Sullivan

by Linda Devlin

  "Would you open Mr. McClure's door for me, please?" she whispered, her voice wavering slightly.

  "That's his soup?" Sullivan asked.

  She smiled up at him again, the kiss not forgotten but lingering in her eyes. "I made a big pot. Go downstairs and get yourself a bowl."

  He opened Grady's door and got quite a shock. The room was clean, the window was open to allow a fresh breeze to waft in. And Grady smiled as Eden entered the room.

  "That smells good," the geezer said weakly.

  "It is good," Eden insisted, "and I expect you to eat every drop."

  Grady's smile dimmed as his gaze lit on Sullivan. "Look at what the girl did for me," he said, tears coming to his faded eyes. "She put fresh sheets on the bed, and made me some kind of godawful sweet tea, and fussed at me every time I said goddamn it."

  "Mr. McClure," Eden said sternly, "please don't use such language."

  "See what I mean?" Grady asked fondly. "She's an angel, come to take care of me while I die."

  "I'll have no talk of dying," Eden insisted as she sat beside Grady's bed and lifted a spoonful of soup to his mouth.

  In truth, Grady really was dying. He'd been going downhill for months, looking smaller and older with every passing day. Until today, he hadn't grown any less disagreeable. Eden seemed to bring out the best in the old man.

  Sullivan watched her feed the ailing man, content, for the moment, just to be in the same room with her. Just to watch her feed an old codger soup. Every move she made was graceful; every word she said so sweet the sound of her voice made him ache.

  He wanted her. Jedidiah Rourke be damned, he wanted Eden with everything he had, in a way he'd never wanted anything before. He craved her, he needed her, and another kiss over steaming soup was not going to be enough. Having her would likely cost him everything he held dear: his home, his friends, maybe even what little heart he had left. Surely a woman was not worth such sacrifice. Not even this one.

  She lifted her head and smiled at him. She said so much with a smile, with her eyes. No one had ever looked at him this way before, and likely never would again.

  "Go get yourself a bowl of soup, Sinclair. You look like you could use a little nourishment, yourself."

  Yep, he wanted her bad. He needed her, and one way or another he was going to have her.

  * * *

  She hadn't intended to spend her first full day in Rock Creek doing laundry in a tub just outside the hotel kitchen door, and cooking and caring for a sick old man, and cleaning, but as far as Eden was concerned she had no choice. This was her home now, and she was determined to make it a suitable place for the children.

  She'd never worked so hard, and by the end of the day she was exhausted. It wasn't a bad feeling, she acknowledged. She had accomplished something today; she'd made this place a little bit her own.

  Less than an hour earlier she'd tucked the children into clean beds. Teddy now slept on a small cot instead of a pallet on the floor, and Millie was deep asleep in the same bed Eden herself would crawl into later. Once she was sure they were sound asleep, she'd turned out the lamp and come downstairs for a breath of air and a quiet moment alone.

  The front of the hotel faced the saloon, and she had no desire to watch the comings and goings of that sinful place. Besides, watching a saloon was surely no way to find peace and quiet.

  Beyond the rear door of the lobby was a small enclosed area. There had once been a garden here, but the area was dry and barren and as untended as the rest of the hotel. A rickety old bench had been placed against the wall, and this is where she sat. The quiet was blissful, and after a long day of hard work simply sitting still was a pleasure.

  What a shame that the hotel had been neglected for so long. She could imagine this as a wonderful place to sit at the end of the day, if there were roses blooming. With a proper flower garden, there would be morning birds everywhere, she imagined, making it a nice place to have a cup of tea or coffee before a busy day began. Instead the garden area was brown and lifeless, devoid of color and the fragrance that should fill the air.

  Sitting on the bench and allowing her muscles to relax, she leaned against the hotel wall and closed her eyes. It had been an exhausting, trying day, but one small moment had carried her through it on a cloud. Sin had kissed her again. In the hallway, over a bowl of soup, he'd leaned forward and taken her mouth with his. He'd kissed tenderly, longingly, sweet with just a touch of wickedness. He must care for her, at least a little, to kiss her that way.

  "What are you doing out here?"

  She smiled and opened her eyes at the sound of that familiar voice. Thinking about you. "Nothing," she said, turning her head to glance at Sin as he stepped through the door and closed it behind him. "Just resting. And thinking," she added, to be honest.

  He sat down beside her, making the bench rock slightly. Strange, how comfortable it felt to have him sit so close to her. She felt as if she'd known Sinclair Sullivan forever, not just for a few days.

  "Pretty night," he said, looking up to the clear sky. A soft breeze brushed back the long strands of dark hair to reveal his face in moonlight. Why did the sight of that face make her heart leap into her throat?

  "Yes," she said. "Very pretty."

  "You're probably worn out," he said. "You were busy all day."

  "I was," she said. "And I am tired, a little, but I don't mind. I like to stay busy, and there's plenty to be done here."

  She could tell, even in the near dark, that he was nervous, maybe even as nervous as she.

  "I'm not complaining," he said. "The soup was good. The best I've had in a long while."

  With the cool breeze wafting about, the moonlight shining on them, and the privacy of the enclosed and neglected garden, Eden felt strangely bewildered. She'd traveled for weeks to get to this strange place, and now she was here, in a place she was determined to make her home, and she had no idea what would happen next.

  She did know that this man was special to her. Looking at him made her heart beat fast, and remembering the kisses they'd shared made her tingle from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Sin was unexpected, unplanned. A gift, perhaps.

  As she watched him she decided Rock Creek, with its unostentatious appearance and busy saloon and horrid hotel, was a wonderful place. It was wonderful because Sin was in it.

  "Aren't you going to kiss me?" she whispered boldly, afraid he'd sit silently beside her all night long without so much as looking in her direction.

  He turned to face her, his eyes no longer on the stars. "Do you want me to?"

  She nodded, and he very slowly lowered his face to hers. She closed her eyes as his mouth covered hers, wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he put his arms around her, fell against him an instant later.

  Her heart beat fast, as she lost herself in the power of a kiss. Her breasts pressed against Sin's hard chest, and it seemed right and true that they hold each other so close and tight that she could barely breathe. He was strong, but what she felt was more than the physical strength in his body. She sensed a strength that came from deep inside, from his heart and his soul. She felt that strength encompass her, and it was a marvelous sensation.

  Her fingers speared through his long hair, and she held his lips against hers as his tongue danced in and out of her mouth, the motion so light and fleeting it left her breathless and wanting more.

  "Sin," she whispered. "Do you mind if I call you Sin?"

  "You can call me anything you want," he said breathlessly, as he claimed her mouth again.

  Sin was restless; his body shifted against hers. He lowered one hand and lovingly caressed her hip, a familiar touch that made her shudder all over again. His hand settled on her thigh, and while she knew she should tell him to move it, that it wasn't proper that he rest his hand there, she wouldn't risk taking her mouth from his to deliver the order. Not just yet.

  Eventually he moved the hand on his own, raking it up her ribs to barely touch the side of her breast. At
her sharp intake of breath he clamped his mouth ever tighter to hers and kissed her so deep she went weak in the knees. Her protest died on her lips, and his.

  He began to tilt her backward, slowly but surely, until his long hard body hovered over hers and she was all but lying on the bench with Sin above her.

  He took his mouth from hers. With his face in shadow and his hair falling like a curtain around it, she could see nothing of his features. "I want you," he whispered hoarsely. "More than I've ever wanted anything. Come to my bed. Tonight. Now."

  "Oh, Sin," she whispered. She closed her eyes. It would be so easy to say yes... easier than she'd ever imagined. "I can't."

  "You can," he breathed against her mouth. "I know you want me, too. I can feel it. I can see it."

  "Maybe I do, but..."

  "That's enough," he insisted. "That's all we need. I want you; you want me..."

  "We're not... We're not married," she said, embarrassed to be stating the obvious at a moment like this. "It isn't right."

  "Married?" he repeated. They came up a little, out of their almost-lying position.

  "Well, people who go to bed together are supposed to be married first, you know."

  They were sitting up again. "Some of them are," he agreed.

  She didn't want to admit to Sin, or to anyone else, that her knowledge of what happened after the kissing was inadequate, at best. Her mother had died when she was ten years old, long before such information was shared between a mother and daughter. Her stepfather had certainly not offered any such knowledge. And the one time she'd worked up the nerve to ask their cook, Hallie Smithers, for details, the woman had offered no more than a prim, You'll find out on your wedding night, as is right and proper.

  No one had ever told her she'd be swept away by a kiss, and come very close to making a colossal mistake.

  "I understand that things are different here, but no matter where I happen to be, I know who I am," she whispered. "There's no use pretending to be someone else." She reached up to touch his cheek. "I don't take what I shouldn't have because I"—she swallowed hard—"because I crave it."

  "I do," Sin whispered. "I see what I want and I take it."

  In her current position, she should be frightened by those words. But she wasn't frightened at all. She could never be afraid of Sinclair Sullivan.

  "I can't dismiss everything I know and believe in simply because you make me feel so good." Oh, and he did make her feel good.

  He groaned, but continued to hold her.

  "If nothing else, how can I forget what happened to Millie's mother?"

  He lifted his head and looked down at her.

  "Perhaps she felt just this way when she gave herself to Millie's father, whoever he was. Perhaps she sat outside on a cool autumn night and allowed herself to be swept away by the moon and a kiss and the thud of her heart. For her foolishness she ended up raising a child alone, taking in laundry and doing goodness knows what else to feed her child and keep a roof over their heads. She was younger than I am now when she had Millie. A couple of months ago she died of a bout of pneumonia she should have been able to fight at her age. I think she just gave up, in the end."

  Sin's hands dropped, and he slowly moved away.

  "I won't put myself, or a child, in that position," Eden whispered. "Millie has had to pay, every day of her life, for her mother's misfortune. It's unfair, but no less true. I can't... I won't..." she stammered.

  "You're saving yourself for marriage," Sin said gruffly, rescuing her from further inadequate explanations.

  "Yes. You can call me prudish, if you'd like, but I don't see it that way." She reached up and allowed her fingers to slip through his hair. "I just think it's important that I live my life properly, the way my mother expected me to." She lowered her voice. "I think it's important that I remember who I am."

  Sin leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead. It was warm, almost sweet, but that kiss lacked the fire of his earlier caress. "Too bad. We coulda been good together. Real good."

  Doing the right thing didn't feel so wonderful at the moment. As Sin stood, it felt like a loss of some kind. She expected him to stalk away, to turn his back on her and dismiss her and her annoying morals without another thought. To her surprise, he placed his hand on her cheek and traced it softly.

  "This will never work," he said softly. "You're looking for forever, and I'm just looking for a little fun."

  Her heart sank, like a stone that settled uncomfortably in her stomach. What had she expected? That he'd ask her to marry him here and now?

  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  He gave her a pained smile. "Never apologize for being a lady, Eden Rourke. Never apologize for being who you are. Don't get me wrong. Right now I wish you could forget about what's right and fair and let me take you to my bed and show you that fun I'm looking for. I'm a selfish bastard and I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. I want you so much I can't think of anything else.

  "But the truth of the matter is, the world would be a better place if there were more people like you in it."

  He turned abruptly and walked away, stepping through the door and into the lobby, returning the way he'd come. And as he closed the door Eden knew, without a doubt, that she loved him.

  Chapter 6

  Sullivan had an idea he'd be spending a lot of time in Cash's saloon, as long as Eden was in town. It was bad enough to be forced to see her now and again, but to sleep under the same roof and not be able to touch her, well, that was flat-out torture.

  His dilemma was a temporary one, he knew. If Eden didn't decide soon enough that Rock Creek wasn't the place for her, then her brother was sure to toss her over his shoulder and forcibly carry her back to Georgia.

  How did she know just what to say to make him back away without a fight? He could've argued, quite well, with her theory that she couldn't take that which was not rightfully hers. He could convince her that they didn't have to be married to share a bed, no matter what her mother had taught her. But the story about Millie's mother had stopped him cold.

  Eden couldn't possibly know that he'd paid for his mother's misfortune all his life, that he knew what it was like to live with an infamy you had no control over, no power to fight.

  Just as well. Eden Rourke was a fine woman, and she had no business passing her time with a man like Sinclair Sullivan. Not tonight. Not ever. And still, he wanted her so much he hurt.

  "From the look on his face, I'd say things did not go well for Mr. Sullivan this evening," Cash drawled in a low voice as he leaned against the long, polished bar.

  "Go away," Sullivan replied, no insult intended by the remark, and none taken judging by the way Cash grinned crookedly.

  "Let me guess," Cash said softly. "You foolishly made your move on Jed's sister and she showed you the door."

  "Close enough," Sullivan muttered.

  Cash made a low noise in his throat and demanded a bottle of the finest whiskey from his well-trained bartender. They waited until the bottle had been deposited before them and Yvonne had moved down the bar before resuming their conversation.

  "Women," Cash said, calling on his wisest voice, since he considered himself an expert on the subject, "are fickle creatures. While it is my most ardent suggestion that you keep yourself the hell away from Miss Rourke, if you choose to ignore that advice and move forward you must do so with some considerable caution. She's not a saloon girl, you know. You need a plan."

  "What does that mean?" Sullivan asked tiredly.

  "Succinctly, it means court her, promise her whatever she wants, screw her, and then get the hell out of town before her brother returns."

  Sullivan rotated his head slowly to see if Cash had one of his trademark grins in place. Surely he was kidding! Apparently, the man was deadly serious.

  "I can't do that. Eden's a nice girl." Unfortunately for him, that was the truth.

  Cash tossed back a half glass of whiskey and then slammed his glass on the bar. "God sav
e us from nice girls," he muttered. "Trust me," he said, his voice just a little bit louder than before, "inside every nice girl there's a soul-stealing bitch just waiting to be set free."

  Sullivan shook his head. "Eden's not like that."

  Cash rotated slowly and leaned against the bar. "You want a woman, Sullivan?" He looked smug, at home, at ease in the saloon that was his home. "You never avail yourself of the local talent. Why is that?"

  "I live here." As far as he was concerned, that was explanation enough. Hell, he was in this saloon almost every day when he was in Rock Creek. He didn't want any ties here, any obligations. Not even with a prostitute.

  "So you prefer to take your pleasures elsewhere," Cash said, seeming to understand. "I can understand that." He wrinkled his nose. "Well, not really. Where's your sense of community? Don't you think we should do all we can for the local economy?"

  "Not really."

  "Look around you," Cash said, his smile creeping back, "and pick one. I'm very selective about the women I allow to take up residence above stairs. And I don't take a penny of the money they bring in, so I don't want you to think I have any ulterior motives in pressing you in their direction."

  "You know," Sullivan said, anxious to change the subject, "this is not your place."

  Cash raised haughty eyebrows. "The coward who owned it ran off when El Diablo showed up, and he never returned. What am I supposed to do? Sit around and allow a perfectly good saloon to go to waste?"

  "That would never do," Sullivan mumbled.

  Cash ignored his sarcasm and lifted a hand to gesture casually, the lace at his cuff swaying. "Laurel's a sweetheart," he said, pointing out the brunette at the opposite end of the bar. "And she's very"—he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly—"energetic. Ethel," he said, turning his head to the table where the blonde sat on a gambler's knee, "is as nice a girl as you'd ever want to know. She's new. Showed up one day at the door looking for work, and I simply could not make myself turn her away. She makes a lot of noise, though," he said with a frown. "Likes to talk all the damn time, even when... Well, given that you don't usually talk much at all, I'd look elsewhere if I were you. Then there's Kate," he said, his frown slowly transforming into a sly smile as he watched the redhead climb the stairs with another customer. "The woman has got the finest tits I've ever had the pleasure of fondling. And she knows how to keep her pretty mouth shut. Unless of course..."