by Jillian Hart
“Are you aware how offensive you are?” Her blue eyes challenged him with an uncommon might for so small a woman.
“I can’t be offending you too much, because you’re fighting to keep that perfect mouth of yours from smiling.”
“You think my mouth is perfect?”
“Any man would.” Perfect for smiling, for kissing, for whispering endearments in the darkest hours of the night. Heat spilled into his veins, burning like fire through every part of him. He swallowed hard, fighting an unwanted desire. Love could control a man, and so could lust. Those weaknesses weren’t going to have power over him. Best to get right to his reason for coming and stop letting Melody’s considerable charm get to him. “What are your plans?”
“Plans?” She blinked at him. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“You need money and a place to stay.”
“You mean a job and a less expensive room, perhaps at a boardinghouse.” Doe-eyed, she focused her gaze on him.
She was an odd sort of female—as fragile as any, but the set of her lovely, perfectly kissable mouth and the proud set of her spine spoke of a strength he had to admire. She wanted to earn her own way. Hard not to like her for that.
“I could help you there.” He ought to kick himself for volunteering. He knew better than to get involved in any way with a woman looking for marriage, but she wasn’t interested in him—there was a big relief—and her honest goodness lured him. No sense in lying to himself about that.
“I know everyone in these parts. Trudy over at the boardinghouse ought to have room for you. There aren’t a whole lot of jobs needing to be filled in a town this size, but I reckon we can find you something.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Her gaze searched his, and the tension carved into her delicate features began to ease. He’d seen nothing or no one more captivating than golden-haired Melody Pennington as she lit up with happiness in the soft glow of the morning light. Dimples bracketed the widest smile he’d ever seen. Joy sparkled within her with a brightness she did not hold back. She hopped off the cushion. “Gabe, I can’t wait to get started. I’ve never worked for a living, but I loved spending time in the kitchen with our staff.”
Hell, what in blazes was wrong with him? He was touched in the head not to have thought this through. She was a siren enchanting him, her and her alone, because his reaction to her wasn’t his fault. He refused to let it be. He shook off the daze he must be in, struggled to clear his mind and launched himself out of the chair. Once his back was to her, his common sense kicked in. “Is there any sort of work you can do?”
“Lots of things.” She grabbed her fancy wool coat with the pearl buttons and silk trim. “I’m good with a needle, so I could do seamstress work. I’m well-read, so I could be a private tutor. I have a knack for baking—”
“Baking?” Now, there was a possibility. He took her coat, the fine fabric soft against his calloused hands, and helped her into it. Her rose scent filled his nose, and his skin prickled as if every inch of him were about to burst into flame. As he settled the garment around her shoulders a wave of longing crashed through him. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined to gain self-control, but heat continued to pound through his bloodstream, a desire he did not want. He gritted his teeth, but it did not abate.
“Is there a bakery in town?” Her question came as if from far away. His pulse thundered so hard in his ears that he could barely hear her.
His eyes snapped open to find her gazing up at him. He’d seen everything in his line of work—horrors and violence, desperation and dishonor—so the hope radiating from her moved him. That had to be why he found his fingers against the luxuriously soft silk of her face, her cheek cradled against the palm of his hand. His tired soul was hungry for her hope, and not because he was drawn to the woman.
“We’ll start there. The place is always open for business this time of morning.” He withdrew his hand, cleared his throat and turned crisply away. “Folks drive for miles just to buy Mrs. McKaslin’s cinnamon rolls.”
“Maybe I should get my other bonnet. I want to make a good impression.”
“You look fine.” He sounded impatient and abrupt.
“No need to growl like a grizzly.” She grabbed her reticule from the top of the bureau, feeling it to make sure her grandmother’s pearls were still safely tucked inside. The side of her face tingled where his touch had been. “After this morning, I will be completely out of your way.”
“I doubt it.” He yanked open the door.
“You don’t think I can get a job?”
“I think I won’t be that lucky. You’ll keep turning up like an old penny.”
“If only to torture you,” she agreed, and walked through the door he held open for her.
“I’m helping you on one condition.” He took the key from her and locked her door. “You don’t mention a word of this to my mother.”
“I won’t lie if she asks me outright. But I will assure her that I’m not interested in you whatsoever.”
“Then come with me, Melody.” Her name on his tongue rumbled low and deep as if from a dream.
His big hand covered hers, pressing warmly against her palm, skin to skin. Lightning jolted up her arm, blinding and sudden. Time stood still, and the lamplit hallway and stairwell faded from sight, leaving only Gabe Brooks. Dressed as usual all in black, he towered in front of her as dark as any shadow. Not even the light dared touch him as he strode through it, his boot heels sounding like a knell on the floorboards, taking all the air with him. She could not breathe. She could not think, only stare and blink blindly after him as he hesitated on the stairs.
“I suppose a fine lady like you would rather not be seen in public with a rough like me.” His voice boomed, as if he were the hardest of men and nothing could injure him.
She did not believe it. Gabe had developed a way of coping with an often harsh job where he made his living with a gun, that was all. Somehow she managed to get her feet to carry her forward, bringing her close enough to see the faint, hard-to-read pinch of hurt in the pleasant crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“I’m not so fine,” she assured him. “And you are not so rough.”
“That’s what you think now, but wait until you know me better.” He offered his arm to help her down the stairs.
“I thought you wanted nothing more to do with me after this morning.” She slipped her arm through his, this time not startled by the bolt of sensation that hit the moment they touched. “Have you changed your mind about that?”
“No, but I took your threat of torturing me with your presence seriously.”
“A big strong man like you isn’t afraid of a woman half his size, is he?”
“It’s not fear, sweetheart. It’s experience.”
Someone had broken Gabe’s heart? No, she couldn’t see a hint of it in the stony set of his profile or in the unyielding angle of his jaw. He was a man who would never let anyone that close.
They reached the bottom stair and he released her. Her arm felt odd without his touch. When his strides lengthened to put more distance between them, she ached with a strange loneliness.
“Good mornin’, Gabe,” Mr. Owens called from behind the front desk.
“Mornin’.” Gabe nodded once as he pulled open the heavy door for her. Sunshine stung her eyes as she stumbled onto the boardwalk. Her breath rose in a misty fog. It might be early, but already the street teemed with horse and wagon traffic.
“Good morning, Marshal.” A man with a mop of brown hair and kind brown eyes tipped his hat on the boardwalk. “Miss Pennington, hope you have a good day.”
“You as well, Mr. Dermot.” She remembered the livery stable owner, who had generously hauled her trunks from the depot to the hotel when she’d arrived. He had been friendly and endearingly respectful, and she’d considered him good-looking. But compared to Gabe, who stalked protectively at her side, Austin Dermot now seemed wanting.
I suppose that�
��s not the best sign, she thought to herself. Men were everywhere in this town—dismounting from their horses at the hitching post, sweeping their bit of boardwalk in front of their shops, halting wagons in the street to allow her and Gabe to cross to the other side. Several bachelors tipped their hats to her and offered friendly smiles.
“If you’re looking for a husband, you don’t need to worry about taking out another advertisement.” Gabe leaned closer, and the low notes of his voice seemed to ring inside her.
“Your mother explained in her letters there were few marriageable women in this remote county. I suppose that makes me something of a curiosity.”
“More like a commodity.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to say something about how women are like cattle again. I understood you were trying to keep your mother from marrying us off, but if you truly believe such a thing, I intend to smack you with my reticule.”
“Didn’t you notice I’m carrying a gun?”
“Oh, I saw perfectly well. You would be mistaken if you think such a weapon would stop me.”
His laughter joined hers, harmony to her melody. She hadn’t noticed climbing up the steps to the boardwalk or that they’d come to the end of the block. Gabe captivated her. She hardly noticed the shop window directly in front of her, where a tray of pastries and iced rolls enticed passersby to come inside.
“The couple who own this place are my parents’ age. Their older sons belonged to the same cavalry brigade as my brother Nate and I did during the war.”
“You were a soldier?” That shouldn’t have surprised her. She could see it now, especially with the soft morning light falling on him and emphasizing his muscled discipline and his mighty spirit. Easy to imagine him in a blue uniform astride his horse, riding fearlessly into the fray. Fine, so she had a soft spot for men in uniform. Maybe that’s why her face felt suddenly warm.
“I enlisted as soon as I was of age. I spent two years in and another two after the war riding special missions for the army.” He seemed remote again, his features as lifeless as granite.
Perhaps that was why he kept everyone at a distance. “My father fought, and he came home a different man.”
“War will change you, that’s for sure.” Gabe cleared his throat, broke away from her as if ending the subject and opened the door. “Mrs. McKaslin?”
“Gabriel!” A cheerful women with a cap of silver-threaded hair peered up from her work at a long front counter. “How nice to see you. Is this the young woman I’ve been hearing about? The one your mother brought out for you?”
“Not for me,” he denied affably. “With your daughter-in-law busy with her new baby, I figured you might need help around here.”
“Do I!” The matronly woman circled the end of the counter, her smile welcoming.
“Melody is looking for work,” he explained, stepping out of the way at the last moment as the bakery owner took her by the hands, her grip warm and comforting.
“Come have a hot cup of tea. You’re freezing, child. I’ll get you one of my cinnamon rolls and you and I shall have a good talk.”
How nice that sounded. The potbellied stove in the center of the front room coughed out a puff of smoke when the wind gusted against the front windows. A few small tables and chairs, empty for now, ringed the stove. Curtains framed the wide windows, giving the shop a homey feel.
“I’ll talk to Trudy at the boardinghouse for you.” Gabe tipped his hat to her, a gesture of farewell. When the cowbell above the door jangled and cold blew in on a cruel wind, she felt twenty degrees colder within. Gabe walked away, closing the door behind him, taking all the warmth from her.
I don’t even like him, she told herself. But did her heart listen?
Not a chance.
Chapter Four
Gabe rubbed at the pain hammering behind his forehead, signed the warrant in front of him and squinted through the sun-glazed glass. The front windows gave a good view of town, and his pulse lurched at the sight of a dove-gray wool coat and the flash of bright blue skirts amid the weathered storefronts and the plainer clothes of the townsfolk.
Melody Pennington. What in blazes was he going to do about that woman? Ever since he’d strolled away from the bakery and from her, it had felt as if something was missing, as if he’d left something important behind.
“Is that the gal?” Mac McKaslin, one of his fellow Range Riders, ambled over to see what had grabbed Gabe’s attention. He crossed his arms over his chest, his wedding ring glinting in the sun. As a married man, he thought himself wise in the mysteries of women and matrimony. “No wonder she’s caught your eye.”
“My eye isn’t caught.” So far, anyhow, and it would stay that way if he had anything to say about it. “And judging by the look of things, she’ll be accepting some poor fool’s marriage proposal by the end of the week.”
“Some lucky man, you mean.” Mac was the toughest of the tough, and how he’d succumbed to the wiles of romance was nothing short of a puzzle to Gabe. “I know what you’re gonna say. That marriage is a trap men fall into, but the truth is, men don’t fall into it alone. Women have it worse than we do.”
“Says the man who is wrapped around his wife’s little finger. She so much as whispers and you jump to do her bidding.”
“I want to make her happy.” Mac chuckled, convinced he was the wiser one. “Marriage comes with a lot of comforts.”
“Only one, you mean.” Desire fired in his blood again and he imagined Melody in his bed, with her hair strewn across his pillow and the buttons marching primly down her dress half undone….
Whoa, there, man. He pulled the reins on that thought, but nothing short of sudden death was going to put a halt to the fire for her licking through his veins. Watching her through the window wasn’t helping, because the wind snatched at the curls tumbling from her topknot and tousled them, just as he would do if she were his to claim.
His palms broke into a sweat as she waltzed closer. Traffic stopped in the street for her and bachelors tipped their hats as she stepped onto the boardwalk. Her smile was shy and her manner cordial but reserved, and that impressed him. He could think of any number of women who would use their wiles to find a quick resolution to their financial problems. And if a small voice at the back of his head warned him that he’d become too cynical, then he pushed it away.
“It’s awful nice to come home at the end of the day to a tasty supper on the table and a loving wife to share it with.” Mac sounded as if he were already looking forward to that, now the workday’s end was near.
“Having someone to cook and serve your meals wouldn’t be bad.” That was why he lived with his folks. He was gone more often than not, and when he’d lived in his little house in town he’d hated coming back to an empty place and frying up something to eat, the silence echoing around him like heartache. “She could clean, too. Earn her keep.”
“You can’t be serious.” Mac shook his head, casting him a look of mild disappointment. “A wife shouldn’t be convenient. She should be the pinnacle.”
“The what?”
“The pinnacle. The reason for it all.”
Jeesh. He shook his head. Look what love did to a man. Good thing he didn’t have to worry about that happening to him. Normally he had iron control, so he couldn’t explain why his gaze remained glued to Melody as she swept along the front windows. Bathed in the afternoon sun, her golden hair absorbed the light and reflected it in different dazzling hues—flax, amber, honey, pure gold. Her creamy skin held a blush of rose from the wind, and why hadn’t he noticed her round breasts and her small waist? Quite appealing.
“Looks like you’re in trouble now,” Mac commented, retreating to his desk.
Gabe gulped, the last physical act he had control of as his stomach swooped downward. He could see her slender hand reach and grasp the doorknob. She was coming in! His pulse reared like a panicked horse and took off galloping.
“Gabe Brooks.” Melody blew in on a ray of sunshine. “
I don’t believe it. You’re sitting at a desk working like any other man. You’re mortal, after all.”
Behind him, Mac choked on a hoot of laughter as he closed the back door. The hinges creaked, and Gabe was alone in the room with Melody.
“Of course I’m human,” he argued, pushing out of his chair.
“That’s a point to argue.” Merriment deepened the dimples bracketing her amazing mouth. She reached into her reticule and withdrew a fold of greenbacks. “I checked with Mr. Owens to see what you paid him yesterday. This is the same amount to the dollar.”
“What?” For some reason his mind had gone dim again. He stared at the money she laid on the corner of his desk. Why wouldn’t his brain work? He breathed her soft rose fragrance into every part of him. The drum of his pulse thundered in his ears and yearning he didn’t understand seized him by the gut. He wanted to taste the pearled pink softness of her mouth and kiss each deep-set dimple. He wanted to—
Whoa, man. What had happened to self-control? To his vow not to let this female affect him?
“I’m paying you back for my hotel stay.” Her chin went up. “I meant what I said, and you will take this money. Trust me, you don’t want to make me angry.”
“Sure.” She couldn’t hurt a fly. In fact, he’d wager she was the type of lady who carefully carried spiders and ladybugs from her home and set them safely free outside. “I’m an armed man, but I’m quaking in my boots.”
“Are you making fun of me?” She squinted at him, and with the furrows at her brow and the way her nose crinkled slightly, he’d never seen anyone more adorable.
What was wrong with him? The barriers he put between him and all women seemed to have tumbled down.
She’s just a nice lady, he thought to himself. And it was his own fault that a nice lady was the one weakness he had.
“No, ma’am,” he said seriously. “I can see you are dead serious. Where did you get the money?”
