An Unlikely Lady (11 page)

H
onesty hated that he could see through her so easily. She'd always been adept at hiding her emotions, so Jesse's ability to see more than she intended left her feeling vulnerable.

“Tell me what you really want.”

Did she dare?

Wisdom told her to forget this foolish, impulsive notion; it was too risky; he couldn't be trusted, there was too much at stake.

Desperation insisted that whether she liked it or not, Jesse was the best man for the job. He blended in well with his surroundings, could take on several roles, and all in all, he seemed relatively harmless. Not since that first night had he made any demands on her body or
expected more from her than she was willing to give. If anything, he boasted a protective streak that she found both irritating and comforting.

As she wandered about the room, trailing her fingers along the tabletops and filtering through her thoughts, Jesse's gaze followed her, unblinking, unwavering. His intense study made her feel warm all over and sort of . . . shy. Honesty almost laughed. Why, she didn't have a shy bone in her body! Her father used to say she'd been born under a brazen moon.

She cast a glance over her shoulder. Jesse hadn't moved from his spot near the door and he continued to watch her with wary contemplation. What did he think when he looked at her like that? Did he see the scared little girl she tried to hide? The bold and independent lady she wanted to become? Or did he see the woman she saw when she looked in the mirror—a lying, deceitful wench who would use anyone and anything in her hunt for the truth?

She turned to him and tried to gauge his thoughts. Dirt smeared his cheekbone, his hair had come loose from its ponytail, and strands flanked his jaw to brush the tops of his shoulders. Even his scuffed boots and rumpled, dusty clothes bore the proof of an afternoon spent outdoors—doing what, she hadn't a clue.

No, she
did
have an idea where he'd been and what he'd been doing; she just didn't want to
admit it. Jesse was a virile man, and if he couldn't get what virile men sought here at the Scarlet Rose, naturally he'd go elsewhere. Hadn't she all but told him to do just that?

But other than an unyielding quest for answers, she saw nothing in his eyes to give her any hint as to what went on in his mind.

“All right. I want you,” she blurted before she lost her courage.

His eyes widened; tawny brows shot up.

“Don't look so surprised. You're strong, you're healthy, and you're not completely intolerable to be with. You and I would make fine partners.”

He conceded the point with a slanted nod. “Except for one little detail—you hate my guts.”

It was Honesty's turn to regard him in surprise. “I don't hate you. I find you a bit overwhelming, and maybe a tad arrogant, but I don't
hate
you. As a matter of fact, I find you quite . . . fascinating.” She punctuated the compliment with a brilliant smile.

He shifted from one foot to another, men raked his fingers through his hair, pulling several more strands loose from his ponytail.

“Look . . . Honesty, I'm flattered, but . . .” He gave an awkward little laugh and shook his head. “I'm afraid the prices around here are a bit too rich for my blood.”

“But I would pay
you
.”

“Is that so? Forgive my confusion, but yesterday you couldn't stand to breathe the same air as me. Today you want me and
you're
willing to pay. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Put that way, she realized her behavior did seem somewhat erratic. She swallowed roughly and confessed, “Because you're my last hope.”

“Ahh, I see,” he said, though it was obvious that he didn't see at all. “I've heard some outrageous propositions before, but this one beats all. What makes you think I even want to go to bed with you?”

Honesty's mouth dropped open. “Go to—good cow feathers, who said anything about going to bed? I want you to help me, not have sex with me!” Although the idea wasn't all together distasteful. That night she'd spent with him was still so fresh in her mind that she could practically feel him on her skin.

Jesse's face paled, then flushed. A curse singed the air. “I don't need this.”

“Wait!” she cried, rushing toward him as he moved to leave. His voice had gone tight as a whipcord, and she realized that he thought she'd purposely misled him into thinking she was inviting him into her bed. “Just hear me out, will you?”

He folded his arms across his chest. He hardly looked interested, but at least he seemed willing to listen.

Battling a sudden attack of nerves, Honesty resisted the urge to wring her hands. “I want to hire you to help me find something.”

“And that would be . . . ?”

“First you must agree and swear loyalty to me.

A shake of his head sent a few more blond strands swinging across his shoulders. “No deal. I don't do anything without knowing what I'm letting myself in for.”

Honesty felt a trap of her own making closing in around her. Jesse didn't strike her as a man who would agree to travel untold miles looking for something even she couldn't define. What could she say?
Jesse, I need you to safeguard me while I canvass a thousand miles looking for God-knows-what, God-knows-where?
She needed to give him something tangible. Something that would appeal to his honor.

“I want you to help me find my family.” Honesty didn't know where the words came from; they just spilled out. But as she said them, she realized it was the perfect quest.

Unfortunately, Jesse wasn't so easily convinced.

“I thought your family was dead,” he said with narrow-eyed suspicion.

Honesty started in surprise. “Where did you hear that?”

“Rose mentioned it.”

Honesty licked her lips and averted her eyes. “It's true that both my parents are now gone. My mother died when I was too little to remember, and my father . . .” She swallowed heavily. “My father was killed a few months ago. But I have a brother.”
Yes, that's it.
“He's a traveling actor. He doesn't even know our father is gone. Surely you can understand how important it is that I find him.”

He seemed to mull over the information. “What's his name?”

“George,” she said without hesitation. “George Mallory.” Deuce had used the name once down in Texas; it would be easy to remember.

Jesse repeated the name under his breath. “George Mallory.” He frowned. “Where have I heard that name before . . . ?”

Pride in her quick-thinking immediately gave way to apprehension. “It's a common name. You could have it heard it anywhere!”

If he heard her, he gave no indication. The frown remained, even as Jesse gave his head a swift shake, as if to dislodge the name from his mind. “Do you even know where this brother of yours is?”

She paused for a heartbeat. “Uhm, not exactly. But I've got an inkling that he's headed for Galveston.”

“An inkling. You want me to give up God-
only-knows how many weeks of my time for an
inkling?”

Put that way, it did sound a bit eccentric, but, she was running out of choices as well as time. “You would be handsomely rewarded,” she added brightly.

“Oh, really?” he drawled. “With what?”

Good question. Men could usually be swayed by only two things. She doubted he'd be impressed with the measly twelve dollars stashed in her pillow slip, and she wasn't willing to give him the other. The only thing she had of value was the ring her father had given her.

She lifted her hand to her throat and freed the ruby from beneath her blouse. Tears stung her eyes. She'd sworn she'd keel over dead before giving up the only valuable thing she owned, but now, faced with the choice of keeping the bauble or uncovering the secret Deuce had taken to the grave, she felt there wasn't much of a choice to make.

With a decisive flick of her wrist, she wrenched the chain from her neck and dropped the ring onto the table between them.

Jesse stared at it for several long, stunned seconds before looking askance at Honesty. “What's this?”

“Your reward. It's well worth your time.”

Silence lay thick in the air as she waited for his decision, and she watched as his eyes went
from a hard green to a turbulent blue. The shift in color sent a jolt of alarm through her, for it came dangerously close to the shades seen only in her dreams.

Finally he relaxed his obdurate stance, but just when Honesty thought he would agree to take the job, he dashed her hopes.

“I don't think so, Honesty. Find another pigeon.”

“You're refusing? Just like that?”

He quirked one brow. “Never had anyone turn you down before?”

“Not with such haste.” Or such vigor!

“Look,” he sighed. “As much as I sympathize with your wanting to find your brother, you're barking up the wrong tree with me. I've already got a job.”

“Surely you don't mean here!”

“No, but now that you mention it, I do have a commitment to Rose. Then first thing Sunday morning, I'm kissing this town goodbye.”

“But that's when I would want—”

“Alone.”

And before Honesty could stop him again, he spun away and climbed the stairs.

She clenched her hands into fists. Why was he being so difficult? Her request was a simple one, yet he swatted it off as if she'd asked for the moon.

Fighting the temptation to go after him and
demand he reconsider, Honesty sat hard in an empty chair, slammed her arms in a fold across her breasts, and blew out an aggravated breath. So much for her spontaneity theory. Now she'd have to endure the rest of the week knowing he'd gotten the upper hand.

Just as suddenly, her mouth curved in a naughty grin. She still had three days. She was Honesty McGuire, and in the proud words of her father, she'd been born with the creativity of a thespian, the resilience of steel, and more tenacity than a pack of timber wolves. And if she'd learned anything during her time with Rose, it was that there were ways of bending a man to her will—even a man as inflexible as Jesse Jones.

Over the next three days, Jesse couldn't decide whether to choke the life out of Honesty or drag her upstairs and show her the danger of pushing a man too far. She catered to him as if he were the Prince Royal, serving him breakfast, drawing his bath, seeing that his clothes were kept freshly washed and pressed. She also teased him during rehearsals, praised his music, and laughed at his stupid jokes.

Though he knew that she was only pursuing him for her own benefit, he couldn't help but compare her lively, even seductive, efforts with Miranda's “helpless maiden” manipulation—
which he'd fallen for hook, line, and sinker, and barely lived to regret.

And against all wisdom and reason, the initial temptation to take Honesty up on her offer grew until he could hardly bear it. The thought of her all alone, searching for the last of her family . . . God knew, she'd not have an easy time going down that road.

But he already had enough on his plate.

He thought about demanding that she quit her nonsense, but two things stopped him: he hadn't been this pampered since childhood, and he wanted to see how far she was willing to go.

By Saturday, Rose's plans had become a reality. The saloon sparkled from top to bottom, thanks to Honesty; Rose had cajoled Jesse into cutting down a few trees to block the path of the stagecoach, so they'd be forced to take the detour; a sign the size of a barn wall had been painted by Rose and Sarah Wentworth; then Joe and Jake had hauled the monstrosity up to their mountaintop and planted it well. It read,
SWEETEST SONGBIRD IN THE WEST! PERFORMING SATURDAY, JUNE 12, SCARLT ROSE SALOON
, and could be seen for miles. If all went well, not only would the blocked road force passengers to the Scarlet Rose, but any traveler looking for a bit of entertainment would see the sign and make his way to Last Hope.

Joe and Jake came in early to stock the shelves
with liquor. They hadn't given him any trouble since the day they'd caught him near their claim, but they continued to keep a watchful eye on him, as if waiting for any excuse to thump his skull. Jesse'd had enough skull-thumping in the last week to last him a lifetime, and he avoided them as much as possible.

After helping Rose with last-minute arrangements that morning, Jesse slipped out back to check on his horse. Gemini pranced around the split rail paddock, head high, tail raised, almost parading his prowess to the sorry mule grazing nearby. Spotting Jesse, he cantered to the fence for his daily ration of oats.

Jesse scratched the shank of black hair between Gemini's eyes. “Itchin' to hit the trail, aren't you fella?”

Gemini whinnied and pawed the ground.

“Yeah, me, too.”

Jesse led him into the stall and hung a bucket of feed from the top rail. A quick examination of Gemini's leg put a satisfied smile on Jesse's face. Though the wound was still visible, the gash had closed to a healthy pink seam, and the swelling had receded after the first day.

Only one more day. Then he'd kick the dust of this two-bit town from his heels.

Prickles at the back of his neck warned him he was no longer alone. He turned slowly, and
the sight of Honesty hit him like a blow to the sternum.

She stood in a beam of sunlight, wearing a frothy pink gown that fit her like a dream. The silk fabric was drawn tight around her figure, emphasizing the length of her legs, the flare of her hips, the fullness of her breasts. A draping of fabric hemmed in white lace fit snug around her stomach. A sash sewn with baby roses crossed from right shoulder to left hip, while the other shoulder had been left bare, revealing flawless peaches-and-cream skin.

“Do you like it?” She whirled in a circle.

Jesse's mouth went dry. His gaze traveled up her slender neck, past lush, pouty lips, to the snub of her nose and the rich coffee brown of her eyes. She'd piled her hair atop her head, and a wreath of silk roses sat upon the mass of loose amber ringlets at her crown. A fire kindled in Jesse's veins and sent the blood rushing to his groin.