Sullivan (28 page)

His smile faded. "This isn't about me at all, is it?"

"Well, just a little," she said softly.

Jedidiah's sharp gaze crossed the room and landed on Sin. Sin ate his lunch and pretended he was all alone, in this room and in the world. "I don't want to be tied down. The idea of living the rest of my life in one place, with one woman, scares the hell out of me."

"But the
right
woman..."

"Doesn't exist," Jedidiah interrupted. "Not for someone like me. I might enjoy being married, for a while, but eventually I'd get itchy feet and want to move on. That's not fair to a good woman."

She knew he was no longer talking about himself. "But what about love?"

Jedidiah shook his head and dug into his lunch. "Like the concept of the right woman, it isn't real. It's just... attraction between a man and a woman prettied up a bit."

Eden's lower lip trembled. She wanted love more than anything. More than that, she needed it.

"Now, those greenhorn fellas, like Mayfield and Cooper, I reckon they think differently," Jedidiah added, no doubt realizing his mistake. "They likely want the same kinds of things you do. Home and family and all that. When you get back to Georgia, you'll see what I mean."

For once, she didn't argue with him about returning to Georgia. For once, she considered that maybe he was right. "I really don't belong here," she whispered. "I've been such an idiot."

"No." Jedidiah shook his fork at her. "You are not an idiot. You just didn't know what you were getting into when you headed for Rock Creek."

"Sometimes I only see what I want to see."

"Sugar, that doesn't work out here," Jedidiah said kindly. "You've got to keep your eyes open at all times, else you'll run smack dab into a scorpion or a rattlesnake and that's your ass."

Eden glanced toward Sin, who had quickly finished his lunch and headed for the lobby with long, impatient strides. "A rattlesnake," she muttered.

When she looked at Jedidiah again, he had a wide, satisfied grin on his face.

* * *

From the hotel lobby, Sullivan watched Eden saunter down the stairs. She had adapted, in many ways, to her new environment. Her hair was loosely piled on her head, the style not so severe as it had been when he'd first met her. Her blouse was loose and cool, her skirt a bright blue, color in an otherwise colorless landscape. She carried a large basket of dirty clothes.

In the two days since their argument in the garden, they hadn't spoken a single word to each other. When it was his watch, he quietly kept an eye on her. When it wasn't his watch, he stayed across the street or in his room.

She was still irate, but on occasion he caught a glimpse of unbridled softness in her eyes. Softness and hope. If he was going to scare her off, if Eden was going to break down and ask to go home to Georgia, the last bit of that hope had to go.

"I need to go to the river," she said crisply.

"That's not a good idea."

"The well is low, and I have laundry to do."

"Let Ethel do the laundry," Sullivan seethed.

"This is a personal chore, not hotel laundry," Eden snapped. "I will do my own laundry. If you don't want to go with me, fine. Stay here." She spun around and stalked toward the back door.

Sullivan cursed as he followed her. She knew damn well he couldn't let her go alone.

"Watch your language, Mr. Sullivan," she said. "This is a
family
hotel."

He opened the back door and Eden stepped through without looking at him. He almost offered to take the basket from her as they walked through what had once been a garden, but he thought better of it and kept his hands and his offers of help to himself as they headed toward the river.

The walk was long, but not arduous. On a pleasant autumn day it was nice to be outdoors, he had to admit. He'd been spending too much time indoors lately, in the hotel and the saloon. Something inside him wanted to be on the trail again, but he couldn't leave until this business with Eden was taken care of.

She walked ahead of him, her hips swinging beneath that blue skirt, strands of pale hair escaping the bun and falling to her shoulders and beyond. He wanted her still, damn it. He wanted her as much as he ever had. Maybe more.

The land was greener by the river than it was in town. A few tall oak trees shaded much of the bank, and the grass here was thick and soft. Wildflowers grew in abundance along the bank.

"I should bring Millie here one afternoon," Eden said as she set her basket on the ground. "She'd love these flowers."

"Yes, she would." He had a vivid memory of Eden with an orange flower in her hair, smiling at him. He fought to push that memory back. It was too pleasant. Too tempting.

Eden carried her basket closer to the river, over by a grouping of rocks, and kneeled by the flowing water. She went about her chore without another word, scrubbing at spots with vigor, washing and rinsing and wringing with all her might. He had a feeling she was taking her rage out on the linen and calico that passed through her hands.

He'd never imagined that a woman doing laundry in the river could be seductive, but with the sun on her pale hair and the gentle way she leaned toward the water, Eden was a tempting sight. Powerfully tempting. If he didn't care about her at all, he'd tell her he loved her, take what he could get, and ride out of town when the time came—when he got tired of her, when she got sick of him, when the road called to him stronger than she did.

But he did care about her. He didn't want to make her think they had something that would never work and then leave her. It wasn't fair.

Fair? When had he ever cared about what was fair? Hell, he was even beginning to think like her!

He leaned against a tree and watched while she wrung out the last of her laundry and put it in the basket. When she turned to face him his heart sank. There it was again, that soft, hopeful, yearning expression that said too much.

She went to lift the basket and grunted. The wet clothes were much heavier than the dry ones had been.

"I'll carry it," he said, stepping into the sunlight and heading for the bank, trying like hell to ignore the expression on Eden's face. Maybe he shouldn't ignore it. What had Cash said? A good dose of reality.

Instead of reaching down to pick up the basket, he grabbed Eden, pulled her tight against him, and kissed her. Hard. There was no tenderness in the kiss, just want, and need, and demand. He grabbed her hair and tilted her head back to allow greater access to her mouth. He got lost in her smell and her taste. He couldn't kiss her deeply enough.

He held her tight so she could feel his erection, so she'd know what she'd done. When she started to respond—softening against him, kissing him back—he pulled away, breaking the contact with a sudden fierceness that left him light-headed.

"You don't look at a man like that unless you're willing to spread your legs for him."

Her eyes went wide, and her face lost its color.

A good dose of reality.
"You think that just because I don't love you, that just because I won't be your goddamned bellman, that I don't want you? Sex," he whispered, "and what you want, have nothing to do with each other. Men and women have sex every day, without love, without promises. That's what we have."

She swallowed hard. "I don't believe you."

He scooped the basket from the ground and turned from her. "Of course you don't," he snapped."If it's not what Eden fancies, it must not be." He glanced over his shoulder to see that she followed. "Sorry, honey, but everything in this world doesn't fit into your orderly little plan. Sometimes a stray turns mean."

She increased her step. "That stray business again!" she snapped as she climbed the hill behind him. "I swear, Sin, you are the most impossible man...."

He heard the shot just as the tree trunk not two feet from Eden's head exploded. His heart nearly stopped as he dropped the laundry basket and lunged to knock Eden to the ground and cover her body with his.

***

She couldn't breathe! She couldn't see anything, either, until Sin slithered to the side, dragging her with him, shielding her body with his own as he pulled her behind the tree and drew his gun.

"Someone shot at us," she whispered breathlessly.

"Honey, someone shot at
you,
" he muttered as he peered around the tree to scan the horizon.

Holding her breath, she waited for another shot to be fired, for whoever had been tormenting her to come charging over the hill. Was it the person who'd written the notes? Curtis Merriweather? Someone else she'd annoyed since arriving in Rock Creek?

Sin crouched down beside her. "I didn't see anything," he said softly. "Whoever it was might've fired once just to scare you and then run off."

"Might've?" she whispered.

He looked her in the eye. "There are lots of places to hide out there. A boulder, a few hills, another tree."

She tried to melt into Sin, feeling safer with every shift that moved her closer to him. "So, what do we do?"

"We wait," he said grudgingly. "I would try to move forward and check those hiding places, but that would mean leaving you unprotected and I can't do that." He sounded almost as if this were her fault! "I don't suppose you're carrying that derringer with you today."

Eden shook her head in response. Since their violent run-in with the Merriweathers, she hadn't had any desire to arm herself. She was sure she couldn't possibly fire at another human being, no matter who it might be.

"Until I moved West, no one had ever tried to shoot me. First the Merriweathers and now this." She sighed.

"Once you get back to Georgia it's likely no one will ever shoot at you again."

She glanced up into Sin's face. He wasn't looking at her. He kept his eyes peeled for the enemy, whoever that might be. Since his attention was elsewhere, she felt free to look her fill.

When she'd first seen him, he'd been such a mess! One eye swollen shut, cuts and bruises and knots marring the surface of his face. But he'd healed with no physical reminder of the beating but a small scar near his eye, the remnant of a cut that still might fade completely, with time.

The face she saw now was valiant, and handsome, and vital. Long hair was a symbol of his defiance. His narrowed eyes were suspicious, wary of everyone. High cheekbones and a strong jaw were gifts from his father, she supposed. Perhaps the hint of softness in his heart, the kindness he tried to hide, was what he carried of his mother.

"Sin?" she whispered.

He stiffened. "What?"

"I'm sorry for what I said the other day in the garden. I've been thinking about it...."

"Don't," he snapped. "You made it pretty clear what you wanted. So did I. There's no need to hash it out all over again."

"I shouldn't have called you uncivilized," she said. "I was angry and I didn't mean it."

He glared down at her. "Yes, you did, and you were right. You're a
lady
who wants a home and a family. I'm an uncivilized half-breed bastard...."

"Don't say that."

"It's the truth." He scanned the horizon again, effectively dismissing her.

Eden wasn't ready to be dismissed. "You think all we have is physical," she whispered. "Sex and nothing else. I don't agree, but... but..."

"But what?" Sin snapped.

"Maybe it's enough," she whispered.

He slowly turned his head to look down at her. She saw the surprise in his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I think what I said is pretty clear," she said, blushing. "Maybe I'm wrong to expect you to change who you are just to be with me. Maybe I should take what we have and be happy with it. Surely there are worse reasons to be married than... than sex." She could feel herself blushing again. "It's powerful, almost otherworldly. I... I forget myself when you touch me. I want you until I hurt with it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes."

"Eden." He said her name through gritted teeth. "You don't know what you're saying."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his chest. "I'm saying I love you and I'll take what I can get. I'm putting my pride aside for you, Sinclair Sullivan. I'm making a fool of myself because I'd rather live with a little bit of you than everything from any other man."

"You're going back to Georgia as soon as this is over," he said, no room for argument in his stern voice. "And once you're there you'll know I'm right about this. You're not the first woman to confuse lust with love and you won't be the last."

"You're going to make me go back, even if I don't want to?"

"Yes."

"Even if I beg to stay here?"

"Yes."

Sin sounded like he'd made up his mind and there was no use in arguing with him now.

"And until then?" she asked.

He turned his head to look at her, a hint of puzzlement in his eyes. "Until then?"

She smiled. "Come to me tonight. If it's just sex and nothing more, you have nothing to lose. If it's just physical, no one's heart is at stake. After I return to Georgia we'll never see each other again, and it seems a shame to waste whatever time we have left."

Eden had no intention of surrendering so easily, of giving up on Sin without a fight. She had no intention of leaving, either, but now wasn't the time to tell him so. She also didn't think it would be wise to tell him that while he might make her return to Georgia, he couldn't make her
stay
there.

"Who knows?" she whispered. "Maybe by the time I leave we'll be so tired of each other we'll both be glad to part." She knew full well that she would never be tired of Sin, but she didn't want to fight with him right now. She wanted the healing to start.

"Tonight," he whispered.

She grinned. "And this afternoon, I'm thinking of cleaning the tub."

Chapter 19