However, there was profit to be made from customers. From the way the marzipan, ginger cakes, and nutmeg cookies were disappearing off the other tray, Abby was pretty sure the ladies would be purchasing spices, as well.
But what she was most anticipating was the look on Luke’s face when he saw the number of women at this first meeting. Although according to the ads they’d put out, the official opening of the tea room was tomorrow, Abby had wanted to surprise him. Delia had agreed that inviting the widows to a private “pre-opening” might make them more amenable to considering investing in the products, as well.
She just hoped he’d show up before the food ran out and the ladies decided to go home.
And then, as if she had lured him with her thoughts, Luke filled the doorway. He’d removed his topcoat and it dangled from one finger over his shoulder. He must have come prepared to put some last, finishing touches on the room because he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and it was open at his throat. A ray of sunlight caught his eyes, burnishing them deep gold. With dark hair tousled by the wind and the hint of his shadow beard outlining his jaw, he looked wild and untamed. Like a panther.
Conversation halted. Some of the ladies held teacups or cookies half-way to their mouths. Interest shone in their eyes, some more intently than others, and Abby thought she heard several sighs. She frowned. Her mother had told her it wasn’t polite to stare. And these women were practically ogling.
“What have we here?” he asked, stepping into the room.
This time, she definitely heard sighs when he spoke in that deep drawl of his. Or maybe because he’d moved closer. Criminy. A couple of the youngest women were practically drooling. Abby was beginning to understand why John had scowled at the lot.
Well, she wasn’t going to let that kind of silliness spoil her surprise. She lifted her chin and smiled at Luke.
“I wanted to surprise you. These women are here by special invitation because they are all widows and have independent funds at their disposal.” She looked at the ladies. “As I mentioned in the notes I sent around, this is an opportunity for each of you to increase your bank accounts.”
Luke eyed the women and then turned his attention to her. “I’m not sure I’m ready to divulge the particulars.”
“That’s quite all right.” Abby beamed at him, proud that she’d taken the time to really study the invoices for the tea, spices and silks. “I’ve already thought a lot of this out. Your investors are willing to finance the expansion, but it’s the local population…” She gestured to the women. “…who will be using the products and spreading the word to increase sales. As profits increase, we can offer them shares and build an even bigger expansion to the building strictly for inventory that caters to women.” She turned her gaze on the ladies. “You can all become… entr…entrepren…eurs.” Abby stumbled over the big word, but she loved the sound of it. “Just like me.”
Luke cleared his throat. “Yes, but—”
“It would be wonderful working with you,” one of the youngest widows—Abby thought her name was Rose—said, as she smiled coyly at Luke.
“You will help us, won’t you?” the other young widow who someone had called Mary, asked as she gave him a wide-eyed look.
Abby refrained from retorting that she was the one who owned the store. Instead, she forced a tight smile. “Since Mr. Cameron is a cousin of my late husband’s, I’m sure he wants the store to be successful.”
“That, I do,” Luke replied. “I want to be sure that no one who invests in this…store, loses her money.”
His words brought smiles to even the older widows and, it seemed to Abby, that the ladies all sat up a little bit straighter. Both were encouraging signs. “I’m sure we can trust Mr. Cameron to help us.”
“Although a few details still need to be worked out,” Luke said.
“Of course,” Abby answered. “Perhaps by next week’s social, we’ll have some definite plans. How does that sound?”
A chorus of assenting comments followed her question, and Abby gave Luke a big smile. Her surprise had worked out very well.
♦◊♦
Thanks to years of playing poker and staring down the barrels of six-shooters, Luke managed to keep his expression impassive as he observed Abigail moving around, talking to each of the women present.
Was she just being friendly, or was she working the room like a professional shyster? Her opening spiel to these women about being entrepreneurs had been as smooth a line as he’d heard from any number of snake-oil salesmen…or, in this case, swindlers out to take an unsuspecting victim’s money. Widows made easy marks, especially the older ones, and their interest in this venture had not gone unnoticed by him.
He had to wonder again if Abigail had known Travis Sayer before and come West as a business partner.
Not that he hadn’t planned to do almost exactly the same thing, albeit for different purposes. He’d meant what he said about no one losing their money, but there was a fine line between setting up a fraudulent investment to draw out Sayer’s accomplice and actually committing fraud. He’d be able to handle this scheme much better if a certain blonde didn’t tangle herself up in it.
If she were as naïve as she appeared, he had to protect her and keep her out of any kind of involvement. That would take some careful manipulation. He could already hear her protests.
His conscience niggled at him. Abigail’s protests about staying out of the investing process would be nothing compared to her outrage at having the truth come out about her husband’s thefts. She would think him the worse kind of scoundrel for forcing the sale of the store, even if was to return the lost savings to his grandmother and her friends. She was already seeing it as her livelihood. For the first time since Belle Fontaine had taken him for a fool, Luke realized that he wanted to have a woman’s respect. Not just any woman’s though. Abigail’s.
He gave himself an inward shake to dislodge that thought. Then he sternly reminded himself that Mrs. Sayer could very well be the real scoundrel, not him.
She could be… couldn’t she?
♦◊♦
“What do you mean, you will handle the investment dealings?” Abby glowered at Luke across the table at the Occidental hotel several days later. This time, they were having lunch, and this time, they were discussing business. So much for Delia’s idea of courtship, not that Abby was inclined to feeling romantic at the moment, in spite of the elegant surroundings. Luke had practically told her to keep her nose out of operating her own store.
“I’m not going to let anyone take over my store,” she announced firmly, and perhaps a bit too loudly as diners at two different tables glanced in her direction. She lowered her voice. “I will not.”
Luke gave her an easy grin, the one that made him look devilish and cherubic at the same time. Drat it. She was not going to allow him to charm her out of this. “I want to run my store. I own it.” Even to her ears, she sounded petulant, but she lifted her chin in defiance anyway.
“I don’t remember saying anything about that.” He dropped a lump of sugar into his coffee and stirred. “I merely suggested that you let me set up the investment opportunities.”
“And I don’t remember you suggesting anything.” Abby frowned. “You said you were going to take charge.”
“Only of the people who want to opt in to the expansion,” Luke answered. “After all, I answer to my investors and local participation is what they are interested in.”
“The expansion will be part of my store,” Abby responded, not about to give in. “That will make it part of my business.”
“That’s true. If and when we actually build onto it.”
Luke’s tone had been much more amiable than hers. Abby took a deep breath, determined she could be equally as composed. “I thought that was the whole idea.”
“It’s part of it.” He took a sip of coffee. “Any group of investors is going to want to make sure the venture will be profitable, so for right now, we’ll
see how sales go with the spices, tea and silks.”
“That’s what we’re going to ask the ladies to buy into?”
“For now. Once the widows feel confident that they’re turning a profit, that will generate more interest from their friends. Then, I’ll see how it goes.”
“You? What about us?” As soon as the words were out, she wished she could shove them back into her mouth. Good Lord, it sounded like she was asking about them…about him and her. Like they were in a real relationship, not just business partners of sorts. Her face warmed. Blast Delia and her romantic notions. “I meant—”
“I know what you meant. You want to be included in anything that has to do with the store.”
Abby gave him a wary look. “That’s right.”
“And I commend you for it.” He tilted his head. “Here’s a suggestion. For now, while you’re still learning how to run your store, let me handle the first part of this investment angle.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Let me put it another way, then. If this investment venture doesn’t work out, it would be better to have the accounts completely separate from those of the general store.” He paused. “It would also be easier, legally, if two different people were in charge…you for the store, and me for the ladies’ club involvement.”
Abby gave him a sideways glance. “You think they’ll be more easily persuaded by you to invest because you’re an attractive man?”
Luke grinned. “Do you think so?”
She felt herself blush. Her brain seemed fond of making stupid comments today. “Are you fishing for a compliment?”
“Maybe. But I’ll go first. I think you’re attractive, too.” He sobered. “Not just beautiful, although you are. But you’ve got spunk and spirit and determination. I find those qualities highly attractive in a woman.”
Abby sputtered, sure from the intense heat radiating from her face that it was probably the color of a sunset. No one had ever recognized those qualities in her before. Oddly enough, they were the traits of which she was most proud. “In that case, I’ll admit that I think you’re honest and honorable and trustworthy.” She managed a small smile and a shrug. “In spite of being thoroughly handsome.”
He grinned again. “Am I exceedingly charming, too?”
“Hmmph.”
“Come on. Admit that I might be persuasive with the ladies’ group.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “All right. You might. So for now, I’ll acquiesce to your wishes. But once we consider building an expansion, I’m on board from then on. Agreed?” She held out her hand to shake.
“Agreed.” Luke took her hand and brought it to his lips instead. “Sealed with a kiss.”
A riot of sensations shot through her hand and up her arm. The solid warmth of his hand encasing hers, the firm press of his lips, the soft brush of breath across her knuckles. No one in the Bowery made courtly gestures like kissing a lady’s hand. And then, he turned it over and placed another kiss to her palm, followed by a slow swipe of his tongue. Heat pooled in her belly and her nipples pebbled unexpectedly beneath her bodice. Luke dropped her hand and winked at her as he stood to pull her chair. “I like being thorough.”
Flustered, she didn’t trust her voice. She just hoped she’d be able to walk, because her knees felt like jelly. There was no denying that Luke Cameron was charming.
And dangerous as a panther.
Chapter Eight
After lunch, Luke walked Abby back to the store, then saddled Diablo and headed past San Francisco’s hills toward the relative flatness to the south. The stallion needed a good run, and Luke needed a place that was peaceful and quiet.
Half-an-hour later, he reined in the sweating horse atop one of the low mesas, slipped out of the saddle, and propped himself against a rock to contemplate.
He felt like a complete ass. Abigail thought him honest and honorable. She’d said so. And here he was, devising a plan that might ultimately cause her to lose her store. Regardless of the method of ill-gotten gains that had been used to purchase the place, Sayer was dead. Even though Luke was determined to smoke out the damn accomplice who’d gone to ground, the business, at least for now, was Abigail’s. More and more, he sensed she was sincere in wanting to run the general store. She had shown a good aptitude for numbers and understanding accounts. She’d certainly taken a big interest in the new inventory of tea, spices and silks.
Although he’d gotten no report back from the Pinkerton agency yet, less and less did he feel that she’d had any prior relationship with Sayer. But maybe that was wishful thinking on his part. Which was the other part of his dilemma.
He was beginning to fall in love with her in spite of his logical mind screaming at him that everything was wrong with that notion. For better or worse—and those were definitely the wrong words to use—they were business partners, even if he had ulterior motives. He’d meant what he said about her spirit and independence. She didn’t deserve to be used or taken advantage of either in a business situation or a personal one.
He wasn’t even sure how capable he was of opening his heart again. Belle had done more than just hurt his pride. She had been the cause of his friend’s death by Luke’s own hand. All because they had both believed her lies. The tears, the begging for help, the swearing that the bruises had come from the other one along with vows of faithfulness to the one she was hoodwinking had all seemed so sincere. So real. They’d both been fools to believe her; but by then, it had been too late. Luke hadn’t trusted a woman since then.
What he should do was stamp “paid” to the foolish flirtation he’d begun at lunch. He’d only meant to tease her a bit about her remark that she thought he was attractive in order to sidetrack her dogged determination to be part of the ladies’ club plan. That intention had taken wing when she’d blushed so innocently. As far as he knew, women’s wiles didn’t extend to blushing-at-will.
Then, when she’d added he was handsome, he’d reacted like a lad wet behind the ears. Faster than a dust-devil across a Kansas prairie, the stupid question about being “charming too” had escaped his mouth. He’d wanted to see her blush again. Instead, she’d only guffawed…which his smaller head—the one not attached to his shoulders—had taken as a direct challenge. The next thing he found himself doing was kissing and licking her hand, the word thorough stuck in his brain. Fortunately, being in a restaurant quelled his ability to continue to kiss and lick her everywhere. Unfortunately, his cock enthusiastically had sprung to life in anticipation of her returning the favor. Even now, just thinking of that possibility—or plunging his shaft deeply into her warm, wet sheath—stirred him again. He steeled his thoughts. What he needed to do was plunge into a horse trough of cold water.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Could he trust Abigail? He didn’t know. He wanted to, but God help him if she’d been in cahoots with Sayer and whoever his blasted accomplice was. He would not have a shred of self-respect left if he allowed another woman to deceive him again. To trust was to be vulnerable.
And yet…a small voice, one that he had suppressed since Karl’s death, whispered that he should try.
♦◊♦
Luke Cameron had to be one of the most exasperating men she’d ever met. First—and drat him—he had charmed her into agreeing to let him handle the ladies’ club venture. Then, for the past two weeks, he’d mostly been absent from the store and maintained an aloof attitude when he was there. Even John seemed to have noticed a difference in Luke’s behavior, for he had taken to watching each of them closely.
Like he was doing now. Abby shuffled through a stack of papers on the desk in the small office, pulled one out, and handed it to John standing across from her. “Why was I not told Neptune’s Maiden would be delivering another shipment of tea and spice this week?”
He shrugged and laid it back down. “I put it in the stack. I thought you’d see it.”
“It was near the bottom.” Abby spread the invoices across the desk. “I asked t
hat any imminent deliveries be put on top.”
“It must have gotten shuffled. Maybe Cameron looked through the pile.”
As scarce as Luke had made his presence known lately, she doubted it. Besides, he’d agreed to let her handle the store’s inventory. She hadn’t meant that he needed to do some kind of vanishing act. She sighed, knowing it was a bit unreasonable to be put out with Luke because he was letting her have her way. Staying out of her way. Not that she’d told him to do that. But then, maybe he was showing her he had confidence in her abilities…
She gave herself a mental shake. Enough with going around in circles trying to figure the man out. If Delia hadn’t planted those seeds of romantic interest, Abby wouldn’t have taken any notice at all. She grimaced. That wasn’t true, either. Apart from it being extremely hard not to notice a man who stood over six feet with a commanding presence—especially one with unusual whiskey-colored eyes and a dangerous look—she enjoyed his company. He made her feel…special. She cleared her throat. He probably made every woman feel special. She only had to recall the sighs Rose and Mary heaved when he came into the room, or the smiles and easy banter he used with all the widows.
“You have something to say?” John asked, his tone surly.
Abby refocused. Dealing with John was an entirely different matter. He was touchy about any criticism regarding his work, insisting on carrying out his duties, from running the cash register to hauling inventory up from the cellar, without assistance. It was almost as though he feared he’d be fired if he let anyone help him. He probably thought her own grumpiness had to do with the ship’s invoice not being on the top of the stack. She shook her head and picked up the paper.
“This looks good. We were just about out of spices and had only a few sacks of tea left so this shipment will be right on time.”
Gunslinger: A Six Guns and Prairie Roses Novel Page 6
