Rush of Love (3 page)

“What about when you don’t have family?” she asked.

He didn’t have an answer. Too much had happened in such a short time, so he did the only thing he was clear about. He’d wanted to kiss her since the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

He moved slowly, wanting to give her enough time to turn away if she wished to do so. Opal didn’t move, merely waited, anticipation apparent in her eyes.

Sam tipped his head towards hers, and their lips gently touched. A soft sigh was the only sound as his lips brushed hers. Her mouth was the sweetest thing he had ever touched or felt. He ran his tongue along the seam. He wanted to taste the vanilla he’d smelled earlier. He pulled her closer.

This was a bad idea, but it felt so right. So good. Sam wanted her to be his, but most of his fortune was gone. What else did he have to offer her? He tried to push the thoughts aside and enjoy the moment. His hand wove through her damp hair. His head was swimming, but he knew it wasn’t from his injuries.
 
It was the woman in his arms.

Opal’s hand kneaded the bare flesh of his bicep making Sam draw in a quick breath. What was he thinking they were going to do? This was a respectable woman, but respectable thoughts were the last thing on his mind at the moment.

His gaze swept over her heated cheeks and down her dress front. The thin worn fabric did nothing to hide her hardened nipples. Sam kissed her as his finger traced a delicate pattern over one breast. He waited for her protest, but she said nothing. When she emitted a small groan against his mouth, he was lost.

Sam slanted his mouth and took the kiss deeper. Shifting his hand which still rested on the back of her head, he pulled her until her body fit against his. There was no hiding the fact that he was stiff as a rail, the length of him throbbed with each beat of his heart. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted Opal at this moment.

He walked her back a few steps and they tumbled onto the bed making it protest under their combined weight. Sam brushed fingers down her neck as he kissed a trail to the edge of lace on her dress. With a thumb and forefinger he took the fabric and pulled it lower to take the tight bud between his lips. His teeth nipped, his tongue flicked, until the delicate flesh was a tight pebble. Opal let out a gasping little moan that sent a stab of desire through him.

He raised his head to look in her eyes. She watched him; her breath came in rapid little pants.

“I dreamt of you while I slept,” he admitted, nuzzling her neck.

“You did?” she asked, her green eyes luminous in the dim light.

“Yes, I did. I dreamed I made love to you,” Sam whispered, and gently took her mouth in another kiss. “I want you Opal. Stay with me. Here. Now.” He edged a hand under her skirt and up her stocking clad legs until he touched her silky thigh. Then higher. The sweet indent of her was damp with desire.
For him.
When he stroked her through her petticoat, a cry of shocked pleasure ripped from her throat. She came off the bed and clutched his shoulders as she shuddered her release.

Damn.
She was so responsive to his touch, it made every inch of him feel like a man.
 

Sam rose on his knees and quickly began to roll her stockings off her legs. There would be time later to learn all the ways she liked to be touched, but now his body ached to be buried inside her. He’d been with a few girls back home, a quick tumble in the hay, but none who made him like he was now. Insane and desperate.

None of them were Opal.

He undid the ties down the front of her dress and spread the front. Her skin was so pale, he saw the veins beneath.
Beautiful.
He slipped a hand beneath her petticoat and curved his fingers over her breast. He loved the weight and amazing soft feel of it in his hands. He dropped his head to taste her again.

There was a loud rap on the door and they both jumped a foot.

“Don’t answer it,” he said, his voice husky even to his own ears.

“We shouldn’t… I can’t…. I have to. Stop,” Opal stuttered, as her cheeks flushed. She wiggled out from under him, stood, and retied her dress. She reached for her shawl and wound it snug over her shoulders.

Sam groaned, tipped his head back, and let a curse slip out toward the ceiling. He grabbed a wool blanket off the side of the bed and yanked it over his lap. He definitely wasn’t decent for mixed company.

A hunched old man filled the open doorway as she opened it. His graveled voice sounded like tree bark covered his vocal cords. “I just heard you lost your job at the bank. I need you out of this room by tonight.”

“But Mr. Rason, I have nowhere to go.”

Rason
looked over Opal’s shoulder at him, and made a
tsking
noise of disproval.
 
“Looks like you got a man. Have him take care of you. Another reason for you to be out. You know the house rules. I ain’t running a brothel here.”

“He was hurt. I was only taking care of him. The doctor said he-”

“Do I look like I care?” He cut her off. “Rules are rules. Out by tonight or I call the police.”

Opal’s head dropped, she nodded and shut the door. She stood with her back to Sam, her hear hung in defeat.

“You lost your job at the bank?” he asked.

When she turned there was the shimmer of tears in her eyes, but she wasn’t crying. She tipped her chin higher. “The doctor told me I had to keep a close eye on you. What else could I do?”

“Opal.” He took a step closer, but she held up a hand.

“Don’t give me pity. It was my decision. You owe me nothing.”

“Things will work out. I’ll find more gold. Everything will be fine.”

She forced a smile and his heart broke.

“I guess you were right after all, money is the most important thing,” she said, her voice soft.

“I’m going to go down the hall to the privy. When I get back, we can talk about what I can do to help.”

Sam grabbed his shirt and coat off the screen and rushed out the door.

He thought he heard her say, “There’s nothing you can.”

She was wrong. He’d do something. He’d made the biggest mistake of his life being so cocky. He’d wanted that large roll of cash to flash around. Money makes the man. And now most of it was gone.
Stupid
.

How did Opal fit into this plan of going back to Alaska and look for more gold? This was even more concrete in his mind now. He wasn’t ready for a wife. What could he give her? What about the big house overlooking the water? But what they’d just shared was special. Of course, he wanted to make love to her, but it was more than that.

He splashed water over his face and peered into the fogged mirror over the basin. A bruise ringed his eye, and purple darkened his cheekbone. He’d first see how much money he’d left in the safe. It should have been around five… no eight thousand dollars. He would pay for Opal’s room until he traveled and returned again from Alaska. Caution would guide his decisions this time.

She’d wait for him. She’d understand.

Now that he had a plan there was a light spring in his step as he strode down the hall. He unfastened the latch and stepped through to her room.

That’s odd
. Sam opened his mouth to call he name, when he saw the wardrobe open and cleared of clothes.

He swore.

Opal was gone.

Chapter 4

A strand of Opal’s hair slipped free from the tightly woven bun. She blew the curl from her face and dipped her hands back in the near scalding water. The red, raw skin of her knuckles burned. She hissed air between her teeth. She would survive. Aldo, the kitchen’s head cook, said her hands would toughen up after a few weeks. It would be better

Her work as a dishwasher at the Merchant Café was far from easy, but, she was grateful she’d found work. The owner gave her a room in the basement of the café for a dollar a week. At least it was dry, not too musty, and she only saw a few rats in the time she’d slept there.

She didn’t know what she was thinking when she ran out on Sam. It had just all come to a head. She didn’t need any more mess on her plate. Her decision had nothing to do with his lack of money, and everything to do with what he’d said. He’d done everything but shake her by the shoulders to convince her he wasn’t ready to settle down.

It was all for the best.

She would not let her heart be crushed by a man who’d be off to the Klondike, as much as he couldn’t commit to any future with her, and that probably wouldn’t be the end of it. He would leave her behind, alone, again and again. At the moment she didn’t have ten pennies to her name, but she had her dignity. She wouldn’t hold out for empty promises, and pine for a man who may never return. Unlike her mother, she wouldn’t compete with a man’s lust for gold.

Sam could have his gold, but he couldn’t have her.

Memories of Sam’s blue eyes sparkling with life flashed through her mind. She loved the way they crinkled at the corners in tiny laugh lines. She wondered what he would look like as he grew older.

 
The night he courted her and took her to dinner was magical. She’d hold the memories close to her heart. Dining in the main hall of the café with its carved bar and intricate tin ceiling, she’d felt like a queen. She would never guess in a week’s time, she’d be in the same café’s kitchen scouring dirty dishes.

She closed her eyes, soaped another dish, and tried to piece together every word Sam said that night. What had the flowers he’d brought that night felt like? Smooth like satin of the ribbon she wore in her hair as a child. Opal had so few things which were hers alone. The flowers were special and had been left behind, trampled in the alley.

A ruckus erupted on the other side of the kitchen. The cook waved his cleaver and yelled at a man, “Getta out!”

Opal spun to face the noise. Her heart sank. “Sam?” she said, her voice barley a whisper.

 
He strode to her and stopped a foot away. “We need to talk.” He glanced over his shoulder at the cook who burned him with a scathing look. Sam’s grey wool coat and black Stetson was mottled from rain. “Is there anywhere,
quiet
, we can go?”

Opal steeled her back against the sink. “You need to leave. I… I can’t take a chance of losing this job too. I won’t get another chance. I’ll be out in the street.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.” He touched her hand. “All of this is my fault.”

“Your fault? I don’t need your pity. I can handle things on my own.” She paused and put a hand to her hip. “I’m surprised you are still in town. I expected you’d be gone back to Alaska by now.”

“I haven’t left. Things changed. That’s why we need to talk. Please, five minutes.”

She tugged at her drenched apron to straighten it over her chest. She was sure she looked a fright, though Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“Cinque minuti,”
five minutes
, Opal said in Italian to the cook and held up fingers. Aldo owed her a favor, his little boy took ill the day before and she’d done all the pre-preparation of the food for the evening rush. He waved her toward the back door and frowned at Sam.

Hinges on the wood door creaked and stray cats scattered into the recessed darkened corners as Sam followed her into the alley.

Opal turned on him. “Why
did
you come back?”

“I told you,” there was a tone of exasperation in his voice, “I haven’t gone anywhere.”