Silver Sparks (32 page)

He assumed an air of peaceful contemplation as he slid his hands beneath her hair, letting the strands fall between his fingers. Maybe he was on tranquilizers. “I saw them,” he told her calmly.

“Then you know I’m a pariah again. The town slut.”

He smiled. “You’re a fraud.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not you. Besides, do you think I care what they say?”

“I think you care that I’m impulsive and reckless. I’d like to pretend you don’t, and that last night never happened, but unfortunately there are pictures. By now the whole world has seen them. I really wish I were the woman you want me to be, Cal.” Especially when he ran his hands beneath her hair like he was doing now, making her sigh with longing. “But I can’t pretend to be something I’m not. Obviously, you’ve blocked what you saw from your mind, maybe because of everything that happened afterward. But those pictures are real. I really was that impulsive and reckless.”

She expected to see his expression fall as the disappointing truth sank in. It didn’t. The crooked smirk that touched his mouth made her squirm with desire and wish really, really hard that he wasn’t deluding himself. Teasing her with what she couldn’t have was unfair.

He shook his head sadly. “See? You’re perpetrating a fraud.”

My God, maybe he really was so deep in denial that he refused to see the truth. She should break it to him gently. “You were in the other room, so you didn’t see—”

“Maggie, what I saw was the most selfless act of bravery I’ve ever seen from anyone.”

Her mouth hung open for several seconds before she could speak. “You did?”

He caressed her cheek and looked at her with a tenderness that made her heart skip several beats. “I saw someone sacrifice herself to save someone else. Your reputation in this town means more to you than anything. I know what they used to say about you, Maggie, and I know how much it hurt. You spent years trying to repair that damage, and it was finally working. Then in ten minutes’ time you threw it all away so Amber wouldn’t have to face the same ridicule.”

“You know that?” she said weakly.

“I know that,” he affirmed softly. “And I know it wasn’t an impulsive decision. I think you knew exactly what the consequences would be, and you did it anyway. It was amazing and brave, and I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to thank you for it last night, but I got a bit distracted by watching a serial killer try to carve you up with a hunting knife.”

Understandable. “I forgive you.”

He smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and she nearly melted at his touch. Her heart would be happy never to move out of the moment, but her brain insisted on making sense of her spinning thoughts. “So I’m a fraud, and you’re the reckless one for deciding to quit your job and move to Colorado?”

“Actually, I’m a fraud, too.” He lowered his voice as if letting her in on a secret. “Moving here isn’t reckless, it’s simple self-preservation. If I left here I’d die. I love you too much to live without you, Maggie.”

The words were soft and gentle, and slammed into her heart with enough power to collapse her lungs.

“What?” She’d heard perfectly. She wanted to hear it again.

“I love you.” He framed her face and kissed her gently. “Move in with me, Maggie. What do you say?”

She checked to see if she could breathe first. “Okay.”

He smiled.

She had to say it, but took her time, smoothing her hands over his chest as she savored the warm, fuzzy feeling. “I love you, too.”

“Good. Then, I’ll give you the summer to think about marrying me, because by fall we’ll have an impressionable young girl in the house and I wouldn’t want to shock her delicate sensibilities by living in sin.”

She ignored her tripping heart and bit her lip to keep from grinning. “Bad argument. Not even looking at the cracked head of a dead serial killer shocked Amber.”

“Good point. How about the fact that making an honest woman of you would help repair your tarnished reputation?”

Probably not so tarnished after she got through with Jameson’s law firm. “Maybe,” she allowed, because jumping up and down and shouting yes would have been too embarrassing.

“Maybe” seemed to be good enough, because he took her mouth in a long, delicious kiss that knocked her thoughts back into a happy muddle. It took a long time to remember the one incongruent fact. Reluctantly breaking away, she said, “You said you were leaving for Oklahoma today.”

“I am. I have to quit my job and pack up my stuff. Wanna come?”

She almost gave an automatic “no,” then stopped. She didn’t have to worry about the store—it wasn’t open. She could stand around watching contractors for a couple more weeks, or she could ask Sophie to cover for her and spend every day with Cal. And every night.

“Sure.”

That was good for another long kiss. Cal finally pulled away, directing a startled look toward the worktable. “That’s not George, is it?”

She glanced at the slab of fossilized trilobites she’d been wrapping when he walked in. “No, it’s a smaller piece.”

“Good, because I’m rather fond of old George. I was thinking of buying him.”

She was surprised he even remembered what she called the giant trilobite. “Cal, did you see the price tag on that thing?”

“I have plenty of money.”

She laughed. “You don’t hear that every day.”

“Plus, you could give him to me at cost. Sort of a family discount.”

She could tell he was really going to push the family idea. Surprisingly, she was all right with it. “I could do that. Why are you so fond of George?”

“Because he’s brilliant, a trilobite ahead of his time. He found the secret to love five hundred million years ago.” He laid his forehead against her, holding her close. “When you find the right woman, you stick with her. Forever.”

Turn the page

for a sneak peek

at the next sexy adventure

by

Starr Ambrose

Coming Soon from Pocket Books

Z
oe Larkin stepped inside the Rusty Wire Saloon and felt her sling-back pump stick to the floor. She looked down. Her right foot rested squarely in a half-dried puddle of beer.

Leaving was tempting. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an option. It was either brave the sticky beer puddles at ten in the morning or the raucous crowd that created them at night. Wrinkling her nose, she stepped around the beer and surveyed the saloon.

Directly across a vast open area of floor, a long bar looked as it probably had a hundred years ago when the place was new. As she watched, a bartender sloshed soapy water onto the top and attacked the surface with a brush. At least they kept something clean.

The spacious dance floor would be crowded at night, but only three customers were in the place now. At one end of the bar, a man sat hunched over a glass, getting an early start on his drinking. A woman in jeans and a T-shirt sat beside him, talking quietly. Across the room, a man sat at a table. Or rather, reclined. He slouched in one chair with boots propped on another, hands folded on his stomach, and cowboy hat over his face. She hoped he was left over from last night and not sleeping off an early buzz.

She crossed to the bar, trying to ignore that every other step nearly glued her right foot to the floor. The young man with the scrub brush looked up.

“We’re not open.”

Zoe readjusted the purse strap on her shoulder as she flashed a professional smile. “I know. I’m Zoe Larkin from The Alpine Sky. I’d like to speak to the owner, please.”

The young man took his time looking over her business suit as if he’d never seen one before. “He don’t like to be disturbed this time of day. What can I do for you?”

“I’m afraid I can only speak to the owner.”

“Oh. Um, I see . . .” The young man’s gaze flicked to the drunk by the tables, uncertainty obvious in the nervous twitches that pulled his mouth into various puckered shapes as he stammered and stalled.

A chair scraped as the man kicked his footrest out of the way and eased into a sitting position. With the hat centered on his head, she could see the firm lines of his face beneath at least a day’s stubble. It was the rugged sort of face that quickened female hearts and imaginations, and could make a woman lust after cowboys—if she didn’t know she was better off with the suit-and-tie type. He would have looked even better if it weren’t for a put-upon frown that said forcing his body into an erect posture was more work than he’d intended to do all day.

Leaning his forearms on the table, he turned a tired gaze on her. “I’m the owner, lady. What do you want?”

She approached slowly, taking in the wrinkled shirt that went with the faded jeans and worn boots she’d glimpsed earlier. Instead of making him look shabby, they added to the magnetic pull that tickled the nape of her neck and made her wonder what kind of hard living got them that way. His eyes were clear and steady beneath the shadow of his hat, not the bloodshot gaze she’d expected.

He might not be drunk, but if he could sit there and nap while his saloon needed cleaning, he was a lazy slob. She’d spent some time hanging out with people like him, and recognized the type. Party all night, sleep all day, and never do a bit of work you don’t have to do. She’d narrowly escaped getting sucked into that mire herself, and would prefer to stay far away from it. People in Barringer’s Pass had long memories.

Luckily, this would be a brief association. “Are you Jason Garrett?”

“It’s just Jase.”

She stuck out her hand. “Hello, Mr. Garrett. I’m Zoe—”

“Yeah, yeah, Zoe Larkin, assistant manager from the Alpine Sky. I heard.” He waved her hand away. “You wanted the owner, you got him. What do you need?”

She took a deep breath, forcing herself not to glare. It didn’t matter if he was rude, only that he accept her offer. She was fairly certain that hearing it would wipe that irritated look right off his face.

“I’m here to make you an offer on behalf of Ruth Ann Flemming, the owner of the Alpine Sky.” She paused a couple seconds for dramatic effect. “Mrs. Flemming would like to buy the Rusty Wire saloon.”

Behind her, a glass thunked onto the bar. The rhythmic sound of the scrub brush stopped. Jase Garrett didn’t move, not even the flicker of an eyelid. His gaze was steady on hers for several long seconds, while she tried not to fidget. “Is that so,” he finally said.

Since he hadn’t made it a question, she didn’t answer. She wished he’d ask one though, because his thoughtful stare made her nervous.

“What does the exalted Alpine Sky want with my saloon?”

“We would like to expand our business.”

His gaze took a slow trip up and down her suit. “A honky-tonk doesn’t seem like your style.”

“Thank you, it isn’t. But the Alpine Sky doesn’t actually want your saloon, Mr. Garrett. We want your land. As you know, our resort is a popular winter destination for skiers. We would like to offer summer activities, too, which means building a golf course. For that we need a semi-flat piece of land, like the one your saloon sits on.”

The stillness at the bar behind her was palpable, as if all three people were holding their breath. Jase’s shadowed eyes gave nothing away. “You want to tear down the Rusty Wire?”

“I imagine if the building is in good condition, it might be used for something else.” She gave the room a quick glance, deciding not tell him the chances of that were next to zero. “The town’s records show that the lot size, including parking, is two acres. You also own the fifty behind it. Those acres adjoin the Alpine Sky, and they would be ideal for an eighteen-hole course.”

“That land is untouched wilderness.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Garrett, the Rocky Mountains are full of untouched wilderness. You can buy as much as you want. The only thing special about your piece of wilderness is that it adjoins our resort.”

“And it’s flat.”

“Yes, relatively.”

His expressionless gaze held hers for a long time. A barstool squeaked behind her, but she didn’t turn.

“The Rusty Wire’s not for sale.”

She smiled. “You haven’t heard our offer yet, Mr. Garrett. It’s more than generous.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Two point five million.”

Zoe heard the woman suck in her breath. She tried not to look smug as she waited for Jase Garrett’s eyes to widen and his mouth to drop open in shock. It didn’t happen. Nothing happened.

“No, thanks.” He all but yawned.

No thanks, that was it? Irritation prickled just under her skin, making it hard to keep up an appearance of calm. “Mr. Garrett, perhaps you should take some time to explore the price of real estate around Barringer’s Pass. Two and a half million is an incredibly high price for fifty-two acres of mostly undeveloped land.”

Finally, his expression changed. His eyebrows drew together and a muscle clenched along his jaw, a decisive expression that warned her she’d roused a determined man behind the lazy exterior. “I said no, Miss Larkin. That’s my answer. Go make your pitch to whoever owns land on the other side of the Alpine Sky.”

It was more wordy than his other responses, but just as negative. It also revealed their weakest bargaining point. She pressed her mouth together, reluctant to admit what she had to say. “The other side is Federal land. It’s too steep, and even if it weren’t, the government isn’t open to an offer.”

“Neither am I.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, making a big deal out of her reluctance to give in. Let him think he’d made a crafty bargain. She dropped her voice. “I’m not authorized to offer more money, Mr. Garrett, but just between the two of us, if you gave me a counter-offer of three million, I might be able to convince Mrs. Flemming to pay it.”

He actually scowled. “Miss Larkin, I appreciate your dedication to your job, but I’ve given my answer. Now run along.” Tugging his footrest chair closer, he propped his feet up, slouched down, and dropped the hat back over his eyes.

She stared. A show of resistance wouldn’t have surprised her, but she hadn’t been prepared for a flat rejection. Who turned down three million dollars for a crappy saloon and a few acres of trees? She was missing something here, and she wasn’t leaving until she figured out what it was.

Jase waited for the click of heels across the dance floor, interested enough to take a peek at the resort lady’s legs to see if they matched the shapely body he’d detected under that stuffy business suit. For one of the infamous Larkin girls, she wasn’t what he expected. But then, rumors were often wrong.

He didn’t hear retreating footsteps. He poked a cautious finger at his hat brim and lifted it an inch. She was still standing there, her pretty lips pulled into a tight line and her irritated gaze boring into him. A no-nonsense look, right down to the twisty bun-thing she did with what would have otherwise been a beautiful fall of red-blond hair. The kind of hair that shone like it was shot through with fire, waking a man’s fantasies about the hot woman that came with it.

But it wasn’t his fantasies keeping her here. Clenching his teeth over a curse, he pushed the hat up a couple inches. “Miss Larkin, I can’t help but notice you’re still here.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it, Mr. Garrett?”

“What else do you want?”

“I want an explanation. I offered you far more than this old place and that undeveloped land is worth. In fact, my guess is that the Rusty Wire is aptly named, and that rust isn’t even the worst of your problems in a building this old.” She looked around the saloon, taking in the century-old bar along with the new light fixtures and new windows. “You’ve probably had to dump a ton of cash into plumbing and electrical updates, just to mention the obvious. I think it’s safe to assume it takes most of your profits to keep this place up to code.”

That was accurate enough to raise her a notch in his estimation; she wasn’t just some corporate lackey delivering a message. Assistant manager, she’d said. She probably knew a lot about running an establishment that served the public. Not that it would help her argument any. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that I just offered you the equivalent of a winning lottery ticket, and you turned it down without a thought.”

“I thought about it. Maybe I just think faster than you.”

She ignored the jab. “Why would you turn down a small fortune, when keeping the Rusty Wire open will eventually cost you a small fortune?”

He flashed a cocky smile so she wouldn’t know how little he knew about his own saloon’s finances.

“Keeping the Rusty Wire open doesn’t cost me a small fortune, Miss Larkin. If you work up the hill, I’m sure you’ve seen how busy this place is on a Friday or Saturday night. We turn a nice profit. But thanks for your concern.”

Her frown said she wasn’t buying it, and he didn’t want to argue the details, since he didn’t know them. He kicked the chair aside again and got to his feet, walking around the table to place a guiding hand on her elbow. Impulsively, he leaned close, as if to confide a secret, enjoying her light scent as much as the shiver that ran over her skin when his breath touched her ear. “Not that it’s any of your business, Miss Larkin, but you might say I already won the lottery. I don’t need your three million.”

She stared as he guided her out the double doors. Let her figure that one out. “You can’t buy me, Miss Larkin. You run back up to that fancy palace on the hill and tell that to the lady who sent you here. Have a nice day now, you hear?” Before she could argue that with him, he turned and walked back inside, locking the door behind him.

The smile that had lurked in his mind spread across his face. He hadn’t intended to pull her so close, to lean in and inhale her fragrance, but damn, he’d had to know if she felt and smelled as good as she looked. He grinned to himself; she did.

The rest of her visit wasn’t even worth considering. He’d never sell the Rusty Wire. The Alpine Sky might be determined to buy, but they didn’t know what they were up against.

Thankfully, Zoe Larkin hadn’t seemed like the type who was easily discouraged. His smile grew bigger. He hoped the pretty little tycoon-in-training came back to try again.

Zoe fumed as she drove the half mile up the mountain to the Alpine Sky Village. She was a professional, presenting a major business deal. Or trying to. He might as well have patted her on the head and told her to run along. He had told her to run along, the patronizing jerk.

Jase Garrett obviously didn’t know her—she wasn’t a quitter. She was going to do some homework on him, and hope like hell he was too lazy to do any on her. Next time she went to the Rusty Wire, she’d know everything there was to know about both Jase and his saloon, including what might tempt him to sell.

If she was lucky, she could do it before she had to report back to her boss.

She realized how unlikely that was as soon as she crossed the marble floor of the lobby. David was behind the admissions desk. Their new clerk appeared to be hanging on his every instruction, already captivated by her boss’s handsome face and air of authority. It didn’t matter that David was twenty years older than the desk clerk, with hair gone prematurely silver-gray. It never did. They always fell for his sophisticated look and charm, and the cool way he passed all the problems on to Zoe, as if they were no more than minor blips on his radar screen. If James Bond had gone into hotel management and been merely passably good at his job, he would have been David Brand.