time.
Maybe it was the artist in her that was making her stare—maybe it was simply the woman.
She sucked in a breath, straightened and cleared her throat. Somebody better say something, she figured, so she muttered her thanks, at least she thought that was what she said, she wasn’t altogether sure.
She managed a smile that fell a little short of true confidence. “Thank you, Mr….”
“Josh Colter,” he said with a grin that seemed to touch his lips and his eyes at the same instant. The change was startling. Those trembly nerves of hers moved up the scale to pulsing.
“Well, then, Mr. Colter, if you would accompany me to the desk?” Her voice sounded off, formal, but at least she had put a coherent sentence together.
“I’m yours to command,” he replied, wicked grin firmly in place. He hefted the baggage to a more comfortable position under his arms.
“You know, Mr. Colter—” she spoke as she walked “—a man could get himself into trouble being this forward.”
“Forward? Really?” His expression was all boyish innocence. “How so?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she mused, coming to a halt at the front desk. “A husband, for example, might take exception to a man flirting with his wife.”
His smile faltered, but he recovered so quickly she probably wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been looking right at him. She saw his gaze flick to her left hand, which was covered with a leather glove. This time she did keep her smile in check.
“And is there a husband I should be concerned about?” His tone indicated absolutely no misgiving at all. And, judging by the arsenal displayed on the counter, he was a man who could take care of himself in any situation, including going toe-to-toe with an irate husband.
Still there was a certain mischievous thrill about intimidating a man who looked so formidable. The fact that she was in a public place with help, she hoped, within earshot, bolstered her confidence. “One never knows…about husbands. They’re apt to turn up at any moment.”
“Ah.” He put the bags on the floor between them, one carpetbag sagging against her skirt. He lounged casually against the counter. “So I should be prepared to be called out?”
“Could be,” she replied, and hoped he didn’t notice the glint of amusement in her eyes.
She couldn’t miss the spark in his eyes, and it wasn’t amusement, that was for darned sure. No, that look was hotter than August in New Orleans and just as sultry. Her experience with men might be limited, but even a girl of fourteen would recognize the look.
She tore her gaze away, focused on a spot of chipped paint on the wall behind the desk and said, “Now, where’s that desk clerk? Never one around when you need—”
A man came careening around the doorway, speaking as he moved. “I found the pens I was looking for,” He waved a couple of pens and lurched to a halt when he spotted her.
“Are you speaking to me?” A bit confused, she glanced from the clerk to Josh and back again.
“No, ma’am. Sorry,” the clerk said. “I was looking for a pen for Mr….”
“Colter,” Josh supplied for the second time.
There was a moment of awkward silence, then Josh said, “Please.” He made a small gesture toward the register with his hand. “After you.” He took the pen from the clerk and offered it to her like a chevalier offering his sword.
“Thank you.”
She scribbled her name and Eddie’s, whom she’d sent on to the livery with the horses and wagon. He’d join her later for dinner.
“How long will you be staying?” The desk clerk asked the standard question.
“One night, I think. Maybe two. I’m not exactly certain.”
She’d thought she’d be here longer, maybe spend a few days in the area making sketches and, of course, visiting with her favorite brother. But, no, leave it to Davy to complicate matters. How could he have quit like that and then taken off for parts unknown? Now she not only had to complete her sketches for the competition but she had to find her brother, hopefully before her father got the news of Davy’s latest exploits.
Please don’t let Davy be in trouble.
She dropped the pen into the holder. “I’ll need two rooms. One room for me and one for my traveling companion. He’ll be along soon.” She added that traveling companion part deliberately. She enjoyed a bit of mystery, a bit of being… a touch risqué. Too long in Paris, she supposed.
“Yes, ma’am,” the clerk said casually, and she was disappointed at his lack of shock. Evidently things were more relaxed on the frontier.
He removed two keys from the brass hooks behind the desk. “Rooms 5 and 6. I’ll bring up the bags as soon as I finish with Mr. Colter.”
“Anytime is fine.”
“The rooms are connecting, if you—”
“Thank you.” She cut him off, seeing no need to explain herself or her traveling arrangements to anyone, particularly a tall, dark man who was taking this all in with undisguised interest.
“So, there is a husband, after all,” Josh said softly, his expression suddenly serious.
“And if there were?”
“I’d be disappointed. Of course, if you were my wife—” he let his gaze travel blatantly down the length of her and back again “—I would never ask for two rooms.”
Heat moved up her neck and skidded to a halt on her cheeks. She knew about sexual banter from her encounters with men in Paris, but she was getting in over her head here, and much as she hated to retreat, there was a time to fall back and regroup. This was definitely one of those times.
“If you’ll excuse me.” She kept exactly the right amount of aloofness in her voice.
She had one foot on the bottom stair when his voice stopped her.
“Then I’ll see you for dinner?”
“I think not.”
“Well, I have to eat and you have to eat and there is only one dining room, so unless you’re planning to eat in the saloon…” He arched one brow in question. “Besides, I’m looking forward to meeting your husband. He’s a lucky man.”
How could she not smile. “Good evening, Mr. Colter.”
Josh watched her go. The woman was something: beautiful, tempting and fun. Yes, fun, he realized with a start. He didn’t believe for a minute there was a husband, or, at least, he was hoping like hell there was no husband. He was banking on what he’d said earlier. No man who had her for a wife would willingly sleep alone. So who was the other room for? He didn’t know—sister, mother, brother—and he didn’t care. These past few minutes with her, he’d felt more like himself, more like the old Josh, than he had in weeks. A grin lingered on his lips when he turned back to register.
“You’re in Room 2, Mr. Colter,” the clerk prompted.
“What? Oh, thanks.” He reached for the pen when her whiskey-rich voice stopped him.
“Excuse me.”
Both men looked up. She was poised on the staircase, looking quite regal, he thought, even with that damn hat.
“I understand David Gibson had a room here. Is that right?”
Her words sliced through him like a lightning bolt. He must have heard her wrong. He went very still. Wariness coiled in the pit of his stomach. His gaze was riveted on the woman at the top of the stairs.
“Yes,” the clerk said. “Mr. Gibson did stay here, but