Yesterday's Roses (20 page)

It was a train. Perfect in every miniature detail, it ran by clockwork on a shiny track, occasionally emitting an off-key whistle. The polished brass locomotive pulled a string of colorfully painted cars, and there were even tiny passengers at some of the windows.

Carefully restraining her billowing skirts so as not to upset the little railroad, Hallie crouched beside him. “A train? I would have thought you to be more interested in the toy ships.”

“I own plenty of real ones, and I get to play with them every day.” He glanced up, his face utterly serious. “You're looking at the future. Railroads. Someday you'll be able to go from New York to California in less than two weeks' travel time. It's a dream I believe in, and I've invested heavily in it.”

“Less than two weeks, you say?” Hallie exclaimed, bending forward to study the model closer. “How wonderful!”

“Yes. Wonderful,” Jake agreed, shifting his gaze from Hallie's spellbound face to stare up at the beribboned greenery festooning the shelf full of dolls and puppets behind her. Then he grinned.

With a roguish expression, he leaned close to Hallie, whispering, “Merry Christmas, Mission Lady.”

When she looked up to return his felicitation, she found his face only scant inches from her own. His eyes were glowing with a warmth that captured her heart, and when he smiled, she felt as if the rest of the world had melted away.

“Merry Christmas,” Jake repeated, sweeping her into his embrace.

So firm and persuasive were his arms as he crushed her close, that her whole being was filled with the desire to savor his masculine strength. She became breathless with pleasure as their eyes met. His appeal was even more stunningly potent than she had remembered, his musky scent more sweetly intoxicating.

Holding her captive with the mesmerizing green fire of his gaze, Jake lifted his hand and gently traced the shape of her mouth. When he lingered to caress the tender skin lining her lower lip, her senses reeled in spiraling rapture.

Like a spirited filly gentling beneath a stallion's powerful command, Hallie trembled once and then surrendered to the hypnotic persuasion of his touch. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and relaxed, letting the soft curves of her body mold to the hard contours of his.

Jake liked the way Hallie felt in his arms, half lying in his lap with her full breasts crushed against his chest. Their bodies fit together like perfectly matched pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

Tightening his arm around her in a fierce hug, he tipped her face up to his, murmuring, “Mistletoe.” Then his mouth claimed hers with exquisite slowness.

Never in her most wishful dreams had Hallie imagined that his kiss could taste so sweet. Her lips tingled as he gently moved his mouth against hers, and when he caught her lower lip between his teeth, she shuddered with pleasure. Sensuously, he teased her, alternately nipping and sucking on the sensitive flesh until she twined her arms around his neck to invite him deeper.

Jake's loins tightened at the eagerness of her response. Almost savage now in his need to explore the dark delights of her mouth, he boldly parted her lips with his tongue. With deep, delving thrusts he probed the heated mystery, groaning with pleasure as she pliantly welcomed him. Currents of desire telegraphed throughout his body at the tentative reply of her tongue against his, and he felt himself harden with rampant need.

As his lips grew demanding, so did his arousal and even through the heavy layers of her skirts, Hallie could feel its insistent prod. She knew she should escape his embrace, knew she should ignore the way his kisses sent bolts of pleasure streaking through her body. But she didn't have the power to deny his kisses any more than she had the power to deny her love for him.

When Jake at last pulled his lips away, they could only stare at each other in emotion-filled silence—she breathless with desire, he panting heavily with need, and both too stunned by their passion to speak.

“Sir? Madame? Is there some way in which I can be of assistance?” The clerk smiled courteously. He had come in search of a dragon puppet but had discovered the couple embracing behind the theater instead.

Jake felt Hallie start at the man's interruption, and he jerked uncomfortably as her hip rubbed against his engorged sex. Catching his breath sharply, he tightened his arms to still her movement. Damn! Another motion like that and he would lose control completely.

Without loosening his hold or taking his eyes off Hallie's prettily flushed face, Jake tossed the stuffed elephant up to the clerk. “We'll take this.”

The toy hit the clerk squarely in the chest. The man, used to dealing with errant children who were intent on wreaking havoc to his shop, caught it before it tumbled to the ground. With great aplomb, he inquired, “Will this be all, sir?”

“We'll take anything else you think would be appropriate for a four-month-old baby.” Stifling a groan as Hallie squirmed against him again, Jake paused to hiss into her ear, “Unless you want me to disgrace myself right here and now, I'd suggest you sit still.” He pressed his arousal against her hip in warning. With her eyes wide, she nodded and became as still as a statue.

Giving Hallie a crooked smile, Jake returned his attention to the clerk. The man was tactfully staring at the toy elephant and Jake had to clear his throat several times to get his attention. “And the train. We'll take the train.” Pressing his face close to Hallie's, he inquired, “Anything for you, Mission Lady? That box of chemical experiments over there, or perhaps a magic lantern?”

Hallie giggled and shook her head.

Sighing with disappointment, Jake waved the man away.

As the man bustled off to select the appropriate items, Jake pulled Hallie's rakishly askew bonnet straight and asked, “What is it you desire for Christmas, Mission Lady?”

You
, she thought wantonly. But she suppressed her urge and replied, “Snow. It hardly seems like Christmas without it.”

“I agree. I have yet to get used to San Francisco's mild climate myself.”

“And you, Jake. What would you ask of Santa Claus?”

He thought for a moment. “A clue. One that would lead to Serena's murderer. I've turned her death over and over again in my mind. Nothing makes sense.”

“I know. I can't seem to make sense of it either.”

They fell silent, each captured in private thoughts, as Jake struggled to his feet. It was with great care that he managed to brace himself on his stiff left leg. As he reached down to assist Hallie, she peered skeptically at the greenery above his shoulder.

“Why, you wicked man! That's not mistletoe at all. It's plain, ordinary holly.”

Jake looked up and squinted in an exaggerated manner. “Really? It looked like mistletoe to me.” He cocked his head to one side. “You know, Mission Lady, I think you're right.”

Then he swept her into his strong embrace and kissed her again.

When he finally released her, she sputtered, “Why did you do that?”

“Since that wasn't mistletoe, I had to take the kiss back. It was a mistletoe kiss, you see.” Chuckling, he turned to make his way to the counter.

While Jake paid for his purchases and gave instructions for their delivery, Hallie wandered to the front of the shop, stopping to examine the gaily decorated door. When Jake at last joined her, her forgotten medical bag in tow, she threw her arms around his neck with a force that almost knocked him off balance and soundly kissed him.

Grinning with stunned delight, he asked, “And what did I do to warrant such a wonderful treat?”

Hallie grinned back and pointed above his head. “You stood in the right place. That, Mr. Parrish, is mistletoe!”

“Cissy, I need you to hold still while I examine your throat,” pleaded Hallie, pushing aside the sobbing girl's hair to expose the damaged skin at her throat.

At Hallie's touch, Cissy whimpered like a wounded puppy and shrank back against her pillows, staring at her would-be savior with blatant distrust.

Hallie sighed. She really couldn't blame the girl for being wary. Not only had the poor creature been beaten within an inch of her life, she'd had to endure the pain of having her lacerated scalp stitched and her broken ribs bound. She'd behaved quite bravely up until now.

Giving Cissy her most reassuring smile, Hallie promised, “I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to take care of your neck. But I can't unless you cooperate.”

“Ya behave y'self and do as the doc says,” scolded an older woman standing on the opposite side of the bed. The woman, dressed in a black mourning ensemble complete with a widow's veil, tapped her foot impatiently and glared at the cringing figure in the bed.

Fat tears coursed down Cissy's cheeks as she obeyed, leaving tracks of black kohl trailing through the layers of powder and rouge. With the shadow from her lids smudged like bruises around her eyes, and her blood-red lip paste smeared across her chin, she had the look of a boxer who had lost one fight too many. Yet, beneath all the heavy paint, Hallie could see that she was pretty. Young, too. Pathetically so.

“How old are you, dear?” Hallie inquired, bending down to examine the girl's neck.

“Fifteen last month.”

Fifteen and already a seasoned prostitute. The thought made Hallie want to weep. She'd seen many such creatures at the infirmary back home. Riddled with syphilis and broken by life, they were considered old by the age of twenty-five. While many of her fellow doctors refused to treat the women, Hallie reached out to them with compassion. She had cared when others had turned a blind eye, shown mercy while most had condemned, and done her best to give the desperate beings comfort in their otherwise dismal lives. Most important, she had never judged them.

Hallie drew in a sharp breath when she saw the full extent of Cissy's injury.
Lord! Someone had tried to strangle the poor girl!

Like an ominous pendant of black, yellow, and purple, livid bruises ringed the slender throat. The marks darkened brutally over the now pounding pulse point and fanned up the sides of her neck in perfect fingerlike impressions.

“She gonna live, Doc?” inquired the older woman as she lifted her black veil and frowned at the discolored flesh.

Hallie nodded. “I stitched the cut on her head and splinted her right wrist. The wrist doesn't appear to be broken, though it is badly sprained. Unfortunately, Cissy wasn't quite so lucky with her ribs. It appears that two of them were fractured. She's badly bruised and has had a nasty shock. However, she should be fully recovered in several weeks' time.”

“Several weeks? There's gonna be an awful lot of disappointed fellas in San Francisco. Cissy's the most popular gal in the house. Real talented, if ya take my meanin'.”

Hallie did take her meaning, and it was only with the greatest of effort that she managed not to blush. To look at Coralie LaFlume, with her severely coiffed gray hair and demure black gown, one would never have guessed her to be the madame of San Francisco's most notorious brothel. Why, she looked about as wicked as a grandmother at a church social. Yet there was something in the way she looked at a person, her gray eyes shrewdly assessing, that left little doubt as to the sharpness of the mind beneath the amiable exterior. And those eyes were now as hard as nails as she stared at Hallie.

“Jist think of the bundle we'll lose!” she exclaimed. “Ya sure Cissy needs several weeks? After all, she works on her back, if ya take my meanin'.”

“Uh, yes. I understand Cissy's—um—duties. However, the ribs will take a while to heal and she shouldn't be jostled around—if you take
my
meaning.” Seeing Coralie and Cissy's faces fall with disappointment, Hallie suggested, “Perhaps, when she feels up to it, Cissy could work at one of the gaming tables downstairs. That shouldn't do her any harm—provided she sits.”

Coralie brightened perceptibly at that notion. Carelessly twisting a corner of her veil, she mused, “Smart idea, Doc. The fellas'll see Cissy dealin' the cards and they'll get real itchy. 'Specially when they learn they cain't have her. Why, after a few weeks of teasin', they'll be willin' ta pay twice her usual price.”

Cissy smiled and nodded in agreement. The girl actually seemed taken by the idea.

As she rubbed her hands together in anticipation, the madame chuckled. “Ya know, Doc, if ya ever get tired of pokin' around that musty old Mission House and want a real excitin' time, why, ya come talk ta Coralie LaFlume. Sure could be usin' a smart gal like ya 'round here.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” Hallie held a measure of laudanum to Cissy's lips, smiling as the girl obediently drained the cup. As she tucked the blankets around her patient's shoulders, she asked, “Who did this to you, dear?”

“Ain't never seen his face.”

Hallie let out a snort of disbelief. “How could you—”

“Strange man, that 'un,” cut in Coralie, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting Cissy's golden curls in an affectionate manner. “Ain't none of us seen him. Never comes himself. Sends some nasty-tempered China fella to fetch the gals.”

“But surely someone has seen his face? I mean considering the intimate nature of your business.”

“Nah. He always keeps his face covered.” Coralie shook her head in a perplexed manner. “Most fellas like some kissin'. But not this 'un. He likes it quick and with his clothes on. Why, he won't even let a gal touch his—well, ya know—unless she's wearin' special gloves. Red silk ones with fancy diamond buttons.”

That caught Hallie's attention. “Red silk, you say?”

Coralie nodded. “With fancy buttons.”

“And your girls don't object?”

“The fella pays real good.” With a sly grin, Coralie added, “'Course, he has ta, considerin' his special tastes.”

“Special tastes?”

“Yep. Likes to be switched, if ya take my meanin'.”