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  “I don’t understand.”

  She glanced away. “I am recently widowed.”

  He surmised this was a device to send him off, because she’d already told him her husband’s passing was a year ago and here he was, a man of wealth begging her to go out with him. It was obvious from the cracked plaster above their heads and the frayed carpet that money was not rolling into this establishment.

  Why, then?

  Her uneasy shifting and downturned face all spoke of shame. Why would she no longer meet his eyes?

  He reached for her instinctively, his fingers encircling her upper arm as he dragged her forward.

  “It was that damned kiss.”

  She stared up at him in horror, as if he’d come upon her in her bath. Her beautiful mouth dropped open as she gasped.

  “A gentleman would not mention it.”

  “If you know my name, you know I’m no gentleman.”

  “Is that why you came, because you recognized me? Did you assume I’d just go with you?” She tugged away and he released her, but his attention stayed focused on her full lips. They were soft, pink and damp. But in the alley, they’d been swollen from his kisses and her breathing had come in soft, needy pants.

  Her words filtered through his desire. What had she done that she thought he would know her?

  “Who are you?”

  “My full name is Mrs. Lawrence Wells. My late husband was a land speculator.”

  The name clicked as he recalled the events of last April. Yes, he knew the scoundrel, knew the miner who shot Luke Wells and who was later hanged for it. He recalled accounts of the child-bride in the newspaper and articles detailing the lavish extravagance of their short marriage. What would the miners think of her if they knew? His plans teetered on unsteady ground.

  Her husband had been a rascal and a thief. Sam never met the beautiful young bride. But he recalled she was favorite fodder for the newspapers. Femme fatale, gold digger, the keen-eyed opportunist, the papers had painted her black. She had married a man for his wealth and then lost it all. She was beautiful enough to match the descriptions.

  He glanced at the shabby house. She lived with her aunt and had a blind sister. The paper never mentioned that and now he wondered if she had married a scoundrel out of ambition or need. If it was ambition, she surely would have found a replacement for she had everything necessary to take her pick of the bucks.

  Sam stepped back. He had no intention of being the second husband. Hell, he had no intention of being a first husband. Trouble was, he still wanted her.

  He hesitated, glancing to the parlor. Phoebe was now tucked tight against her aunt’s side, and the aunt stared at him as if he were a stick of lit dynamite.

  He turned back to Kate. She extended his hat again, glancing up. Was that regret in her eyes?

  “Goodbye, Mr. Pickett.”

  To be seen with this woman was to start tongues wagging. And while he actually enjoyed scandals, he did not enjoy playing the fool. He would appear to be exactly what he was, a man smitten by a woman who had intentions on his fortune. He accepted his hat.

  A terrible thought crossed his mind, casting a long shadow. “Were you in on it?”

  He hoped to never see such a look of betrayal again. Kate went pale. Her expression changed from regret to one of physical pain. The urge to embrace her was irresistible, but as he opened his arms she stepped back with the quickness of a hare. Her eyes glistened and he realized she was about to cry. Then she pressed her lips tight. Her nostrils flared in a look that bellowed of impotent rage.

  She opened the door and stood aside, refusing to look at him. He wasn’t aware of stepping out, but did notice the rush of air as she closed the door firmly in his face and bent the brim of his new Stetson.

  Sam stomped down the front steps as he reshaped his hat, wondering why he felt guilty for upsetting her. He didn’t get far.

  At the street, he turned back toward house. Why was he walking away? She had a reputation, but so did he. And there were ways around looking like a fool. One obvious one came to mind. True, he’d never had one before, but really, who better than Kate Wells? He couldn’t see how such an arrangement would damage her reputation much. Besides, he was fairly certain one night with her would not be enough.

  He headed back up the steps and knocked. Kate threw open the door, glaring daggers. There was his hellion.

  He smiled. “Will you at least step out onto the porch so I may have a private word?”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  Her aunt appeared in the hallway.

  Kate glanced back. “It’s all right, Auntie.”

  She stepped over the threshold and closed the door, then filled her lungs with air, as if trying to calm herself, but only managed to get him to stare at her amble bosom.

  What she could do to a man in a low-cut gown. It occurred to him, briefly that her first husband might have had similar thoughts when he used her to attract investors, but he pushed it aside. He was trying to build a railroad, not line his pockets through fraud.

  “I have a business proposition for you.”

  Kate scowled.

  “I need a woman—”

  “I suggest you try the docks.”

  Now Sam was scowling. “You going to let me finish?”

  “My apologies. It is not my custom to sit idle while I am insulted.”

  He drew a breath and held it, then spoke his mind, preparing to be kicked down the stairs.

  “Perhaps it is an insult, but it’s also a business proposal and I’d like you to hear it just the same.”

  She lifted her chin, increasing her haughty look. She still only reached his shoulder so her efforts to look down her nose failed. The glitter of defiance only made him want to kiss her more.

  “I want to make you my mistress.”

  Chapter Four

  K ate’s head dropped a moment and then she met his eyes. The anger was now replaced with a look of such sorrow he took a step in her direction, intent on gathering her up in his arms.

  She retreated and glanced to the parlor window some ten feet away to see her aunt standing guard like an old bulldog.

  Her voice was a mere whisper. “I am not surprised you would make such assumptions about me, considering my past. But I now live a respectable life. I sew and clean and help my family run this house.”

  “A woman like you shouldn’t be scrubbing floors.”

  She cocked her head. “It’s honest work.”

  “Long way from where you were. I could help you with that.”

  “I have no doubt. But I have something now that you cannot buy from me, Mr. Pickett.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I’m speaking of my independence. It was not until it was lost that I discovered how dearly I missed my liberty. I do not plan to be so careless again. Good day.”

  He leaned forward, bringing his mouth to her ear. “You’re not rid of me. Something happened back there. You felt it, same as me.”

  She inched back to peer up at him.

  “I’ll see to your wardrobe, jewelry and a place to stay, with servants.”

  Her brow quirked. “I have a place to stay—my home.”

  He smiled, seeing he’d caught her interest. “I can’t very well visit you here.”

  “I should hope not.”

  In the past his persistence had served him well. In his mind, this was no different. He wanted her. It was only left for them to strike a bargain. “I need you, Kate. Lady as pretty as you could be a real help to me up at Dutch Flats.”

  “What?”

  “I’m heading there to wrangle up investors for the railroad. Like to have you along when I tell them how much the railroad will do for them.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him and he felt the thin ice beneath his feet cracking.

  “Why?”

  “Miners love a pretty girl. You’d keep their interest while we sell stock.”

  “And share your bed.”

  He smiled
, letting his grasp soften as he drew his hand away in a long caress.

  He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “We’d be good together, you and I. I can feel it.”

  Kate drew back and looked speculatively at him. How did he convey how much he wanted her without sounding like a madman?

  Kate glanced toward the window to see her aunt’s worried face distorted by the glass. Something about this man did make her heart race. She’d admit that much. And their kiss had done things to her, secret, shameful, wonderful things. But she was no longer a girl. She knew exactly what he wanted from her and the reality squeezed her pounding heart and chilled her blood.

  He’d not have her. Why was she even tempted?

  He leaned in and she stood her ground, trying to control her racing heart. The man exuded sex. She looked away in an effort to escape the fire in his eyes only to become more aware of his enticing scent.

  His voice was low and full of resignation. “I usually get what I want.”

  How could he know it was the wrong thing to say? He had inadvertently given her the reminder she needed. She’d tolerate no more bullies in her life. She stepped back.

  “I am so sorry to disappoint. But you shall not have me. Good day, sir.” She did not succeed in escaping him for he captured her hand.

  “Thing of it is, I think you want it, too. I’m just more honest about it.”

  “I fear I have somehow misled you in some way. I am not that sort.”

  “Every living, breathing person on this earth is that sort.”

  She made no response to that.

  “Am I so hard on the eye?”

  She reclaimed possession of her hand. “No, Mr. Pickett, quite the opposite. You’re handsome as sin and quite the charmer. Add that to your money and I’d be a fool to refuse. But you see I have already made this mistake once. You are exactly the kind of man I have strived to avoid since my husband’s timely death.”

  “You mean untimely.”

  “Do I?”

  That stopped him. She smiled and slipped inside.

  Sam’s hand on the knob kept her from shutting the door on him once more. “I’ll be leaving day after tomorrow. If you change your mind, send word or come round to my place on I Street.”

  “Remove your hand, please,” she said, her voice as gentle as a lamb but her eyes flashing fire.

  Damn, he wanted her.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  This time he leaned back to preserve his hat brim, but she only closed the door with a firm click.

  He smiled at her through the glass and damned if she didn’t smile back. It was the smile of a house cat smirking at a stray who was yowling at her from the alley but could not get in. The question was: Would she come out and play?

  As he headed back to his offices, Sam couldn’t stop thinking of Kate. She was so damn pretty, beautiful really with a quality of daring he’d never seen in a woman. She had entered an alley alone to help a stranger and had just slammed her door on one of the wealthiest men in the city. He shook his head in bewilderment. Her capacity for spitting in the eye of the devil himself was arousing as hell. But she was having no part of him.

  Then why had she kissed him as if she were dying for him?

  He reviewed his other options and found fault with each female who came to mind. He had his heart set on Kate. He wasn’t through yet.

  He walked unseeing until he heard someone calling his name.

  He turned to find Cole trotting across the street, dressed like a proper businessman right down to the little black tie he had knotted at the neck of his pristine white shirt.

  “I liked you better as a mule skinner,” muttered Sam.

  “And I liked you better when you could tell time.”

  “What?” Sam reached for the gold pocket watch Cole had given him.

  “You promised to come to the planning meeting for the railroad. You said you’d be there.”

  “When was it?” He checked the open watch face, trying to understand where the afternoon had gone.

  “Two hours ago.”

  He met his friend’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  “You are that, more and more often. Let me guess, a woman, again?”

  “The woman.”

  Cole guided him toward a restaurant in the Sterling Hotel, just one block away. “Come on, tell me on the way. I’m meeting Bridget for dinner. Join us.”

  Sam dug his heels in. “The kids?”

  “She doesn’t generally leave them lying about since they tend to set things on fire.”

  “Charming. I’ll walk you there.”

  “But you won’t come in.”

  “Kids make me itch worse than chiggers.”

  Cole started walking and Sam had to hurry to catch up.

  “So you found your little sure-shot?”

  Sam scowled and then told Cole everything. When he finished they were no longer walking, but standing face-to-face on the street corner.

  Cole pushed back his hat and gave a low whistle.

  “Well, say something,” said Sam.

  “You say she has a family? I’m shocked you even crossed the threshold. That’s not like you.”

  “You didn’t see her.”

  “That’s true, but she actually slammed the door in your face?”

  Sam removed his hat and showed Cole the dented brim. Cole winced.

  “You know about her?” asked Sam.

  “I read the papers.”

  “Tell me what you recall.”

  Cole adjusted his tie. “Well, she was on the young side to be married. The papers called her ‘Baby Kate’ and he dressed her up like a living doll and showed her off. You had your head in a mine shaft about then, so you might not have seen her. But I did. She was stunning. I know you met her husband. He approached you, about a land deal. Didn’t he?”

  “Stank to high heaven. I knew he never owned that land. Selling fake deeds and leaving others to sort out the details. Small wonder Keiler put a bullet between his eyes.”

  “Papers called her a gold digger and when the truth of her husband’s dealings came to light, they said she was in on it. Never proved in a court, but I guess she found out who her friends were.”

  Sam thought of the shabby little boardinghouse. Kate Well’s rise and fall had been stellar. Sam knew the same could happen to him. Fortunes were easily won and lost here in the land of milk and honey. He felt the mountains’ chill touch him again. Money was all the insulation he had. He needed it to ward off the nightmares that dogged him even now.

  They reached the restaurant and Sam drew to a halt.

  “You’ll come in to say hello,” insisted Cole.

  Hello would turn into “have a drink” and then “order something.” Sam ground his heel into the plank sidewalk before the hotel. Lately, more and more, Cole had been giving him that disappointed look.

  He liked Bridget. It was just that he never knew how to behave. He had never been part of a family and so their intimate dealings made him nervous, as if he were peeking through a spy hole.

  “I gotta go.”

  “Why does the sight of a baby send you into full retreat?” asked Cole.

  Sam ignored him. “I’m planning to go up to Dutch Flats day after tomorrow. Drum up some investors and check on the trouble you mentioned.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  “I think I’ll move in with you two. Free up another room for a new boarder,” said Ella, her voice a little too casual.

  Kate’s internal compass began to spin. Turning away from the dough she was kneading, she faced her aunt. “Is Mrs. Larson still in arrears?”

  Her aunt’s gaze didn’t meet Kate’s eyes. “I’m sure the check will arrive any day.”

  “Auntie, if she can’t pay, she can’t stay.”

  “Well, I won’t just put her out. She has no one, not one soul in the world.” Her aunt Ella had a habit of gathering strays and people without means. She collected them the way some people c
ollected sea shells.

  “She has a son. Why can’t she move in with him?”

  Phoebe rested her knitting on her lap. “Because his wife hates her. And her son, Arthur, hasn’t sent her any money in over a month. She cried today after the post. I heard her.”

  Kate knew exactly how she felt. She turned to her aunt. “But you had enough for the mortgage this month, with what I gave you?”

  Her aunt glanced away. “Nearly.”

  The creeping unease grew. This crawling battle to get by seemed more treacherous then darting into an alley after dark. Everything was plain there, the villains, victims and heroes, all taken in at a glance. Kate’s world was much more unclear. Was her aunt at fault for taking in poor tenants, or the tenants for not paying on time or their sons for not sending the money with which to pay? Was it her fault for her poor choice of a husband, or her husband’s for being a thief?

  People imposed on Ella because of her kind heart and weren’t Kate and her sister just another imposition? They were, after all, two more strays her aunt could not turn away.

  “How short are we?” asked Kate, the dough suddenly forgotten.

  “Oh, you’re too young to worry over such things. I’m sure we’ll manage if I move in with the two of you and we get another boarder.”

  “But let me pick him this time, Auntie, please.” Kate’s tone held poorly concealed frustration.

  The only reliable resident was Mr. Porto, who paid on time and in full. Kate had found him. Mrs. Guthrie, her aunt’s choice, generally ran a month arrears and Larson, well, she was even more hopeless than the three of them.

  Kate’s heart broke a little more. Perhaps she was being selfish. That morning Sam had made a proposal that would solve their financial worries.

  No. Not again. She would not allow herself to be displayed on the arm of a rich, brutal man as if she were some trinket.

  The last time she found herself in such dire straits she had been just sixteen and alone, with her sister to look after. Only fourteen short hours had passed between the fever and her mother’s passing from cholera. Kate had not even had the coin to bury her. But Luke had. And he’d been interested, waiting only until after the funeral to make his intentions known. Stupidly, she had insisted on marriage, not realizing that a wife was trapped by her vows.