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The soft-voiced mockery had her, wishing for that gun. “Get out. ”
He slowly uncurled to his intimidating height. “You’re upset.”
She ground her teeth.
“Once you’ve cooled down, we’ll put our heads together about the best way to unload this property. Depending on what you get from its sale and the size of the bank draft you receive, I’m sure we’ll find another building that will suit you.”
“There is no we. As of this minute, we have no connection.”
“Sure we do.”
The man was a dense as an old leather boot. “I beg to differ.”
His dark eyes flashed. “Beg all you want, but the fact remains that my best friend is married to your best friend. I intend to honor his request to look after you.”
“You’re an overbearing, tyrannical, pompous blockhead.” It was as liberating as removing a corset to speak the words aloud. “I’m not a charity case to be passed about. I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”
He looked around the room with exaggerated interest. “Oh yeah, buying a brothel proves that.”
“You’ve proved you’re a mannerless cur. There’s no way you can force me to accept your assistance.”
He stepped toward her. “Watch me.”
“You don’t scare me.” She regretted keenly the trembling of her voice.
“Are you sure?”
She had the awful feeling she’d pulled the tiger’s tail and was about to be eaten alive. And there wasn’t a whip in sight. “I’ve never b-been more sure of anything in my life.”
“You interest me, Miss Stoneworthy.”
As would a pork loin? His look was definitely predatory. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Ah, now you’re being sensible.”
“S-sensible?” She’d never stuttered in her life, until now.
“I wanted to see that look of panic in your beautiful green eyes upstairs. It took you long enough to realize some men won’t dance to your tune, though a very sweet tune it is.”
“You’re not making any sense.” She stopped retreating when she felt the bar pushing against her back.
“I’m making ‘man’ sense.”
Aunt Euphemia, wherever you are, everything you ever said about men is true. They’re incomprehensible, barbaric creatures who should be living in caves, or trees, or under rocks.
She raised her palm. “If you touch me, I’ll knock you unconscious again.”
“With your bare hands?”
She raised her chin. “I’ll tell Emma on you.”
He rolled his eyes. “What kind of threat is that?”
“She’ll tell her husband, and he’ll...beat you up.”
It could happen.
“You’ve got me shaking in my boots.”
She wished she were big enough to take him on. His quivering lips betrayed his amusement at her puny arsenal of threats.
A ferocious pounding had Jayne almost jumping out of her skin.
“Damn, just when things were getting interesting,” Youngblood growled.
She pivoted and raced to the door, throwing it open in grateful anticipation of greeting her unknown rescuer. There stood her cheerful miner, bless his heart, all seven feet of him. She’d never dreamed a big galoot could look so beautiful.
“Hello, come in.” She reached for his arm. “It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”
He beamed down at her. “I’m doing mighty fine, Miss Stoneworthy. I told you I would be back, and here I am.”
“Yes, indeed, you did.” And you’re big enough to flatten a grizzly, let alone one insufferable banker.
Newt looked past her. “I see you got company. How do, Mr. Youngblood?”
“Hello, Newt.”
Drat, from the miner’s respectful tone, there probably wouldn’t be any bloodshed. She sighed. “You know Mr. Youngblood?”
“I sure do. I wouldn’t put my money in any other bank but his. The First National is as safe as if St. Peter himself were guarding it.”
“It’s been robbed three times,” she pointed out waspishly.
“Yep, but they didn’t get away with any money.”
“That’s right, your money’s safe with us.” The banker surprised Jayne by heading toward the door. Hooray, he was finally leaving.
He pointed to the plank of wood the miner carried. “What do you have there, Newt?”
The miner held up the board into which uneven letters had been burned. “I had this sign made up at the smithy’s for Miss Stoneworthy so everyone will know this ain’t a cathouse anymore, begging your pardon, miss.”
In disbelief, Jayne stared at the words branded into the wood.
“The Miz Stunworthee Skull of Tootering fer Yung Laddies,” Youngblood read aloud, pronouncing the catastrophically misspelled words correctly.
“Do you like it?” Newt asked, his voice brimming with pride.
“How thoughtful of you to make it,” Jayne answered weakly.
“Don’t mention it. I’ll grab a hammer and some nails and put it up.”
Jayne rubbed her forehead.
“It doesn’t matter.” Youngblood pitched his voice so it reached her ears alone. “The sign won’t drive off any prospective business. You’ll be out of here by nightfall.”
Her head jerked up. “No, I won’t.”
“There’s no way I’m going to let you spend another night in this place.”
“You have no say in anything I—”
“Shut up, Jayne,” he said softly.
Newt returned with the hammer. If she gave the command “attack,” would he use it on the banker?
“Won’t be but another minute, Miss Stoneworthy.”
“Thank you.”
“Pack up a few of your things,” Youngblood continued, “I’ll take you to a hotel. Tomorrow we’ll get serious about finding you a new building.”
“Listen, you—”
Energetic hammering muffled her protest. In the subsequent silence, Youngblood leaned closer.
“No, you listen. I’m bigger, more determined and meaner than you are. You might not like it, but I’ve taken an interest in you and, for better or worse, you’re stuck with my involvement.”
His statement sounded like a demented wedding vow.
“But you can’t make me—”
“Sure I can.”
“There are laws—”
“A respectable lady wanting to run a fancy girls’ school can’t afford to draw the wrong kind of attention. It would be the kiss of death for your name to be linked with any unsavory gossip. I guarantee going to the sheriff in a misguided attempt to make me behave myself would unleash a flurry of wild rumors.”
“That’s coercion!”
“Highly effective coercion. Pack and be ready when I return.”
She stared at his broad, retreating back. Good heavens, her life had just been taken from her control.
Aunt Euphemia, it’s far worse than you supposed. Some men are more primitive than any ancient beasts who ever stalked the earth.
Newt poked his shaggy head inside. “You want to make sure I got the sign straight?”
Chapter Four
Jayne went to her bedchamber’s open window and pushed aside white curtains to look at the street below. From her second-story vantage point, she saw that dusk was settling over the shops, taverns and passersby. Burke Youngblood had not returned and made good on his outrageous threat to collect her as if she were a shipment of cabbages.
Despite the coming night’s warmth, Jayne shivered. The banker’s decisive manner appeared intrinsic to his nature. It seemed foolish to hope his bold declaration had been vainly uttered. Yet hope she did, clinging to the possibility that good sense had prevailed over his rash statements, and he intended to leave her in peace.
She let the curtains slip through her fingers and turned. The sturdy dresser blocking her locked bedchamber door had required relentless pushing and prodding to budge.
Burke Youngblood had scarcely entered her life, and he’d already caused her a great deal of trouble. It was as Aunt Euphemia said. A man might appear in the guise of offering help, but he usually ended up becoming a burden.
Jayne surveyed her barricaded domain and, pronouncing it impregnable against any invasion, went to the bed and picked up an unwieldy drawer. Because she’d gone to all this work to keep him out, he probably wouldn’t come. That was one of life’s ironies. Expected calamities rarely occurred, while ones that couldn’t be foreseen arrived with bass drums.
Burke stood on the boardwalk across the street from Jayne Stoneworthy’s ill-fated school. He’d seen the curtains flutter moments ago and recognized her profile at the bedchamber window. The vagueness of her outline frustrated him. He wanted to prove that she wasn’t the elusive creature who’d been teasing the edges of his thoughts. She was real. And damned if he didn’t want to unravel the mystery of her effect upon him.
He took a slow drag on his cheroot and contemplated the second-story window. What on earth had possessed him to carry her upstairs and throw her on that bed? When he’d stepped inside the building, his purpose had been clear, to teach her that she couldn’t take up residence in a former brothel and open her door to any man who knocked.
Somewhere along the line, he’d crossed the edge of reason and pushed things beyond the bounds of decency. He wanted to blame her for the fiasco. His decision to treat her like a saloon girl had been sound. By all rights, she should have been terrified for her safety. When he’d backed off, she should have been grateful for the time and effort he’d taken to demonstrate her precarious situation and humbly thanked him. Then she should have cheerfully agreed to vacate the premises.
He hadn’t backed off....
Burke scowled. He would have, if she’d played her part correctly. As twilight deepened, so did the grimness of his mood. For better or for worse, he’d issued an ultimatum. Unless a demand was enforced, it was worthless. The question of the hour was, did he intend to back up his words?
A primitive quickening surged. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted to barge into her bedchamber and insist she follow the wise course he’d charted for her. It wasn’t his nature to act impetuously. That this woman made him want to abandon caution did more than surprise him. He was shocked by his desire to stretch out his arm and use the considerable resources at his command to bend her to his will.
No, not bend. He wanted her to admit her folly and yield to his superior wisdom, so he could rescue her and her fledgling school from ruin.
And then?
He chose not to think that far ahead. The memory of sharing a bed with her soft body twisting beneath him was too raw to permit long-range planning. He would proceed one step at a time. First, she had to be dislodged from the Wet Beaver.
Burke studied the second-story window. Beneath it, a narrow ledge spanned the building. He guessed the plank’s width to be twelve inches. The conversation he’d had with Gideon several months ago returned. At the time, Burke had thought his friend had lost his mind to engage in such hotheaded theatrics as scaling a wall during a rainstorm.
Even in his youth, Burke hadn’t been hotheaded. His thirtieth birthday was behind him. It was a little late to entertain rash thoughts about climbing buildings and traipsing across narrow ledges.
His gaze lowered to the smoldering tip of his cheroot. He definitely wasn’t hotheaded. The same couldn’t be said about the blood flowing through his veins. Imagining Jayne Stoneworthy in an old-fashioned nightgown with her incredibly kissable lips tilted toward him made him hot all over.
He flicked the thin cigar to the boardwalk and ground out the flame. Evidently the certainty that he was about to make an even more colossal fool of himself wasn’t sufficient reason to prevent him from proceeding.
He strode determinedly across the street. Some things couldn’t be stopped. He was going to find out what it was about Miss Stoneworthy that agitated his restlessness and prodded a streak of protectiveness he hadn’t known he’d possessed. He didn’t delude himself that the answer would come easily.
He did delude himself that he could navigate the skinny ledge without breaking his neck. No way was his cemetery headstone going to read “Here lies Burke Youngblood, cut down in his prime as a cathouse he did climb.”
Jayne had a passionate aversion to people who failed to keep their word. She balefully regarded the dresser wedged against the door. It had taken a lot of hard work to put it there. The least Burke could do was show up, pound futilely to gain admittance and then crawl away with his tail between his legs—fitting retribution for terrorizing her this afternoon.
A blur of movement drew her glance to the open window where a man’s booted foot suddenly appeared. Before she could react, the rest of him emerged through the opening. He uncurled to full prominence. Burke Youngblood!
As if her thoughts had delivered him to her bedchamber, he loomed tall and foreboding—scowling, dust-covered and holding a long-haired gray cat in the crook of his arm. The hardness of his expression was so at odds with the soft feline he cradled that she was struck momentarily speechless.
His gaze went to the dresser blocking the entry to her room. “That’s the first predictable thing you’ve done since I met you.”
“How dare you invade my bedchamber!”
“Save the maidenly outrage for later.”
That sounded ominous. “I don’t foresee there being a later between us.”
“Then you’re shortsighted.” He shoved the bundle of gray fur toward her. “Is this yours?”
She automatically accepted the bedraggled feline. “I don’t have any pets.” The cat, a big one, was surprisingly relaxed and limp-boned at being held by a stranger. “Did you climb all the way up here, carrying him? He must weigh ten pounds.”
Burke’s lips turned downward in obvious disgust. “I didn’t start out with him. He joined me on the way up and used my back for a ladder.”
“Uh, well, that’s interesting.” She tried to hand the animal back to him. “Since he isn’t mine, you can take him and go.”
“I’m not taking him anywhere, and when I leave it’s going to be through that door with you beside me.”
Claws dug warningly into Jayne’s’ arm. She realized she was squeezing the cat and eased her grip. “I thought that by now you would have come to your senses where I’m concerned.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Did you?”
Needing the freedom of her hands to express herself, she sat her furry burden on the rumpled bed. “If you’ll look at the situation logically, you’ll see that my problems are none of your concern. This afternoon, in heat of our debate, things got out of control. We both made some imprudent statements.”
“Did we?”
His enigmatic expression revealed nothing about what he was thinking.
“As a practical, coolheaded businessman, you must agree I’m right.”
“Which would make me...wrong?”
“Umm...” It had been her observation that men didn’t like admitting when they were wrong. “Let’s just say that you were overzealous this afternoon in seeing to my welfare.”
“All right.”
She blinked. Never in a million years would she have expected him to be so reasonable. “You agree with me?”
He shrugged. “I can see where I came on a little strong.”
A little strong? A cavalry troop charging into battle would have exhibited more restraint. “I suppose that’s all that needs to be said.”
“Since I have no intention of climbing back out the window, you won’t mind if I move that dresser?”
The sudden change of subject caught her off guard. Her gaze swung to the massive piece of furniture. “Of course not. But let me assist you. It’s extremely difficult to maneuver.”
“That’s all right. I can handle it.”
And he did. She scarcely had time to appreciate his display of muscular strength before the deed was accomplished.
He opened the door. The cat bounded down the stairs. Instead of imitating the feline’s speedy departure, Burke propped his shoulder negligently against the door frame and studied her with disturbing intensity.
“So what have you decided?” he asked.
“About this place?”
“For starters.”
She looked around regretfully. “I suppose I’ll have to sell the building and find another.”
“That could take a while.”
“July is almost gone,” she’d said unhappily. “I’d hoped to open my school for a fall session.”
“It’s going to be tough to make that deadline.”
“I know. The only bright spot on the horizon is the bank draft I’m expecting from Uncle Clarence.”
It seemed odd to share her feelings with a virtual stranger. And yet something about Burke’s implacable strength encouraged a confidence or two. Despite his shocking lack of manners, she sensed in him an astute mind capable of untangling complex problems. What would it be like to call such a man friend and benefit from his store of knowledge?
The direction of her thoughts astonished Jayne. The last thing she wanted or needed was an ally as domineering as Burke Youngblood. At the first opportunity, he would become a tyrant.
Loud male voices poured through the window. Jayne winced. She was getting used to being awakened during the night by rowdy revelers.
Burke rubbed his jaw. “After I left today, I did some checking.”
“Checking?”
“About possible sites for the kind of school you want to open.”
He had her undivided attention. “And?”
“I might have found something that will work for you.”
When he failed to elaborate, Jayne assumed he’d devised a new way to torture her. He was going to force her to pry the information from him. Pride tempted her to send him on his way without making any inquiries.
Strange, she hadn’t realized before that an overabundance of pride was a flaw with which she had to contend.
She thought she detected a hint of amusement in his dark eyes. He knew, blast his black heart, that he’d baited his hook with an irresistible lure. Her desire to maintain control over her life warred violently against the untenable situation in which she’d inadvertently placed herself. No one was going to send their daughter to a school that had formerly been a brothel.
From the street below, another spate of rude laughter filled her chamber. Postponing the moment of surrender, which was how she viewed soliciting any information from him, she walked to the window. It appeared that, even after she rid herself of Burke Youngblood’s presence, another raucous night would prevent her from getting a decent night’s sleep.
She stared down at the street. Wild and woolly men seemed to come alive after dark. While under the influence of intoxicating spirits, they weren’t reticent at whooping their nighttime jubilation at the top of their lungs.
Her gaze dropped to the narrow ledge. It was a miracle that Youngblood had reached her in one piece. She frowned. Technically speaking, she supposed the safe arrival of Burke Youngblood in her bedchamber ought not to be termed a miracle. It should be called a catastrophe.
She turned. It was time to forget pride. She would pump him for all the information she could drain, get him to vacate the premises and maintain control of her destiny.
“I’m very interested in hearing about the building you’ve found.”
She was shocked at the physical and emotional distress the moderately expressed words caused. Her skin burned, her throat tightened and her hands shook. Her discomfort sprang from more than the simple act of swallowing her pride. Something about making herself vulnerable to this man sent out a war cry that she don a full coat of armor.
Somehow, on a battlefield utterly alien to her, she and Burke Youngblood had become engaged in a compelling conflict, the scope of which was shrouded in mystery. For a panicky moment, she wanted to run. Reason intruded. Surely it was only her imagination fostering these fanciful images of swordplay, of victors and losers, of...absolute surrender.
“I’ll show you the building in the morning.”
She rubbed her forehead. It made sense to see the location by light of day, but she was uneasy about spending more time in his disturbing company. “All right.”
“Have you packed the things you’ll need to stay at a hotel?”
The blandly asked question made her head snap up. She’d assumed he’d forgotten his demand that she sleep elsewhere. This was it, the one issue upon which she wouldn’t compromise. It was one thing to accept business advice from him. She had to draw the line, however, at letting him dominate her personal life.
She drew a deep breath. “Mr. Youngblood—”
“Burke,” he corrected quietly, straightening from his casual stance at the doorway. “Since we’re going to be working together to get this school of yours established, we. might as well be on a first-name basis.”
Again she experienced the sensation that he was taking over, but calling him by his first name was no grave hardship. “Burke, I’m not staying at a hotel.”
He stepped toward her. “I know you’d rather remain here, but it’s Friday night. The saloons are brimming with miners, cowpunchers, gamblers and fancy women. Tomorrow will be even worse. This building happens to be sitting in the middle of all the excitement. You aren’t safe here, Jayne.”
“I haven’t had any trouble.” She tried to ignore the music, laughter and quarrelsome voices that kept intruding upon their conversation.
“It’s blind luck that trouble hasn’t already found you. Be sensible. Cut your losses and spend the night where you know you’ll be safe.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you explain why you’re determined to involve yourself in my life.” She hadn’t planned on demanding an explanation for his forced entry into her world, but she needed to know what was motivating his sudden concern for her and her school.
A half smile slanted his narrow lips. Her heart performed a most peculiar maneuver—something between a flip and a twist.
“I guess I have been a little high-handed,” he drawled.
High-handed? Again she was put in mind of a military confrontation. Forget the cavalry. He’d thundered into her sphere with the jarring force of barbarian hordes sweeping across ancient Europe.
Doubting he would appreciate the comparison, she searched for words that wouldn’t further inflame his domineering tendencies. “You’ve been acting as if you were the most tyrannical of fathers.”
He flinched, but the smile remained. “Believe me, I have no intention of acting like your father.”
Jayne decided he was. deliberately trying to charm her. She hardly knew how to react. No man had ever focused this form of attention upon her. It was disheartening to discover that recognizing his ploy didn’t free her from his magnetism.
“I can’t believe you take this kind of interest in all Denver’s fledgling businesses,” she pressed determinedly.
“I’d be lying if I said so,” he admitted. “Do you always know the reasons behind everything you do?”
“Of course. One can’t blunder through life.”
“Ah, so I’m dealing with a woman of logic.”
“You’re dealing with a woman who wants to know why you’re willing to invest time, effort and money on her behalf.”
“I assume the suspiciousness I’m detecting is based upon your late aunt’s dire warnings about accepting favors from men.”
“Aunt Euphemia’s philosophy about the male gender has nothing to do with this. Credit me with enough intelligence to recognize you could very well have an ulterior motive for assisting me. I have no intention of placing myself under your influence without knowing what you expect in return.”
Jayne knew she was pink-cheeked, but she needed to know what lay behind his sudden desire to help.
“I approve of your cautious attitude. A number of men might expect certain favors in exchange for their help. A wise woman pays attention to such things. I assure you, though, I have no ulterior motives.”
His eyes held an almost whimsical expression that weakened her resolve to challenge him. She was amazed by the degree of energy it took to withstand his charm. “Trust has to be earned.”
“Life’s taught me the same lesson,” he said quietly. “The reason I’m willing to put my resources at your disposal are twofold. First, I have this character quirk of rooting for underdogs.”