The Fall of Rome (16 page)

“What about tonight--”

“Canceled.”

“Dang.” Teddy mumbled something about bad business, then made the announcement as London hit the stairs.

Ignoring the disgruntled rumblings, he entered his private apartment and hung his hat on a peg. Just as he neared Tori’s door, Mrs. Chen blew out of the room in a huff. Though her black hair was streaked with grey, the Oriental woman could pass for anywhere between thirty and fifty years old. A hard worker, she nary said a word and was always pleasant. Just now she was riled.

“She no listen to me,” the petite woman ranted. She jabbed a slender finger at the closed door. “She stubborn. She should be in bed.”

“I’ll take care of it, Mrs. Chen. Thank you for helping out.”

“I no help. She no let me. I could make better, but she stubborn.” She muttered something in Chinese, then threw up her hands. “I go cook now. She need strength to make music.”

“She won’t be . . .” he trailed off as the woman whizzed past, “making music.”

Still toting the package, London turned to knock, only this time Tori stepped out. And stole away his breath. The only reason he knew she was still under the weather was from her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. Dressed in a provocative indigo gown, her long hair arranged into a loose chignon, she looked like an angel and temptress rolled into one. No cosmetics. No accessories, except for the simple gold locket hanging around her slender neck. Her beauty was natural and unique. Never had he been so physically and emotionally stirred by a woman. Were she to go downstairs now, she’d be hit with a dozen propositions before she ever made it to the piano. The notion rankled.

Don’t be a jealous ass, Garrett.

“You’re staring,” she said, pressing a hand over her pronounced cleavage. “Do I look alright?”

“You look beautiful.” An understatement.

“Mrs. Chen was kind enough to lace the, my . . .”Blushing, she skimmed a hand down her midriff.

He raised a brow. “Corset?”

“It’s a little tight, I think. Or maybe the décolletage is too . .”

“Low?”

She tugged at the neckline.

He smiled. “First time you’ve ever worn that gown?”

“Yes. No.” She looked away. “It’s been a while.”

Clearly she was self-conscious, which, again, didn’t fit with the image his friend had painted of a professional, outgoing, and flirtatious Tori Adams. His gut told him this pretty, shy thing was not who she claimed to be. But why the pretense?

He backed her into her bedroom. “Maybe you’d feel more comfortable in a less revealing gown.”

“I don’t own a less revealing gown.” She glanced at her trunk. “Not for stage anyway.”

He laid the package on her bed, crossed his arms. “Guess you didn’t notice when you were downstairs yesterday. Last Chance doesn’t have a stage.”

“Oh.” She frowned, wrung her hands. “Does it have a piano?”

“An old upright. But it’s out of tune, and three of the keys are broken. Frankly, Tori, I hadn’t planned on anyone playing it.”

She rushed forward, tugging at her plunging neckline. “But you hired me--”

“About that--”

“I have proof.”

“Excuse me?” He was more surprised by her anxious tone than the odd statement.

She brushed past him, nabbed her reticule from the nightstand, and rooted. “Here.” She thrust a folded paper into his hands.

Intrigued, he read, noting the date, recognizing the wording. “The wire I sent offering you an engagement at the Gilded Garrett.”

“That’s right.”

He glanced up. “This isn’t the Gilded Garrett.”

“I know. But the new owner refused to honor my contract, so I thought... well, it was you who promised me a job.”

His lip twitched. “You got me there.”

“They say I’m a gifted pianist.”

“I’ve heard.”

“I know I didn’t make a good first impression, and then last night. . .” Her cheeks flushed hotter. “You must think me horribly childish.”

He placed the telegram on her nightstand, then turned to find her fingering that locket. The necklace she’d refused to give over to Brady. Either it was worth a fortune or held sentimental value. He’d ask, but he didn’t want to force her into talking about the heist before she was ready. “I think you’ve been through a frightening ordeal. I think you’re understandably shaken. I know you’re unwell and agree with Mrs. Chen. You should be in bed.”

“But your patrons--”

“Have been told your performance is canceled.”

“But--”

“Why are you in such a hurry to entertain my customers?”

“Because I want to prove to you that I’m worth keeping around.”

The woman vibrated with anxiety and a sadness that made hash out of London’s heart. “Never crossed my mind to send you away.”

“It didn’t?”

He clasped her hands and gazed into her troubled eyes. “There a man in your life, Tori? Anyone special?”

“No.” Tears filled her eyes. “There’s no one. It’s just . . . me.”

“Not anymore.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, sweetly, softly. She tasted like peppermint, her lips lush and warm. Given her shy streak, he expected her to stiffen.

She didn’t. She wrapped her arms around his neck and--hell’s fire--kissed him with a passion that obliterated sane thought. For a moment he thought maybe she was who she claimed to be--the temptress who’d delighted men with her talents, on and off stage.

But then he slid one hand to her rear and slipped his tongue inside her mouth.

Then
she stiffened.

She gasped and wrenched back, eyes wide with shock.

Then he knew.

He hadn’t fallen for Tori Adams. He’d fallen for the woman in his arms, an innocent, and he hadn’t a clue as to her real identity.

But he’d find out.

He stroked a thumb over her heated cheeks. “Get some rest, honey.”

If he didn’t leave her now, he’d seduce her. He knew he could, he felt it. Yet that was her strange power over him. Her vulnerability proved her protection. She wasn’t ready, in more ways than he might know. He needed some distance, needed to send some wires. He needed to hear back from Athens.

He made it to the threshold before she spoke. “You,” she said.

He looked over his shoulder.

She quirked a shy smile. “You’re special.”

The words pierced his heart. He was usually the one backstage, in the shadows, the one in an office or at home taking care of family needs. In short, compared to his brothers he had always considered himself the boring one. The way she looked at him, the way his heart pounded for the first time in his life, he felt anything but boring.

Yup. Definitely smitten.

Tucson

“Full house.” Kat showed her hand, bit back a smile.

Rome delighted in her uncharacteristic excitement. “Thought you said you were rusty.”

“Guess it’s like riding a horse.”

“Some things you never forget.” Locked away in her hotel room for the second time today, he gazed across the table at her, thinking they were a stone’s throw from her bed. He’d been having thoughts like that all afternoon. Him and Kat. In bed.

Naked.

He winked.

She narrowed her eyes. “I was referring to playing poker.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Stop trying to distract me, Rome Garrett. I won. I get to ask the next question.”

“Seems to me you’ve asked
most
of the questions.”

“Can’t help it if I’m the better card player.”

“Modest, too,” he teased.

She smiled full-out and Rome hardened. Christ, she was beautiful. She’d dressed in a stylish gown. The golden satin accentuated her vivid doe-eyes. The neckline dipped just low enough to garner attention. Throughout the day, now and then, his gaze drifted down and over the swell of her breasts. Considering his arousal just now, he struggled to keep his eyes level with hers. Regardless, his blood pumped with desire. It wasn’t so much about her physical beauty, he decided, but the beauty of her spirit.

Knowing she was nervous about playing cards later tonight, he’d suggested a few rounds of poker--just the two of them, for practice. As a way of getting to know one another, he suggested they play for information instead of money. For every hand she won, she got to ask him a personal question and vice versa. So far they’d played four hands. He’d won one and had asked about her metamorphosis from gambler to saloon owner.

“Monopolize on what you know.”
she’d said.

Learning how she’d settled in a remote town, changed her name, and kept life simple--all in order to avoid Jed
Bulls-Eye
Brady--had tripled his admiration of her and doubled his conviction to squash the treacherous outlaw.

Kat had just won her third game. So far she’d asked him about his favorite reading material and his political views. He had a feeling she was warming up to a more personal interrogation. The price to be paid for wanting to know her better, he told himself. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind.

She eased back in her chair and tapped her forefinger to her chin, contemplating her question.

Rather than torturing himself with visions of unlacing her corset and palming what he knew to be spectacular breasts, he thought back on this whirlwind day. Earlier this morning, they’d joined Athens, aka Sherman Shakespeare, for breakfast--their first public outing as a couple. In between animated discussions, they’d spoken softly of the night to come. The new angle involved her not attempting to be the “Kat everyone knew” but being true to herself. She didn’t have to dazzle the public with a saucy personality, just with her impressive card skills. She didn’t have to flirt with every man--just Rome.

Her relief had been visible.

After breakfast Shakespeare went one way, Rome and Kat another. Disguised as Dwight Dupree, Seth was already circulating. The group’s agenda: to fan excitement and gossip about disgraced dime-novel hero, Rome Garrett, and Katrina Simmons, cardsharp extraordinaire.

For their part, Rome and Kat visited various merchants, shopping, gossiping, making and leaving an impression wherever they went. By mid-afternoon, a good portion of the city’s populace believed that Rome Garrett and Kat Simmons, daughter of famous gambler Charles F. Simmons, had reunited. Once they started cleaning up at the tables, they’d garner even more attention and, hopefully, publicity. Rome knew all about making headlines. Only this time it was calculated.

He wished he could say the same regarding his amorous treatment of Kat. In public, he’d taken liberties--holding her hand, nuzzling her cheek. He’d stolen a kiss in the dry goods section of Drachman’s General Store. Her warm response had struck him weak in the knees. Logically, he knew they were baiting Brady. Emotionally, he felt like the one primed to get burned. If only Kat hadn’t blown away his cynicism and anger with her heartfelt revelations.

“I’ve got it.” She swayed forward, brown eyes bright with curiosity.

Rome leaned back in his chair and braced himself. “Fire away.”

“Why a crime fighter? Why not an actor or a director? Your mother was a musical actress. Your father, owner of an opera house. Your upbringing had to be less than conventional. I know they died when you were young. I know London inherited the Gilded Garrett and became the patriarch of the family.
He
went into the theater business. Why not you?”

Rome raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Winning one hand affords you one question.”

She smirked. “Why a Wells Fargo detective?”

“The glory.”

She tucked loose ringlets behind her delicate ears and processed his answer. Two seconds later, she shoved her cards to the middle of the table. “I’m not playing any more until I have a detailed answer. If I don’t play, you don’t have a chance of winning, and therefore you forfeit any right to question me about. . . whatever.”

She-devil.

He smiled. “Detailed, huh?”

“Start from the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.” She poured herself another cup of coffee, freshened his. Their third pot today. “I’m all ears.”

Lucky him. He blew out a breath and decided payback would be a bitch. He wanted to know about Frankie. She’d yet to offer details about the young girl and their relationship. In fact, she’d refrained from mentioning her at all today, yet he knew the kid was on her mind. It was why she’d come out of hiding.

“I failed Frankie. “

That statement, the heartbreak in her tone, haunted him.

“My father preferred the limelight to family life,” he said, hoping his openness would inspire hers. “He spent more time with hired performers than his children. More time with starlets than his wife. He broke my mother’s heart. She was the first woman I longed to save.”

Kat sipped her coffee, her eyes pleading with him to continue.

“I never had the chance. Not long after my father died, my mother succumbed to an illness. As the eldest, London took charge of caring for the younger siblings. Only I wasn’t keen on being looked after.”

“Obstinate, even then.”

“I’ve been a pain in his ass for a long time.” He hadn’t felt bad about that until now. Well, hell. “Once Athens proved a reliable caretaker, London started spending a good deal of time in San Francisco overseeing the family’s business. On my sixteenth birthday, I started frequenting Percy’s Poker Palace, a local bawdy featuring musicians, variety acts, and dancing girls. I didn’t burn to perform like Ma. Wasn’t driven to stage theatrical productions like my father. But I sure as hell enjoyed the view from the audience. I appreciated the performers’ talents. Admired the actresses and girls in the chorus and, like my dog-of-a-daddy, enjoyed flirting with those women.”

He eyed Kat, wondering if he’d shared too much.

She tilted her head in interest. “I’m reading you like a book just now, Rome.”

“Do tell.”

“You’re thinking, though you despised your father for being a faithless seducer, you turned out just like him.”

He wanted to avert his gaze, but didn’t. “I had an affair with a married woman.”

“Sarah Smith,” she said. “I know.”

He grunted. “The whole world knows.”

“I don’t know about the whole world. You’re not that famous.”