Clanton's Woman

by Patricia Knoll

  “I heard that when you were talking to him on the phone.”

  She nodded. “But all the ideas, the conclusions had to be his. The books have been published. The first one shortly after our divorce, the second a couple of months ago.” She smirked. “He sent me autographed copies.”

  “But none of the money, I suppose?”

  “Well, no. I had my divorce settlement and I wanted nothing further from him.”

  “You were entitled to some of the proceeds,” Jack insisted.

  “No.”

  He made a deep sound of disgust. “You’re saying you were a glorified secretary.”

  “Not even glorified.”

  “Why did you stay with him?”

  Her glance darted around the shop, skimming over the neat displays, the carefully arranged merchandise, as if searching for the answer. “I couldn’t admit I’d made a mistake. My parents tried to tell me that he was too old for me, that he was self-absorbed, that it wouldn’t work out.” Mallory turned anguished brown eyes on him. “It…it wasn’t always bad.”

  “Only when you tried to think for yourself, have your own life and interests,” Jack concluded. “Like having your own business.”

  “And bringing Sammi to live with me.”

  Mallory knew she was saying too much. All the emotions she’d felt that evening were crowding in on her, from the warm companionship they’d known at the beginning to the wild desire they’d experienced outside her door. She was in overload like a circuit with too many conflicting currents running through.

  Jack stared at her as his hands slowly closed into fists. “The jerk didn’t like Sammi, did he?”

  She shook her head. “When I wanted to bring her to live with us so Mom and Dad could accept the Peace Corps posting, he refused, said she should be in an institution.”

  Jack swore low and savagely under his breath. A flush of furious red ran beneath his skin. “And that’s when you left?”

  “Yes.” Her shoulders were stiff, straight.

  “Was that why he called the other day, to see if the two of you had fallen on your faces yet?”

  “That’s right. I think he’s gotten it into his head that I might come back.” Mallory shook her head, then pushed her drifting hair out of her face. “I can’t imagine why he thinks that. We hadn’t talked for months.”

  “He wants something.”

  She shrugged. Her emotions were too raw to go on with this talk, and Sammi would be returning any minute. She didn’t want her little sister to find her upset like this.

  Jack’s eyes were dark and as hard as jade. “You think T.C. is going to treat Sammi like that? That I’m going to treat you like that? That every minute of your life will be a struggle the way it must have been with that creep Garrison?”

  Frustrated, Mallory pressed her hands against her head. “Jack, I don’t want to talk about this. This isn’t getting us anywhere—”

  “Because you won’t let it!” He whirled around, paced a few steps, then circled back to her. “Do you know why I told you about my family, Mallory?”

  Dropping her hands, she shook her head warily.

  “So you’d know what to expect from me.”

  “That’ll be a first! I haven’t known what to expect since the moment we met.”

  “I explained about my family so you’d understand that I’m a self-made man in the old-fashioned sense of the word. I don’t let things stand in my way for very long. Not poverty, not abandonment, not a stubborn woman.”

  Mallory’s hands closed into fists at her sides. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll be sure to avoid you from now on. Why don’t you go away?”

  His jaw hardened and he raised one hand as if he’d like to shake her. Instead, he pointed a finger straight at her nose.

  “I’ll leave now, Mallory, but I’ll be back. I’ll be seeing a great deal of you. This is a small town. I’m renovating your house, and like it or not, my nephew is falling in love with your sister. And she’s falling right back. Oh, yes,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate in the dimly lit shop. “I’ll see you day after day and on one of those days—and I promise you it will be soon—you’ll realize that I’m nothing like your ex-husband.”

  “Jack, this is all going so fast. I can’t think…”

  “Think about this.” He stepped to her, closed his hand over the back of her head, and placed his mouth over hers. He was bold and demanding. His mouth was warm, welcoming, beckoning her to delights and pleasure she could only imagine.

  Oh, Lord, how could it be like this? How could she feel everything so keenly when she never had before tonight? If the experience was so new, so painfully intense, how could it feel so right?

  He pulled away, but forced her to tilt her head up and meet his eyes. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m…I’m not afraid of anything,” she bluffed.

  He gave that statement the credit it deserved by ignoring it altogether. He wrapped his hands around her shoulders, cupping them with enough force to keep her in place, but not enough to bruise her. “It’s going to happen between us someday, Mallory. Why don’t you just get used to the idea and stop all this dodging and weaving?”

  Somewhere her common sense was insisting that she should end this conversation. She could simply turn around and walk upstairs, leaving Jack to find his own way out and Sammi to lock up. That probably wouldn’t happen, though. Jack would stay right here, holding on to her until he got the answer he wanted. She couldn’t give in to him so she struggled on. Her dark hair drifted around her shoulders as she shook her head. “You said you weren’t interested in marriage.”

  “Mallory, you’re jumping the gun. Who said anything about marriage, which you told me you think is a trap? We’ve barely had our first date and our first kiss.”

  “You wanted more,” she accused. “You said so yourself.”

  “That doesn’t mean I would have forced you into anything.” His eyes mocked her, but his voice was heavy with promise. “I’m not him, Mallory. I’m not like him. The reason he hurt you was because he didn’t value you. It’s not that way with me. There can’t be anything between us, though, until you’re honest with yourself. Just remember, Miss Earp, that we Clantons are a pretty persistent bunch. That goes for my nephew. And for me.”

  He gave her a confident nod and strode out the door, leaving Mallory with her stomach doing a fast dive toward her shaking knees.

  Mallory walked the perimeter of her new home, her booted feet kicking stones out of her path as she went. The early-morning sun slanted its bright rays around her and a spring wind sent gusts spiraling up the small canyon behind her.

  She was dressed in a red silk baseball-style jacket and faded blue jeans that she’d kept tucked away during the entire six years of her marriage because Charles hated jeans, dubbing them unfeminine. Her hair hung down her back, but she ignored it when the wind twisted and tangled it.

  Pulling her hands from her pockets, Mallory pressed her fingertips against her eyes, hating the exhaustion she felt, hating even more the knowledge that it was her own fault.

  She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease out the tension that had settled there, then huddled into her jacket and turned to examine the progress that was being made on the house.

  She was glad to be alone on the small mesa that faced the hometown she had chosen for herself.

  No one had come to work yet and it was just as well. Mallory had come to the house to be alone before she had to open her shop and face her sister.

  The roof was completed over the main part of the structure and the frame was up for the bedroom and bathroom addition. It would be done in less than a month and she was sure she and Sammi would be very happy there.

  That is, if Sammi ever spoke to her again.

  Mallory groaned at the memory and then restlessly began wandering the length of her property.

  She had made an absolute fool of herself last night. She had done exactly what she had promised herself she would
n’t do—what Jack had ordered her not to do. After Sammi had returned from seeing T.C. to his Jeep, she had insisted they have a talk.

  It had not gone well.

  Sammi may have been developmentally delayed and protected from harsh reality, but she knew the facts of life. She had very calmly told Mallory that she was in love with T.C. and nothing her sister said could change her mind.

  That was the point where Mallory had heard echoes of her own protestations to her parents that Charles was the man for her, that she would love him and be happily married to him for the rest of her life.

  Recalling that bit of idiocy, Mallory grimaced. Sammi simply didn’t know what she was getting into. While it was true that T.C. was nothing like Charles, Sammi didn’t know him well enough to say she loved him. When Mallory had pointed that out last night, her sister had lost her temper. Since that had rarely happened before, Mallory, already upset from her confrontation with Jack, had overreacted. She and Sammi had gone to bed angry. After a sleepless night, Mallory had risen early and come up to the house for some time alone.

  She turned and walked past the piles of adobe block and entered the front door, where she was greeted by the scents of fresh plaster, paint and sawdust. Automatically, she made her way to her favorite spot, the window seat overlooking Tombstone.

  She sat down, then had to grab for the sill to steady herself on the warped board. It was looser than ever, probably in preparation for being replaced. She scooted back carefully, lifted her boots up, and snuggled into the corner with her long legs forming an arch in front of her. Letting her head fall back, she closed her eyes.

  Because she was tired, or so she told herself, her thoughts drifted to Jack and what he’d told her last night. She couldn’t say that he’d tried to fool her. After all, she’d glimpsed that ruthless streak of his the first evening they’d met. However, he usually hid it behind his teasing, friendly facade.

  Last night, the mask had been off. There was no way now that she could fool herself into thinking that there was anything resembling a boss/employee relationship between them, not that there ever had been. Nor could she fool herself into thinking that their teasing rivalry over the old Earp/Clanton feud could continue.

  Those kisses last night and the things he’d said had changed everything. She wished it had never happened because she didn’t want to face what it meant—that she wasn’t as in control of things as she wished. She realized, too, that she hadn’t resolved her feelings about Charles.

  If she sat calmly for a while and sorted out what had happened, she could deal with it. Without Jack’s disturbing presence to confuse her, she could get her thoughts, her life—and Sammi’s—back on track. As long as he wasn’t around to distract her.

  When she heard the scrape of boots against the tile floor, her eyes sprang open. She sighed. No such luck. Jack was coming in the door.

  He was dressed in his usual jeans, a dark blue denim shirt that had seen better days, and a down vest. His cowboy hat was pushed to the back of his head, giving him a devil-may-care look that was belied by the sharp interest in his eyes as they swept over her. He was carrying his tool belt and a thermos of coffee. His eyes were full of deviltry as he dropped the belt beside boxes of plaster stacked against the wall and opened the thermos cap to pour out some of the steaming liquid.

  “I thought that was your car outside. Checking up on the work in progress?” he asked. “Or trying to figure some way out of our agreement?”

  She almost jumped to her feet to confront him, to deny his accusation. Instead, Mallory forced herself to remain seated. She was quite pleased with the way she turned her head and gave him a nonchalant look. “Good morning, Jack. I see you’re in your usual outspoken, know-it-all mood on this lovely spring day.”

  His eyes gleamed at her. “Why change a winning formula?”

  Mallory clamped her lips together and reminded herself it was too early in the day to lose her temper. “To answer your question, I am here to check up on the progress of my house. It looks great. Why would I want to back out of our agreement?”

  He sauntered over to her and offered her the coffee. “To keep my nephew away from your sister. To keep me away from you.”

  The brew smelled wonderful, but she had learned better than to take anything from Jack. There were usually strings attached. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not afraid of you.” She shifted on the windowsill and felt the loose board rock beneath her.

  “I know that, Mallory,” he said. Uninvited, he sat down by her feet. The board squeaked and he moved cautiously to make himself comfortable, then took a deep swallow from his cup. He offered it to her, but she shook her head. Settling against the wall, he went on, “You’re afraid of you.”

  She lifted her chin to a proud angle. “I believe we had this conversation last night and it was just as boring and pointless then.”

  Jack’s green eyes narrowed. “Once again, our opinions differ. It’s getting to be a habit.” He leaned forward, crowding her against the roughly stuccoed wall. “But habits can be broken.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MALLORY fought against the familiar feeling of being overwhelmed by him, of scrambling for her mental footing. “Would you please move?” she asked haughtily, but the effect was spoiled when the last word came out a little breathlessly. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I didn’t invite you to sit down.”

  He took another sip from his cup and watched her over its rim. “Ah, you’re a hard woman, Mallory Earp. No doubt it’s a family trait rising to the surface. Although it does seem to have skipped Sammi,” he added in a thoughtful tone.

  Mallory ignored his dig and said, “Please move, so I can stand up.”

  He looked at her for a few seconds as if he wanted to deny her request, but finally, he set the cup down and moved it out of the way, then surged to his feet. His sudden motion made the loose board shift. Mallory slapped a hand down to steady herself. The split halves of the board were forced together, catching her palm in a painful pinch.

  “Ouch!” she yelped, jerking it away. Shoving her uninjured hand down beside her, she tried to lift herself up. Cold air swelled up from between the pieces of board, making her shiver.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack demanded, reaching for her. “What happened?”

  Embarrassed, she shook her head and tried to bat his hand away. This action dropped her back down again and this time she was pinched on her bottom. “Oh!” She scooted around, attempting to swing her feet over the edge of the window seat, and felt the board crack beneath her. Her hands and feet flailed as she tried to rock forward.

  Jack finally seemed to realize what the problem was, and, done with waiting for her to ask for his assistance, he simply reached down, grasped her aiouud the waist, and pulled her up.

  In an instant, she was on her feet, with his arm firmly around her waist. Her hand flew up to rest on his shoulder while she steadied herself.

  “Are you hurt?” He drew her away, checking for injuries.

  “Only my dignity,” she muttered.

  “What happened?”

  She rolled her eyes at him in a look that said she wished he wouldn’t ask, then nodded toward the window seat. “That board’s cracked and it pinched my hand.”

  Immediately, Jack took it in his and began rubbing her palm. “Is that better?”

  Mallory nodded and resisted the strong need to massage the other injured area. She cast him another quick glance, but saw only concern in his eyes. “When I fell back, it also pinched my…”

  When she didn’t finish the sentence, he stared at her in puzzled concern. After a few seconds, his face cleared and the concern changed to a teasing glint. She knew what was coming. “You’re being unnecessarily modest about this, Mallory. In fact, downright Victorian.”

  She knew that, but as usual, she wasn’t acting like herself around him. “Never mind.”

  “Would you like me to rub it and make it better, too?”

  “I said never mind,
” she snapped, stepping away from him. “Even though it is your fault.”

  “Mine? How do you figure that?”

  “If you hadn’t sat down on it, too, it wouldn’t have moved.”

  Jack’s grin was unrepentant. “If I’d known your cute little tush was in such danger, I never would have forced my unwelcome presence on you.” He tilted his head consideringly. “No, sir, I sure don’t want you hurt. Ever since I first saw you in a pair of jeans, you’ve made me remember why God made women.”

  “Now there’s a sexist remark if I ever heard one!”

  “No, an appreciative one.”

  Mallory clapped her hands onto her hips. “Just like all conversations with you, this one is getting nowhere.”

  “We’re getting somewhere. We were talking about that board. It wouldn’t have split if you hadn’t panicked.”

  “It hurt!”

  His lips twitched, but he didn’t answer. “I think there was more to it than that.”

  “I wish just once you could accept what I say at face value and not try to find a deeper meaning behind it,” Mallory answered wearily.

  “What would be the fun in that?” Jack stepped closer to the window seat and reached for the board. As his fingers wrapped around the edge, Mallory remembered the cold blast of air that had hit her. When she told him about it, he said, “How can that be? The wall is solid adobe.”

  “I’m just telling you what I felt, Jack.”

  “Let’s take a look. This wood needs to be replaced anyway.” He pulled on the old board and half of it came up with a squeaking wrench of nails. Setting the board aside, he reached for the other half and pulled it up, too. “You’re right,” he said in a voice gone soft with surprise. “There’s a hole here.”

  Together, the two of them leaned forward and examined the opening. Where there should have been solid adobe blocks, a rectangle, about eighteen inches by seven inches, had been hollowed out.

  “There’s something in there.” In her excitement, Mallory forgot how irritating Jack could be and touched his arm lightly. “It looks like a box.”