Lips That Touch Mine (26 page)

"We should have waited for him to put on his
skates," Anna said, following Claire onto the ice.

"He'll catch up with us."

"I know you didn't believe me the first time
I said it, but that man is in love with you."

"Nonsense. He just likes to irritate me."

"He does more than irritate you."

She wanted to deny it, but her feet wouldn't
let her. Her left foot was achingly cold. But her right foot, the
one Boyd had caressed with his warm hand, was nestled comfortably
in her skate.

"Why not enjoy his attention?" Anna suggested
as they slowed to avoid the people in front of them. "What harm can
come from ice skating?"

And maybe Anna was right.

Boyd was a saloon owner—the man responsible
for her failing business—but he had also been her protector this
evening when Karlton had hurt her. He wasn't the same kind of man
as Jack, or Larry, or Karlton—he was of an altogether higher
caliber. It wasn't fair to lump him, or other honorable men, into
the same category.

As long as she kept alert to his intention,
she could avoid getting hurt. And maybe she could find a way to
bring Boyd around to her way of thinking about whiskey and
saloons.

Her legs were just warming up to the
side-sliding rhythm when Boyd skated past. He pivoted in front of
her and skated backwards.

"Would you ladies like an escort?"

Her heart hitched. His grin was irresistibly
boyish and charming. Already she was in trouble, and the evening
had just begun.

"You two go ahead," Anna said. "I need to
tighten the laces on my skates."

He held out his hand to Claire. "Want to see
how fast we can go?"

She could see by his lifted eyebrow that he
was challenging her. "Why not?" she said with a saucy lift of her
chin.

He pivoted with ease and skated beside her.
"This won't hurt your arm, will it?"

She slipped her hand into the crook of his
elbow. "I'm fine."

"It should have never happened, Claire." His
voice was filled with apology and concern.

Karlton's mauling was nothing compared to
what she'd experienced with Jack, but it had obviously upset Boyd
enough to fire the man. "Does Karlton have a wife?"

"No."

"That is something to be thankful for. I can
only imagine how horrible he'd be after a night of drinking."

"He doesn't drink." She glanced up in
surprise, and he nodded. "It's true. I've never seen him touch a
drop of ale or liquor in the two years I've known him." He steered
her around a couple of children clowning with each other. "Karlton
is a staunch businessman out to make his fortune. That's why all
this temperance nonsense has him so upset."

"It's not nonsense."

"Let's not argue. In fact, let's not talk
about the subject at all." He tucked her arm more firmly against
his side. Their bodies shifted into a synchronized rhythm as they
skated in silence. Their breath formed frosty funnels as they
circled the rink.

Men and women greeted Boyd with warm smiles
as they passed. Even the women who marched with Claire gave him
friendly nods. This was his town, she realized. He belonged here.
These people were his friends and neighbors. His family was well
respected, and despite Boyd's choice of owning a saloon, so was
he.

Suddenly, Claire saw Boyd as a playful boy, a
beloved son, a respected man, instead of a saloon owner. He was all
of those things, and more.

"You're too deep in thought for skating," he
said. "It terrifies me that you're cooking up a plot to ruin
me."

She smiled. "Nothing so sinister."

"Then let's make our evening more festive."
He nudged her toward a group of people who were forming a circle.
He caught Anna's hand and pulled her into the ring with them. Then
he linked hands with Claire. A man to her left clasped her other
hand, forming an unbroken circle. Suddenly, the group of people
began to skate to the right. As they increased their speed, their
arms stretched out. Claire was pulled along by Boyd as the people
circled faster and faster. The women shrieked, the men laughed, but
Boyd never took his eyes off her face. His teeth flashed white in
the lantern light, his deep laughter spilling over her, warming
her.

Her own laughter bubbled out and she clung to
his strong hand, enjoying the wild ride and the sounds of laughter
around her. Several of the ladies begged to stop, but the men
merely slowed and forced the circle in the opposite direction. The
women shrieked and protested, then laughed as easily as Claire did.
She felt young in that moment.

When the crazy circling finally stopped, Anna
skated away with a group of ladies who were still gasping and
laughing. Claire clung to Boyd's arm and begged him to take her to
a bench until she stopped swaying.

"I'll keep you upright," he said, and slipped
his arm around her back.

Instinct made her stiffen, but she was too
off balance to pull away. They rounded the rink twice before her
head cleared, but by then she'd grown to like the feel of his arm
against her back.

"Are you going to be chastised by your lady
friends for consorting with the enemy?" he asked, his eyes
sparkling with humor.

"Not once I've told them I'm helping our
cause by wearing down your resistance."

"Is that what you're doing?"

"Of course."

He laughed and tightened his arm, drawing her
against his side. "Then let's see how persuasive you can be."

Instead of wiggling away, she boldly met his
eyes. "Please close your saloon, Mr. Grayson."

He smiled down at her, and she felt as if she
were spinning in that crazy circle again, dizzy and half-scared but
unable to let go.

"Spend the evening with me tomorrow, and I'll
close the saloon for the night," he said.

"I don't believe you." She tried to slow
down, but he held her tight and pulled her along with him.

"I will, but only if you spend the evening
with me."

"Doing what?"

"Anything. Whatever you like."

"That's all it will take to get you to close
it?"

"Yes."

"I won't spend the time alone with you."

"I'm not asking you to."

Her face heated for unfairly assuming the
worst. She averted her eyes. "Why is spending time with me worth
closing your saloon?"

"I like your company."

She glanced up, doubting his sincerity.
"Forgive me if I suspect another motive."

"All right. It's because you like to debate
topics with me."

"No, I don't."

He tossed his head back and laughed. Her face
burned as several people glanced over. She'd do most anything to
shut down his saloon, but she wouldn't risk her reputation. She
needed to do business in this town.

"Are you intentionally trying to cause a
scandal?"

"No, but I won't mind if it happens." He was
looking at her with those gorgeous eyes that made her knees weak.
He pulled her closer to him. "I'm a bachelor. I have a right to
flirt with a pretty lady."

"Then you should have brought Martha
skating."

"I'm afraid she had to go back home."

"Well, if you're looking to flirt, then you'd
better go to Buffalo."

He slowed their pace and studied her. "Are
you only with me tonight to further your temperance cause?"

The hurt in his eyes shamed her. The truth
was, she liked his company and his roguish sense of humor. Too
much. If not for her business needs, she could easily fall for his
seduction.

But she did have a boardinghouse and a
serious reason for caution with Boyd. His saloon was hurting her
business. He could easily hurt her.

She averted her face. "This isn't the place
for this conversation."

"Then let's go someplace more private," he
said quietly. "My saloon is empty. We could talk there."

They could, but they wouldn't. "You
underestimate my intelligence. We wouldn't talk if we were alone in
your saloon."

"We wouldn't?" The mischief in his eyes was
so flirtatious, she wanted to stay in his arms all night.

"You're incredibly tempting to a lonely
woman," she boldly admitted. "But you would romance me, thrill me,
then crush me." She released his arm and drifted a few inches away.
"I can't afford the price of the ride."

Sub-zero temperatures made mid-January so brutal that the
temperance marches were cancelled for the week. Claire spent much
of her time near the stove and purposely avoided Boyd, but to her
dismay, she thought about him constantly.

She and Anna kept busy with charity work, and
spent their evenings with the Ormands and their precious daughter
Emily.

They resumed their marches on Monday, and
spent Monday evening in the parlor, watching Mrs. Ormand tease the
baby into a bubbly smile. Claire's heart melted when the infant's
pink lips pursed and her chubby arms flailed above her blond
head.

Her own baby would have been just over a year
old, had Claire not miscarried in her second month. When she lost
the baby, Jack had gone into a rage and a four-day drunk. Claire
had spiraled into a dark and angry depression.

The loud whack of her door knocker startled
her so badly that she jumped from her chair with a gasp. She
exchanged a glance with Anna, and they went to the foyer
together.

When Claire peeked out the window, her
heartache eased and gladness filled her. She opened the door.
Boyd's cheeks were shiny from a recent scrubbing. His hair was
combed back, showing the angles and contours of his handsome face—a
face she missed far too much. As much as it shamed her to admit it,
she missed his sense of humor, his playful teasing and
flirting.

"I heard the news about Willard Lewis closing
his saloon," he said. "You ladies must be thrilled with your
success."

"We are," she said proudly. Willard Lewis had
heeded their plea to close his saloon. Mr. Baldwin, the druggist,
had followed suit and pledged in writing that he would no longer
sell intoxicating beverages in his store. Both men agreed to help
the women further their good work.

Boyd's saloon had remained open every night
but Sunday.

"You ladies are becoming regular news in The
Censor. They reported that Washington, Ohio shut down all liquor
sales in just one week, which I find hard to believe."

"Dr. Lewis confirmed it," she said. "Liquor
licenses will be voted on by the legislature soon."

"I'm impressed."

She was, too. They still had several saloons
to close, but they were finally making real progress. "You're
welcome to join us in the parlor," she said, wanting his company
and the levity he usually brought to the evening.

"I was hoping you would invite me in before I
froze to death."

"You're dressed too warmly to freeze." She
waited while he shrugged off his heavy wool ulster, then took it
from him and hung it in the closet.

He winked at Anna. "I think she's beginning
to like me."

To Claire's shock, the woman slipped her hand
into the crook of Boyd's elbow. "Stop baiting her and come help me
with my chess game. Claire is annihilating me."

"I admire the concentration the game takes,"
he said, "but it's too tame for my blood."

Claire's heart warmed as she followed them to
the parlor, understanding that this was Anna's way of working
through her fear one small step at a time. Anna needed to relax, to
lower her guard, to learn how to socialize again.

She evidently trusted Boyd to help her do
that.

Boyd greeted Mr. and Mrs. Ormand, then sat on
the sofa and watched Anna and Claire finish their chess match.

Mr. Ormand, who looked like a boy beside
Boyd's worldly confidence, gave an exaggerated yawn and got to his
feet. "The baby is fussy this evening, and I'm dreadfully tired of
a sudden. The wife and I will bid you all goodnight." His wife
clutched their infant to her bosom and climbed the stairs behind
him.

Anna and Claire exchanged a grin. The baby
hadn't fussed once. Mr. Ormand was just eager to get his wife into
bed.

"Would you mind if we switched to cards?"
Anna asked.

"Of course not." Claire had never cared for
chess. It felt too cat-and-mouse to her, too much like the games
Jack had played. She swept the pieces into a felt bag and laid them
on the playing board. "Would you care to play a hand of poker?" she
asked, with a pointed glance at Boyd.

He raised his eyebrows. "Isn't that a bit
immoral for you ladies?"

"Not if you don't tell."

He grinned. "I'll let you ladies decide what
the wagers will be."

"It had better be something small," Anna
said, "because I don't know how to play."

"If you win, we won't march on your saloon
for a day," Claire said. "If we win, you close for a night."

He arched a superior eyebrow. "Are you
certain you want to make that wager?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, hoping she
looked innocently naive.

"Won't your lady friends be upset when you
tell them why you aren't marching on my saloon tomorrow?"

She merely shrugged, not about to debate the
issue and divulge how much she knew about the game. She retrieved a
deck of cards from the drawer in the sturdy oak coffee table.
"Would you like me to deal?"

He leaned back on the sofa. "By all means.
Ladies first."

An hour later he stared at her in open
admiration. "Did your grandmother teach you how to play?"

She shook her head. Claire had learned the
art of playing from Jack and his acquaintances. "Will you keep your
promise and close the saloon tomorrow?"

He frowned. "I honor my wagers, Claire."

"Excuse me," Anna said, getting to her feet.
"I'll make some tea."

The instant she left the parlor, Claire
sighed. "Why do I always seem to be insulting you?"