bully her.
“I don’t recall us having any plans together,” she said, facing Case squarely.
Case nearly smiled at her show of defiance. For a woman experienced in pleasing men with her voice, she didn’t hesitate to challenge him, given the chance. “I want to talk to you,” he said. “We can have a late supper in the dining room.”
Jack made a move as if to object, but Katlyn touched his sleeve in warning. Neither of them could afford to be out of work now. She turned to him with a smile, saying lightly, “I know you’re anxious to find a game. I’ll collect my champagne tomorrow, if your luck is good.”
“Count on it,” Jack said. He gave Case a sharp nod before moving off toward one of the crowded gaming tables.
Case watched him for a moment, frowning, and Katlyn couldn’t help contrasting the two men. Jack, with his sun-gilded hair and carefree smile, was all lightness, while Case, dark and imposing, seemed to command her attention just by his presence.
Looking at him, she had a sick feeling he’d arranged this little supper to tell her nicely to leave his hotel. When he turned back to her, Katlyn decided to fling caution aside and confront him. “If you intend to tell me to go, I’d rather you do it now.”
Case raised a brow. “I intend to have supper.” Grinding out the cheroot on the tray at Jack’s piano, he told her shortly, “In two hours, in the dining room. I’ll be expecting you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with one or two of my guests.”
He left her before she could refuse and as Katlyn watched him go, she wondered if her short career as Penelope Rose was over before it had really ever begun.
Katlyn retreated to her rooms to strip off the emerald satin, yank the pins from her hair, and wash away her heavy makeup. After a short rest, she hesitated, then put on the simple dark blue dress she’d worn on the trip to Cimarron. It wasn’t exactly elegant, but it was hers, only one of two that had survived the stage robbery. If she had to wear her mother’s frills to perform, at least she would be comfortable when she stepped offstage.
Downstairs, she glanced into the saloon on her way to meet Case in the dining room. A few stragglers stood at the bar, tossing back the last dregs from a whiskey bottle. Seeing her, Case snuffed out his cheroot then moved to ease the men out of the saloon. He draped his arms over their shoulders and led them toward the door. Amiably, they swayed out of the saloon, leaving Case and Katlyn alone to face each other in the hallway.
Case looked at her, momentarily caught off guard by her transformation. Dressed plainly, with her hair loose and her face scrubbed clean she looked so completely different he wondered if she were the same woman.
The change in her reminded him of her performance, affected and awkward at first, natural and engaging at the end. Except which image was the true Katlyn McLain?
“Are you hungry?” Case said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence between them.
Katlyn chose to ignore his scrutiny of her. It was obvious her change in appearance confused him, and she didn’t want to encourage unwanted questions. “Starving. I was too nervous to eat all day.”
“You? Nervous?” He cast her a doubtful glance. “I find that hard to believe. Though I suppose that would explain your testiness before your performance.”
“If I was testy, it was only because this was an important night,” Katlyn retorted. “I wanted to do well.”
“But this can’t be new to you, you must have sung in places like this countless times.”
“No, Mr. Durham, I can honestly say I’ve never sung in a place like this. And besides, believe it or not, some things just don’t get any easier.”
Case gave her a wry smile. “That much is true.” He offered her his arm. “Dinner is ready. Let’s go celebrate your first performance at my hotel.”
“I’m not sure a celebration is in order,” Katlyn muttered under her breath. But she laid her hand on his arm and let him lead her toward the dining room.
Katlyn tried to appear cool and poised as she walked alongside Case. Inside, she quaked. The flex of hard muscle under her fingers reminded her too forcibly of Case Durham’s strength, both in body and will.
Beside him, she felt an unsettling combination of vulnerability and reassurance. With a word, he could leave her desperate. Without saying anything, he made her feel strangely secure, as if she could trust his strength to protect her.
It made no sense and Katlyn didn’t try to figure it out. All she wanted now was to get through dinner with her job and her secret intact.
As they walked into the formal dining room, she saw only one table was still draped in crisp white linen, set with fine china and crystal champagne goblets. Three silvery roses blossomed out of a cut-glass vase that picked up glints of light from the lamps and chandeliers, completing the elegant setting.
Katlyn glanced from the table to Case. “This is lovely. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Case said as he pulled her chair out and seated her, then took his place across the small round table. “Except I’m afraid I’d be less than truthful if I said this was especially for you.”
“I see…After my performance, I suppose I should consider myself lucky to be sitting here at all.” As soon as the words left her lips, Katlyn inwardly groaned. She had to find some way of harnessing her tongue instead of impulsively blurting out the first thing that came into her head, or she’d soon find herself giving up all her secrets to Case Durham.
She looked at Case, half expecting to see his intimidating scowl directed fully at her. Instead a corner of his mouth twitched up in a half smile, and Katlyn had the distinct impression he was laughing at her.
“It’s clear I’ll never have to guess at what you’re thinking,” he said.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not? You’re direct, I like that. It’s honest.”
Honest…Katlyn felt hot color burn her face. She tried to laugh in return, acutely aware of how strained it sounded. But before she could think of any reply, Case, for the first time since she’d set foot in the St. Martin, smiled fully at her.
The gesture drove any thought from Katlyn’s mind. Warm, for once lacking that faint sardonic edge, his smile made her suddenly aware of how many facets there were to his attractiveness. It betrayed a certain kindness and understanding he hid well behind the impression he usually projected as a commanding employer and ambitious businessman.
“I should explain, about dinner,” Case said. He leaned back in his chair. “This is something of a ritual with me, my peace after the saloon closes. After Emily is in bed and the hotel is quiet, I come here to relax.” He laughed wryly. “Call it my one indulgence.” He pulled a chilled bottle of champagne from a silver cooler. “But this is in honor of you. To congratulate you on your first performance at the St. Martin.”
“It’s very generous of you. But I hope you don’t feel you’re wasting it. I know tonight was less than impressive.”
Case took his time filling their glasses, appraising Katlyn as he handed her one. She obviously expected his criticism, or worse. Sitting stiffly in her chair, her color bright and her chin high, she kindled a reluctant admiration in him.
She might be afraid of whatever he had to say, but she wouldn’t cower or plead. If he knew anything for certain about her it was that Katlyn McLain was a fighter.
“At times, you were very impressive,” Case said, remembering how she had sung that sweet, haunting ballad to him alone. He lifted his glass. “To the St. Louis Songbird.”
“To the success of the St. Martin,” Katlyn amended as she touched her glass to his.
She tried to feel relief at his words. Yet she hated accepting any praise as