Samantha James (59 page)

"Wh-what do you want?" Her voice came out high and tight, sounding nothing at all like her own.

For a moment Kane said nothing. He'd startled her, he realized, although why, he couldn't fathom. Surely she was used to it. But her eyes were wide and uncertain and very blue, filled with pinpoints of lights that glittered like tiny jewels. He realized vaguely that he couldn't remember the last time he'd noticed the color of someone's eyes.

His lips curled abruptly. Did she know who he was? Undoubtedly. All at once he had no trouble deciphering her expression. She was afraid and trying hard not to show it.

His eyes glinted as he tipped the chair back on two legs. Shoving his thumbs into his belt, he regarded her through half-closed eyelids. "I don't like to play games, sweetheart," he drawled with a lazy half-smile. "Try to keep that in mind."

It was his tone more than the words themselves that rattled Abby from her daze. Why, of all the arrogant... A swell of indignant outrage swept through her as he proceeded to inspect her from head to toe. His eyes took liberties no other man had dared, lingering with brazen interest on the tempting swell of her breasts and hips.

Well, she thought half-angrily, half-desperately, at least she had his attention, which was what she'd wanted in the first place. But her fingers fairly itched to slap that insolent smirk from his lips.

The chair came down with a resounding thump. "You gonna sit or not?" he demanded.

Abby clenched her jaw so hard her teeth hurt. She dropped down into the chair unceremoniously. Her lips smiled; her eyes did not as she lifted her chin and returned his bold regard.

She said nothing as he turned and signaled the barkeep for another glass. She kept her head down and averted her eyes when the barkeep delivered it a moment later, praying he wouldn't realize that she didn't belong here. She caught a telltale odor when he shuffled past her and experienced a sliver of relief; apparently the customers weren't the only ones who freely imbibed. That was undoubtedly why he hadn't thrown her out on her ear.

Kane leaned forward and tipped the neck of the bottle into the clean glass. He poured it nearly half full, then set it before her. "My name's Kane," he said.

"I'm .. . Abigail." She hated the breathless quality of her voice but she couldn't seem to help it.

His laugh got her dander up further. "Abigail, eh? Somehow that doesn't suit you. Sounds too damned prim and proper. Maybe I should call you Susannah or Polly or something like that." The brash sweep of his gaze made her grow hot all over.

Abby beat down the fury simmering in her veins. It wouldn't do to anger him, she reminded herself.

She conjured up what she hoped was a convincing smile. "I really prefer Abigail," she murmured.

Kane made no reply. There was a faint, nagging feeling tugging away inside him. He couldn't dismiss the notion that something wasn't quite right. Abigail—Lord, but it was hard to call her that!— was unlike any whore he'd ever met. Her skin looked fresh and natural, void of any rice powder; nor were her lips rouged like Daisy's. Nor did she reek of cheap perfume. Those incredibly blue eyes were wide and unerringly direct. The air of purity which surrounded her was puzzling. He had to remind himself that she was no innocent or she wouldn't be here.

Abby curled her fingers around the glass and brought it closer. She glanced at him with a faint smile. "I haven't seen you in town before."

He gave a negligent shrug. "I just got in yesterday."

Abby's nerves were jumping. Simply to have something to do, she brought the glass to her lips and took a small sip.

She wasn't prepared for the taste. The liquid burned her throat all the way down so that she coughed and sputtered. Her eyes began to water. When she finally raised her head, she was totally disconcerted to discover Kane watching her with a mocking light in his eyes.

"It's a little strong for my taste," she defended herself weakly.

I'll bet, Kane thought with cynical amusement.

He reached out and caught hold of her hand. 'Tell me something, sweetheart." Damn, but he just couldn't bring himself to call her Abigail. "How'd a girl like you get into this line of work?"

He began toying idly with her fingers.

Darn! Abby thought frantically. Did he have to touch her? If she could have pulled away, she would have. Why, just looking at him made it hard to swallow. She was so close she could see each thick dark hair of those devilishly slanted brows. She guessed he had shaved earlier, but already a dark shadow lined his cheeks and jaw. The curl of his lips was thin, maybe even a little harsh. He didn't seem brutal, but she sensed a knife-edged hardness in him. No doubt it came from years of living on the fringes of the law, but the realization did little to quell her uneasiness.

"I suppose you could say I came here... out of necessity." Her answer was more instinct than conscious thought. "You see, my father died recently and left me alone with no money." Abby took a deep breath and prayed he wouldn't think she was babbling. "This is my first day, you see. I'm here because I—I had nowhere else to go. No one to turn to—"

Nowhere to rim, Kane finished silently... and nowhere to hide. Unbidden—unwanted—the thought came out of nowhere, bringing a wealth of bitter remembrance ... a wealth of aching pain.

Something inside Kane seemed to shrivel up and freeze. "Amen to that," he said heavily. He stared into the cloudy contents of his glass, a bitter twist to his mouth.

A flicker of panic shot through Abby. He looked as if he were a million miles away. Why, he acted as if he'd completely forgotten her existence. She couldn't let that happen, not when she'd come this far!

"What about you?" she ventured tentatively. "Are you just passing through?"

She breathed a sigh of relief when his gaze lifted, reclaiming hers.

"I've been drifting for a while," he said with a shrug. "Thought I'd stick around for a few days and see if any of the ranchers around here could use another hand."

She tipped her head to the side in what she hoped was an inviting pose. Womanly wiles were totally alien to her, but maybe if he were to fall under her spell, he wouldn't refuse her. "In that case," she murmured, "welcome to town." Summoning her courage, ignoring her trepidation, she boldly laid her hand on his where it rested on the tabletop. At the contact, her nerves seemed to quiver. His, she couldn't help but notice, was much wider and bigger than her own.

He focused where her hand lay atop his, seemingly as captivated as she. She held her breath when his gaze trickled slowly up her bare arm toward her face. It rested for a disturbingly long moment on her mouth.

The next thing Abby knew a muscled arm shot out. She felt herself bodily lifted and pulled onto his lap. Struggling for balance, she was forced to twist her fingers in the front of his leather vest.

A searing heat rose within him; he felt as if a fever had entered his blood. Strange, he thought. Tonight with Daisy, he hadn't been able to summon any semblance of desire at all. But with Abigail... This potent surge of yearning was suddenly all he could feel... and no doubt she could, too.

She wasn't a scrawny little chicken, that's for sure, Kane decided. Her features were delicately molded, yet there was strength in the set of her jaw.

Though she might look—and feel—as fine-boned and breakable as china, she wasn't. As slender as she was, the feel of her flesh beneath his fingers was firm and resilient.

His gaze slid down the ivory column of her neck. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath she took, fanning the burning ache inside him. If they had been alone, he wouldn't delay sampling such tempting bounty with lips and hands and mouth.

No, he thought again, she was no innocent.

"You want to dance?" His whisper was hot and breathy in her ear.

Speech was impossible. Abby's pulse fluttered like a wild bird. The single thought dominating her mind was that he must have been a giant. Even sitting on his lap, she had to tilt her chin slightly to meet his eyes. The hungry way he looked at her did nothing to alleviate her apprehension. His hand scaling up and down the length of her spine left a trail of burning heat wherever he touched. She wanted to scream at him to stop, but she could hardly take in enough air to breathe, let alone speak.

Finally she looked away in confusion. 'Tm not really in the mood for dancing," she heard herself say.

"Good," he said thickly. "Because neither am I." Kane couldn't control his response to her nearness. He was only a man, and not a very upright one at that. She felt so warm, so alive, while he felt a part of him had died inside. Maybe it was selfish, but right now he wanted to claim some of that vibrant warmth for his own.

To hell with the ache in his head, he thought suddenly. It had settled in his nether regions.

One hand came up to tangle in her hair. With the other he guided her chin upward and fused his lips to hers. In the back of his mind he expected her to taste of sour whiskey, like Daisy. But her lips had the lush redness of ripe strawberries—and tasted just as sweet.

Abby had one terrifying glimpse of fiercely glowing eyes just before his mouth came down on hers. Her heart lurched. Her mind, her entire being, spun crazily. Her only thought was how she'd been sweet on Marcus Connors for ages. He'd given her her first—her only—real kiss. But it wasn't long before she realized it was nothing like this!

Shock and panic kept her motionless in his arms. This kiss was far beyond Abby's experience. His mouth was hot and hard against hers; she had no choice but to part her lips against the demanding pressure of his. When she did, his tongue dove swift and sure, ruthlessly stroking the honeyed depths of her mouth. She inhaled sharply, scandalized that he would invade her this way. Part of her wanted to struggle, to push him back and demand that he apologize for his brazenness. Yet it wasn't so very unpleasant after all. She felt her fingers curl helplessly into his shoulders. Everything inside her seemed to melt and go weak. She gave a silent prayer of thanks that she was sitting, for if she'd been standing, she'd surely have fallen into a graceless heap.

By the time he lifted his head she was panting softly.

His arm was tight about her waist. He nuzzled the velvety skin of her temple. "There's a better place for this, sweetheart."

His words were a husky whisper directly in her ear. Abby dragged in a startled, half-frightened breath. "What?" she gasped.

"Let's go upstairs. To my room."

Her mind worked frantically. His breathing was jagged and heavy against her cheek. Surely he wasn't saying that he... that they . .. Abby didn't know exactly what went on in those rooms upstairs, but she had a pretty good idea. She also suspected that Kane—if she let him—was about to further her education.

The problem was that she didn't have a plan beyond demanding that he help her. Mute frustration welled up inside her. Maybe she should have dragged him out of the saloon, tied him up and kidnapped him ... The thought never evolved beyond that.

Because it seemed she had a plan after all.

The quick hard pounding of her heart seemed to jolt her entire body. "Whatever you say," she whispered.

With a surge of power he was on his feet. Abby allowed him lead her upstairs, caught squarely between excitement and fear. There would be no turning back now, she acknowledged. Up until this moment, she could have bolted and ran if the going got too rough. But once she was alone with Kane upstairs, that might prove far more difficult.

In his room, Abby stood near the door and rubbed her hands together while Kane lit a lamp. She glanced around as hazy yellow light began to fill the corner. There was a wide bed pushed against one wall, covered with a faded blue quilt. A cracked, yellowed washbasin that had once been white stood atop a small table on the opposite wall. A worn leather saddlebag slumped on the room's only chair.

A crash from the piano downstairs made her jump. How on earth could anyone sleep here, Abby wondered in annoyance. But all at once she felt like a fool.
You idiot
! Fiercely she berated herself.. Sleeping obviously wasn't what they came here for.

Trying not to think about the blush that was surely staining her cheeks, her eyes sought Kane's. It didn't help to discover he was standing near the foot of the bed, watching her with those strange silver eyes.

"Come here."

Abby didn't move. She wondered wildly if she hadn't just made the biggest mistake of her life. Kane was so much taller than she. It was a certainty he was stronger.

"The night's not gettin' any longer," he drawled. "What are you waiting for?" His smile was slow and lazy, almost taunting.

Feeling like a man on his way to the hangman's noose, Abby moved forward on wooden legs.

Kane's smile waned as she came nearer. In some far distant corner of his mind, he wondered again why she was here at the Silver Spur. A woman like her deserved far more than the little she had.