After the Ashes(6)

Caring what happened to a silly woman increased Braddock’s strong desire to march to the saloon and get blind drunk. He hadn’t given a damn about anything in a long time and he wanted to keep it that way. The sky turned purple outside, painting the wood framed buildings that lined Arriba’s one street deep blue.

Braddock lay back on his bed. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not tonight. He didn’t feel like sitting outside Sullivan’s place while the outlaw and the woman were inside doing things Braddock refused to imagine, but did every time he closed his eyes. He shifted, suddenly feeling all the lumps in the mattress.

A soft knock at the door brought Braddock swiftly to his feet. He grabbed his pistol from the holster hanging over the room’s only chair. Silently he slid across the room.

He eased the door open.

The woman from Sullivan’s ranch stood in the hallway, clutching a pink satin bag. A lantern in the hall spilled light over her glossy dark hair and the pale skin exposed by her off the shoulder gown. A satin vee highlighted a low neckline, revealing some deep, purposely tempting cleavage. His gaze dropped briefly to a skirt with a dozen pink bows, but quickly returned to the shimmering band of ribbon that framed the gown’s best feature. This was a package too pretty to resist.

He opened the door wider. Her appearance didn’t surprise him, though he almost wished it did. The high-and-mighty act she’d regaled him with at the ranch ran shallow.

“What do you want?”

He stuck his gun in the front of his wool pants, where she could see. It caught her attention. Then her glance strayed to the swatch of bare chest exposed by his open shirt. She actually looked more horrified by the latter. She averted her gaze, her perusal not reaching his face. Her grip on her purse tightened.

“I’d like a moment of your time, Mr. Braddock, if I may?”

He raised his eyebrows, resisting the urge to laugh. She’d showed up at his hotel room in this outfit and had the nerve to act a mannered lady? He had every intention of telling her to drop the pretense, but the way she held herself, stiff and proper, stopped him. Or maybe it was just the amusement of playing such a silly game. He bowed slightly from the waist.

“Please, come in, Miss...?”

She seemed to relax at his tone. Her waltz past the threshold rustled her rose-colored skirts, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. “Sullivan. Lorelei Sullivan.” She limply offered him her dainty, gloved hand.

“Sullivan. Of course. Corey’s sister.” He cradled her fingers in his palm and pressed his lips to the satin in a whisper of a kiss.

She withdrew her hand, then fluttered deeper into his den, looking for a place to land. Braddock removed the globe from the kerosene lamp mounted to the wall. He used the matches tucked into a metal pocket beside the base to light its wick. Gently he shut the door, then turned the key in the lock.

She spun at the sound, then backed toward the window as if she had walked into a trap.

He stalked her, no longer content to play her game. But her tempting bait hovered over a dark hole. Before he bit, he intended to find out what lay in wait. If she planned to entice him to step in front of the window so her lover could get off a good shot, she was going about it all wrong. She would be the one who wound up hurt.

“Step away from the window.”

She slid sideways, her back pressed against the wall. “If you like, I can wait outside while you finish dressing.”

“Why? We both know you came here to get me undressed.”

He put his hands on his hips, letting his open shirt fallback. He fondled her with his gaze, blatantly enjoying the way her gown pushed up her breasts and cinched her waist. She definitely possessed the figure for this job she was doing.

“I came here to talk about Corey.” The woman’s cheeks flamed and she practically choked on her words. She might have agreed to seduce him, but she obviously didn’t like it.

Braddock found himself angry. “Why did you let a man like Sullivan put you up to this? You’re no whore. Not yet, anyway.”

She raised her chin, finally meeting his gaze. “You don’t know what I am. And Corey didn’t put me up to this. He’s innocent, and I have to make you believe that.”

“Fine. Let’s see what you can make me do.” Steeling himself against compassion, he shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it over the foot of the bed. “Come here.”

She flattened herself against the wall. “I just want to talk to you.”

“I don’t feel like talking.”

She edged along the wall as if she were making her way toward the door...or his gun belt. In two swift steps he blocked her path. He draped the belt over his shoulder.