by Carol Finch
And off she went, leaving Gil with the self-important military officer who could have been Elliot’s brother, for all his airs and posturing. The encounter made her appreciate men like Coop and Gil even more. There was never any pretense with Coop. Well, except for the fact that Coop had taken a new name and made a new life for himself after vindicating his family and other hapless murder victims.
But that didn’t count, she thought dismissively. Even if Coop was an avenging angel with one wing in the fire, at least he treated her like an individual who had a brain in her head, not like a trophy to present to the world. Lieutenant Gunther was a reminder of what she had to look forward to when she returned home to Santa Fe.
The thought nearly soured her reasonably good mood.
Harold Quinn stepped onto the street in Santa Fe then discreetly checked his clothing to make sure he was buttoned properly. Since Ambrose and Ben had invited him to the Pleasure Palace previously this week, he had visited the establishment again. He had definitely taken advantage of Alexa’s absence.
The thought of his absent daughter put a fretful frown on his face. He strode off to the buggy he’d parked a good distance from the bordello. He’d hoped to hear from Alexa by now. The scheduled meeting was four days away and he needed justifiable reason for canceling the contract with Webster.
“Hello there, Harold, I wasn’t expecting to see you out and about tonight.”
Harold glanced up when he recognized Ambrose Shelton’s voice. Although he felt a mite self-conscious about being seen by one of his constituents, when exiting the brothel, Harold nodded a greeting.
Ambrose climbed down from the carriage then glanced speculatively toward the establishment down the street. He cracked the semblance of a smile. “I assume you just left the place where I’m going.”
Harold shifted awkwardly. “Er…yes. With Lexi away from home I have spare time on my hands and I’ve grown…um…lonesome.”
“Ah, yes, speaking of your daughter.” Ambrose dug into his coat pocket. “Here it is.”
Harold frowned warily when Ambrose produced a telegram.
“I was at the telegraph office sending a missive before supper and this one arrived for you,” he explained. “I told the agent I’d deliver it to you. I was planning to drop it off after I paid a visit to my friend down the street.”
Unease settled over Harold as he accepted the missive that Ambrose just so happened to intercept when he just so happened to be in the telegraph office. Now Ambrose was on his way to the Pleasure Palace. It was almost as if his associate had been monitoring his activities and knew where he’d be. He wondered if the man had also read the telegram before passing it on.
“Thank you, Ambrose.”
“Think nothing of it.”
Harold thought a lot of it. Surely this wasn’t a coincidence. There was an unidentified informant among his trusted colleagues and now Ambrose was the most likely candidate.
Harold waited until Ambrose waddled off before he climbed into his buggy. He watched his associate veer into the upscale bordello where lights beamed like beacons in the night. He wondered if Ambrose, a sworn bachelor, was a regular customer who preferred one female in particular or if he made the rounds to visit all the ladies of the evening.
Discarding the curious thought, Harold grabbed the reins and trotted the buggy home so he could read the telegram in private. A quarter of an hour later, while ensconced in his favorite chair in the parlor, he opened the missive that read:
Having a grand time. A productive one, too. You must give high praise to both the Hamptons and Barretts. Webster proposed but he won’t have much time for courting by week’s end. Miss you, Lexi.
Harold sank back in his chair to read between the lines. Obviously, Alexa had gathered evidence that suggested Webster had indeed conspired with someone to gather privileged information. Furthermore, she recommended that he grant the contract to both neighboring ranchers. Although Harold had hoped to offer concrete evidence at the meeting, Alexa implied that the hired detective had enough evidence to charge Webster of wrongdoing.
He expelled a sigh of relief then sipped his drink. Alexa was all right so he could stop fretting about her. She would return early next week and his household would be back to normal. Of course, he would have to find Lexi another challenge to occupy her time. She’d suffered growing pains and he’d been too busy to notice that his spirited daughter needed more excitement in her life than he’d previously supplied.
“I’ll figure all that out later,” he said before he swallowed his nightcap. He’d eased his needs and he’d heard encouraging news from his daughter. Now he could rest easy.
Content for the first time in days, Harold strode off to bed.
The next evening Coop returned from the livery, wondering what had become of Norville Thomas’s horse. The man and his sorrel mare had vanished without a trace, much to Coop’s chagrin.
Halting on the boardwalk, Coop held his timepiece up to the streetlight to see it clearly. It was half past eleven. While scouting the area earlier, he’d seen Miguel and Kate on horseback, checking for small campfires that indicated illegal cattle branding. The fact that Miguel had left Alexa to her own devices worried him. She had a history of striking off on her own without Miguel to discourage her from her daring misadventures.
Coop entered the hotel and nodded a silent greeting to the clerk. His first stop was Alexa’s room, which was on the opposite end of the hall. He didn’t expect her to answer his knock because he figured she was in disguise, tracking her fiancé. Coop didn’t know why that rankled so much but it did. She assured him that she had no interest in Webster. And certainly, he and Alexa had no future. Not with his checkered background and her elevated social status. But still…
His troubled thoughts trailed off when she opened the door and he saw her dressed in her frilly cream-colored robe and nightgown. Desire hit him like a freight train. He had to brace a hand on the doorjamb to steady himself against the onslaught of fierce attraction.
“Did you find Norville and his sorrel?” she asked.
“No, they’re gone with the wind,” he said, distracted.
“Is there another problem for us to resolve tonight?” she questioned as she grasped his arm and towed him inside her room.
“Absolutely.”
“What is it?” she asked anxiously.
“It’s you, princess.”
Coop did what came naturally when he was within kissing distance of this alluring female. He swept her off her feet and claimed her lips—until he was forced to come up for air.
“You’ve become a problem yourself,” she rasped as she locked her fingers around his neck and leaned familiarly against him. “How am I to keep my mind on this investigation when I can’t see past you?”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one,” he murmured as he caressed her hip and trim waist. “I’m not used to this kind of distraction.”
“Neither am I.”
Coop was needy as hell, and she looked so tempting and inviting that he couldn’t think past his compulsive desire for her. “You are fast becoming an obsession to me, princess,” he confided between kisses.
“I thought I asked you not to call me that,” she said as she tugged impatiently at the buttons on his shirt.
“It serves to remind me that we hail from entirely different backgrounds. But right now, I can’t remember anything except how much I want you. Hell, I can’t even remember when I didn’t want you….”
Chapter Thirteen
Suddenly Coop was kissing her again, and without one ounce of reserve. He tried to make himself slow down and be gentle. It was a wasted thought because Alexa seemed to be as hungry for him as he was for her. With a groan of defeat, he accepted his maddening obsession for her and reminded himself that even Napoleon had his Waterloo.
This woman was Coop’s downfall. It was as simple and as disturbing as that.
He glided his hand over her thigh, tunneling beneath her robe and
nightgown so he could touch her intimately. He found her warm and responsive and that knowledge turned him hard and aching in the batting of an eye. When she reached down to free him from the placket of his breeches, he struggled to draw breath. Desire was eating him alive.
“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you,” she admitted raggedly.
“Same goes for me,” he replied hoarsely as he backed her against the wall and guided her legs around his hips. “Damn, Alexa, you deserve better than this, but I’ve been having this fantasy—”
When she arched upward, her hand closed around his throbbing shaft. Coop lost the ability to speak. He felt the warmth of her body encompass him as he surged helplessly toward her. He looked into her enchanting face and felt that uncontrollable wave of fiery emotion flood through him—as it always did when he was one with her. He moved instinctively against her, setting an erotic cadence. He watched her vivid blue eyes glitter as desire overtook her at the same instant that it seized him. He clamped his hands on her hips, loving the feel of her satiny skin beneath his hands, savoring the intimacy of being buried deep inside her as they moved in perfect rhythm.
His pleasure intensified when she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him thoroughly, ravenously. He heard her breath catch as he plunged deeply inside her, burying himself to the hilt. Then he withdrew to plunge again and again.
He swore he was no more than a shell of flesh that housed seething need. For the first time in his life, he understood what it meant to be on fire for a woman, understood mindless desperation. He savored the feel of the passionate tremors that rippled through Alexa then vibrated through him. The incredible sensations left not one part of his body, mind and soul untouched and unaffected.
“Sweet mercy…” Coop gasped when indescribable rapture pulsated through him repeatedly and with devastating force.
He braced one forearm on the wall for support before his knees buckled and left them both in an entangled heap on the floor. He held Alexa tightly in one arm while shudder after uncontrollable shudder bombarded him. When she laid her cheek against his laboring chest and murmured his name, contentment stole over him. Coop sighed, closed his eyes and cherished the incredible moment.
When Alexa lifted her blond head a few moments later then unhooked her legs from around his hips, the thought of how he had taken her in such a heated rush shamed him. Fantasy or not, he should have given more than he’d taken.
“I’m sorry. That was—”
He tried to apologize but she laid her forefinger to his lips to silence him. “It was good…for starters.” An impish smile tripped across her kiss-swollen lips. “Spend the night with me, Coop. I want to know what it’s like to have you in my bed, to lie in your arms until dawn.”
Coop peeled off his gaping vest and shirt and tossed them aside. Then he thought of Miguel’s overprotective feelings for Alexa and decided to barricade the door for absolute privacy.
“Did you follow Webster tonight?” he asked as he heel-and-toed out of his boots.
“Yes, but he remained at home so I couldn’t search his office,” she said, disappointed.
“Don’t try that alone,” he advised. “I shudder to think what might happen if Webster or Denton catches you red-handed and retaliates.”
“There are answers in those ledgers,” Alexa replied as she stretched out on the bed. “I’m itching to get my hands on them.”
He smiled roguishly as he doffed his breeches. “You’ll have to settle for getting your hands on me tonight, princess.”
The playful purr that tumbled from her lips before she snuffed the lantern indicated that she wasn’t all that disappointed with the change in her evening plans.
“I could get used to this,” she murmured as she cuddled beside him.
“So could I.” Which would make leaving her behind when he took a new assignment even more difficult, he thought to himself. “I’ve never spent the entire night with a woman,” he confided before he dropped a kiss to her dewy-soft mouth.
“Truly?” she asked.
“You’re the first.” And probably the last, considering his tumbleweed lifestyle. Not to mention that she meant entirely too much to him. All other women would become substitutes for the one he really wanted.
“I’ll cherish the exclusive privilege forever.”
Her hand brushed over his chest and then descended across his belly. Coop was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get much sleep during the night.
Sure enough, his prediction proved correct. But he didn’t voice a single word of complaint.
Alexa spent the next day with a smile on her lips. Her unexpected late-night tryst with Coop kept popping to mind at irregular intervals. She wondered what it would be like to wake up beside him for the rest of her life.
The voice of reason kept shouting that wasn’t going to happen. Coop didn’t want or need a permanent arrangement to complicate his life. Neither did she. Her parents’ inability to get along for an extended period of time had cured her romantic tendencies years earlier.
“Pay attention to business,” she muttered at herself as she watched Elliot hike down the street to the bordello, after he had dropped her from their late supper.
Alexa wheeled around to hurry upstairs so she could change into her dark breeches and shirt. She was definitely going to take advantage of Elliot’s liaison this evening. Despite Coop’s warnings, Alexa intended to take a good look at Elliot’s financial ledgers. Her father’s meeting was coming up in two days. She needed tangible proof of Elliot’s unethical dealings so her father could award a contract to other ranchers.
Dressed in black, a cap pulled low on her forehead, Alexa used the servants’ exit to descend to the alley. She had secured a horse that afternoon and the bay gelding was more than ready to stretch its legs after being tethered for a few hours. She gave the gelding its head as she cantered from town.
Anticipation surged through her as she dismounted in the clump of trees near Elliot’s house. She stared at the darkened window of the office then noticed Oscar Denton who was leaning negligently against the porch railing. A few cowboys milled around the bunkhouse that sat near the barn. Laughter and guffaws wafted in the evening breeze.
While the hired hands entertained themselves for the evening, Alexa scurried toward the garden gate. Scaling the outer wall to crawl in the window took more effort than it had when Coop had been there to give her a boost. Yet, within a few minutes, Alexa was inside the office, tiptoeing to the desk.
If she thought she could get away with swiping the ledger without Elliot noticing for a few days, she’d do it in a heartbeat. But then, he might accuse Percy Hampton or Andrew Barrett of theft and a range war might erupt. That was the last thing she wanted.
Crouching, Alexa eased open the drawer to retrieve the ledger. Despite the scant moonlight filtering through the window, she opened the book to study Elliot’s expenditures, credits and notations he’d added in the margins. She was going to be sorely disappointed if she didn’t return to town with conclusive evidence to present to her father.
This has to be the vital clue to convict Elliot of wrongdoing, she assured herself as she held the ledger up to the faint light.
Coop paused on the boardwalk to lean on the rough-hewn beam outside the saloon. His gaze drifted instinctively to Alexa’s hotel window. Dim lantern light flickered in the darkness. He wondered what she was doing and he wished he could be there with her. Yet, he had taken a risk by staying the previous night. He couldn’t make a habit of it without inviting notice and provoking Miguel’s outrage.
“Would you be interested in joining me for a drink?” Gil Henson asked as he ambled up beside him. “You’re buying, of course. Since I’m still on duty for another half hour you can fetch a bottle.”
“You want the whiskey delivered to your office?” Coop asked as he pushed away from the post.
“Yep. I want to tell you about the visit I had from Miss Quinn recently.”
“Oh?” Coop
tried not to sound too intrigued but Gil had piqued his curiosity.
When Gil strode off to check the locked doors on both sides of the street Coop limped back inside Valmont Saloon to make his purchase. He dodged Polly Sanders for the umpteenth time when she flirted outrageously with him. Then he hobbled down Main Street to the marshal’s office. The deputy showed up five minutes later to take Gil’s place. Together they walked to the south edge of town to Gil’s modest home.
“Nice place,” Coop complimented as he surveyed the house.
“Thanks. It beats the hell out of sleeping on the ground and trying to stay dry during downpours,” Gil replied as he led the way into the parlor. “I had my fill of battling inclement weather during my bounty hunting days.”
“Private investigation is a step up, too,” Coop agreed. “But I don’t have a home like you, only a headquarters.”
Gil motioned for Coop to make himself comfortable while he filled two glasses. “I’m inviting you to a party next weekend, compliments of Elliot Webster. The cunning son of a bitch managed to win over Miss Quinn and she agreed to marry him,” he added with a distasteful scowl.
“Did he?” Coop said as he plunked down in a chair.
Gil nodded his reddish-blond head. “Apparently. But there’s something about that bewitching woman that has me baffled.” Gil downed his drink in one swallow. “I know there’s more to her than the dazzling beauty that meets the eye. Plus, I think something’s going on and I wish the hell I knew what it is.”
Coop played dumb but he could feel tension coursing through him. “Are you talking about the clash between Hampton and Webster?”
“Partially.” Gil poured another drink then stared pensively at the contents of his glass. “I tell ya, Coop, whatever Alexa Quinn is, she is not the flighty socialite she tries to portray in public. I saw her withdraw into herself when Lieutenant Gunther plied her with gushing flattery when I introduced them. She didn’t feed on it. She seemed indifferent, even perturbed by it.”
