Katie Rose (18 page)

Before Emily could do more than utter a flabbergasted squeak, he continued in the same rough tone.

“Furthermore, even though you don’t trust me now, you are going to learn to. You might as well get used to me, sweetheart, because I’m about to become your Watson.”

Emily struggled to find her voice as Thomas’s words penetrated. “You mean—”

“Yes,” Thomas said firmly. “I am officially your partner. That means there isn’t a clue you uncover, a witness that you question, that I won’t know about. Don’t even bother to look over your shoulder, because I’ll be there.”

He meant it. He planned to stay on her, day in and day out, sticking his nose into her investigation, following her like a shadow. And at the first sign she’d slipped up, he would take preventative action.

Every ounce of independent will within her rose up in protest. Even her mother had capitulated when she’d realized Emily would not be deterred from detecting. And now this “preacher” with the faulty disguise thought he could stop her?

But she
had
been in danger. The housekeeper’s
death reminded her that whoever she was chasing was getting desperate—desperate enough to kill again. Thomas was certainly capable of defending himself. The saloon incident had shown her that. In truth, he had already rescued her more than once.

So she did need help. And he was offering it—forcibly, but offering it all the same. She squinted at him as she took his measure. He could be her brawn, while she was the brains. And she would be able to keep an eye on him and whatever he was up to that much easier.

But what about his other words? She swallowed hard. He wanted her and meant to have her. Dimly she realized she had only herself to blame for this situation, for she certainly hadn’t tried very hard to discourage him. In fact, she had welcomed his kisses and caresses, and let him know it.

And now he thought he could order her into bed with him. Emily opened her mouth to put him in his place, when a voice sounded clearly in her ear.

“You get more flies with sugar than with vinegar, honey! If you want your way with a man, sweet-talk him!”

“What!” Emily sputtered, shocked to hear Rosie’s gleeful suggestion. Thomas looked sharply at her, and Emily realized she had spoken out loud. Thank heavens, he seemed not to have heard Rosie. But maybe the ghost had a point. Emily decided it couldn’t hurt to try.

“You’re right, Thomas.” She managed to keep her tone low and soft. “I should have realized it before. This investigation is dangerous. I’m not leaving,
though. I want to stay here and make a living. Perhaps I’ll just leave the detecting to the sheriff.”

Her glance flickered upward to hide the lie she was sure showed in her eyes and to her amazement, she saw Thomas sigh with relief. “I’m glad you’ve finally seen reason. I apologize for threatening you, but I feel that strongly about this.”

“I understand. Thomas, I want you to know that I really do appreciate your concern.…” Emily broke off, listening to the whisper again.

“Nice touch. Now ask him to supper.”

“Supper!” Emily spat, then quickly regrouped as Thomas faced her in surprise. “I mean … I was going to prepare supper for myself. Would you care to join me?”

“I’d be obliged. I spent all day riding, and frankly, I could use a good meal. Thank you, Emily.”

“That’s it, sweetie, you got him now!” Rosie hooted in her ear and Emily got up quickly, afraid Thomas would see the grin plastered on her face.

“I’ll go get it started.” Schooling her features once more, she gave him a smile that he returned. A brief shudder went though her as she realized that even dusty and unshaven, he was, in Rosie’s words, a hell of a man.

But now she was stuck with him. Marching into the kitchen, she whispered to her invisible matchmaker while putting the potatoes on to boil.

“What did you make me do that for? We were getting along just fine. He could have gone home.”

“You were doing a real good job of bringing him
around, but you needed more,” Rosie explained. “If you’re going to work with him, you really have to make him think of you as a friend, not the competition. No man likes a woman who beats him.”

“That’s too bad,” Emily said indignantly, bringing out a roast. “At least he said he was Watson! He’s no Holmes, that’s for sure.”

The feline namesake of the man in question rubbed against her leg. Rosie chuckled while Emily set out two plates and put some beans on to cook, but she couldn’t keep quiet when Emily started placing the dinnerware on the well-scrubbed table.

“You don’t mean to eat in here?” Rosie demanded.

Emily nodded. “Yes, I do. Your parlor seems to set him on edge, and I don’t want to tempt fate. I think these humble quarters will be much better.” Emily didn’t want to add that the erotic feeling of the parlor only enhanced her attraction to Thomas, making her own resolve weaken.

“At least fetch a bottle of wine,” Rosie protested. “There should be some in the cellar, if that houseboy didn’t take it all.”

Grumbling, Emily plodded to the basement and picked the dustiest bottle out of the wine rack.

Back in the kitchen, Rosie insisted on candles. When Emily said a firm no, a pair of candlesticks floated in from the parlor. They settled down on the table with a soft hush.

“Rosie!” Emily cried.

“Did you say something?” Thomas asked from the parlor.

“Just that the roast is almost ready,” Emily improvised, closing the door so he wouldn’t see the ghost’s hijinks.

“Don’t be such a worrywart,” Rosie said indignantly. “Now we just need to tend to you. I think my silver wrapper would look wonderful with your hair and eyes. Don’t you think so, honey? And do your hair up again. Thomas loved it last time you wore it that way!”

Emily didn’t know where to direct her frustrated glare. “I’m not setting out to seduce him!” she growled at the empty room.

“It’s always easier to deal with a man from your strengths,” Rosie said, enunciating each word slowly, as if speaking to a child. “If you are going to be partners with this man, you have to gain the upper hand. It never hurts to look your best. Trust me, I know.”

Emily couldn’t argue with that. Rosie had been a legend among men. Her name was always spoken respectfully in male company, with a little awe thrown in. Resentfully, Emily raced up the back stairs and tossed aside her simple dress. The bordello ghost nodded from the mirror, giving out instructions as Emily changed.

“That’s right. Oooh, that’s gorgeous. And I have earrings to match. Look in the top drawer, there’s a pair of crystals. Now some perfume …”

Feeling utterly foolish, Emily obeyed the ghost. Dabbing the perfume behind her ears, she boldly added another drop between her breasts. Who knows? Emily mused. Maybe she
was
going about
this all wrong. Maybe by treating Thomas as an equal, she’d given up the most effective weapons she possessed. She’d soon find out.

Giving her hair a final pat, she raced back down the steps to find the potatoes nearly boiling over. She dished out the meal, pausing to catch her breath before she called to Thomas.

“Dinner’s ready!”

He appeared instantly. When he walked into the kitchen, Emily experienced a moment of sheer, feminine pleasure. His gaze swung quickly from the enticing meal to her and stayed there. Thomas’s jaw dropped, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“Emily. You didn’t have to … I mean, you look wonderful.”

She dipped her head, hiding a blush, but couldn’t deny the thrill that went up her spine. “I just thought I’d change into something more comfortable. We are going to be friends now, Thomas, aren’t we?”

He nodded, taking the seat she pulled out for him. His gaze was fastened on the low neckline of her wrapper. “Yes. Friends. That’s what we’ll be.”

“Good. I’m so glad that you came by tonight, Thomas. We got off on the wrong foot, and you showed me the error of my ways. I am obliged to you.”

A glimmer of suspicion sparkled in his eyes then, and she heard Rosie whisper, “Don’t lay it on too thick. The man’s not stupid. Give him the wine.”

Realizing her blunder, Emily quickly filled Thomas’s glass. He took it from her, their fingers touching, the sparks positively jumping between them.

“This is delicious,” he said between forkfuls of food. Drinking deeply of the wine, he savored it as a gentleman would.

“You seem to know good wine,” Emily remarked. If only she could be sure what he was up to! Her gaze swept over him, and she noted to her keen frustration that there was very little she could deduce about him. His cuffs told her nothing; his boots, only that he’d ridden hard. His eyes, that peculiar shade of blue, gleamed with intelligence. His chin was firm and unshaven, his hands dexterous and capable. Her eyes traveled back to his collar. Perhaps if his guard were down he would mention something about his past, or who he really was.

“Yes, it was a regular part of our menu where I grew up.”

“Virginia?” Emily hazarded a guess. He nodded, and she continued to pick at her food. “I suppose you lived in one of those beautiful manor houses in town. Richmond?”

“Why, Miss Potter, are you investigating me?” His voice sounded teasing, but Emily recognized the warning note.

She looked directly at him. “Do I need to, Thomas?”

Silence hung between them for several seconds before Thomas resumed his meal. “No. You have nothing to fear from me. I’ve told you that before. I know you don’t trust me now, and maybe for good reason. But you will.”

Emily felt some relief at his words, but a nagging feeling of doubt lingered. Thomas held his glass up
to the light, turning his attention back to the wine in an effort to change the subject. “Was this left in the house?”

“Yes. Apparently the vandals weren’t too interested in the wine cellar when they tore the place apart.”

“No, they wanted the money.” Thomas’s gaze met hers. “Have you found any trace of it yet?”

“No,” Emily told him, shaking her head. “That’s why I need to start the shop. I do think I’ll take your advice and tone down the parlor. It is a little much.”

“I’ll say,” Thomas agreed, his voice thickening with some emotion—or was it the wine? Emily’s thoughts went back to the seductive room, and she knew he was having the same trouble getting those images out of his head. Everything about this house was sexual—the graceful lines of the rooms, the erotic paintings, even the swish of her wrapper, the feel of silk on flushed skin.…

“Could I have another glass?” Thomas pushed his goblet toward her. Emily refilled the glass, hiding her satisfaction. It pleased her to know that Thomas wasn’t as fully in control as he liked to pretend. She placed the glass before him, smiling as he downed it in one gulp, like whiskey.

“That was wonderful. Really, the best meal I’ve had in ages. I should be going, though. Tomorrow is the Sabbath.”

“Are you holding services, then?” Emily was genuinely curious. To her knowledge, the Reverend Hall had done very little ministering since his arrival.

His eyes twinkled as if he knew exactly what she
was thinking. “Not yet. I’m meeting with some of the local ministry, to see if my help is needed,” he explained. “Denver is an unholy city, from what I’ve observed.”

He was out of the chair and headed for the door when Rosie’s voice entered her head once more.

“Invite him for brandy in the parlor!” the ghost shouted in her ear. Emily tried to ignore her, but to her consternation, two crystal glasses floated across the room, followed by a bottle. Taking Thomas by the shoulders, she turned him quickly toward the fireplace until the brandy had landed safely on one of the polished wood tables.

“Emily?” Thomas asked in surprise.

“You can’t go yet!” she said, frustrated by Rosie’s tricks. “I just thought … we’d have a brandy and light the fire.”

She let her hands slide down his shoulders, then self-consciously dropped them to her sides. Thomas looked into her eyes as if he thought he could understand what she was doing by gazing into their depths. No such luck.

Pure innocence radiated from her, and he nodded once in reluctant agreement.

“One drink. I’m really tired, and have to be getting back—”

Emily poured the brandy and put it beside him, not trusting herself to touch his hand again. The chemistry between them threatened to ignite at the slightest provocation, and she turned deliberately away from him to light the fire.

Darrel had stacked the wood earlier, making it
fairly easy to get the tinder going. Yet when she bent forward, she could have sworn she heard a groan. She turned quickly to see what she could only describe as a look of pain on Thomas’s face.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he croaked, tugging at his collar. Emily nodded in confusion, getting up to place a roll in the player piano. The music tinkled, the fire crackled, and the brandy was wonderful. Emily took a seat beside him again, and gave him a warm smile.

“That’s it, honey. A little closer. Good girl!” Rosie whispered encouragingly.

“Emily.” Thomas seemed to be struggling with something, then totally gave up. He reached over and took the glass from her hand, setting it aside. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless.