Romancing The Runaway Bride. Karen Kirst

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СКАЧАТЬ read about the three men who founded the town and how it’s grown by leaps and bounds. Have you been here since the beginning?”

      Her gaze slid away. “Not quite. I arrived a couple of months ago.” Picking up the saucers, she held them close to his nose. “Do you like cake? I could use an objective opinion.”

      Adam allowed the attempt at diversion. “Which one has the pepper in it?”

      “I can’t tell you. That would alter the outcome.”

      “This all sounds suspiciously scientific.”

      She laughed. “It’s just cake.”

      He moved closer and bent to sniff the first slice. Pinching off a corner, he popped it in his mouth. “It’s good.”

      Deborah’s brows lifted in a silent bid for more. He took a second, larger bite. “Very good. The chocolate flavor is there. Not too sweet.” What else did she expect him to say?

      “Try the other one.”

      Since he didn’t detect even a hint of heat in the first sample, he reluctantly did as she instructed. Cayenne pepper in dessert. Who would’ve thought to put—

      “Oh.” The combination of rich chocolate melded with a layer of subtle spice to tease his taste buds. “That’s interesting.”

      “Do you like it? Is it too much?” She put the plates down with a clink. “I was aiming for the perfect balance. This is my third attempt. Be glad you weren’t around to try the first.” Her nose scrunched. “I must’ve drunk four glasses of milk that night, trying to cool my tongue.”

      Adam was glad, too. “I like it. It’s unexpected.”

      Her eyes sparkled, and she looked pleased. “The unexpected can be fun.”

      “Or painful.”

      “True, but success is rarely achieved on the first attempt.”

      Their gazes locked across the expanse of cooking utensils. A breeze wafted through the open windows on their right, scented with the blossoms crowding the painted wooden boxes affixed to the outside sills. In her pretty pastel dress, the bloom tucked against her hair, Deborah Frazier was like a nostalgic summer dream. Adam’s thoughts started to drift from his task.

      He couldn’t recall the last time he’d met a woman who made him think about moonlit strolls and picnics by the water. At eighteen, he’d escaped his family’s Missouri ranch—and the devastation wrought by Zane Ogden—to join the Union army. There’d been no chance to think about romance during those long, cruel years. And once he’d hung up his uniform, he’d accepted an offer to join Allan Pinkerton’s detective agency. Rooting out criminals and dispensing justice had consumed him, mind, body and soul. He couldn’t rest until he put the man who’d destroyed his family behind bars. That meant no distractions.

      Deborah Frazier wasn’t comfortable with his questions. Nor did she offer the slightest bit of extra information about herself. His instincts insisted she had secrets to hide. If she turned out to be the person aiding and abetting his quarry, Adam would personally see she got the punishment she deserved.

      He scraped his hand along his jaw, startled when skin met skin. He’d decided to shave his substantial beard for this case. He’d also traded his usual attire for a formal three-piece suit, complete with bolo tie and a pair of bona fide cowboy boots. Adam Draper, Missouri cattleman, had pockets that were well-lined. And he wouldn’t allow an opportunity to flirt with a beautiful woman pass him by.

      He affixed a teasing smile on his face and, reaching across the table, brushed a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth. “If I were able to secure a room here, would I be required to sample more desserts?”

      Surprise lit her eyes. She pressed trembling fingers to her cheek. “Well, I suppose I could use someone to assist me in that manner. If you wouldn’t mind...”

      Adam straightened. She wasn’t accustomed to flirtation, then. Why the notion should please him, he couldn’t say. Steady, old boy. Remember, the best criminals are sometimes the most accomplished actors.

      The door in the far corner that led to the rear stoop opened and closed. A woman he guessed to be in her sixties bustled in. She took one glance at the pair of them and, plopping her sacks on the counter, jammed one fist against her ample hip.

      “And who might you be?”

      * * *

      Deborah watched as the handsome stranger softened Aunt Mae’s bristling attitude with a dazzling smile and earnest manner. He indicated that he was in town to scout out potential locations for his expansive ranching operation and would need a room indefinitely. The promise of steady income pleased the businesswoman, of course.

      As the pair made to exit the kitchen, the look Adam Draper shot over his shoulder at Deborah remained seared in her mind the rest of the afternoon. There’d been a flicker of something so dark and forbidding, it struck fear in her heart and sent her thoughts scattering to St. Louis and the arranged marriage she’d escaped with hours to spare. Her father was still furious, according to her sister’s telegrams, and still scouring the state for her. But Cowboy Creek was so new it wasn’t on the map. Surely, he wouldn’t think to look in Kansas.

      By the time the evening meal had been placed on the table, she was convinced she’d misinterpreted things. Mr. Draper was the first of the guests to arrive. He entered the wide, airy dining room and greeted her with an easy grin. His deep brown eyes hadn’t lost their intensity or intelligence, but they weren’t locked on her in suspicion, either.

      Her stomach dipped. Yep, still devastating. Her mind hadn’t mistaken that fact. He was tall, tanned and in excellent physical condition. The pressed navy suit he wore fit his rip-cord-lean frame to perfection. His straight, nearly black hair was brushed off his face, the better to savor his sculpted features. He had an aristocratic nose, defined cheekbones and unyielding jaw. That stubborn set to his jaw made her question if his charm was just an act.

      “Good evening, Miss Frazier.” He strolled around the square-shaped room taking its measure, peering through the window glass at the street traffic, running his fingers along the fireplace mantel, admiring the landscape paintings on three of the four walls.

      “Good evening, Mr. Draper.” She shifted the salt and pepper containers closer to the ceramic candleholders and fiddled with the folded napkins. “Did you find your room agreeable?”

      He took up position behind a nearby chair, his hands curled around the topmost wooden slat. There was no gold ring, nor a line to evidence he’d ever worn one.

      “I did, indeed. Aunt Mae put me on the second floor. I’ve a corner room overlooking the main thoroughfare, which means I’ll have a bird’s-eye view of events.” He winked.

      He was in the room opposite hers, then. While Aunt Mae preferred to keep the men and women in separate areas, the house wasn’t large enough to do so. Deborah wasn’t sure how she felt about his continued presence in what had become more than a temporary hideout. The memory of his thumb sweeping over the edges of her lips caused her skin to prickle with awareness. He’d already caught her in an unusual situation...how long he’d observed her unawares was anyone’s guess. She didn’t wish to imagine all the different ways she could embarrass herself in front of him.

      He СКАЧАТЬ