Hero For Hire

by Sheridon Smythe

Mac grinned. “That's the most amazing hat story I've ever heard."

  "It's not funny, Mac. I've never felt so foolish in my life!"

  "About the hat?"

  "No! About believing ... you know what I mean!"

  "Doesn't it make you yearn for the quiet, safe atmosphere of Angel Creek?” Mac asked hopefully.

  "No, it doesn't.” The stubborn glint returned. “I'm not going back, so don't waste you breath."

  "Have you forgotten? Barlow took your money. How do you plan to live?"

  "Have you forgotten?” she retorted with a lift of her finely arched brow and a steely glint in her eye. “I plan to get my money back from Barlow."

  "I can't let you do that, Savannah. Besides, that's Sheriff Porter's job."

  For a long moment, Mac held her challenging gaze. She finally looked away, but he didn't think she'd given up.

  "You're right. How foolish of me to think I could go after Ned Barlow."

  Sauntering to her, Mac tilted her chin until she looked at him again. “Do you know where he's gone?” God, a man could lose himself in her eyes, he thought. They were like a huge, glistening violet lake ... inviting, irresistible.

  "I told Sheriff Porter—” she began.

  "I'm asking now.” Mac rubbed his hand along her jaw, remembering her soft lips and equally soft body. He wondered if she thought about the kiss as he did. As he waited for her answer, her tongue came out to moisten her lips. Mac sucked in a sharp gasp, hoping she hadn't noticed his reaction. He didn't want to move too fast and scare her away.

  But moving slow was damned near killing him.

  "He—he mentioned something about a sister in West Virginia, and a ranch called Sunset about thirty miles South of Cornwall."

  "And you think he was telling the truth?” He moved his hand along her jaw and into her hair, marveling at its soft, luxurious texture. It wasn't difficult at all to imagine it unbound and flowing around her shoulders.

  Or spread across his bare chest.

  "Why would he lie? He planned to take me with him and hold me for ransom."

  "You've got an excellent point,” Mac agreed huskily. Wisely, he left her and moved to the window. Judging by the shadows filling the room, it wouldn't be long before full dark was upon them.

  The hotel overlooked Main Street, a muddy, rutted road filled with carriages and wagons. Through the thin glass panes of the window, Mac could hear shouts and cursing as the drivers fought for space. Vendors made last minute attempts to sell their wares before nightfall, and couples strolled along the board walks in front of the numerous shops.

  Across the street, a solitary figure leaned against a lamp post. His long black coat flapped against his legs, and the black hat he wore shaded his expression. A thick silver band circling his hat glinted in the rays of the dying sun.

  He appeared to be watching the hotel.

  Mac stiffened, wishing he could see the man's face. Someone sent by Sheriff Porter to watch them? Although Mac did not feel a sense of threat by the man, he supposed he should find out his business. In Mac's line of work it was impossible not to make enemies, mean ones that had no compunction about getting revenge.

  And now he had Savannah's safety to consider.

  "Mac ... if you don't mind, I think I'll retire early. I'm a little short on sleep."

  "Good idea. Tomorrow, we'll make good our promise to the Sheriff and take in a few sights.” He managed a casual shrug and glanced at Savannah over his shoulder to gage her reaction to his off-hand invitation. “Might as well. Looks like we're stuck here for a few days."

  For a split second, he saw a flash of something that might have been regret in her eyes before she blinked and glanced away.

  "Yes ... it does look that way. Mac, I can't go back to Angel Creek."

  "Why don't you think about it?” Mac suggested. “Maybe in a few days you'll feel differently.” Especially if he had anything to do with it.

  * * * *

  Dry-mouthed, Savannah watched him stride to the door. Broad-shouldered, lean-hipped, and long-legged, she noticed every detail, right down to the interesting motion of his tight buttocks outlined by his trousers.

  Mac was a man of action, and it showed.

  In her mind she saw again the vibrant green of his eyes, framed by thick black lashes. His hair, more auburn than brown, brushed the collar of his shirt in a careless way that made her fingers itch to smooth it, then muss it again. A shadowy, day's growth of beard lent him an air of danger, yet the stubborn cut of his jaw and easy way he walked spoke of confidence and an inbred sophistication he seemed unaware of.

  He was definitely a man any woman would look at twice, yet Savannah was seeing this man for the first time.

  The moment the door shut behind Mac, Savannah brought her hand to her mouth and traced her lips. Mac had kissed her. Not just a friendly, polite greeting sort of kiss, but a man to woman kind of kiss. A passionate kiss, pressing his body length against hers in an intimate unMac way that jolted her heart into a flat-out gallop.

  In the past few months, Jon Paul had kissed her many times.

  She'd never reacted like this; hot, flushed skin, weak knees, and a curious tumbling sensation low in her belly. Gingerly, she brushed her hands over her breasts. She sucked in a startled breath. Through the fabric of her dress, her nipples were hard and tingly to the touch.

  So this was passion, that forbidden word spoken in hushed whispers during her earlier years, but more openly as she grew older without finding a suitable husband.

  Mac ... her dear friend. He'd kissed her to convince the sheriff he was her husband, and in the process he'd opened Savannah's eyes to a few facts she hadn't considered before.

  Now Mac wasn't just a friend; he was a man, an attractive man who made her feel very much a woman. Savannah frowned, still finding it difficult to believe she could know someone so long and not realize how attractive they were. And there was no doubt she was attracted to Mac! Fanning her hand, she attempted to cool her hot face.

  Lord! Mac would probably die of embarrassment if he had any inkling of her naughty thoughts! He thought of her as he might think of a kid sister! If he knew, he'd probably hightail it right back to—

  Savannah held her breath at the thought.

  If Mac knew, he'd be beyond embarrassment. He'd fear breaking her heart. She knew he loved her, in a sisterly way. They'd been friends forever, it seemed.

  Would his fear of hurting her prompt him to give up the chance to make five thousand dollars? Savannah rose and paced the floor, her mind tumbling as fast as the waves in her stomach. No, she couldn't do that to Mac, as harmless at it sounded. She valued his friendship too much.

  Pausing at the window, Savannah surveyed the street below. She had only one recourse left, but she wasn't looking forward to it.

  She'd have to search for Ned Barlow on her own.

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  Chapter Four

  The gentle click of a door closing woke Mac. It was a distant sound, but he heard it loud and clear. He never slept soundly. In his line of work, sleeping soundly could be deadly. Besides, Savannah's easy acceptance hadn't fooled him.

  Rising from the bed, Mac reached for his gun and tucked it into his pants. He didn't have to pause to put on his boots; he never removed them unless he was at home.

  Footsteps—a woman's, he determined—tip-toed down the hall past his door. Mac waited until they faded away before he eased through the door and followed.

  Downstairs and to the left, the hotel restaurant lay in darkness. On the right, the clerk behind the desk snored softly, his chin propped in his hand and his elbow balanced on the counter. Mac paused briefly until Savannah disappeared through the hotel entrance.

  Questions crowded his mind as he passed the sleeping clerk. Where could Savannah be going at this late hour? Could she be meeting someone? Could that someone be Barlow? Was it possible he didn't know her as well as he thought? Both possibilities sliced through him like a knife and awak
ened his earlier jealousy. He pushed quietly through the door and moved to the shadows, trying to determine which direction she had taken. Didn't she know it wasn't safe for a lone woman to walk the streets at night?

  "Oh, you frightened me!"

  It was Savannah's voice. Then Mac heard another voice, one he didn't recognize. His hand went unerringly to his gun as he pressed closer to the wall.

  "My apologies, Mrs. Carrington."

  "You—you know me?"

  Exactly Mac's thought. His fingers tightened on the butt of his gun. He started to step out of the shadows, but the stranger's next words gave him pause.

  "Where is your ... husband, Mrs. Carrington?"

  So, Mac mused. Not a threat, but a nuisance. One of Porter's men, sent to make sure Savannah didn't do a disappearing act, and to perhaps nosey around. Very quietly, Mac edged back to the entrance and pushed open the door. He let it slam.

  "Savannah, I've been looking—” Mac broke off, nearly barreling into Savannah. He pretended to be surprised, then suspicious as he glared at the deputy. “Who the hell are you?"

  The deputy peered at Mac in the dim light. “Who are you?"

  "He's—"

  "I'm Savannah's husband,” Mac inserted hurriedly, stepping to Savannah's side. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, curling his fingers into her waist in warning. “She—we—I'm afraid you've caught us in the middle of a squabble."

  Despite his warning, Savannah attempted to pull away. “He's—"

  Mac shushed her with a finger to her mouth, gazing into her eyes with all the loving he could muster—which was plenty. “Darling, why must you always run when we fight? It's not safe for you on the streets."

  "Ma'am, is this your husband?” the deputy demanded, clearly suspicious by her reluctance.

  "Of course I'm her husband!” Mac growled. “The question is, who the hell are you? And how do you know my wife?"

  "Mac—"

  Swallowing an exasperated sigh, Mac covered Savannah's open mouth, thrusting his tongue inside in the hopes of shocking her speechless.

  She began to struggle. Aware of their skeptical audience, Mac tangled his fingers in her hair to hold her mouth to his, wound his arm tightly around her waist, and pulled her against him. He deepened the kiss, groaning inwardly as his manhood leaped in response to her soft, womanly curves.

  He was fast discovering that it was impossible to be this close to Savannah and not respond.

  Assuring himself it was necessary, he slowly ground his hips against her, capturing her startled gasp in his mouth. She gave a little shudder and began kissing him back with a fervor that made his blood heat.

  Prudently, he released her. If the deputy wasn't convinced now, he'd never be, Mac thought with a rueful, inward chuckle.

  More than a little shaken himself, Mac's lips lingered against her sweet-smelling hair before he turned to confront their audience.

  The deputy was gone.

  "I guess we convinced him,” Mac said, his voice noticeably husky.

  "Yes ... I'm sure we did.” Savannah's voice matched his own. She cleared her throat and tried to move away.

  Mac held her tight, surveying with interest her blushing face revealed beneath the gas lamp. To be honest, he wished the deputy had lingered a while longer so that he could do some more convincing. “Where were you going, Savannah?"

  She wouldn't look at him as she mumbled, “Just for a stroll. I—I couldn't sleep."

  "Is the money that important to you?"

  Her eyes flashed fire. She made no attempt to deny his accusation. “It's not just the money, Mac, and if you knew me at all, you would know that."

  "Pride, then.” Mac's smile held a rueful understanding, yet he wasn't entirely convinced of her motives. “But to go after Barlow alone? Haven't you considered the danger? He intended to hold you for ransom. Are you planning to give him the opportunity he missed the first time?"

  "I don't plan to give him the chance!” Savannah said.

  Before Mac could anticipate her move, she twisted from his grasp and produced a small derringer. She aimed it at his mid-section.

  "You see, Mac, I may be a lady, but I'm not stupid. I had a plan."

  Mac let out an admiring whistle, then promptly plucked the derringer from her hand. “I'm hoping you were just demonstrating your skills, and that you weren't intending to use that on me."

  "Don't be ridiculous. I was showing you that I can take care of myself.” When Mac handed the gun back to her, she slipped it into a hidden pocket of her dress and dusted her hands. “Since you're a bounty hunter, it might interest you to know the bank is offering a hefty reward for the capture of Ned Barlow and the retrieval of their money."

  It was on the tip of Mac's tongue to deny interest in the reward, but he caught himself in time. He wasn't ready to divulge that his main interest was her. Because she expected it, he asked, “How much?"

  "Five hundred dollars. Of course, it isn't five thousand..."

  "Tell you what,” Mac said, settling her gloved hand on his arm and leading her back into the hotel. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't resist. “I'll make you a deal."

  They passed the slumbering clerk and climbed the wide stairs, arm in arm. She paused on the top step and eyed him with suspicion. “What kind of deal?"

  "Let's talk about it in your room,” Mac suggested. Probably wasn't the best idea, but neither was his room and the only public place was closed. He might have worried about her reputation ... except they were supposed to be man and wife. The clerk did, however, give him a hard look when he asked for a separate room earlier that evening. Mac had rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Women, I'll never understand them."

  Watching the enticing sway of her hips as she moved ahead of him to unlock her door, Mac sighed. Twice he'd held Savannah close and kissed her, yet he still didn't know if her response was natural, or part of an act they were forced to play.

  If it was an act, she was mighty good at it!

  He closed the door and locked it. When he turned around, he froze. Savannah had not continued to the safety of the sitting room as he'd expected. She'd taken a seat on the bed and was now patting the space beside it—a very close space. He stared into her innocent blue eyes and silently quoted every bible verse he could remember.

  "Come sit with me, and tell me about your deal. I'm all ears."

  The ears he could handle. It was her soft curves, thrusting breasts and moist lips that tempted him, Mac thought with a hard swallow. God, he'd loved her, dreamed about her, and wanted her for so long ... Now she was sitting on the bed, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide and expectant.

  Trusting him.

  Mac tore his hand from the door knob and slowly approached the bed. He sat, not where she indicated, but several inches beyond that. Beyond temptation.

  It didn't help. He could smell her sweet fragrance—was it Jasmine?—and see the visible rise and fall of her breasts through her blouse. Her lips looked swollen from his kiss, and a sexy wisp of golden hair had fallen loose and now lay curled fetchingly on her shoulder.

  With great effort, Mac kept his hands to himself and tried to resume the role he'd always played around her; that of a good, trusted friend. Men flocked to Savannah, either for her money or her stunning looks, and he never wanted her to think that he was one of them.

  "Mac?” Savannah prompted softly. “Was your deal just a trick to get me into the hotel?"

  How about into bed? Mac shook the naughty thought from his head and blinked. He was going to have to make this conversation very short indeed. If he didn't, he was deathly afraid he would do something he'd regret.

  "Ah, no, it wasn't a trick."

  "You look strange. Are you sick? You're face is flushed..."

  He'd bet it was! Thank God his trousers were roomy in the crotch, or she'd be even more alarmed. “I'm fine. I was just thinking. What if I agreed to help you find Ned Barlow?"

  "What's the catch?"

  Mac wo
ndered what her response would be if he said, "You have to agree to fall in love with me." His hopeful thought prompted an old familiar surge of anxiety. What if she never loved him? What if no matter what he said or did in the next few weeks to convince her, she could think of him as nothing more than a friend? How would he live without her?

  "Mac ... are you certain you're all right? I've never seen you look this way."

  No, she hadn't. He'd been very careful to keep his true feelings from her. Until he could offer Savannah the life she was accustomed to having, he hadn't wanted her to know.

  "I'll help you look for Ned Barlow ... if you'll agree to come back to Angel Creek with me."

  "Mac, I can't—"

  "Your father wants to apologize for attempting to force you to marry DeMent,” Mac inserted.

  Savannah's eyes rounded. “He said that? I can't imagine Daddy backing down. He's the stubbornest man I know!” Suddenly, her shoulders slumped. “I don't know why I'm blaming Daddy. It's not really his fault."

  "What do you mean?” She looked so dejected Mac had to grip his own hands to keep from comforting her. Nothing wrong with comforting ... if he could actually stick to comforting.

  "It's the money. No matter who I fall in love with, I'll never really know if they love me for me, or because I stand to inherit Daddy's money. It's one of the reasons why I decided to come to Jamestown. Nobody knows me here."

  "They do now,” Mac said dryly. “By the way, how were you planning to live?"

  Her chin came up at the question. She looked proud and beautiful, and her spirited reaction made Mac more determined than ever to make her his wife.

  "I'm going to open a hat shop ... and design my own hats."

  Not was, Mac noted, but am. “You could do that in Angel Creek,” he pointed out. He wouldn't mind having a working woman for his wife, as long as it made her happy. He gave a startled jerk as she reached for his hand. A tremor of desire shot along his arm, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't.

  "Mac, you're missing my point. Everyone in Angel Creek knows me as George Carrington's daughter. That will never change."

  It will when you marry me. Because he was helpless to resist, Mac began to rub his thumb back and forth along her soft palm. “Won't you consider returning long enough to make amends with your father?"