Lauri Robinson (4 page)

“Yes,” she answered as an odd coldness settled in her stomach.

When he lifted his toe, the sigh that left her chest made her wonder if she’d hoped for a different outcome. Chin up, she held out her hand, and when Ratcliff set the coin in her palm, she said, “The promissory note.”

He dug in his pocket, handed her a piece of paper. Without even checking that it held Chester Marks’s signature, she turned and marched toward the hat shop.

Pappy better hurry up. At this rate she’d own the entire Dakota Territory by the time he arrived. A place she couldn’t wait to leave.

Chapter Five

“Why aren’t you playing checkers?”

Herman shrugged. “Don’t feel up to it.”

With his elbows on his checkerboard and his chin in his palms, the old man looked as browbeaten as a homesick dog. Nine-tenths of the population of Founder’s Creek looked about the same. Jake could relate, He didn’t have the same light in his heart either.

“Where do you think she went?” his deputy asked.

Jake’s teeth were clenched, so he shrugged.

“You’re the sheriff, why aren’t you out looking for her?”

“Because she’s not missing.” Jake tossed aside the report he’d been pretending to read. Stacy was all his eyes wanted to see and they formed an image of her no matter where he looked.

“She’s been gone two weeks.”

Jake bit his tongue before snapping that he knew exactly how long she’d been gone. “She bought a train ticket. Left of her own accord,” he said. The same day he’d lied to her, let her walk out of his office. He’d sent wires to every city along the rail, but all he’d discovered was she’d switched trains in Yankton. Searching her home hadn’t given him any clues either. Still full of her belongings, it reminded him of a tomb.

Built for a railroad magnate’s family, the house had been an empty relic of the boom Founder’s Creek had known the year the railroad made the township a hub while laying the rail west. That had happened before Jake had arrived, but the house had always caught his eye. He’d considered purchasing it, had the money, but his salary alone wasn’t sufficient and that would have caused tongues to wag. So the house had sat empty until Stacy Blackwell’s arrival—just like him.

Herman’s sigh echoed off the ceiling. “It sure is lonely without her.”

His nerves couldn’t take any more. “I’ll see you later.” Jake grabbed his hat off the hook and left his office.

Walking the streets was worse than listening to Herman. Every time he passed a door someone rushed out to ask if he’d heard anything about her.

No, he wanted to shout, he hadn’t. But as soon as he did, he’d be gone as well. To wherever Stacy was and there he’d bare his soul. Tell her gambling wasn’t what haunted him. Never had been. After years of condemning the game, he finally understood exactly why he’d left it all behind.

Just then the train whistle sounded, echoing through the air and tearing at all that was left of his heart. A ball of anxiety had rolled in his stomach when he’d entered Ma Belle’s last week, but sitting down across from Ratcliff had been easier than he’d thought. There’d been no demons staring at him on those cards, just shapes and symbols on heavy pieces of paper. An odd almost painful ache formed inside him, the same as it had the night he’d won Stacy’s necklace. It hadn’t just been watching that woman die back in St. Louis. It had been seeing what her life had held that made him leave the tables.

Standing there in the street, momentarily deaf to his surroundings, Jake stumbled when someone rushed past him. Spinning on a heel, he caught a nearby post as others shoved him aside in their hurry.

“It’s her.”

“Just stepped off the train.”

“She’s back.”

Jake’s heart left where it had sat in his stomach the past weeks to clutch the back of his throat with the ferocity of a hawk. Passing several slower-moving people, his feet skidded to a halt when a frilly pink parasol popped up above the bystanders gathering at the train station.

The crowd parted, giving her room to pass out hugs and kisses on cheeks. Jake followed her every move, noted Herman was one of the first in line. A grin almost formed. It took the old man ten minutes to walk across the office, yet he’d made it across town in seconds.

When she lifted her face and caught his gaze, Jake dug his heels into the ground. As if she had to gain control of her senses as badly as he did, she closed her eyes for a moment. He locked his lungs, refused to let his gaze waver as she lifted her lids. Decked from head to toe in pink—a shade lighter than her cheeks—the little gambler would make any queen of hearts jealous, and the brief smile of her lips had his insides flipping.

She continued her greetings until her path ended directly in front of him. “Sheriff McCrery.”

“Miss Blackwell,” he returned with a slight nod.

Twisting that elegant neck slightly, she glanced over her shoulder. Jake’s innards collided as he recognized the man. It wasn’t because he disliked Adam Sinclair, but the fact the gambler knew him. Well.

“Sheriff,” Sinclair said.

They shook hands, with Jake holding his silence. He should have known a thoroughbred of Stacy’s caliber knew people from his past.

“I’m going to check myself into the hotel and order up a thick steak,” Sinclair said, looking at Stacy. “I’m sure the good sheriff will see you home.”

“All right, Adam,” she answered, leaning up to brush a kiss over the man’s cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jake’s hands clenched as he breathed through his nose.

“Bright and early, darling,” the gambler replied.

Sinclair had always turned women’s heads, and that hadn’t changed as he carried his leather bag up the street of Founder’s Creek. Every female nearby, young and old, paused to watch, which had Jake’s stomach gurgling.

“You will walk me home, won’t you, Sheriff?”

Riled enough to paddle her bottom right here and now, Jake replied, “Oh, yes, Miss Blackwell, I’ll see you home.”

Her smile didn’t fade, but a touch of uncertainty flashed in her sky-blue eyes as she handed him her valise. The want to pull her into his arms and kiss the daylights out of her overrode the urge to paddle her, not that he would have minded touching her little derrière. Wouldn’t have minded it at all.

“My, I must admit, I didn’t expect such a large welcome,” she said, still waving to departing people while the two of them started toward her house on the edge of town.

“It’s a small town,” he quipped.

Marching along, fancy umbrella bobbing over her head, she took an audible breath. “Why, Sheriff, you sound as if you aren’t happy to see me.”

Jake swallowed the rumble in his throat. Happy didn’t quite describe what he was feeling right now. “Maybe I’m not.”

“Well,” she said. “I have no idea why you wouldn’t be.” Pointing her chin higher, she shrugged. “I’ve grown quite fond of your little town.”

“Perhaps because you own half of it,” he reminded her.

Smiling brightly, she clicked her tongue. “Now, Jake, you know it’s only five businesses and a house. Oh, and one farm.”

He hadn’t forgotten, nor had he forgotten how much fun sparring with her was, and he was honest enough to admit he’d missed it. But the way she’d said his given name had his old ticker doing double time and specific parts of him twitching. “That’s why they all met you at the train station,” he said gruffly. “Ratcliff has had a fine time at the tables.”

Her sigh floated on the wind. “And you haven’t tried to stop him.”

“There’s no law against gambling. You reminded me of that more than once.”

She nodded, but softly said, “Perhaps there should be.”

Jarred by something deep inside, he stopped and caught her elbow. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” she answered, shaking her head. Then, pointing at her house a few yards ahead, she said, “I’ll worry about Ratcliff tomorrow. Right now, I’m quite exhausted from my travels.”

“And where exactly was that?”

“Was what?”

Jake, fighting the images that attempted to form of where she might have been, who she might have been kissing, fell into step beside her as she started walking again. “Your travels.”

As if contemplating her answer, she remained quiet until they stopped on her front stoop. She pointed to the pot of yellow daisies. “You’re a gambler, Jake. You know sometimes you have to fill the table with your friends.”

He used the time gathering the key beneath the flowerpot to gather his wits. Sinclair had told her. Then again, maybe she’d known all along what his profession had been before moving to Founder’s Creek. Unlocking the door, he pushed it wide before gesturing for her to enter.

“Close the door, Jake. We need to talk.”

A click echoed behind her, but Stacy didn’t turn around to face him. Not yet. She had to convince her insides to settle down first. If not for Herman’s tight hug back at the train station, she’d have toppled face first in the dirt when she’d caught sight of Jake. It seemed humanly impossible for a man to become more handsome in a mere two weeks, but in her eyes he certainly had.

One touch is all it would take and she’d be lost. Her good sense said that. But land sakes she wanted to touch him, kiss him. So badly her insides were twisted in knots.

It was unfathomable, how much she’d missed him. Not a day, barely a minute, had gone by when she wasn’t thinking about him. Reminding herself why she’d left hadn’t helped much, but imagining the end, when she’d have the jackpot of a lifetime, had. Her decision had come quickly, right after she’d won Chester’s farm. Intuition, her gut, had told her to act fast, and she had. he was a gambler, and just as she’d told him, she knew when to stack the deck. Traveling all the way to Kansas City hadn’t been in the plan, but Adam Sinclair was the friend she needed to pull this all off.

Stacy’s musing helped assemble her senses. Drawing a breath, she turned. “So Sheriff McCrery—”

“No.” Standing before her, he shook his head.

The pull she felt toward him, as if she were a fish hooked on the end of his line, was stronger right now than it had ever been, and fighting it made her shaky. “No?” she repeated. “No, what?”

One hand pulled the hat off his head, tossed it to land on the tapestry chair near the door while his other hand folded around her fingers. “No, Stacy,” he said. “It’s not Sheriff McCrery, it’s Jake.”

Whether his eyes towed her forward or he tugged her hand didn’t matter; either way, she ended up in his arms, hers looping around his neck as their lips met with the ability to take her breath away.

On her tiptoes, stretching to make the connection as full as possible, she kissed him long and hard before breaking long enough to whisper, “Yes, it is.”

There was a guarded, questioning look in his eyes.

“I’ve missed you, Jake,” she admitted, tossing her carefully considered plan out the window.

His hands on her waist tightened, held her arched against him. “Not as much as I’ve missed you.”

With a grin that made her heart sing, he took her mouth again.

Kissing him was a phenomenon Stacy couldn’t describe, for she’d never experienced anything comparable. Nothing had ever tasted so good. Hours spent recalling their other kisses didn’t do justice to the way his lips teased hers right now, or the way his hands roamed her back, sparking waves of delight all the way to her toes.

Then his tongue found hers, and a hot need flamed inside her. The last time she’d kissed him she’d gone with her instincts, and did so again. Her hands roamed where they wanted, her tender breasts brushed against his chest, and an intuitive rhythm had her swaying against him.

His hands grabbed her bottom, held their hips tight together as he kissed her with such intensity she grew dizzy. When his lips left hers to taunt and tease her neck, she fought to catch her breath, but ultimately knew it wasn’t air she needed. The want consuming her was for the act she’d only heard about from others, and dreamed of doing with him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “So warm and sweet…” His hands framed her face and exuberance filled his gaze. “And beautiful.”

She bit her bottom lip, holding in the words she wanted to say. Revealing how she truly felt, deep down inside where her very soul resided, would be the biggest gamble of her life. Her gut was with her, told her to tell him, but a fear tugged at her. If she risked telling him, and lost, she’d never recover.

“Aw, Stacy.” His fingers slipped into her hair, removed the pins holding the clumps of curls above her ears. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

Her teeth bored harder into her lip.

He kissed her forehead then took her hand. “Come on.”

“W-Where are we going?” she asked, already following him into the parlor.

“Sit down,” he said once they stood next to the divan.

Sitting wasn’t what she wanted. Her body was on fire. The desire still there, not even the fear he’d reject her love had dowsed it. “Jake, I—”

“Sit, Stacy,” he insisted.

Flustered, she plopped onto the cushion with absolutely no grace. The smile that flashed across his lips made her cheeks blaze. Good heavens, after kissing him like she had, his grin made her blush? She truly was out of sorts.

Rubbing his chin, he took a few steps and dropped her hairpins beside the lamp on the table. When he glanced her way, he asked, “How much did Sinclair tell you?”

With her thoughts focused on him, she stuttered, “S-Sin…” Reality had a way of worming itself in no matter how enjoyable the moment. Her heart all of a sudden weighed a hundred pounds. “Adam didn’t tell me anything more than you used to rule the faro tables.”

“And?”

“And nothing. He said others wondered where you’d gone. But he wasn’t surprised to hear you were the sheriff here.”

He nodded, but remained thoughtfully quiet so long, she said, “I figured you got tired of it all.” Maybe because that’s how she felt, though she hadn’t realized it until entering the gambling room in Kansas City. The thrill just hadn’t been there. Inside her.

“I did,” he said, sitting down beside her. “I got tired of it all.”

Chapter Six

Jake was about as worked up as a man could be. Not even the past, and all the years it had haunted him, lessened how badly he wanted to take her in his arms again. The moment the door had closed, the space between them had heated up and he couldn’t have stopped kissing her if the building had been on fire. He’d almost blurted out all the emotions piling up inside him, after that kiss, but then he’d seen fear creeping into her precious blue eyes. It was easy to recognize because there was a touch of panic inside him, and telling her everything was the only way to release it.

“Jake?”

Taking her hand, he kissed a knuckle. “Three years ago I was down in St. Louis. It was a normal day at the tables, some folks winning, others not.” He didn’t know what that woman’s name had been. Never did. She and her husband had been playing all day—they’d been young, their love had literally sparked between them—and she’d been jubilant, had her husband beaming and most of the room laughing at her glee. “A woman asked for a touch of advice on a game,” Jake said aloud. “I told her to bet on red nine, and red nine won. And then a gunfight broke out.”

He’d heard the first shot and turned in time to see the roulette dealer fall to the floor. Other shots had been fired and he’d run, intending to knock the woman out of the line of fire, but when he’d arrived it was to catch her as she fell. The nameless girl died in his arms, clutching his shirt and looking up at him with panic-filled eyes that faded as swiftly as her breath. When the husband dropped to his knees and comprehended his wife was dead, he shot the man who’d shot his wife and then turned his pistol on himself.

“People died that day.” He shook his head. “That isn’t uncommon, I’d witnessed it before, but that day it included a couple. Newlyweds.”

“Oh, Jake,” she whispered, and her hold tightened on his hand.

He shrugged, trying to shake off the image. Yet, it remained, making him wonder how he’d react if Stacy…

Giving his head a hard shake, he forced the thought to stop there. “I didn’t know them,” he said. “But, then and there I decided I’d had enough of gambling.”

Her eyes were closed and Jake took a deep breath. He wanted to tell her the rest, how when he’d sat down to win back Stacy’s necklace he’d realized it hadn’t been the woman’s death that changed him, but the fact she and her husband had had what he wanted. Had always wanted. Love.

All of a sudden he grew tongue-tied. Shifting, he dug into his pocket, pulled out her locket. “Here.”

She blinked several times, staring at the chain looped over his finger. “Where’d you get that?”

“I won it off Ratcliff.”

Chewing on her bottom lip as she took the necklace, she stared at it for several minutes before whispering, “But you don’t gamble.”

Jake searched for something to say, but nothing formed. The way her shaking hand wrapped around the pendant told him nothing.

None of her usual confidence shone in her eyes as she lifted her chin. “Did you tell me all that because you could never…” She took a breath that made her shoulders rise and fall. “Love a gambler?”

That had once been his thought, but it no longer rang true. Jake wasn’t sure what washed over him. Guilt about his past, shame for blundering this moment, or a form of relief because she’d misinterpreted it all.

He took her by the upper arms. “No. I already love a gambler.”

Hesitancy hovered in her blue eyes, yet hope flashed there, too. “You do?”

“Yes, I do.” Cupping her cheeks, he bumped his nose against hers. “I love you, Stacy Blackwell, the gambler that you are.”

Her velvety gasp had his heart kicking his ribcage.

“I told you about St. Louis because I want you to know I’m not an outlaw or wanted somewhere and why I spent the last three years relieving newcomers of their guns before letting them enter Ma Belle’s and scolding schoolkids for stealing apples. It’s been an easy life. A good life. But…” He paused, not only to inwardly accept his confession as accurate but to make sure he had her full attention. “When I won that necklace off Ratcliff I realized gambling had just been a cover for what I’d been searching for my entire life.”

Frowning slightly, she asked, “What’s that?”

The air was snapping again, as were his insides. The desires that were never far away when she was near were back. Full force. “You. The person I’d give my life for.”

Her response was a soft whimper as her hands folded around his neck and her lips met his. Seconds later the kiss was hotter, stronger than the previous one had been.

“Jake,” she said between smaller kisses. “I love you, too. And I never, ever want to be parted from you again.”

The entire world seemed to stop spinning for a moment and then a thrill shot through him, had his blood rushing and his hands seeking to touch every conceivable inch of her. Kissing her cheeks, her neck, her chin, anywhere his lips could catch a taste of her sweet skin, he admitted, “I didn’t know where to start looking for you.”

He found her mouth again, caught her tongue and tasted her until he was ready to burst before breaking away.

With flushed cheeks and smoldering eyes, she kissed his chin. Her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt. “I was coming back. I just needed help.”

His focus was slipping. “Needed help?”

“Mmm, yes,” she mumbled, now kissing his chest.

He should stop her, step back before the riot her hands and lips created inside him overtook his final coherent senses, but desperation had a hold on him. A need so powerful he took her lips again in a flood of kisses that ran from short and frantic to long and greedy.

During a brief pause, she gasped against his lips. “Upstairs.”

The plea in her voice, the taunting fingertips slipping inside his waistband, had him sweeping her off her feet and into his arms while his mouth devoured hers. It wasn’t until he was climbing the wide stairway that his sense kicked in and Jake came to a stumbling halt so fast she almost flew from his arms.

Her squeal was more of a giggle, and at the top of the stairs, when he paused to lower her to the floor, her hold on his neck tightened.

“Stacy,” he said, nuzzling her temple. “If I carry you down this hallway…” The consequences were great, but so was his love. Torn, he couldn’t find the words to explain why they should stop now.

Caressing his neck, keeping his desires on the surface, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I know what’s going to happen in my bedroom, Jake. It’s what I want.”

“I want it too, but—”

“But what?” She kissed his neck again, nipped at his earlobe, and then lifted her head, met his gaze. “You’re going to marry me, Jake McCrery.”

Solid determination, without a hint of acting, shone in those blue eyes. A wave of something he could only explain as ecstasy rushed through his bloodstream. “I thought you didn’t want to get married,” he said, half teasing.

“I didn’t,” she answered solidly. With the corners of her mouth curling, she added, “Until I met you.”

He could have shouted to the stars for all the jubilance racing inside him. “You are going to marry me,” he said, “if I have to drag you to the church.”

One fingertip traced along his collarbone and down, making circles on his chest as she said, “There won’t be any dragging involved.” The end of her nose touched his. “Don’t make me wait, Jake. Please. Not tonight, and not for our wedding day.”

It wasn’t until he laid her on the bed and stretched his length beside her that Stacy knew his answer. Waiting would have killed her, it almost was right now. Over the moon and back again with delight, she grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him, rolling on top of him as an entirely new sense of expectations zipped over her skin.

Gamblers were bold, audacious at times, and she was a thoroughbred, had been since the day she was born. Though she had no need to ever play at a table again, she was fully prepared to use all she knew in this—the game of a lifetime. Pushing onto her knees and hoisting her skirt, she sat straddling his waist and started unbuttoning her dress.

The glitter in his eyes, the shine on his face, had her heart thumping and her insides swirling. He grasped her hips, held her in place as he scooted to the top of the bed and propped himself against the headboard. Then his hands took over for hers.

“You never told me why you needed help,” he said, moving on to the next button.

Stacy’s mind was focused on the pleasure that had her breasts growing heavy and tingling, therefore it took a moment before she recalled the conversation downstairs. Rubbing the hard muscles of his forearms as his fingers continued unfastening her dress, she answered, “I needed someone to take over winning back what people kept losing.”

“Why?”

His hands slid between her dress and camisole and his thumbs rubbed the peaks of her breasts, making her nipples throb. The sensation was so unique it stilled her breath and set her center pulsing against his hardness. Closing her eyes, she glorified in the awareness until a wild, burning ache spread through her entire body.

Pushing at her sleeves, tugging her arms free, and appreciating the ability to speak while excited beyond belief, she answered, “Because I’ve grown fond of this town. I don’t want my friends losing all they have at a gambling table.” Once free of the top half of her dress, she found the bottom of her camisole—utterly thankful she’d never grown accustomed to wearing a corset. When the material passed her head, she caught it with one hand and dropped it on his chest.

Another wave of satisfaction spiked inside her as his eyes and hands settled on her breasts. “Besides,” she said, willing to admit how much she loved him. “I wanted to make you jealous.”

His hands cupped both breasts firmly; it was heavenly.

“I’ve been jealous of any man who even
looked
at you since the moment I first saw you sitting at Edward’s table.”

Her spine threatened to melt and the desire spiraling from her center intensified. “You have?”

“Oh, yes, I have.”

He took her mouth and kissed her until Stacy thought she saw stars. When they separated, she could have been boneless, that’s how soft and supple her body felt. Yet at the same time a powerful, restless yearning had her pressing her core against him.

“Jake,” she pleaded, “can we stop talking now?”

The sound he made was between a groan and a chuckle as he grasped her waist and lifted her. “Come here.”

A gasp turned into a moan that trembled on her lips as his mouth settled on one of her breasts. Stacy dug her hands into his hair and clutched tightly as the warmth, the moisture, the pleasure, threatened to send her into delirium.

By the time he’d sampled her other breast, the sweet, yet fierce torment raging inside her had Stacy climbing from his lap and squirming out of her dress. Jake was there to help her, slowly easing the material down her thighs.

“Shh, darling, there’s no rush,” he said, kissing her cheeks.

“Then you’re not feeling what I’m feeling,” she insisted, kicking as the dress slipped over her knees.

Unlacing her boots, he chuckled. “Oh, believe me, I am.”

“Then hurry up,” she groaned.

For years, patience had been a friend of hers, giving her the endurance to wait until the last card had been drawn. By the time Jake had removed both her boots and stockings, Stacy’s fingers were balled into the bed covering. It was all she could do to keep from grabbing him and demanding he take her now. Before the fire inside her burst into flames.

After he tossed aside her pantaloons, she took hold of his arms and pulled him forward. He kissed her, endearingly sweetly, but it wasn’t what she wanted. Pushing his shirt of his shoulders, she begged, “Jake, please, I—”

“Shh,” he insisted, smothering her protest with his lips. The kiss didn’t stop with her mouth, but blazed a trail to her breasts again, which had her collapsing back on the bed and her head rolling from side to side as the ecstasy consumed her.

Lost in the pleasure, a sweeping wave of contentment shivered across her skin when Jake eased away. The smile on her face increased as he undressed and she watched, somewhat languidly considering the way her womanhood pulsed and sent a coil of desire to clatter against the back of her throat.

His body was magnificent, a work of art that had pride welling inside her. A jarring jolt of excitement shot through her when her gaze landed on one particular part. Never shy and always curious, Stacy examined it thoroughly as he moved closer, and lifted her arms in welcome when he leaned over the bed.

“Oh, Jake, I do believe I’ve won the jackpot,” she whispered, catching his broad shoulders.

His eyes held all the glory of the sun as he ran his hands down her sides, fingers lingering for a moment on her breasts.

“I beg to differ, darling. I believe I’m the winner.”

Her giggle was cut short when her breath wedged in her lungs. His hands slid downward toward her hips and the fire centered there, stimulating her more with each touch. There was a tiny inkling of fear, for she’d been told it may hurt the first time, yet the need burning inside was so intense she could only imagine that not satisfying it would be more painful.

Jake’s hand slid to her inner thigh and Stacy bit into her bottom lip. No protest harbored inside her, yet for the first time in her life, doubt humbled her. “Jake?”

“Shh, darling, there’s nothing to fear.”

His kiss, full of passion and love, reignited the hunger in her soul, and in that moment, as her heart swelled, all doubts and fears disappeared. Her hips rose, opening herself for him to explore.

Worlds collided inside her head, one as glorious as the other. Jakes hands and lips took her from one to the other so fast she was beyond recognizing what sent her reeling over the edge of one plateau and onto another. When the heat of his mouth, the searching of his tongue ,moved between her legs and found her center, she gasped, moaned and begged him to stop, though silently, for in truth it was utterly splendid. She clamped one hand on her mouth to keep from crying out in bliss as her thighs trembled, signifying some great and mystifying force overtaking her.