Kid Calhoun (19 page)

Anabeth let go of the towel with one hand and
rubbed the back of her neck where it had lain against the tub. “I guess I fell asleep.”

Jake watched the towel slipping and resisted the urge to tuck it around her. He was getting not only a good look at the swell of her breasts, but a tantalizing hint of two lovely pink aureoles as well. He was appalled at how quickly his body responded to her. The Kid wasn’t the type of female he normally sought out when he needed a woman.

Jake had a firm rule about leaving virgins alone. Let a man get involved with a good woman, and she would soon have him cinched to the last hole. So he had always been careful not to get his spurs tangled in virtuous petticoats. Not that Anabeth was wearing petticoats. But that only made the whole business trickier. Because innocent or not, dressed in petticoats or not, he wanted her.

“Don’t you think you’d better get dressed,” he said in a husky voice.

Anabeth looked around the room for her clothes. She arched a brow. “I would if I had anything to wear. I think Claire decided the things I had on needed washing.”

“Claire!”

Claire came running at Jake’s bellow. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” She stopped at the threshold when she saw Anabeth standing there in nothing but a drooping towel. “Jake! What are you doing in here? Scat! Shoo!”

She marched forward and would have thrown him out the kitchen door like a mangy cat except Jake held his ground.

“I’m afraid this is a case of closing the barn door after the horse is gone,” he drawled.

Claire looked from Jake to Anabeth’s rosy cheeks and back again. “Oh.”

“Besides, I’m not interested.”

He saw Claire didn’t believe him. But Anabeth did, and her relief was almost tangible. Which irritated him. “Where did you put my saddlebags?”

“In Jeff’s room.”

“There’s a package wrapped up in brown paper in one of my bags. Would you get it for me, please?”

The tension hummed between Jake and Anabeth for the few moments it took Claire to leave and return. She handed the package to Jake. “Here it is.”

“This is for you,” Jake said. He held it out to Anabeth, but she had both hands occupied holding on to the towel.

“Would you open it for me please?”

Jake untied the brown string and the Wedgwood blue silk taffeta dress spilled out, along with a lacy chemise, a corset, and pink-ribboned drawers.

“Oh, Jake!” Anabeth let go of the towel with one hand and reached out to caress the silken fabric. Her eyes glowed as she lifted them from the dress to meet Jake’s gaze. “You bought the dress for me. Thank you.”

Jake’s cheeks burned with heat. “I figured with company coming tonight you could use something a little fancy to wear to supper.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll always treasure it.”

“Come back in a little while,” Claire said as she shooed Jake out of the kitchen. “Supper will be ready soon.”

Jake didn’t waste time arguing. When he left the kitchen he headed for the barn, where he saddled up his gelding and took off toward the small graveyard where Sam was buried. He sat on the grass beside Sam’s grave and pondered the situation.

He needed to get things settled soon, so he didn’t have to spend any more time than necessary in Anabeth Calhoun’s company. Because the longer he knew her, the more vulnerable he seemed to be to the
woman. All he had done was buy the damn woman a dress, and you would think he had given her the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Speaking of gold, although he didn’t want to think it, he had to consider the possibility that Anabeth knew—had known all along—where Sam’s gold was hidden. Somehow he had to convince her that she must give it up. Maybe he could make a deal with her. The gold in exchange for letting her go, maybe.

Jake froze. He would get the gold
and
send the Kid to jail. That was the way he did things. No compromise. Ever. No deals. Ever. Not even for Anabeth Calhoun. Especially not for Anabeth Calhoun.

Because he found her too attractive for his peace of mind, Jake had to be firm. He had to stick to his guns. He had past examples to show him he was courting disaster if he let an outlaw go free.

Jake’s mind was still churning as he headed back to the ranch house. He saw a man dressed up in a city suit riding toward him in the distance and figured it was probably Claire’s company. He headed in Will Reardon’s direction. It might not be a bad idea to have a talk in private with the man before supper.

“Howdy,” Jake called as he approached the other man on horseback. Reardon looked almost the dandy in his black suit and string tie. He didn’t hold a candle to Sam Chandler.

“I’m Jake Kearney, Claire’s brother. Am I right in assuming you’re Will Reardon?”

“You are. And I am.”

Reardon’s face turned a chalky white. Jake wondered if Claire had been making threats of violence on his behalf without his knowledge. His sister was nothing, if not resourceful.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Reardon said. It was almost an accusation.

“I just arrived this morning. When I saw you riding
up, I thought I’d take advantage of the opportunity for us to have a little talk in private.”

Reardon took his hat off, ran his hand through silky blond hair, then put his hat back on again. “I wish I could give Mrs. Chandler more time to pay,” Reardon said, getting right down to business. “But I’ve got debts of my own to take care of.”

“Would it make a difference if I told you I’ve got a lead on where to find Sam’s gold?”

Reardon’s odd-colored yellow eyes widened. “You do? Where is it? I mean, how do you know where to find it?”

“I met up with a niece of one of the gang members, Anabeth Calhoun. She seemed to think her uncle might have hidden the gold in the valley where they lived. She’s going to take me there and help me hunt for it.”

“She is? That’s very interesting. A niece, you say? When do you think you might get started?”

“Soon,” Jake promised. “Just thought I’d lay up a day or two here and visit my sister. I wanted to ask you whether, in light of this latest information, you might not be able to wait a little longer for payment on the note.”

Reardon pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped at his brow. “Yes,” he muttered. “Yes, this does change things a bit. If what I think is true …”

“So your answer is yes?” Jake prodded.

“Certainly. Certainly I can do a favor for a neighbor, Mr. Kearney. Actually, I only rode over to apologize to Mrs. Chandler and tell her I can’t come for supper this evening. I’ve got some urgent business that’s going to take me away from the ranch for a while. Perhaps you’d be willing to extend my apologies to your sister for me?”

“If that’s the way you want it.” Jake knew Claire would be happy to avoid the rancher if she could.

Reardon tipped his hat. “Then I’ll be leaving. Nice meeting you, Mr. Kearney. I wish you luck on your treasure hunt.”

“Thanks,” Jake said.
I’ll need it
.

Jake kicked his horse into a lope and soon arrived back at the house. He called for Claire as he shoved the front door open.

“No need to yell, Jake. I’m right here.”

She wasn’t the only one there. Anabeth was standing right beside her in front of the fireplace. And she looked radiant. Her face glowed with pleasure. Her hair had been freed from its braids and was caught up high in back with a blue bow.

Claire urged Anabeth a step closer to Jake. “Now tell me she isn’t beautiful,” she dared Jake.

“She’s beautiful,” Jake agreed. “About the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Claire laughed. “I’m going to let you get away with that because I’m your sister and don’t expect such compliments from you,” she chided.

Without Reardon’s presence, the supper Claire had planned was relaxed and cordial. Or at least as relaxed as it could be for a man sitting across the table from a beautiful virgin who shot bashful looks at him from under long, fluttery lashes.

After supper Jake mentioned to Claire that he wanted to speak with Anabeth alone for a few minutes.

“Why don’t you take Anabeth into the parlor,” Claire said. “I’ve got a fire going there, and it’s more comfortable.”

Anabeth eyed Jake warily as he sat down across from her in one of the two Spanish leather chairs that were situated in front of the stone fireplace. In her Levi’s, with her gunbelt at her waist, she would have known how to handle Jake Kearney. But in the silk taffeta dress, she was someone else. Someone less
confident of who she was, and what she wanted from the attractive man whose eyes had never left her all evening.

Jake’s guts were tied up in knots. From the moment he had walked into the house and seen Anabeth in that dress, he had tried to imagine her behind iron bars. It wasn’t a picture he could conjure. What came more readily to mind were pictures of her sleek naked flesh as it had appeared when she stood before him earlier in the kitchen. During supper he had mentally undressed Anabeth Calhoun and made love to her a dozen times.

And he was still hard as a rock.

He cleared his throat, but his voice was still husky with desire when he spoke. “I’d be willing to speak to the judge on your behalf, ask for leniency, in exchange for the gold. All you have to do is take me to it.”

“I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t!” Jake retorted. “You stubborn—”

“Can’t! Won’t! What difference does it make?” Anabeth said. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t know where it is!”

An instant later she found herself nose to nose with an angry man. Jake had risen and leaned over with his hands braced on the arms of her chair so she was trapped between them. Anabeth could see the fine webbed lines around his eyes and the thin white scar that pulled his mouth down on one side. Right now he looked like he could easily—and happily—wring her neck.

“I’m not going to argue with you about this, Kid. When we leave here in a couple of days, after my leg has time to heal a little more, you’re going to lead me to that gold. Understand?”

Anabeth said something in Apache very unflattering to Jake’s family tree.

Being an intelligent man, Jake didn’t ask her what she had said.

“You can’t make me do anything,” Anabeth said at last.

“Can’t I?” Jake stood and in the same movement grabbed Anabeth’s hand and yanked her out of the chair. She came flying toward him, stopped only by contact with his chest. He tunneled his fingers into a handful of her hair and arched her head back at a painful angle so she had no choice except to look at him. His other arm circled her hips, pinning her against his thighs.

Jake felt the heat in his loins and cursed. “You’ll do what I say, Kid, or I’ll—”

Anabeth opened her mouth to argue and Jake closed it in the most efficient way possible—with his own.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected her to do—fight him, maybe, or jerk her head away. Instead, her body melted against him, and her mouth trembled under his, open and vulnerable to his kiss.

Jake felt the blood pound in his veins, felt his whole being slipping away as she surrendered to him. He gentled his mouth on hers, but the effect was no less devastating to his senses. He lifted his head and looked into eyes dark with passion—yet confused and a little frightened, too.

The breath she had been holding shuddered out of her.

He realized he was still pressed against her, that his hand was still fisted in her hair. He released her.

Almost in slow motion she took a step back away from him.

“Look, Kid, I—”

Claire entered the room in what had to be the most
awkward moment of Jake’s life. She took one look at Anabeth’s frightened face, frowned fiercely at Jake, and said, “I think it’s time I showed Anabeth where she’ll be sleeping.”

Claire led Anabeth to Jeff’s room and showed her the nightgown she had laid out for her on the bed. Anabeth’s glance slid to Jake’s saddlebags in the corner of the room. Those bags contained Booth’s guns.

“Are you all right? Do you need any help undressing?” Claire asked.

“I’m fine,” Anabeth replied with a stiff smile. “I’ll undress myself.”

“Good night, Anabeth,” Claire said. “Sleep well.”

“Good-bye, Claire,” Anabeth murmured. As soon as Claire was gone, Anabeth began a search through Jake’s saddlebags for Booth’s pearl-handled guns. Then she began unbuttoning the eighteen cloth-covered buttons on the silk taffeta dress. She stepped out of the gown and laid it carefully across the bed, smoothing the fabric. Where she was going, she wouldn’t need it.

She dressed herself in one of Jake’s shirts and a pair of his trousers rolled up in the legs. In the masculine clothes, she felt more like what she was. Kid Calhoun, outlaw. She couldn’t afford to have feelings for a lawman. Especially not one as determined, as single-minded, as Jake Kearney.

Unfortunately, Anabeth was afraid it was too late. A shuddery sigh escaped as she conceded that she could very well be falling in love with the Ranger.

The worst of it was, she knew Jake didn’t love her. He couldn’t love any woman. He only desired her, as Booth had desired Sierra. Anabeth needed more than that. So before she let Jake tempt her to go hunting for gold, instead of revenge, she had to leave this place.

She had no doubt he would pursue her. Not for
herself, of course, but for the gold. She would need all the skills Wolf had taught her to elude him.

Anabeth took one last look at the silk taffeta dress. She hated to leave it behind. But the truth was, it had been made to be worn by a lady—not an outlaw named Kid Calhoun.

Anabeth opened the shuttered window and slipped out into the night.