An Irresistible Temptation (4 page)

Sophie rose. This tea was over. The woman was
a snoop and a busybody, and Sophie wanted her out of the house as
soon as possible.

“Thank you for coming over,” Sophie said,
stepping into the hall, so Eliza had to stand up and follow. “But I
have to get back to the packing. I’m trying to get Charlotte’s
things on the train in the next day or so.”

It wasn’t a lie, though Sophie had spent more
time playing the piano and sitting on the porch swing than
packing.

“So, you’ll be leaving soon?” Eliza
persisted.

“Yes, I believe I already said that.” Eliza’s
obvious interest in her imminent departure made Sophie want to stay
longer, just to spite her. Why the woman provoked her ire, Sophie
couldn’t really say. What a shame that she could look so lovely and
yet seem so unfriendly at the same time.

“Well, I won’t take up anymore of your time
then.” With a wave of her hand, Eliza Prentice was gone, strolling
out to her awaiting buggy with its blue hood that kept the sun off
her unblemished skin.

“Hm,” Sophie said to herself. Had Charlotte
mentioned something about Miss Prentice? Perhaps it would come to
her. She turned and looked at the two open trunks, each partially
filled, and sighed. Maybe tomorrow she would finish them. Right
then, she wanted to lose herself in her music. And brood.

*****

With the late afternoon sun on her back,
Sophie strolled into town, nodding at Dan, the feedstore owner, and
then at Ely. She was headed to Doc Cuthins’ practice to find Sarah.
They were going to eat at Fuller’s, Sophie’s treat for all that
Sarah had done for her so far.

But when she pushed open the door, Sophie saw
no sign of Sarah. She sat down to wait on one of the comfy seats
for Doc’s patients. Sophie had discovered that he was very
well-respected in town and had been ever since arriving as a young
doctor over twenty-five years earlier.

Next to her chair was an old newspaper, and
she was surprised and delighted to see that the article on the
front page had the byline “Charles Sanborn.”
What a smart
sister-in-law she had!
And, it was clear that Sarah loved
Charlotte, like a daughter.

Picking up the paper, she started to read,
then heard the door to the back examination room open.

“Sophie,” came a masculine voice that was
definitely not Doc Cuthins.

Riley. Now, why did his voice cause some
subtle reaction in her body and brain? She definitely felt her
pulse quicken and her mind started casting around for something to
say. Perhaps it was the same reason she’d taken care with her hair
and clothing before walking into town, on the off chance she’d
encounter him again.

Sophie slowly put down the newspaper, giving
herself time to get a hold of any wayward emotions, then looked up,
knowing she’d see his strikingly handsome face.

She gasped. “Sweet mother,” she said aloud,
standing up. “What happened to you?”

He laughed. His face—and she assumed the rest
of him, too—was scrubbed clean, and without his hat, she could see
that his hair was as russet brown as Alfred’s mane and looked soft
to the touch. And touch it, she wanted to do. Gracious—clean pants,
bleached shirt, even clean boots.

“Are you finished looking me over?” he asked,
arms crossed.

She blushed for the first time in years. She
only hoped her mouth hadn’t been hanging open.

“I didn’t know you had it in you to tidy up
so well.” She tried to sound nothing more than jovial.

She was rewarded with his dimpled grin that
actually made her stomach flutter.

“Believe it or not, beautiful lady,” he said,
“this is how I look every morning and every evening. It’s the
in-between hours that give me a bit of trouble. At least, when I’m
in Spring.”

She was thinking about how he’d called her
beautiful and about seeing him in the mornings and last thing each
night . . .

“And when you’re not in Spring City?” Sophie
asked.

He shrugged. “Then I look like everyone else,
I guess. I don’t have a reason to get covered in dirt in San
Francisco.”

She was just thinking that Riley Dalcourt
could never look like everyone else, not with that face, those
eyes, that smile, when his words caught up with her.

“San Francisco?”

“Yup. I thought Sarah might’ve told you.”

“Told her what?” Sarah asked, coming in the
door with a package in one hand and her purse in the other.

“That I don’t live here full time, but
am—”

“Riley, why would we be talking about you,
son?” She looked at Sophie. “Men! They believe they’re all we think
about and all we talk about.”

Sophie smiled. Actually, she would have liked
to have heard more about Riley, but she wasn’t about to say so.

Sarah put her things down on her table. “Are
you all done in the back?”

“Yes, ma’am. Bottles labeled, samples
checked, instruments cleaned.”

“Good, then you can take Sophie here along to
Fuller’s. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

“Oh,” Sophie said, feeling immediately
awkward at imposing on Riley. “If you’re not ready, I’ll wait here
with you.”

“Nonsense. I have a quick letter to write to
catch the afternoon post. A bit of a supply issue,” she said,
looking at Riley as she wrinkled up her nose. “You know that cramp
bark from Eli Lilly. They keep telling me it’s on the way. Very
frustrating.” She turned back to Sophie. “But it’s past lunchtime
and I can’t have you wasting away. So get along, and I’ll follow
right quick.”

“If you’re sure,” Sophie said and found
herself being pushed out the door by Sarah, followed by Riley, who
had grabbed his hat off the hat stand and closed the door behind
them. But she didn’t take a single step along the wooden
sidewalk.

“Really, I’m perfectly fine, happy even,
going to Fuller’s by myself,” she insisted. “I don’t need a keeper
or a babysitter.”

He fingered the brim of his hat, then rubbed
his hand along the back of his neck. Obviously, he didn’t want to
go against Sarah Cuthins.

“Well, how about a friend, then? I’m getting
hungry myself.”

Sophie paused.
What was the harm?

“Oh, well, in that case.” She started walking
toward Fuller’s and he fell in to step beside her. They were silent
for a moment, but not awkwardly so.

“You were right, by the way,” he said
casually.

“I usually am. Right, I mean. That’s what my
brother says. But about what precisely?”

He shot her a grin, apparently appreciating
her sassy retort.

“About the cake. It was only a box of crumbs
by the time we opened it.”

We . . .

“I ate it anyway, still tasted fine. But some
people like things just so, I guess.”

“Some people . . . such as your fiancée?”
Sophie bit her tongue. She shouldn’t have pried. But Riley
chuckled.

“She’s particular, all right.”

“Most women are,” Sophie agreed, trying to
redeem herself for snooping.

*****

“Sit anywhere you like,” Jessie offered,
taking a second look when she saw Sophie and Riley together. She
clucked her tongue and walked away.

“Why am I getting the feeling that this is
not a good idea?” Sophie asked, tilting her head and looking at
this umber-haired man who seemed to have the easiest smile of
anyone she’d ever known. There it was again.

“No reason on earth,” Riley said, evidently
not wanting to discuss his fiancée anymore. “Two friends having
lunch, that’s all. And the only thing better than the turkey
pie—”

“And the lemon cake,” Sophie cut in.

“And the lemon cake,” Riley repeated, “is the
meatloaf. Better than my mother used to make, and that’s saying
something.”

“Where are your parents?” Sophie figured
since she had already asked him why he was filthy, she could at
least ask him something a little more appropriate.

“I don’t rightly now.” He chuckled at her
expression, but paused as Jessie took their orders. “My father’s a
cartographer and my mother loves him very much. So when he’s out
surveying, she’s by his side. But our house is out of town about a
mile. Dad likes it quiet.”

Now it was Sophie’s turn to laugh. “Spring
City seems quiet enough without needing to move out of town.”

“It wasn’t always this way. We used to have a
gold rush going on, but that all died out years ago. Anyway, even
then, it was probably nothing compared to Boston.”

So he knew where she was from. He must have
asked Sarah.

“Or San Francisco,” she added, remembering
their conversation that had been cut short.

“True. First time I got off the train there,
whew, I was gawking like a greenhorn. The number of ships, the
military contingents, the prostitutes—sorry, but I’m just telling
you—so many people, Mexicans and Chinese and Chinese ladies dressed
up as Mexicans, and the Barbary Coast. Sophie, you’d have to see it
for yourself, but not at night. Gambling dens with two hundred men
in them at a time.”

He stopped and took a bite of the hot food.
Sophie couldn’t help but notice that his eyes had taken on a
certain spark. Obviously, despite being born and raised in Spring
City, Riley Dalcourt was taken by the excitement of a real
metropolis.

Swallowing, he continued. “Less than a decade
ago, with what they called the Big Bonanza, a million dollars a day
for two months came flowing into the city. Can you imagine?”

She couldn’t. Everyone had heard stories of
the gold rush and the Comstock Lode, but the amount of wealth was
truly staggering.

“And you notice how quiet it is here?” Riley
asked.

She nodded. She’d noticed little else since
she got off the train.

“Well, in San Francisco, it seems as though
music is on every corner as soon as the sun goes down. Everything
from accordions to violins and everything in between, including
bagpipes. Sometimes you just have to stop and listen and toss coins
in cause you can’t believe how beautiful it sounds, all mixed
together, the hand-organs and flutes, the banjos and even
pianos.”

“Pianos! On the street?” She nearly choked on
her last bite of meatloaf.

“No, no,” he said and laughed. “The pianos
are in the saloons, but all the windows and the doors are open and
it all floats out, along with some of the saddest looking folk
you’d ever care to see.”

“Who could be sad with all that music?”
Sophie wondered.

“Well, the gambling is bad, the drinking is
worse. And the women!” He stopped abruptly, and she detected a
flush under his tanned skin. “In the Barbary Coast, everyone seems
addicted to something and can’t help themselves.”

“And what about you?”

He smiled. “The only thing I’m addicted to is
riding as far and fast as I can when I’m here where there’s space
to do it. I don’t have a lot of space in San Francisco.”

Sophie felt a sharp desire to see this
coastal city, to compare it to her own beloved Boston, and to
explore its differences. Maybe she would make that her next
destination. But before she could say anything more, Sophie
realized the restaurant had grown exceedingly quiet, the stillness
broken only by sharp footsteps rapping quickly across the floor,
until they came up directly behind her chair and stopped.

“Riley,” the voice was soft but it made the
hair on the back of Sophie’s neck stand up.

Sophie swiveled her head around to see who it
was. The seemingly angelic Eliza Prentice stood there, her face
flushed, her lucent blue eyes flashing. She looked down at Sophie,
who found her own mouth had fallen slightly open though no words
would come out.

“Hey, Eliza,” Riley said, seemingly
unbothered by whatever scene the rest of the diners were
anticipating.

“Don’t you ‘hey, Eliza’ me.” Her voice was
still so soft and low that Sophie was sure only the three of them
could hear. Then it rose considerably: “What in the hell do you
think you’re doing?”

“Miss Prentice,” Sophie began as the shoe
dropped and she realized that Eliza must be the formidable fiancée.
“I hope you’re not imagining—”

“Why is she speaking to me?” Eliza said,
still looking solely at Riley.

“Now, Eliza. Don’t get all ruffled. Sit down,
if you want. We’re merely having a meal.”

“You are not to sit down and have a meal with
another woman. Do you realize what that looks like? What people are
already saying? Do you realize how that makes me feel?”

Sophie saw Riley’s face change at that, some
unnamed emotion that ending up looking like regret.

“Sit with us Eliza,” he said, with infinite
patience, “and then it won’t look like anything. I’m not trying to
make you feel bad.”

He shot Sophie a quick rueful glance that
made Eliza stamp her foot. Luckily, since chairs hadn’t been thrown
or a table immediately overturned, the other customers had returned
to their food and conversations.

“There’s room for only one woman at this
table,” Eliza insisted.

Sophie did not want to be the cause of an
ultimatum that could surely end in damage to Riley’s engagement or
humiliation to herself when Riley was forced to ask her to leave.
She found her voice.

“Miss Prentice, I was just leaving.” She
pushed her chair back, causing Eliza to take a step sideways. Riley
stood as well.

“Thank you for keeping me company,” she said
to Riley, and she meant it. She turned to Eliza, “Thank you for
your graciousness in letting me borrow your fiancée.”

Eliza sucked in her breath, about to let
loose with an expletive, Sophie imagined.

“There you are,” Sarah Cuthins said, hurrying
over. “I’m sorry I took so long.” Astutely, she took in the scene.
“John Worthen brought in his boy and luckily Doc had just come
back. But that young’un wouldn’t stop crying and it was only a boil
on his foot.”