Promoted to Wife?

Always the dutiful daughter, Fanny Mitchell surprised everyone when she broke her engagement. Now she’s working at the fancy Hotel Dupree—and falling for the mysterious, handsome owner, Jonathon Hawkins. But when she and her boss are caught in an unexpected kiss at a ball, will her reputation be tarnished forever?

The son of a woman of ill repute, Jonathon knows that gossip can destroy lives in an instant. And he won’t allow sweet, lovely Fanny to suffer the consequences. When he proposes a marriage of convenience, Jonathon believes he can keep his heart to himself. But the more time he spends with Fanny, the more he realizes he may just be in love—with his wife...

Charity House: Offering an oasis of hope, faith and love on the rugged Colorado frontier

“I am completely at fault,” Fanny choked between inhales.

“Not completely, no.” Jonathon’s deep voice poured warmth over her cold heart. “We share the blame and will face the consequences together, no matter how dire or life-altering.”

He did not mention marriage, but he was thinking it. The evidence was there, in the grim twist of his lips and the stern set of his shoulders.

She’d dragged this man into a place he’d vowed never to go.

“Come.” He tugged her toward the ballroom, toward their moment of reckoning. “Time to face the good people of Denver.”

He guided her to the very edge of the French doors. A few more steps and they would cross over the threshold, into a future neither of them truly wanted. Jonathon for his reasons.

Fanny for hers.

She shot a glance at Jonathon from beneath her lashes. Even in the dense, flickering shadows, she recognized the resolve in his eyes, the willingness to do whatever was necessary to protect her from another scandal.

She could not let him compromise his future for hers.

RENEE RYAN grew up in a Florida beach town where she learned to surf, sort of. With a degree from FSU, she explored career opportunities at a Florida theme park, a modeling agency and even taught high school economics. She currently lives with her husband in Nebraska, and many have mistaken their overweight cat for a small bear. You may contact Renee at reneeryan.com, on Facebook or on Twitter, @ReneeRyanBooks.

The Marriage Agreement

Renee Ryan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well.

—Psalms 139:13–14

For Cindy Kirk and Nancy Robards Thompson, the best plotting partners on the planet. Thank you for walking beside me throughout the process of writing this book and being willing to help me plot myself out of a corner far too many times to admit. I love you both!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Quote

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The Hotel Dupree, Denver, Colorado 1896

Shadows sculpted the darkened ballroom as Fanny Mitchell awaited her employer’s arrival. A happy sigh leaked out of her, echoing off the ornate walls. She loved this cavernous, oft overlooked room, loved it above all others in the hotel.

An expectant, almost dreamy silence hung in the air, as if Fanny was on the brink of something new and wonderful. Arms outstretched, she executed an uninhibited spin across the dance floor. Then stopped abruptly, frowning at her whimsy.

A quick tug on her sleeves, a readjustment of her skirt, and she was back to being the oh-so-proper guest-services manager of the finest hotel in Denver, Colorado.

Decorum restored, she continued her inspection at a more sedate pace. In four days, Mrs. Beatrix Singletary would hold her annual charity ball in this very room. Three hundred of Denver’s most important residents were invited to attend, including most of Fanny’s family. It would be the first time the widow held the event outside her home. Fanny suspected this change in venue was because Mrs. Singletary now owned one quarter of the Hotel Dupree.

As owner of the other three quarters, Fanny’s employer wished to impress his new business partner with the efficiency of their hotel staff. Fanny would not let him down.

She would not let herself down. This was her chance to prove she was more than the gossips claimed, more than the labels others had attached to her since childhood.

By organizing this particular function, the largest and most anticipated of the year, Fanny would finally show the good people of Denver that she was worthy of their respect. That she hadn’t jilted one of the most highly respected men in town on impulse, or because of some hidden flaw in her character.

Her decision had been well thought out and for all the right reasons.

Fanny moved to a nearby wall and pressed a switch on the raised panel. The recently installed Maria Theresa chandelier came alive with light.

The absurd fee to ship the exquisite fixture from Europe had been well worth the cost. Airy and delicate, the handblown glass and crystal rosettes twisted around the metal frame in such a way as to give the illusion of a floating waterfall.

Continuing her inspection, she made mental notes where to put tables, chairs and the myriad of flower arrangements she’d personally designed.

This was what she was born to do, taking an annual event people talked about for months and turning it into an even more spectacular occasion.

Why, then, did she experience a sudden burst of melancholy? Why this strange bout of dissatisfaction?

Fanny knew, of course.

She would soon celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday. Unlike her four married siblings, Fanny had no one special in her life.

There was still time for her own happily-ever-after. For now, she would focus on the many blessings the Lord had bestowed on her. She had siblings who adored her, parents who supported her unconditionally and a job she loved, working beside a man she greatly admired.

“Fanny,” a deep, masculine voice called from behind her, the tone a mix of amusement and lazy drawl. “You’ve arrived ahead of me as usual.”

She ignored a rush of anticipation and slowly pivoted around to face her employer. For one dreadful, wonderful moment, her heart lifted.

There he stood, framed in the doorway. Jonathon Hawkins. The intensely private, overly serious, wildly successful hotelier, whose rags to riches story inspired everyone he met, Fanny most of all.

He was so competent, so handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of glossy, dark brown hair, he attracted more than his fair share of female attention.

He seemed oblivious to his effect on women. His mantra was business first, business always. Though she felt a sad heart tug over his resolve to remain unattached and childless, Fanny appreciated his single-minded focus.

That was, at any rate, her official stand on the matter.

His mouth curved in an easy half smile and a sudden dizziness struck her.

“Mr. Hawkins.” She ordered her heartbeat to slow to a normal rate. “You’ll be pleased to know I’ve secured—”

He lifted a hand to stop her. “You agreed to call me Jonathon.”

Her breath snagged on a skittering rush of air. Of course. They’d been on a first-name basis for over a year. She’d nearly forgotten in his absence, though he’d been gone but a week.

“I...yes, I...” Get control of yourself, Fanny. “Are you ready for our final walk-through, Jonathon?”

“I am, indeed.” He pushed away from the door frame.

Here we go, she thought, silently bracing for the impact of his nearness.

As his long, purposeful strides ate up the distance between them, she noted how he moved with predatory grace. Jonathon Hawkins was a study in contradictions, a man who could be sophisticated and mannerly, or cunning and shrewd, depending on the situation.

He stopped, leaving a perfectly appropriate amount of space between them. Always the gentleman, she thought. She knew enough about his past to find that especially intriguing. And there went that sad little heart tug again.

“Shall we begin?” Under the bright glow of the chandelier, his eyes seemed to hold a thousand shades of blue.

She swallowed back a sigh. “Yes.”

“After you.” He gestured for her to take the lead.

For a dangerous moment, she couldn’t make her feet work properly. Jonathon seemed different today, more intent, more focused. His silvery-blue eyes gleamed with intelligence and something else, something she knew better than to define.

Quickly breaking eye contact, she directed him to the far right corner of the ballroom. Their heels struck the freshly polished floor in perfect rhythm with one another.

“We’ll set up banquet tables here and...over there.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the opposite corner. “This will allow easy access to the food without obstructing the general flow of traffic to and from the dance floor.”

He studied the two spaces. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if picturing the setup in his mind. “Excellent.”

Pleased by his approval, she continued guiding him through the room, stopping at various points along the way to explain her ideas in greater detail. When they were once again standing in the spot where they’d begun, she drew in a deep breath. “Do you have any questions or concerns?”

“Not at the moment.” He smiled down at her. “Thank you, Fanny. As always, you’ve thought of everything.”

Had she? She turned in a slow circle, attempting to determine if there’d been a forgotten detail, something they were both missing. When nothing came to mind, she returned his smile. “I think we’re ready.”

“So it would seem.”

A moment of silent understanding passed between them. His expression was so full of meaning, so unexpectedly affectionate, she thought he might lean in closer and...and...

She quickly looked away. “I hope Mrs. Singletary agrees.”

That earned her a soft chuckle. “You’ve left nothing to chance. I’m confident your efforts will find favor with the illustrious Beatrix Singletary.”

“Did I hear someone mention my name?” As if she’d been waiting for her cue, the widow materialized in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other poised against her chin.

On anyone else, the pose would look ridiculous. Not on Mrs. Singletary. She was a woman with flair, always dressed impeccably in the latest fashion. A renowned beauty in her day, the widow had golden-brown hair that was a perfect foil for her fair complexion. Her face showed few signs that nearly four and a half decades had passed since her birth.

Fanny liked the woman. She especially appreciated the way she ran her vast fortune, and hoped to learn much from her now that she’d joined forces with Jonathon.

As was his custom, he stepped forward and greeted the widow by placing a light kiss to her extended hand. “It’s always a pleasure to see you in the hotel, Mrs. Singletary.”

“It’s always a pleasure to be in the hotel, Mr. Hawkins.”

Mouth tilted at an amused angle, he released her hand. “Would you prefer a walk-through of the ballroom now, or after we review the final guest list?”

“Now, of course. We did, after all, come here first.”

One dark eyebrow shot up. “We?”

“My companion and I. Do come along, Philomena.” A slight crease marred the widow’s forehead as she glanced over her shoulder. “Lurking in the shadows is quite unseemly.”

The young woman hurried forward.

Philomena Ferguson was, to Fanny’s thinking, the most likable of the seven Ferguson sisters. With her remarkable hazel eyes, golden-brown hair and flawless complexion, she was also the most beautiful. Her pale green shirtwaist dress, cut in an A-line silhouette, only served to enhance her extraordinary looks.

Wondering if Jonathon noticed Philomena’s undeniable charms, Fanny slid a glance at him. He was still looking at her. Not Philomena, her.

Fanny knew better than to read too much into his attentiveness. The one occasion she’d thought he might actually kiss her, or perhaps profess a personal interest in her, he’d taken the opportunity to explain the motivation behind his refusal to marry. Ever.

This time, when the heart tug came, she shoved it aside with a fast, determined swallow.

“Mr. Hawkins.” Mrs. Singletary tapped his arm, the gesture sufficiently pulling his attention away from Fanny. “I believe you’ve met my companion.”

“We are acquainted. Miss Ferguson.” He cast a pleasant, if somewhat distant smile in Philomena’s direction. “Lovely to see you again.”

An attractive blush spread across her cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Hawkins, and you as well.”

As she bounced her gaze between the two, a speculative gleam lit Mrs. Singletary’s eye.

That look put Fanny instantly on guard. It was no secret the widow considered herself an accomplished matchmaker. For good reason. Mrs. Singletary had proved herself quite skilled at ferreting out potential love matches. One of her most recent successes involved Fanny’s childhood friend Molly Taylor Scott, who was now married to Fanny’s brother, Garrett.

Thanks, also, to the widow’s efforts, her sister was happily settled, as well—to Fanny’s former fiancé. She was glad Callie and Reese had found one another. They’d married for love, which was the only reason for pledging lifelong vows, to Fanny’s way of thinking. Marrying for anything less than an all-consuming love would be tantamount to imprisonment.

Mrs. Singletary’s eyes sharpened over Jonathon and Philomena. Oh, no. Did the widow have her next match in mind?

“Well, then, Mr. Hawkins.” A sly smile spread across the widow’s lips. “Since you and my companion are already acquainted, I trust you have no objection to attending the opera with us tomorrow evening.”

Fanny made a soft sound of protest in her throat, barely audible, but Jonathon must have caught it because he asked, “You have a concern?”

Think, Fanny, think.

“We’re scheduled to, ah, review next month’s bookings tomorrow afternoon.” An endeavor that almost always went late. She started to say as much but stopped when she glanced at Mrs. Singletary’s raised eyebrow. “However, we can certainly reschedule.”

Jonathon frowned at her. “Reschedule? But we always—”

“Oh, excellent,” Mrs. Singletary declared, cutting him off midsentence. “This is most excellent, indeed. You, Mr. Hawkins, are now perfectly free to join Philomena and me tomorrow evening.”

His frown deepened. “Mrs. Singletary, I cannot attend the opera when I have a prior commitment here at the hotel.”

“Miss Mitchell.” Mrs. Singletary gave Fanny a pointed stare. “You don’t mind, do you, dear, if Philomena and I steal your employer away for one evening?”

Actually, she minded a great deal. “Certainly not.”

Jonathon opened his mouth, then shut it again as he considered the widow through narrowed eyes. “You seem very determined I join you.”

“I am quite determined.”

“Why?”

Undaunted by his suspicious tone, Mrs. Singletary gave a jaunty wave of her hand. “Considering the nature of our business relationship, I am determined we get to know one another on a more personal level. The opera is an excellent place to start.”

Fanny shook her head at the widow’s flimsy excuse. Surely Mrs. Singletary had figured out by now that no one knew Jonathon Hawkins on a personal level. He always held a portion of himself back, never letting anyone past the polished facade. It was that mysterious air that made him so attractive to women, and so confounding to Fanny.

“I appreciate the invitation,” he said at last. “But I must decline.”

He did not expand on his reasons.

A brief battle of wills ensued, but Mrs. Singletary gave in graciously after only a few seconds. “I suppose we will have to try for another time.”

He smiled. Or maybe he didn’t. Fanny wasn’t sure what that twist of his lips meant. “Indeed we will,” he said.

“Well, now.” The widow clapped her hands together. “Shall we begin our tour of this lovely ballroom?”

Before anyone could respond, she linked her arm with Fanny’s. “You will show me around, Miss Mitchell, seeing as the majority of the preparations have fallen upon your capable shoulders.”

The widow all but dragged Fanny deeper into the ballroom, leaving Jonathon and Philomena together. Convenient.

At least neither of them seemed overly pleased to be in the other’s company. Fanny found far more comfort in their mutual uneasiness than she should.

Did Jonathon have any idea what his business partner was plotting? Would it matter if he did? It was a well-known fact that once the widow set her sights on a particular match, there was no changing her mind.

Perhaps Fanny should warn him. Or...perhaps not. She was merely his employee. He’d made it painfully clear there would be nothing more than business between them. She had no claims on him, and she certainly wasn’t interested in him romantically.

That was, at any rate, her official stand on the matter.

* * *

Jonathon had heard his share of disturbing tales concerning Mrs. Singletary’s penchant for matchmaking. He’d dismissed them out of hand. Beatrix Singletary was eccentric to be sure, but he’d never found cause to think her the meddling sort.

Until now.

The woman was actually pushing her companion on him, and she wasn’t even attempting to be subtle. When next he had Mrs. Singletary’s ear, he would inform her that her efforts were wasted on him.

Jonathon would never marry, nor father any children. He came from bad blood, from a long line of selfish men who’d destroyed the women in their lives.

He would not perpetuate the cycle. His newest project would become his legacy, a tangible way to help women rather than hurt them.

He clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the ceiling, then across the ballroom, over to the doors leading to the terrace, anywhere but at the pretty young woman standing beside him.

Miss Ferguson was likable enough. She was perfectly suitable—for some other man.

“Mr. Hawkins, I apologize for my employer.” Philomena shifted uncomfortably beside him. “She means well, I’m sure. But when Mrs. Singletary gets an idea in her head, she can be unrelenting in her desire to see it through to the end.”

Pleased by the young woman’s directness, Jonathon decided to be equally forthright in return. “Tenacity is an admirable trait. However, in this instance, Mrs. Singletary will be disappointed if she continues to push you and me together.”

Relief filled the young woman’s gaze. “I concur completely. You and I would never suit. A match between us would be the very worst of bad ideas.”

Jonathon offered a sardonic tilt of his lips.

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Mr. Hawkins, please forgive my wayward tongue. I did not mean to insult you.”

“I’m not offended, Miss Ferguson. I find your candor refreshing.”

“Praise the Lord.” She sighed. Then, clearly eager to move away from their discussion as quickly as possible, she looked out across the ballroom.

Jonathon followed the direction of her gaze and felt his gut take a slow, curling roll. Fanny was working her charms on Mrs. Singletary, directing the widow through the ballroom. Even dressed simply in a black, high-collared dress, Fanny exuded grace and elegance. Rather than detract, the lack of color in her clothing emphasized her natural beauty.

He watched, fascinated, as she pointed to the chandelier he’d had recently installed. Beneath the glow of a thousand flickering electric lights, her blue-green eyes sparkled with pleasure.

Jonathon blinked, unable to tear his gaze free of all that joy, all that beauty. He’d spent too many years surrounded by ugliness not to appreciate the way she’d scooped her silky blond curls in some sort of fancy twist atop her head. A few errant strands tumbled free, framing her exquisite oval face.

Fanny Mitchell was one of the Lord’s greatest works of art.

She captivated him. In truth, she’d intrigued him from their first meeting. If any woman could entice him to reconsider his opinion on marriage, it would be Fanny Mitchell.

And yet, because he admired her so much, liked her even, she was the last woman he would consider pursuing romantically.

She’d become indispensable to him. Here, at the hotel. Her personal touches were everywhere. From the elegant yet inviting furniture in the lobby, to the specialty chocolates hand-delivered to the rooms each evening, to the list of Denver attractions provided to each guest at check-in.

As if sensing his gaze on her, she shot him a wink from over her shoulder. His mind emptied of all thought.

Footsteps sounded from the outer hallway, heralding someone’s approach. Jonathon jerked his attention toward the doorway.

His assistant, Burke Galloway, hastened into the ballroom, a scowl on his face. Recognizing the look, Jonathon addressed Miss Ferguson directly. “Will you excuse me a moment?”

“Of course.”

He approached his assistant, a tall, lean young man with dark hair and startling, pale blue eyes. “Is there a problem?”

Burke’s mouth pressed into a grim line. “Joshua Greene is here to see you. I put him in your private office.”

Everything in him went cold. “Which Joshua Greene, father or son?”

Neither man was welcome in the hotel.

“Son.” Burke spoke in a hushed, hurried tone. “He refuses to leave the premises until he’s spoken with you personally.”

What business did his half brother have with him? Jaw tight, Jonathon returned to Miss Ferguson.

“I must bid you good-day, but I leave you in capable hands.” He motioned Burke over. “Miss Ferguson, this is Mr. Galloway. Burke, please show the young woman around the ballroom while I address this other matter.”

Burke’s eyes filled with quiet appreciation. “With pleasure, sir.”

Jonathon adopted a clipped, purposeful pace. He caught Fanny’s eye before exiting the ballroom. She gave him a brief nod. The gesture confirmed that he’d left Mrs. Singletary in capable hands, as well.

Whatever he discovered during his meeting with Josh Greene, Jonathon knew one thing for certain. He had good men and women in his employ, people far more faithful to him than the father and half brother who’d dismissed him the one time he’d reached out for their help.

He’d come a long way since those dark, hopeless days of surviving alone on the backstreets of Denver by any means possible. He was a success in his own right now, on his own terms. He owed his family nothing.

After a final nod in Fanny’s direction, Jonathon headed out of the ballroom, prepared for the confrontation ahead.

Chapter Two

Jonathon stood near the door, feet spread, hands clasped behind his back. He’d held the position for some time now, waiting for his half brother to stop pacing and state his business.

At seven years his senior, and their father’s sole legitimate heir, Josh had been given all the advantages of a privileged birthright, including an education from the finest schools in the country. Yet the man had nothing to show for his life, other than a string of gambling debts and a miserable marriage.

Always the outward picture of propriety, Josh wore one of his hand-tailored suits. The tall, leanly muscled build, the dark, windswept hair and classically handsome features fooled many.

But Jonathon knew the truth. The outer trappings did not match the inner man.

Like recognizes like, he thought, a harsh reminder of the things he’d done to drag himself out of poverty. Though his choices had been about survival, at least at first, he would still have much to answer for when he faced the Lord. Sobering thought.

His brother finally paused, turned and studied him intently. Jonathon matched the rude regard with unflinching patience, a strategy he often adopted to ferret out a business opponent’s underlying agenda.

Far stronger men than his brother had buckled under the calculated silence. Josh proved no more immune to the tactic than others before him.

“I need money,” he blurted out.

With slow, deliberate movements, Jonathon unclasped his hands and balanced evenly on both feet. The irony of the situation was almost laughable.

I need money. Those were the exact same words Jonathon had uttered to his father twenty years ago in a final, desperate attempt to save his dying mother’s life.

Resentment flared.

Jonathon struggled to contain the emotion, reminding himself he was no longer that helpless boy facing an uncertain future. He had power and wealth now.

He answered to no one but God.

“How much did you lose at the faro tables this time?”

Josh’s mouth went flat. “I don’t need the money for a gambling debt, I need it for—”

He broke off midsentence. His gaze darted around the room, landing nowhere in particular. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Not wanting to extend this conversation longer than necessary, Jonathon frowned at the request.

Without waiting for a response, Josh sat.

After settling in one of the wingback chairs facing away from the door, he rubbed an unsteady hand across his face. “Lily is with child.”

Every muscle in Jonathon’s back coiled and tightened. “Your wife’s name is Amanda.”

The other man sighed heavily. “Lily is my mistress.”

Jonathon went very still. The son had followed in the father’s footsteps. Inevitable, he supposed.

And he walked in all the sins of his father, which he had done before him...

Throat tight, Jonathon tried to empty his mind, but a distant memory shimmered to life. His mother, sitting in a tattered dress falling apart at the seams, tears running down her cheeks as she anxiously waited for the tall, distinguished man to return as he’d promised.

Even in her darkest days, when money had been scarce and she’d been forced to turn to prostitution to feed them both, Amelia Hawkins had continued hoping her lover would finally leave his wife.

That day had never come.

Jonathon had been too young back then, barely five, to remember much about the man whose visits had stopped so abruptly and left his mother in permanent despair. Only later, when he’d been sixteen, had he discovered that the venerable Judge Joshua Greene had been his mother’s paramour. And Jonathon’s father.

Josh’s voice cut into his thoughts. “I need money to set Lily up in a small house of her own. I’ll repay you, of course, when I’m able.”

A spurt of anger ignited in Jonathon’s chest. He moved to a spot behind his desk. Rather than sit, he remained standing, mostly to prove to himself he was still in control of his emotions. “Why come to me? Why not go to your father?”

Josh shook his head. “I can’t. He warned me Lily would try to trap me with a child.”

Trap him with a child? Jonathon had the presence of mind to pull out his chair before his legs collapsed beneath him. As if in a dream, he was transported back in time, to the terrifying nights he’d been banished to the alleyway behind the brothel.

Blinking rapidly, he heard his brother speaking, explaining his desire to keep his secret from his family. A part of Jonathon listened, taking it all in. The other part was unable to forget that he and this man shared the same blood. They came from the same, contemptible father.

He surfaced at the word mistake. “What did you say?”

“Father will never forgive me for making the same mistake he did.”

Mistake. Jonathon had been Joshua Greene’s greatest mistake. That’s what the good, upstanding judge had told him on their first meeting.

“I’m not like Father. I won’t turn my back on Lily. I won’t let her fall into...” Josh glanced down. “You know.”

“Do I?”

His brother’s head snapped back up. “I should have known you wouldn’t make this easy for me.”

“And yet you came to me, anyway.”

“All right, I’ll say it.” He rolled his shoulders as if trying to dislodge a heavy weight. “I don’t want Lily to become a prostitute like...like your...mother.”

Jonathon barely contained his rage. “And you think that makes you a good man?”

“It makes me better than our father.”

Jonathon cleared his expression of all emotion. Inside, he burned. He briefly glanced at the small picture on his desk of his mother as a young woman. He knew a moment of pain, and the hollow feeling of remembered sorrow he’d tucked inside a dark corner of his soul.

Amelia Hawkins hadn’t turned to prostitution lightly. She’d held out as long as she could, but had finally admitted defeat and taken a position in Mattie Silks’s brothel. Jonathon had been seven at the time. The infamous madam had only agreed to take him in, as well, with the understanding that the customers must never find out about his existence.

Whenever his mother “entertained” he’d been locked outside, no matter the weather, left to run the streets. Out of necessity, he’d learned to take care of himself. He’d become a master at picking pockets and winning fights.

He would have continued down a similar path the rest of his life had it not been for Laney O’Connor, now Laney Dupree. She’d offered Jonathon a home at Charity House. She’d built the orphanage for kids like him, kids who weren’t really orphans, whose mothers worked in brothels.

Jonathon shuddered, thinking of the things he’d done to survive prior to Laney’s rescue, and the things he’d done after leaving Charity House to make his fortune.

Could God forgive so much sin? A preacher friend of his said yes. Like waves crashing to shore, the Lord’s forgiveness was infinite and never ending. Jonathon had his doubts. The world was rarely fair.

And now, another woman had been lied to and compromised. Left to her own resources, she could very well travel the same path as Jonathon’s mother. Joshua Greene’s despicable legacy would live on into the next generation, and possibly the next. A never ending cycle.

Was it any wonder Jonathon never wanted to marry? Never wanted to bear children?

“I’ll give you the money.”

Saying nothing more, he opened the safe nestled beneath his desk, and pulled out a bundle of neatly stacked bills. The amount was more than enough to purchase a small, comfortable home for Josh’s mistress and her innocent, unborn child.

Once the money was in his brother’s hands, Jonathon rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a hotel to run.”

“Of course.”

In silence, he escorted his brother to the exit. “I bid you good-day.”

Josh started to speak.

Jonathon shut the door on his words with a resounding click. For several moments, he stared straight ahead, his gut roiling. In the unnatural stillness, he made a silent promise to himself. No woman would suffer because of his selfish actions.

The cycle of sin that ran in his family ended with him.

* * *

With their walk-through complete, Fanny escorted Mrs. Singletary and her companion back to the main lobby of the hotel. As they entered the skinny hallway leading out of the ballroom, Philomena fell back a step. The move put her directly beside Burke Galloway. Their footsteps slowed to match one another’s, and their voices mingled in hushed tones.

Fanny wondered if the widow noticed the two were so obviously attracted to each other. She looked over at Mrs. Singletary, but the sight of Jonathon’s office distracted her.

He rarely shut his door. The fact that he’d done so today warned Fanny something wasn’t quite right. A terrible foreboding slipped through her.

Mrs. Singletary glanced at the closed door as well, a delicate frown knitting her brow. “It would appear Mr. Hawkins is still occupied with whatever concern called him away.”

“I believe you are correct.” Fanny’s heart beat faster. She fought a sudden urge to go to Jonathon, to make sure he was all right.

But that would be overstepping her bounds. She continued leading Mrs. Singletary and the others down the hallway.

Once they were in the main lobby, Mrs. Singletary dug inside her sizable reticule and pulled out a stack of papers.

She handed them to Fanny. “Since it appears Mr. Hawkins will not be available for our meeting today, I am entrusting you with my final guest list for the ball.”

Fanny scanned the top page, not really expecting any surprises. But when her gaze landed on a particular set of guests, her breath hitched in her throat. Judge and Mrs. Joshua Greene.

Joshua. Greene.

The man wasn’t welcome in the Hotel Dupree. Short of exposing Jonathon’s personal connection to the prominent judge, Fanny could say nothing to Mrs. Singletary.

She coerced air into her lungs, and adopted a breezy, nonchalant tone. “I will deliver your list to Mr. Hawkins as soon as possible. If he has any questions or concerns I’m certain he will contact you at once.”

“That will be fine.” Mrs. Singletary’s gaze narrowed over her companion conversing softly with Mr. Galloway.

The widow sniffed in mild disapproval. Philomena didn’t appear to notice her employer’s reaction. She was entirely too absorbed in whatever Burke had pointed out to her in the lobby.

“Mr. Galloway, do come here.” The widow spoke in a fast, impatient tone. “And you, as well, Philomena.”

The two walked over as a single unit and faced Mrs. Singletary shoulder to shoulder.

Philomena spoke for them both. “Yes, Mrs. Singletary?”

The widow’s gaze bounced between the two, a look of vexation in her eyes. “Mr. Galloway, would you please see that my carriage and driver are waiting for me out front?”

He gave her a pleasant smile. “I would be delighted.”

“Yes, yes, off you go.” She sent him away with a distracted flick of her wrist.

Philomena gazed after him with a wistful expression.

Mrs. Singletary studied the young woman closely, then pressed her lips into a tight, determined line. Fanny feared the widow still planned to push a match between Jonathon and Philomena.

“Hopeless,” Fanny muttered under her breath.

“Did you say something, my dear?”

“No, Mrs. Singletary.” Fanny lifted her chin. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“Not a thing. Your commitment to detail is much appreciated, Miss Mitchell. I predict this year’s ball will be spoken about long after the evening comes to a close.”

“That is the plan.”

“Yes, yes.” The widow patted her hand. “I wish to raise quite a sizable amount of money for the new kitchen at Charity House.”

Excitement spread through Fanny. “It’s a worthy cause.”

“Oh, indeed, it is.”

They shared a smile. Fanny volunteered much of her free time at Charity House. She was even contemplating starting a program at the hotel to provide work experience for the older children. She wished she could do more. The orphanage had molded some of her favorite people into men and women of strong, moral character.

The widow continued speaking. “I understand the majority of your family will be in attendance at my ball.”

Fanny’s smile widened. It had been years since so many Mitchells were in one place at the same time. “I’ve reserved rooms for them here in the hotel. My parents will be staying in the bridal suite.”

A gift from Jonathon. The dear, dear man.

Mrs. Singletary’s expression turned somber and she reached out to touch Fanny’s arm. “How is your mother managing these days?”

“Her asthma is much better.” Or so her father had claimed the last time he’d come to town. The worry in his eyes had told a different story.

Her mother, always so full of life and energy, had contracted asthma recently, a chronic disease that usually showed up in childhood, but was not uncommon to reveal itself later in life. Although the doctor said Mary Mitchell’s illness was manageable, Fanny still feared the worst.

Asthma was incurable. People had been known to die from a severe attack. Her mother suffered bouts regularly. Though hers were usually moderate in nature, stress brought on more severe symptoms. Fanny prayed the party didn’t cause her any additional strain.

“I look forward to catching up with her while she’s in town,” Mrs. Singletary said. “Your mother has always been one of my very special friends.”

“And you, hers.”

“Walk us out, Miss Mitchell.”

“Of course.” Fanny led Mrs. Singletary and Philomena to the front steps of the hotel, then bade them farewell. Back in the lobby, she fingered the guest list. This needs addressing immediately. She cast a surreptitious glance toward Jonathon’s office.

The door swung open and out walked the man himself.

Never one to put off an unpleasant situation, Fanny hurried over to meet him. Something in the way he held his shoulders caused her unspeakable concern.

Judge Greene forgotten, she touched her employer’s arm. It was barely a whisper of fingertips to sleeve, yet had the intended effect. Jonathon slowly looked down at her.

The moment their gazes merged, Fanny’s breath backed up in her throat. His face was like a stone, but his eyes were hot with anguish.

She tightened her grip. “What’s happened? Is something wrong with the hotel?”

“No, it’s my...” His words trailed off and his gaze fastened on a spot somewhere far off in the distance.

Her hand fell away from his arm. However, her resolve to ease his distress remained firmly in place. “Perhaps you would care to take a short walk with me?”

She spoke in a mild tone, the way she would when making the same suggestion any other time. They often took walks together, mostly when Jonathon required her opinion about some issue in one of his hotels.

“A light snowfall has begun,” she added, knowing it was his favorite time to be outdoors.

Hers, as well. There was nothing more wonderful than those precious moments when the world fell quiet beneath a blanket of fluffy white flakes.

Jonathon remained silent, his gaze unblinking.

“Come with me.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the exit.

For several steps he obliged her. Just when she thought she had him agreeable to the idea of a brief stroll, he drew his hand free.

“Not right now, Fanny.” His voice was hoarse and gravelly, not at all the smooth baritone she was used to hearing from him. “I have another matter that requires my immediate attention.”

His deliberate vagueness put a wedge between them. She bit back a sigh. “I understand.”

In truth, she understood far too well. He’d shut her out. It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last. Nevertheless, it stung to realize he didn’t trust her, at least not enough to share what had put him in such a dark mood.

Without a word of explanation, he turned to go, then just as quickly pivoted back around to face her. “I’m not certain how long I’ll be gone. I need you to see to any issues that may arise in my absence.”

“You can count on me.”

She didn’t attempt to pry for additional information. He would reveal whatever was on his mind when he was ready. Or he wouldn’t. It was a reminder of how little he trusted her concerning his life outside the hotel.

He’s not for you.

But there was someone out there who was; she sensed it as surely as she knew her own name. She simply had to trust the Lord would lead her to her one true love in His time. Patience, faith—those were her greatest tools.

“I’ll be here when you return,” she said when Jonathon made no move to leave.

He reached up and touched her cheek. The gesture was brief, yet so full of tenderness she thought she might cry. Did the man realize how good he was beneath that polished, unflappable exterior he presented to the world?

He would make a wonderful husband, and an exceptional father, if only he would allow someone—anyone—to squeeze through the cracks and into his heart. She wanted that for him, desperately.

“I count on you always being here when I return, Fanny.” His expression softened. “More than you can possibly know.”

With relief, she heard the message beneath his words. Jonathon relied on her above all others.

The thought should have made her happy, but instead produced a small stab of pain in the vicinity of her heart. The sensation felt a lot like loss.

Chapter Three

Later that same afternoon, Fanny found one excuse after another to return to the hotel lobby. If she was called away, she took care of the matter quickly and then hurried back to her post behind the registration desk. She was probably overreacting, but she couldn’t shake the notion that Jonathon needed her.

She knew the exact moment he reentered the hotel. Even if she hadn’t been watching for him, the air actually changed. The atrium felt somehow smaller, his presence was that large and compelling. Everyone else in the building faded in comparison.

Or maybe that was Fanny’s singular reaction to the man. None of the guests milling about seemed quite as captivated by Jonathon Hawkins as she.

Of course, she’d been watching for his return. Her concern had grown exponentially with each passing hour. Catching a glimpse of his face and the way he held his shoulders, she knew she’d been right to worry. He was still as distraught as when he’d left.

He hadn’t seen her yet.

She took the opportunity to study him without interruption.

His steps were clipped, purposeful, a man in complete control of his domain. But his eyes. Oh, his eyes. Fanny had never seen that look of raw emotion in his gaze before.

Hurrying out from behind the registration desk, she cut into his direct line of vision.

His feet ground to a halt.

“Jonathon.” Unable to mask her concern, Fanny spoke his name in a rush. No good, no good. That would only entice him to put up his guard.

She adopted a breezy, businesslike tone and began again. “Tell me what you need. Name it and it’s done.”

He looked at her oddly, then cracked a half smile. “I appreciate the offer, but everything’s under control.”

She frowned at the rasp in his voice. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Go back to work, Fanny.” He shifted around her and continued on toward his office. Not sure why she couldn’t leave him alone, she grabbed her coat from behind the registration desk and then hurried to catch up with him again.

His pace slowed.

She easily fell into step beside him.

He cast her a sidelong glance but didn’t tell her to go away. Progress.

“You do realize, Jonathon, that you have the look.”

His footsteps stopped altogether. “What look?”

“Whenever something goes wrong in the hotel, a groove shows up right...there.” She pointed to a spot in the middle of his forehead.

A strangled laugh rumbled out of his chest. “You know me well.”

Not really. A mild glumness took hold of her. She didn’t know him nearly as well as she wished, but enough to know how to lighten his mood.

She took his arm and steered him back in the direction he’d just come. “The snow is falling and you owe me a walk. I’m even prepared.”

She gestured with her coat.

He stared down at her for an endless moment, so long, in fact, that she thought he might turn down her offer a second time in one day. But then he nodded and started for the exit with quick, even strides.

She had to break into a trot to keep up with him. Much to her relief, he slowed once they were outside.

They walked at a reasonable pace, falling into a companionable silence as they headed toward the heart of downtown Denver. The afternoon air was scented with fresh snow and a hint of pine. Fat, languid flakes floated softly around them, creating a surreal, almost wistful feel to the moment.

Fanny treasured these brisk walks with Jonathon, when it was just the two of them working out an issue in the hotel.

Although today she sensed the problem was more personal in nature. Something from his past?

She thought of what little she knew of his difficult childhood, so very different from her own. One of seven siblings, Fanny had been raised in a large, gregarious family on a ranch ten miles north of Denver. There’d always been plenty of food on the Mitchell table. Love and laughter had been abundant, as well, with the added bonus of parents who lived out their faith daily.

Fanny couldn’t imagine the hardships Jonathon had endured. The thought made her stumble. He caught hold of her elbow, letting go only when she regained her balance.

“I failed to ask you earlier,” he said, resuming his quick pace. “Did Mrs. Singletary have any questions about or concerns over the setup for her ball?”

“None. She seemed quite pleased with the preparations.”

“Good to know.” He drew to a stop.

Fanny followed suit.

Something quite wonderful passed between them.

“I appreciate you taking over in my absence with Mrs. Singletary.” He plucked a snowflake off Fanny’s shoulder, tossed it away with a flick of his fingers. “You always manage to make me look good. Thank you, Fanny.”

“It’s I who should thank you,” she countered, meaning it with all her heart.

Prior to working at the hotel, she’d been caught up in the various roles others had assigned to her. The dutiful daughter. The adored sister. The accomplished beauty. She’d found favor wherever she went, had never taken a misstep and certainly never let anyone down.

Perhaps that was why her family had been confused and deeply concerned when she’d broken her engagement to Reese Bennett Jr., a man they had deemed her perfect match. Though her parents had been quick to support her decision, her behavior had set tongues wagging all over Denver. The ensuing scandal had been nearly impossible to bear.

Jonathon had come to her rescue, offering her the opportunity to manage the registration desk at his Chicago hotel. She’d leaped at the chance to leave town. Or rather, to escape the gossip.

Fanny wasn’t particularly proud of her cowardice, but some good had come from her attempt to run away from the problem. She’d spent a lot of hours in her rented room in Chicago. After much prayer and soul-searching, she’d come to the realization that she was more than a pretty face, more than what others expected her to be.

Now, back in Denver once again, she would like to think she’d found where she belonged. At the Hotel Dupree. She knew better, of course. She loved her job, but...

Something was missing. Her very own happy-ever-after that four of her six siblings had already found and were living out on a daily basis.

Gazing up into Jonathon’s remarkable blue eyes, she felt a hopeless sense of longing spread through her. He’s not for you, she reminded herself. He doesn’t want what you want.

If only...

She knew better than to finish that thought.

As an uncharacteristic awkwardness spread between them, Fanny tried to think of something to say. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Philomena looked rather lovely today, don’t you agree?”

He cocked his head in a look of masculine confusion. “Mrs. Singletary always ensures her companion looks lovely.”

So, he hadn’t been especially taken by Philomena’s considerable charms. Inappropriately pleased by the revelation, Fanny resumed walking, her steps considerably lighter.

They turned at the end of the block and retraced their route. In the past, this was usually when Jonathon revealed whatever was bothering him.

True to form, he blew out a slow hiss of air. “It confounds me how someone can just show up, unannounced, and expect to be given whatever he wants without consequences.”

At the fire in his words, Fanny belatedly remembered the additional name on Mrs. Singletary’s guest list. “Did Judge Greene contact you directly?”

Jonathon’s face tightened at the question. “Are you saying he showed up at the hotel today, too?”

“No, I just assumed...” She shot a covert glance in his direction. “It’s obvious something is troubling you. I thought it might be because Mrs. Singletary added your father to the guest list.”

Jonathon stopped abruptly. “She what?”

Fanny sighed. “You didn’t know.”

“I did not.”

She sighed again. She knew about Jonathon’s personal connection to Joshua Greene only because the judge himself had told her. He’d misunderstood their relationship. Thinking they were more than business associates, he’d approached Fanny about setting up a meeting with his son. When Fanny had gotten over her shock and told Jonathon about the brazen request, he’d been furious. Not with her, with his father.

Her stomach dipped at the memory. “Would you like me to speak with Mrs. Singletary? I could explain the situation, you know, without actually explaining it.”

For a moment, Jonathon’s guard dropped and she saw the vulnerability that belonged to the boy he’d once been—the one who’d been summarily dismissed by his own father.

She thought he might share some of his pain with her, but his eyes became cool and distant. “Leave it alone,” he said at last. “Mrs. Singletary is allowed to invite whomever she pleases to her charity ball.”

They finished the rest of their walk in silence.

At the hotel entrance, Jonathon stopped Fanny from entering by moving directly in front of her. “Before we go in, I have a request.”

She blinked up at him. “You know you can ask me anything.”

“Have you secured an escort for Mrs. Singletary’s ball?”

“I...no.” She shook her head in confusion. “I have not.”

“Good, don’t.”

“Is...” She cleared her throat, twice. “Is there a reason you wish for me to attend the ball alone?”

His lips curved into a sweet, almost tender smile. “You misunderstand. I don’t wish for you to attend alone.”

Oh. Oh, my. Her breath backed up in her lungs. “No?”

“I would like for you to attend with me.” The intensity in his eyes made her legs wobble. “What do you say, Fanny? Will you allow me to escort you to the ball Friday evening?”

Her head told her to refuse. This man was her employer. He’d vowed never to marry. He didn’t want children. No good would come from forgetting those very significant points of contention between them.

But then he took her hand.

She felt dizzy, too dizzy to think clearly. Surely that explained why she ignored caution. “Yes, Jonathon, I would very much like to attend the ball with you.”

* * *

The following morning, Jonathon stood outside his office and tracked his gaze over the crowded hotel lobby. No matter what tactic he employed, he couldn’t seem to concentrate on the scene in front of him. His mind kept returning to his conversation with Fanny after their walk.

He should not have asked her to Mrs. Singletary’s ball. He knew that, but couldn’t seem to regret doing so.

He enjoyed Fanny’s company. Probably more than he should. Certainly more than their business association warranted. From very early on in their acquaintance, she’d made it clear what she wanted out of life—a satisfying job, marriage, children, a home of her own. Jonathon could give her only one of those things, the job.

But there were plenty of men who could give her the rest, some of whom would be in attendance at the ball tomorrow evening.

Fanny, with her luminous smile and stunning face, would enchant each and every one of those potential suitors. She was unique. Special. The kind of woman a man wanted to cherish and protect, always.

Something unpleasant unfurled in Jonathon’s chest at the thought of her sharing even one dance with someone, anyone, other than him.

Shifting his stance, he ground his back molars together so hard his neck ached. He forcibly relaxed his jaw and once again attempted to focus his attention on the hotel.

Again, his mind wandered back to Fanny and how badly he wanted her by his side tomorrow night. Facing his father would be...well, if not easier, certainly less challenging.

Guilt immediately reared up, producing a dull, burning pain in the back of his throat. Jonathon would not use Fanny as a shield between him and his father.

He should let her attend the ball alone. Yet he could not withdraw his invitation at this late date. He’d gotten himself in quite the quandary, with no simple way out.

He was spared from further reflection when his assistant, Burke Galloway, shouldered his way through the milling crowd.

“Mr. Hawkins, you’ll be pleased to know we’re nearly at 100 percent occupancy.”

Jonathon pulled out his watch and checked the time. Not yet noon. He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. “Mrs. Singletary will be delighted so many of her party guests have taken rooms in the hotel.”

“The discounted rate was a strong incentive.”

“Indeed.” The cut in price had been Fanny’s idea, a way to show off the newly renovated hotel to the locals. He made a mental note to increase her wages yet again.

“I have a few items we need to discuss.” Burke eyed him with a questioning glance. “I trust now is a good time.”

Jonathon nodded.

Burke retrieved a small notepad from an inside pocket of his jacket and proceeded to run through a series of problems that had arisen. When he’d finished, and Jonathon had given his decision on each matter, Burke flipped the page and addressed the final item scribbled in his book.

“As per your request, I’ve prepared the conference room on the second floor for your meeting with the Mitchell brothers this afternoon.” He tapped the page absently with his fingertip. “Your attorney has already sent over five copies of the agreement, one for each person involved in the transaction and an additional copy to file with the county clerk’s office once the sale goes through.”

If the sale goes through.

Hunter, Logan and Garrett Mitchell still had to agree to sell Jonathon the parcel of land they jointly owned north of their family’s ranch. He would pay whatever they asked, no matter how outrageous the price.

Turning the run-down train depot into a premier stop on the busy Union Pacific line wasn’t just another business venture for him. It was a chance to set a new course for his future, a sort of redemption for the mistakes of his past.

Operating on the notion that the Mitchell brothers would be tough negotiators, he made one last request of his assistant. “Clear my calendar for the rest of the day, in case our meeting runs long.”

“Of course.” Burke made a notation on his notepad, then looked up. “We’ve covered everything on my list. Is there anything else you wish to review?”

“That’s all for now.”

“Very good.” Burke left a few seconds later.

Jonathon returned his gaze to the lobby, his thoughts as disordered as the scene in front of him.

People came and went. Some hurried, others meandered. There was no pattern to their movement, yet the scene was a familiar one, replicated in every one of Jonathon’s hotels, on any given day of the week.

After years of traveling from hotel to hotel, room to room, living out of a trunk or suitcase, Jonathon was ready to put down roots, deep and strong and lasting. His family would be the men and women he hired to work at the train depot, their changed lives his legacy.

If he happened to find himself lonely at times, it was the price he was willing to pay to break the chain of sin that plagued his family.

As if to test his resolve, he caught sight of Fanny out of the corner of his eye. Beautiful. That was the first thought that came to mind as Jonathon watched her move out from behind the registration desk.

She scanned the immediate area with a slightly narrowed gaze, probably looking for something out of place. Her earnest, blue-green eyes, starred with heavy, dark lashes, swept across the lobby, over the marble flooring, up to the glass atrium above her head.

The sunlight streaming through the windows slid over her in washes of yellow and gold, highlighting the variegated strands of blond hair piled atop her head.

Jonathon remembered the first time he’d seen her, standing in much the same place as she was now. He’d sensed the moment their gazes met that she was going to pose a problem for him. Not on a business level, but on a personal one.

He hadn’t been wrong.

She caught him watching her. Smiling, she immediately changed direction. When she stopped beside him, his heart actually stuttered.

Up close, she was even more spectacular.

Her skin was flawless, her features almost doll-like. Pieces of hair had fallen free from her tidy coiffure. Since Jonathon rather liked the effect, he deemed it best not to point this out. No doubt she would reach up and tuck the wayward curls back in place.

“We have a busy few days ahead of us.” She’d barely uttered the statement before a bellman, juggling several large pieces of luggage, staggered toward her. Deftly moving aside to let him pass, she added, “We’re booked solid through Monday morning.”

Not sure what he heard in her voice—worry, tension, mild agitation?—Jonathon raked his gaze over her face. She was definitely anxious about something. “Any concerns I should know about?”

She answered without hesitation. “No, of course not.”

Highly unlikely, with every room booked for the next four nights. “None?” He lifted a single eyebrow. “Not one?”

Laughing softly, she shook her head. “Let me rephrase. Have problems presented themselves this morning? Yes, absolutely. Anything I, or my staff, can’t handle? No.”

“Good answer.”

She flashed a smug grin. “I know.”

He chuckled. She joined in.

A moment later her smile slipped, just a little, but enough that Jonathon noticed. He wondered at the cause but thought he probably knew. Her mother and father had arrived earlier this morning. “I trust your parents are settled in their room?”

“They are, yes.” She angled her head to gaze up at him. “Thank you, Jonathon, for giving them the finest suite in the hotel. You have no idea how much I appreciate your thoughtfulness and generosity.”

Something about her expression, so grateful, so overcome with emotion, made him stand a bit taller. He had a sudden urge to shield this woman from all the evil in this world, to slay every one of her dragons, real or perceived.

The need to protect Fanny, stronger than he’d felt for anyone before, wasn’t entirely unexpected. Nor was it new. The sensation had been with him from the start of their association.

If she were a different woman, he a different man...

He shoved the thought aside. Fanny wanted marriage, children. Family. Jonathon knew nothing of those things. But he wanted her to have them. He wanted her to find happiness. With some other man?

No.

His mouth went dry as dust. He cleared his throat with a low growl. “How is your mother feeling?”

“She seemed well enough when I left her. Her color was good and she was breathing easily, but...”

Fanny’s words trailed off and she snapped her mouth firmly shut.

“But...?” he prompted.

“But the ten-mile journey into town wore her out. She’s putting up a brave front. I’m not in the least fooled by her false smiles. Thankfully, Dr. Shane is upstairs with her now, administering a breathing treatment.” Gratitude returned to Fanny’s gaze. “Thank you for making sure he was already here when she arrived.”

Something that looked like affection, perhaps even admiration, replaced the gratitude.

How he wanted to be the man he saw in her eyes right now.

He cleared his throat again.

“I was happy to send for the doctor.” Of course, Shane Bartlett wasn’t just any doctor. He was the best in Denver. His connection to Charity House and his willingness to see patients regardless of their past—or current—lifestyles made him one of the few men Jonathon trusted. “I know how much your mother means to you.”

Another, heavier sigh leaked out of Fanny’s very pretty mouth. “I don’t know what I’d do if one of her attacks becomes so severe she isn’t able to recover.”

The anguish in Fanny’s voice was a sharp, tangible thing.

Jonathon was reminded of the day his own mother had taken ill. How well he understood the fear and pain Fanny fought to control.

Wanting to comfort her, he opened his mouth to say something, not precisely sure what, but a minor event playing out at the hotel’s entrance captured his attention.

An expectant hush fell over the lobby as a stunning couple walked in with their sizable brood, plus one former, notorious madam Jonathon knew a bit too well. After all, she’d once owned the brothel where his mother had worked.

He had a lot of memories connected to Mattie Silks, not all of them good. But her appearance in his hotel wasn’t the reason every muscle in his back knotted with tension.

Hunter Mitchell, the oldest of the Mitchell siblings, had arrived ahead of his brothers.

One down, two more yet to show.

Jonathon managed, just barely, to keep the anticipation from showing on his face. Unfortunately, none of his outward calm could temper his impatience to begin negotiations with the Mitchell brothers.

Soon, he told himself. If all went according to plan, his future would take a dramatic turn very soon.

Chapter Four

Fanny knew a moment of quiet desperation as she watched her brother herd his family deeper into the hotel lobby. That’s what I want, Lord. That joy, that sense of belonging, a family of my own.

She had to believe her time would come. For now, she would take a moment to enjoy the show. Hunter had brought his entire household to town, including his wife, all four of their children and, of course, his wife’s mother, the incomparable Mattie Silks.

Laughter abounded among the group, while an entire team of bellmen wrestled the family’s luggage onto a cart. Fanny’s sister-in-law, Annabeth, attempted to oversee the process. Unfortunately, her mother added her own, very vocal “suggestions” on how to speed along the process. Mattie’s input caused more mayhem, not less.

Hunter’s oldest daughter, Sarah, skillfully pulled her younger siblings out of the fray. Unfortunately, Mattie added her assistance there as well, and pandemonium soon followed. The children quite literally ran circles around their grandmother.

Fanny thought she saw a brief twinkle of amusement dance in her brother’s eyes before he quickly restored order with the gentle strength that had always defined him. Hunter looked good, she decided. His hair was a sun-kissed, sandy blond from the hours he spent outdoors on his ranch. His long-legged, leanly muscular cowboy swagger was replicated in all the Mitchell men.

Hunter had experienced some difficult years, including two spent in prison for manslaughter, but he’d overcome his past and was stronger for the challenges he’d once faced. She was proud to call him brother.

“Now, that’s what I call an entrance,” Jonathon muttered.

The look of amused horror on his face made her smile. “I should have warned you, the Mitchells never do anything by half measure.”

“I was speaking about Mattie.” His voice was infused with a touch of irony. “Watch. She’s about to strike a pose. Ah, yes, there she goes.”

As predicted, Mattie sauntered to a spot in the middle of the hotel lobby. With exaggerated slowness, she lifted her chin, thrust out a hip and then planted a fist on her waist.

The pose was so...completely Mattie. A snort of laughter erupted before Fanny could call it back. “You know the woman well.”

“Too well,” Jonathon muttered, his mouth now a little grim. “She’s managed to draw almost every eye to her.”

Gazes were, indeed, riveted in Mattie’s direction. But Fanny suspected much of the interest was for the extraordinary-looking group as a whole. Even Hunter’s children were beautiful.

A range of emotions swept through her. Fanny was excited to spend time with her family, but also determined to make the next few days count. When Mrs. Singletary’s ball was over, all of Denver would see her differently. She would no longer be defined as that pretty Mitchell girl. Or that poor, misguided woman who’d jilted a prominent man in town.

She would prove she was a competent woman, capable of handling great responsibilities. When she walked through town next week, the whispers following in her wake would be not only accurate, but also complimentary.

Catching sight of her from across the room, Annabeth squealed in delight and waved enthusiastically.

The entire group changed direction, Annabeth leading the way with a waddle that bespoke her current condition. Judging by the size of her belly, Hunter’s fifth child would be making an appearance in a few short months.

As Annabeth approached, smiling broadly, Fanny noticed that her sister-in-law glowed with good health and happiness. She was so very beautiful. The rich, caramel-colored skin and sleek dark hair she’d inherited from her Mexican father were the perfect foil for the pale blue eyes she’d gotten from Mattie.

Oddly, as Hunter and his family drew closer, Jonathon seemed to grow tenser. He shifted his stance slightly, then repositioned himself once again.

Interesting that while he appeared outwardly loose-limbed and relaxed, the lines around his mouth gave him away.

Fanny was given no more time to contemplate his strange behavior before she was hauled into her brother’s strong arms and swung in fast, dizzying circles.

“Put me down, you big oaf.”

He obliged, but only after two more heart-pounding spins.

Then, hands on her shoulders, Hunter studied her face with the narrow-eyed focus that had kept him alive during his rebellious years. She tried not to fidget under the inspection.

At last, he gave a quick nod of approval. “You look well, Fanny. Happy.”

“I am well and happy.” Mostly.

Angling his head, he paused, as if about to say something, then abruptly refocused his attention onto Jonathon.

They shook hands in a very businesslike manner.

“Have my brothers arrived?” Hunter asked.

“Not yet.”

As Fanny watched the formal exchange between the two men, she had the distinct impression she’d missed something, something important. She opened her mouth to inquire, but they moved a few steps away and began speaking in low, hushed tones.

She couldn’t quite make out what they said. She stepped closer. At the mention of a meeting—what meeting?—she leaned in a smidgen closer. She thought she caught Jonathon say her brother Garrett’s name, but then Annabeth swooped in for a hug and that was the end of Fanny’s eavesdropping.

She spent the next few minutes greeting the rest of Hunter’s family. “Mattie, I do believe you look ten years younger than the last time I saw you.”

The former madam responded to the compliment with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “It’s all that fresh air.”

The harried tone implied that fresh air was something to be avoided at all costs. Fanny wasn’t fooled. The former madam was delighted with her decision to sell her brothel and move onto the ranch with her daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren.

Who would have thought Mattie Silks would turn into a doting grandmother?

“Hello, Aunt Fanny.”

Fanny spun around at the sound of her name. “Sarah, look at you. You’re all grown up.”

The girl beamed. “I turn sixteen in four months, one week and five days. But who’s counting?”

Fanny laughed. The sweet, pretty child with the dark hair and tawny eyes had become a confident, striking young woman. “Tell me how you’ve been.”

Sarah did, in great detail, barely taking a breath. When she finally paused, Fanny took the opportunity to steer the conversation in a slightly different direction than the latest fashion for hats. “Are you excited about attending school in Boston next year?”

“I am. Very much. I thought Pa would never agree to let me go.” She rolled her eyes in her father’s direction. “He only relented when I promised to carry on your legacy at Miss Sinclair’s Prestigious School for Girls.”

Though she was flattered, and really quite touched, the last thing Fanny wanted was for her niece to follow in her footsteps. She’d been a model student at Miss Sinclair’s, uncommonly obedient. That had been a mistake. When a young girl went away to school, she was supposed to spread her wings a little, to test her boundaries, to make mistakes and then learn from them.

Wanting to offer what advice she could on the matter, she touched her niece’s arm, then decided it wasn’t her place. Sarah should be allowed to find her own way, on her own terms. But still. “Let’s talk more later, just the two of us.”

Sarah’s smile turned radiant. “I’d like that.”

Fanny switched her attention to her sister-in-law’s rounded belly. “How are you feeling?”

“Excited, impatient.” Annabeth leaned in close. “Your brother hovers like an old woman. Honestly, you’d think I’d never birthed a child before.”

Despite her slightly miffed tone, Annabeth glanced over at Hunter. The way she looked at him, all dreamy-eyed and in love, told Fanny her sister-in-law adored every bit of the attention her husband bestowed on her.

A tinge of melancholy struck without warning. Would Fanny ever find that kind of love?

She certainly hoped so. And yet she wondered...

Was she even capable of having deep feelings for a man? She certainly hadn’t felt anything more than friendship for Reese. What did that say about her?

Breaking away from the group, Hunter’s youngest child toddled toward her. Happy for the distraction, she reached down to pick up her nephew. But the eighteen-month-old miniature copy of his father had a different plan in mind.

The little boy bypassed Fanny and went straight to Jonathon. “Up.” He yanked on the crisp pant leg. “Up!”

Pausing midsentence, Jonathon looked down.

Christopher lifted his arms high in the air. “Up, up, up.”

Chuckling, Jonathon obliged the child. The move was so natural, so casual, Fanny found herself staring at them in stunned silence. Christopher babbled away, while Jonathon responded as if he completely understood.

Fanny’s heart gave a hard tug. Jonathon was so comfortable with the child, so patient and kind.

I will never father children.

His reasons for avoiding fatherhood made sense—at least to him. Not to Fanny. Yes, the Bible warned of the sins of the father, but Scripture also promised victory to those who broke the cycle.

Watching Jonathon with her nephew, knowing he’d make a great father, she couldn’t understand why he was so determined to avoid having children.

Releasing a heartfelt sigh, Annabeth linked her arm through Fanny’s. “Johnny’s very good with Christopher. Of course, I’m not surprised. He was the best big brother.”

Fanny blinked at her sister-in-law in confusion. Then she remembered that Jonathon—or rather, Johnny—had lived in Mattie’s brothel as a child. His path must have crossed Annabeth’s often, probably even daily.

What else did she know about him?

Curiosity drove Fanny to pry. “What was he like as a boy?”

“Loyal, caring, a bit wild, but also protective of the other children. He...” Annabeth paused a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. “I guess you could say he kept a part of himself separate. He was friendly, but he didn’t have a lot of friends.”

He must have been so lonely, always watching out for others. Oh, Jonathon, who watched out for you? Fanny’s heart hurt for the little boy he’d once been.

“That’s not to say the other children didn’t adore him. They did. Everyone looked up to him, even the girls.” Annabeth laughed as if caught in a happy memory. “Especially the girls.”

The boy Annabeth just described was much like the man he was today. Good. Kind. Distant. Fanny had more questions, lots more, but another commotion broke out at the hotel’s entrance.

Her second oldest brother pushed into the lobby, his wife and three children in tow.

Her smile returned full force.

Logan and his family had arrived.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Jonathon stood in the conference room, impatiently biding his time. He wanted to begin negotiations at once, but the remaining Mitchell brother had only just arrived at the hotel. Coming straight off the train from Saint Louis, Garrett had promised to join them as soon as he helped his young wife get settled in their room.

That had been over thirty minutes ago.

Since Garrett’s wife was with child as well, Jonathon figured getting her settled meant more than merely helping with the luggage. If the man was anything like his older brother, there was bound to be a good deal of husbandly smothering.

Jonathon felt a jolt of...something churn in his gut. Jealousy? Regret? Neither emotion had any place in today’s meeting. He shoved the futile thoughts aside and attempted to get down to business.

Hunter stopped him midsentence. “We’ll wait for Garrett. We make decisions as a family, or not at all.”

Considering the nature of his relationship with own brother, Jonathon was both intrigued and baffled by the united front. He knew Hunter and Logan hadn’t always been close. They’d actually been on opposite sides of the law for years and, according to some accounts, even enemies.

But now they were as close as any brothers Jonathon had run across. They even owned neighboring ranches connected to their parents’ larger spread, which said a lot about their commitment to family.

At last, the door swung open and Garrett Mitchell entered the conference room in a rush.

“Sorry I’m late.” The besotted smile on his face said otherwise. “Molly needed me to help her switch hats, and then we somehow got tangled up. The laughing began next, and well, here I am at last, better late than never.”

“Save the excuses, little brother.” Logan lifted his hand in the air. “We all know you just wanted to spend extra time with Molly.”

Garrett’s grin widened. “Jealous?”

Logan snorted. “Have you seen my wife? She’s always the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“Unless, of course,” Garrett countered, “my wife is in the room.”

“Or mine,” Hunter added.

Since Jonathon had known all three women in question before they’d met and married the Mitchell men, he kept his mouth shut on the matter. Each of their wives was special in her own way. Beautiful, smart, the very essence of goodness.

Jonathon nodded to Burke. His assistant shut the outer door to the conference room.

The brothers fell silent.

“Gentleman, if you will have a seat.” Jonathon motioned them to the table in the middle of the room. “We’ll begin.”

They remained where they were, standing shoulder to shoulder. Three against one. Not the worst odds Jonathon had ever faced.

Normally, he enjoyed a tough negotiation, especially if pitted against a worthy opponent or, as in this particular case, several worthy opponents. However, the outcome of today’s meeting was too important to indulge in the thrill that came from a proper battle.

Jonathon got straight to the point. “I recently acquired the property that runs along your northern border and—”

“So you’re the anonymous Denver businessman who purchased Ebenezer Foley’s ranch,” Logan said, with the barest hint of bitterness.

Jonathon understood the man’s frustration. It was no secret the Mitchell brothers had wanted the land. But Ebenezer Foley had nursed a lifelong hatred for the entire family. He’d carried that animosity to the grave. On his deathbed, he’d instructed his son to sell his ranch to anyone but a Mitchell.

Mouth set in a grim line, Hunter crossed his arms over his chest. “You didn’t ask us here merely to tell us you bought the land directly north of ours.”

“No. I want to make an offer on the three hundred acres you jointly own that run along my southern border, including the dilapidated train depot. I’m willing to pay 10 percent above the going rate, as you will see in the offer my attorney drew up. Take a look.”

He pointed to the files laid out on the conference table in a tidy row.

A silent message passed between the brothers before they stepped forward and opened the files with identical flicks of their wrists.

Hunter and Logan skimmed their gazes across the top page. Garrett Mitchell actually picked up the sale agreement and read through the legal document, page by page. It made sense he would take the time to consider the offer in its entirety, being an attorney who specialized in sales and acquisitions.

After a moment, Garrett looked up. “The asking price is more than fair, as are the other terms.”

“Nevertheless.” Hunter took a step back from the table. “We have one rule in our family when it comes to business. Mitchell land stays in Mitchell hands. We can’t sell you the property.”

Every muscle in Jonathon’s back tightened and coiled. He forcibly relaxed his shoulders, then felt them bunch again. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter?”

No. He supposed it didn’t.

Jonathon showed none of his reaction on his face, but inside he burned with frustration. To come so far...

“I’ll pay an additional 10 percent per acre.”

“Still no.” Hunter said the words, but the other two men nodded in silent agreement.

And that, Jonathon realized, was the end of the negotiations. Five minutes, that’s all it had taken.

The worst part, the very worst part, was that he respected the Mitchell brothers’ reasons for not selling. Mitchell land stays in Mitchell hands.

There were other comparable properties near Denver. Two even had run-down train depots similar to the one on the Mitchell property. But none of the available parcels had a river running through the land. The natural water source made the Mitchell parcel ideal.

“You’re a busy man,” Hunter said. “Our decision is final. We won’t take up any more of your time.”

“I appreciate you hearing me out.” Jonathon shook hands with each man. The oldest two brothers left the room almost immediately after that.

While Burke gathered up the files and followed them out, Garrett Mitchell hung back. “I’d like a quick word with you.”

Eyebrows lifted, Jonathon gave a brief nod. “All right.”

“Tell me your plan for the train depot. I know you have one or you wouldn’t have mentioned it specifically in the contract.”

Having worked with the young attorney before, Jonathon sensed the man’s interest was genuine. Garrett Mitchell had a keen mind for business and a penchant for taking risks.

What harm could there be in sharing the basics of his idea? “My ultimate goal is to turn the stop into a premiere destination, with restaurants, shops, lodging and more.”

Garrett rubbed his chin in thoughtful silence. “Entire towns have been built on less.”

The other man’s insight was spot on. “My hope is to create a community, not precisely a town, not at first, anyway. Rather a safe haven for my employees and their children.”

He paused, thinking of his mother, of the desperation that had led her to make bad decisions out of terrible choices. “Each position will include a fair wage, on-the-job training, as well as room and board.”

“If done right,” Garrett mused, “the venture could bring you a great fortune.”

“Money isn’t the driving force behind the project.” He went on to explain about the types of employees he would hire, mostly women like his mother.

“Ah, now I understand.”

Jonathon believed Garrett Mitchell did, indeed, comprehend his motives. After all, the man was married to Molly, a woman whose mother had worked in Mattie’s brothel, and whose older sister had adopted her when she was five.

“Let me speak to my brothers. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

Jonathon appreciated the gesture, but he needed to make one point perfectly clear. “I won’t accept a lease, no matter how agreeable the terms.”

“Understood.” Now that their business was concluded, Jonathon expected the other man to take his leave.

Once again, this younger Mitchell brother surprised him. “Now that that’s settled, tell me how my sister is faring in her new position here at the hotel.”

Jonathon hesitated. He didn’t feel right discussing Fanny with her brother. It felt like a betrayal to their friendship. “Why not ask her yourself?”

The other man shrugged. “I could. But she’ll merely tell me she’s doing fine.”

True enough. “I can’t speak for Fanny, but I can tell you she’s doing an exceptional job. In truth, she’s become indispensable to me.” At her brother’s lifted eyebrow, Jonathon added, “I mean, of course, here, at the hotel.”

“Have a care, Hawkins.” Garrett’s eyes took on a hard edge. “Fanny has brothers who’ll take on any man who tries to take advantage of her.”

The warning was unnecessary. Jonathon would never hurt Fanny. If anyone dared to harm her or threaten her well-being, he would be first in line to deal with the rogue.

A knock came at the door and the very woman they were discussing appeared in the room. “Jonathon, we have a situation and...oh.” Her eyes widened. “Garrett. I didn’t realize you were involved in this afternoon’s meeting.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No. I...” She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m sorry, but I need to steal my boss away for a few minutes. We have a...situation.” She gave Jonathon an apologetic grimace. “It’s somewhat urgent.”

“We’ll talk out in the hall.”

Before leaving the room, she tossed a sweet smile at her brother. “Good to see you, Garrett.”

“You, too, Fanny. Been too long.” He gave her a wry twist of his lips. “Great talking with you.”

She laughed at his teasing tone. “Sorry I have to rush off. We’ll catch up later?”

“Count on it.”

The affection between the two was obvious. Clearly, the bond Jonathon had witnessed among the Mitchell brothers included the sisters, as well. For a brief period in his life he’d felt something similar with the other kids at Charity House, but that was a long time ago.

He followed Fanny out of the room, shut the door behind them. “You mentioned a situation?”

She puffed out a frustrated breath. “Mrs. Singletary has asked for extensive changes to the menu for tomorrow night.”

“How extensive?”

“Ridiculously so, but before I send Philomena back with my carefully worded reply, I thought I’d better run it by you first.”

She handed him a slip of paper with her neat handwriting scrolled across the page. The firm, yet oh-so-polite explanation as to why the hotel could not accommodate the widow’s request was so perfectly phrased that Jonathon felt something move through him.

Admiration, to be sure, but something else, as well. Not quite affection, something stronger, something with an edge. “Fanny Mitchell, you are a marvel.”

“You’re not...” she took back the note “...upset that I’m holding firm against the widow’s request?”

“On the contrary.” He subdued the urge to kiss the top of her head. And then her temple. Perhaps even the tip of her nose. “I completely and thoroughly approve.”

Chapter Five

The next morning, Fanny woke before dawn and went straight to work. Preparations for Mrs. Singletary’s ball kept her busy all day, making it impossible to find a spare moment for herself. There hadn’t even been time for a cup of tea with her mother.

Tonight, she promised herself, as she hurried back to the room she called home in the wing reserved for hotel staff. She would seek out both her parents later tonight, as well as visit with each of her siblings and their spouses. For now, she had to dress for the ball.

She slipped into her gown, buttoned up the bodice, tied the ribbons on her sleeves, then secured the last pin in her hair. Turning her attention to the writing desk, where she’d laid out her lists in a neat, tidy row, she couldn’t help but think she’d forgotten something important.

Why did she have this nagging sense of doom, this foreboding that something terrible was going to happen at the ball this evening?

Nerves, she told herself, a simple case of nerves. Perfectly understandable, considering the importance of tonight’s event.

The clock on her nightstand told her she had nearly two hours before the first guests arrived. Plenty of time for another run-through of the ballroom, as long as she didn’t fuss over her appearance.

Ironic, really, since most of her life she’d been lauded solely for her looks. Far too often she’d been touted as that lovely, charming Mitchell girl. Not a terrible reputation to have—quite pleasant, actually—but Fanny wanted to be seen as more than a pretty face.

Tonight the good people of Denver would meet a new Fanny Mitchell. A woman with substance and depth and a complex brain beneath the doll-like features.

With that in mind, she moved closer to her writing desk and reviewed her notes again. Working from top to bottom, left to right, she considered each item, one list at a time. Only after repeating the process twice over did she let out a sigh of relief.

The hotel was ready.

Was she?

Giving in to a moment of vanity—she was representing the Hotel Dupree, after all—she checked her reflection in the standing mirror by the window. The woman staring back at her looked refined and cultured, not frivolous and shallow. She supposed she looked pretty as well, not as striking as she had in the past, but not bland, either. The modern cut of her gown set off her trim figure, while the silvery-blue satin served as a perfect accompaniment to her pale blond hair. Best of all, the color of her dress was Jonathon’s favorite.

A stirring of fascinated wonder settled Fanny’s nerves, calming her ever so slightly. She still didn’t know what had motivated his request to escort her to the ball. And yet hope surged. Why not use her time by his side to get to know him on a more personal level?

Her mood lighter than it had been in days, she gathered up her lists—all five of them—rushed out of the room and sped down the back stairwell. The noise level increased as she conquered each step. By the time she reached the first floor of the hotel she could no longer hear her footsteps.

The kitchen was a hive of activity. A sea of staff members hurried this way and that, carrying trays laden with food, moving with purpose and efficiency.

Fanny nodded in approval.

She entered the ballroom and paused a moment to catch her breath. Light blazed from the chandelier, wall sconces and candelabras placed strategically throughout the empty space. The floors gleamed. The gilded walls shone bright.

For days, Fanny had worried her decision to go with a simple color palette of green, gold and white was a mistake. Not so. Instead of overshadowing the crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, the decorations enhanced the structure’s unique artfulness.

Pleased by the overall effect, she floated through the room, her slippered feet soundless on the parquet flooring. A few mistakes caught her notice, mostly minor details, certainly nothing major. But still.

She could only hope Mrs. Singletary didn’t notice that the ribbons on the candelabras were closer to ivory than gold. And that the cloths on the buffet tables had only three inches of lace hanging over the edge, instead of the requested four.

The stillness on the air was both soothing and yet disconcerting. A room this grand was meant to be full of laughter. Soon, hundreds of voices would clamor for supremacy, each trying to be heard above the loud din. Fanny would probably miss the quiet then.

She turned. And froze.

Her heart took an extra hard thump as she caught sight of the man standing just inside the ballroom. One shoulder propped against the wall, Jonathon watched her in silence, an unreadable expression in his gaze. A sense of déjà vu rocked her to the core. He’d stared at her like this once before, only a few days ago, and she’d found the experience just as unnerving now as then.

She scanned his face, seeing something quite wonderful in his eyes, something soft and approachable and solely for her. She was staring, she knew, but couldn’t help herself. He’d never looked more handsome, or more accessible.

Her heart took a quick tumble.

She searched her mind for something to say. Anything would do, anything at all. “Jonathon, you haven’t changed into your evening clothes.”

Oh, excellent, Fanny, stating the obvious is always a marvelous way to show off your intelligence.

A slow smile spread across his lips. “Not to worry. The ball isn’t for several hours yet, still plenty of time for me to transform into a suitable escort for a woman of your class and style.”

What a kind thing to say, and spoken with such sincerity, too. Really, could the man be any more charming? Could she be any more touched by his compliment?

“You look perfectly fine just as you are,” she whispered.

It was no empty remark. Even in ordinary, everyday business attire, Jonathon Hawkins exuded refined elegance.

Chuckling softly, he pushed away from the wall.

Now her heart raced so hard she worried one of her ribs would crack as a result.

Jonathon’s eyes roamed her face, then lowered over her gown. Appreciation filled his gaze. “You’re wearing my favorite color.”

“I...know.” She swallowed back the catch in her throat. “I chose this dress specifically with you in mind.”

Too late, she realized how her admission sounded, as if her sole purpose was to please him. She had not meant to reveal so much of herself.

He took a step forward. “I’m flattered.”

He took another step.

And then another.

Fanny held steady, unmoving, anxious to see just how close he would come to her.

He stopped his approach.

For the span of three rib-cracking heartbeats they stared into each other’s eyes.

She sighed. The sound came out far too tremulous.

“Relax, Fanny. You’ve checked and rechecked every item on your lists at least three times, probably more. Go and spend a moment with your—”

“How do you know I checked and rechecked my lists that often?”

“Because...” his expression softened “...I know you.”

She fought off another sigh. There was a look of such tenderness about him that for a moment, a mere heartbeat, she ached for what they might have accomplished, together, were they two different people. What they could have been to one another if past circumstances weren’t entered into the equation.

“We’re ready for tonight, Fanny. You’re ready.”

She drew in a slow, slightly uneven breath. “I suppose you’re right.”

He took one more step. He stood so close now she could smell his scent, a pleasant mix of bergamot, masculine spice and...him.

Something unspoken hovered in the air between them, communicated in a language she should know but couldn’t quite comprehend. If he lowered his head just a bit more...

“Go. Spend a few moments with your mother and father before the guests begin to arrive. I’ll come get you there, once I’ve changed my clothes.”

“I’d like that.” She’d very much enjoy the chance to show him off to her parents.

He leaned in closer, closer. Fanny let her eyelids flutter shut. But then the sound of determined footsteps commandeering the hallway had her opening them again.

“That will be Mrs. Singletary,” she said with a rush of air. The widow’s purposeful gait was easy enough to decipher.

“No doubt you are correct.” His lips tilted at an ironic angle, Jonathon shifted to face the doorway.

Mrs. Singletary materialized two seconds later, Philomena a full step behind her. Like Fanny, both women were already dressed for the ball. The widow looked quite striking in a gown made of black and glittering gold satin that spoke of her wealth and status in town.

Philomena’s dress was slightly less elegant, but the pale green silk complemented her smooth complexion and pretty hazel eyes. She looked beautiful, excited.

“Ah, Mr. Hawkins, Miss Mitchell. The very people I wish to see.” The widow moved to a spot directly between Jonathon and Fanny, forcing them to step back. “I have a concern about the timing of our request for donations.”

She paused, eyed them both expectantly, as if waiting for one of them to respond.

Jonathon took the cue. “You foresee a problem?”

“Not a problem per se, I merely wish to switch the order of the night’s events. In the past, I have presented the goodwill baskets at the end of the party. However, this evening I would prefer to do so earlier.”

Though Fanny didn’t think the timing truly mattered—the guests understood this was a charity event—Mrs. Singletary seemed to think this change was necessary. Important, even.

Jonathon inclined his head. “We’d be happy to accommodate your request.”

Taking his lead, Fanny added, “I’ll let the staff know of the change.”

“Excellent.” The widow glanced over her shoulder, clucked her tongue in frustration. “Whatever is that man doing here, when I specifically sent him on an errand outside the hotel?”

Curious as to the identity of that man, Fanny followed the direction of the widow’s gaze. Burke Galloway stood in the doorway, conversing quietly with Philomena. Both looked caught in the moment, as if they were the only two people in the room.

“That girl is proving a most difficult challenge.” Mrs. Singletary shook her head. “Most difficult, indeed.”

Fanny bit back a smile, even as a quote from her favorite poet, Emily Dickinson, came to mind. The heart wants what the heart wants—or else it does not care.

It was clearly evident that a match between Philomena and Jonathon would not come to pass.

Surely, Jonathon was relieved.

Fanny cast a covert glance in his direction. His gaze was locked on her and that was not business in his eyes.

Something far more personal stared back at her. She had but one thought in response.

Oh, my.

* * *

Barely two hours after the first guests arrived, the ballroom overflowed with at least three hundred of Denver’s finest citizens. With the strains of a waltz floating on the air, and a rainbow of dancers whirling past, Jonathon stood away from the main traffic area, Fanny by his side.

He liked having her close, liked knowing they were here, together, presenting a united front as representatives of the hotel.

It seemed the entire female population of Denver had gone all out for tonight’s event. Dressed in formal gowns made of colorful silks or satins, the women wore long, white gloves, and jeweled adornments in their hair that matched the stones glittering around their necks.

Fanny outshone every one of them, including the women in her own family.

He watched her siblings laughing, joking with one another and generally having a good time. Their interaction spoke of affection and easy familiarity. There was an unmistakable connection between them, one that went beyond words.

The Mitchells represented the very essence of family.

An icy numbness spread through Jonathon’s chest.

What did he know of family? Nothing. No, that wasn’t entirely true. His mother had tried to give him a sense of belonging. And, of course, Marc and Laney Dupree had created a home for him at Charity House.

For nearly five years, they’d shown him unconditional love. They’d stood by him, even when he’d made terrible mistakes. It was Marc who’d retrieved him from jail the night Jonathon had confronted Judge Greene at his home, Laney who’d hugged away his pain and sense of betrayal.

Jonathon made a promise to seek them out tonight and thank them for their love and acceptance.

He searched for them now, but was distracted when a shrill, high-pitched female giggle sounded from the center of the dance floor.

One of the two oldest Ferguson sisters was making a spectacle of herself. Jonathon wasn’t certain of her name. He always found it difficult to tell them apart. Unlike their younger sister, Philomena, the two oldest tended to behave in an inappropriate manner more often than not. Yet somehow they always managed to stay just on the right side of propriety.

Fanny released a chagrined sound from deep in her throat. “Penelope is in high spirits this evening. As is Phoebe, I’m afraid. I can’t decide which of them is worse.”

Jonathon divided his gaze between the two women in question. Both were shamelessly flirting with their dance partners. The sisters were so similar in appearance and behavior they were practically interchangeable.

“How do you tell them apart?” he wondered aloud.

“Years of practice.” Fanny sighed again, then pointedly lifted her attention away from the Ferguson girls and to her own family. “My brothers are especially handsome this evening, their wives beyond beautiful. And Callie, oh, how she shines tonight. She’s practically glowing.”

Jonathon didn’t disagree. “Your siblings seem happy.”

“Marriage suits them.” Fanny smiled. “Garrett once told me that when Mitchells fall in love they fall fast, hard and for keeps.”

Emotion flashed in her eyes as she spoke. For a moment, she seemed very far away and very, very sad. As Jonathon watched Fanny, while she watched her siblings, a pang of remorse shot through him.

Was he making the correct decision about marriage? With the right woman, perhaps he could be a good husband. Perhaps, unlike his father and half brother, he wouldn’t let down his wife. Perhaps the risk was worth the reward.

Another louder, shriller giggle rent the air.

“Poor Philomena,” Fanny said, shaking her head. “To have such sisters.”

Jonathon opened his mouth to agree when an older couple twirled past them. He studied the pair, the woman in particular. Fanny’s resemblance to her mother was uncanny. They had the same tilt to their beautiful eyes, the same classic features, the same regal bearing.

“Your mother is quite lovely.”

Fanny’s eyes grew misty. “I’m so relieved to see her breathing easily.”

He reached down to take Fanny’s hand, and laced their fingers together. The connection was light, and was meant to offer her comfort. Yet it was Jonathon who experienced a moment of peace, of rightness.

This woman meant much to him, too much. He never wanted to lose her.

However, lose her he would.

Maybe not tomorrow, or next week, but one day, when some wise man offered her marriage, for all the right reasons.

As much as it would pain Jonathon to watch her fall in love with another man, he wouldn’t stand in her way. Thankfully, the prospect of her leaving him—or rather, the hotel—was a problem for another day.

Tonight, Fanny was all his.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

She returned the gesture, then angled her head to peer into his eyes. A small, secretive smile slid along her lips. His throat seized on a breath. Fanny Mitchell was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.

For the rest of the evening, he promised himself, he would avoid thinking of the future, forget memories of the past. All that mattered was this moment. This night.

This woman.

“Fanny, would you do me the honor of—”

Her sharp intake of air cut off the rest of his request.

He attempted to search her gaze for the cause of her distress, but she was no longer looking at him, rather at a spot just over his right shoulder.

A cold, deadening sensation filled his lungs.

Jonathon knew who stood behind him.

His father. He felt the man’s presence in his gut, in the kick of antagonism that hit Jonathon square in the heart.

His grip on Fanny’s hand tightened. He was probably squeezing a bit too hard. He couldn’t help himself. She was his only lifeline in a sea of uncertain emotion.

Let her go, he told himself. Let. Her. Go.

He couldn’t make his fingers cooperate, couldn’t seem to distance himself from her.

Let her go.

Fanny was the one who pulled her hand free. The absence of their physical connection was like a punch, the pain that sharp and unexpected.

Instead of stepping away, she moved closer and secured her fingers around his arm. Her eyes filled with understanding and something even more disturbing. Sympathy.

He didn’t want her sympathy. Anything but that.

He began to step away from her, to distance himself from what he saw in her eyes. She tightened her grip and smiled sweetly. “You know, Jonathon, it’s long past time we took a turn around the dance floor.”

Her voice came at him as if from a great distance, sounding tinny in his ears, waking a favorite memory he’d tucked deep in the back of his mind. Another evening. Another one of Mrs. Singletary’s charity balls.

Fanny had stood at the edge of a similar dance floor, on the very night of her return from Chicago. Gossip had erupted the moment she’d stepped into the room. Speculation about her reasons for leaving town had been voiced in barely concealed whispers.

She’d held firm under the censure, alone, her posture unmoving, chin lifted in defiance, as courageous as a warrior. She’d been magnificent. Beautiful. Yet Jonathon had seen past the false bravado. He’d seen the nerves and vulnerability living beneath the calm facade.

He’d asked her to dance.

Later, when the waltz had come to an end, she’d thanked him for rescuing her from an uncomfortable moment.

Now she was rescuing him.

It seemed somehow fitting.

“I’d like nothing more than to dance with you, Fanny.”

Taking charge of the moment, he directed her onto the floor and then pulled her into his arms.

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