he shook his head.
"Nah, no need, Miss Sapphire," he said. "See, I been waiting days to see you again, and I'm all outta patience."
Probably been days since any kind of water touched your body, too, she scolded him silently as she accepted his proffered arm and allowed him to walk her up the stairs. Joe Harris was a grizzled, filthy man, to be sure, but he was also polite, kept his hands mostly to himself, and paid more than quadruple her usual fee—plus generous tips—making him her best customer.
As it had all evening, ever since Deputy Slade had burst in on her while she'd been getting ready, Sapphire's mind began to wander as she settled Joe in the chair in her bedroom and turned down the lamp.
She had been utterly stunned; not just by Crawford's sudden, unexpected visit, but also by his extremely odd behavior. It had been kind of him to return her dagger—she had not been looking forward to starting her shift without the feeling of protection it gave her—but then he had just stood there, awkwardly, staring at her like some shy youth on his first visit to the Petticoat.
Sapphire had seen that look in a man's eyes many a time; in fact, she was paid handsomely to put precisely that look into any man's eyes, but when it came to the huge, surly deputy, she must have misread it. Her blatant invitation had drawn nothing but a blank, and Crawford Slade's resulting behavior couldn't have been more impolite if he'd spat on the floor.
Instead of crossing the room in two long strides and throwing her down on the bed, as the secret, hot part inside her had longed for him to do, he'd muttered something about being on duty and left.
He'd turned her down.
She wasn't sure what was bothering her the most; her hurt pride, the thought that he obviously didn't return her feelings of desire towards him, or the sheer humiliation she'd experienced at making such a f
ool of herself. It was probably a combination of all three.
Another part of her, however, was relieved that he'd simply left, as she'd turned on the charm without thinking, and wasn't even sure whether she'd have wanted him to go through with whatever it was she had been inviting him to do. For as much as he intrigued and enthralled her, he also terrified her. There was something dark and foreboding simmering just beneath the surface of the man, which was why she always felt uneasy in his presence.
With practiced languor, she began to dance for Joe as soon as he was reclining, relaxed, in the creaking, wooden chair. Sapphire was renowned in Culpepper for her "special dances." It was the best way to satisfy a man without even really touching him, she'd discovered, and in all honesty, she preferred it that way. Joe Harris wasn't alone in his aversion to soap and water and, truth be told, not a great many patrons of The Red Petticoat could be coaxed into taking a bath before they ventured upstairs.
Other gems had discovered other skills; one had been known to treat some clients like naughty schoolboys, spanking their backsides, and another had taken the role of teacher even more seriously, inviting men up to her room purely to teach them how to read, write and do simple sums. Sapphire had been in awe of these ingenious ways of gaining repeat business without having to spread her legs, and had quickly devised a method of her own.
Careful not to glance too far down to where she knew Joe was rubbing himself, she turned and began to loosen her corset.
"So pretty," Joe breathed. "Your skin is like buttermilk."
"I prepared a special surprise just for you," she replied sweetly, tugging her corset down over her breasts and making sure the rouge on her nipples was still neat before swinging around to display them proudly.
"Oh wow." The miner groaned, his hand moving ever more rapidly in the crotch of his pants. "They look like ripe cherries. Bet they taste so sweet."
"They sure do…" Bending, she lifted the hem of her petticoat, still swaying her hips gently, and slid the material up to expose her stockings… slowly, slowly, one inch at a time.
"Higher," he begged.
Sapphire obliged. "Now let me show you something even sweeter," she said with a wink. As she turned and bent over, her thighs spread wide, parting the split seam in her drawers to display her most secret place, she heard Joe's shout of release.
Usually, the sound made her smile; it was a sign of a job well done, of money earned and, even though many would find the act obscene, she could think of worse things. It was an honest living, and if she kept at it for a few more years, she'd be able to retire to somewhere pretty before she grew too old to enjoy life.
But this time, as she handed the man a handkerchief she kept a stack of for precisely that purpose, she found herself wishing that it were someone different sitting in that chair, someone else watching her dance and finding her so desirable that he lost control.
The one man she couldn't have.
Deputy Sheriff Crawford Slade.
Chapter Four
"Have you heard anything new about that group of road agents since yesterday? Knowing a group of bandits like that are on the loose around the Sierras, holding up wagons, is making folks around here mighty nervous." Jebediah took a sip of cold coffee and grimaced.
"Nope. Didn't hear anything," Crawford replied.
"Hmm. You seem distracted. You're always quiet, but this time I get the impression your mind is on other things." Jeb eyed his deputy suspiciously. "Is it anything to do with The Red Petticoat?"
Crawford scoffed, deliberately getting up and walking to the window to avoid having to make further eye contact with the man. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," he said curtly.
"Come on. I know you've been avoiding that place like the plague ever since you arrived in Culpepper… then that thing with Sapphire happened, you had to attend the incident, and now you're even more sullen and introspective than usual. What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing."
It was a grey, overcast day; thick, heavy clouds hung low in the sky, making the very air seem oppressive. Crawford watched the townspeople go about their business in the wide dirt main street; women holding the hems of their skirts up to avoid the mud, tethered horses stamping and snorting as they waited for their riders to return.
Jeb sighed. "You're my deputy. What we do is a dangerous thing, and you need to be focused. I can't have you moping around, and if you're distracted, I need to know why so we can address it."
"Nothing to address."
"Goddamnit!" the sheriff exploded. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were lovesick!"
Crawford gave a genuine snort of amusement. Turning, he directed his gaze at his employer. "You're the only person in this town who knows about my history," he said slowly. "Which is why, coming from anyone else, that assumption would have been a fair one to make. You, on the other hand, know exactly why I will never—and can never—be lovesick."
Jeb raised a speculative eyebrow. "You don't know very much about love, do you?" he said slowly. "You don't choose it. It chooses you. That's the beauty and the curse of it. It's like a bolt of lightning when it happens, and it don't care about your past—or anything else, for that matter. One day, you meet a girl, and wham! You've been hit."
"Maybe that's true for some men," Crawford argued. "For men like you, or the doc, or even the mayor. But not for me. That whole meeting a girl and settling down, starting a family kind of thing isn't for me."
"Bullshit!"
It was rare to hear the sheriff curse, but Crawford concealed his surprise.
"Like I said just now, love ain't choosy. Cupid's arrow will hit you any time, any place, and when it does, believe me, you'll know it. You think it was all easy when I met Red? You think I wasn't conflicted as all get out?"
"Because she worked at the saloon?"
"Heck no! Besides, she only ever wore a pink petticoat. That girl never went upstairs; I made sure of that. No, because I'd known Rebekah for most of her life, when she was growing up. I cared for her, sure, like you do for kids you're around often, but I never looked at her as anything but a little red-headed girl until suddenly, one day, I looked at her again and she was all woman. The arrow hit. Before I knew it, we were not only wed, we are now expecting our first child. Want some more coffee?"
"Sure."
"Well, make some then." The sheriff gave a broad grin. "That stove oven has a purpose, and it ain't to discipline wayward gems."
Crawford shot Jeb a wry smile as he went to fetch the roasted beans. "I still wish I'd never told you about that."
"Shoot, if you hadn't, someone else would have. There's nothing goes on in this town that I don't know about."
"Or so you think." Pouring a good measure of the beans into the coffee pot, Crawford added plenty of water and set it on the stove. "You can't know what you don't know… because you don't know it."
Jeb gave a bark of laughter. "That's as may be, smartass, but I do know this: a gem has turned your head. And for what it's worth, I think you should man up, accept it, and set about wooing her."
Returning to the window, Crawford shook his head. "I prefer to be alone."
"No you don't. You think you deserve to be alone. You believe you don't deserve happiness."
"C'mon, Sheriff, you work with me every day. You know as well as I do that I don't have it in me to make anyone happy, least of all some delicate little woman."
"It's her, isn't it? Sapphire? She's the one who captured your attention…"
The sheriff was still speaking but the subject of their discussion had just come into view on Main Street. Crawford caught his breath. Her long, midnight curls were pinned up neatly and she was wearing a demure, pale green dress, but it was definitely her. Clutching a little reticule, she was picking her way delicately across the road. Even buttoned up to the neck, she fueled a fire inside him that he was finding it increasingly hard to ignore. He wondered where she was going.
"…even listening to me n
ow, are you? I think old Sol has sobered up, I can hear him coughing. I'll go let him out and then come back here. Coffee should be ready by then." Without waiting for a response, the sheriff disappeared through the door leading to the jail cells.
Crawford was still completely focused on the slender woman outside. As she passed close by their building, she glanced in his direction, and he took a quick step back to avoid being seen. He couldn't have said why he'd done so; it had been purely instinctual. Then he felt bad, almost as if he were spying on her.
A sudden movement caught his eye; a flash of scarlet and a mass of curly, greying hair. An older fellow emerged from behind a cart and, looking about him with a furtive air, he walked slowly in the same direction Sapphire had taken, apparently being careful to avoid being seen.
The bastard was following her.
Swallowing hard, Crawford watched the man duck behind a nearby barrel as something small and yellow—a piece of ribbon, perhaps—slipped out of Sapphire's bag. She hadn't noticed and kept walking.
A few short moments later, the man resumed following her, stooping to pick the object up. Holding it to his nose, he inhaled deeply before stuffing it into his pocket.
Who was he? And why wasn't he hurrying to catch up with her, to return her ribbon? Instead, adjusting the bright red tie around his neck, the man maintained a careful distance as he strolled on behind the oblivious girl.
Crawford clenched his fist, his sense of unease growing by the minute. He should go out there right away, and warn Sapphire. Or, no, he should take Red Tie to task for not returning the ribbon or whatever it was she had dropped. The way the guy was following her was downright creepy. Almost as if he meant to do her harm.
"You'd think Sol would have learned his lesson by now, but once he gets a taste of that whiskey, it's like he can't stop drinking it until he passes out." Jebediah's voice startled Crawford, who jumped and turned guiltily away from the window. "And unfortunately, he likes to raise a good deal of hell before he reaches that stage. Still, I think that's the last we'll see of him—for a day or two, at least." The sheriff peered at his deputy. "You still staring out that window?"
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