Summary of An Irresistible Temptation
Sophie Malloy had her heart ripped in two and tossed back in her pretty face. Luckily, this classically trained pianist has a penchant for travel. From Boston, she sets out for Colorado to do a favor for her only sister-in-law. Not expecting excitement in tiny Spring City, she never imagined she’d be knocked into the street five minutes after disembarking the train. And certainly not by a dusty cowboy with soft brown eyes and a devastatingly sexy grin.
Riley Dalcourt is stunned. At first meeting, he knows Sophie is the woman of his dreams, with her dark hair, intelligent eyes, and purple unmentionables! Unfortunately, he’s already engaged. Honor bound, he’s determined to go through with his commitment to his fiancée. Yet he simply can’t seem to stay away from the sweet-tempered beauty who has entered his life so unexpectedly, or forget her when she leaves just as quickly.
With the lively 1880s San Francisco and the dangerous Barbary Coast as the backdrop, Sophie and Riley reunite while following their individual dreams. Amid cable cars and concert halls, they must discover if their undeniable attraction is true love or merely An Irresistible Temptation.
An
Irresistible
Temptation
Sydney Jane Baily
Cat Whisker Press
Massachusetts
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by Cat Whisker Press at Smashwords
Copyright 2013 Sydney Jane Baily
Cover: Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs
Copyeditor: Chloe Bearuski
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the copyright holder, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review or article.
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For more information, contact Cat Whisker Press through the contact page at www.CatWhiskerStudio.com.
Discover other titles by Sydney Jane Baily at her author page at Smashwords.com.
This book is also available in print.
DEDICATION
Tim, Pandora, and Jasper
my three constants
With love
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I offer heartfelt gratitude to my enthusiastic beta readers: Renee Sevelitte, who found the first major story flaws; Tammy Thompson, who went above and beyond the task, meticulously pointing out typos, while giving me the honest truth about the first chapter; Pamela Hodgin, who earnestly read my story despite it being out of her normal genre of interest; and Holly Meyerhoff, who is almost too polite to be a beta reader, but made me rethink the latter half of the story.
Thanks to the young man at the San Francisco Cable Car Museum (whose name I didn’t get), who gave me valuable information. And to Wendy Kramer, librarian in the San Francisco History Center at the San Francisco Public Library for sending much-needed primary sources.
Thanks to my cheering section. You know who you are. And, of course, thanks to my mom, who read the nearly final draft, chapter by chapter, right along with me. We had a fun time.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
A Note from the Author
Other Works
Excerpt: An Improper Situation
About the Author
Chapter One
Spring City, Colorado
The train rocked sharply to the left and Sophie smacked her head against the window for the umpteenth time that day. Really! She rubbed her temple, running her hand over her dark hair. This was certainly not the smooth ride between New York and Boston, or even between Paris and Rome, for that matter. This was the West. This was freedom, she thought to herself with the merest hint of a smile.
As the train crossed over into Colorado, heading for tiny Spring City, none of the other passengers would suspect she was anyone out of the ordinary. Looking at her, in her well-appointed blue dress, her hands folded in her lap, no one would know or care that she was a world-class pianist. Her studies at The Boston Conservatory of Music under its famed director Julius Eichberg and then at The National Academy of St. Cecilia in Rome were of little use to her at that moment.
Sophie stretched delicately before turning her face once again to the window. Briefly, she caught sight of her own reflection. Although the man she’d believed she would marry had torn her heart asunder the previous year, destroying her composure with all the roughness of a piano’s dissonant second interval, she decided her appearance was unchanged.
Well, perhaps a bit weary-looking around her eyes, which stared solemnly back at her. On the inside, however, Sophie struggled to regain the self-possession she’d felt before Philip went to Oxford University to study philosophy—without her.
What was the point, she had wondered aloud to him, to debate life and God and Heaven and whatnot? When she played her pianoforte, she knew the meaning of life. And she even suspected she’d heard the sounds of Heaven in many a concerto. Why debate and deliberate? Why not just live life and be grateful?
Philip had not invited her to Oxford, and she’d left Rome alone, returning home to Boston.
She focused on the vastness outside the train, feeling a little disappointed at having seen so few buffalo. No great herds were left. Her sister-in-law, Charlotte, who had lived in Colorado until she’d met Sophie’s brother nearly a year and a half earlier, had told her about the wide open spaces. Sophie had never seen the magnificent open plains before, and, in that respect, she had not been disappointed.
However, she had to admit that each time the train pulled into a station, no matter how small the pocket of civilization, she would breathe a sigh of relief. And when the long sequence of passenger cars, sleeper car, dining car, and baggage car, all pulled by a strong locomotive and guarded at the rear by the caboose, left a town behind and wound its way farther across the deserted prairie, anxiety gripped her anew. She felt as though she were on a tiny boat in a nearly limitless ocean.
When she finally arrived in Spring City, Colorado, Sophie stood on the station platform, looking expectantly for Doctor Cuthins and his wife; Doc and Sarah were old friends of Charlotte, who was now the toast of Boston’s literary society and Sophie’s brother’s adored bride. They had attended her wedding in Boston the year before. Having them there, representing Spring City, had been a
generous gift to Charlotte. Sophie’s gift to her brother, Reed, and her new sister-in-law was an original composition, which she played at the reception hall while they danced.
After the wedding, she’d waited patiently through the long winter that turned into spring and then the insufferably hot months for their first baby to be born. At last, she made her escape from Boston’s smothering atmosphere in early August.
And here she stood, thousands of miles from home.
Sophie waited and waited, until the train had departed and the platform was empty. She was thirsty. Offering—no, insisting—on handling the task of packing up Charlotte’s things had seemed a brilliant idea a few months ago. Despite her own brother’s hesitation over her safety and despite Charlotte’s brother’s offer to complete the task himself, Sophie had claimed the job; she’d dismissed Reed’s concerns and then pointed out Thaddeus’s lack of reliability—Charlotte’s brother was still a bit of an unknown entity, who never stayed in one place very long. It was the perfect excuse for Sophie to get away, see the west, and forget Philip. Or at least, she would try to.
She sat down on her trunk, her carpet bag on her lap and wondered what she should do. This was not Boston. No cabriolets happened by to take stranded passengers to their destinations.
She sighed. It was not the first time she’d found herself either alone or stranded, or both, in a strange city. But this was the first time she’d seen a mule pass by, looking as if it were more composed than she, in fact, felt. Now that she was off the train, the big open space all around the small town seemed even bigger, and the town, itself, seemed to shrink, becoming the littlest oasis in a massive landscape.
Humming to herself, she jiggled her leg, checked the pins holding her hat, and desperately wished for a cafe offering some strong Turkish brew and a pastry.
Just then a strange noise took her attention to the sky; an ugly black bird with a small head and large black body was cruising lazily back and forth, making a warbled bark. She shuddered. This was the “wild west,” indeed, as Thomas Reid had described it, and not for the first time, she wished she hadn’t read her younger sister’s copy of The Scalp Hunters before traveling.
So, what to do? Obviously, there was no telephone nearby, and a telegraph office wouldn’t help her now. Even the ticket window was closed and shuttered.
With resolve, Sophie half pushed, half dragged her trunk until it landed in the dirt next to the platform. She took the two steps down to street level and grabbed the handle. Luckily, having traveled extensively, she was not one to over pack. Still, it was a struggle as she resorted to pulling the trunk along the dusty road with her carpet bag perched on top.
Spring City was not big by any standard, and the station was at one end of the town, but which end was Charlotte’s home? That, Sophie did not know.
“Main Street” stated the sign, as she approached the first block of buildings and she paused. It had to be a joke as she saw no other streets at all. But on the horizon were mountains, grand, even awe-inspiring. She shivered despite the heat of the day and the difficult task at hand. She really was on the edge of nowhere.
All the buildings looked similar, with flat fronts and squared off tops, though she could see behind the frontage that the roofs were slanted as any in the east. Some had a second story, with two windows over two, but that was the highest she saw. No wonder her sister-in-law had walked Boston’s streets staring up at the buildings for months after she’d arrived.
Sophie had no idea a town could still look so . . . so primitive in this day and age. She saw no brick at all, only wood, even the sidewalks were wood, raised up a step from street level.
Along the sidewalk was the occasional barrel, a trough, or a hitching post. Wagons were parked and horses pawed at the road that bisected the town before stretching, it seemed, all the way to the mountains in the distance. And, of course, there were people—not a lot, but some sitting on benches in front of stores, some standing in doorways. And every one of them turned to look at Sophie.
She knew what she needed to find, either Fuller’s Hotel and Restaurant or Doc Cuthins’ surgery. She had to locate the people whom Charlotte considered friends and whom Sophie could ask for help. She dragged her trunk a few more yards, wishing she could set it down and walk briskly along unhampered, but she feared everything she’d brought would disappear in the blink of an eye.
With almost all the strength gone in her arms, she was attempting to heave the trunk up onto the sidewalk, perching one end on the wooden planks, when someone collided with her from the rear.
“Oomph,” she expelled all the air from her lungs as her stomach caught on the tilted edge of her trunk, then she slid slowly down the length of it back onto the dirt road, head and hands first. For a dreadful moment, she sprawled there, knowing her dress was up at her waist and her drawers, lavender-colored and lacy, were on view.
“Shit,” she heard before she could right herself. The man’s sentiment echoed what was in her head, though she was too much of a lady to voice it. And then, “Oh, Jesus, ma’am” as strong arms lifted her off the ground.
Sophie was not one to take offense, though she was getting sorely tired. Anything she was about to say, however, died on her lips at the spectacle of the man who now had hold of her.
To compose herself, she looked down to see what had happened to her things—her carpet bag was upended in the street—then she looked back to the man’s mud-splattered boots, up his worn, fitting blue jeans, and to what had once been a pale blue shirt now covered in grime.
Her gaze traveled higher to his equally grubby but ridiculously handsome face that had stopped her cold for a moment, with his burnished brown eyes, dark eye lashes, and inviting mouth that curved as though it tended to smile often.
He tipped his black brim to her, with a quick tap of his hand.
“Ma’am,” he said and gave her a brief smile that showed a dimple in his right cheek, his teeth looking all the whiter for appearing in the midst of his dirty face. Dirty and devastatingly attractive—a combination she hadn’t experienced before.
He was tall, clearly, for she had to look up to him, despite her own uncommon height, at least for a woman. And she realized he was still holding her arm with one hand, a strong capable hand. She felt his warmth right through the fabric of her dress and her mantle.
Letting herself feel his fingers gripping her for a moment more, she then shook him off by taking one step back.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Sophie looked at her hands, stretching them in front of her and wriggling her fingers. Everything seemed fine except for her white gloves being torn and filthy.
“I’m fine,” she said at last, seeing as he was watching her careful examination. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Me neither,” he offered. “I was talking to Dan and walking out of Drew’s.” He gestured to the feed store. A man standing in the doorway, wearing a heavy apron, chuckled.
“Yup, he was,” Dan confirmed. “Riley, don’t you know better than to leave a store ass first? Unless you’re trying to drum up future business for yourself.”
Riley laughed and looked back at Sophie, who tamped down the inappropriate notion that he had a very sweet, even sexy laugh and that his eyes sparkled wickedly when he was amused.
“Most women would have given me a tongue lashing for knocking them into the street and ruining their gloves.”
“As long as you don’t make a habit of it,” she said, glad that she hadn’t been in Boston, where she would have been run over by a brougham within seconds.
“I’ll try not to.” He treated her to a broad grin—a very sensual grin, too, Sophie mused. She must be very tired and lonely to keep having these incorrigible thoughts.
“Can I make it up to you?” he asked.
Without waiting for an answer, he lifted up her traveling trunk as though it weighed nothing and deposited it on the sidewalk in front of the feed store.
“Thank you. Can you tell me how to get to Fuller’s? Or better yet, to Doctor Cuthins?”
“Well, which do you need?” He crossed his arms. “A place to stay or a doctor?”
“Riley could give you either one,” Dan said, before turning and going back inside, as Riley dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
“Neither, really,” Sophie said, ignoring the man’s remark, “but Doctor Cuthins was supposed to meet me at the train, with his wife.”
“Maybe he had an emergency,” Riley said. “Though I’m sure Sarah would’ve come herself.”
“It could be they didn’t receive my last telegram with the correct date of my arrival,” Sophie suggested. “If you direct me to Fuller’s, I’ll—”
“I’ll do even better,” he said. “Follow me.” And with that, he heaved the trunk up onto his shoulder and started along the sidewalk, Sophie trailing behind.
“Are you kin? To Doc or Sarah, I mean.”
“No,” Sophie said, not wanting to elaborate on her personal life. It was bad enough that a strange man was carrying her luggage and had most likely seen her drawers.
“I didn’t get your name,” he said over his shoulder.
“No, you didn’t,” Sophie said, unused to the familiarity. He hesitated and she nearly ran into the back of him. Then he resumed his easy saunter.
“You’re not from here?”
“Obviously,” Sophie agreed.
“Hey, Riley,” came a voice from the next shop they passed, a barber standing in the doorway, arms crossed.
“Hey, Ely,” Riley said without stopping.
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