Cimarron Rose

by Nicole Foster

  “No, you’re right. It’s not.”

  Case strode over the bar, rummaged for a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a generous shot. He tossed it back, hardly feeling it burn its way down his throat.

  He wasn’t being fair or honest with her. But the truth was seeing her and Emily with Jack Dakota, imagining what had gone on before Gar interrupted, had provoked an unexpected and wholly irrational jealous anger in him.

  After the fight to put the past behind him, to bring Emily here, to make the St. Martin succeed, he refused to let anyone come between him and what was his.

  Except he had no right, no reason, to think of Katlyn as his.

  “Why did you come here?” Katlyn’s soft voice broke into his dark reverie.

  Case looked at her, standing a few feet from him as if she was afraid to come any nearer. “Here?”

  “To Cimarron, to this hotel. Why is it so important?”

  “It’s a good investment, don’t you think?” Case said with a derisive laugh. “You know what they say about hotel owners, only born fools and educated idiots choose the business. Maybe I was both, coming here. But it was far enough from Silver Springs.”

  “Why didn’t you stay there, in Colorado?”

  “Why didn’t you stay in St. Louis?”

  Instead of retreating from his caustic retort, Katlyn seemed to give it an honest consideration. “I wanted to get away,” she said at last. “To find a place I belonged.”

  “And you didn’t belong there, even with all your success? I find that hard to believe.”

  Katlyn shrugged, glancing away. She ran her fingers over a tabletop, making idle patterns. “You didn’t answer my question. Why did you come here?”

  “Because of Emily.” Case came around the bar and leaned with his back against it. “I wanted to get her as far away from the past as I could make possible. I understand this country, these people, even the worst of them. I couldn’t go East. Perhaps you can’t understand this, given what you said. But I know where I belong, and I don’t belong anywhere east of the Mississippi.” He tossed a swig of whiskey back. “Not even close.”

  “I do understand,” she said softly. “And I’m envious.”

  “You envious of me? You can’t know how ridiculous that sounds.”

  “Why? Because of the past?”

  “The past—”

  He stopped and Katlyn waited, not daring to press him. She sensed he was weighing what to tell her, deciding if he could trust her with his confidences. Finally, he pushed upright and walked over to her, pulling out a chair for her and taking one opposite her when she sat.

  “I married Emily’s mother believing she was everything she appeared to be, sweet, innocent, sincere. She was the daughter of a family friend, I had no reason to doubt her when she said she loved me and wanted a life together.”

  He flexed a hand against the tabletop. Katlyn felt her breath catch in her throat.

  “A month after we were married, she presented me with her six-month-old daughter. Her lover’s child. She had married me, with her family’s connivance, because she needed a name for her child.” Case gave a harsh laugh, the bitterness in it bringing tears to Katlyn’s eyes. “At least she went that far toward being respectable.”

  “But…you have Emily. What happened to your wife?”

  “I don’t know. She abandoned us a few months later, and several weeks after that she had the marriage annulled. As Emily got older, I realized no one in town would ever forget what had happened, so I left to protect her from being hurt by it.”

  “I can’t imagine…” A tear slid down her face and Case realized she was crying for him and for Emily. “How could she just leave you, her daughter?”

  “Emily is my daughter. No one will ever know differently.”

  It was a clear warning and Katlyn tried to think of something to say to reassure him she would never reveal his confidence to anyone.

  But crowding out all her other thoughts was a sharpened fear of how much more of a risk her deception really was. She had been afraid of simply losing her job and her means of helping her mother.

  Now she feared how much she would hurt Case if he ever discovered her deceit. He’d made it clear from the start how critical honesty was to him. Now she knew why. Even if she meant nothing to him, her dishonesty would scar him, leave him with more reason to fortify the wall he’d built around himself.

  “I didn’t intend to upset you,” Case said. He touched her hand, drawing her gaze back to him.

  “You—you didn’t. I understand now, though, why the hotel’s success is so important to you, why you’re counting so much on my singing.” And not just to him, she thought, thinking of Becky and Bucky, of Sally and the four boys she supported, and Bat, useless as a ranch hand with his maimed hand.

  Case’s fingers rubbed absently over hers, almost a caress. He barely touched her but the warm and rough feel of him sent shivers down her spine. Katlyn willed herself to stay still, to not think of all the times he’d touched her, held her, all the times she’d yearned for more than that brief temptation.

  She had no right to want anything more from him. But reason didn’t rule her longings.

  She stood so quickly her chair tipped precariously backward. Case was suddenly too close and she didn’t want to embarrass herself again by mistaking his kindness for something deeper.

  Case followed her, blocking her retreat. “Why are you running?”

  “I’m not running. I—I should go check on Emily and Jack.”

  He took a step closer so only a hand’s breadth separated them. Katlyn wanted to look away from him, to put distance between them that would give her time to gather her wits, to breathe.

  The unmistakable glint in his forest-green eyes compelled her to stay because it wasn’t kindness or pity she saw there, but desire, pure and strong. It startled her and she had no idea what to do about it.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “Nothing. I’m not afraid.”

  “Then why are you trembling?”

  Very gently, Case brushed his fingertips over her face. It seemed to him he had been looking at her forever, but he had never seen her before now.

  He had been seeing Penelope Rose, the singer he had only known from her letters, and seeing the woman who drove him to distraction with her attempts to change his hotel and his life.

  Tonight he saw Katlyn, who was both, and yet so much more.

  “Maybe you should be afraid,” he said roughly. “We both should be. Because I can’t pretend anymore I don’t want this.”

  He slid his hand into her hair, pushing deep to curve his fingers against her nape and draw her against him, joining his mouth to hers in one fluid motion.

  Katlyn forgot every reason she had for not being with Case like this. His mouth moved over hers, gently at first, as if he wanted to test the feeling between them. Then his tongue brushed against her lips, coaxing them open, and she felt her knees weaken, her senses flame in a breathtaking rush of heat.

  Nothing she’d known before had prepared her for the potency of Case’s kiss. She’d been kissed before but never this deeply, never with this seductive combination of tender and hard, demanding and giving.

  Katlyn spread her fingers over his chest, leaning into him even as his hand against her back pressed her closer.

  Case dragged his mouth from hers long enough to slowly kiss and taste his way from the sensitive point behind her ear down the delicate curve of her throat. When he returned his attention to her lips she made a small breathy sound of pleasure that turned his kiss hard and hot.

  He broke it off suddenly, breathing fast.

  Katlyn clutched the edges of his coat, afraid to let go for fear she’d collapse in a boneless heap at his feet.

  “Please don’t say you’re sorry,” she said. Her voice came out barely more than a whisper.

  “It would be a lie.” Case slid the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, watching her eyes darken to violet wh
en he let his fingers skim lower to explore the delicate line of her jaw, the curve of her throat. “Is this the way you look at Jack?” he murmured.

  Katlyn laughed shakily then, the uproar of feeling inside her finding some release. “Never. Are you jealous?”

  “Never again,” Case said and the low husky sound of his voice made her tremble. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

  He stole whatever reply she might have made by covering her lips with his. And the moment their mouths joined she stole his reason.

  He forgot responsibility, and business, and all his intentions to avoid emotional entanglements. There was only Katlyn, sweet and true and feeling so good in his arms, with her power to tempt him to dare to trust his feelings one last time.

  “I lied to you,” she whispered when they finally separated enough to breathe again.

  The words jarred Case. He stared at her, not sure he wanted to know what she meant.

  Katlyn smiled a little but her eyes reflected uncertainty. Her fingertips brushed his cheek in a quick, fluttering motion. “I am afraid. I’ve never…no one—”

  She stopped, shaking her head, unable to tell him what she felt inside. How could she, when she couldn’t explain it to herself?

  “That’s okay, sweetheart, you scare the hell out of me, too.” He pulled her close against him, pressing his mouth to her temple. “But it’s not enough to keep me away from you.”

  Not yet, Katlyn thought even as she moved further into his arms. Not yet, but oh, how I wish it could be never.

  Chapter Nine

  A tap at the door startled Katlyn from the musical arrangement she’d been working on at the desk in her mother’s room to add to her growing repertoire. “Come in, Mrs. Donaldson,” she said softly, trying not to wake her mother.

  The door opened slowly and Becky poked her head around the corner. “Mrs. Donaldson let me in. I really need to talk to you about—”

  Katlyn jumped from her chair, knocking her sheets of music off the desk. “No! Not here.”

  “Katie? What’s the matter?” Penelope struggled to roll over toward the sound of voices.

  “Nothing, nothing at all.” Katlyn tried to hide the panic in her voice. “Don’t try to sit up. It’s someone from the hotel to see me, that’s all. I’ll only be a moment, I promise.”

  “But I’m sure I heard—”

  “It’s nothing, truly,” Katlyn insisted. She hurried to the door and practically shoved Becky into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind them. Panting, her heart pounding, she struggled to compose herself, knowing how frantic she must appear to Becky. “Did you need something?”

  Betsy studied Katlyn, cocking her head this way and that. “You seem all fussed. Is your friend that sick?”

  Katlyn drew a calming breath. Becky hadn’t seen Penelope. Of course she hadn’t. If she’d so much as caught a single glimpse, even as young as she was she would have recognized the resemblance between mother and daughter.

  “Yes, unfortunately, she is very ill. I didn’t mean to be rude, but she needs absolute quiet.”

  “I’m real sorry, Miss McLain.”

  “Becky, you know you can call me Katlyn.”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s kinda confusin’, with you havin’ all those names and all.”

  “I’m sure it is.” More than you know. “Now, why did you come here? Is something wrong at the hotel?”

  “Not wrong, exactly. It’s just, me and Bucky found out today is Emily’s birthday!”

  Katlyn smiled at Becky’s deliverance of the news as if it were a catastrophe. “That’s not so terrible, is it?”

  “Well, it is—not her havin’ the birthday, I mean, but the party.”

  “What party?”

  “That’s just it! The party Mr. Durham asked me and Bucky to help with.” Now that Becky started with her story, the words came tumbling out. “We ain’t never had a real birthday party and Mr. Durham was askin’ if we’d help fix up one fer Emily. I guess he thought we’d know about stuff like that, but we never had us a birthday party before. We asked Sally and Bat and Tuck, and they said they’d help when they could, but they was busy cleanin’ up after all those cowboys and so I told Bucky I’d ask you. We was hopin’ you’d have some ideas how to do it up right. Oh, Miss McLain you just got to help. We got all this shoppin’ and bakin’ and decoratin’ to do. Mr. Durham give us some money to go buy what we need. ’Ceptin’ we don’t know what we need.”

  Becky looked so piteous Katlyn put an arm around her shoulder and hugged her briefly. “I think I can help. Go on down to the mercantile and tell them about the party. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes and we’ll decide what we need.”

  “Oh, thank you! This is gonna be fun now!” Becky said, her sunny nature restored the moment she had Katlyn’s cooperation. “I knew you’d know what to do.” She turned and skipped downstairs.

  Katlyn went to check on her mother, relieved to find Penelope had fallen asleep despite the unexpected visitor. She made sure Penelope was comfortable, then hurried out after Becky.

  Here was her chance to do something for Case and Emily beyond her work at the hotel and she jumped at it. Somewhere in her heart, she realized she welcomed the chance because it brought her closer to them.

  Her mind wouldn’t admit that, though. Because then she would have to admit how much she longed for Case to see her as much more than just the St. Louis Songbird.

  And she could never let that happen.

  “‘Buy whatever you need to make the party special. Put it on my account.’ That’s what Mr. Durham said.” Becky’s head bobbed in certainty.

  Katlyn eyed the pile of ribbons, candies, toys and ingredients for punch they had chosen from the store. Their purchases lay in a heap on the counter, waiting for Katlyn to give her permission for the sale. “This seems extravagant.”

  “I think Mr. Durham’d get riled if we ain’t done it up right,” Becky said. “He felt real bad about nearly forgettin’ Emily’s birthday.”

  “Forgetting? Oh, I’m sure he didn’t forget, Becky.”

  “But he did! With all that trouble those cowboys caused, he was so worried over everything he told us her birthday just plain skipped his mind.”

  If Becky was right, Katlyn could well imagine how Case must be feeling, Case who prided himself on always being in control of everything around him. She fingered a length of bright pink ribbon, already thinking how she could use it to decorate the dining room.

  “All right. We’ll take everything, then. After all, this is a party!”

  Several minutes later, their arms laden with packages, Becky and Katlyn walked alongside the bustling street back toward the hotel. The early afternoon high country air was brisk, scented with the earthy smells of pine, horses and dust, the sun and scattered clouds making warm and cool patches on the worn sidewalk boards.

  As they strolled along the plank walkway past the shops, a few people, mostly men, nodded toward Katlyn and Becky offering greetings to Katlyn as “Miss Rose.” Katlyn felt uncomfortable responding, but what else could she do but smile and return a friendly, “Good day to you, too.”

  “What’s the matter?” Becky scrunched up her nose and looked at Katlyn’s flushed cheeks and stiff shoulders, perplexed. “Ain’t it grand bein’ famous and all?”

  “I’m hardly famous,” Katlyn said, her laugh a bit too wry. “I’m more likely to be thought of as infamous.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing,” she returned, eager to change the subject. “Oh, say, which is the other saloon Mr. Durham talks about, the Crooked Pony?”

  “That rat trap? It’s over there between the blacksmith’s and the jailhouse. Why would you want to look at a place like that? The miners and cowboys only go there ’cause they got sportin’ women.”

  “Becky!”

  “Well, it’s the truth. But our saloon’s got you.”

  Katlyn shifted her packages and laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, shoving open th
e door to the St. Martin. They looked around the door to make certain Emily was nowhere in sight before slipping into the dining room to set down the party goods.

  Bucky and Sally were there already, busily moving chairs aside and pushing tables together to make one long party table. Bucky looked up and wiped his forehead with a crumpled bandanna when he saw Katlyn and Becky.

  “’Bout time you got back, Beck. Mr. Durham’s gonna jump out of his skin if we don’t get this place fixed up quick.”

  Katlyn tossed her shawl aside and began unwrapping packages. “Where is he? And where’s Emily?”

  “He’s tryin’ to keep her busy in her room, but she ain’t dumb. She knows somethin’s goin’ on and wants to come down and have a look.”

  “We would have gotten a bit further along,” Sally added, “but no one knew anything about a party until this morning. And Bat’s still busy trying to get the saloon cleaned up.”

  “Well, don’t worry. We’ll have this place looking like a room out of a fairy tale in no time,” Katlyn said. “Has Tuck started baking a cake yet?”

  Becky and Bucky looked at each other and shrugged, and Sally shook her head.

  Katlyn made a little tsking sound to herself, doled out instructions to all three as to where and how to drape the ribbons, place the favors, and start getting the games ready, then rushed out to the kitchen to talk to Tuck about the cake.

  An hour later Katlyn went to hunt down an old tablecloth Sally said was in an upstairs closet, and met Case coming down the stairs.

  “You’re here,” he said, hurrying toward her.

  Katlyn nearly laughed at how ruffled he looked, as if they were readying for a grand opening and expecting royalty, rather than a child’s party. But she also remembered what Becky had said about his nearly forgetting Emily’s birthday and guessed he must be feeling guilty at leaving all the preparations to his employees, rather than taking on the task himself.

  She found herself wanting to soothe him and to let him know how good, how needed, it made her feel to be able to help organize this party for him and for little Emily, whom she’d grown to care for so deeply.