Wildfire in His Arms

by Johanna Lindsey

  “No. Either foolhardy—or too courageous.”

  She chuckled. “Then you haven’t given it enough thought. If you want the truth, I’m usually too angry at you to feel anything else.”

  He shook his head. “Fear isn’t an exclusive emotion. You can be angry and too afraid to do anything about it.”

  “Ha! You know that ain’t so in my case.”

  True. She’d attacked him with her fists repeatedly, kicked him several times, thrown her boots at him, lambasted him vocally, and snarled her rage and frustration at him. She wore her heart on her sleeve, expressing her emotions, but none of them had been fear. Right now her expression showed that she was delighted by his curiosity—which he should have kept to himself.

  Her answer hadn’t been satisfying. Payback for all the times he hadn’t answered her? Or she was learning from him how to avoid a subject she didn’t want to discuss.

  He turned to look out the window again to let her know he was done with her avoidance antics. He heard the door to the small water closet open and close. He was surprised the room even had one, when it didn’t offer a bathing room as well. The hotel was new, so it should have offered that convenience. But perhaps some of the businesses had been hit hard financially when they’d had to rebuild after the fire he’d heard about. The tub didn’t even have a screen. That was going to be ­interesting. . . .

  She stepped out of the water closet. “What’s taking them so long to deliver the water you ordered?”

  “My guess would be that they’re heating it,” he said without turning.

  She came to stand next to him at the window. He glanced down at the top of her head. Her hair had felt like silk when he’d touched it last night after she fell asleep. Best not to think of that. And she was no longer draped in the sheet. She’d found the shirt she’d been wearing yesterday and put it back on. He didn’t mention the clean one he had for her since she would be bathing soon.

  Then she surprised him by getting back to his question. “You know, I’m not really sure why you don’t frighten me, fancy man, but I’ll speculate if you like. It might be because you’re so handsome I don’t see much beyond that. Or it could be because it became clear to me you’re not a murderer. There were a few times you could’ve shot me but you didn’t. But mostly it’s because you didn’t hit me when you started to that night up in the hills, which told me clearly that you won’t hurt a woman. My guess would be, that’s your answer.”

  Degan didn’t hear much beyond her saying he was handsome and was surprised by how much it pleased him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  MAX SAW JACOB REED riding past the hotel. He was alone, and in no hurry, perusing both sides of the street. A lot of ­people were out there going about their business. He appeared to be glancing at each of them, not that someone such as Degan couldn’t be spotted a block away, if that was whom Reed was looking for. And from what Degan had said, she didn’t doubt Reed was doing just that. But why was he alone? Or did he think Degan wouldn’t remember him? That was a possibility because there wasn’t anything distinctive about the man. He had shaggy brown hair and a bushy mustache and was lean, and not very tall. But his white stallion certainly was memorable.

  “Your friend appears to be looking for someone.”

  “He’s not a friend.” Degan sounded distracted. Was he still dwelling on their conversation? She was still amazed they’d actually had one! Or did her mention of Reed bring back his anger from last night when she’d admitted she wouldn’t mind seeing him in a gunfight? She might as well ask.

  “Are you done being angry at me?”

  “Do I look angry?”

  She snorted. As if she didn’t know that his appearance offered no clue about what he was feeling—usually. She glanced to the side to remind him, “You shouldn’t have gotten so touchy over my wanting to see you in action. It’s not like I’m not sure you’d win.” Then she grinned. “Except maybe against me.”

  “Go ahead, get your gun.”

  “Really?”

  “You know where it is.”

  She was far too delighted to prove her point to wonder why he’d allow it. She rushed across the room to get her gun belt and strapped it on, then dug into his valise for her Colt and slid it into the holster before turning to face him. He’d turned around but was still by the window, bright light behind him, a disadvantage for her, but she could still see his gun and that he’d moved his jacket back to clear it. She was fast, she’d had almost two years to do a lot of practicing. But she’d never been in an actual gunfight, a real showdown, and Degan looked so deadly standing there waiting, cold, utterly dispassionate.

  Max actually began to sweat. This wasn’t as easy as she’d figured it would be. She wanted to be faster than him, but she might not be. And her gun wasn’t loaded, while his was. What if he fired out of habit, without intending to? She might be faster but could still end up dead.

  “Okay, bad idea. Forget it.” She turned around, giving him her back.

  “Suit yourself.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding and dropped her gun back in his valise. Damnit. Showdowns obviously took the kind of guts she only wished she had, and that hadn’t even been a real one! But at least he wasn’t rubbing it in, that she’d backed down. She was a woman, after all. He’d probably expected her to do just that.

  The knock finally came at the door. Degan let the attendants in. There were four of them this time, so they were likely bringing all the water in one visit.

  As soon as they filed back out of the room, Degan told her, “There’s a new shirt for you on the chair.”

  She was surprised. “You bought it for me?”

  “To keep your wounds clean until they heal, although most of the swelling is already gone thanks so that lotion.”

  And his tender ministrations, she thought. That hadn’t been a dream. Degan Grant continued to surprise her. She would have thanked him for his kindness if he didn’t add, “Five minutes, Max, and I’ll be back in here.”

  He wasn’t taking her clothes with him this time? “Ten,” she bargained.

  “Eight and not a minute more.” He stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

  Max didn’t even look toward the window. She still didn’t fancy breaking her neck going out one. But eight minutes wasn’t long for a bath, and she didn’t doubt Degan was waiting right outside the door. She took off her clothes fast and stepped into the tub. This hotel didn’t have fancy creamy soap, but the soap bars it provided were shaped like flowers and sweet smelling, so Max didn’t break out her stash of the other soap. She quickly washed from top to bottom.

  Stepping out of the tub, she frowned when she realized she was going to have to put on the same pants she’d worn yesterday, but at least she had a clean shirt thanks to Degan. When she donned it, she found that it fit too snugly, which wouldn’t do at all. No, it would have to do. She’d just fasten her vest today instead of leaving it open as she usually did.

  She needed more clothes, obviously, or less time in hotels and more time in a camp by a lake or river so she could wash what she had. Traveling with someone who would be doing all the leading wasn’t going to give her time for the things she needed to do. But she couldn’t afford more clothes. Anytime she got money in her trades, she spent it on more ammunition. Besides, she wouldn’t be making any money while she was with Degan because he wouldn’t let her hunt.

  She was still drying her hair when Degan reentered the room and headed straight for the tub. He hadn’t relocked the door. She thought that was curious until she saw him place his gun on the towel stand within reach of the tub. So she was back to guessing if he would really shoot her if she bolted while he was buck naked. He should have locked the door instead of tempting her like this!

  She watched him as he undressed until he got to his pants. Her eyes widened when she realized he was going to drop them knowing full well she was still looking at him.

  She turned away from
him. “I should wait in the hall like you did.”

  “No.”

  “This isn’t appropriate.”

  “Nothing about you is appropriate. Sit down. Turn around. Pretend I’m not naked.”

  Her cheeks lit up. Was he naked now? Or was he at least sitting in the tub so she could look his way again? She didn’t chance it. Instinctively, she knew the sight of him would be branded in her mind forever. She’d seen naked men before, such as the miners she’d encountered at rivers or lakes who had thought nothing about dropping their clothes and walking into the water with other men around. Of course they hadn’t realized she was a female. She hadn’t been embarrassed then. But she wasn’t even looking at Degan now and her cheeks were hot with a blush. It just wasn’t the same when it was a man this handsome—when she wanted to look!

  She looked everywhere but toward his corner, yet she was so flustered that he was undressing behind her that she inadvertently turned and caught a glimpse of him as he added his pants to the pile of clothes behind him. She lost her breath. The sight of his broad, muscular back and firm thighs, and such tight buttocks, brought a wave of heat to her body. For a heartbeat she actually started to put her hand out, wanting to touch him, but she squeezed her eyes shut and turned away. She did not just see that big, beautiful body of his naked. She had to repeat that to herself several times. But she didn’t let out her breath until she heard the water splash, telling her the tub was hiding at least some of him now.

  She still wouldn’t look again. But taking deep breaths as she kept her eyes on the other side of the room eventually brought back a semblance of calm. He wouldn’t need to shave when he was done bathing. Apparently, he’d done that before he went out while she’d been asleep. She felt slightly relieved, knowing that he’d get dressed as soon as he got out of the tub and not stand there half-naked while he shaved.

  “Are we going to hole up here till Jacob Reed leaves town? Or long enough for me to wash my clothes?”

  “No.”

  “But he’s out there looking for you right now. You did notice that, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “If he’s got any sense a’tall, he’ll check the hotels for you next.”

  “I don’t sign registers. And I’ve already warned the staff to forget they saw me.”

  “It’s big news that you’re in town. Do you really think they won’t brag that you’re staying at their hotel?”

  “People don’t usually cross me.”

  She could believe that. Chattering was helping her ignore that he was naked, so she kept it up. “I still need a day to wash my clothes. What’s the point of bathing if I have to wear dirty clothes? Any body of water will do if we’re not staying here.”

  “You can turn around now, Max.”

  She glanced over her shoulder cautiously, then turned. His wet hair was slicked back, but he was dressed again, and his gun was back on his hip where it usually was. It occurred to her that he needed to have his clothes washed, too. His valise might be a nice size, but she’d looked inside it and knew it wasn’t stuffed to the brim with clothes.

  His gray eyes swept over her before he said, “We need to find a dress for you that you can wear before we enter a town.”

  She snorted. “I don’t think so. I can’t wear one on the trail, so what’s the point?”

  “I said before we enter a town.”

  She shook her head at him. “Too much trouble, and you still didn’t say why.”

  “To keep you from getting arrested or shot by some bounty hunter.”

  “I can keep my head down like I always do. No one’s gonna recognize me.”

  “This is my decision, not yours.”

  She gave him a mulish look. “It ain’t your decision if I won’t put it on.”

  “I might find it interesting to do it for you.”

  She gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

  “You were hoping things would get interesting, or is my getting shot the only thing you find interesting?”

  He would dress her. Because he was still mad at her for implying last night that she’d like to see him in action. Or maybe not. Had that been humor in his tone?

  He put his hat on. “Let’s go.”

  She gritted her teeth over those same two annoying words of his. “Can you at least add a little something to that? Like, ‘Let’s go to the train station’? Or, ‘Let’s go back to Helena’? Or, ‘Let’s go have breakfast’? Anything that might indicate where we’re going?”

  “Does it really matter where we’re going?”

  She raised her chin. “It does when I’m hungry.”

  “Do you really think I won’t feed you?”

  That tiny note of humor was there again, just the slightest indication in his tone, and this time she was sure. She gave up, well aware that he’d still managed not to say where they were going.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “THERE ARE A NUMBER of towns between here and Billings. We can pause long enough in one to find a laundress.”

  Max wasn’t surprised to hear Degan finally volunteer that information. They were eating, which was the one time he didn’t mind talking.

  The hotel restaurant was a little more than half-filled with other guests or townsfolk. Only two tables had emptied when Degan entered the room. Max was delighted to find a variety of choices for the morning meal. She would have liked to try one of everything if she thought she could eat it all. She settled on sausage, eggs, and half a steak.

  “Why Billings?” she asked.

  “We’ll be catching the train there.”

  “I thought you didn’t like riding them.”

  “I don’t when I’m not on a time schedule. Right now there’s someplace I need to go, and the Northern Pacific could get robbed while we’re on it. It will save me having to search all over Dakota for where Nolan is holed up.”

  It was beginning to sound as if she was going to be in his company for a long time. It could take more than a week just to get to Billings. But after he got Nolan, if he got Nolan, he’d have arrested two outlaws and would have to decide if she was going to be the third. So she should probably be glad they were going on a long trip. Lots more chances for her to slip away.

  “Oh, hell no,” Degan suddenly snarled under his breath.

  Max was startled to hear some real anger in his voice, even if his expression didn’t show a bit of it. At least his ire wasn’t directed at her this time. She glanced over her shoulder to see what he was looking at. Her again? The pretty, dark-haired woman was dressed just as fancy as she’d been in Helena. But today her dress, jacket, and hat were three different shades of blue. Her adorable little hat had no useful brim that would shade her from the sun. It was purely decorative. Max didn’t doubt that every woman in the dining room envied the young woman and wished she could wear something that frivolous and pretty. Max sighed to herself.

  The young woman approached their table and sat down. Getting a better look at her, Max realized she wasn’t just pretty, she was beautiful. And utterly brazen to sit down at their table without an invitation.

  “How far are you going to make me chase you, Degan?” she asked petulantly.

  “I’m not making you do anything, Allison. And I warned you, I have nothing to say to you.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He stood up and nodded at Max to do the same. She gave her plate, only half-empty, a wistful glance, but got up quickly before he yanked her up.

  “Degan, wait,” Allison said in frustrated tones as he started out of the room. “Your father—”

  “Is alive. I’ve already confirmed it. So whatever game you’re playing ends here.”

  He didn’t even stop as he said that, but the woman persisted. “A man doesn’t have to be dead not to be who he was. He—”

  Max couldn’t hear the rest of what she was saying as they left the hotel. But the woman wasn’t giving up. She followed him outside and yelled, “Degan
Grant, come back here!”

  He continued walking to the stable on the corner of the next block, while Max was trying to look behind them. Fancy lady looked fit to be tied. Max wasn’t surprised. The lady was too pretty to be used to being ignored.

  “Degan, stop!” she yelled again. “You have to hear me out!”

  Max rolled her eyes. “If no one else knew you were in town, they all do now. Are you really going to let her continue shouting your name like that?”

  He didn’t reply, but the damage was already done. Max saw Jacob Reed step off the boardwalk up the street and start walking down the middle of the street toward Degan. He was still alone—or was he? He’d had four men with him when they’d seen him on the road to Butte yesterday. Max glanced around quickly but didn’t see any of his friends now. Then she did. Reed must have found out where Degan was staying and set his men up for this ambush ahead of time. She knew those hotel employees wouldn’t be able to keep their mouths shut about such an infamous gunfighter staying in their hotel.

  “There’s a man on the roof up ahead with a rifle pointed at you,” she warned Degan. “This is an ambush.”

  “I know. I’ve already spotted two others.”

  “But that one is out of your range, while you’re not out of his.”

  “It might not matter if I kill Jacob first. This is his fight, not theirs.”

  This really wasn’t the time for him to sound so damn calm or to make guesses. And where was the fourth man? The street was already starting to clear. Two men walking toward each other like this was a dead giveaway of what was about to happen. And “might not” didn’t work for her.

  “Don’t you think it would be better to take cover?”

  “You are. Get back in the hotel and do it fast.”

  She didn’t need to be told twice and started running to the hotel. Fancy lady wasn’t doing the same. She was still following Degan, holding her skirt up daintily just a few inches off the ground, keeping her eyes down to make sure she didn’t step in manure. So she probably didn’t know what was happening and might not guess until the first shots were fired.