One Pink Rose; One White Rose; One Red Rose (47 page)

“I'm sure he already knows that.”

“I also want to tell him how sorry I am, but I have to be realistic. Ezekiel isn't going to give up, is he?”

“No, he isn't,” he said. “Five thousand dollars is worth his trouble.”

“Will you promise me something?” She pushed his arm away and turned to face him. “If anything happens to me, or if we should get separated, will you take the money to Thomas?”

“I'm not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Adam, the money's important to those people. It will buy food and clothes and peace of mind. Promise me,” she demanded.

“I promise.”

She bowed her head. “I can't imagine what you must think of me. I was so naive and stupid and vain and . . .”

He stopped her from berating herself by tilting her chin up and kissing her. His mouth brushed over hers in a gentle, undemanding caress.

“You're good-hearted,” he whispered gruffly.

She pulled back. “I can't let you think that. I'm not good-hearted. If I hadn't been so full of myself, I would have seen through Ezekiel right away. I acted like a fool, but I've learned my lesson. Now do you understand why I've become so cynical?”

Because she was being so earnest, he didn't dare laugh. He couldn't contain his smile though. “I understand you might want to be cynical, but, sweetheart, you haven't quite mastered it yet. There isn't anything cynical about you. You're one of the most trusting souls I've ever met. You have a beautiful heart, Genevieve.”

“You did it again,” she whispered.

He was slowly pulling her onto his lap. She didn't resist and, in fact, put her arms around his neck.

She stared into his eyes and thought that he was the most amazingly perfect man in the whole world. How would she ever have the strength to leave him?

“What did I do?” he asked.

“You called me sweetheart,” she told him in a breathless whisper. “You mustn't do that anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like it,” she stammered. “And now you're going to kiss me again, aren't you? And you really shouldn't. When the time comes for us to go our separate ways, it's going to be very difficult for me, and if you keep kissing me, I'll end up miserable. I have to go to Paris, and you have to go back home. We should just be friends, shouldn't we? But, Adam, I think I really want you to kiss me now. Just one, last kiss, and then we . . .”

“Shake hands?” he suggested dryly.

“Yes, or you could give me a peck on the cheek, the way friends do.”

She wanted friendship and nothing more? Didn't she understand they had gone way past that stage? Maybe it was his fault, he decided. He hadn't told her how he felt about her. He hadn't allowed himself to think about it, much less discuss it. He knew he cared for her, but as he did with everything else, he wanted to think about all the ramifications before he told her.

His voice was deceptively mild when he said, “I think you need to get something straight in your head. I don't kiss my friends, I don't peck my friends, and I sure as certain don't call my friends sweetheart.”

“We can't become involved.”

She really was an exasperating woman. “We
are
involved.”

She looked miserable. “We're all wrong for each other. You do realize that, don't you? You want peace and quiet. I'm a troublemaker.”

“No, you're not. You're aggravating and as stubborn as can be, but you aren't a troublemaker, and I'm definitely not your friend.”

She was slowly pulling back from him. He wasn't about to let her get away. He jerked her hard against his chest, ignoring her startled cry of surprise. His hand cupped the back of her head, and as he was moving toward her, he whispered, “I never had a chance, did I?”

She didn't understand what he meant, and he was too busy kissing her to explain.

His mouth was warm and firm against hers. It wasn't a friendly kiss. He made sure of that. He coaxed her mouth open, and his tongue swept inside to mate with hers. She began to respond, timidly at first and then with growing passion. He melted away her inhibitions in a matter of heartbeats, and, Lord, she tasted as sweet and fresh as he remembered. He couldn't get enough of her. Passion flowed between them as his mouth slanted over hers again and again, and when at last he forced himself to pull back, he couldn't seem to draw a proper breath. Her own shortness of breath was music to his ears.

The hell he was her friend.

“Now do you want to shake my hand?” he asked, driving his point home.

His sarcasm was lost on her. She was blissfully content snuggled up against him. Her head rested in the crook of his neck and her eyes closed in sweet surrender to the moment.

He held her for a long while in his arms. His hands tenderly caressed her back, and all he wanted to think about was her soft body. Unfortunately, thoughts of Ezekiel Jones kept intruding.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Ezekiel Jones,” he said.

“I knew it had to be something unpleasant. You're squeezing the breath out of me, and your muscles have become rigid.”

He forced himself to relax and loosened his grip on her. “Is that better?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I should probably get off your lap, but I don't want to move,” she admitted. “I was also thinking about Ezekiel. Do you think he was telling the truth when he said he had gotten away with murder? Or was he just trying to scare us?”

“I think he was telling the truth, and I'd sure be interested in finding out the particulars. You told me Ezekiel changed his name. Do you know what his real name is?”

“Henry Stevens,” she answered. “I heard Lewis call him by his full name once. Ezekiel became furious and threatened dire consequences if he ever called him by his real name again. The stupid man was yelling so loud most of the choir heard him.”

Adam filed the information away. Henry Stevens. He wouldn't forget the name again. Had Ezekiel changed his name because he was a wanted man, or had the crime gone unreported? Adam decided to find out as soon as possible.

“When we get to Salt Lake City, I think I'd like to pay a visit to the marshal's office.”

“I doubt anyone's there. Don't you remember Mr. Steeple told us that three U.S. marshals were in Middleton, investigating the bank robbery?”

The plan came to him all of a sudden, and he found himself smiling in anticipation. His idea was perfect, and if it worked, it would be well worth the risk. Ezekiel would get what was coming to him, and Adam wouldn't have to kill him. There were a lot of
ifs
involved. If he could find a safe place for Genevieve, and if he could trick Ezekiel into following him to Middleton, and if the marshals were indeed there, then Adam would lead the bastard right into their hands.

“I think we should split up,” she said.

She'd spoken his thought aloud. “Is that so?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “One of us should lead Ezekiel north, while the other takes the money to Kansas.”

He shook his head. “The money should go in a bank until I've dealt with Ezekiel and his friends.”

“Are you crazy? There are bank robbers roaming these hills. They'll steal it. My plan makes sense.”

“I've got a better plan. We'll find a safe place for you, and I'll take care of Ezekiel.”

“It's out of the question. This is my problem and I have to solve it.”

“No, it's our problem, but I'm going to solve it. You aren't going with me. I would be worried about you the entire time, and I wouldn't be able to concentrate on what I needed to do.”

“Such as?”

“Putting an end to Ezekiel's terror tactics.”

“It's very sweet of you to be worried about me, but, Adam, I won't be left out. Do you expect me to sit quietly in a parlor somewhere while you put yourself in such danger? I won't hear of it.”

He smiled. “I wasn't thinking of putting you in a parlor. I have another place in mind where I can be absolutely certain Ezekiel won't go near you or the money.”

“There isn't any such place.”

He kissed her again just to get her to stop arguing with him. “Trust me, Genevieve. I've thought of the perfect place.”

H
e put her in jail. Even though she had to admit it was a perfect place to keep the money safe, she still wasn't happy about Adam's choice, because she knew he expected her to stay inside while he went gallivanting after Ezekiel and his men. If she had had a few minutes alone with him, she would have let him know just how unhappy she was, but the jail was crowded with lawmen, and she wasn't about to criticize Adam in front of strangers. She did glare at him though when he suggested she might be more comfortable inside one of the empty cells.

She sat down in a chair next to Sheriff Norton's desk, put her satchel on her lap, and folded her hands on top. Adam stood behind her. After removing a stack of papers from his chair, the sheriff sat down and tilted back against the wall. He was an older man with a big belly and melancholy eyes. His face reminded Genevieve of a hound dog's. His jowls extended past his chin, and when he smiled—which seemed to be most of the time—the folds of extra skin on either side of his face wrinkled up to his ears. He was very kind to her and Adam, and she liked him immensely. His voice radiated fatherly concern when he asked how he could be of help, and he listened patiently without interrupting once while Adam explained why they were there.

Two U.S. marshals leaned against the wall and listened. The men were so similar in appearance and attitude they could have been brothers. They were about the same height, nearly six feet, and had the same worn and world-weary expressions. The more muscular one was named Davidson, and the other was called Morgan.

Their presence should have been a comfort, but they made her nervous instead. Their gazes seemed to bore right through her. There was an air of danger about them as well. She couldn't even begin to imagine the horrors they must have seen that would have turned them into such frightening men. Her mind conjured up one horrible possibility after another, and before long she was fighting the urge to jump up and leave.

She really wished they would stop staring at her. She kept expecting one of them to pounce on her, and she glanced over at them every other minute just to make sure they hadn't moved.

Adam must have sensed her unease because he put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

After he had finished explaining their circumstances to the sheriff, including details she wished he hadn't mentioned, Marshal Davidson suggested that Genevieve look through the posters of wanted men to see if Ezekiel was one of them.

The sheriff pointed to a knee-high stack of papers on the floor in the corner behind him. “There they are, but I'll wager you it will take you the rest of the day to sort through them.”

“Adam, are you certain Jones and his friends are following you?” Morgan asked the question but watched Genevieve all the while.

“Yes, I made sure they could easily follow my tracks to Middleton.”

Davidson took a step toward her. She visibly jumped and then became angry.

“Gentlemen, what are you staring at?” she demanded.

The marshals glanced at one another before turning back to her. Davidson raised an eyebrow and looked a little sheepish, but Morgan maintained his glacial expression. She didn't think the man had blinked in the past five minutes.

“I was looking at you, ma'am,” Davidson said.

“I wish you wouldn't,” she said. “I swear to heaven you make me want to confess to a crime just to get you to stop.”

“Did you have a particular crime in mind?” Morgan asked. A hint of a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

The marshal became human to her. She began to relax. “No,” she answered. “I would have to make one up. Do you know how intimidating you are? Yes, of course you do. That's how you interrogate criminals, isn't it?”

“Genevieve, what are you talking about?” Adam asked.

“You wouldn't understand even if I tried to explain. You do the very same thing.”

Davidson burst into laughter. “Ma'am, did you really impersonate Ruby Leigh . . . ?”

“Diamond,” Morgan supplied with a grin.

“You sure don't look like the kind of woman who would go by such a name,” Davidson remarked.

She frowned at the marshal. “How exactly do I look?”

“Refined,” Davidson answered. “You're a lady, and I'm having trouble picturing you up on a stage in a saloon.”

“I didn't impersonate anyone, at least not on purpose. Mr. Steeple tricked me. Adam, you really didn't need to tell the marshals I sang in a saloon.”

He squeezed her shoulder again. Davidson came to his defense. “He was telling us how he first spotted Ezekiel, so he had to mention the saloon.”