Cactus Flower (6 page)

      
Trust
a man. On the verge of panic, Eulalie spoke sharply. “That’s not
what I meant, and you know it. My body is not for sale, Mr. Taggart.
Unhand me.” His warm breath on her bare skin was about to send her
over the edge. For the briefest second, Eulalie wished she could just
give in to the sensation; to give herself, however briefly, to the keeping
of this strong, warm, protective male.

      
By
this time in her life, however, Eulalie knew such delicious feelings
were only transitory—and in her case, they might well be deadly. No
one would ever rescue her. She was on her own. She and Patsy.

      
It
took an almost superhuman effort, but she slipped out of Nick’s embrace,
knelt, and scooped up her fallen corset. Then, her fingers trembling,
she pulled it on again and dared turn and peer at Nick.

      
Mercy,
he was something to look at. Tall and broad-shouldered, his torso tapered
to a slim waist and narrow hips. The bulge in his trousers was huge,
as were the massive, muscular legs supporting the rest of him. Eulalie
would like to see him naked. And aroused. As beautiful and warmhearted
as Edward had been, he’d also been kind of scrawny. As purely as Eulalie
had loved Edward all those years ago, she still wouldn’t mind seeing
Nick Taggart naked.

      
Which
was nothing to the purpose. “May I depend on you not to overstep the
bounds of propriety again, Mr. Taggart?” She smiled at him; a cool,
aloof smile that cost her virtually all of her remaining composure.

      
“I
can pay you.” Nick looked as though the words had been pulled from
him against his will and better judgment.

      
Eulalie
shut her eyes for a split second. If only life were as simple as that.
“My body is not for sale,” she repeated softly, wishing things could
be different, wishing she’d never had to leave New York, much less
Chicago.

      
He
watched her for a while longer, his eyes narrow, an expression on his
face that Eulalie couldn’t quite define. She lifted her chin defiantly.
“And what’s the matter with you, Mr. Taggart?” In truth, Eulalie
knew exactly how he felt—both voluptuous and resentful—because she
felt the same way about him.

      
“I
don’t like being teased, Miss Gibb,” he said at last.

      
Oddly
enough, Eulalie was a little ashamed of herself. She, who had planned
her campaign ruthlessly, refusing to consider the feelings of anyone
in the universe save herself and Patsy—and for good reason—felt
guilty about having tempted Nick Taggart. She wouldn’t let on.

      
“I’m
sorry you feel that I teased you, Mr. Taggart. I was at fault for setting
out the wrong corset, although it was an oversight.”

      
“You
were just trying to get me stirred up.”

      
She
didn’t want to fight about it. He was right, and she was right, and
they were both utterly wrong. “If you’d care to leave the room for
a moment, I can fetch my other corset, fasten it myself, and we can
avoid this discussion. I need to get some food in me, or I’m going
to get a headache or faint, or both.”

      
Nick
huffed once. He still looked both angry and frustrated, but Eulalie
sensed any danger was over for the time being. She had a more desperate
feeling, however, that danger to herself and to her self-control would
never be any farther away than Nick Taggart.

      
“Turn
around,” he said again. “I’ll lace you up.”

      
She
eyed him for another moment or two, trying to judge if he meant it.
She decided he did, turned around, and he laced up her corset. Her reaction
to his touch still shocked her, but she didn’t show it.

      
“There.
Go get dressed. I’ll wait here. Then I’ll walk you to the chophouse
down the street. Vern stays open late.”

      
She
could tell he was still unhappy, even angry, and didn’t know whether
to be glad of it or not. “Thank you, Mr. Taggart.”

* * * * *

      
Nick
wasn’t accustomed to being outmaneuvered by a woman. Not as an adult,
he wasn’t. When he was a kid, he’d had no choice but to put up with
their constant demands, fainting fits, and feigned helplessness. They’d
nearly driven him crazy.

      
But
he wasn’t a kid any longer, and he didn’t like this feeling of having
been manipulated one little bit. The women in his adult life had been
simple, often foolish, creatures, whom he could twist around his little
finger with ease. He’d always been able to make females do what he
wanted with them, which was why he only consorted with a certain type.
No sense ruining virgins. Not only was it a dastardly thing to be doing,
but it invariably got a fellow in trouble.

      
Not
that he was ever mean to a woman. Hell, he had half the ladies in Rio
Peñasco, married and unmarried, in love with him because he was always
fixing things for them and so forth. But Nick never, ever, let himself
get tangled up with one of them. He’d learned about women the hard
way.

      
Since
he’d grown up he’d never, not once, been manipulated by a female—until
tonight, when he’d had the misfortune to become involved with Miss
Eulalie Gibb, damn her soul to perdition. But that body. And that sassy
way she had. He couldn’t have resisted if all the angels in heaven
had held him back when she turned around and he saw all that bare skin.
She was as smooth as silk. And her breasts … Well, Nick wished he
could stop thinking about them, was all.

      
His
mood was as black as the night sky as he walked next to her down the
dusty boardwalk to Vernon’s Place. His thin gaze held everyone they
met at a distance. Not that they met many people. Thanks to Dooley’s
worries about riots breaking out in the Opera House, there was a back
door to the establishment. That’s the one Nick had led Eulalie through
when they’d exited. Nick didn’t want to even try to imagine what
might have happened if they’d walked out through the saloon itself.
All the men Miss Gibb had stirred up with her performance wouldn’t
think twice about attacking her—or of shooting him to get at her.

      
Hell,
and here he’d thought he was merely doing Dooley a favor by offering
to protect her tonight. Dammit all, now Nick was the one needing protection—and
from Miss Eulalie Gibb.

      
It
wasn’t fair, and Nick hated it. Not only was he as titillated as a
bull pastured next to a meadow full of nubile young cows, but he had
no way to escape. Eulalie Gibb wouldn’t allow him into her bed, and
he was committed to guarding her tonight. That meant he couldn’t even
relieve his lust with Violet.

      
“You’re
frowning, Mr. Taggart. Is something the matter?”

      
Nick
looked down at Eulalie. She’d taken that silly feather out of her
hair, and now her hair was piled up in a soft plop, as if she were a
demure, maidenly schoolmarm. If he hadn’t seen and felt her for himself,
he’d never guess what alluring treasures lay hidden under that high-necked,
prissy dress she wore. Lordy, he’d never realized how tempting clothes
could be until now. At this moment he had a violent urge to pick her
up off the boardwalk, take her home, and rip that dress right off of
her.

      
“Oh,
no. Nothing’s the matter. I’m used to females flaunting their naked
selves in front of me and then refusing to let me pay for what they’re
flaunting. Happens all the time. I’m fine. Just fine.”

      
“I
don’t believe that for a minute.”

      
“Why
not?”

      
“I
have a difficult time imagining that you don’t usually get what you
go after.”

      
He
squinted at her, wondering if she was making a play for him. If she
was, why the hell hadn’t she accepted his money? “Yeah? Well, I
didn’t get what I went after tonight, did I? Even after it was displayed
in front of me, all ripe and ready for the picking.”

      
She
gazed up at him, a wry expression on her face. “That’s not really
fair, Mr. Taggart. I wasn’t flaunting myself. I’d set out the wrong
corset, is all.”

      
“Sure
it is.”

      
“It’s
the truth.”

      
“Like
hell.”

      
They
walked in silence for another few moments. Nick gazed up at the sky.
The wind had died down when the sun set, which it generally did this
time of year. The stars looked like tiny points of light pricking the
darkness of the heavens, and they twinkled up a storm. Sometimes Nick
liked to ride out onto the plains and just sit on his horse and watch
the stars twinkle. Tonight he wished he could crawl into bed, pull a
blanket over his head, and hide away from those damned stars and everything
else. They looked too blasted happy to him in his present state.

      
“I’m
truly sorry, Mr. Taggart,” Eulalie said after Nick had almost forgotten
what they’d been talking about. “It wasn’t fair of me to tempt
you, I suppose.”

      
“You
suppose?” All of Nick’s grievances against this woman stomped back
into his head. “It seems to me I’ve been pretty nice to you today,
Miss Gibb. I hauled my uncle away from you, kept Lloyd from attacking
you right there in the saloon, prevented a riot from breaking out when
Dooley told the boys you weren’t for sale, offered to protect you
all night long, and I’m now taking you to supper. What do you mean,
you
suppose
it wasn’t fair of you to tempt me? You’re blasted
right, it wasn’t fair, and you know it.”

      
She
didn’t speak again for a moment. When she did, she sounded almost
contrite. “Perhaps, after we’ve eaten and we get back to the Opera
House, you can—ah—visit one of the other girls who work there. That
one named Violet seems to be quite pleasant, and she’s very pretty.”

      
“Violet’s
all right. At least she’s nice, unlike some females I’ve met recently.
But I told Dooley I’d watch out for you, and that’s what I aim to
do.”

      
“I
can take care of—”

      
“Yeah,
I know. You can take care of yourself. Well, maybe you can and maybe
you can’t, but I promised, and I don’t go back on my word.”

      
“That’s
very good of you.”

      
He
couldn’t tell for sure, but he suspected she was being sarcastic.
“You’re really something, you know that, Miss Gibb?”

      
She
sighed. “I’m sure you have every reason to think so, Mr. Taggart.”

      
“You’re
right. I do.”

      
They’d
reached Vernon’s by this time. Nick opened the door and stood aside
so she could enter the chophouse in front of him. She might not like
him, and he might not like her, but Nick wasn’t going to lower his
standards because of their mutual dislike. He was a polite man, dammit,
and that was that.

      
She
swept past him like a queen, then stopped and looked around. Vernon’s
Place wasn’t much; just a one-room eating joint in the territory that
served steaks and beans and biscuits, but it was open, and she’d said
she was hungry.

      
A
few other men sat at the counter. Nick took a table in a far corner
where he had a view of the whole room. He wasn’t going to take any
chances where Miss Eulalie Gibb was concerned. He pulled out a chair
“Sit here, Miss Gibb. I’ll take the chair over there, with my back
against the wall, so I can watch the front door and the room.”

      
She
sat. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

      
He
glowered at her. “Yes. I do.”

      
“Very
well.” Meek as a kitten, she settled her bottom onto a chair.

      
Nick
had seen that lush bottom of hers in its skimpy costume, and he wished
he could stop thinking about what he’d like to do with it. He sat,
too, feeling abused and out of sorts, and set his hat on the chair next
to him. Then he pulled out his revolver and laid it beside his knife
and fork.

      
Eulalie
eyed it curiously. “Do you always do that, Mr. Taggart? Is Rio Peñasco
really so rough a place?”

      
He
eyed her back, hard. “Not usually. Not in the daytime. And not when
the boys haven’t been teased to busting their britches by a new saloon
singer.”

      
She
blinked, evidently startled by his plain speaking. “Oh. I see. I shall
keep that in mind.”

      
“Do
that.”

      
Vernon
came over to them in his dirty apron. Vern was a nice-enough fellow,
but he didn’t bother to fix himself up much. He had a stubble on his
chin that looked itchy to Nick, and he had a dirty dishtowel draped
over his arm.

      
“Howdy,
Nick.” Vernon glanced at Eulalie Gibb with patent appreciation. That’s
only because he didn’t know her yet, Nick thought bitterly.

      
“Howdy,
Vern. This here’s Miss Eulalie Gibb. Dooley’s hired her to sing
at his place.”

      
Vernon’s
eyebrows lifted. “You? You’re the one everybody’s been talkin’
about?”

      
Eulalie
smiled up at the restaurateur as if she were a great lady and he one
of her lackeys. “I didn’t know anyone had been talking.” Her voice
was cultured and sweet and soft, and if Nick didn’t know better, he’d
think she was nice. He did know better, though, and he thought she was
being sneaky, cozying up to Vernon in this way.