Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Copyright

Kaitlin tightened her grip on the broom.

“Have you changed your mind? Do you want to back out?”

“No, I’m not backing out. I’m fixing up the place. I’m keeping my end of the bargain.”

“Can’t you at least be pleasant in the process?”

Tripp rolled his eyes. “It’s not enough for you that I’m doing it? I have to like it, too?”

Kaitlin swung the broom at him, swatting him squarely on the chest. “Yes! Yes, you have to like it!”

Tripp fell back a step, stunned.

She advanced on him, clenching the broom in her fist. “Yes, you have to like it, Tripp Callihan! This is my life you’re a part of now, and I won’t have you griping, moaning and complaining about everything. Life’s hard enough without your own partner dragging you down! Do you understand me?”

He understood, all right. Better than Kaitlin Jeffers would ever imagine…

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Harlequin Historicals—stories that will capture your heart with unforgettable characters and the timeless fantasy of falling in love!

Rising talent Judith Stacy is back this month with The Dreammaker, set in 1880s Nevada. Known for her light, feel-good stories, Judith has again written a tale about family and finding oneself—and love—along the way. Here, two very different people, a single father and an aspiring actress, are swindled by the same man and become business partners to recoup their losses and realize their dreams. Ironically, love—the dream of a lifetime—is right in front of them!

Award-winning author Gayle Wilson returns with a mesmerizing Regency-style romance, Lady Sarah’s Son, about sweethearts, torn apart by tragedy, who reunite in a marriage of convenience and can no longer deny their enduring love…In The Hidden Heart, a terrific medieval tale by Sharon Schulze, a beautiful noblewoman must guard her heart from the only man she has ever loved—the Earl of Wynfield, who has returned to her keep on a dangerous secret mission. And don’t miss Cooper’s Wife by rising talent Jillian Hart, a heartwarming Western about single parents—a sheriff and a troubled widow—who marry to protect their kids, and find true love.

Enjoy! And come back again next month for four more choices of the best in historical romance.

Sincerely,

Tracy Farrell, Senior Editor

P.S. We’d love to hear what you think about Harlequin Historicals! Drop us a line at:

Harlequin Historicals

300 E. 42nd Street, 6th Floor

New York, NY 10017

The Dreammaker
Judith Stacy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JUDITH STACY

began writing as a personal challenge and found it a perfect outlet for all those thoughts and ideas bouncing around in her head. She chose romance because of the emotional involvement with the characters, and historicals for her love of bygone days.

Judith has been married to her high school sweetheart for over two decades and has two daughters. When not writing, she haunts museums, historical homes and antique stores, gathering ideas for new adventures set in the past.

To Judy and Stacy, who keep me grounded To David, who gives me wings

Chapter One

Nevada, 1884

Every conception should be this delightful.

Kaitlin Jeffers turned sideways, studying her round belly in the big oval mirror. She stretched out her arms and rested her palms on the bulge. Goodness, she could hardly reach all the way around.

A wide grin parted her lips. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Kaitlin faced the mirror making sure the folds of her black dress hung straight. She looked down to be certain the hem touched the tops of her kid shoes, and laughed aloud. was her big stomach.

Looking up, she saw her reflection in the mirror and forced the smile from her face. She’d have to remember not to make that mistake again. Maybe she should have rehearsed more.

A metal key scraped in the door behind her, and in the mirror she saw Isabelle Langley walk into their hotel room. Tall and thin, her friend was even more a contrast to her now.

Kaitlin turned sideways and dropped her hands onto her belly. “Come to admire your brother’s handiwork?”

Isabelle’s eyes widened and she fell back against the closed door. “Saints alive, Kaitlin, I can’t believe you!”

Kaitlin’s smile broadened and she wiggled back and forth. “Looks good, huh?”

“It looks horrible!” Isabelle sheltered her eyes, then drew in a breath and looked at her again. “I can’t believe my brother let you talk him into this.”

She patted her round belly affectionately. “He does good work, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re disgusting.” Isabelle tossed her armload of packages onto the brass bed. “I found a bonnet like you asked for in a millinery shop down the street—it’s the ugliest one in this whole town. Of course, there’s not much here to choose from.”

“And just as well.” Kaitlin turned back to the mirror and tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear. “The smaller the town, the better. We need to be in and out of this place quickly.”

Isabelle unpinned her hat. “Please, Kaitlin, think this over. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Kaitlin sighed impatiently. “You promised you wouldn’t nag if I let you come along.”

“You don’t know what might happen. You don’t know these people. What if they toss you in jail?”

Kaitlin planted her hands on her hips. “Who in their right mind would throw a woman in my condition in jail?”

“You don’t have a condition!”

She bounced her fists off her belly. “Yes, I do.”

“I’m going to kill my brother.” Isabelle shook her head slowly. “He’d better stick to harness making from now on.”

“Leave him out of this. He only did what I asked. And did it very well, I might add.” Kaitlin leaned her shoulder closer to her friend. “You can’t see the straps, can you?”

Isabelle glared at her, then walked over. “No.”

“How about in the back?” Kaitlin turned around.

“No.”

She looked over her shoulder. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Good.” Kaitlin turned and lifted the bulk of her belly higher. She frowned. “This might be uncomfortable, if I were really pregnant.”

Isabelle moaned and covered her face with her hands. “Kaitlin, please don’t do this. You can’t go around pretending to be pregnant. Somebody will find out.”

“No one will find out. We’ve never been to this town before—neither of us. No one recognized us on the stage this morning, or when we checked-in. We’ll be out of here on the afternoon stage. What can go wrong?”

“A thousand things!”

Kaitlin drew in a determined breath. “That crook Harvey Stutz stole every dime I had in this world. Tricked me out of it, and waltzed away with a big smile on his face. I’m getting it back—no matter what I have to do.”

“But Kaitlin—”

“You know what I’d been saving that money for.”

Isabelle’s shoulders sagged. “Yes, I know.”

“Harvey Stutz stole my dream.”

She nodded sorrowfully. “I know.”

“He pretended he liked me, pretended he cared about me, until I told him about all the money I’d saved. Then he broke into my room and took every cent.” Kaitlin squared her shoulders. “Well, he’s dead now, and if it means pretending to be his pregnant widow to get back what belongs to me, then so be it.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. Now, help me get ready.”

Isabelle pried open the hat box she’d tossed on the feather mattress and took out the black, straw bonnet. “Try this on.”

Kaitlin winced. “It’s ugly, all right.”

She turned to the mirror and pinned the hat in place, then lowered the thin black veil over her face. The hat was a trifle too big, and that made her look small and vulnerable; her stomach bulging beneath the black dress completed the effect.

“How do I look?” She turned to Isabelle.

“Awful.”

“Good.” Kaitlin drew in a deep breath. “Well, I’m going now. The sheriff is expecting me.”

“Do you have everything?”

Kaitlin held up her left hand displaying her mother’s gold wedding band, then patted her stomach. “Ring and baby. That’s all I need.”

“Are you sure you remember your story?”

“Of course. My dear husband Harvey—the rat—and I were married some time ago. I knew little about him, except that he traveled a great deal. When I read his obituary in the newspaper I was devastated, of course. So, here I am to collect his belongings. What could be simpler than that?”

“What if the sheriff doesn’t believe you?”

Kaitlin wagged her finger at Isabelle. “Are you doubting my acting abilities?”

“But what if there really is a Mrs. Harvey Stutz?”

“He’s been dead over a month now. Any legitimate wife would have already come forward—if there’s a woman out there stupid enough to have actually married a crook like him.” Kaitlin nodded confidently. “And, if one should show up, I’ll just be devastated that Harvey married me too, and run crying from the sheriff’s office.”

“Well, I guess you’ve thought of everything.”

“Don’t worry.” Kaitlin patted her belly. “Junior and I will be back within the hour, then we’ll be on our way home.”

Isabelle wrung her hands. “Just be careful.”

Kaitlin left the hotel room ready to give the performance of a lifetime. She’d learned about performing, mostly from her mother. But then Harvey Stutz had come along and taught her what it could really mean, what it could lead to. Harvey, who used his own acting talents to con unsuspecting, young women out of their money. Even now, it galled Kaitlin that she’d been so gullible.

In the hallway she made certain no other hotel guests were about, then hurried down the stairs to the lobby. The young man behind the desk was busy with a couple and their three fidgeting children and didn’t even look her way as she crept out the front door.

The noon sun brightened everything, even from behind her black veil. Horses, wagons and carriages crowded the dirt street, pedestrians moved slowly along the boardwalk.

Odd, but everyone seemed to get out of her way, stepping aside, giving her plenty of room to pass. Men she didn’t know tipped their hats. Kaitlin thought her black mourning dress was the reason, then realized every man she passed gazed at her belly first before looking at her veiled face. Decidedly uncomfortable, Kaitlin hurried to the sheriffs office down the block and went inside.

The place smelled of coffee and gun oil. Across the small office sat a desk cluttered with papers. Rifles hung in racks on the walls flanked by Wanted posters. A dark corridor allowed Kaitlin a glimpse of iron bars. She shuddered, Isabelle’s dire warnings coming back to her.

“Help you, ma’am?”

The deep voice from the opposite side of the room startled her. She jumped as she saw two men standing at the potbellied stove in the corner, and touched her hand to her bulging stomach.

“Take it easy now, ma’am.”

A man—his gaze glued to her belly—hurried over. Gray hair showed below the brim of his hat and a badge hung on his vest. He cupped her elbow.

“Just come have a seat, ma’am. Don’t get yourself all upset. Doc’s out of town and we don’t want no surprises.”

The sheriff led her to the chair in front of his desk. “Get some water over here for the lady, will you Callihan?”

Kaitlin plopped into the chair, her huge belly bulging out in front of her. She shifted awkwardly. Mercy, this thing was uncomfortable.

“You want to put your feet up? My missus, she always wanted to put her feet up,” the sheriff said.

Kaitlin nearly gasped aloud. Good grief, if she raised her feet she’d surely tumble backward out of the chair.

“No, thank you, Sheriff.”

“You just take it easy. Callihan, get that water over here, will you? Ma’am, you want me to get Mrs. Neff from next door? She’s birthed a bunch of young’uns herself. I’ll go get her. She’s right next door.”

Kaitlin nearly panicked. That was the last thing she needed. “I’m fine, Sheriff, really. Thank you.”

“Here, just drink some water. Callihan, give her the water.”

The other man stepped to her side. She sensed him before she actually saw him, a forceful, masculine presence. Slowly she lifted her gaze. Long legs, lean hips, a broad chest covered in black. A strong jaw, lips set in a thin line, a straight nose. Eyes, blue as the ocean. A black hat pulled low on his forehead.

Kaitlin’s mouth sagged open as her heart pounded its way into her throat. Breath left her in a sickly wheeze.

“Here.”

He shoved the tin cup at her. Kaitlin gulped and reached for it. Their fingers brushed. For an instant they both hung there, their gazes locked. Then he turned quickly and walked to the opposite side of the desk.

Kaitlin lifted the veil off her face wishing she could dump the water down her bodice to cool the strange heat that enveloped her. Instead, she sipped slowly.

“You feeling better, ma’am?” the sheriff asked.

She cleared her throat and set the cup aside. “Yes, Sheriff, thank you.”

“Good.” He dragged his sleeve across his forehead. “I guess you must be Mrs. Stutz?”

“Who?”

The sheriff frowned. “Harvey Stutz’s widow.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I am.” Kaitlin glanced at the man in the corner and shifted in her chair. She lowered her eyes demurely. “Yes, dear Harvey was my husband.”

The sheriff touched his finger to the brim of his hat. “Real sorry about your loss, Mrs. Stutz. Real sorry.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

“Well, let’s get on with this.” He bustled around his desk. “I’m Sheriff Newell and this here is Mr. Callihan. Tripp Callihan.”

Kaitlin dared lift her gaze to the man in the corner. He was already watching her and spared her no more than a brief nod.

Who was this man? Kaitlin looked away, but felt the heat of his gaze burning into her face. Was he a deputy? He had no badge pinned to his chest. Surely not a criminal, walking freely in the sheriffs office, but Mr. Tripp Callihan had a dangerous look about him, just the same.

Kaitlin forced her gaze away from him. “I understand, Sheriff, that you have my husband’s belongings.”

Sheriff Newell cleared his throat and glanced at Tripp. “Well, yeah, I do. But there’s a little problem, Mrs. Stutz. You see, Mr. Callihan read my notice in the paper and came to town just like you. He’s put in a claim on your husband’s things, too.”

Kaitlin’s back stiffened. So that’s why he was’ here. She hadn’t counted on this. And she didn’t know if that meant Tripp Callihan was Harvey Stutz’s partner in crime, or another one of his victims.

She touched her hand to her forehead. “I—I don’t understand.”

“It seems Mr. Callihan here had some…dealings…with your husband.”

The realization of Callihan’s purpose in the sheriff’s office caused Kaitlin’s spine to tingle. Harvey Stutz had conned him, too. Callihan was a victim, the same as she.

From the corner of her eye, Kaitlin glanced at Tripp Callihan. What had Harvey Stutz taken from him? Money? A dream? A dream like the one he stole from her when he’d taken her life savings?

Kaitlin drew in a determined breath. Whatever Harvey Stutz had taken, Tripp Callihan had a better opportunity of getting it back than she did. Right here, right now was Kaitlin’s only chance.

She gasped and clutched her belly. “Oh, dear.”

The sheriff’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing serious…probably.” Kaitlin drew in a ragged breath. “Now, you were saying?”

Sheriff Newell shifted uncomfortably. “Tell me, ma’am, do you know what your husband did for a living…exactly?”

“Certainly.” Kaitlin blinked up at him. “Harvey was a salesman.”

The sheriff and Tripp exchanged a troubled look.

Kaitlin smiled innocently. “We weren’t married very long, but my Harvey was always off working as hard as he could, providing for me and our child.” She caressed her belly. “Why do you ask, sheriff?”

“No reason, ma’am. No reason.”

Kaitlin gazed at Tripp. “Is that how you knew my husband, Mr. Callihan? Were you two business partners?”

He hung his thumbs in his gun belt. “Not exactly.”

“Well, the fact is, Mrs. Stutz, that it’s up to me to decide on who gets what. With both you and Mr. Callihan here filing a claim, well, I—”

“Ohhh…” Kaitlin pushed herself out of the chair, bracing her hand at the small of her back.

Sheriff Newell jumped. “Maybe I ought to go get Mrs. Neff.”

“No, no. I don’t want to be a bother.” Kaitlin smiled bravely. “It will help if I stand a while…maybe.”

“You want some more water?”

“I’m just a little tired, that’s all. It was a long journey here, and not very comfortable on the stage. So much time alone to…think.” Kaitlin pulled a lace handkerchief from the pocket of her dress and pressed it to the corner of her eye. “The memories, you know. So many memories. I’ve no other family. Did I tell you that?”

Sheriff Newell shook his head. “No ma’am, you didn’t.”

Kaitlin sniffed and patted her belly. “It’s just me and Little Harvey here. I’m trying to preserve all I can for him, so he’ll know his pa in some small way.”

“That’s good of you, ma’am.”

She sniffed again and dabbed at her eyes. “Could we get on with this, please, Sheriff?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sheriff Newell opened his desk drawer and withdrew a small sack. “This here’s everything your husband had on him when he died. And since you’re his only rightful kin, Mrs. Stutz, I guess it all belongs to you.”

Kaitlin nearly kicked up her heels, but forced herself to lower her eyes. “You’re so kind.”

“Hold on a minute.” Tripp advanced on the sheriff. “I’ve got a claim on Stutz’s belongings, too.”

“For heaven’s sake, Callihan, can’t you see she’s his wife? And with a young’un on the way, too? What kind of a man are you, trying to take away from a widow and orphan?”

He flung his hand at Kaitlin. “What proof has she got?”

Sheriff Newell sucked his gum. “Well, you’ve got a good point there. How about it, Mrs. Stutz? You got a marriage license or something?”

Kaitlin pressed the handkerchief to her lips to hold in the curses burning her tongue. Darn that Tripp Callihan, he was ruining everything.

She clutched the handkerchief to her chest. “It was lost in the fire. Didn’t you know? No, of course you had no way of knowing. Our home—our little love nest, Harvey called it—burned to the ground right after he died.”

“Well, mercy ma’am, you’ve had your share of hardship, that’s for sure.”

Tripp snorted his disbelief. “Sheriff, you’re not going to fall for—”

“Hush up, Callihan. I’m the law in this town, and I say this here little lady deserves Harvey Stutz’s belongings. Besides, you’ve got no proof of your claim, either.” Sheriff Newell straightened his shoulders. “Believe me, if I thought for one second that she was lying, she’d be seeing the inside of my jail cells quick as a wink. Same goes for you, Callihan.”

Kaitlin gulped and pressed the handkerchief to her lips.

Sheriff Newell grunted. “Hell, maybe I ought to just give everything to the church.”

Tripp clamped his jaw shut and walked back to the corner.

“Now, let’s get this over with. I’m getting hungry for my supper. I don’t know what all the fuss is about, anyway. Harvey Stutz didn’t leave enough for anybody to be fighting over.” The sheriff pulled an envelope from the sack and handed it across the desk to Kaitlin. “There’s some money.”

Kaitlin’s heart lurched. “Cash?”

“Not much, but something to tide you over for a while.”

“Oh…”

“And a deed to some property over in Porter.”

Kaitlin eyed the envelope. “Property? What sort of property?”

The sheriff shook his head. “Don’t know. Didn’t look.”

“That’s all?”

“Well, yeah. Except for this.” He pulled a gold locket from the sack. “Looks like a family piece. I guess that’s what you’re looking for, huh? You don’t want those family things to get away.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Tripp tense as she took the locket from the sheriff. She ignored him. “It’s been passed down for generations. I want Little Harvey to have it when he gets grown.”

The sheriff dusted his hands together. “Well, that’s about it.”

Kaitlin felt Tripp’s hot gaze on her as she dropped the envelope and locket into the sack.

“Thank you for everything, Sheriff Newell. Goodbye.” Kaitlin headed for the door. Such a performance. Her mother would have been proud.

“Not so fast.” Sheriff Newell blocked her path. “There’s one more matter we need to get cleared up before you leave here.”

“A memorial service?”

“Yes, a memorial service.” Kaitlin pulled her wrapper closed over her chemise and pantalettes, and yanked the sash tight. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the eyelet curtains on the window, brightening the hotel room. “For my dear departed. The Sheriff thinks it’s what I want. It’s set for tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow!” Isabelle waved her arms wildly. “But we’re supposed to leave tonight! Tonight, Kaitlin, tonight! Miss Purtle will fire me if I’m not at work in her shop first thing tomorrow morning. She’ll fire me!”

“Don’t worry.” Kaitlin pulled the pins from her hair and shook her head, sending her thick tresses curling down her back. “You’ll leave this afternoon on the stage, just as we planned, and tomorrow after the service, I’ll leave too.”

“No, Kaitlin.” Isabelle shook her head frantically. “It’s dangerous. Somebody will figure out what you’re up to.”

Kaitlin dropped her hairpins on the washstand. “What else can I do? Tell the sheriff I don’t want a service for dear ol’ Harvey?”

“Let’s just sneak away. He probably wouldn’t recognize you, even if he saw you get on the stage.”

“And what if he does?” Kaitlin asked. She wouldn’t take the chance that the sheriff might give Stutz’s belongings to that Mr. Callihan, or turn it over to the church.

“Kaitlin, please, come with me—”

“No. It’s all settled. When you leave the hotel, pay for another night and asked them to send up a tray for me. I’ll stay here in the room until tomorrow and catch the midday stage after the service. What can go wrong?”

“A thousand things!”

Kaitlin picked up Isabelle’s carpetbag from the bed. “You’d better go before you miss the stage.”

Isabelle hesitated, then took the carpetbag. “All right. But you be careful.”

She opened the door. “I will. See you tomorrow.”

Kaitlin waved goodbye, then closed the door and turned the big metal key in the lock. She fell back against the wall, heaving a heavy sigh.

Darn that Harvey Stutz. Judging from what was in the sack the sheriff had given her, Harvey had spent nearly all of her money. Gambled it away, probably. But that deed to the property over in Porter might be promising, and the locket. If she sold them both, maybe she could get back the rest of her money.

Kaitlin’s spirits soared. Yes, she could get back her money—and her dream—after all.

A knock sounded at the door. Thank goodness the kitchen sent up her meal quickly. She was starved.

“Just leave the tray, please,” she called.

The knock sounded again, harder this time.

“You can leave the tray outside. Thank you.”

The pounding continued.

Kaitlin rolled her eyes. Good grief, was the kitchen help deaf?

Standing behind the door, she turned the key and opened it a crack. “I said, just leave—”

Tripp Callihan glared down at her.

“You’re a fraud and a liar, lady. And I can prove it.”

Chapter Two

Kaitlin threw her weight against the door, but Tripp was too fast and too strong. He pushed it open, sending her flying backward across the bed.

“Who do you think you are!” Kaitlin sprang to her knees in the center of the soft, feather mattress, anger flushing her cheeks. “Get out of here!”

He slammed the door shut and strode in the center of the room, his legs braced wide apart. “I’m not going anywhere, lady, until I get what I came here for.”

She pushed her tangled hair over her shoulder. “I’ve got nothing that belongs to you!”

“You’re a liar. You’re a—”

He stopped, his gaze homing in on her belly.

Kaitlin followed his line of vision to her wrapper gaping open, the sash hanging loose at her sides exposing her flat stomach. She gasped and crossed her hands over her middle.

His eyes narrow. “What happened to your baby?”

Kaitlin scrambled off the opposite side of the bed, her anger gone, ribbons of fear in its place. She gulped. “I—I gave birth.”

He advanced on her. “Yeah? Where’s the kid?”

Kaitlin backed away waving her hands around the room. “It’s here…somewhere.”

Tripp rounded the end of the bed. “Hell, you’re not even a good liar.”

Kaitlin pointed a finger at him. “Keep away from me.” She tried to sound harsh, threatening, but her voice was nothing more than a squeak.

She bumped into the corner and looked around frantically. There was no place to run. He towered over her. He came closer, hemming her in.

“I’ll scream. I’ll scream my head off and have everybody in the hotel up here.”

“Go ahead! Scream until you’re hoarse! Get the sheriff up here, too. I’m sure he’d love to hear you explain this.” Tripp grabbed a handful of her wrapper at her belly, and yanked it. Kaitlin fell against him.

Her arms wrapped around him, her nose burrowed into his neck. Her breasts, unbound, snuggled against his chest; her thighs brushed his.

Stunned, they both froze.

Fingers of fire raced through Kaitlin. He was hard and strong, muscles everywhere. He smelled like leather and soap.

Slowly, she lifted her face. His breath was hot on her cheeks, his eyes piercing. Kaitlin’s knees weakened. Afraid she’d fall, she shifted. The thick ridge beneath his fly settled intimately against her.

Her senses reeled. Her whole body tingled. Heat rolled off him in waves. She saw the quick intake of his breath, felt his muscles tense. She knew she should pull away, but couldn’t.

He pushed her away, gently, and stalked across the room. Kaitlin gulped and closed the sash of her wrapper with trembling hands.

He stood with his back to her for a moment, then turned and stepped behind the rocking chair in the corner. He pulled his hat lower on his forehead.

“Just give me what I came here for, lady, and I’ll go.

His voice was softer now, unsteady. Kaitlin didn’t trust herself to say anything, so she smoothed down her wrapper, reaching for a modicum of dignity.

Finally, she lifted her chin. “Everything Harvey Stutz had belongs to me, Mr. Callihan.”

His eyes narrowed. “So you’re in on his con games?”

“No!” Her back stiffened. “I most certainly am not. My name is Kaitlin Jeffers. I have an honest job and I come from a respectable family. I had nothing to do with Harvey Stutz, except to get everything I owned stolen by him. But I have it back now—part of it, at least.”

“That’s a lie. What you got from the sheriff belongs to me.”

“Oh?” She tossed her head.

“Where’s that sack the sheriff gave you?”

Tension coiled in Kaitlin’s stomach, and she knew she’d be wise to be scared of this man. But he could have hurt her already, and hadn’t. She’d felt the power he possessed. His touch was gentle; he was a man used to tempering his anger.

She pulled in a breath. “Those things are none of your business.”

He pointed to the bureau. “I’ll tear this place apart to find it, if I have to.”

She knew he was capable of doing just that. Still, she wouldn’t make it easy for him. Kaitlin planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not giving you anything.”

“It belongs to me.”

“It’s mine. And you can’t prove any different.”

He advanced on her. “Yeah? It belongs to you? Then what’s the inscription on the back of the locket?”

“Inscription?” Kaitlin shifted. There was an inscription on the locket? She hadn’t even taken time to look it over. “Well…”

“It says, ‘To my darling with all my love.’“ Tripp held out his palm. “Hand it over, Miss Jeffers.”

Obviously, the locket belonged to him. Darn. It would have fetched a good price. As much as she hated to see it go, it was only right.

For a moment she felt a kinship with Mr. Tripp Callihan, both taken advantage of by Harvey Stutz. Briefly she wondered what else the con man had taken from him, but doubted Tripp was the kind of man to divulge that.

Kaitlin opened the top drawer of the bureau and kept her back to him as she dug beneath her clothing. She glanced over her shoulder. “I had nothing to do with stealing this.”

He snorted his disbelief.

Kaitlin pulled the gold locket from the sack and turned it over in her hand. On the back was the inscription, just as Tripp had said.

She shrugged. “I guess it does belong to you.”

He snatched it from her hand and dropped it in his shirt pocket. “Now I want what else is mine.”

“But—”

Tripp jerked the sack from her hand.

“Hey! Give me that!”

She lunged for it, but he held it out of her reach, easily fending off her grabbing hands. He was so tall, so strong, she had no chance.

“Listen, Mr. Callihan. Let me explain.” Kaitlin drew in a deep breath. “Harvey Stutz stole my life savings—every cent of it. I’m just trying to get it back.”

“By pretending to be his widow—his pregnant widow?” He shook his head in disgust.

“Well, it worked. Or would have, if it hadn’t been for you.”

“Stutz stole from me, too.”

“Your life savings?”

He looked away. “Something like that.”

“You can have your locket. But the sheriff already said everything else belongs to me.”

“You want to get the sheriff involved again?” Tripp’s eyebrows drew together. “Fine. Let’s find out what he has to say when he sees you like this. Maybe you can explain exactly where your baby went.”

“You’re not exactly his favorite person either, Mr. Callihan.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“And what if Sheriff Newell decides not to give it to either of us? He threatened to give it to the church once already, remember? Both of us could end up with nothing.”

“Dammit…” Tripp walked across the room and stared through the window at the street below. “I didn’t wait all this time, and come all this way, to end up with nothing.”

Kaitlin didn’t say anything, just studied his profile outlined in the window. He looked grim.

Finally, he turned to her. “All right. We split everything fifty-fifty. Deal?”

“Fifty-fifty? No, I was thinking more like—”

“You’d rather I let the sheriff settle this?”

She huffed impatiently. There really was nothing she could do. At least this way she’d end up with something.

“All right. We’ll sell the business and split it down the middle. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Tripp strode across the room and opened the door. “We’ll head over to Porter at first light. Be ready.”

“Wait.” She braced her hand against the door. “How do I know you’ll be here in the morning? How do I know you won’t take off with the money and the deed?”

Tripp held up the sack. “You’ll have to trust me.”

“Trust you? I don’t even know you.”

He looked down at her belly. “At least I didn’t start off with a lie.”

Tripp left the room and slammed the door behind him.

Dawn’s first rays of light seeped over the horizon as Tripp dropped his satchel beside the front desk in the hotel lobby. A circular red velvet couch stood in the center of the room beneath an ornate chandelier. At the desk along the back wall, a man scrawled his name on the registration book while the clerk searched the cubby holes for a room key.

Tripp paused in the doorway of the hotel dining room, looking over the few customers already seated there. A couple of men wearing cravats and jackets, an old man with a dusty beard, a family with three wiggly children. An odd sense of disappointment crept over Tripp. No sign of Kaitlin Jeffers.

That proved it, he decided. She was a crook, just like Harvey Stutz. Probably hightailed it out of town during the night, fearing he’d go to the sheriff after all.

Tripp wound his way through the white-linencovered tables, ignoring the murmured conversations around him, and took a seat along the back wall. He hadn’t expected any different. Hadn’t he learned a long time ago how women act when things got tough?

Tripp tossed his black hat on the chair beside him and scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d hardly slept a wink last night. Worries, then dreams, kept him awake until nearly dawn. The worries he was used to. But the dreams—he hadn’t had dreams like that since he was a kid.

He shifted in. his chair as a familiar stirring claimed him, then looked around the room for a distraction from his own thoughts.

A woman stepped into the doorway of the dining room. Tripp drew in a sharp breath. God, she was the prettiest thing he’d seen in a month of Sundays, all done up in a green skirt with a matching print overskirt, and a blouse that hugged her breasts and outlined her trim waist. A green hat sat at a saucy angle among her dark curling hair.

Pressure behind his fly increased considerably as he watched her hips sway across the dining room. She took a seat at the corner table facing the wall, her back to the door.

A sweet scent wafted over him. Tripp reeled back in his chair. Good God, it was Kaitlin Jeffers.

What had happened to her? Brown eyes, so dark they reflected the light from the window, darted quickly around the room. Her oval face shone with full lips, soft delicate features, and porcelain skin. Why hadn’t he noticed those things last night?

Or maybe he had. Images that had frolicked in his dreams last night came back to him now with the same urgency.

Tripp turned his attention to two old men seating themselves at the table next to him, and listened to their conversation. He sure as hell needed something to occupy his attention. But his gaze drifted back to Kaitlin.

She looked all delicate and soft, tugging off her lace gloves, smoothing down her skirt, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. Womanly movements, feminine and artful, without trying to be. Tripp’s chest tightened.

She glanced at him, then looked away quickly.

“Miss Jeffers?” The words slipped from his lips before he realized it.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then looked away once more.

He knew damn good and well she’d seen him.

“Miss Jeffers?”

Kaitlin turned to him, her lips pursed, her brows furrowed. “Shh! Not so loud. I’m trying to be inconspicuous.”

How in the name of heaven did a woman as pretty as her think she could be inconspicuous in a little town like this?

“Look, Miss Jeffers—”

Her eyes bulged, silencing him, and she waved him over.

Slowly he walked to her little table in the corner, holding his hat in front of him.

Kaitlin huffed impatiently. “For heaven’s sake, sit down. You’ll have everybody in the room staring at me.”

Tripp lowered himself into the chair across from her. “Somebody you’re trying to avoid, Miss Jeffers?”

“As you so delicately pointed out last night, Mr. Callihan, it wouldn’t do me any good to be seen by Sheriff Newell in my…condition.”

“Or lack of it.”

“Exactly.”

Tripp pulled on his chin. “I figured you’d left town.”

“As if you should be so lucky.” Kaitlin smiled sweetly at him. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Mr. Callihan, until our business is settled.”

The serving girl stopped at their table and filled their cups with hot coffee.

“Give me steak and eggs with lots of potatoes and some biscuits.” Tripp gestured across the table. “Same for her.”

“Coming right up.” The serving girl smiled and left.

Tripp sipped his coffee. “So you’re still agreeable with the deal we made last night?”

“No, I’m not agreeable at all. I’d much prefer keeping everything for myself. But since half is the best I can do, I’ll settle for that.”

“I guess we might as well get down to business.” Tripp reached beneath his vest and pulled a small tablet from the pocket of his white shirt. He studied it for a moment. “I figure it’ll take us two hours to get to Porter this morning, about a half hour to find the place and look it over, then another hour to get it listed for sale.”

Kaitlin peered across the table. “You wrote that down?”

He flipped over to the next page. “Once the place is sold, we’ll meet, sign the papers, and divide up the profit. Any questions?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. It’s so complicated, I’m not sure I follow you.”

“We’ll take the deed to the bank and transfer it to both our names—just to be safe.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t trust me?”

He dropped his forearm on the table. “Look, Miss Jeffers, the sooner we get this over with, the better. I haven’t got time to fool around.”

“Nor have I, Mr. Callihan.” Kaitlin pushed her chin higher. “In fact, thanks to Harvey Stutz, I’ve had to change my plans considerably.”

He glared at her, then drank his coffee. He didn’t pursue her comment, didn’t really want to know what Harvey Stutz had done to her. Tripp couldn’t muster his compassion for another of the man’s victims; it just didn’t stretch that far.

The serving girl brought them plates of hot food.

Kaitlin wagged her finger at his pad of paper as she ate. “Do you have written down somewhere the kind of property we own?”

“A store.” He waved his fork toward her plate. “Eat your potatoes.”

She sat up straighter. “A store? Really?”

“Finish your meal. We’ve got to go.”

Tripp turned his attention to his plate, hoping to discourage any more conversation. The sooner he got this over with—and this woman out of his life—the better.

He paid for their meals, then followed Kaitlin’s bobbing bustle to the lobby. Tripp pulled his tablet from his shirt pocket, forcing himself to look at the notes he’d made.

“I checked the stage schedule last night. Nothing going to Porter until this afternoon. I’ll rent us a buggy down at the livery and pick you up out front in a few minutes.”

“I’ll meet you out back,” Kaitlin said.

Tripp shook his head in disgust. “If you hadn’t told a lie in the first place you wouldn’t have to hide from the sheriff.”

“Thank you so much for that pearl of wisdom, Mr. Callihan.” Kaitlin jerked up her carpetbag from beside the front desk and marched toward the back of the hotel.

* * *

The streets of Porter were quiet with a wagon or two lumbering along when Tripp and Kaitlin drove into town. A few men gathered outside the barber shop, cowboys and miners moseyed along, women and children moved down Main Street.

At the far edge of town Tripp halted the team at the blacksmith shop. The big double doors stood open; horses waited patiently in the corral.

Tripp set the brake and jumped to the ground. He strode away from the buggy drawing in deep breaths of hay, horses, and dust. Riding next to Kaitlin Jeffers, breathing in her sweetness for two solid hours had been torture. He wished he’d waited for the stage coach.

“Morning!” A tall, muscular, man around thirty years old walked out of the stable, smiling and pushing his blond hair off his forehead. “Name’s Rafe Beaumont. What can I help you with?”

“My horses need tending.” Tripp waved toward the team; he’d driven them harder than he should have, thanks to Kaitlin Jeffers’s scent.

Rafe stroked one of the horses’s thick neck and nodded toward Kaitlin. “You and the wife plan to be in town long?”

Kaitlin came to her feet. “We are not married.”

Rafe glanced back and forth between them and his cheeks turned red. “Oh…”

“We’re business partners,” she said.

“Oh!” Rafe looked relieved. “What sort of business?”

“Maybe you can help us with that.” Kaitlin gathered her skirts and turned to climb down from the buggy.

Tripp hurried over. “Hold on. Do you want to fall? You need to be more careful.” He caught her waist and lifted her to the ground.

Kaitlin shrugged out of his grasp. “We’re looking for a store, Mr. Beaumont.”

“Got a few of those in town.” Rafe smiled and patted the horse’s forehead.

“This one’s called Finch Dry Goods. Used to be owned by an Everette Finch.” Tripp nodded toward town. “Didn’t see it when we drove in.”

Rafe’s eyes widened. “You two bought Finch’s place?”

Tripp and Kaitlin glanced at each other.

“Let’s just say it’s ours now,” Tripp said.

“I can tell you how to find the place, but—”

“Rafe, why don’t you take them over there yourself?”

Two men walked out of the stable, grinning broadly. Like Rafe, they were tall, muscular and blond.

One of them slapped him on the back. “Yeah, Rafe, take these nice folks over to the Finch place.”

Rafe blushed and ducked his head. “These are my brothers, Ned and Wade.”

Greetings were exchanged and proper introductions made.

“So you’re the new owner of old man Finch’s place?” Wade asked. “Well, all I can say is good luck to you.”

Ned chucked Rafe on the shoulder, grinning. “Take them over there. Show them the store.”

Rafe shifted uncomfortably. “I got work to do here.”

“Ned and I will look after the place.” Wade elbowed him in the ribs. “And if you’re a little late getting back, we’ll understand.”

Ned and Wade both broke out laughing, bringing another blush to Rafe’s face.

Rafe grumbled under his breath. “All right. Let’s go.”

The late morning sun warmed the breeze as they walked the short distance to town. The men’s boots echoed on the wooden planks of the boardwalk drowning out the scuff of Kaitlin’s shoes as she walked between the two of them.

“Have you lived here long, Mr. Beaumont?” Kaitlin asked.

“Just call me Rafe. My family’s lived here a while. I took over the livery after our pa passed on.”. He gestured toward the street. “Yeah, Porter is a nice place, all right. Quiet. Not much going on. Your store’s right up here.”

Kaitlin’s heart thumped in her chest. Visions of her recaptured dream filled her mind.

Rafe flung out his hand. “Well, this is it.”

Kaitlin’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach.

Dust covered the boardwalk in front of the store. Dirt streaked the display windows beside the door, and several panes were broken. The shade over the windowed door hung askew.

Rafe shrugged apologetically. “I guess it doesn’t look like much on the outside.”

Her spirits lifted. “It’s better on the inside?”

“Well…no,” Rafe said. “Still want to look around?”

Kaitlin squared her shoulders. “Yes.”

Rafe pushed open the door. Cobwebs clung to the corners. Barren shelves dangled from the walls. A potbellied stove lay on its side. Gray ashes swirled in the slight breeze.

“It’s been empty for a while. Kids got in and tore it up,” Rafe said. “I guess it’s not what you expected.”

Kaitlin looked around. “No, not exactly.”

Tripp gazed down at her. “I don’t know what your dream was, Kaitlin, but you can kiss it goodbye.”

Chapter Three

“It just needs a little fixing up.”

Kaitlin gazed hopefully at the two men. Rafe offered her a sickly smile. Tripp snorted and turned away.

She walked slowly around the room. “It has possibilities.”

“To tell you the truth, old man Finch was never able to do much with the place. Tried to sell it, but never got a nibble,” Rafe said. “I heard he finally got rid of the place by betting it in a poker game, then losing on purpose.”

Kaitlin’s gaze collided with Tripp’s across the empty store. So that’s how Harvey Stutz had acquired the deed. It was small consolation to think that for once, Stutz had been the one getting conned.

“Of course, with a lot of hard work and a little luck, maybe you two can make a go of it,” Rafe said. “You—”

“Rafe?”

A young woman walked through the front door. Shapely and attractive, her blond hair gathered in a neat bun, she headed straight for Rafe.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” She reached for him.

Rafe backed up a step and caught her hands before they circled his waist. “I brought these folks over to look at the store. They’re the new owners.”

She turned to Kaitlin and Tripp. “New owners? Oh, how wonderful.”

Tripp tipped his hat and introduced Kaitlin and himself. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“This is Julia, my wife.” Rafe caught her hand as it splayed across his chest. “Just a minute now, darling. Julia owns the millinery shop next door. She makes hats.”

“You’ll have to come over, Kaitlin, and see the shop,” Julia said as she eased her bosom against Rafe’s side.

Rafe’s cheeks turned pink and he stepped away from her. “For a while we thought business would pick up some around here. There was talk of the railroad coming through. They even laid the tracks and started work on the depot. But then the railroad changed its mind, for some reason.”

Tripp nodded. “That’ll happen. I’ve got a friend working for the railroad. Never knows where he’ll be laying track next.”

“Porter is a real friendly town. You’ll like it here.” Julia gazed up at Rafe. “We sure like it here, don’t we?”

“I’ve got to get on back to work,” he said.

“So soon?” She eased up next to him again. “Things are real quiet at the shop, Rafe, and I’m not expecting anybody in until this afternoon. Why don’t you—”

“I’ve got work to do.” Rafe said, fending off her wandering hands. “If you need anything, Tripp, let me know.”

“I’ll do that,” Tripp said, as Rafe went out the door.

Julia hurried out after him. “Rafe? Wait!”

The heat seemed to leave the room with them, causing Kaitlin to shiver. She wandered around the store. This certainly wasn’t what she expected, although with Harvey Stutz involved she should have known better.

Why couldn’t it have been a nice, clean, prosperous store? Just once, couldn’t things have gone well for her? Did everything always have to be so hard? She’d worked diligently and suffered so many setbacks already. Briefly, she wondered if her dream was meant to come true.

Kaitlin drew in her resolve and squared her shoulders, reminding herself that those sorts of thoughts would do her no good. She had to continue on, to keep going.

Kaitlin turned to Tripp, standing at the broken remains of the counter.

“Well, I guess we’d better get to work,” she said.

“Get to work? Are you loco?” His eyes widened. “This place is hopeless.”

“We have to clean it before we offer it for sale. Who would buy it looking like this?”

He waved away her comments with his big hand. “Forget it. We’ll never see a dime from this place. Didn’t you hear Rafe say that the last owner couldn’t get rid of it? We’d be better off signing it over to the town before they charge us for tearing it down.”

Kaitlin’s mouth flew open, but she didn’t say anything. She’d had her own doubts a moment ago. Surely Tripp was entitled to the same feelings.

“I understand why you feel that way, Mr. Callihan. Just think it over a while longer.”

“I’ve already done all the thinking I need to do,” Tripp said. “Getting rid of this place is the only sensible thing.”

He meant it. She saw the determination etched in the hard lines of his face. He really wanted to walk away.

Kaitlin advanced on him. “I have plans, Mr. Callihan, and those plans require money. This is the only chance I have to get back what Harvey Stutz stole from me, and I’m not walking out on it.”

He glared down at her. “I’ve got plans of my own, Miss Jeffers, but I’m not crazy enough to think I’ll get anywhere with this place.”

“I’m not about to give up my dream.”

He studied her for a moment. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

She pushed her chin higher. “We’ll fix it up and run it ourselves. It’s the only possible solution.”

“Look at this place.” Tripp waved his arms around the room. “It’s got to be scrubbed from top to bottom. The shelves have to be replaced, the counter rebuilt, the walls painted. Part of the floor’s rotted—probably because the roof leaks. And that’s only what’s wrong with this section of the building. God only knows what needs doing in the back room and upstairs.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy.”

He stalked away, then turned back to her. “Besides, I don’t know the first thing about a store. Do you?”

She slid her finger across her lips. “Of course.”

Tripp eyed her for a long moment, his brow furrowed, his gaze intent. Finally, he shook his head.

“Look, Miss Jeffers, if you want to get your money back, why don’t you just get a job somewhere? You can earn back what Stutz took from you.”

“And what sort of work would you suggest, Mr. Callihan? What job could a woman get to earn that kind of money?”

Tripp shrugged his wide shoulders. “Restaurants are always needing serving girls. And hotels need somebody to clean.”

“I’ve worked those types of jobs, Mr. Callihan, for pennies a day. Pennies,” Kaitlin said. “It took years for me to save up what Harvey Stutz stole in one night. I don’t want to wait that long again.”

Kaitlin pressed her lips together. “We both know there’s only one profession where a woman can earn good money.”

Tripp straightened, his expression grim. “Don’t talk like that. That’s no kind of life for a woman like you.”

The intensity of his words stunned her. She’d certainly never considered turning to prostitution, but did envy the whores their money.

Kaitlin shrugged. “You can see that my choices are limited. Running my own business is the only chance I have to earn the money I need. You have to agree with that.”

Tripp stepped away. Obviously, he wasn’t ready to coneede anything.

“Fine.” Kaitlin squared her shoulders. “Just sign over the deed to me and I’ll run it myself.”

His frown deepened. “You can’t fix up this place by yourself. It’s too much work. You’ll hurt yourself.”

She tilted her head. “Maybe you’re afraid I’ll succeed?”

Tripp glared down at her. “That wasn’t my first thought.”

“Maybe it should be.” Kaitlin pushed past him and strode to the middle of the room. “Look, all we have to do is run the store long enough to earn back the money Harvey Stutz stole from us. I saw only one store when we passed through town. This place is hungry for variety. And what about those ranches and miners near here, and those small settlements? We’ll pull in people from miles around.”

Tripp stared at her, unconvinced.

Kaitlin kept going. “Everybody will come. The novelty of a new store will draw them in. They’ll buy. We’ll be lucky to keep stock on the shelves, and we’ll make a big profit very quickly. Once we’ve done that, we can list the store for sale and go our separate ways. If it never sells—who cares? We’ll have our money.”

Tripp paced back and forth in front of the toppled stove, rubbing his chin. He stopped and looked at her again.

“I’m hungry.”

“Hungry?” Kaitlin threw her hands up. “Haven’t you been listening? How can you think of food at a time like—”

Tripp strode out the door without a look back.

Two blocks down the street he slowed enough to glance around. The town of Porter was much like other towns he’d seen. Good people. Churchgoers, businessmen who didn’t cheat their customers, families planting roots. As towns went, Porter didn’t seem so bad.

Tripp went inside the Red Rose Cafe on the corner, took a seat at a table near the front window, but didn’t look out. He needed to think.

Propping his elbows on the red-checkered table cloth, Tripp dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. No, he didn’t want to think. There was nothing to think about.

An older woman with an apron spanning her considerable girth stopped at his table. “We’ve got chicken or ham today. What will it be?”

“Both.”

Lately, all he wanted to do was eat. A craving had come over him and he couldn’t control it.

“Sure thing.” The woman disappeared into the kitchen.

Tripp scrubbed his palms over his face, refusing to think about the general store down the street he’d just left. He’d made up his mind. The whole idea was crazy. It would never work.

The image of Kaitlin Jeffers flashed into his mind. Headstrong, determined, resourceful…beautiful.

Tripp slumped in the chair. Looks meant nothing. And neither did any of those other qualities. Any woman could display them. But how many would act on them when things got tough, when plans didn’t turn out as expected?

A deep ache settled over him, old and familiar. He allowed those feelings to wash through him. It was good to be reminded, from time to time. Good not to forget.

He drew in a deep breath. For all her talk of dreams and plans, Kaitlin Jeffers would forget the whole thing at the first sign of trouble. And Tripp didn’t intend to be left behind to pick up the pieces. Again.

Belly full of chicken, ham, vegetables, corn bread and two slices of peach pie, Tripp ambled down the boardwalk. When he reached the store, he cringed; the place looked worse every time he saw it.

Reaching for the doorknob he stopped. Singing. He heard singing. Looking up and down the street Tripp saw nothing, then peered into the store through the crooked shade over the door. In the middle of the floor, all alone, Kaitlin waltzed back and forth. Gracefully she swayed, her sweet voice rising in a lovely melody.

Tripp pushed open the door and walked inside. “Did you hit your head or something while I was gone?”

“Of course not, Mr. Callihan.” She finished her dance and smiled up at him. “Don’t you know you can dance on air when your dreams come true?”

God, she looked pretty. So full of hope and wonder and optimism. Tripp rubbed his hand across his belly. How could he feel hungry again?

“Let me tell you what I’ve decided on for the store.” Kaitlin gestured toward the back wall. “I’ll put candy jars on the back counter, and along the other walls, fabric and linens. The display windows will be for the newest merchandise, of course, and in that corner I’ll put—”

“Hold on a minute. You don’t really think you can make a go of this place, do you?”

Kaitlin smiled up at him. “Mr. Callihan, that’s exactly what I intend to do, with or without your help.”

Tripp looked around the dismal store. “You believe you can turn a profit here?”

Kaitlin glided past him. “Too bad you won’t be here to share it. Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind.”

Tripp watched her move about the store, her bustle bobbing as she thoughtfully considered each angle of the room. He cleared his throat.

“So, you know about running a store?” he asked.

She looked back over her shoulder at him. “A display of dishes and pottery would look good right inside the door, don’t you think?”

Tripp rubbed his chin. “And where do you plan to get the money to fix this place up and buy inventory?”

“From the cash that Harvey left behind. I’ve got a little money put away, too, money I’ve saved since Harvey took everything I had. It’s not enough to replace what he stole from me. But total, it’s enough to do the repairs to the store and buy the inventory. That’s all I need to get started.”

Tripp shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“It’s called investing,” Kaitlin said. “It’s not so unusual. I’ll invest in this store, earn back my money, plus make a profit—all the money I need to make my dream come true.”

“Do you really think you can do that?”

“Of course,” Kaitlin said. “And best part is that this way I can earn the money quickly. A new store will make tons of money when it first opens. There’s no other respectable way I can do that. And I’m not willing to wait years again, working for a few dollars a week.”

Tripp stepped closer. “You intend to drop everything and move here with the wild notion of running a store?”

“Running a store can hardly be called a wild notion, Mr. Callihan,” Kaitlin said. “But I suppose you’re too busy to speculate on a blossoming business opportunity like this. You already have a business, I suppose?”

“Well…no.”

“You’re working someplace special, then?”

“Not exactly.” Tripp pushed his hat higher on his forehead. “Don’t you have a family, or a job, or something?”

“If I had a family I would have asked them for money long ago and already been living my dream,” Kaitlin said. “I do have a job that I’ll be more than happy to quit.”

She nodded toward the torn curtain in the doorway along the back wall. “There’s lots of storage space for stock. We’ll need it, once word gets out that we’re here.”

Tripp glared at her, then shook his head. “This whole idea is loco, just plain loco.”

“Suit yourself, Mr. Callihan.” She shrugged. “Of course, it would be a shame for you to miss out on this opportunity, when you were so close. Maybe I can find another partner.”

“Another partner?” Tripp’s shoulders stiffened.

She brushed past him. “Yes, someone who isn’t afraid of a little hard work.”

“Now hold on a minute. I’m not afraid of hard work. Hard work has nothing to do with this.” Tripp rounded on her. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Me!” Kaitlin’s eyes widened. “You’re worried about me?”

“Hell, yes.” Tripp pointed toward the front door. “I’m not partnering with somebody who’s going to run out on me at the first sign of trouble.”

Irritated to no end, Kaitlin stretched up until her nose was even with his chin. After what he’d seen her do in the past twenty-four hours, he thought she wasn’t committed to her goals?

“Maybe you hadn’t noticed, Mr. Callihan, but you’re the one who keeps backing away from this deal—not me!”

Tripp reeled away. Good God, she was right.

Silence hung in the still, cool room. Minutes dragged by while they contemplated each other. Finally, Tripp drew in a deep breath.

“So you intend to see this thing through?” he asked.

Kaitlin nodded confidently. “I’ll have my dream, Mr. Callihan, and not you, or Harvey Stutz, or a room full of cobwebs is going to stop me.”

She offered her hand. “So how about it? Is it a deal?”

Tripp gazed at her outstretched hand. God knows, he’d be crazy to accept an offer like this. The store was a losing proposition if he’d ever seen one. Hell, he’d be better off walking out the door now while he still could.

But Kaitlin…Kaitlin burned with determination. Kaitlin caused something to flicker inside him. That determination, surely.

Tripp grasped Kaitlin’s hand, soft, delicate, fragile. A knot jerked in his stomach.

“It’s a deal,” Tripp said, and wished to God he’d never touched her.

“A little more to the right. That’s it…just a little more. Stop. Perfect.”

Kaitlin nodded with satisfaction as Rudy Langley positioned her big oval mirror in the corner of her new bedroom. Not the biggest room in the world, or in the store, but it was perfect for her, situated off the kitchen in the back room of her new business enterprise.

“Thanks, Rudy.”

Isabelle’s harness-and-pregnancy-making brother nodded and glanced around the room. “I guess that’s everything.”

“Everything but a dose of good sense.” Isabelle pursed her lips as she opened the lid of Kaitlin’s trunk.

“Honestly, Isabelle, you worry too much.” Kaitlin grabbed a handful of pantalettes from her carpetbag and shoved them into the bureau drawer. “What can go wrong?”

“A thousand things!” Isabelle waved her arms wildly.

Kaitlin turned to Rudy. “Talk to your sister. Make her understand.”

He backed away. “I just came to drive the team and unload your things. You two can fight this out on your own.” Rudy disappeared out the door.

Kaitlin pushed more of her belongings into the bureau drawer. “Nothing will go wrong.”

“Kaitlin, listen to reason.” Isabelle followed her across the room. “You don’t know this man. What if he’s a murderer? What if he was in prison? What if he’s one of those men who…takes advantage of women?”

Kaitlin stopped at the armoire. “Mr. Callihan hardly seems the type. But if it will make you feel better, when he gets here I’ll ask him if he’s ever killed anyone.”

Isabelle shook her head frantically. “Please, be serious about this.”

“Listen, Isabelle, if Mr. Callihan were a criminal, he certainly wouldn’t have showed up in Sheriff Newell’s office to claim Harvey Stutz’s belongings, now would he?”

“Well, maybe not.” Isabelle eyes narrowed. “But how do you know he won’t run off with your money like Harvey Stutz did? Hmm? How do you know that?”

Kaitlin shook out the pink skirt she pulled from the trunk and hung it in the armoire. Tripp Callihan could have run off with everything—cash and deed—the night he’d left her in the hotel, but he hadn’t.

“He seems like an honest man. He gave me his word, and I believed him.”

“His word?” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “And I suppose you shook hands, too?”

A hot rush crackled through Kaitlin at the memory of Tripp’s big, strong hand, closing over hers. It had sealed their deal in a way she hadn’t expected.

Kaitlin turned quickly to the armoire again. “Isabelle, you worry too much.”

“Of course I worry too much!” Isabelle wrung her hands together. “Think about what you’re doing. A partnership with a man you hardly know—a man you’ll be living with here in this store, all alone. Kaitlin, what will the townspeople think of you? Have you considered that?”

Her hands stilled on the blue blouse she pulled from her trunk. Color stung her cheeks, but she forced it down.

“Mr. Callihan and I are business partners. That’s all. The townspeople will just have to accept it. And once they’ve been in the store and seen what’s going on, no one will think any differently.”

“People talk, Kaitlin.”

“Well, let them talk.” She closed the trunk. “This is what I must do to get my money back. And if things go as planned, I won’t be in town long enough to care what anyone thinks.”

“Kaitlin, please, think this over.”

Reaching out, Kaitlin took her friend’s hands. “Stop worrying, Isabelle. Everything will be fine.”

Isabelle’s shoulders slumped. “All right. But if you need anything, you let me know. Rudy and I will come right over. It’s only a few hours’ drive.”

Kaitlin smiled. Isabelle had been her friend since they were just girls. They’d been through a great deal together. She didn’t know how she would have managed the trip to Porter—and a lot of other things—without her help.

Rudy stepped into the doorway of the bedroom. “We’d better go. Need anything else before we leave, Kaitlin?”

She gazed at the bedroom. Since Isabelle and Rudy had driven her to Porter this morning, they’d spent most of the day cleaning. Now, filled with her brass bed, bureau, mirror and armoire, the room looked a little more like home.

“No, Rudy, you’d better go if you want to get back before dark.” Kaitlin stretched up and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for everything.”

Rudy ducked his head and grinned. “We’ll miss you.”

Kaitlin led the way through the kitchen—which they hadn’t touched yet—and out the back door. Across the little dirt alley stood a small barn and corral. Rudy’s wagon waited at the edge of the covered boardwalk.

“When is that Mr. Callihan supposed to get here?” Isabelle gazed down the alley, past the rear of the other businesses that faced Main Street.

“We agreed to meet here today. I’m sure he’s on his way.”

Isabelle’s eyes narrowed as if she doubted it.

“He’ll be here.” Kaitlin urged her toward the wagon and stepped back onto the boardwalk. “Goodbye. Thanks again.”

“Remember what I said,” Isabelle called as she settled into the wagon seat.

Rudy climbed aboard and tipped his hat as he headed the team down the alley. Kaitlin stood on the boardwalk, watching and waving until her friends disappeared from view.

After they were gone, she stood there a while longer. The town seemed suddenly quiet now, the breeze cooler. Clouds drifted over the afternoon sun turning everything a pale gray. Vague sounds from the street wafted through the air; somewhere, a dog barked.

Kaitlin glanced down the alley. Suddenly, she wished Tripp Callihan would get here. Odd, but it wasn’t like her to think such thoughts. She’d been alone for so long now, she was used to it.

No, she was just in a hurry to get the store ready, she decided. Kaitlin nodded confidently and brushed her hands together. Yes, that was the reason she was so anxious to see Tripp Callihan.

Kaitlin went inside the store and dumped the last of her clothing out of the carpetbag and onto the bed. As she sorted through them she heard the jangle of harness and the creak of a wagon out back.

Kaitlin hurried through the kitchen and opened the back door. High on the wagon seat sat Tripp, his black Stetson pulled low on his forehead, his shoulders straight, his hands holding the team steady.

“You came,” Kaitlin said, stepping outside. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”

He set the brake and tied off the reins, then jumped to the ground and stretched his long legs. “I gave you my word, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.” Kaitlin waved at the back of his wagon, loaded with furniture and crates. “I can see that now.”

Tripp reached into the wagon just behind the seat and a child sat up. The little boy yawned and ground his fists into his eyes, then raised his arms to Tripp. He lifted him from the wagon and set him on the boardwalk.

Kaitlin stared at the dark-haired child dressed in black suspendered pants and a rumpled white shirt. Finally she looked up at Tripp.

He glowered at her from beneath the brim of his hat.

“He’s my son.”

Chapter Four

She’d expected most anything from Tripp Callihan—a change in the terms of their deal, not showing up at all, actually turning out to be a convicted murder. But a child?

Kaitlin knelt in front of the boy. He was a beautiful child. Black hair, like Tripp’s. Deep-blue eyes, the same hue as his father’s. The family resemblance hidden in the boy’s soft face made Tripp’s features harder, sharper.

Kaitlin glanced up at him, towering over them both. He looked big, powerful, masculine. That strong chin and straight nose, those intelligent eyes would be the child’s someday. It was only a matter of time.

She smiled at the boy as he rubbed his eyes again. “What’s your name?”

He latched on to Tripp’s trouser leg and looked up at him.

“This is Miss Kaitlin.” Tripp touched his hand to the back of the boy’s head. “It’s all right to talk to her.”

“Charlie.” His forehead wrinkled in a little frown. “And you can’t call me Charles ‘cause Papa gets mad.”

Kaitlin grinned and glanced up at Tripp. “We certainly don’t want that to happen, now do we?”

“Uh-uh.” Charlie shook his head emphatically.

“How old are you?”

“Six.”

“My, but you’re a big boy for six.”

Charlie looked past her to the store. “You got any kids?”

Kaitlin rose and shook her head. “No. Sorry.”

“Papa?” He tugged on Tripp’s trouser leg. “I’m thirsty.”

“Come on, Charlie.” Kaitlin reached for his hand. “I’ll take you inside and get you a—”

“No.” Tripp dropped his hand on the boy’s shoulder and looked Kaitlin hard in the eye. “I take care of him.”

Kaitlin stepped out of the way. “Sorry…”

She followed them inside the store and found Tripp holding the boy up to the sink while he pumped water; Charlie stuck his mouth under the flow, lapping it with his tongue. Tripp set him down, then cupped his hand under the water and rubbed it over his face.

“Can I go outside, Papa?” Charlie asked.

Tripp pulled a handkerchief from his hip pocket and wiped his face. “Stay by the wagon. Nowhere else.”

“I will, Papa.”

Kaitlin stepped aside as the boy scooted out the door. She nodded outside.

“Have you got a wife inside that wagon, too?”

Tripp frowned at her. “No.”

“Will she be joining us later?”

His frown deepened as he shoved his handkerchief into his hip pocket. “No.”

Kaitlin stepped closer. “Will she—”

“It’s just Charlie and me.” Tripp dragged the sleeve of his pale blue shirt across his face. “We’d better get down to business.”

Obviously, he didn’t intend to give her more details and, really, it wasn’t any of her business. But the deep pain she saw in his blue eyes for a fraction of a second told Kaitlin a great deal of what she needed to know.

“Yes, I guess we should.” She motioned out the door. “We’ll get your wagon unloaded, then we can—”

“Hold on. We need to talk about a few things first.”

“Talk?” Kaitlin waved her hand outside. “There’s only a few hours of daylight left and lots to do. We can talk later.”

“No, now. There’re some things we have to get straight, and I’m not unloading my wagon until we do.”

Kaitlin huffed impatiently. “Fine.”

Tripp walked to the rickety table leaning against the wall, wiped the dust away with his handkerchief and righted two crates at either end.

“Sit down.”

Kaitlin waved her arms around the room. “Couldn’t we discuss this while we work?”

He blinked at her, taken aback by her questioning. “No. First things first.”

She perched on the edge of the crate, holding on to her patience. “Well, just hurry, will you?”

Instead, Tripp walked across the room and looked out the back door.

“Don’t play on that, son, you might fall.”

He stood there a moment longer, watching, then strode to the table and sat down across from her, the crate beneath him groaning.

“Now, let’s see.” Tripp pulled a small tablet from the pocket of his shirt. “First, I want to go over our partnership agreement.”

Kaitlin sighed heavily. “We’ve gone over that already. We split everything fifty-fifty, and sell out when we’ve made our money back.”

Tripp shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“If it were any more simple, a dog with thumbs could run the place.”

Tripp glared at her, then flipped to the next page. “I’ve done some figuring on expenses—repairs, buying the inventory, things like that. We need to decide on a budget.”

Kaitlin shrugged. “We’ll spend what money we have, and that should be enough to get things going.”

“What the hell kind of idea is that?” Tripp reared back.

“What more can I tell you, Mr. Callihan? I’m putting every dime I have in the world into this place. Aren’t you?”

“All the more reason for us to make a plan.”

She bit down on her lip. “We have a plan.”

“We need to decide on the extent of the repairs, how much we can spend on them, what kind of inventory to buy.” Tripp tapped his finger on the tablet. “We have a lot of decisions to make.”

Kaitlin pressed her lips together, holding in her rising temper. “Are you this methodical about everything you do, Mr. Callihan?”

Their gazes collided, and the implication of what everything might entail sprang up between them as if it were a living thing. Kaitlin blushed and looked away. Tripp cleared his throat and shifted on the crate.

“Well, uh, maybe this can wait a while,” Tripp said.

“Good idea.” Kaitlin hopped off the crate and hurried across the room.

“As long as we’re straight on this deal.”

She whirled around. “You’ve made your position perfectly clear, Mr. Callihan. And the fact that I want to get to work while you want to discuss things should prove my position. Now, can we please get your wagon unloaded?”

Tripp just looked at her, all puffed up with emotion. His belly began to ache.

“All right, let’s get to work.” He headed across the room. “Are you hungry?”

“Hungry?” Kaitlin shook her head and hurried out the door. “Good grief.”

Tripp opened the tailgate of the wagon and unloaded some of the lighter items onto the boardwalk, crates, cane-back chairs, a trunk, a small table. Charlie scooted over.

“Can I help, Papa?”

Tripp handed him a small box. “Take it inside. And be careful.”

“I figured you’d use the room upstairs,” Kaitlin said as she picked up a chair. “We’ll need all the space downstairs for the stock.”

Tripp lifted one of the heavier crates. “Let’s have a look.”

Inside the kitchen, Charlie waited at the door to Kaitlin’s bedroom.

“That room’s mine, Charlie,” Kaitlin said. “You and your papa will be upstairs.”

They placed the items they carried on the other side of the kitchen, and Kaitlin led the way up the narrow staircase. The room was dirty like the rest of the place, with two windows along the back wall.

Tripp walked around studying the floor, ceiling and corners while Charlie ran to the window and looked out.

“Are we gonna have this room, Papa?”

Kaitlin stood in the center of the room watching Tripp circle around her. “It’s plenty big enough for you both.”

“I like it, Papa.” Charlie bounced on his toes.

“If you don’t want it, you can look at the room downstairs.” Kaitlin pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Gracious, this man took forever to decide anything. She felt her patience slipping away. “Mr. Callihan, do you like the room, or not?”

Tripp continued to pace. How could a room this dirty, closed up for this long, smell so sweet? His gaze landed on Kaitlin. She was how, of course.

The room that appeared so large only a second ago seemed to shrink around him. Tripp headed for the staircase. “The room’s fine. I’ll get the wagon unloaded.”

“Good idea,” Kaitlin muttered as she followed him down the steps. “I wish I’d thought of that.”

Tripp was already lifting items from the wagon when she reached the back boardwalk. He held up his hand.

“You go inside. I’ll take care of this.”

She reached for another chair. “It will go faster if we work together.”

“No, you might hurt yourself.”

Tripp reached for the chair and his hands brushed hers. He jumped back. God, she was soft.

Kaitlin moved away, carrying the chair. “I’ll be fine.”

But she wasn’t really fine. Kaitlin hurried into the store, her stomach in jitters. What was wrong with her?

She put the chair in the corner and drew in a deep breath. Something about Tripp Callihan put her on edge. At first she’d thought it was only that he was helping her reach her long sought after dream, but now…

Kaitlin squared her shoulders. This wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Too much needed doing.

Outside, standing in the wagon, Tripp focused all his energy and thoughts on his work. But it was so damn hard. Time after time Kaitlin appeared, bending over, stretching, lifting. It just wasn’t right that a woman could smell so sweet and look so pretty while working. How was he supposed to concentrate?

“Hello, neighbor!”

Rafe and Julia Beaumont stepped out the rear entrance of their millinery shop next door, waving.

“Could you use some help?” Rafe asked.

“Sure could.” Tripp leaned against, the bedsprings. “Things slow down at the livery?”

Rafe inclined his head toward the west. “I was down looking at the widow Smith’s mare when I saw -you drive by. Figured you could use some help.”

“That’s a fact.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen him so early in the day in a month of Sundays.” Julia smiled sweetly at her husband and rubbed her palm up his arm.

Rafe blushed and eased away from her. “Let’s get these things unloaded.”

“Papa! Papa!”

Charlie ran out the back door, then slid to a stop when he saw Julia and Rafe.

“What’s wrong, son?”

“Miss Kaitlin has cookies. Can I have one?”

Kaitlin stepped out of the store and smiled at Rafe and Julia. “Thanks for coming by.”

“Please, Papa? Please?” Charlie hopped up and down.

A big smile spread over Julia’s face and she went to Charlie. “Oh, he’s adorable. Look, Rafe, isn’t he sweet? Oh, I can’t wait until we have one of our own.”

Rafe blushed and jumped up into the wagon. “We’ve got work to do.”

Tripp pulled off his hat and wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve. “What kind of cookies are they?”

Kaitlin ground her lips together then replied, “Oatmeal.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, Charlie, you can have a cookie. But just one. Don’t spoil your supper.”

“I’d like you three to eat with us tonight,” Julia said. “I’ve got chicken in the oven.”

Kaitlin nodded. “Thanks. I think Mr. Callihan is hungry already.”

She gave him a smile and went inside the store. Julia followed her in and looked the place over. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Kaitlin nodded in agreement The kitchen needed a thorough cleaning from top to bottom before anything could be unpacked or a single meal, cooked.

“Let’s get started,” Julia said; picking up a broom.

“But don’t you have work to do in your shop?”

She shrugged. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

Kaitlin smiled. “Thanks.”

“So,” Julia asked as she swept, “you and Tripp are partners?”

Kaitlin pumped water into a wooden bucket. She’d known questions of this nature would come up. “Business partners. Strictly business.”

“That’s right.” Tripp’s voice sounded from the doorway.

He walked into the kitchen carrying another crate. Rafe followed him inside.

“We’re just running the store together,” Tripp said. “That’s all.”

“Papa?” Charlie pulled on Tripp’s trouser leg. “How come ladies’ underwear has bows on it?”

A stunned silence fell. All eyes riveted Tripp.

He gulped. “What?”

“See?” Charlie pointed into the bedroom. “Miss Kaitlin’s underwear has pink bows. How come?”

Without wanting to, Tripp gazed into her room at the white garments piled in the middle of the bed. Soft, delicate, womanly things.

“Uh, well, uh…” Tripp pulled at his shirt collar. “We’ll talk about that later.”

Tripp took Charlie’s hand and hurried out the door, Rafe on his heels.

Over the next several hours they unloaded the wagon, cleaned the upstairs bedroom and moved the furniture in, a bureau and washstand, a small bed in one corner, a double across the room. The kitchen was half done when hunger overcame everyone and they went next door to Julia’s to eat.

The back room was small but cozy, with a lace tablecloth, fresh flowers, and the delicious smell of roasted chicken in the air. They settled around the table.

“When do you think you’ll open the store?” Julia asked as she passed the biscuits.

“Don’t know, exactly.” Tripp spooned peas onto Charlie’s plate, then took some for himself. “I have to do some figuring on that.”

“Well, it can’t be soon enough to suit me,” Julia said. “I’m so glad you’re here. Porter needs another store—and a lot of other things.”

Rafe shook his head. “I don’t know. Some townsfolk were glad when the railroad changed its mind and didn’t come through here. Didn’t like the notion of all those new people coming in. You never know what kind of folks you’ll get.”

“I think it would have been good for Porter,” Julia said. “It certainly would have helped my business.”

Rafe chuckled. “I guess if the railroad had come through town, you two wouldn’t have ended up with old man Finch’s store.”

Kaitlin and Tripp glanced at each other across the table.

“I wonder if he sold his other property here in town?” Rafe asked. “He owned a lot of land.”

“Good riddance to him, I say. A grumpier, more hateful old man I’ve never met.” Julia nodded. “Mr. Finch hasn’t been back to Porter in months. I hope he’s gone forever.”

“He’ll be mighty surprised if he comes back and sees how well our store is doing.” Kaitlin nodded confidently.

“We’ll have to see how things go.” Tripp looked down at Charlie beside him. “Eat your vegetables, son.”

“Things will go well,” Kaitlin said. “I just know it.”

“Well,” Tripp said, “we’ll have to see.”

They finished supper, and while Kaitlin and Julia cleaned the kitchen, Tripp and Rafe went outside to check on the horses.

“Come on, Charlie,” Tripp called from the door.

The boy rubbed his eyes and slid down from the kitchen chair.

“Charlie can stay with us,” Kaitlin said.

Tripp shook his head. “No. Charlie stays with me. Come on, son.”

Julia followed the boy to the door and closed her hand over Rafe’s arm. “You won’t be out late, will you?”

He eased her fingers away. “I’ll be back in a while.”

The men went outside, with Charlie running ahead of them. It was dark now, with only lanterns from the back windows of the shops to light the way.

Rafe stopped a short distance down the boardwalk. “I ought to apologize for Julia.”

“Apologize for what? She seems like a nice woman, a good wife.”

Rafe shook his head. “She’s pretty headstrong, if you get my meaning.”

He’d never known a woman more headstrong than Kaitlin Jeffers, but didn’t think that was exactly what Rafe meant.

“Damn…” Rafe hesitated to speak, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Julia just won’t keep her hands off of me. You know what I’m saying?”

Tripp’s gut tightened. “What?”

“Every time I turn around, there she is. Every morning. Every evening. Every time I get near her, she’s wanting to—Well, you know.” The man blushed.

Tripp’s mouth went dry. “Every time?”

“Every time.” Rafe sighed heavily. “But I’ve got a business to run. I’m at the livery before dawn, and most times I work straight through until after dark. You know what I’m saying, don’t you? I mean, seeing that you’ve got little Charlie, you must have been married once. Did you have this problem?”

Hell no, he hadn’t had this problem. In fact, he didn’t even understand why Rafe considered it a problem.

“So you don’t like making love to your wife?” Tripp asked.

“No, it’s not that.” Rafe shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe what that woman does to get me into bed with her. Why, just this morning I was trying to shave and here she came. Took my shaving soap, and before I knew what was happening, she had her top off and the lather all over her.”

Tripp gulped. “Shaving soap?”

“I told her I had to go to work.” Rafe grunted. “She needs to realize I haven’t got time for that stuff.”

Tripp’s jaw sagged. “You mean you didn’t…?”

“That’s the last thing I need, coming in to work late. Shoot, my brothers give me hell about Julia as it is.” Rafe nodded solemnly. “Lucky you’ve got a business partner and not a wife. You don’t have those problems.”

Heat pulsed through Tripp. He dragged his hand across his forehead. Oh yeah, he felt like the luckiest man on earth, all right.

Chapter Five

At the big oval mirror in the corner of her room Kaitlin studied herself from head to toe, turned in a quick circle, and headed for the door. With all the work she had planned for today, she looked good enough.

Stepping into the kitchen, she saw Tripp at the stove tending a pan of frying bacon. She wasn’t sure which -was more disconcerting—seeing him first thing in the morning, or seeing him cooking.

“Looks like I got the best end of this partnership.”

Tripp jumped, then ran his hand over his chest. “How’s that?”

“I won’t have to do all the cooking.” Kaitlin smiled and walked over to the stove.

He turned his back to her. “I cook for Charlie and me.”

Kaitlin peered around him. “What happened to your chin?”

Tripp touched his finger to his face, and turned away again. “I cut myself shaving this morning, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Kaitlin gestured to the rolled-out biscuits and the bowl of eggs on the sideboard. “What can I do to earn my share of this meal?”

Tripp glanced back over his shoulder at her. “You can—” He sucked in a quick breath. She wasn’t wearing a bustle.

The fabric of her simple blue dress hung in loose folds from her waist, draping her hips with clarity. He groaned softly as an all too familiar stirring coiled inside him.

Bad enough that he’d lain awake most of the night smelling her sweet scent all the way in his room, and that he’d cut his chin just looking at his shaving soap a while ago, but did Kaitlin have to be running around this morning dressed—or hardly dressed—like that?

“Well?” Kaitlin stepped closer, her eyebrows raised. “What can I do to help?”

Putting on some decent undergarments would sure as hell help. Tripp turned back to the stove. “Nothing. I’ll take care of it.”

“But that’s not right. We’re partners. I should do my share. I’ll put the biscuits in the oven.”

“No!” Tripp whirled around and pulled the pan from her hand. No, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t bend over right there next to him at the stove.

Kaitlin shrank back and eyed him up and down. “I’ll just set the table.”

“Good. That’s good. You do that.” Tripp shoved the biscuits into the oven and slammed the door. He reached over the pump and pushed the window all the way open. Damn, it was hot in here.

“Do you remember where the plates are?” Kaitlin asked.

Tripp turned to find her bending down, rummaging through the crates that lined the wall, her round bottom bouncing up and down, and up and down as she searched box after box. He sagged against the sideboard and mopped his brow with his sleeve.

What was wrong with him? Tripp watched her, savoring every move, every rustle of her skirt. He hadn’t been so randy since—well, he couldn’t even remember the last time.

Maybe it was just the things Rafe had talked to him about last night. Of course, Rafe and Julia had been the furthest thing from his mind when he’d stared at his shaving cup this morning, and nicked his own chin. And it hadn’t been the two of them who had crept into his thoughts as he lay staring at the ceiling during the night.

Tripp licked his dry lips as Kaitlin lifted a stack of plates from the packing crate and carried them to the table. Maybe it was just the natural order of things, he thought. He’d not had much interest in such things since—

He spun back to the stove and scooped bacon from the pan, trying to push away the memories. Emily. His wife, Emily. Even after all this time the images still came back with such force. All the old feelings, the pain. He’d put it behind him for the most part, but sometimes without warning it all rushed into his thoughts again. And God, how he hated these moments.

“Coffee?”

Kaitlin peered around him, her brown eyes bigger and wider than usual this morning.

“Sure. Coffee’s fine.” He cracked eggs in the skillet and wiped his hands on a linen towel.

“I’m anxious to get started on the store today,” Kaitlin said as she poured two cups of coffee.

“We need to talk about that.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?” She passed him one of the white mugs. “Where’s Charlie?”

“Upstairs.”

Kaitlin sipped her coffee. “Did Charlie have trouble sleeping last night? Being in a new place does that.”

“Charlie’s used to it.” Tripp turned the scrambled eggs into a bowl, then pulled the biscuits from the oven and piled them on a platter. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

She set her cup down. “I’ll get Charlie.”

“No. I’ll get him.” Tripp went to the foot of the staircase. “Charlie! Come on, son!”

Kaitlin put the food on the table. “It was nice of Julia to give us enough to fix our meals with today. I’ll pay her back as soon as I get some shopping done.”

Footsteps clattered on the stairs and Charlie came into the kitchen pulling up his suspenders. Kaitlin ruffled his uncombed hair and smiled down at him. “Good morning, Charlie: Hungry?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He reached up for Tripp, who gave him a quick hug, then settled him into a chair at the table. “How come you don’t got no kids, Miss Kaitlin?”

She slipped into the chair across from him. “I’m not married, Charlie.”

“How come?”

Kaitlin glanced at Tripp as he sat down between them. “The time’s not right for me to marry yet.”

“Have you got a papa?”

“My papa died a long time ago, so did my mother.” Kaitlin smiled, warming at the memories. “She was a great stage actress. That’s how they met. She was with a touring company, and when he saw her on stage, it was instant love.”

“Well, how come—”

“Eat your breakfast, Charlie.” Tripp scooped eggs and bacon onto the boy’s plate, then passed the platter to Kailin. “You, too.”

“Yes, dear,” Kaitlin said, and gave him a sickly sweet smile. She took a bite. “You’re a good cook.”

“Papa makes the bestest cookies.” Charlie wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “Papa can do anything.”

“Is that so?” Kaitlin smiled across the table at Tripp.

“Uh-huh. Papa builded this table, and that chair.” Charlie pointed to the rocker in the corner.

Kaitlin gave the table a little shake; much more sturdy than the rickety thing left behind by Mr. Finch. “So that’s your trade? You’re a carpenter?”

“No, I just build things when they need building,” Tripp said. “I’m a farmer.”

“You abandoned your farm to come here?”

Tripp shifted in his chair. “Not exactly.”

“We lived with a whole bunch of people,” Charlie said around a mouthful of biscuit. “They had lots of kids.”

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