Charlene Sands (17 page)

Mr. Robard walked over to stand beside him. “She’s everything you said she was. I am very pleased.”

“Yeah. She doesn’t disappoint.”

A wave of irritation struck him. Emmy could become a huge attraction. She had unequaled talent, but Bodine couldn’t envision her in that role. He had trouble figuring her as a wife to a local Fresno man or as the world’s latest singing sensation.

The audience quieted and Bodine watched as Emmy stood bravely up on that stage, ready to attain her dream.

Emma fought her nerves. With an encouraging look from Bodine, the man she loved who had unwittingly become her friend, she knew a moment of accomplishment and thrill. When the curtain lifted, she stood bravely onstage looking out at the elegant chandelier-ensconced theater. The one-hundred-thirty-strong audience seated in plush upholstered seats suddenly quieted.

She could scarcely believe men and women had dressed in their finery for the occasion. They’d actually purchased tickets to see her sing! Mr. Robard, a quietly dignified man with silver-gray hair, had offered her fair compensation, but in truth she would have given this performance for free just to realize the excitement of being up on this stage. He’d also given her a few hints as to how to use the full capacity of the stage, teaching her how to engage the entire audience and Emma had taken heed.

Heart pounding, legs wobbly, Emma waited for the musicians to play. Right on cue she began to sing her first song, a touching melody reminding her of her bond with Bodine, called “Friends and Nothing More.”

When she sang the last note of the song, a sweeping round of applause broke out. Emma gazed into the approving faces of the spectators and her whole body relaxed. From then on the songs poured out, one after another without fear or hesitation. For her wistful ballads, she stayed in center stage, but for the more entertaining song “Jeff in Petticoats,” Emma swept back and forth along the entire length of the stage, the lyrics too amusing to remain still. With her encouragement, the whole audience began singing along.

And they broke out in merry laughter when Emma sang the ending chorus,

Twelve songs and more than an hour later, Emma took her final bows. Mr. Robard came onto the stage to applaud along with the audience, inviting them back for tomorrow night’s performance. Graciously, Emma thanked the spectators for their generous welcome. When she glanced over, she found comfort seeing Bodine right where he’d been before, watching her.

Joyous, she smiled at him, but her attention shifted when Mr. Robard led her down the steps to meet with the audience still in attendance. This was what she had hoped. Someone within this swarm of people might know of her father’s whereabouts. She posed the question to one small group after another. And when a handsome young man stepped forward, claiming to have heard of Jake Trundy, Emma excused herself from the gathering to give him her full attention.

The soft-spoken Spaniard who called himself Mr. Vasquez, said, “I will tell you all that I know, but first I must compliment your performance. I have been intrigued ever since you first appeared onstage.”

Emma’s cheeks grew warm. “Thank you.”

“Miss Marie, you sing like a beautiful bird. You are light and carefree one moment and we are happy, but when you sing your ballads of love you make us all believe you are a woman who has known heartache in her life.”

The compliment warmed her. No one had ever put it in such a charming way. Emma looked at the striking man with interest. “I thank you again. But I’d truly like to know how you have heard of Jake Trundy?”

“Let me escort you home and I will tell you,” he said, standing at attention with hope evident in his dark-fringed eyes.

Emma couldn’t deny he had good manners and grooming, but she hesitated, biting her lip. She glanced around, looking for Bodine. He was nowhere in sight. The theater patrons had departed through the front lobby and the musicians were gathering up their instruments. Only Mr. Robard was visible backstage and he’d given her a polite nod of farewell. She turned to Mr. Vasquez. “I’m staying at the Hillside Hotel.”

He smiled. “Only a short walk. Shall we?”

He gestured for her to lead the way. Emma took one more look around before walking out the back door.

Once outside, the Spaniard strolled leisurely close by her side as she waited impatiently for his explanation. “Mr. Vasquez, please—”

“I’d be honored if you called me Matteo.”

“Matteo,” she said, noting the pleasure on his handsome face when she used his given name, “I’ve come a long way for answers.”

“Then I won’t keep you waiting another minute. My father Luis Vasquez knew Jake Trundy well. He worked on our ranch. I was just a boy but I remember him.”

Emma’s heart leaped. “How long did he work at your ranch?”

“Long enough to teach a young boy how to tie a slipknot, how to carve a figure from a block of wood, and how to make a wild horse your friend.”

Those were the first encouraging words she’d heard about her father. The image of him teaching young Matteo the way a father would teach a son touched her deep inside. Emma gazed into his eyes, “Oh Matteo, this is very good news.”

They had reached the front of the hotel. When she turned to face him, cooling winter breezes brought her shivers. Matteo stood close to block the wind. “Why is that, Miss Marie?”

“It’s Emma,” she said kindly.

His dark eyes glimmered. “Emma,” he said, wearing a charming smile now. “Why do you search for this man?”

“He’s my father. I…I never knew him.”

Matteo closed his eyes briefly. When he reopened them, Emma’s heart sank from the solemn look he cast her. He took both of her hands in his. “Then, Emma, you are the daughter of a thief.”

“I know,” she breathed. “Did he steal from your family?”

Matteo nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Many years ago, he took the payroll meant for our vaqueros.”

“And do you know what happened to him?”

Matteo shook his head. “My father sent men after him, but he was never found.”

“He was imprisoned for his crimes. I…have letters he sent to my mother. But we don’t know what ever became of him. So, you don’t know, either?”

“I’m afraid not, Emma.”

Emma couldn’t hide her disappointment. She lowered her head a moment.

“I wish I could be of more help.”

“Where is your ranch?” she asked, lifting her eyes to his, refusing to give up completely. “Maybe someone else knows what happened to him?”

“Emma, our rancho is at the base of Los Toros Mountain, more than one hundred miles from here. I am only in Tucker Hill on business. I must leave tomorrow. But I am sure no one knows of him. It was a long time ago.”

Emma nodded and tears welled in her eyes. “Yes, it was.”

“I am sorry, Emma,” he said, bringing her close and wrapping her into an embrace. His comforting arms warmed her, making her feel slightly better.

He whispered, “Your father taught me one other thing.”

“What was that?”

“How to steal a kiss from a girl you desire.”

Emma looked up into deep, passionate eyes. “My father didn’t teach you that.”

Matteo grinned. “No, this I know how to do on my own.”

He lowered his mouth, but Emma didn’t have time to react on her own. Bodine strode out of the shadows, startling her. He put a hand on Matteo’s chest, separating their embrace with physical force and a voice filled with dire warning. “Hands off,
señor.
”

“B
odine!” Emma beseeched him with a plea. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He barely spared her a glance, his eyes locked onto the Spaniard’s. “Maybe you should ask him what he thinks he’s doing? Playing on your desperation.”

Anger glittered in Matteo’s eyes. “Get your hand off me,” he said, but he didn’t wait for Bodine to obey his command. He stepped back. Not in fear, she thought, but to assess Bodine’s strength, the two men stalking each other like animals seeking out their prey. “Emma, who is this man?”

“Nobody, Matteo. I’m sorry for this.”

Bodine whipped around to glare at her. “Don’t apologize to him.”

Her patience nearing its end, Emma shot back quickly, “I’ll apologize to whomever I want! You have no right coming here, interrupting our conversation.”

“Damn you, Emma! You’re being a fool.”

“Do not speak to the lady like that.” Matteo stood firm, completely unafraid. “Perhaps it is you who are the fool!”

Bodine set his expression, his eyes cold. Emma witnessed the angry tic working his jaw and knew he wouldn’t back down. He’d be only too happy to pummel Matteo into the ground, though he wouldn’t go down easy. Matteo had the same stubborn set to his jaw, his honor being sorely tested.

“Nobody calls me a fool.” Bodine spoke through tight lips.

“I think I just did,
señor.
” They locked stares.

Fearful they would certainly come to blows, Emma rushed between them. She faced Bodine, jamming her hand to his chest. “Stop!”

“Go inside, Emmy.”

“No, Bodine. I will
not
go inside.”

She whipped around to face the Spaniard now. “I think we should say good-night, Matteo.”

He glanced at her, his eyes dark with indecision. “Who is he to you? Can he be trusted?”

Bodine snorted and stepped toward him. “Can
I
be trusted? You had your hands all over her, and you’re asking about my—”

Emma hurriedly explained to Matteo, “He’s helping me find my father. I don’t like him at the moment, but yes, I do trust him.”

Bodine relaxed some upon hearing her admission. But he kept his attention on Matteo Vasquez. “You heard the lady,” he said. “She’s saying good-night.”

Holding back her ire, she spoke through clenched teeth. “I can speak for myself, Bodine.”

Matteo’s eyes softened just a bit when he looked at her. “Perhaps it is better that I leave you now. It was a pleasure to meet you, Emma. I am only sorry our evening was cut short.”

Matteo sent Bodine a glare that seemed to offer a challenge,
anywhere, anytime.
Clearly, Bodine didn’t intimidate him. That in itself was quite admirable, or foolhardy? Emma couldn’t decide which notion held more truth.

“Yes, I am, too,” she said, wishing she had more time to quiz him about her father. “If you remember anything else, please contact me. I’ll be here several more days.”

“I promise,” he said. “Good night, Señorita Songbird.” He smiled quickly, ignoring Bodine entirely and lifted her hand to place a kiss there.

When he walked off, Emma let out a relieved sigh. She turned on her heels and marched into the hotel and up the stairs, justifying her fury at Bodine with every step she took.

She was so darn angry with him she could hardly take a full breath. His determined boot steps from behind as he followed her up the stairs only added to her agitation. Heart racing and furious at him for insinuating himself into her life, she opened her door and turned to face him. “Go straight to hell, Bodine!”

“Calm down, Emmy!”

“I will not calm down. You ruined the best night of my life!”

“Me? How did I do that?” His voice was elevated, and Emma glanced around the dimly lit hallway. An older couple she recognized from her performance tonight climbed the stairs, heading toward their room, no doubt.

Emma shut her eyes for a second, refusing to make a spectacle of herself at the threshold of her room. She lowered her voice. “Leave me alone, Bodine.”

“Not until we have this out,” he said, none too pleasantly. When he noticed the man and woman walking toward them engaged in pleasant conversation, he took hold of Emma’s arm and tugged her into the room, latching the door closed.

Exasperated, she turned to face him. “Have what out? You ruined my evening and I’ll never forgive you for that.”

Emma folded her arms and glared at him.

“I don’t care.”

“Ha! That’s what you say. You’re forever telling me you don’t care, but then you do something that proves that maybe you do. You’re making me crazy, Bodine!” She tossed her shawl onto the bed.

“Yeah, well…I can say the same about you.”

“You were jealous, Bodine.”

“Of him?” Bodine laughed without an iota of mirth. He tossed his hat onto the bed. It landed right on top of her wrap, looking too much like the two belonged together, in the middle of the rose-patterned quilt.

Emma’s shoulders sagged. She clung to her anger though it exhausted her. “You have no rights when it comes to me.”

“You want a man like that to take advantage of you?”

Bodine’s sharp tone rekindled her ire. Emma shouldn’t have to explain her actions to him. He had no claim on her. She wouldn’t let him bully her. “He knew of my father. He was kind and charming. He wasn’t taking advantage of me.”

“Kind and charming?” Bodine snorted in disgust. “He could have told you all he knew back at the theater.”

Emma gasped. “You were eavesdropping!”

“Yep.”

“And you followed us?”

“Damn right, I did.”

Bemused, Emma whirled around and walked to the window, where parted draperies allowed the moonlight to filter in softly. “I think you should leave.”

Bodine came to stand behind her. “I’ll go in a minute,” he said, his breath nuzzling her neck. He began the nightly ritual of undoing her buttons.

Bodine pushed her hair out of the way, his fingers weaving through the tresses to set them onto one side. His palm lingered on her shoulders, stroking her gently, and Emma held her breath. All the times before, Bodine had made fast work of the buttons, but tonight her heart raced from the soft caress, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

He unfastened the top button, then the next. “Do you know what it’s like for me, doing up your buttons then undressing you every night?”

Emma swallowed, fearing her voice had vanished. She shook her head.

Bodine undid the next two buttons. “It’s torture, Emmy.” He placed his hands inside now, touching her exposed skin. “You’re so soft,” he whispered. His fingers skimmed along her back and Emma’s throat went cotton dry. Hope settled in her heart and she feared it, more than any stage performance or any distressing news about her father. She feared her love for Bodine.

He unfastened the rest of the buttons in silence and brought his lips to her shoulders. “The thought of another man touching you…” he said, leaving the sentence unfinished but relaying his message in the gentle kisses he planted there.

He had been jealous! Emma had hoped that he would care for her, but his outright jealousy only confused her. She went over in her mind all the declarations he’d made to her, all the reasons they couldn’t be together. Perplexed and lacking faith now, she pleaded, “Bodine, what do you want from me?”

He wrapped his arms around her middle, tucking her into his body’s warmth. She went willingly, flowing into his embrace as he struggled with his next words. “I want what I can’t have. You.”

Emma rejoiced in those honest words. She’d waited for such a long time, hoping to hear him admit that he wanted her. She couldn’t deny the satisfaction she felt and the joy that coursed through her. She turned in his arms, releasing the material she clutched in her hand, letting her gown fall into a puddle by her feet. She stood in a gossamer chemise and petticoats, ready to shed them all for one night with him.

“You can have me, Bodine.”

Emmy’s sweet melodic voice tempted his remaining willpower. He bent his head and brushed his lips to hers, relishing her willing surrender, her unique intoxicating taste and the lithe, supple body she offered him. He set aside all of his misgivings when Emmy returned his kiss, her hunger too strong to fight.

Bodine stroked her shoulders and her back, his hands caressing every inch he could reach, while the kiss went deeper. Their tongues stroked each other with reckless passion, openmouthed now, frenzied and desperate.

He had little trouble pushing down her chemise. Emmy wiggled out of it without qualm, and Bodine planted kisses upon the slender line of her throat. He worked his lips further down her chest, his hands eager to hold her small, plump, perfect breasts.

He cupped her then, filling his hands with her, weighing the ripe globes while his desire grew steadily.

Voices in his head pleaded with him to stop.

Eloisa Rourke’s sharp demands.

Josh’s dying words.

But Emmy’s unbridled passion and soft moans of pleasure obliterated those voices instantly.

Bodine flicked the tips of her breasts with his thumb, the pebbly hard peaks growing even harder. Emma sighed, her breaths labored, her body hot and pliant.

“Oh, Emmy,” he said, taking all of her passion, “you’re so perfect.”

She chuckled through their kisses. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.” Then she reached up to weave her fingers in his hair, pulling the strands taut, driving his need even further.

He lifted her up, petticoats and all and set her onto the bed. Standing over her, he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it, watching her eyes glitter wildly. Encased in a fluff of white ruffles, her hair spread out on the quilts, she reached up for him.

Bodine came down upon her carefully, mindful of his weight, his full erection grinding into her body.

“It’s okay, Bodine,” she whispered. “I can bear your weight.”

Bodine smiled. “Can you now?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and he felt her joy in those words. “A woman can always hold the weight of the man she loves.”

Bodine froze.

He blinked.

Once again, Emmy had caught him off guard.

Bodine searched his mind for a witty reply, something he could give her in return. She stared at him, watching carefully.

“You can’t love me,” he said quietly.

“I do.”

“Hell, I didn’t think you liked me much.”

“I don’t…at times. But I’ve fallen in love with you, Bodine.”

Bodine had sensed it. He’d seen something powerful in her eyes when she looked at him, and he’d heard strong emotion in her voice when she sang to him at night. But he never wanted to put a name on it. He never wanted to admit it was love.

She couldn’t love him.

He wasn’t free to return the emotion.

Her grandmother’s demands became clearer in his mind now. And the promise he’d made to Josh couldn’t be ignored.

Bodine sat up on the bed, running his hands through his hair.

Emmy sat up beside him. “What is it?” she asked with trepidation in her voice.

“This is wrong.”

Silence.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Silence again.

“You know the situation, Emmy.”

“Yes,” she said faintly, with anguish in the breath of her whisper. “You don’t love me. You only wanted to use me. Funny, how you thought Matteo was out to take advantage of me, when it was you all along.”

“That fool wasn’t fit to—” Bodine rose from the bed. “Never mind. I’d never use you that way and you know it.” He put his shirt back on and began buttoning hastily.

Regret and pain entered her beautiful soulful eyes. “Do I?”

“You know me,” Bodine declared, attempting to convince her, although in some regard she was right. He’d been lying to her since the day they’d met. But she wasn’t correct in assuming he was using her. She had touched him in ways no other woman had. She was unique, an extraordinary flower that was beautiful in its rarity.

“I don’t think I do, Bodine.”

Emmy spoke clearly, her voice steady and even. Bodine didn’t like it. Hell, none of this should have happened. He was being paid to keep her safe and not cause her harm. He couldn’t allow her love. But he would continue to protect her.

Tonight, while she questioned her audience after the show, he had gotten a clue about Metcalf’s sister from a stagehand working the curtains. The man claimed to know her and she was a decent woman, but her brother had brought her nothing but heartache.

Bodine had guessed she lived somewhere in this area, but the man had given him directions to her remote homestead at the base of Tucker Hill, twenty miles to the north. The woman didn’t come into town often and it was rumored that Metcalf was staying with her.

This was the first solid piece of information he’d gotten. His gut told him he was on the right track now, but he couldn’t do much about it until he dealt with Emmy. He couldn’t bring her along, in case there was trouble, but he couldn’t very well leave her on her own. No telling what she might do.