"This is for you." He handed her a wrapped bundle.
"You can come in if you promise to behave. Oh, you're still in your wet things."
"Don't worry, I'm tough." His gaze snared hers as he stepped through the open door. Just his magnetic presence made the cozy room shrink. "I think I wasted my gold dust buying you clothes. You look awfully good in that towel."
Garnet blushed, aware she was giving Wyatt a healthy view of her cleavage. And her legs. Goodness. Answering the door had been a very bad idea. Especially since the package was heavy, requiring both hands, and she could feel the towel beginning to slip. It was coming loose!
She dropped the bundle and caught the towel just as it slid open. Her new clothes hit the floor with a thud, and she looked up into Wyatt's laughing eyes.
"I saw something I shouldn't have," he confessed.
She felt her face flame. "Not another word. Forget whatever it was you saw."
"That is a mighty big request."
She never should have invited him in. It was plain as day. What was he thinking? Worse, what had he seen? No, she didn't want to know.
He swept off his battered hat and crossed the room. He knelt before the fire. She admired the strength in his iron-hard arms as he reached for a log and fit it into the snapping flames.
"Aren't you going to see what I bought you?" His dark gaze met hers, and a knowledge winked there. The memory of what he'd seen when her towel had slipped.
Oh, he was never going to forget that. Her face flaming hot, she ducked her chin and retrieved the fallen package. It was held together by white twine. She untied the string and the brown paper fell open.
"Wyatt. I–" Words failed her. She simply forgot to breathe at the sight of the soft flannel nightgown with fine lace trimming and pearl buttons. "I've never seen such fine things."
Her rough fingers traced the gleaming buttons. She couldn't be expected to sleep in such a garment. And the dress! A lake-blue calico with sprinkles of small, darker blue flowers. Satin ribbons and lace and buttons in the shapes of blueberries garnished the dress. She opened her mouth but no sounds came out. She could only stare at Wyatt's gift, at this expensive, ready-made dress of such a quality fabric.
She heard his footsteps on the floorboards, as he approached. Beneath the towel her body quivered. His hands cupped her shoulders and she melted at his touch.
"I want to see you in it." His voice caressed the back of her neck.
She forgot how to breathe. She could only nod and he stepped away, leaving her tingling body confused and aching for his heated touch.
"I'll turn my back. I won't peek, I promise."
"You could step out of the room," she said instead.
Amusement flashed in his dark eyes. "Yes, but I don't want to leave you."
For the life of her, she couldn't think of what to say in response. He simply turned around, leaving her stammering like a fool. She had no choice. The towel hit the floor and she pulled on the lace-edged drawers she found folded in the bottom of the package. Then the matching camisole. Her hands trembled as she unbuttoned the front placket of the beautiful dress.
What was she doing? Accepting a man's gifts, dressing with him in the same room. She felt giddy, light-hearted, strangely dizzy. She was having fun, that's what this feeling was. For the first time in more years than she could remember, since before Ma had fallen ill, she had no responsibilities, no obligations heavy on her shoulders.
Anticipating the night yet to come, she pulled the dress over her head and settled the skirt on her hips. It felt odd without petticoats, but free, too. She busied herself buttoning the bodice. This dress ought to make even someone as plain as her pretty. Excited for Wyatt to see her, she took a shaky breath. "You can turn around."
He did. His gaze slid from her face down the entire length of her dress. A broad grin played across his mouth and reached all the way up to his eyes. "Blue is becoming on you. You should wear it more often."
"I think I will." Garnet felt as if a fairy's spell had changed her from a toad into a princess. "Thank you, Wyatt. It's the dress."
"It's you." He stared at her and said nothing for a moment. "Are you feeling up to a meal? We can go back to Eleanore's place. Great food and the safest spot in town. No gun-fighting allowed."
Garnet smiled. He was going to buy her dinner. No man had ever offered to do that before. "I would be honored to be seen in your company."
"You just don't know my reputation around this town." He stepped closer. His eyes had changed. He no longer looked lost; there were no shadows. Only laughter and affection and a spark of something so honest she could not force her gaze away.
"I don't care about your reputation." She lifted her face in a challenge, or perhaps in invitation. "I only care about you."
Like the last of winter's snow at the sun's touch, Garnet's whole heart melted. Wyatt could see it in her eyes, like ice cracking on a pond. Some distant, protected part of her simply gave way, relaxed, and it occurred to him then he had never seen a more beautiful woman. Her lustrous black hair hung wet and seductive down her back, but small wisps had dried in airy curls about her face.
He closed the distance between them. It took so little to move his hands to her upper arms. When he found her mouth with his, she met his kiss willingly. All tender heat and velvet caresses. How he wanted her. He cupped her chin with one hand just to touch her, just to hold more of her while his lips tasted hers.
The night stood still. The bustling noise outside the window faded. Even the steady beat of his heart stopped as Garnet's mouth shifted beneath his, tentative, innocent. He tipped his head to take more of her, to run his tongue along the delicious seam of her lips, over the smooth surface of her teeth, testing the heady feel of her tongue twining with his. She lifted a small, warm hand to his jaw.
A groan of desire started down deep in his belly and worked its way up. He wanted all of her. Here. Now. For as long as he could have her. He didn't care when or how. He only knew that he had never wanted anything more than he wanted Garnet. And he knew she felt it, too. He knew by the rough way her breath fanned his cheek and how her body leaned into his invitingly.
Oh
. The groan tore from his throat and he eased her back onto the large bed centering the room. She slipped back willingly, clinging to him, refusing to interrupt their kiss, all lips and teeth and tongue. Wyatt's whole world tilted from a rough, solitary existence to that of need. He needed her touch. He needed her body. Most of all, he needed her affection.
As if she sensed that, Garnet slipped her hands over his chest, skimming across his skin. Without thinking, he ran his right hand over the soft cotton of her bodice to cup her perfect breasts. Soft, warm, like nothing in his life, nothing in his world. She was this magic that changed his shack into a home, his loneliness into need.
He fumbled with tiny buttons and soon her bare breasts were filling his hands.
"Oh, Wyatt," she breathed in a sigh, lost, dazed, as spellbound as he. He lifted his mouth from hers and trailed wet, sensuous kisses down her throat. She groaned freely just as he knew she would when his mouth closed over her budded nipple.
"Oh,
Wyatt
." Her voice changed.
She must feel it too
, he thought. This tumbling rush of passion. The clench of hard need. He ran his tongue over her breast, teasing, tasting, caressing.
"
Wyatt
." She planted both palms flat against his forehead and shoved hard. His head snapped away from her breast and he stared at her, panting.
"What?" He didn't mean to sound so irritable.
But looking into her frightened eyes, he knew what he had done. It had been too fast for her. He stood. He ran his hands through his tangled hair, and he could hardly turn to look at her for the way it made his heart hurt. Silence ticked by and she sat up on the bed, holding closed her new dress, a disheveled, attractive, amazing woman gazing up at him with tears in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he choked out. How had he lost control? How had he been so misguided as to think a woman this fine would want a man like him?
"I'm not. I'm just not used to such feelings." Her chin was bowed and the little bit he could see of her face was bright red, flushing with embarrassment. No, desire.
He held out his hand. He didn't deserve her, could never deserve her, but how he wanted her. "Let's go hunt us down some supper."
"Even at this late hour?" Her chin trembled as she gazed up at him. Vulnerability and want shone in her eyes.
"Even at this hour," he confirmed, for the gold town of Virginia City never slept.
"Then I will allow you to buy me supper, Mr. Tanner." She held out her arm. "As long as you behave like a gentleman. In public."
In public. Why, she hadn't said one word about how he should behave in private.
* * *
What had she done? Garnet wondered over her steak supper. She'd become thoroughly infatuated with Wyatt.
"You haven't touched your glass of wine," he observed from across the intimate table in the corner of Madame Dumont's establishment.
"I've never sampled spirits before."
"A little wine never hurt anyone."
He was teasing her. No, he was tempting her. Garnet took a bite of her baked potato. She studied the wineglass, glittering in the candlelight. "I've been adventurous so far. Why should I stop now?"
"That's my philosophy."
She had already panned for gold, ridden astride, and nearly stripped herself naked just for more of a man's touch. What was a little alcohol compared to that?
She sampled the wine. Liquid sweetness tumbled across her tongue. "This is delicious. I like it."
She was learning she liked a whole lot of things.
A man stepped up to the table. "Tanner. The boys and I have missed you at our regular games."
"Been busy up north." Wyatt's forehead crinkled and his jaw tensed, but he stood and shook the stranger's hand with great gusto. "It's good to see you, Reardon."
"Who's the beautiful lady?" Reardon studied her. "Are you getting soft in your old age? None of us can remember you keeping the company of a woman."
"There's a first time for everything."
Garnet liked knowing Wyatt hadn't taken many women out to dinner as a regular habit in his life as a deputy.
"Ma'am." Reardon tipped his hat. "We were hoping you would play a few hands with us. Perhaps your lady will be understanding."
"Understanding?" Wyatt's gaze met hers. "I'll let you know. Tell the boys hello for me."
"Will do." Reardon backed away. "Ma'am."
"You used to spend a lot of time gambling?" Garnet asked over the rim of her wineglass.
Wyatt curled his fingers around the knife's wooden handle. He concentrated far too hard on cutting his steak. "Saloons and gaming halls are always a good source of information for a lawman."
"Sure. I believe that."
"You wouldn't believe what men will let slip with enough whiskey under their belts. I've solved some of my most difficult cases that way–" He stopped. "Besides, it helps to have something to do with your nights when there's nobody at home to miss you."
"Were you going to play poker tonight?"
He set down his knife. "Not without you."
"What if I don't play poker?"
"You didn't drink alcohol until a few minutes ago." His thumb caressed the back of her hand, soft circular strokes that made the surface of her skin heat and thrum wherever he touched her.
"I didn't used to do a lot of things until I met you. You, Wyatt Tanner, have been a very bad influence on me."
"I'm trying." He leaned close. "I bet you couldn't outsmart all those men and win some of their money."
"Outsmart them?" Garnet turned to study the table. "What does that have to do with playing poker?"
"It's a game of strategy. Of thought." He knew darn well he was tempting her, teasing her with the one thing that would spark her interest. "You probably aren't smart enough to outthink those men. They are bankers and merchants. They're pretty clever."
She could see he was baiting her, but her intelligence was one thing she had to defend, at any cost. "Are we making a wager, Mr. Tanner?"
"We are. I bet you can't win a single hand."
"And I bet I can."
"Then we'll need something to wager with. Something of great value."
Her stomach fluttered. "What do you have in mind?"
"The hotel only had one room left when we arrived."
"Only one? But where–"
"I made arrangements at the stable. I've slept in worse places." He held out his hand in a challenge, a wager of honor between two intelligent people. "I bet the bed. Whoever wins gets to sleep in it tonight."
She knew perfectly well what was on his mind, but Garnet Jones was not a woman who backed down when she was sure to win.
"You're on, Mr. Tanner." And they shook on it.
Chapter Twelve
"It's your turn," Wyatt mumbled in her ear.
She knew. She was just trying to decide what to do. Four well-dressed men watched her carefully over the table, amused that a woman of such little skill had joined them. Oh, she knew they had agreed to this only to have Wyatt at their table.
