Katie Rose (30 page)

Thomas looked at her strangely.

“Is that what you really think? That I don’t want you anymore?”

“What else am I to think?” Emily shrugged as if it didn’t matter, though her eyes stung suspiciously. “You certainly have reason to dislike me. Especially with what you believe about my father.”

Thomas shook his head, then looked down at the bathwater. His voice was filled with amused frustration as he held up a wrinkled hand.

“Emily, we need to talk about this, but I need to get out of this water before I look like a prune.”

“Thomas, I’m sorry! Why didn’t you say something? Please, come out of there. Don’t mind me,” Emily said, flustered, suddenly aware that the water had stopped steaming and goose bumps had appeared on Thomas’s arms.

Thomas raised a brow. “Most ladies would be a little shocked if I simply strode out of the tub, with no care for their feminine sensibilities. However, if that doesn’t concern you at all …”

He started to rise and Emily gasped, overwhelmed by the sight of him, dripping and magnificent, his muscular body emanating sensuality. She raced for the towel, ignoring his chuckle as she handed it to him, a blush heating her cheeks. Thomas wrapped the towel around his hips, then came to stand directly in front of her. Lifting her chin upward, he gazed into her eyes.

“My God, I can’t believe you’d think so little of me. I guess I’ll just have to show you.…” Heedless of his wet body, Thomas pulled her into his arms. Emily’s mouth parted with a gasp, but before she could say a word, he kissed her thoroughly. Her struggles dissipated almost immediately, warmed by the hot, wet feel of him against her, the smoky, whiskey taste of his mouth, and the erotic pleasure that began to wend its way through her flesh.

When he finally eased his mouth from her, he gazed into her face, his expression soft. “Does that feel like someone who doesn’t want you?”

Emily shook her head. All thoughts of desertion left her as he communicated his feelings in a way
that was timeless. The pain left her, replaced by a wonder and joy that was so intense, she wanted to cry out. Instead, she reached up and wrapped her fingers around his neck, wanting every delightful sensation he offered.

Smiling, he lowered his head to her once more. This time, he deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting through her teeth, making her moan. Emily arched against him, her body pressed tightly to his, her skin burning through the layers of clothing she wore. She gasped as Thomas lifted her and carried her to the bed. Lying there, she propped herself up on one elbow and felt his hand caressing the silky flesh of her thighs, then the opening in her drawers.

“Thomas! My word …”

“I know, sweet. I didn’t plan on this either, but if you come sneaking into a man’s room at night, you’d better expect something like this. Come, Emily. Open your legs for me. Oh, my God, Emily, you are so hot and sweet.…”

Emily gasped, feeling his fingers rub expertly between the folds of her flesh, then enter into the hot moistness between them. Writhing, she was helpless against the sensations that spiraled through her, her body arching, wordlessly crying out for more. Thomas withdrew the finger, slid it upward, then gently massaged the most sensitive part of her until Emily cried out, reaching a shuddering climax almost immediately.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Wait, I’ll undo your clothes.”

“No, now!” Emily wriggled restlessly beneath him. She heard his chuckle, then he tossed the towel aside and came to her.

“Whatever pleases the lady,” he murmured, then entered her swiftly.

Emily sighed, her body filled with his hardness. It was even better than before, more urgent and complete. It took her only a few strokes to reach her climax once again. The intensity of her response seemed to excite him even more, for he thrust deeply into her, his body pulsating. After a moment she felt him relax and he wrapped her in his arms as if he could not seem to bring her close enough. Then he lifted his head and smiled down at her. “Emily, promise me you won’t ever become a maid. I don’t think I could handle the thought of you servicing men’s baths this way.”

Emily giggled, but his words warmed her strangely. She cuddled closer to him, not caring that her corset cut into her, nor that she was still clothed. She felt wonderful, cared for, and protected.

“I did mean what I said earlier, though. I want you to consider the hotel. If not, then I want that door locked at all times. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Emily smiled, but Thomas didn’t share her mirth.

“I’m not teasing, Emily. I’m serious. This whole thing is closing in on us—I can feel it.”

“All right, Thomas, I’ll think about what you said.” Rising from the bed, she glanced out the window. “I guess I’d better get going. Thanks to you
and Eleanor Hamill, I may actually have some customers tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“Thomas, you don’t—” Emily stopped herself. “All right, I’d like that.”

“And I’m checking the house before I leave.”

Emily smiled, watching as he pulled on his trousers. He really was, as Rosie would say, a hell of a man. For however long this lasted, she would enjoy it.

“Sorry, boss, we couldn’t find hide nor hair of that damned housekeeper. My men rode all through Silverton. Bertie Evans is gone.”

When he finished speaking Emmet sipped the excellent whiskey at his elbow, waiting for the explosion that would surely come. He was seated in the private Pullman car of the Union Pacific, and he couldn’t help but admire the thick velvet draperies, polished wood tables, opulent gold trim, and comfortable tufted chairs. As a traveling office, it offered many advantages—luxury, servants, and transportation. For the criminal element, it offered even more, for a moving target was extremely difficult to track. Unfortunately, the wealthy occupants, legitimate or otherwise, had to rely on the outside world for information, and that didn’t always sit well.

Emmet expected that this time, it wouldn’t sit well at all. The boss didn’t like disappointments, and disliked failure even more. Emmet was smart enough to know that this job was in jeopardy, and it was too lucrative to let go without a fight. They had been promised a nice cut of the big money when it was found. What the boss didn’t know was that Emmet planned to make 100 percent of the profits. This was a hell of a lot easier than robbing trains, Emmet thought. And he’d be damned if he’d let it slip away.

After getting the negative reports from Silverton, he’d gone back to confront the postal clerk, only to discover that the man had vanished. Even more disconcerting, his replacement, who at the show of Emmet’s gun produced a forwarding address in Greeley, could tell him nothing else. Greeley yielded the same results as Silverton, and the inescapable conclusion: Bertie had been warned off.

After a long silence the boss spoke coldly. “I didn’t hire you to produce a litany of failures. I expected better, Emmet. You were known as a man of action, a man who could get the job done.”

“I will get it done,” Emmet swore, his fingers tightening on the glass until they turned white. His frustration boiled over, and he voiced the thought that had been eating at him for days. “I’ve got a gut feeling that it’s that damned schoolmarm, Emily Potter, that’s behind all this. That woman’s worse than any Pinkerton. She’s been asking questions, digging up information, even posing as a saloon girl to learn what happened to her old man. Jake says she went
out to see Lizzie, although we took care of that little problem. I think she’s the one who warned Bertie off.”

The boss paused and appeared to digest this information with interest. “Miss Potter? You think Potter’s daughter is directly involved?”

Emmet nodded his head. “If it wasn’t for your message, I’da shot her and been done with it the day I saw her at the post office, walking around like she’d got a stick in the back of her dress, them spectacles slipping down her face. She was snooping around, poking her nose into everyone’s business.”

“Interesting. So Miss Potter is trying to find out who caused her father’s death. That could mean trouble. But you can’t kill her. Not yet. She may still lead us to the gold, and I want that money. I was cheated out of it once; I don’t intend to let it happen again.”

“That’s the only reason that spinster lady’s still alive,” Emmet snarled. “She’s stirring up too much dust. That housekeeper’s gone, and China Blue is missing. The China girl’s really the one that can hurt you, though. She was there, remember.”

It wasn’t his neck on the line for the killings, and they both knew it. Emmet was getting a little tired of this game, and more than a little tired of taking orders. He pulled his hat down and discreetly glanced around the interior of the luxurious car, looking for the safe. Maybe it would be better to do it now, shoot the boss, and just take the money. As if reading his mind, the boss stood up and faced him.

“Don’t even think about it, Emmet. Do you really
believe I’d be so stupid as to keep my money with me? You’ll get paid as long as you perform. But I’m losing patience. I may have to take matters into my own hands.”

Emmet gritted his teeth. He’d already run through the money from the last train robbery, and he needed income until they found Potter’s two million. After that … well, that was another matter. He stood up quickly, balancing awkwardly with his wooden leg.

“I’ll shut that housekeeper up, if I have to track her back East myself. And that China girl’s as good as dead. You can bank on it.”

“Good. You do your part in this, and I’ll see that you’re rewarded. However, I do think it’s time I got more involved. I want to keep closer tabs on Miss Potter. If that gold is found, I want to know it. And I cannot tolerate any more incompetence.”

“Don’t worry,” Emmet spat, touching the butt of his pistol. “That gold will be found.”

A few days later, Emily stood in her hat shop, ringing up sales. A pile of receipts lay in a box at her side. Many of her display hats had already been sold, and she had standing orders for at least twenty more. Business was brisk, already much better than in Boston, for as Emily had originally noted, there was little competition. She also realized that the western women, tired of last year’s fashions, very much appreciated her newer styles and her unerring touch when it came to decorations. If things continued at this pace, she would have more than enough income
to get her through the winter, even if she never found the gold.

That thought led to other, more disturbing, ones. Thomas had been instrumental in helping her get started. A shiver of pleasure went through her as she thought of their lovemaking, and the tender things he’d said to her. He’d gone out of his way to reassure her, but he’d also held firmly to his belief that her father was, well, a crook. And if Thomas did clear his own name and prove her father had stolen the gold, it would create an impasse between them that might never be overcome.

The only solution was to discover the truth herself. She’d meant what she’d said to Thomas: She was falling in love with him. As a result, it was even more important that she find out what really happened, and put this dark cloud behind them. Now if she could just find more time to investigate!

Her nose wrinkled as she glanced down at her notes. She had so many clues, and with Thomas’s new information, it was even more imperative that they find China Blue before Emmet did. The laundry woman was possibly a material witness, and as such, held the key to the entire mystery. In spite of her promise to Thomas, she fully intended to try and find the woman herself.

Then there was the missing gold. Emily was still intrigued by what Rosie had said to her. Although she’d checked out the secret door the ghost had told her about, she hadn’t found anything. Yet that didn’t discourage her. If the gold was somewhere in the house, she’d have to take a logical approach to finding
it. Thus she planned to go over the measurements of the house, to discern whether there was unaccounted space where the gold could be hidden. Perhaps her father had built a secret room to hide the money. If so, she would find it.

In between customers, Emily tried to review the case, but it was a difficult task, especially in light of the distractions. Every time she began to make progress, she was interrupted. Finally she realized it was futile. Even Emily couldn’t do two things at once, much as she hated to admit it.

“I need help!” she said to herself, but somehow the words slipped out.

A woman who’d been looking at the hats paused at her elbow, turning to her with a curious expression. “Excuse me. Did you say something?”

Emily sighed. “I’m sorry, I was thinking out loud. Business is a little better than expected, and I just realized I need to hire someone.”

“Really?” The woman put down the bonnet she was holding, and a shy smile came to her face. “Isn’t that funny? I am a widow in need of income, and I was just thinking what a perfect occupation this would be. If you’re serious, maybe we should talk. My name is Lynette Stockbridge.” She extended her hand.

Emily felt as if God had overheard her. Putting on her spectacles, she looked over the woman before her, even as she accepted the proffered hand. Lynette was about five foot three, with soft blond hair and a slender figure.