To Love a Scoundrel (4 page)

"But how can I—"

"That's one reason I've decided to send MacMillan along with you on this job. We'll try to get around that little rule with his help. Besides, it can't hurt to have two of my finest people chasing after two of the best criminal minds we've ever run across."

But she knew him too well for that, understood that he was somehow concerned for her safety as well. Jewel stood up. "This is going to be tougher than I first thought, isn't it?"

Allan averted his gaze and stared down at the floor before he finally said, "It could get real tough—real nasty, too. Harry Benton is a swindler, pure and simple. He doesn't concern me, but Jesse James does. To my knowledge, Jesse's never shot a woman, but then, he's never been the object of such an intense manhunt before, either. I'll understand if you don't want to accept this assignment."

With a barely perceptible nod she informed him she did understand, then strolled over to the window. The sun had fought its way through the fog and split the horizon. Gripping the windowsill, Jewel leaned forward and closed her eyes. She'd been in danger before. Even the report she'd just turned in related the incident with the Connors fellow and his gun at her throat. Danger was part of the job.

Was it really Jesse James and his ruthless disregard for the lives of others that concerned Allan so? Or was he closing in on the truth about her insatiable thirst for information on Harry Benton—her obsession, as he'd said—to track the man down?

Jewel took several mind-clearing breaths. The soft, comforting aroma of fresh-baked bread called to her, mingled with the sharp, fresh scent of cedar permeating Allan's office. The combination was as reassuring as it was intriguing, made her feel anxious and comforted at the same time. Then Archie MacMillan burst into the room.

"Looking for me, boss?" he said through a sparkling grin.

"The one and only." Allan gripped his hand and called to his thoughtful operative. "Jewel? Have you made a decision?"

She turned until she was facing the desk. Mac, a scant inch taller than her own five feet four inches, stood level with his employer. Although at fifty-two he was four years younger than Allan, nature had rescinded its loan and snatched back most of his pure white hair, leaving Mac with a ring of short, sparse stubble. This connected with an elongated mustache and oversized sideburns, circling his bald head like a silver moat. His eyes, a pale dove gray, held none of Pinkerton's intensity but more than made up for that with a glimmer of his sheer joy for living. There was no question in her mind as to what her decision would be.

Jewel marched across the room with her hand extended. "I'm looking forward to working with you again, partner."

"Ah, Jewel, I just knew you couldn't resist, even if you do have to dress like a homely old spinster."

"Humph," she muttered, shaking his hand. "There are those who already call me a spinster. I don't think I'll be changing that much."

"Don't worry about what others have to say about you." Mac grinned, sure his next comments would cheer her up. "Why, one look at you ought to tell those folks you're a spinster by choice, not by circumstance."

Jewel gave him a sideways look. "Thanks... I think."

"All right, you two." Allan pushed himself away from the desk and walked back to his chair. "Both of you, have a seat and let's get down to business. We have a lot of plans to make and not too much time in which to make them."

* * *

Ten days later Jewel and Mac sat in the austere but very efficient office of Fred Harvey and waited for his decision.

"Highly irregular. Tsk, tsk. Very irregular." The Englishman thumbed through Jewel's documents, then glanced up at the couple. With a wave of one thoroughly scrubbed hand, he said in a thick British accent, "Would you stand, please?"

Wearing the most demure expression she could muster, Jewel delicately stood up and clasped her hands together.

"Whirl around, if you please." Fred Harvey made a circle with his index finger.

Slowly, fighting a scowl, Jewel spun around like a ballerina on a music box. She was dressed in a drab traveling suit of taupe trimmed with deep blue braid. Her glorious auburn hair was parted in the middle and tucked into a severe bun at the back of her neck, but most of its lush texture was covered by a large dark blue bonnet. She wore no makeup, not even a dab of powder to cover the dusting of freckles on her cheeks. She had most definitely achieved the status of a mousy spinster—even before she'd added the octagonal spectacles that made her eyes look like a pair of spoiled eggs.

"Hmm. You may sit." Harvey turned his attention to Mac. "Everything seems to be in order except your request to house your daughter in the Golden Dove Hotel with you. That's a highly irregular request, sir, one that I'm not sure I should even consider. I have a reputation to uphold. I'll not have it tampered with."

"Meaning no disrespect," Mac explained, spinning his bowler hat in his lap, "but I have these terrible spells. If my girl's not close by, I fear one day I may not make it through a rough one. Surely you can understand that. If you'll let her stay in my suite with me, I guarantee on her dear departed mother's grave she'll be confined each evening to her room by... ah, by what time?"

"Ten-thirty sharp, sir. Eleven-thirty on weekends, though I'm not sure even that is really within proper bounds."

"Ten-thirty it is, Mr. Harvey, even on the weekends." Out of the corner of his eye, Mac could see Jewel stiffen, but he went on. "If you'll just give her a chance, I know you'll be pleased with her work and her attitude."

"Well..." Fred Harvey raked his gaze over Jewel one more time, then shrugged. "All right, Mr. MacMillan. I'll give her a try, but just once. Let her slip up one time, and—"

"It's done. I know the rules, and so does she." He rose and slipped his hand under Jewel's elbow. "Come, daughter. Let's not waste any more of Mr. Harvey's valuable time."

''I'll be delighted to see you to the door." Harvey slid out from behind his dark walnut desk and strolled over to the door. After ushering them into the reception area of the Santa Fe depot, he said by way of farewell, "It's been a pleasure to meet you both. Miss MacMillan, I'll see you at seven in the morning. Sharp."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Harvey," Jewel managed in her best innocent-little-girl voice. "My father and I will be eternally grateful for this opportunity."

Fred Harvey had closed the door to his office before the last syllable was out. As she turned to Mac to comment about the man's hasty dismissal, Jewel noticed an abrupt movement from one of the people reclining in the waiting room.

Turning her head toward the source, she was suddenly gripped by a sense of doom. Then her gaze connected with a pair of golden brown eyes. The owner of those eyes studied her over the top of a crumpled newspaper, his expression inquisitive.

The gambler!

Jewel's eyes darted back and forth as she looked for an avenue of escape.

The gambler's paper slid even lower as he continued to study her, cocking her head this way and that.

Jewel was unaccustomed to the glasses, which blurred her vision, and she had to hold out her arms to regain her balance. When she was able to see clearly again, she noticed a gleam of recognition in the gambler's eyes, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

A moment later the cocky man's grin had grown so huge it suggested his drawers were lined with ostrich plumes.

Chapter 3

Brent Connors grumbled to himself as he studied the editorial page of the
Topeka Herald.
The news in Kansas was as dull and dusty as the farming communities that dotted the flat countryside. Welcoming the distraction, he peeked over the top of the paper when he heard a woman's voice. Something—not the tone certainly, but the breathless quality mingled with the hint of a deeper intelligence—stirred his memory. Something also didn't fit. The profile she offered didn't match his expectations, and her manner was all wrong, almost subservient. Had he heard right? Had she really referred to the balding gnome at her side as her father?
Another
long lost father?

Brent mentally replaced the blue bonnet with a nest of blond curls, then tore open the bodice of her modest dress to expose her lush, full breasts, and that gave him the clear picture he needed. He straightened his spine and let the newspaper fall onto the marble table beside him. Grinning as those cool green eyes found his from across the room, he stood up and smoothed his waistcoat. The town of Topeka, Kansas, had brightened considerably. His stride deliberate, as confident as the man, he crossed the reception area.

Jewel watched in horror as the gambler approached. "Here comes trouble, Mac," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. But it was too late for further explanation. He was already upon them.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am," Brent said as he slid his fingers into the valley at the crown of his Stetson and tipped the hat. "But haven't we met before?"

Jewel didn't have to work to produce the twin blotches of color on her cheeks. Anger and frustration at being caught by this arrogant criminal again supplied more than enough blush to her skin. Looking suitably embarrassed and coy, she covered her mouth with her fingertips and turned to Mac. "The gentleman must be mistaken."

Mac's gravelly voice took on an indignant tone as he faced the stranger. "I am afraid you must have my daughter confused with someone else, sir. Now, if you'll excuse us..."He linked his hand through her elbow and turned as if to leave, but the gambler persisted.

"I apologize if I have made a mistake, but I am quite certain the lady and I have crossed paths. It's not often a man has the good fortune to gaze into a pair of emerald eyes as beautiful as hers." Again he tipped his hat. "They are truly unforgettable—as sharp and penetrating as a well-honed stiletto."

Jewel stifled a gasp and avoided his gaze. Trying to look offended, as if she had no idea what he was talking about, she pointed her nose to the ceiling and took a step toward the door.

Wavering, wondering if maybe he
had
somehow mistaken her for the hussy in Chicago, Brent blocked her path. "Please don't rush off. I mean no disrespect." She brushed against him as she tried to circle around him, and he caught her scent. Violets. Expensive violets. The very same tantalizing fragrance worn by the dance hall girl.

Convinced he'd seen through her masquerade, he pushed onward. "I'm almost certain we have something in common—perhaps a mutual acquaintance?"

"Sir," Mac cut in, "I believe my daughter has set you straight. She does not know you."

"Again begging your pardon, I believe it's possible her memory has failed her. I request your permission to jog it."

"I hardly think that will be worth your time or ours. If you'll excuse us—"

"It's all right, Father." Jewel regarded the gambler, wondering if it wouldn't be best to acknowledge him and get it over with. The last thing she and Mac needed was to have him following them around Topeka asking questions and making a general nuisance of himself. Besides, she didn't know enough about him, or about his occupation, to ignore him completely. She shrugged and patted Mac's arm. "He's starting to look a little familiar. Maybe we have met."

"I'd like to think I'm more memorable than that," Brent said with a chuckle. "I certainly had no trouble remembering you. In fact, those cool green eyes are almost as unforgettable as the cold dead eyes of a man you said was your father back in Chicago."

He paused dramatically, then went on, lapsing into his native southern twang. "Why, it truly boggles the mind just thinking about how many men it must have taken to sire a fine specimen like you, ma'am. How many fortunate gentlemen do you call Father—that is, if you don't mind my askin', ma'am?"

"Now see here," Mac said as he tried to step between them, but Jewel pressed a gloved hand against his chest.

"I'm sure he's only making a joke... Father. I believe it's possible that I have made his acquaintance." She glared at Brent, then turned back to Mac. "Would you give me a moment alone with the gentleman, please? I'd like a few words with him."

Glancing first at the stranger, Mac issued a silent warning, then addressed Jewel. "As you wish, daughter, but I won't be out of your view. I'll wait for you by the door. And do be quick about it."