in by living in a cathouse.
“Let’s see, what’s the going rate for an hour in your bed?”
“Marriage, you insufferable clod, now get off!”
She surprised a chuckle from him. “Marriage? That’s a mite steeper than I planned.” He peeled off a bill and returned the rest of the money to his pocket. “Ten dollars should cover it.”
“Ten dollars!” she cried. “I’ve never been so insulted in all my life.”
He leaned across her and placed the bill on the nightstand. “What do you expect when you entertain customers dressed like a charwoman?”
When he’d agreed to Gideon’s request, there had been no way to anticipate events spinning out of control like this. But when Burke had overheard Miss Stoneworthy’s cavalier treatment of the rough-and-tumble miner, Newton White, he’d decided she needed to find out what happened if a man without scruples had only one thing on his mind. Who better to play such a part than himself?
“I’m dressed for work, not entertaining, you dimwit!”
“Keep insulting me, and I’ll take back the ten. You’ll have to settle for five dollars. I’ve got my standards where such things are concerned.”
Her flushed face glared up at him with enough righteous fury to send him to Hades. Why not steal a kiss? he wondered. After today’s debacle, she wouldn’t let him within a hundred feet of her. He might as well gain a little satisfaction for his troubles.
“You mule-headed dolt, I’m not in the business of selling myself. I’m a respectable woman!”
“Are you telling me I’ve made a mistake?” he asked, surprised by the peculiar tenderness her impassioned objection stirred. What possible attraction could exist between himself and a protesting virgin?
“Hallelujah! The voice of reason has finally penetrated the pea-sized organ serving as your brain. No matter what this place used to be, it’s now the Stoneworthy School of Tutoring for Young Ladies.”
“You almost had me convinced until you made that rude remark about my brain.” He tugged the white kerchief from her hair. “No school of refinement would let you within a hundred miles of its students.”
She sucked in her lower lip. Meaning to claim it for himself, he bent his head.
“I’m not usually rude,” she muttered. The moistened lip slid free.
“Neither am I.”
He wove his fingers through silken hair that lay like a river of spilled gold on the pillow, taking the kiss. Female heat, wet and beckoning, drew the tip of his tongue into the sweet cavern of her mouth. She stiffened and pushed against his shoulders.
It was ridiculous to be disappointed by her resistance. He was taking what she wasn’t offering—a moment and kiss stolen from time. He groaned with unexpected need. Mingled with sawdust, her womanly taste and scent honed a sharper edge to the hunger surging to life.
Enough... He’d trespassed further than he had any right. She shifted beneath him. New need erupted. He tried to end the kiss. His mouth refused to cooperate. His hands were getting restless. He had to stop. Now.
Struggling for control, he raised his head. “I’m sorry.”
She shifted again. “You will be.”
He wasn’t sure he heard her right. The blood thundered in his veins with the fury of a herd of stampeding cattle. Her wet lips invited more insanity. If he didn’t start breathing again, he was going to black out.
“I didn’t mean for things to go this far,” he said hoarsely.
“Save the apology.”
He felt more than saw the blur of movement. One moment he had heaven and bliss rolled into one package beneath him. The next instant, a thunderbolt of pain exploded in his skull. The beguiling woman with green eyes splintered into a whirlwind of spinning stars, then disappeared into blackness.
Chapter Three
Jayne felt Burke Youngblood stiffen and then go lax, collapsing on top of her. The cut-off two-by-four slipped from her fingers and thudded to the floor. Her face was pressed against his chest. The faintly musky masculine scent she inhaled was unfamiliar, yet oddly stirring.
Resisting a sense of light-headedness, she tried to squirm from beneath his pinning weight. It took several minutes of concentrated wriggling before she slithered to freedom. Unexpectedly, the experience left her feeling an uncanny kinship with a worm trying to create a narrow passageway through an apple. Anyone attempting to take a bite from Burke Youngblood’s dense hide, however, surely risked a broken tooth.
Her relief at gaining her freedom lasted half a second. Off balance from her exertions, she toppled to the floor. Her inelegant landing had her skirts around her ears and her bottom smarting from the jarring impact. When the world righted itself, she blew her bangs from her eyes. A broad male hand with hair-grazed knuckles dangled over the side of the bed.
Jayne scrambled to her feet. The foreign invader lay facedown upon her rumpled bedding. Though built upon leaner lines, the felled beast was nearly as tall as Newt White. Almost everything about the banker was black. His thick hair, jacket, trousers—even his hand-tooled boots. And his heart, she added silently, stalking to the foot of the bed. The brute hadn’t even possessed the courtesy to remove his boots! The high-and-mighty financier clearly had no respect for women. He’d more than deserved the blow to the head she given him.
Shouldn’t he be coming to about now?
She circled the bed. He lay perfectly still with his face pressed against her pillow. A terrible foreboding chilled her. Was he...dead?
She took an unsteady step forward. Surely, an astonishingly virile specimen of manhood such as Youngblood couldn’t be killed by a forceful whack to the side of his head.
She inched closer. Would a judge consider that an adequate defense? “I’m sorry, Your Honor. I truly thought a man built upon such rugged lines would have a stronger head. I didn’t hit him all that hard, you see....”
Gingerly, she shook his shoulder. Nothing happened. Was he breathing? Gathering her courage, she clutched the sleeve of his jacket, tugging and pushing until she gained sufficient momentum to roll him onto his back.
An cry of distress escaped her. At his left temple a bluish-colored lump swelled. From it, a tiny trickle of blood oozed down his cheek. It was foolish to feel remorse for defending herself against him, yet a pang of guilt smote her. Aunt Euphemia had always accused her of being too tenderhearted, but surely one was entitled to feelings of regret when murder was involved.
You haven’t killed him. He’s merely been rendered unconscious, the inner voice of reason suggested.
Jayne desperately wanted to believe that voice. She leaned forward, bringing her cheek close to his eerily tranquil face. His relaxed features were a jangling contradiction to the fires that moments before had ignited his gaze. The faintest whisper of breath from his slightly parted lips feathered across her sensitive skin. Thank God... He was alive.
She drew back. It wasn’t that she thought the world would be a better place with him in it. It was just that she didn’t want to be a murderer. A perfectly natural sentiment, she assured herself.
He needed to be revived. The most logical way of doing so was to throw a bucket of water in his face. Unfortunately, she had no wish to drench her bed linens and mattress. Sighing at having to forgo the sight of him sputtering to consciousness, she went to her dresser and opened a drawer. After withdrawing a handkerchief, she poured water from a pitcher into a basin and dipped the cloth into it.
Burke opened his eyes. It felt as if someone had taken a hammer to his skull. Throbbing pain radiated