Lawman (25 page)

Slight as his movement was, Megan saw it.
Her eyes widened. She stopped, their faces mere inches apart, with
the treat she'd selected still suspended between them.
Don't
stop
, he wanted to whisper, suddenly afraid she'd realized the
dangerous nature of their position and would end it too soon.
Come closer
.

Her gaze slipped to the fudge, then to his
waiting mouth. He felt caressed, as surely as if she'd touched his
lips already. A tremor shuddered through him, quick and harsh.

He wanted to taste
her
, not the
candy. Wanted the feel of her mouth, pliant and warm beneath his,
wanted a depth of joining between them that he'd only imagined
until now. Feeling naked in his need, Gabriel could endure her
teasing no longer. He edged his tongue forward, sorely tempted to
dip his head and take the fudge between his teeth as she'd taken
her glove's fabric between hers. Would Megan find the gesture as
erotic as he had?

Moving closer, he sensed the warmth of her
fingertips, felt the brush of his lower lip against her soft
skin...tasted blossoming sugary flavor as she hurriedly popped the
candy into his mouth.

She slid across the stone wall, putting
distance between them just as Gabriel's mouth closed. Like a man
awakening, he became aware again of the people surrounding them.
The hum of cicadas grew louder, as did the mellow strumming of
guitars from the Sonoran musicians. Their song hinted at
completion, rose on a cooling breath of wind, and carried further
to join with the burble of the tumbled-stone fountain.

Everything was as it had been.

Everything...except the flavor of Megan's
gift.

Chocolate melted on his tongue, rich with
cream and sugar and buttery texture. He nearly groaned aloud at the
pleasure of it—and did, when he saw that Megan still watched
him...and had unthinkingly slipped her fingers into her mouth to
suck them clean.

Transfixed, Gabriel imagined the soft
pressure of her mouth, the velvet sweep of her tongue. His body
leapt with eagerness. With one innocent gesture, Megan reduced him
to a needfulness he'd never known. He ached with wanting her,
trembled with an urge to drag her into his arms.

Before he could move, she withdrew her
fingers from between her lips. Her blush-stained cheeks revealed
her embarrassment at having been seen in a pose so abandoned. With
eyes grown large and luminous, she stared from her half-lowered
fingers to the bundle of fudge still held aloft in her other hand.
An uneven smile tilted her mouth.

Raising his hand, Gabriel traced her smile's
curve with his thumb, feeling an answering grin come to his lips.
Why the feel of her bowed, smiling mouth should bring him such a
dose of happiness as he felt now, he couldn't imagine. He only knew
that it did.

He swallowed lingering traces of chocolate
and drew in a breath with which to tell her so. "Megan, I—"

"Wait! Here."

Her fingers fluttered, then she quickly
leaned toward him. He recognized the second piece of fudge in her
hand in the same instant she shoved it at his lips. He opened his
mouth to take it without thinking, and found himself savoring more
chocolate—while she readied still another piece in her shaky
hands.

"Mmmph." He gestured to have no more, then
was forced to speak around the bite he had when Megan raised a
third piece all the same. "You don't have to—"

"I'm glad to see you like it," she said
brightly, poring over the remaining pyramid of fudge in her hand.
She glanced up, saw he was still chewing, and went on: "Because
it's really meant as a thank-you. You seem to be particularly fond
of sweets, so I asked Hattie for some fudge to take with me. For
you!"

Abruptly, she ended her wobbly sounding
speech and thrust the packet toward him. The waxy papers wavered in
the breeze, close enough to snap against his hat brim. Gabriel
eased his hand over them and cupped the entire bundle—papers,
fudge, and Megan's hand—in his palm, lowering them so he could see
past the whole mess to her face.

She blinked back at him, her full lower lip
caught between her teeth. It struck him that Megan seemed
nervous—endearingly so. But why?

If he hadn't helped prepare it with his own
two hands, Gabriel might have sworn the fudge was poisoned, and her
nervousness owed itself to fear of being caught murdering a
Pinkerton man with tainted sweets.

She lowered her voice, visibly uneasy—yet
determined to do what she planned, all the same. "Th—thank you for
helping me today. I want you to know it...it meant a great deal to
me."

He opened his mouth to speak. Quick as a
lightening bug, Megan swept her hand from beneath the shelter of
his and rammed in another hunk of fudge. Obviously, she needed time
to get out whatever she was trying to say. Gabriel considered
himself an obliging man. He waited.

And chewed.

Likewise, Megan nibbled at her lip. She
darted him a sideways glance, then hefted the pile of fudge. "You
might as well just take this," she blurted, lowering it.

Her paper-wrapped gift quivered on its
descent toward his thighs, rustling like falling autumn leaves,
then landed crookedly in his lap. She gave a goofy grin, happy as a
worker with a job well done. If Megan realized she'd all-but shook
hands with his manhood in the process of handing over the candy,
she gave no sign of it.

"Thank you," Gabriel said, feeling as though
his pants had suddenly shrunk two sizes too small. He shifted in
search of a comfortable position. A piece of candy tumbled from the
pile in his lap, bounced from his boot, and fell to the dirt.

"Oh!" Megan bent double to retrieve it,
babbling something about wasting perfectly good chocolate. Gabriel
smiled and drew her upward again, watching with curiosity as she
brushed off her hands and settled herself in what he supposed was
meant as a dignified pose.

"Come out with it, Megan," he coaxed at
last, making a heroic effort to hide his smile. Well-earned as it
was, his amusement wouldn't sit well with her now, he'd guess.
"It's plain you've something more on your mind, and we haven't all
night to spend here—much as I wish we did."

The husky edge to his voice shocked him into
new awareness. Frowning over its implications, Gabriel sought to
paste on a placid expression. This was dangerous territory they
trod—especially for two enemies, both seeking the same wanted
man.

She looked at him. He couldn't gauge the
effect of his supposedly placid face—until Megan licked her lips,
and sent her gaze roving over his mouth once more.

Hell. It hadn't worked.

Did she understand what her innocent
interest could do to a man? Knowing Megan, he'd have guessed she
did nothing without planning it first. But in this, the dealings
between men and women, she seemed suddenly and genuinely
unsure.

Gabriel glanced away, the better to consider
this new facet to the woman he had thought he'd come to know, at
least a little. Nearby, lighted lanterns swung from the tree
branches, sending a warm yellow glow across Levin's Park. Sometime
during his time with Megan, the sun had set completely.

It was nearly time for the meeting he'd come
here to see, Gabriel realized. His belly tightened at the knowledge
that this new closeness between him and Megan would vanish once she
knew the truth of their reason for visiting Levin's Park.

The musicians began another song. As though
she took courage from their melody, Megan sat straighter and drew a
deep breath. "Well, I just mean to thank you, is all," she said
briskly. "Thank you. For helping me, and for pretending to be my
dressmaker's
mannequin
today."

Her words came faster, but her face did not
turn again toward his. Gabriel found himself missing the sight of
her flushed cheeks and discovery-bright eyes, and knew he was more
a fool than he'd known for taking on this last case.

And for taking her with him.

"You don't know how important that was to
me," she went on, "and I...I know how hard such subterfuge must
have been. Especially for a man like you. Mighty hard."

Not as hard as it should have been
.
Gabriel frowned. Evidently, habits learned in childhood weren't as
easily broken as he'd wished.

He glanced sideways at Megan. Her shoulders
slumped, rounding slightly forward. With relief, he'd wager, now
that her task was finished.

"You're welcome," he said, setting his candy
aside atop his suit coat. "It was no harder, I'd say, than that
thank-you was for you."

His comment found its mark. Megan's head
jerked upward. With wary eyes, she examined his face, took measure
of his stance, and then folded her hands demurely across the fan
and gloves jumbled atop her skirts. "I did it, didn't I? That's all
that needs said."

From the corner of his eye, Gabriel glimpsed
a bewhiskered, bowler-hatted man wandering casually toward the
musicians. Another man joined him. They stood together, partly
concealed in the shadows between pools of swaying lamplight. From
this distance, and given the poor light, he couldn't tell if they
were the men he sought.

Not wanting to alert Megan until he felt
more sure, he went on with their conversation: "You seem a woman
who does everything she sets out to do. This shouldn't be any
different." He spared her a glance, then looked toward the two men
again. "And yet it was."

Saying nothing, she fiddled with her gloves,
drawing on first one and then the other. She lingered over
buttoning them, her fingers nimble as she tucked each pearly button
into place.

"It's not because I'm ungrateful," Megan
told him at length. "I haven't much experience with delivering
thank-yous, is all."

"Why is that?"

The words slipped from him in a distracted
tone. Gabriel peered toward the musicians, and the crowd gathered
'round them, then spied a Mexican boy carrying a lighted torch. The
child made his way past the tenpin alley beyond, then crouched low,
setting something alight.

A bonfire flared into life. The gathering
people stared toward it, their faces cast into bold view by the
flames. In twos and threes, they went back to watching the
musicians. Soon, only their silhouettes were visible.

Megan raised her hands to her hat brim,
tilting it at a sharper angle. "I don't generally have a need to
thank anyone," she said. Something in her voice warned him he'd
stepped on dangerous ground once more, but Gabriel couldn't imagine
how.

And with the assembly forming just a few
feet away, he couldn't spare time to wonder.

"You do everything for yourself, then?" he
asked idly.

A third man joined the two he'd seen. He
pulled something from his pocket and tossed it into the air, then
caught it. Was it the sign Gabriel had been told to look for? He
couldn't see well enough to tell....

"Mostly, yes," Megan said. As though she
somehow sensed his growing interest in the crowd near the
musicians, she eased forward against her stone wall seat. In the
distance, the players' guitars raced to a crescendo, then abruptly
fell silent.

In the scattered applause that followed, she
said, "I've no need for thank-yous, agent Winter. Most things I
handle myself."

She meant it to be dismissive. He recognized
that much from the proud tilt of her chin, and the tight clasp
Megan kept on her folded fan. Instead, Gabriel found himself
suddenly saddened by the glimpse into her life she had
inadvertently given him.

She had spent it alone. Seeking help from no
one. Receiving none. And now, if all went as he'd planned, Gabriel
would increase her loneliness in ways she could never have foreseen
from her days at Kearney Station.

He opened his mouth to say
something—anything—that might ease her. At the same time, a fourth
man stepped forward to join the rest. In the flickering bonfire's
light, Gabriel recognized him.

Joseph Kearney. Standing nigh within
reach.

Chapter Fourteen

No sooner had Megan recognized that the
stocky man in the plain work shirt, twill trousers, and low-slung
hat was her papa than Gabriel Winter stiffened beside her. In an
instant, his body turned hard as the stones of the fountain wall
they sat upon.

Doubtless he would be equally hardened
against the lives his investigation would ruin.

Desperation rushed through her, along with
an unlikely set of explanations. Maybe Gabriel didn't know what the
bonfire's flames had revealed. Maybe he'd merely been watching the
musicians, and then had tensed at some misplayed note in their
song. Hoping to have her guesses confirmed, she dared a quick
glance in his direction.

One look at his uncompromising profile left
her pulse thundering. Gabriel
had
seen her papa.

And he'd recognized him, too.

She wanted to scream for her papa to run, to
throw herself on Gabriel and beg him to end his chase now, before
it went too far for reparations. Most especially, she wanted to
take back all the time she'd wasted with mooning over a coldhearted
Pinkerton man, just as though his helping her today had been
genuine, and freely given.

And to think she'd humbled herself to thank
him for it!

Never again
, Megan swore, taking in
Gabriel's icy stance. She'd sooner never be helped than to be taken
advantage of for the need of it.

Obviously, her plans to strive for
independence had been correct all along. More than ever, she saw
the need for her dressmaker's shop sale to go forward—and for the
security it would bring. She couldn't rely upon anyone to help her.
Agent Winter's actions today were simply more proof of that cold
reality.

Beside her, Gabriel dropped his hand to his
gun belt. His thumb rubbed over the ammunition arrayed there, in a
caressing gesture that was strangely reminiscent of the way he'd
traced her smile just a short while ago. Hurt poured through her at
the remembrance.