Ana Leigh

by The Mackenzies

  “Just make yourself at home,” she sniffed, and stalked out of the room.

  He followed, carrying the tin, and forked a bite of the pie into his mouth. “Don’t reckon you have any coffee left?”

  Rose glared at him. “You reckoned right.” Em had once said these Westerners did more reckoning than the Lord would do on judgment day. “Of course, I’m sure you’ve already checked out the empty coffeepot.”

  He grinned—a devastating, curl-your-toes grin. The kind that brought an exciting jolt to a young girl’s heart. Thank goodness she’d been around enough to recognize it when she saw it and wouldn’t let herself be deceived by its appeal.

  “You’re pretty smart for your age, Redhead.”

  “Not really. You’re just pretty dumb for yours.”

  “You always have a smart answer, don’t you?”

  “That’s right, cowboy. Tell you what; the pie’s on me if you get out now.”

  “Let’s sit. My ma always said that standing up and eating gives you a bellyache.”

  “Your mother’s right. Take the pie with you and sit down and eat it in your room.”

  “I like the company here.” He surprised her by pulling out a chair for her, then waited until she sat down before taking a seat himself. “Bite?” he asked, offering her a piece on the end of the fork.

  “No, thank you.”

  “It’s good.”

  “I know; I had a piece. Will you just hurry up and eat it? I’m tired, and I’d like to leave.”

  “You been in this town long?” he asked, taking a healthy bite.

  “A week too long.” She began drumming her fingers on the table.

  “So how long have you been in Brimstone?” Another bite passed between his sensual lips.

  “A week.”

  His warm chuckle played a tune on her spine. “I like you, Redhead.”

  She stared into the sapphire eyes capped with those damn long lashes that women struggled to achieve with mascara or kohl. Even the stubble on his jaw couldn’t detract from them.

  “I have a name, sir: Dubois. Rose Dubois.”

  The sapphire gaze remained fixed on hers. “Mine’s Zach MacKenzie.”

  “That’s a coincidence,” she said, surprised. “I know a Josh MacKenzie. He’s a Pinkerton agent—or was, rather. Are you related?”

  He didn’t bat an eye. “Pinkerton? You have some trouble with the law, Rosie?”

  “I just prefer to avoid lawmen. But this one married a close friend of mine.”

  “Is that right? Well, MacKenzie’s a common name out here. What don’t you like about lawmen?”

  “The ones I’ve encountered are worse than the outlaws they’re chasing.” The first, and worst, had been Sheriff Wes Sturges, who’d entered her life when she was seventeen. But she refused to dwell on that.

  “So you have had some trouble with the law.” He popped the last bite of pie into his mouth.

  “I didn’t say that.” She picked up the tin, carried it into the kitchen, and put it on the sinkboard. When she turned, he was there behind her. How could he move so soundlessly on the wooden floors?

  He surprised her by slipping an arm around her waist; then he drew her against his hard muscle and flesh. Ordinarily Rose would have repelled the advance with an elbow to his ribs or a knee to his groin.

  But for some reason entirely alien to her sense of survival, she didn’t do either. There was a heady excitement to being so near him, and she’d been around enough to feel confident she could control the situation.

  “What do you think you’re doing, MacKenzie?”

  “Since I can’t have coffee, I’ll settle for this.” His kiss stopped the words of protest on her lips.

  The pleasure was instant, explosive. Realizing she’d underestimated his effect on her, Rose tried to draw away. He cupped her neck with a warm palm to keep her still, and his touch overwhelmed her senses as much as his firm, warm lips—as much as his hard, heated body pressed against hers.

  She’d been kissed before, but never felt anything like she was feeling in the arms of Zach MacKenzie. Everything about him excited her, aroused her. How she’d yearned for such a touch—for such a thrill.

  But she was playing with fire and it was an insanity she couldn’t afford. She groped for the Colt on his hip, drew it out of the holster, then pressed it against his stomach.

  He stepped back, but didn’t release her. His mouth curved into the barest hint of a smile. “You ever shoot a man before, Rosie?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to think about.”

  He dropped his hands away and studied her with those damn sapphire eyes. “Why, Rosie? You were as curious about this kiss as I was, and you sure as hell were enjoying it as much as I was.”

  “That’s your opinion. And keep calling me Rosie and I will pull this trigger.”

  “Why the act? You’re not fooling me for a minute; I know what you want from a man.”

  “That’s good—because you don’t have it.” She handed the gun to him.

  “You sure?” he asked, slipping the Colt back into its holster. “That kiss says otherwise.”

  “All that kiss will get you is a free piece of pie, MacKenzie. Don’t think I don’t know your kind. I’ve been fighting off riffraff like you from the time I sprouted breasts. You’re all poured from the same mold.”

  “What’s so bad about a couple of kisses between friends, Rosie?”

  “Maybe a couple of hot kisses and a roll in the hay is enough for you, but not for me, MacKenzie,” she declared, jabbing a thumb at herself. “I’ve got plans for my future, and they don’t include a down-on-his-luck drifter like you.”

  “Who’s talking future? You’re wasting your time if you’re trying to convince me that you’ve been saving yourself for the right man. We both know better.”

  Her fingers itched to scratch the smirk off his face. Granted, she was no virgin, but she was no whore, either. And he was treating her like one. But what did it matter what he thought, anyway? Why should she let it bother her? She’d always shrugged off such looks before.

  So why did it hurt this time?

  Rose looked up into his eyes, and said softly, “No, Zach MacKenzie, you’re the one wasting your time. You see, you don’t know me at all.”

  “But I soon will, Rosie.”

  For a long moment he stared at her. She returned his gaze in silence, broken only by the sound of her pounding heart hammering in her ears.

  He walked to the door, then turned his head and looked at her. “By the way, Rosie, when you’re that close to a man, never draw a pistol unless you cock it. Some men might not take too kindly to it and turn it on you.” Tipping a finger to the brim of his Stetson, he nodded. “Good night for now.”

  She stood motionless as he departed, and waited until she heard the bell jingle. With trembling hands she groped behind her for the sinkboard. Leaning back against it, she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Her lips still tingled from his kiss—her body still trembled from his touch.

  Zach MacKenzie had thrown out a challenge. Did she have the will to meet it? Brimstone had suddenly become more dangerous than she imagined, if a saddle tramp like him had the ability to curl her toes. For the first time in her life she was afraid to trust herself. She could only hope that he and his gang kept moving on. If not, she had to avoid him at all costs.

  Zach remained in the shadows when Rose came out and locked the door. There’d been no sign of Tait when he’d returned to town, and that bothered him. Jess Tait swaggered through life making a lot of threats, and he usually carried them out—especially with someone smaller or weaker than he.

  So the redhead knew his cousin Josh. Well, the less said about any family connection, the better. He couldn’t keep himself from grinning, though, thinking about Josh and his bride. Rose had said she and Emily were friends. He’d bet his best pair of boots that the two gals were too much for any one man to reckon with. Next time he saw Josh, he’d have to find o
ut what part Rose had played in his cousin’s courtship.

  Hugging the shadows, Zach followed Rose the short distance to her boardinghouse. A few seconds after she entered, a light glowed from a rear window.

  “Good night for now, Rose Dubois,” he murmured. “I’d like nothing better than to tuck you in bed, so mark my words: one of these days I’ll be saying good morning, as well.”

  He continued down the street to where loud laughter carried over the tinny din of a piano. Zach paused in the entrance of the smoke-filled saloon and glanced around. Tait and his two minions were at a corner table. As much as he’d prefer to ignore the son of a bitch, he didn’t have any choice. He walked over to the table and sat down.

  “Where’ve ya been?” Tait asked. “Ain’t seen ya around.” His words were slurred and Zach hoped he wouldn’t get belligerent, like he usually did when he’d had too much to drink.

  “I could ask the same about you. I looked for you fellas earlier.”

  “Tait hadda change his pants, then we had somethin’ to eat,” Pike said.

  “What’s Bull and Joe up to?” Tait asked.

  Zach laughed. “What do you think? Every time we enter a town, Bull has to check out the whorehouse.”

  “Yeah, and we have to hear about it for a month of Sundays,” Cain grumbled. “Hey, Pike, let’s go and check out the place for ourselves.” The two men got up and headed for the door.

  Tait poured himself another shot of whiskey and downed it in a gulp. “Ya tried out these whores yet?” He could barely keep his heavy eyelids open.

  Zach shook his head. “Figure I’ve got plenty of time. I’m guessing we’ll be hanging around here for a while.”

  Tait’s bushy brows met in a suspicious frown. “Where’d ya get that idea?”

  “You were dead set to come here, Tait. Figure you had a good reason.”

  Tait thrust out his jaw, his eyes flashing angrily. “Yer too damn smart for yer own good, MacKenzie. It could get ya killed.” He shoved back his chair and staggered away.

  Zach remained at the table and watched Tait lumber up the stairway. He’d been a Texas Ranger too long—it was a good thing his enlistment would soon be up. He missed the Triple M and wanted to go back to ranching.

  It had taken him six months to catch up with this gang. Thanks to his cousin Cole—who’d been riding with the gang before Zach found him and sent him back to Texas—he’d had been able to infiltrate the cattle rustlers two weeks ago. Trouble was, he hadn’t found evidence serious enough to arrest them. His instinct told him Tait had brought the gang to Brimstone for a definite reason. But Tait didn’t want thinking men in his gang, and if Zach made any more careless slips like he just did, he’d never get the proof he needed. They hadn’t done any rustling in the two weeks he’d been with them, but Cole had said they’d done so in Arizona.

  Zach was sick and tired of trailing along with this gang; he’d like to ride away and forget they even existed. But if it was the last thing he did before leaving the Rangers, he’d see that bastard Tait dead or behind prison walls.

  The only thing that might make this assignment tolerable was that redheaded Harvey Girl. She might add a little spice to the stew. He poured himself a shot of whiskey and thought about that kiss. Yeah, she might help to make this assignment real tolerable.

  Chapter 3

  After locking her bedroom door, Rose removed the black bow and pins from her hair. It felt good to free her hair, and she shook it out wildly until it hung in unruly dishevelment across her shoulders.

  Removing Emily’s letter from her pocket, she laid it on the nightstand, then closed the drapes and removed all of her clothing. She loved being unrestrained—her long hair hanging loosely and the feeling of air on her naked body.

  Not that she would ever parade nude in front of anyone; she hadn’t even undressed completely in front of Em when the two women shared a room in New Mexico. Could it have been out of respect for Emily’s modesty rather than her own?

  But she’d never stripped in front of Wes, either. And Lord knew he had no modesty to respect. She’d always turned off the lamp or climbed under the sheet to remove her clothing whenever he lay with her.

  She paused in front of the cheval mirror in the corner and gazed at her image. So why did she find such pleasure in moments like this? Was there a wanton side to her that she kept contained, hidden from even herself? Was that the reason she presented a woman-of-the-world veneer to others, so afraid of releasing this hidden nature that she was willing to marry for the convenience of money rather than risking the passion of love?

  She brought a hand to her lips, which were still swollen from Zach MacKenzie’s kiss. Would she hesitate to release her inhibitions to him, too, or could she blatantly stand naked before him as she was doing now? The way she felt right now, it seemed like she wouldn’t hesitate.

  Leaning forward, she peered more deeply into the mirror as if the answer lay in the reflected image. Tonight, when he had held her in his arms, she’d sensed this hidden nature’s urgent cry for release; a clarion call that for a few exquisite seconds had deafened her ears to her own reasoning.

  Damn you, Zach MacKenzie. Who are you? Why should you be able to torment me this way?

  Seized by a sudden, heated flush, she folded her arms across her naked breasts to conceal the hardening of her nipples.

  Oh, how his kiss had excited her. There could be no doubt of that. Dropping her arms to her sides, she saw what the thought of him did to her body. Her nipples were distended, and she felt the draw in her loins. How could just the thought of this stranger cause such an effect on her? No one else had ever been able to do that.

  Rose shivered. If just thinking about his kiss could do this to her, what would happen the next time he kissed her? And there would be a next time, no doubt about that. His devilish eyes had promised it as much as his words declared it.

  And she already yearned for that moment.

  Snatching her nightgown from the bed, she hurriedly pulled it over her head, as if blocking out the naked evidence could deny the naked truth.

  She turned away, picked up the pearl-handled brush that Em had given her, and began to brush out her long hair. She was angry with herself for even allowing Zach MacKenzie to invade her thoughts. The more she thought of him, the angrier she became, and the harder she stroked. By the time she put aside the brush, her scalp was tingling.

  “You see, Rose,” she declared aloud, glaring defiantly into the mirror, “unless you keep that man out of your thoughts, he’ll always cause you some kind of pain.”

  She climbed into bed, puffed the pillows up behind her back, and reached for Emily’s letter. Smiling with expectation, she opened the envelope.

  The strident blast of the alarm jarred Rose out of the sweet euphoria of a delicious dream where Zach MacKenzie was kissing her. She groped to shut it off. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was only five o’clock. Sleepily, she climbed out of bed.

  Within ten minutes she was dressed and had almost finished grooming herself. Rather than take more time to pin up her hair, she brushed it quickly and put on a wide-brimmed hat to protect her face from the sun. She already had enough freckles across the bridge of her nose. A few quick strokes from the fluffy powder puff on the dresser succeeded in covering them.

  Rose left her room and tapped on a nearby door. “Good morning,” she greeted, when Kate opened the door.

  “Good morning. What’s wrong?”

  “Have you forgotten this morning is our turn to ride out to the Wilson farm?”

  Kate groaned. “Oh, dear! I did forget.”

  “I suspected as much when I didn’t hear you moving around. Tell you what, I’ll go and get the buggy while you get dressed.”

  “All right. I’ll hurry,” Kate said, now galvanized into action.

  Zach finished saddling his horse and led it outside. As he was about to mount, he saw Rose Dubois. She saw him, too, took a half step as if to halt, but then continued to appro
ach the livery.

  The first thing he noticed was that hair of hers, freed from restraint except for the hat that shielded her face. It reminded him of his mother—reminded him of home. Not that one had anything to do with the other; his thoughts of Miss Rose Dubois went straight to his groin.

  He doffed his hat. “Good morning, Rosie.”

  “Good morning.”

  Her greeting carried considerably less enthusiam than his, but he’d cut her some slack because she was so damn good to look at. She looked as beautiful in sunlight as she had in the moonlight. And despite how well she filled that Harvey Girl uniform, it couldn’t compare to seeing her in a bright gown, with her gorgeous red hair hanging to her shoulders. It was enough to make a man’s thoughts drift from the work at hand.

  “What’s got you up with the birds this morning, Rosie?”

  “I could ask you the same, MacKenzie. Actually, I’m here to rent a buckboard. Each morning we ride out to the Wilson farm to get fresh eggs.”

  He glanced skyward. “Looks to be a good day for it. I like early mornings. Everything’s still except for the sound of chirping birds.”

  “Chirping birds generally annoy me by waking me up.”

  “Yes, but it’s a good sound to lie in bed and listen to. Kind of fills a man with a feeling of tranquility.”

  “ ‘God’s in his Heaven; all’s right with the world.’ ”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s a line from a poem by Robert Browning.”

  “Reckon that Browning fellow and I think along the same lines.”

  “If it’s tranquility you’re seeking, MacKenzie, your actions last night certainly speak otherwise.”

  “You mean my kissing you?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “Come on, Rosie. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t like it.”

  “The kiss, or being treated like a whore by some saddle tramp who’s too lazy to get an honest job for a living?”

  She stepped past him, and a grin curved his mouth as he watched the sway of her hips as she walked away.

  He sure liked this gal; she met a man head-on and pulled no punches. Whether she admitted it or not, they had begun a courting dance.