The Invitation (33 page)

“What results?” he repeated, still trying to figure out what she was talking about. He usually understood women; for that matter he usually understood the English language.

She gave a sigh as though she had to explain the simplest thing in the world. “When we…ah, kissed, there was a great deal of attraction between us. I had not thought there would be. I felt no such attraction between us the day I went to see you at your boardinghouse. It is all right to have a fake marriage with a man to whom one feels no attraction, but it is impossible with a man one wants to…to…”

When she saw that there was still no hint of understanding on his handsome face, she continued. “Children, Mr. Hunter,” she snapped. “Children.” She grimaced. “Perhaps a man like you doesn't understand that…that marital rights, so to speak, are not to be exercised for pleasure. What a man and woman do with each other creates children. Based on the feelings we had during our one and only kiss, I think that if we spent any prolonged time together, we would…we would, well, end up in bed together, and I'm afraid of creating a child with you. I cannot imagine a worse father than you—that is, if you stayed around, which I doubt. Either way, I don't want to raise a child alone, nor do I want my child to have a father who knows little more than how to cock a gun.”

For a moment all Cole could do was blink at her. “Is there any whiskey here?” he asked hoarsely, then watched as she handed him the bottle. Unlike her sister, she didn't graciously pour it into a glass. She just handed him the bottle with a schoolteacher look on her face that said, See what I mean?

It wasn't easy, but Cole put the bottle down, then he followed it, sitting heavily on the chair and looking up at her. There was certainly nothing coy about her. She wasn't telling him that she hated him and didn't want to go to bed with him. She was telling him that she'd like nothing more than to jump into bed with him, but if they did that, they might make a child, and he would be a damned poor father. To his knowledge, no one had ever even considered his possibilities as a father. His worth as a fast gun had been considered, yes, and as a peacemaker, and at times as a lover, true, but not as the father to some kid who didn't exist.

Maybe he
was
getting old. This wasn't the way women
used
to act. He remembered women who couldn't think past the first buttons he loosened on their blouses. In the past if he'd kissed a woman and a current of lightning had run through them like the one that had run through him with this woman, neither of them would have thought past the next two hours. Uncontrollable. Without thought. Passion. Old-fashioned passion.

But not with plain little Miss Latham. With her there was no lack of control. She stepped back from passion and said she wanted it, but there were consequences she didn't want. She was, of course, quite sensible. The only other sensible women he had ever met had had no hunger, no fire in their veins. But she did. He had just felt it. Yet she was able to control it.

“Mr. Hunter, are you all right?”

No, he wanted to say. He wasn't all right. He had been all right before he met this woman, but now he was beginning to doubt everything in his life. He had to reassure himself that his life wasn't a waste. He was rootless. He had no home. He'd never had a home. Not that he'd ever wanted one, but if he had wanted one, he would have stayed in one place. And if he ever made a kid with a woman, he didn't think he'd be a worse father than the next man. In fact, he liked to think he had a few things to teach a child. And
not
just things about a gun. He'd learned a bit in his life, and maybe he'd like to pass those things on.

Suddenly it became important to him to make this woman realize that he was more than just a gunslinger. And a hero. If someone else had called him a hero, he would have been flattered, but Miss Latham had made “hero” sound like a mindless person who had no thought of the future consequences of his actions.

“How am I to support myself until my arm heals?”

She looked startled. “I have no idea. Would you like some money? I mean, it is my fault that you…Well, actually, it isn't entirely my fault, but I do feel somewhat responsible for your injury. I can give you a bank draft.”

“I don't want charity. I want a job.”

She gave the tiniest smile—about all she seemed capable of, he thought. “The very next time I want someone murdered I will be sure to hire you.”

He had to admit that the woman got under his skin in a way that no one else ever had. “I do not murder people,” he snapped.

“Certainly not with your arm as it is now.” Her mouth tightened into a prim little line. “Mr. Hunter, I talked to you about your future days ago, before this happened, and at that time your future did not concern you. I even tried to warn you that something like this might happen.”

Why did he feel as though he were being talked to by his mother? She used to say, “I
told
you this was going to happen. But, no, you wouldn't listen to me. You had to have your own way. You never listen to anyone.”

Cole ran his hand over his eyes. If he murdered anyone, it would be this woman. Besides wanting to kill her, he wanted to prove to her that he was worth something. “Miss Latham, you offered me a job, and I accept that offer.”

It was her turn to sit down. “No,” she whispered, “this is a mistake.”

He sensed that he was regaining some power. “Miss Latham, tell me, what do you do with your time?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Your time. What do you do with your time when you are at home in Latham? I can't see you as a sewing circle lady. I can't see you putting on garden parties and teas. What do you do in that town your father left you?”

It was her turn to look surprised. “I can see that you, too, have been doing some research.”

Heaven help him but at a compliment from this scrawny little thing, he felt warmth flow through him. He had to get himself back under control as he waited for her answer.

“I am a landlord,” she said, then paused, and he could see emotions play across her face. So she wasn't a perfect poker player after all. “My father left the town of Latham to me because Rowena had her rich husband.” She paused. “My father did not think there was any possibility that I would find a husband, rich or not, so he left me a means of support. Anyway, Latham is a small town that wouldn't exist except for the railroad, but the few shops and houses there all belong to me.”

“You are a rent collector?” He knew it was petty of him, but he wanted to make what she did sound trivial, just as she had made what he did sound worthless.

“And a roof fixer and a listener-to-reasons-why-the-rent-is-late, and just about everything else in that town. If I may give you some advice, Mr. Hunter, if anyone ever offers to give you a town, don't take it.”

He laughed. “I'll remember that. No one's ever given me that advice before.” For a moment he looked at her, sitting there with her hands folded in her lap. “It seems to me that you need a man for more reasons than just to get your sister off your back.”

“Of course,” she said, giving him that look that said he wasn't very smart. “I know that. I very much want a husband. I wish I had a man to take over the management of Latham. My father was a man who allowed no laxity in people. He was…” She seemed to search for the right word.

“A tyrant?”

“Exactly,” she said, looking up at him, eyes sparkling rather prettily. “He was a dreadful tyrant. I loved him, but I was also terrified of him, as was everyone else. Except, of course, Rowena, but that's another story. My father said that neither of his daughters had any backbone, that we were too soft, but at least I wouldn't get married and turn the whole town over to some scoundrel who wanted only my money, as Rowena might do.”

“Why not?” Cole asked, knowing it was a ridiculous question.

“My father said I was much too sensible to marry a scoundrel. He said I'd marry a sane and sensible man.”

“So why not marry your pepper shaker?” he couldn't resist asking.

“Alfred would have no idea how to be firm with the tenants. I've tried to tell Rowena that Alfred works hard now only because he has to. If he had my money, he wouldn't lift a finger. Under his industrious exterior, he is a very lazy man. I want to find a man who works, one who can take over my father's tenants while I stay at home.”

“You certainly have your life planned in detail.”

“Of course. If one doesn't plan, one spends one's life drifting. That's all right in youth, but we are not always young.”

Cole shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a personal question.” He didn't wait for her permission. “Have you ever done anything that wasn't sensible?”

She didn't hesitate. “I asked a gunslinger to marry me.”

Cole winced. For a moment he had nothing to say, so he reached inside his pocket and removed a thin cigar, but then he found it impossible to hold it and light it at the same time. Maybe it was his vanity, but he was used to women paying attention to him. Had he been in the room with any other female on earth, she would have fluttered about him and helped him light his cigar. But Miss Latham just sat ther watching him, not offering anything.

Annoyed, he tossed the unlit cigar onto the table by the chair. “Miss Latham, you are right. You are right about everything. I'm beginning to feel that my days as a cold-blooded killer are drawing to a close.” He hesitated to give her time to contradict him, but she didn't. “Why don't you and I make a deal? I'll help you if you help me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You came to me a few days ago because you wanted to make your sister believe that you already had a husband so she'd leave you in peace to do your…research, I believe you called it.”

He waited for her nod. “You want to finish your research on finding a suitable husband, a man who can help you collect your rents, stand up to the complaints of your tenants, and be a tender father to your children. Is that about right?”

“Yes.”

“What I need is a place to live for a few months while my arm heals. Also, it might be nice to learn a trade.”

“I see. But owning a town is hardly a trade.”

“Maybe I could learn to run a saloon. Maybe after this is all over I could buy my own place and settle down.”

“This isn't going to work.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because of…you know. We'll never be able to stay apart for very long.”

Cole couldn't believe what he was hearing. Maybe it was because of his looks, but he'd never really had to pursue a woman before. Women always came to him. Oh, they pretended that their encounters with him were accidents, but they weren't. All he had to do was enter a town and within hours several pretty girls would be placing themselves where he could see them. Now here was this runt of a woman—a woman who admitted that no man except one short, bald, spotty-headed man wanted her and then he probably wanted her only for her money—and she was saying that he—he, Coleman Hunter!—wouldn't be able to control himself if he spent much time around her.

“Trust me, Miss Latham,” he said with heavy sarcasm, “I'll manage to control myself.” Even if I have to visit a bordello seven nights a week, he thought. Really, the woman was too much! Her insinuation that he couldn't control himself around her was more than he could take. If nothing else, he wanted to prove to her how wrong she was.

“Knowing Rowena, she isn't going to leave Texas until she sees us married,” she continued, unaware of Cole's thoughts. “If our false engagement lasts for four years, she will stay here and wait for four years. My sister might look soft and sweet, but she is forged iron inside.”

“How could your father have thought his daughters were soft?” Cole mumbled.

Cole knew that in Miss Latham's eyes, his knowledge and skills were worthless, but his life had trained him to make quick decisions. And maybe her words and being shot had made him see things differently. Money aside, what was he going to
do
until his arm healed?

She might not want to go through with her original proposition but Cole had seen the way her eyes betrayed her feeling of guilt when his arm was mentioned. Never in his life had he felt anything but softness for a woman, but this one challenged him. Quickly he decided that he was going to use what he'd come to know about her. If she thought Rowena could be a bully, she'd never seen Cole Hunter in action.

“All right, Miss Latham, while there's no reason for you to feel responsibility for what has happened to my arm, the fact is that except for what you paid me the other day, all the money I have in the world is two dollars and twenty-five cents.” This was the truth, but he had been worse off than this before, yet he'd always found someone to stake him in a poker game and he'd been able to win enough to live on. But she didn't need to know that.

“The way I see it is that you owe me.”

“I have offered to pay you.”