Gunslinger: A Six Guns and Prairie Roses Novel

by Cynthia Breeding

  ♦◊♦

  The moment his lips touched hers, Abby’s world started to spin. She suddenly felt off-balance, light-headed, and like her legs had turned into bread dough. She clutched Luke’s shoulders to steady herself, and then realized she had drawn herself up and he’d pulled her tight against him. Instead of reflexively pushing away like she always did whenever any man tried to embrace her, she found herself leaning in. His arms around her felt strong and steady, just like the beat of his heart.

  Not to mention his mouth. Who knew that a man’s lips could be so gentle, yet feel so firm? And warm. Well, maybe some women did, but Abby had never allowed herself to be kissed before. Really kissed. And Luke was really kissing her.

  His lips brushed softly against hers, teasing her into wanting more. Then he pressed more firmly, coaxing her into parting her own. He sucked her lower lip between his teeth and then swept his tongue across the wetness leisurely, slowly, as though he was savoring fine wine. It tickled and tingled and sent strong sensations vibrating through her body. As he touched the tip of his tongue to hers, playfully battling it, something clenched low in her belly, and when he delved deeper into her mouth to explore it fully, an odd throbbing began between her legs.

  A knock on the door to the office brought Abby to her senses as thoroughly as though she’d been doused with a bucket of cold water. Luke released her, but his eyes were dark with desire as he turned away.

  “Come in.” His voice held a hint of irritation.

  She was glad he was the one who spoke, because she wasn’t at all certain she was capable of anything but a mere squeak at the moment. Somehow, while they had been kissing, he’d backed her against the desk. She was grateful now for its support since she wasn’t at all sure her legs worked.

  John stepped inside and looked around. “Everything all right in here?”

  Luke frowned. “Why shouldn’t it be?”

  “I thought I heard a ruckus in here.”

  “That was a chair being overturned and the ledger falling.” Abby had managed to find her voice. “A scorpion almost bit me.”

  “A scorpion? Did it get away?” His glance fell to the floor when the insect lay smashed. “Ah, I can see it didn’t.”

  “Hopefully, there aren’t any more,” Abby said.

  “Probably not.” John shrugged. “I’ve never seen one in the store before.”

  “Still. I’ll send someone over to do a thorough cleaning and check on the office,” Luke said as he picked up his hat. “I’ve got to go.”

  “But we aren’t finished,” Abby protested, then felt her cheeks heat as she realized how that sounded. Maybe Luke hadn’t caught the unintended innuendo? The thought had no more than popped up when she knew she was wrong. From the way a corner of his mouth—that delectable, delicious mouth that did devilish things to her—quirked up, she knew he had. She swallowed.

  “We still have business to conclude.”

  His eyes darkened to cognac again. “Indeed, we do. And I shall look forward to finishing it.” He put his Stetson on. “But it will have to wait.”

  And then he was gone. Abby stared at the empty doorway. He had effectively put the business expansion on hold, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about that when he said he looked forward to finishing “it”.

  She just wondered how long she would have to wait.

  ♦◊♦

  As he walked quickly toward the stable, Luke knew he had to get away before he concluded what he had started back at the store. Lucifer’s horns! What had happened to his iron-will resolve? And, especially, what had happened to his ability to keep his emotions in check? After Belle, he’d sworn he’d never let another female evoke anything more than physical passion from him—fleeting, feel-good-while-it-lasted—lust. Pleasure the woman. Satisfy his own needs. Easy and simple.

  He doubted anything would be easy and simple—or fleeting—with Abby. His intention had been to give her a simple kiss. Just savor a small taste of her while calming her nerves. Instead, what had started out as slow and easy had erupted into a wildfire quicker than lightning ignited a field of dry hay.

  Keeping his distance for two weeks hadn’t worked. Obviously, thinking that a kiss would quench his feelings was not the right approach, either. That had only whet his appetite for much more. Hellfire. The woman was driving him “plumb loco” as the cowboy on the rodeo circuit who’d sold him Diablo had said, only he’d been talking about the horse.

  By the time Luke reached the Occidental Hotel, his mind was beginning to function normally again, even if images of Abby’s kiss-swollen lips and blue-eyes-turned-violet with desire flashed through his brain. He took a deep breath as he entered the lobby. He could control his mind, at least.

  “This was left for you.” The clerk at the front desk handed him a sealed envelope.

  “Thanks.” There was no return address, only his name scrawled across the front, but the Pinkerton agency only used proper letterhead when it was sending out invoices for its services. Tucking the letter into his coat pocket, he took out a coin. “For your trouble.”

  The clerk—a boy who hardly looked old enough to shave—grinned. “The lady who brought it already tipped me. Must be a mighty important letter.”

  “Could be.” He probably thought there was a tryst being arranged. Luke supposed that Isabella, the local agent’s daughter, must have delivered the letter since she ran the office, more-or-less, to her father’s chagrin. He hadn’t really taken notice of whether she was pretty or not. He had a rule about not getting involved with females who worked with Pinkerton’s, although apparently that rule had taken flight, along with his common sense. Still, the kid had a hopeful look on his face and there wasn’t any reason to ruin his little fantasy, whatever it may be. Luke pushed the coin across the counter. “Let’s keep this letter just between you and me.”

  The boy’s grin grew wider and he winked conspiratorially. “I never saw any letter.”

  “Good.” Luke nodded briskly and walked away, forcing himself to keep his pace slow. Once he was inside his room, though, he tore the envelope open, scanned the contents quickly, then took a deep breath and read it again. Slowly. So the words would sink in.

  Forgive the amount of time it took for this investigation, but information on the subject, Miss Abigail Clayton, was difficult to find. However, since Pinkerton’s Agency is known for its due diligence—“We never sleep”—the following are the results of our search.

  The last known address for Subject was a convent in the Bowery area of New York City. Apparently, Subject and a brother named Ben, lived in a tenement project prior to that.

  Brother of Subject was arrested for street robbery eighteen months ago.

  Female partner eluded arrest, but Subject is suspected to be accomplice.

  Brother of Subject was released from prison two weeks ago.

  Subject last seen three months ago and appears to have left the city.

  Luke stared at the words, not sure whether to laugh or to roar at being so thoroughly fooled. The little minx certainly was no well-bred gentlewoman like she’d pretended to be…although that did explain her hesitance in using the right flatware at dinner and serving tea. Not that he cared about any of that. What did stand out, though, was that Abby was suspected of being her brother’s partner in street robbery. That certainly explained why she’d been so adept at noticing the street urchin who’d attempted to snatch her purse. She was a pickpocket. Basically, a thief.

  Again, Luke wondered if Travis Sayer had known that. Had Abby come to California to distance herself from her past or to begin a new career-in-crime by aiding and abetting a scoundrel who was a thief of another sort?

  Warring factions rose in his mind. He didn’t want to believe that the woman who had kissed him so passionately—the one who had managed to unlock the chains around his heart—was a swindler, but then he’d been deceived before. Falling for Belle’s lies had cost his friend his life. He’d do well to remember that. The
only feelings he would allow himself would be purely physical. If Abby Clayton was playing him, time would tell.

  For now, he’d wait.

  At least, Abby hadn’t managed to unwrap his heart’s chains yet. Mentally, Luke snapped the lock back in place, then he reached into the tinder box, struck a match, and lit the letter. Holding it over the cold coals in the brazier, he let it burn until there was nothing left but ash.

  Chapter Ten

  “Ladies.” Luke let his gaze roam slowly over the crowded tea room. “Let me say how pleased I am that so many of you accepted my invitation.” The young widows Rose and Mary batted their eyelashes. He briefly smiled at them before acknowledging the rest of the ladies. “I hope you’ll find today’s information useful.”

  A week had passed since he’d received the letter from Pinkerton’s and decided the best thing he could do for now was his own surveillance…of sorts. That meant, of course, staying close to Abby, which itself created a quagmire of conflicting emotions. At this very moment, he was aware of her presence even though she stood behind him.

  To keep from driving himself completely mad, Luke had decided to take action on the expansion. Or, at least, the pretense of expansion. He had to do something to try and draw the secret accomplice out. Generally, ferreting out criminals that had gone to ground wasn’t that hard. In this case, it might have been easier to find the secret hideout Jesse James used to elude the law.

  As he launched into an explanation of costs and how much his “investors” were willing to fund and what portion of local participation “they” were looking for, he also became aware that John was near the door. The man didn’t actually enter—having voiced his opinion several times that the women sounded like a gaggle of geese—but he kept himself busy near the entrance, no doubt to hear what Luke was proposing. Not that Luke blamed him for wanting to know what the plans were since it affected his livelihood as well.

  “So, basically,” Luke concluded, “depending how many of you are interested in this business venture will determine how much money you’ll have to put up front and what percent of the profit from the Eastern imports you’ll earn each month.”

  One of the older ladies raised her hand. “My husband invested in stocks once. Does this mean we will own shares of the store?”

  “No,” Abby spoke in unison with Luke and he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile before he answered the question.

  “No,” he said again. “Ownership of the physical store will remain the same. You might think of it as Mrs. Sayer’s ‘leasing’ us the land to build the expansion, but she will still own it.” He saw a few confused looks. “The idea is to use the new room exclusively for the Far Eastern imports which profits will be exclusively yours. And, of course, to make those profits grow, the ladies’ social club will also need to expand.” He gestured to the array of competitive goodies on the various small tables. “You might even think about organizing a fair and awarding ribbons.”

  “I like that idea!” one of the other widows said. “I used to win blue ribbons at the county fair in Kentucky before we moved here.”

  “And I won blue ribbons in Indiana,” another said.

  Luke held up a hand before the conversation would turn into a full-fledged bragging competition. “So this discussion has been food for thought. No pun intended.” He picked up his hat to leave. “If today’s discussion interests you, please sign the paper on the counter by the door as you leave and also indicate the amount you’d be willing to invest.”

  He hadn’t expected the women to stampede toward the door, but they did, nearly trampling him in their hurry to get to the counter. Guilt niggled at him before he reminded himself that none of these women would lose a single penny. Then anger took its place, because they were both gullible and vulnerable. Sayer and his damn secret partner had taken advantage of people like them.

  Spreading the word that the same bank who’d handled the sale of the general store would be overseeing the expansion hadn’t seemed to work. And, maybe, the money had already been laundered and the bank had received what seemed to be legitimate funds. Whoever the silent partner was, he was crafty.

  At least, Luke had finally set Plan B into action. Now, he would start visiting the gambling halls and, feigning drunkenness, let his “scheme” to make a killing of raking in money from unsuspecting women be known.

  The accomplice might not be sitting at one of the tables, but a swindler would be willing to take risks—it would be in his blood—and the chances of associating with known gamblers would be high.

  There was more than one way to lure a fox from its hole.

  ♦◊♦

  Two hours later, after the last of the ladies had gone, leaving nothing but crumbs in their wake, Abby gave Delia a tired smile. “Thanks for helping me clean up.”

  “It’s the least I can do since I think I managed to sample one of everything.”

  Abby nodded. “I think I did, too. I’ve got to say, if all else fails, these ladies could open up a bakery and put everyone else out of business.”

  “You might not want to mention that to your man,” Delia said. “I think—”

  “Luke is not my man,” Abby protested. “I must have told you that a hundred times.”

  “Probably more,” Delia said in that unflappable way of hers. “But the lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

  “Doth? Me thinks?” Abby asked as a reason to distract her friend from going down the path of romantic intentions. Again.

  “It’s from Hamlet, the play by Shakespeare.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not acquainted with the man.”

  Delia giggled. “I shouldn’t think so. He’s been dead for three hundred years.”

  “Oh. Well, I haven’t seen the play, either.”

  “I saw it in New York when my husband took me there once,” Delia answered. “Anyway, the line comes when a ‘queen’ insists she would never marry again if her husband dies.”

  Abby gave her a confused look. “My husband is dead. I’ve not even thought of remarrying. And, for sure, Luke has never mentioned it.”

  Delia arched a brow. “You’re blushing.”

  “I am not!”

  “Are.” She waved a dismissive hand. “We’ll see what the future holds.”

  “For now, the future holds a chance for a business extension,” Abby said, thankful for a chance to change the subject. “Maybe we should go see how many ladies signed up.”

  “I think they all did,” Delia said as she followed Abby back into the general store.

  John was studying the list at the counter, but when Abby approached, he quickly looked up and shoved it away. Abby smiled. “Do the prospects look good?”

  His gaze sharpened on her. “Prospects?”

  She pointed to the sheet. “Did most of the women sign up?”

  “Looks like a lot of them did,” he answered.

  As Abby turned the page around to study it, Luke entered from the back entrance. She held up the paper. “You’ll like this.”

  He came over and took it from her. “There must be at least twenty signatures.”

  “Yes, and it looks like many of them are willing to invest a significant amount.”

  Abby turned to John. “Don’t you think so?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t really look at it.”

  “It looked to me like you were studying it,” Delia said.

  He narrowed his eyes slightly. “I was just thinkin’ about all them women being underfoot all the time.”

  Abby laughed. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. I doubt any of them are going to actually help build the expansion.”

  “Of course they won’t,” Luke said, as he folded the paper and put it inside his vest. “It’s getting late, ladies. I’ve got a carriage waiting since Diablo dropped a shoe. May I escort you home?”

  “That’s not necess—”

  “That would be wonderful!” Delia cut in.

  Abby refrained from roll
ing her eyes. Her friend would no doubt try to make something out of Luke’s offer.

  He smiled at them both and opened the front door. “After you.”

  Abby walked through door and started down the short stairs, but as her foot made contact with the second step, the board felt like it slid forward. Her leg buckled and she started to fall, when suddenly, strong hands were at her waist, keeping her from landing on the ground.

  “Are you all right?” Luke asked.

  “Yes.” She glanced at the offending board, only to realize it was in place. She felt like an idiot for slipping, although she had to admit she liked the feel of Luke’s hands catching her. Supporting her.

  And then, she realized he still held her. Delia was eyeing her speculatively, probably wondering if she had done it on purpose. Good Lord! What if Luke thought so, too? Abby’s face flamed. “I’m fine. I just tripped.”

  “Are you sure?” Luke settled her on her feet, but didn’t release his hold. “Try taking a few steps, first.”

  She ignored Delia’s grin, and took a few steps. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “The carriage is around the side. Maybe I should carry you.”

  “I am fine. I was just clumsy.” Criminy. John was looking out the window. It wouldn’t do to have him see Luke pick her up and carry her like she was helpless. She was a business woman. Abby started walking. Fast. Before Luke decided to act like some knight of old.

  His laugh tickled her ear as he leaned close, easily keeping up. “I think you’ve made your point, madam.”

  “I just don’t want you thinking I’m weak.”

  He sobered. “Rest assured. I would never think you weak.”

  Behind her, she heard Delia sigh.

  Thankfully, the carriage was close, saving her from a reply. During the short ride back to the boardinghouse, she made sure to keep the conversation light and casual, even though Delia was giving her pointed looks from where she’d managed to sit across from Abby, forcing Luke to sit beside her. It seemed her friend was bent on playing match-maker.