Donovan's Bed: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 1

by Debra Mullins

  “Now, ladies,” the reverend called out. “Back off a bit and give Mr. Donovan some room.”

  The herd of skirts and petticoats shifted. Inch by inch, the ladies moved back from the platform. Finally Sarah had a clear view of Donovan.

  He looked so handsome, like a gentleman desperado. He’d slicked back his hair beneath the brim of his black hat, and a few strands blew in the gentle spring breeze. His dimple flashed as he conversed with Reverend Westerly, and as he picked up the first piece of pie, she noticed how strong and masculine his tanned, callused hands looked next to the dainty white china plate.

  It was no wonder the women were all panting to catch his eye.

  Donovan lifted a forkful of flaky-crusted blueberry pastry to his mouth. His gaze met hers as those sensual lips closed over the fork, sliding the pie between his teeth. He chewed, his expression thoughtful, the muscles of his jaw and throat working in a way she found strangely arousing. He swallowed and nodded, then took a drink of water and went on to the next slice of pie.

  Sarah stood captivated as he slowly lifted a bite of Emmaline Tremont’s lemon meringue to his mouth and slid it between his lips, his tongue darting out to catch an escaping crumb. He sent Sarah a cocky grin, then deliberately licked the fork. Her heart did a little flip in her chest.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he moved to the next pie. He was seducing her without laying a finger on her. No man had ever affected her like this before. And while the other women in the crowd sighed and murmured, it was Sarah he watched. It was Sarah he invited to come closer with a mere flash of a dimple and a gleam in his eye. It was only Sarah he tempted to join him in the sensual promises he made without speaking a word.

  She laid a hand on her bosom, her pulse pounding. She had never imagined she could feel this way just from watching a man eat a piece of pie! She wanted that sexy mouth savoring her, tasting and licking her, as if she were a delicious morsel he couldn’t get enough of. Her hand shook as she made notes in her pad.

  At the last entry, she found herself holding her breath when he once more raised the fork to his lips, holding her gaze, and she had to close her eyes when he started chewing. Good Lord, the man would think her crazy if he knew what she was feeling! But when she looked again, he was smiling at her, and his eyes glowed with a hot need that matched her own.

  By the time he ruled an ancient widow named Mrs. Pepperidge the winner of the pie contest, Sarah was ready to drag him into an alley and gobble him up like peach cobbler.

  She turned away quickly from temptation and headed across the square.

  While she knew they were well-matched in passion, it was the day-to-day living that she wasn’t sure about. Seeing him doing something as domestic as judging a pie contest made her sway toward accepting his proposal. But other times he got that mean and edgy look on his face, and she wasn’t so sure.

  She had made two errors in judgment when it came to the men in her life. With both Luke Petrie and Ross Turner, she had discovered the hard way that the relationship would not work.

  She wanted to be very careful with Donovan. He mattered too much.

  “Yoohoo, Sarah!” Mrs. Castor descended on her from the nearby refreshment table. Sarah turned, determined to pretend she hadn’t seen the mayor’s wife, but then she spotted Donovan heading toward her like a bullet from the opposite direction. The look on his face echoed the hot need that throbbed through her. She whirled to face Mrs. Castor with a wide smile.

  “Mrs. Castor, how are you?”

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Sarah,” the mayor’s wife said, just as Donovan caught up with them. “The Ladies’ Auxiliary could certainly use your help at the refreshment table this afternoon.”

  Sarah’s jaw dropped. For the past three years, the Ladies’ Auxiliary for the Betterment of Burr had made it quite clear that they would sooner accept a mule as a member than Sarah Calhoun. Yet here was the president of the organization herself, requesting Sarah’s help with a committee project.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Castor,” Donovan said, taking Sarah’s hand and firmly placing it on his arm.

  “Well, hello, Mr. Donovan.” Mrs. Castor’s bright, inquisitive gaze went from Donovan to Sarah and back again. “I was just asking Sarah if she would be willing to help out the committee. Though if the two of you have plans…”

  “We don’t,” Sarah interjected, her pulse skipping from the mere pressure of Donovan’s hand pressing hers on his arm. Lordy, she had to get away from him before she forgot herself and did something disgraceful—like eat him alive. “I’d be happy to help out, Mrs. Castor.”

  The mayor’s wife beamed and clapped her pudgy hands together. “Well, then, that’s wonderful!”

  “Sarah,” Donovan warned.

  But Sarah merely smiled, mocking him with her eyes. Deliberately, she pulled her hand from his arm. “Now, now, everyone should help out the community.”

  “Yes, indeed.” Mrs. Castor linked her elbow through Sarah’s. “We’re so happy to have you with us, Sarah, especially after the misunderstanding.”

  “Misunderstanding?” Perplexed, Sarah barely enjoyed the thwarted look on Donovan’s face as Mrs. Castor led her off.

  “Yes, that misunderstanding about what happened three years ago. It’s amazing how one man’s lies can ruin someone’s reputation.”

  “Isn’t it,” Sarah murmured, still confused.

  Mrs. Castor pursed her lips. “That Art Foley’s been telling tales about you all this time. But Mr. Donovan set him straight.”

  “He did?”

  “Oh, yes, he got Mr. Foley to confess to lying right in front of everyone in the saloon last week. Not that a lady talks about what happens in saloons—but this is just between you and me now, isn’t it?”

  “Of course.”

  “And we’re all sorry about misjudging you. But it’s all water under the bridge now, isn’t it? And we’d all love to make amends.” Mrs. Castor patted Sarah’s hand. “Not that I ever really believed any of those lies.”

  “Of course not.” Sarah’s mind was in a whirl. Donovan had done something that had somehow erased the stain on her reputation. How? And why?

  The instant she could slip away from Mrs. Castor, she would ask him.

  Escaping Mrs. Castor was easier said than done.

  Manning the punch bowl for an hour was not Sarah’s idea of a good time, but the mayor’s wife ran the refreshment table like a general commanding the troops. Sarah found herself trapped between Mrs. Castor’s watchful eye and Donovan’s brooding stare.

  Not that he was lacking for company.

  Donovan couldn’t turn around without bumping into a woman hopeful of capturing his attention. Any other day, Sarah might have enjoyed the spectacle of seeing him besieged by marriage-minded women. But today she was nagged by lustful impulses, and she felt oddly proprietary toward him—which both confused and frightened her.

  What she needed more than anything was a few quiet moments to get her emotions under control. Or maybe just a few moments alone with Donovan.

  She also wanted to ask him what he had done to repair her reputation.

  The opportunity for retreat arrived when Buford Beaumont’s prize hog escaped and disrupted the three-legged race, sending people sprawling everywhere. In the commotion, Sarah slipped away from the refreshment table. Now if she could just catch Donovan’s eye before Mrs. Castor realized she was gone…

  “Sarah Ann Calhoun, you stop right there!”

  Muttering beneath her breath, Sarah halted by Doc Mercer’s office and faced Susannah as her sister caught up with her.

  “Are you sneaking off to work again? Heavens, Sarah, why can’t you just let yourself have a good time for once?”

  “I—”

  “And what happened to that lovely pink dress you were wearing?” Suzie interrupted. “Do you have some sort of aversion to looking nice?”

  Sarah could see Donovan looking around for her. If she could just get rid of Su
zie… “I changed. Now, if you’ll just excuse me—”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Suzie stepped closer, studying her sister’s face. “Something’s wrong.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Sarah glanced at Donovan again. He didn’t look happy that she had disappeared, and she wouldn’t put it past the man to fling her over his shoulder and carry her back forcibly if he thought she was trying to escape to her office.

  “You may be the smart one, Sarah, but don’t treat me like I’m stupid. I can tell that something is bothering you. What is it?”

  At the simple caring in her sister’s tone, Sarah smiled ruefully. “I never could hide anything from you, could I?”

  “No, so you might as well just start talking.”

  “I don’t know how to tell you this, but—”

  “It’s a man, isn’t it?”

  Sarah nodded. “Jack Donovan. He asked me to marry him. I’m sorry, Suzie.”

  “Sorry?” Susannah stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. “How can you be sorry that a man like that asked you to marry him? I’d put a banner headline in the newspaper if he asked me!”

  Startled by Suzie’s easy acceptance of the news, Sarah replied, “I haven’t accepted yet. That’s why I haven’t told Mama; I don’t want to get her hopes up. But I had to tell you.”

  “Why is that?” Susannah’s eyes widened. “Oh, Sarah, you must have wanted to smack me when I announced that I intended to marry Mr. Donovan!”

  Sarah grinned. “It did give me a bad moment or two. How was I supposed to tell my sister that the man she came home to marry had already proposed to me?”

  “Exactly the way you just did.” Susannah hugged Sarah. “I’m so happy for you!”

  “Well, I haven’t accepted. And I may not.” As Susannah pulled back to gape at her, Sarah said, “I need to be very sure about this, Suzie. I can’t take the chance of being wrong. Not again.”

  “Sniffing all that printer’s ink has finally made you crazy,” Susannah declared. “The most eligible bachelor in town has asked you to marry him, and you aren’t sure if you’re going to accept?”

  “Please understand, Suzie.” Sarah bit her lip. “He might change his mind, and I’d rather find out sooner than later.”

  Susannah gave an indelicate snort. “You don’t have a lot of faith in yourself, do you? Are you in love with him?”

  Sarah ignored the question, too afraid of what her answer would be. “I’m just not rushing into anything. This way either one of us can back out of we feel it isn’t going to work.”

  “You’re fooling yourself, Sarah.”

  “Maybe. But this is the way it has to be, so please don’t say anything to Mama just yet.”

  “Fine.” Susannah turned back toward the crowd. “Uh-oh, there’s Mrs. Castor.”

  “Drat.” The mayor’s wife had noticed her, and Sarah sighed as the woman imperiously beckoned. “You know, I think I liked it better when I was a social outcast.”

  “Back to your punch bowl, Sarah,” Suzie teased with a grin.

  “I was trying to get to Jack,” Sarah muttered. “I wanted to ask him something, but now he’s surrounded, and I can’t seem to escape the Ladies’ Auxiliary.”

  Suzie shaded her eyes and peered across the square to where Donovan stood in a cluster of several women. “You want me to go run them off? All’s fair in love and war.”

  Sarah grinned. “You could do me a big favor and tell Jack that I’d like to talk to him about something. Tell him to meet me at the newspaper office in about half an hour. I should be able to get away by then.”

  “You’ve got it. And if Mrs. Castor won’t let you go, I’ll serve punch.”

  Sarah gave her sister a big hug. “Thanks, Suzie.”

  “What are sisters for? Don’t worry about your man, Sarah. I’ll take good care of him.”

  “I know you will.”

  Susannah watched her sister take her place back at the refreshment table, then turned a considering gaze on the crowd that had gathered around Donovan. She would not only chase them off, but she would use the opportunity to ascertain whether Jack Donovan was good enough for Sarah.

  She smoothed her hair and her dress to be sure she was presentable. She even pinched her cheeks to make them rosy. Just because she was doing her sisterly duty in interrogating a man didn’t mean she couldn’t look good while doing it.

  “So tell me,” said a low, masculine voice from above her. “Are you really doing your sister a favor here? Or are you planning on taking her beau away from her?”

  Suzie glanced up and saw a man at the window of Doc Mercer’s clinic, just a couple of feet above her head. He had long, straw-colored hair, dark eyes and a mustache. The smirk on his handsome face made her instinctively want to smack it off.

  “I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” she said.

  “You’re pretty enough to get the whole cavalry come a-courtin’. Why don’t you just leave your sister’s man be?”

  “You’re mistaken, sir,” Suzie said, maintaining a civil tone with effort.

  As she walked away, he said, “If I were you, I’d just leave well enough alone.”

  “Well, you’re not me,” she snapped, irritated at the way her pulse skittered at the sound of that slow, Southern drawl. She propped her hands on her hips. “Perhaps you should take your own advice and leave well enough alone.”

  He laughed, showing her a glimpse of white teeth and a strong throat.

  “You’re something, princess. If I weren’t a sick man, I’d come out there and—”

  She cut him off with a chilly look of disdain. “You’d have to catch me first.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Oh, I’d catch you, all right. I’m a U.S. marshal, ma’am. And we always get our man—or woman.”

  “Conceited ox.” Turning on her heel, she headed back toward the festival, the rascal’s laughter chasing behind her.

  Donovan noticed immediately when Sarah left the refreshment table, but before he could chase after her, he was cornered by the Tremont sisters.

  Emmaline stood nearby, no doubt acting as a chaperone, though she turned a blind eye to her sister’s obvious flirting. Donovan, scanning the area for Sarah, hardly noticed Juliana’s attempts to capture his interest. He just wanted them both to go away so he could catch up with his intended.

  Finally Sarah reappeared and took up her station at the punch bowl. She met his gaze for a moment, glanced at the Tremonts, then arched her brows.

  He looked down at Juliana’s proprietary hand on his arm and at once realized how the situation might look to Sarah. Suddenly hankering for a glass of punch, he tried to break free, but Juliana’s grip became tighter than a bear trap. Helpless, he could only look over at Sarah, unsure how to escape without committing some grave social error. But at the militant look in his sassy girl’s eye, he found himself weighing the consequences of a social blunder on his part against the gossip likely to result if his future bride were to launch herself over the refreshment table and pluck Juliana Tremont bald.

  Just then the cavalry arrived in the form of a beautiful woman.

  “Well, well, Juliana Tremont. The last time I saw you, you were running the lemonade table at the church bazaar. Looks like you’re still sour.”

  The tall, statuesque woman who had joined their group was dressed in a fancy store-bought blue dress with lace trim that showcased her curvy figure. Her silver-blonde hair was done up in ringlets that looked alluring rather than childish, and her lush mouth curved in a confident smile.

  “Susannah Calhoun. I’d heard you were back.” From the tone of Juliana’s voice, she didn’t seem overjoyed at the prospect.

  Donovan would have been happy to see the devil himself if it meant escaping the Tremonts. “Miss Calhoun, I’m Jack Donovan. I know your family.”

  “Mr. Donovan.” Slanting him a flirtatious glance, Susannah offered her hand. Donovan took it and held it.

  “You’re interrupting our conversa
tion, Susannah.” Emmaline looked down her nose and sniffed.

  “Emmaline,” Susannah said with a smile. “You haven’t changed a bit. Such a pity.” Dismissing the Tremonts with an elegant shrug, she turned back to Donovan. “Mr. Donovan, I find myself in need of an escort to the pie-eating contest.”

  “Allow me.” Donovan offered his elbow, but Juliana still clung to his other arm. Both Susannah and Donovan stared at Juliana until she removed her hand. Donovan nodded at the Tremonts. “Ladies.”

  “But—” Juliana spluttered.

  “So nice seeing you again,” Sarah trilled with an insincere smile as Donovan led her away.

  Donovan dared not say a word until they were out of earshot; then he started chuckling. “Masterfully done, Miss Calhoun. I am in your debt.”

  “There’s nothing I like better than having a handsome man in my debt, Mr. Donovan.” Susannah sent a sharp look to a pretty girl who stood nearby, staring moon-eyed at Donovan. The girl started, blushed beet-red, and hurried away.

  “You’re very good at that,” he remarked.

  “Practice. While you’re with me, none of them will bother you.” She arched one perfectly curved eyebrow. “Unless you want to be bothered.”

  “There’s only one woman I’m interested in, and that’s your sister.”

  “Well.” Susannah’s lips curved. “That puts me in my place.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Calhoun. You’re a beautiful woman, but—”

  “No, no.” Susannah waved a hand to cut him off. “I’m glad to hear it. My sister has never been lucky in love, Mr. Donovan, but I’m hoping you might change that.”

  “I’m trying to. I intend to marry her.”

  “I see.” Susannah stopped to admire a quilt that was being raffled off, the proceeds of which would go to the school fund. “Sarah’s made some bad decisions in the past.”

  “I don’t care about the past.”

  “But I do. She’s been hurt, Mr. Donovan.” Susannah slanted him a look that, had she been a man, would have had him reaching for his gun. “I intend to see that she doesn’t get hurt again.”