Only You (6 page)

“Would you mind not sneaking up on me?” she snapped.

“Anyone who sits and stares at fire the way you do has to expect to be taken by surprise from time to time.”

“I was thinking,” she said stiffly.

Reno bent over the campfire, picked up the small, battered coffeepot, and poured a bit more in the mug he was holding. When he finished, he sat on his heels beside Eve, sipped the coffee appreciatively, and watched firelight draw burning patterns of gold through her hair.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Reno said.

Heat climbed up Eve’s cheeks, for she had been thinking of the time when Reno had kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts…She was too honest to deny that she was attracted to him; if she weren’t, she would never have made the unholy bargain for half of the mine.

But that meant she was in the uncomfortable position of not quite trusting her own reactions. It left her feeling edgy and adrift, for all her life she had trusted her instincts when it came to dealing with other people. The Lyons had come to trust her instincts, too; they had often praised her ability to see beyond the surface of other card players to the emotions beneath.

At the same time, Donna Lyon had warned Eve more than once about the nature of man and woman.

Only one thing a man wants from a woman, make no mistake about it. Once you give him that, you better be married, or he’ll go off down the trail and find another foolish girl to spread her legs in the name of love.

“Two pennies,” Reno said dryly.

The sudden flush on Eve’s cheeks made Reno wonder if she had been thinking about the one time he had let his own desire overcome his common sense and tried to seduce her.

God knew that time had been on his mind. When he wasn’t looking over his shoulder for shadows on the back trail, he was thinking about the moment when he had first breathed in the scent of lilacs and tasted the velvet hardness of her nipples.

But thinking and remembering was all that he had done, despite the temptation of their evening campsites, where firelight beckoned and stars glittered against a black sky. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that he was being followed. Rolling around on the ground with a saloon girl was
the kind of distraction that could be fatal—especially if Slater was the man dogging Reno’s trail.

If that wasn’t enough to cool Reno off, there was the fact that they would reach the ranch tomorrow. His conscience was giving him a bad enough time as it was about bringing a saloon girl to his sister’s home.

And yet…

Reno turned and looked at the silent girl who was watching him with eyes the color of gold.

“Three pennies?” he offered.

“Er, I was thinking about Donna Lyon,” Eve said, the only half of the truth she was willing to talk about. “And being partners.”

Reno’s mouth thinned. A flick of his wrist sent the last drops of coffee in his cup arcing into the darkness beyond the fire.

“Gold, huh?” he said sarcastically. “I should have guessed. Money is all girls ever think about. Well, we’re a long way from finding any gold.”

“And we’ll stay that way unless you let me look at Cristobal Leon’s journal,” Eve retorted.

Reno rubbed the stubble on his chin and said nothing.

“Surely you can’t be afraid I’m going to cut and run with the journal,” she said. “Even if poor Whitefoot were shod, he wouldn’t be any match for your mustang.”

Reno looked at Eve. In the firelight his eyes were as clear as spring water. Without a word he came to his feet and walked away from her. He came back a moment later, carrying the journal in his hands. Still saying nothing, he sat cross-legged by the fire and opened the journal.

When Eve didn’t move, he glanced aside at her. “You wanted the journal. Here it is.”

“Thank you,” Eve said, holding out her hand.
Slowly Reno shook his head.

“Come and get it,” he said.

The look in Reno’s eyes warned Eve. Warily she scooted sideways until she was sitting next to him. By bending over his arm and craning her neck, she was able to see the journal’s faded, spidery script.

A dia vente-uno del ano de 15…

The opening words were so familiar she could read them effortlessly.

“In the day of—”

“You’re cutting off my light,” Reno interrupted.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Eve straightened, peered again, and made a frustrated sound.

“Now I can’t see.”

“Here.” Reno handed her the journal.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling in anticipation.

Before Eve’s fingers had done more than close around the soft leather, Reno picked her up and settled her in his lap with her back to his chest. When she tried to move off his lap, he held her in place.

“Going somewhere?” Reno asked.

“I can’t see this way,” Eve said.

“Try opening the journal.”

“What?”

“The journal,” he said dryly. “It’s hard to read through the cover.”

When Eve started to move off his lap, Reno held her in place with offhanded ease.

“I said I wouldn’t force you,” he reminded her in a calm voice. “And I said I wasn’t going to keep my hands off you. I’m a man of my word. What
about you? Do you keep your word like a woman or a saloon girl?”

“I keep my word, period,” Eve said through her teeth.

“Prove it. Start reading. The light’s good enough now, isn’t it?”

She muttered agreement, took a secret breath, and opened the journal to the first page. The words wouldn’t come into focus. All she could think of was the feel of Reno’s body against her back, her hips, her thighs.

Long arms reached around Eve as Reno took the journal from her hands and opened it.

“Read aloud,” he said.

His voice was as casual as though he spent every night with a girl in his lap reading books.

Maybe he does
, Eve thought.

“I should point out,” Reno drawled, “that if what I hear doesn’t interest me, I can always find something else to do that does interest me.”

The sensual threat in his voice was unmistakable.

“In the twenty-first day of the year fifteen…’” Eve said quickly, hoping Reno didn’t hear the unevenness of her voice. “It’s blotched there. I can’t tell if the year is…is…”

Her voice fragmented as she felt the collar of her jacket tugged down in back. The warmth of Reno’s breath on her neck made her shiver.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Keep reading.”

“It just says who authorized…”

The brush of his mustache against Eve’s nape took her breath away.

“Read.”

“I can’t. You’re distracting me.”

“You’ll get used to it. Read.”

“…who authorized the expedition, and how
many men and what arms and…”

Eve’s words stopped as Reno’s teeth tested the softness of her skin with ravishing delicacy.

“Go on,” he whispered.

“…and what the purpose was.”

The tip of his tongue circled her nape. He felt the tremor that went through her and wondered whether it was fear or anticipation.

“What was the purpose?” he asked.

Eve reminded herself that a bargain was a bargain. She had agreed to let Reno try seducing her.

She hadn’t agreed to his success.

“Gold, of course,” she said curtly. “Isn’t that what the Spanish always wanted?”

“I don’t know. You’ve got the journal. Read to me.”

“That wasn’t part of our bargain.”

The heat of Reno’s mouth on Eve’s nape made her heart turn over. The hot suction and fine edges of his teeth sent wildfire through her nerves.

Reno felt the shudder that went through Eve, and wondered once more whether fear or sensuality moved her, for he had seen both in her topaz eyes as she watched him through the long days on the trail.

There was no doubt whether fear or sensuality ruled Reno. The taste of Eve’s naked skin and the feel of her hips snug between his thighs was a pleasure hot enough to burn. He shifted slightly, increasing the sweet pressure against his rapidly hardening flesh.

“They—the Spanish were supposed to baptize Indians, too,” Eve said hurriedly.

She tried squirming off Reno’s lap. Each movement she made only served to increase the intimate contact.

She became very still.

“Were they?” he asked in a lazy voice.

“Yes. It says so right here.”

“Show me.”

Eve tried to find the page, but her fingers were clumsy, and Reno was holding the journal in such a way that she couldn’t turn more than one or two pages.

“Your thumb is in the way,” she said.

Reno made a throaty, questioning sound that ruffled her nerves almost as much as a physical touch.

“I can’t turn the pages,” she explained.

The rest of Eve’s words were lost in a stifled gasp as Reno’s mustache moved like a silk brush along her hairline. Goose bumps coursed up and down her arms.

“Then you hold the journal,” he said in a deep voice. “But if you try climbing off my lap again, I’ll lay you out on the ground, instead.”

Eve took the journal from Reno’s hands and began turning pages as though her life depended on finding out what the rest of the royal instructions to the Cristbbal Leon expedition had been.

Reno’s long, deft fingers began unbuttoning her jacket.

“Saving souls,” she said quickly. “They were trying to save souls.”

“I believe you mentioned that already.”

The jacket began to open, allowing the cool night air to wash Eve’s throat. She dosed her eyes and tried to breathe past her heart, which was lodged halfway up her throat.

“Somewhere he…he writes about seeking an overland route to the Spanish missions in California,” she said.

“Exploration,” Reno said deeply. “Man after my own heart. Go on, gata, read to me about undiscovered
territory and treasures hidden within darkness.”

“They started up from New Spain and…”

Eve gasped softly as the last button on her jacket gave way beneath Reno’s gentle urging. The worn white gambler’s shirt that had once been Don Lyon’s glowed in the firelight as though made of satin.

“Don’t panic,” Reno said. “I’m not doing anything that we didn’t do before.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“The Spanish started from New Spain,” was all Reno said. “And then what?”

“Then they came at the Rockies from the east…”

Her breath rushed out when long fingers stroked her throat lightly, caressing the frantic race of her pulse.

“…or maybe the west. I don’t know. I can’t…”

Reno released the first burton of her shirt.

“…can’t remember which direction they… they…”

Another button gave way. Then another.

“What did they find?” Reno asked softly as he pulled her blouse apart. “Gold?”

Eve dropped the book and grabbed the edges of her blouse. It was too late. Reno’s hands were already stroking bare skin, luring her body with promises of pleasure.

“Not right away. They found…they found…”

Eve’s voice frayed into a soft, ragged cry as her breasts changed in a rush, answering the caress of Reno’s hands.

“Stop,” Eve said.

But even she couldn’t have said if she meant the word for Reno or for herself. The sensual pressure
of her hardened nipples was nudging against his palms.

“Pleasure, not fear,” he breathed against her neck. “We’ll burn down the mountains, gata. And then we’ll burn down the night.”

Eve twisted aside, all but falling to the ground as she pulled free of Reno’s knowing hands.

“No!”

For a few tense moments, Eve thought Reno was going to pull her right back onto his lap. Then he let out an explosive breath that was also a curse.

“It’s just as well, gata. If I keep touching you, I’ll have you.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to take my fancy lady into my sister’s home.”

Eve drew her jacket together with fingers that shook, but it was anger, not passion.

“That won’t be a problem, now or later,” Eve said.

“What?”

“My being your fancy lady.”

Reno’s eyelids flinched at the bitterness in her voice, but all he said was, “Going back on your word so soon?”

Eve’s head came up and her eyes burned as hotly as the fire.

“I agreed that you could try to seduce me,” she said tightly. “I didn’t guarantee your success.”

“Oh, I’ll succeed,” he drawled. “And you’ll be helping me every inch of the way. It will be the most fun you ever had paying off a debt.”

The white flash of Reno’s smile infuriated Eve.

“Don’t count on it, gunman. No girl wants a man who makes her feel like a slut.”

T
HE
change that came over Reno when he rode into the wide valley where Caleb and Willow made their home astonished Eve. The narrowed eyes and predatory alertness dropped away from him, revealing a man who was relaxed and quick to smile. She had thought Reno to be over thirty; now she decided he was years younger and worlds less hard.

Reno’s transformation alone was enough to make the valley appeal to Eve, but there was more. The setting itself was exceptionally beautiful, for the valley was open rather than crowded between towering mountain flanks. A silver-blue river glittered between banks graced by cottonwood trees. On the far side of the wide, lush valley, a cluster of mountain peaks rose in stark grandeur against a sapphire sky.

The snake-back rail fences that divided part of the valley into pastures looked as though they were only a season or two old. Fat cattle grazed calmly
as Eve and Reno rode by, followed by the three packhorses. From a nearby pasture, a muscular red stallion trumpeted a call and galloped over to the visitors with his tail raised like a banner.

As the stallion approached, Whitefoot flicked his ears uneasily and stepped up his pace to hurry past. Reno’s mare wasn’t the least bit worried. She lifted her head to whinny an enthusiastic greeting to the red horse.

“Not this year, Darlin’,” Reno said, smiling as he reined in the dancing mare. “You’re the best dry-country horse I’ve ever had. Time enough for you to have Ishmael’s colts after I’ve found Spanish gold.”

Darlin’ chewed the bit resentfully, snorted, and made a halfhearted attempt to unload her rider.

Laughing, Reno rode out the mare’s displeasure with the same deceptively lazy ease he did so many things. Then he spurred Darlin’ lightly, sending her galloping up to the big log house where a woman wearing a white blouse and a full green skirt was just running out into the yard.

“Matt?” she called out to the rapidly approaching rider. “Is that you?”

“It’s me, Willy,” Reno said.

He reined the mare to a dancing stop and added dryly, “If it weren’t, Cal would have emptied Darlin’s saddle while we were admiring your Arabian stallion.”

“That’s a fact,” Caleb said, stepping out from the house.

“Still being bothered by Comancheros?” Reno asked, noting the rifle in the other man’s hands.

Caleb shrugged. “Drifters, Comancheros, gold hunters. Even had a pack of lords and ladies through while you were gone. Country’s getting too damn crowded in the summertime.”

“Lords and ladies, huh? Bet Wolfe didn’t think much of that.”

“Wolfe and Jessi weren’t here,” Willow said. “They’re still out seeing the sights.”

Reno smiled. If he had been Wolfe, he would have done the same thing-taken his beautiful young bride off in the wilderness and spent a lot of time alone.

“We heard they were over to the west,” Willow continued, “somewhere down in that maze of stone canyons. Jessi swore the honeymoon wouldn’t end until she had seen all of Wolfe’s favorite hideaways.”

“Maybe I’ll run into them in the red rock desert,” Reno said. “What about Rafe? Is he back yet?”

Willow shook her head, making her blond hair gleam in the high-country sunlight.

“He’s still off yondering, looking for a way through the canyon Wolfe told him about, the one so wide and so deep only the sun can cross it,” Willow said.

“How old is that news?”

“Just last week,” Willow said. “A drifter who had met him on the Rio Verde stopped by here yesterday.”

“He was after some of Willow’s biscuits,” Caleb added wryly. “Said he’d been told they were worth riding a hundred miles out of his way to get.”

“Damn,” Reno muttered. “I was hoping to sign Rafe on for a little gold hunting.”

Willow looked from her brother to the packhorses and the slender rider who were just now coming into the yard.

“Did you hire a boy to help you?” she asked.

The change in Reno’s expression was noted instantly by Caleb.

“Not quite,” Reno said. “That’s my, uh, partner.”

Eve was dose enough to hear Reno’s words. She reined her tired horse next to his and took over the introductions that he was plainly reluctant to make.

“My name is Eve Starr,” she said quietly. “You must be Reno’s sister.”

Willow’s cheeks pinked and she laughed. “Oh, my. I’m sorry, Miss Starr. Yes, I’m Willow Black, and I should know better than to assume everything in pants is a male. Jessi and I both wear pants when we ride.”

Caleb looked at the worn, ruffled gambler’s blouse and faded black twill pants on Eve, and knew that he would never have mistaken her for a man. There was something too essentially feminine about the shape beneath the loose clothes for any man to mistake it.

“I’m Caleb Black,” he said to Eve. “Get down and come inside. The trail over the Great Divide is long and hard on a woman.”

“Yes, do get down,” Willow said quickly. “It’s been months since I had a woman to talk to.”

Willow’s generous, welcoming smile was like a balm on Eve’s pride. Her answering smile included Caleb, who was as big as Reno but seemed a good deal more gentle, especially when he was smiling as he was now.

“Thank you,” Eve said. “It was a long ride.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Reno said curtly as she dismounted. “We’re only staying long enough for you to switch horses.”

Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he sensed the tension just beneath the other man’s calm voice, but he said nothing.

As always, Willow said what was on her mind.

“Matthew Moran, where are your manners? Not
to mention your common sense!”

“Someone might be following us,” Reno said. “I don’t want to bring him down on you.”

“Jericho Slater?” Caleb guessed.

Reno looked surprised.

“Men don’t have much to talk about out here except other men,” Caleb said dryly. “One of my riders has a Comanchero, er, friend. Her brother is Slater’s tracker.”

“Not much gets by you, does it?” Reno muttered. “Yes, it’s probably Slater on my trail.”

The feral smile that came over Caleb’s face made Eve swiftly revise her idea of his gentle nature.

“And here I thought you’d forgotten my birthday,” Caleb said. “It’s really fine of you to bring a Slater to share around. Damn few of those boys left.”

Laughing softly, Reno shook his head and accepted the inevitable.

“All right, Cal. We’ll stay to supper.”

“You’ll do more than that,” Willow said quickly.

“Sorry, Willy,” Reno said. “We’ve got too much ground to cover.”

“What’s the rush?” Caleb asked. “Is Slater that hard on your trail?”

“No.”

Caleb’s dark eyebrows rose at the curt answer. Reno shifted in the saddle and thought of what he could say that wouldn’t be a lie and wouldn’t be the truth: he was damned uncomfortable bringing a saloon girl into his sister’s home.

“It’s late in the season to be taking on the high country,” Reno said, “and we’ve got a lot of rock desert to cross before we even get to the Abajos.”

“Abajos, huh? That’s a mighty lonesome group of mountains you’ve picked out to explore.”

“Not me. The Jesuits. At least, I assume that’s
where we’re headed,” he added, looking sideways at Eve.

“You assume?” Willow asked, confused. “Don’t you know?”

“I’m not real good at making out the old-style Spanish, and I’m plumb useless when it comes to the Lyons’ private family code. That’s where my, uh, partner comes in.”

“Oh.” Willow still looked confused.

Reno looked like a man who was through making explanations.

Caleb shaded his eyes and stared across the meadow to the closest peak. High on its rugged side, a handful of aspens burned with the yellow torch of fall.

“You’ve got some time yet before the high country closes,” Caleb said easily. “Only a few of the aspens on the north-facing slopes have turned.” Reno shrugged. “I’m not betting against an early snow.”

The set of Reno’s mouth said more than his words. He wasn’t going to stay at the ranch one moment longer than he had to.

“Gold fever, huh?” Caleb said without rancor. “Been expecting it.”

Reno nodded curtly.

“Well,” Caleb said, “you might think about your partner. She looks a little frazzled to be galloping off after fool’s gold. Maybe you should leave her here to rest up while you reconnoiter.”

Though nothing in Caleb’s voice or expression suggested he thought there was something unusual about a girl riding alone through the wilderness with a man who wasn’t her husband, fiancé or blood relation, Eve’s face colored.

“It’s my map,” she said.

“Not quite,” Reno retorted.

Caleb’s dark eyebrows lifted.

“It’s a long story,” Reno muttered.

“Best kind,” Caleb said, his voice bland.

“Then it will take a long time to tell, won’t it?” Willow demanded.

“Willy—” Reno began.

“Don’t you ‘Will/ me, Matthew Moran,” she interrupted, putting her hands on her hips and planting herself in front of her brother.

“Now, just a min—” Reno began.

It was no use.

“Even if you swapped saddles like a Pony Express rider and galloped until sunset,” Willow said, talking over her brother, “you wouldn’t get more than a few miles down the road. You’re staying for a time, and that’s that. If s been too long since I’ve had a woman to talk to.”

“Honey, it’s—” began Caleb.

“You stay out of this,” Willow said. “Matt’s been living on his own too long. He’s got no more manners than a wolf.”

Eve watched Willow with a combination of fascination and horror as she faced down the two large men. If Willow realized that her husband and brother were a foot taller and far stronger than she was, it didn’t slow down her tongue one bit.

Yet neither man struck Eve as the kind to step back for anyone, much less for someone who was half their weight and a third their strength.

Caleb and Reno looked sideways at each other while Willow took a breath. Caleb smiled, then began laughing softly. It took Reno longer, but in the end he gave in to his little sister.

“All right, Willy. But only one night. We’re pulling out at dawn.”

She started to object, looked at Reno’s eyes, and knew more arguing would be pointless.

“And only if you make biscuits,” Reno added, smiling as he dismounted.

Willow laughed and hugged her brother.

“Welcome home, Matt.”

Reno hugged her in return, but his eyes were shadowed as he looked beyond Willow’s blond head to the house and the meadow where livestock grazed. He was welcome, but it wasn’t his home. He had no home.

For the first time in his life, the thought bothered him.

T
HE
kitchen smelled of Willow’s biscuits, beef stew, and the dried apple pie that Eve had insisted on making for dinner. Willow hadn’t put up much of a fight, readily accepting that Eve preferred to be treated as a neighbor or a friend rather than as a guest.

Reno hadn’t been pleased to find Eve in the kitchen when he came in from choosing horses and readying the pack saddles for an early start tomorrow, but it was too late to object. Eve and Willow were sharing the kitchen and talking together like old friends.

Eve had bathed and changed into the old dress Reno had found in her saddlebag while searching for much more valuable things. The dress was wrinkled, all but worn-out, painfully clean, and obviously had been made from flour bags. The cloth had been washed in harsh soap and dried in the sun so many times that the makers’ names had faded to an illegible wash of pink and pale blue. Either the material had shrunk over time, or the dress was a hand-me-down, for it fit too snugly across Eve’s breasts and hinted too much at the flare of her hips.

It made a man want to measure the slender waist
with his hands, and then peel off the coarse cloth to get at the silky woman beneath.

But it was better than the crimson silk saloon dress Reno had first seen on Eve. He had been afraid she would wear it in Willow’s house as a way of getting back at him for saying he wouldn’t take a fancy lady into his sister’s house.

He hadn’t meant the remark as a insult; it was simply a fact. He had too much respect and love for his sister to parade fallen women through her home.

“Oh, blast,” Willow said. “I forgot Ethan’s diaper.”

“I’ll get it,” Eve said.

“Thanks. It’s in the bedroom next to yours.”

Eve turned and saw Reno’s disapproving eyes. She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and walked past him without a word.

His cold glance followed the unconscious swaying of her hips until he could see them no longer. Only then did he turn back to his sister and his nephew, who was at present being bathed near the warmth of the kitchen stove.

The baby’s whiskey-colored eyes were an exact match for Caleb’s. Though not yet six months old, Ethan Black was already bigger than most children at ten months. He made an armful for his mother as he splashed and paddled enthusiastically in a basin of warm water.

“Here,” Reno said. “Let me take care of him. You make biscuits.”

“I’ve already made a triple batch,” Willow said. “The last of them are baking right now.”

“Those are for tonight. I was talking about biscuits for the trail tomorrow.”

Laughing, Willow stepped aside.

Reno picked up the soft washrag, rubbed soap
into it, and began washing his nephew. The baby made a happy sound and reached for Reno’s mustache with chubby little fingers. Reno drew back, but not quite enough. Ethan grabbed hair and pulled.

Wincing, Reno moved to disentangle the small fingers. Despite the baby’s happy yanking, Reno was careful not to truly discourage his nephew. He eased the fingers from his mustache, gave them a smacking, tickling kiss, and laughed when Ethan’s eyes widened with surprise and delight.

The baby crowed and made another grab for Reno’s mustache. This time Reno had the baby’s range and ducked successfully.

“If you don’t beat all,” Reno said as he washed his squirming, energetic nephew. “I’m gone less than a month, and your arms grow half an inch.”

Ethan’s arms windmilled, sending water every-where. Willow looked up from the flour she was sifting, saw her child’s delight, and shook her head.