To Love a Scoundrel (8 page)

"Yes, ma'am." Jewel managed to resist the urge to salute, but she opened her mouth, sucked in a huge gulp of air, and yawned instead.

Maggie leaned her bulk forward and stared at the dark rings under Jewel's eyes. "You make it to bed before curfew last night?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am," she lied, blinking in an effort to moisten her tired eyes. "I didn't sleep too well in my new surroundings, though. I'll be perkier tomorrow."

"See that you are." Maggie looked away from her and pointed to a section of the dining room. "Those tables are yours, and it looks like you got your first customer. Here—take him this menu and keep his coffee cup filled. You got to learn sometime, might as well be now."

Jewel straightened her shoulders, nodding to her supervisor, and marched stiff-backed to the table where a man sat reading the newspaper. "Good morning," she said sweetly. "Welcome to Harvey House. May I get you some coffee?" The paper fell to the table, revealing the man's features.

"Morning," Brent Connors said through a broad grin. "I appreciate the offer. Make it two cups. Looks like you could use one yourself."

Jewel bit her lip and closed her eyes. Not this morning, she prayed silently. Please, God, not this morning. Grumbling to herself, she took a deep breath and stared down at him. "What do you want?"

"Breakfast—like most folks who stop by here. You have some kind of problem with that?"

"I've got a problem with you," she spit out.

"Tsk-tsk," he said, his dimples carved into his cheeks. "You're a bit on the testy side this morning. Lose some sleep last night?"

Refusing to be baited, even though she now knew he had realized she was under his bed, Jewel gave him a smile that was little more than a grimace and said, "I slept just fine, if it's any of your business. Here. If you can read this, decide what you want." She tossed the menu on the table, adding as she walked away, "I'll be right back with your coffee."

Laughing to himself, he watched her retreat, taking particular delight in the stiff back and angry gait. But then something about the way she moved, the way her round little bottom effortlessly guided the bustles beneath her plain skirt, caught his attention and cut off his breath. Damn, he thought to himself, acknowledging a spurt of desire, too bad the little lady's a thief.

Brent shifted in his chair and reached for a toothpick. Knowing she'd broken into his room was one thing, he thought, admiring her ingenuity, but getting her to admit it was going to be quite another. Suddenly looking forward to the diversion, the challenge, Brent spread his linen napkin across his lap and picked up the menu just as his quarry returned.

"Sugar and cream are on the table," Jewel announced as she poured steaming coffee into the fine china cup. "Have you decided what you'll have for breakfast yet?"

Brent looked up from the menu, through her octagonal glasses, and into her tired green eyes. With a lopsided smile, he said, "I believe I'll have some, ah..." He squinted, pulling the toothpick from his mouth. "A pair of fried eggs. Please make sure they're fresh."

"The only thing fresh around here is
you."
The knowledge that she was very close to losing her temper, her control, and even worse, her job wasn't enough to help Jewel muster up the necessary calm. In a voice much louder than was proper, a tone lacking any respect, she demanded. "Make up your mind you two-bit gambler. Just what is it you want?"

Brent raised his eyebrows and cocked his head as he began a slow perusal of her body. "It was easier to decide that when we met in Chicago. I liked that dress a whole lot better than this frigid spinster getup."

Jewel banged the pot down on the table, splattering the fine linen with coffee, and shook a finger in his face. "Listen, you overblown puffed-up dandy. I've had just about all I'm going to take from you."

From behind her, Jewel heard a distinct ahem! She lifted her chin, turned around, and was not surprised in the least to find Maggie Jahner jabbing her with a pointed gaze.

The stern-faced woman approached. "Is there some problem here, Miss MacMillan?"

"Oh, ah, the coffee. I, ah..." Jewel sputtered, chagrined to realize that she'd put her job in jeopardy. "I seem to have—"

"It's my fault," Brent offered. "I'm afraid I stuck my boot out at an inopportune moment for the young lady. Please forgive me"—he looked straight into Jewel's green eyes—"sugar pie."

Sucking in an angry breath, she glared back at him, but somehow managed a sweet sigh and a breathless "Don't give it another thought. I'll just bring you a clean tablecloth. Would you like anything with those eggs besides fried potatoes? Bacon perhaps? Or ham?"

"Oh, no question about it—I'll have the... ham."

Her smile forced, Jewel said, "Right away, sir. Excuse me, Mrs. Jahner?" She curtsied and bounced off toward the kitchen as if she didn't have a care in the world.

As Jewel gathered the fresh linens, she cursed the fact she'd ever laid eyes on Brent Connors, then made herself a promise. She simply could not allow that insufferable man to draw her into any further conversation, nor could she let him jeopardize her job again. From now on, she would draw on her considerable acting talents whenever he was near, and behave as if she were a mute.

Her mind made up, Jewel glided back into the dining room and began moving the china and fine silver to one edge of his table. Although she kept his outline in the corner of her vision, she did not make eye contact with the gambler.

Amused by the sudden change, challenged by this new stoical exterior, Brent pushed his chair back from the table and crossed his legs. "How's your debonair father this morning?"

Jewel pulled the soiled cloth off the table and rolled it into a ball. Her mouth was set and determined.

Brent persisted. "What do you suppose your father's up to while you're slaving away in here? Robbing hotel rooms?''

Jewel spread the new tablecloth. She raised the corner of her upper lip just the slightest bit, but she remained calm.

"Perhaps he's robbing little old ladies of their egg money," Brent went on, "or marking a fresh deck of cards for tonight's big game."

Jewel replaced the silver and fine china. The freckles on the tip of her nose wriggled as she frowned, but she remained silent.

Brent leaned forward and sniffed the air. "Hmm, violets, isn't it? A lovely scent. I seem to recall it from... Where was it I recently... Why, I believe it was in my own room, just last night."

Jewel gasped as she reached for the coffee pot, and in spite of her vows, chanced a look into his warm brown eyes. So that was it, she thought, almost laughing out loud. She smiled, offering a silent 'that's one point for you, Mr. Bayberry Cologne,' then quietly refilled his coffee cup.

Touched by what he saw in her eyes, more confused and more interested in her than ever, Brent played out his hand. "By the way, darlin, you snore like a grizzly in hibernation."

"I do not," she snapped, all vows forgotten. "If anyone snores, it's you. You sound as if—" Again banging the coffee pot down on the table, she blanched and spun around, partly to ensure the safety of her job, but mainly to avoid admitting she'd fallen into yet another of his traps. Maggie was nowhere in sight. The few customers sprinkled throughout the restaurant seemed unaware of, or uninterested in, her tantrum.

Jewel turned back to Brent and went on with her tirade. "Good Lord, Mr. B. S. Connors, you really ought to go by your initials. They certainly say a lot about your character. You are the most—" The shrill whistle of the approaching train cut off her words and reminded her of the job she had to do. Furious with herself for the lapse in her professional demeanor, Jewel pressed her lips together and turned to walk away.

Brent reached out and caught her wrist. "Not so fast." He cocked his head, listening as the train chugged into the depot. "You may have been saved by the whistle this time, but you and I are going to have the rest of this conversation soon."

"Let go of me," she insisted, tugging at her arm.

Brent tightened his grip. "I'm not through with you yet. I've got a warning, and you'd better hope your dear sweet daddy has enough brains to rob someone besides me today. I don't cotton to uninvited guests in my room. Next time it happens, I intend to prosecute."

Her green eyes flashing, Jewel ground her teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now for the last time, let me go."

"And for the last time—if you want to visit my room, just ask. I promise you'll be a lot more comfortable." He winked, raking his gaze across her bosom, then lower. "I might even let you lie down on
top
of my bed."

"Oh, that's it." She tore her wrist out of his grasp and stomped off to tend the passengers filing into the restaurant.

"Welcome to the Harvey House," she forced herself to say over and over, even as the sound of Brent's laughter rang in her ears. "And how many coffees here?"

Jewel fell into the routine then, grateful for the rush of customers, and traded Brent's table to one of the other waitresses. She kept pace with the more experienced girls, serving countless plates of biscuits and gravy, mopping up spills of honey and grits, and running from table to table with a full pot of coffee. When at last a lull seemed to settle over the crowd, when all were at some stage of filling their bellies, Jewel wiped her brow with the back of her hand and looked around the room. Brent, she noticed, still lingered over his breakfast, his face buried in the newspaper. All of her customers seemed content.

Her glance skipped to the other stations. Jewel dropped her waitress mien and began to study the patrons like a detective. As her gaze roamed the room, eager to settle on someone, anyone who might resemble Harry Benton, the familiar features of Jesse James suddenly filled her vision, stopping the search quicker than he could fleece his victims.

Slicked back, greasy-looking brown hair, close-set muddy brown eyes, stubbly days-old beard. She could have written the wanted poster. The man was most definitely the leader of the James gang. Slowly inching her way across the room, Jewel glanced at the other men at the table. The outlaw sat with his brother Frank; Jewel didn't know the three other gang members. All of them appeared to be close to finishing their meal, she noticed with alarm.

Mary Elizabeth, the waitress for the James table, emerged from the kitchen carrying two platters of sausages and biscuits, and Jewel settled on a plan. Feeling a twinge of regret, but lacking the time to seek another solution, she grabbed a pot of coffee and headed into the unsuspecting girl's path.

"Oh, my Lord," Jewel gasped as she collided with Mary Elizabeth, spilling the contents of the plates all over the poor girl's crisp white shirtwaist and apron. "How terribly awkward of me!"

"Oh," the young waitress squealed. "Oh, my stars."

"Don't worry, dear," Jewel promised as she bent down and began cleaning the mess off the floor. "I'll take care of your station. You go change into fresh clothes."

"Oh—oh, my. Yes, I'd better run and do that. Thank you." Mary Elizabeth put her fingers to her mouth and backed self-consciously out of the dining room.

After she'd done her best to clear the floor, Jewel grabbed a fresh pot of coffee and advanced on the James brothers.

"Morning, gentlemen. More coffee, anyone?"

Jesse looked up at her and smiled, his dark reptilian eyes shining with excitement. "Hobbs? Bill? Everybody all set?" He turned back to Jewel. "Thanks, but we're all full up—with coffee, anyways."

"Maybe I can get you something else," she said, the model of efficiency. "Some pie or—"

"No, gal. The only thing you can get now is out of our way."

The James boys chuckled in unison, but Jewel didn't budge. Jesse glanced over at Frank, and then slid his hands along the sides of his hair. "Go on now, gal. Skedaddle on outta here," he repeated as he straightened his tie and stood up.

Jewel took one step back, and then stood her ground.

Jesse straightened his broad tie and addressed the roomful of diners.

"Welcome to Topeka, ladies and gents," he began, his scruffy beard the only thing out of place in his otherwise gentlemanly appearance. "Me and the boys here are a kind a welcoming committee. Ain't that right, boys?"

The rest of the men stood and bowed as they slowly turned, surveying the crowd.

Rapidly searching for a way to bring the situation under control, to arrest the outlaws without endangering the lives of the customers, Jewel remained not two feet behind Jesse.

Unaware she was still there, Jesse continued his speech, his grin easygoing and friendly. "How many of you are here for the big poker tournament?" At the overwhelming applause, he glanced at his companions and gave them a short nod. The four men split apart, each heading for a corner of the room.

"The boys and I are mighty glad to hear that. So glad, in fact, we've decided to save you the trouble of going into town. You can lose your stakes without ever leaving the depot." Jesse drew a battered Colt .45, his grin suddenly a deadly leer, and barked an order. "Now everybody pay real close attention and no one'll get hurt. Put your money and baubles on the table. Soon as you've made your donation, put your hands on top of your head."

Stepping away from the table, he glanced around the restaurant. "The boys are going to come around and collect now. Don't no one try to be a hero. Anyone makes a move for his gun gets a bellyfull of lead."