Deborah Camp (20 page)

“Would you like that?” Boone asked, squeezing her hand.

“Like it? I’d love it!” She smiled, happy with the thought of having such a memory. “Are you sure you want to take me?”

“Positive.” He stood up, and she stood with him. “Then it’s settled. Let me bring a buggy for you Saturday morning. We’ll shop, have some ice cream, and then dine at the hotel before I bring you back to your home.”

“That sounds nice,” she murmured, too full of the wonders he was proposing to speak above a whisper.

“Then I’ll leave you for now.” He dipped his head and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. His mustache tickled her skin, but it felt good and she smiled. “Good evening, Miss Cassie.”

“ ’Evening, Boone.” She slipped her hand from his and hid it behind her back. “Take care riding home.”

“I will, and thank you for agreeing to coming out with me Saturday. It makes me very happy.” He stepped off the porch and gathered up the dangling reins. As he swung himself into the saddle, he looked toward the flapping clothes on the line, then raised a pointing finger and frowned. “Is that a man’s shirt, Miss Cassie? What are you doing washing up a man’s shirt?”

She felt the blood leave her face, and her head seemed as light as air. Nothing came to her at first; then a lie fell like a leaf into her empty mind.

“It was Pa’s. I’ve been wearing it when I garden. It’s cool and comfortable.” She looked from the telltale shirt to Boone and held her breath until she sensed that he’d accepted the bone she’d thrown him.

He smiled broadly, swept his hat from the saddle horn, and fitted it onto his head at a dashing angle.

“I’m not a betting man, but if I was, I’d wager that you’re as cute as a button in that shirt, Miss Cassie.”

“Oh, how you go on,” she scoffed, waving a hand at him in a shooing motion but feeling pleased all the same. She heard herself giggle and was amazed that the girlish sound had come from her.

“I’ll be here around ten Saturday morning, Miss Cassie.”
He touched the side of his index finger to his hat brim in a jaunty farewell. “Until then.”

She waved and leaned against the porch support, watching him grow smaller until he disappeared around the bend. She sighed, relieved that he’d believed her lie and that he still wanted to take her to the Crescent Hotel dining room. Her thoughts scurried to the dress she’d tucked away. It had been among the ones Jewel had brought her, but it was too fancy to wear on the farm. Made of forest-green brushed cotton, it had tiny cream-colored roses scattered all over it. She sighed and closed her eyes, imagining herself in that dress at the Crescent Hotel.

“Oh, Miss Cassie!” The voice cut through her thoughts, and its mocking tone brought her up sharply. “You look as cute as a button!”

Cassie glared at Rook as he came toward her at a limber lope. “You been spying on me?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“I thought I’d better stay in the shadows until your beau left.”

“He ain’t—He’s not my beau, and you’re not the least bit funny!”

“Really? I just about busted out laughing listening to the two of you bill and coo like a couple of doves.” He stood at the foot of the porch steps and blinked his dark lashes coyly. “Oh, Miss Cassie! Might I ask a favor of you? Would you do me the honor of going into Eureka Springs with me? We could dine and dance, and then maybe you’d let me slip my hand under your dress and—”

“Stop it!” She surprised herself and him by reaching down and punching him hard in the shoulder. That it was his wounded shoulder bothered her not a whit. He sucked in his breath, grunted, and sent her a glare that was part fury and part injured pride. “I won’t let you sully Boone Rutledge’s good intentions,” she told him. “He’s a pillar of the community. You wouldn’t know a decent man if he sat on your face!”

“A decent man wouldn’t sit on my face,” he grumbled, massaging the shoulder she’d punched. “A pillar of the
community he may be, but he sure doesn’t know a damn thing about women.”

She folded her arms at her waist and stared imperiously down into his face. “And I s’pose you know all there is to know about womenfolk?”

“Not everything, but I know a sissy when I see one.” His smirk insulted her more than did his words.

“A sissy,” she repeated, longing to slap him senseless. “I’ll take a sissy over a finagler any day.” Her gaze raked him from head to toe. “When you lie with dogs you get fleas.”

“If you’ve been itching since you slept with me, it’s got nothing to do with fleas. Lovemaking is like candy. Didn’t you know that?” His voice dipped to a seductive growl. “Once you’ve tasted it, you can’t get enough of it. You crave it.” He mounted the first step and then the next until he was nose to nose with her. “You’re all high and mighty now that a banker’s son is after you. Too bad he’s not a real man, because, honey, you sure do need loving worse than any woman I’ve ever met.”

She didn’t like the sound of that and she backed away from him to the threshold leading into the cabin. He advanced, moving with a predatory gait that raised goose bumps along her arms and neck.

“Get that gleam out of your eye,” she cautioned, one hand slipping around the corner of the door frame. “? don’t want to tangle with you again.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his teeth flashing. “I think that’s exactly what you want.”

“Rook,” she said, drawing out the word in an escalating warning, but he kept coming.

His hands clamped down on her shoulders, and he pulled her to him with rough determination.

“Hand kissing is for young boys and old ladies,” he whispered fiercely, and his breath fanned her face. “This is how a man should kiss a woman.”

His mouth was bruising but didn’t hurt. He brought her even closer to him as his lips spread across hers and made her achingly aware of the difference between mannerly and manly. Cassie pressed her lips together, sealing herself off
from him, and his fingers bit into her shoulders in retaliation.

Groping inside the door frame, she touched the tip of the shotgun’s barrel. She grabbed it as she pushed against Rook’s chest with her other hand. With an economy of movement, she’d put enough space between her body and his to fit the tip of the shotgun’s barrel against his midsection.

“Now back off,” she told him, smiling smugly to herself at the shock on his face.

“Where the hell did that come from?” he asked, staring at the front bead halfway buried in his shirt. “And do you really think you need to use that against me?”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t, but you’re acting like an animal again, so I’ve got no choice but to treat you like one. Get your paws off me
now
.”

He removed his hands slowly. “Don’t pretend that you didn’t like it,” he said with a self-confident grin.

“Who’s pretending?” She lowered the shotgun and set it to one side. “Being kissed by a married man makes me feel used and dirty.” She wiped his kiss away with the back of her hand to emphasize her feeling of degradation and turned away from him. “Go get the rest of the wash off the line while I throw together some supper.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather shoot me?”

She ignored him and went to the cook stove, shoved another piece of wood into it, and put the pot of squirrel stew on the burner. He always had something smart to say, she thought as she stirred the leftover stew. Always had to have the last word; even if it was just a cuss word, it had to be his.

Cassie took soda biscuits from the bread safe and set them on the table. She’d baked shortbread cookies that morning, and those she put on the sideboard. By the time the stew was warmed up and the coffee brewed, Rook had come back inside with the clothes. He separated hers from his, folded them, and put his away while Cassie began eating her supper—without waiting for him to join her.

He sat opposite her, tried to stare a hole through her, then dipped some of the stew into his bowl.

“I see you waited for me like one dog waits for another,” he drawled, reaching for one of the hard biscuits. “Are you really going into town with him Saturday?”

“Sure am,” she said brightly. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ve always wanted to see inside the Crescent Hotel.”

“Are you planning on taking a room in the hotel with him Saturday night?”

She gave him a look as hard as the biscuit he was chewing. “I wish you’d get your mind out of the slop jar.”

“See, now there’s the difference between you and me—”

“Which difference? “There’s about a hundred of ’em.”

“I don’t think a man enjoying a woman is dirty,” he went on as if she hadn’t interrupted him. “I think it’s nature’s way.”

“Then why do you make it sound filthy?”

“I’m not doing that. You’re doing that in your own head.”

She nodded gravely. “Bullshit.”

He swallowed the biscuit before a grin dawned on his face. Cassie smiled back and a current of understanding passed between them.

“You’ve got a way of putting things right side up,” he said, still grinning.

“And you’ve got a way of knocking ’em upside down.” She reached for the platter of cookies and set them near him. “There. I baked those this morning to satisfy your sweet tooth.”

He took a bite of one and, after a moment, he winked at her. “Thanks, Cassie.”

She stared at her stew bowl, her cheeks blooming with pink color. “Wasn’t nothing.”

“Would you have pulled the trigger on me?”

Her blue-eyed gaze lifted and met his fleetingly. “I knew it wouldn’t come to that. I knew you’d back off.”

“Because we’re friends?” he said, hopefully.

She waited a few seconds before she let herself answer. “Yeah, I reckon so.”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to set straight the past few days …”

“Set something straight?
You
?” she asked, feigning shock.

He laughed softly, realizing that it was the closest she’d come to teasing him. His confession about being a died-in-the-wool bachelor tickled the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. Maybe being her friend was enough for now, he told himself. Maybe friendship was all he deserved. Just because Boone Rutledge made his skin crawl didn’t give him the right to shame Cassie for liking the dandy. Besides, Rutledge lived nearby and Cassie needed a man’s protection. But did it have to be Rutledge? Rook shuddered and shook his head in revulsion. God, what a waste of balls and body hair and all that was masculine!

He felt Cassie’s level gaze and he knew she was waiting for him to say something else. Looking into her bright blue eyes, he decided to be a saint instead of the sinner she expected him to be most times.

“You’re right,” he said, taking another cookie for himself. “I’d better leave well enough alone.”

Boone was prompt.

His shiny black buggy with brass fittings and a gray tufted seat pulled into the front yard Saturday morning at ten o’clock sharp. The fringe along the surrey’s bonnet fluttered and brushed across the top of Boone’s white hat as he stepped down from it. The roan horse was lathered, having trotted most of the way to keep to Boone’s timetable.

Cassie, looking for all the world like a fashionable lady of the manor, shooed Rook into the bedroom as Boone started up the porch steps. Rook obeyed Cassie’s silent command with reluctance, backing into the bedroom and closing the door on Cassie’s rosy-cheeked excitement. She’d never looked prettier, he thought as he peered through a crack in the door, but her ministrations hadn’t been for him. They’d been for the red-headed man who stood on the threshold, hat in hand, green eyes wide as half-dollars as they took in the vision of loveliness before him.

He’d damn well better tell her how sweet she looks this morning, Rook thought, drawing his lips back from his teeth in a sneer intended for the white-suited suitor.

“I’m ready,” Cassie said breathlessly as she clutched the tapestry purse Jewel had given her.

“Miss Cassie, you look mighty pretty.” Boone held his hat in front of him and his fingers walked nervously around its brim. “I’ve looked forward to this all week. Shall we go?” He stepped back and extended a polite hand toward the waiting surrey.

“Yes.” Cassie moved regally outside into the sunlight, which made her hair shine like pale gold around the stiff brim of her frilly bonnet. Her dress fit tightly at her waist, then flowed into a full, flounced skirt. Lace edged the neckline, cuffs, and hemline. She even moved differently; her hips swayed more than usual, her feet seemed lighter than air, and her chin was tipped up at a confident angle.

She extended one hand automatically to her escort, allowing him the honor of helping her into the buggy. Her glance at Boone was fleeting but admiring, for he looked dashing in his white suit and gray cravat. Seated on the tufted cushion, she felt like a princess. Although her stomach fluttered with nerves, outwardly she was a study in serenity as she placed her purse in her lap, folded her hands over it, and sat straight and ladylike beside the banker’s son.

Boone flicked the reins. Rook inched the door open just as the surrey moved out of his range of vision. After a few moments he went to the front of the cabin to watch the surrey move at a leisurely pace toward Eureka Springs.

Envy rose in him like bile, churning in his stomach and crowding his chest. He slammed the side of his fist against the window frame in a vain effort to release some of his ill will.

Leaning his forehead against his clenched fist, he closed his eyes and squeezed his eyes shut, but he could still see her in his mind—all pale blond hair and cornflower blue eyes. The past few days had been laden with sexual tension. Rook was sure that Cassie had felt it, although she might not have known why she was so jittery. She probably thought it had something to do with her upcoming Saturday outing, but Rook knew better. They couldn’t go back to mere friendship. They’d been lovers, and they couldn’t undo that.

The memory of her body beneath his shimmered through him, and he released a tortured groan. Never had a woman felt so good, he thought. Those thunder-laden hours with Cassie had been sheer heaven, but it hadn’t been enough. He wanted more. He couldn’t go back to dreaming and scheming and getting nothing but frustrated for his trouble.