Justin's Bride. Susan Mallery
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“May I help you, sir?”
Justin needed a minute to let his temper cool off before he spoke to Megan. Starting a fight with her the moment he saw her wouldn’t help his investigation.
He glanced at the counter in front of him and pointed. “A penny’s worth of candy.” He pulled the coin out of his vest pocket.
Andrew measured out the hard sweets, then dropped them into a piece of brown paper and twisted the ends together. “Anything else?”
Justin took the offered package. “I’m the new sheriff in town. About a month ago, a woman was killed and I’m looking into her murder. Her name was Laurie Smith. She worked in one of the saloons. Did you know her?”
Andrew’s still-pimply face blushed bright red. He ducked his head toward his chest. “N-no,” he muttered, his voice cracking on the single syllable. He cleared his throat. “I don’t go to saloons much. My ma doesn’t approve.”
“You never paid for her company?”
Andrew looked up, his gaze stricken, then looked away. From the deepening of the flush on his cheeks, it looked as if the boy had never had the pleasure of bedding a woman. Justin shook his head. He felt old. Very old.
“Your time will come, son,” he said.
Andrew’s answer was unintelligible.
Justin glanced around the crowded store. Several women were having a lively discussion over a fashion book. A couple of farmers had spread out packages of seeds. He glanced back at the clerk. “Where’s Miss Bartlett?”
“In the back.”
Justin started in that direction.
“Sir, you can’t go there. It’s private.”
He shot Andrew his coldest look. “Official business, young man.”
That froze the boy in place. Justin weaved through the shoppers and ducked behind a curtain.
* * *
Megan bent over her task, trying to tally the number of bolts of calico she was ordering. They would arrive in plenty of time for the fall Harvest Dance. With spring and summer crops bringing in extra coin, lots of people liked to buy an extra garment or two. She wanted to be prepared.
But as she moved her pencil down the neat row of figures, the tiny calico kitten batted it away.
“You’re not helping,” Megan said, trying to sound stern.
The kitten looked up at her. Her pretty face was as multicolored as the rest of her, as if God had changed his mind about her several times, but hadn’t bothered to erase what he’d already started. Her belly, paws and half of her face were white. There were blotches of orange, black and an intriguing sprinkling of tabby on the rest of her body. Her tail was ringed all the way up to the solid black tip.
“You should be as ugly as a groundhog,” she said, picking up the kitten and holding her close. The little cat nestled against her chest and purred contentedly. Megan leaned back in her chair and stroked the little animal’s soft coat.
“I see you’re working hard.”
The male voice shocked her. She straightened immediately, causing the kitten to meow in protest. Megan looked up and saw Justin leaning against the doorway of her office. The room was small enough without him taking up all the space. She scooted the chair back to put more distance between them, but the file drawers behind her didn’t give her anywhere to go.
He was too tall, too broad, altogether too masculine. Her father had been gone long enough for her to have removed all traces of him from the office. This was her domain now; she was in charge. But just seeing Justin standing there made her feel helpless and fluttery. With his hat pushed back on his head, she could see his eyes, but she didn’t want to look there. She didn’t want to see his expression and perhaps know what he was thinking.
His scent came to her—the cool freshness of the sunny afternoon, the faint smell of her store and something else, something wholly male and wholly Justin. She recognized the fragrance. It had clung to her clothing last night for a brief time, reminding her of his kisses.
She set the kitten on the desk, then stood and smoothed her skirt. “Good afternoon, Justin,” she said, hoping her voice sounded calmer than the thundering of her heart. “This is a surprise.”
“I came to make a purchase.” He held up the small paper package, then nodded at the kitten. “And to check up on her. She seems quite happy. Have you given her a name?”
“Alice.”
He raised one dark eyebrow.
She tilted up her chin slightly. “She’s my cat. I can name her what I like.”
“Alice?”
“I’ve never liked those silly names like Boots or Snowball. I wanted to give her a real name. Something she could be proud of.”
He took a step closer. In the tiny office, that action left less than two feet between them. She tried to slow her breathing.
“She’s just a cat,” he said.
“I know, but...” Her words died in her throat when he reached toward her. Her body began to hum in anticipation. Her palms got sweaty and her blood heated. He was going to touch her, right here in her office where anyone could come in and—
He stretched his arm past her and picked up the kitten. “Good afternoon, Alice,” he said softly and stroked the animal under the chin. The kitten looked up at him, then started to purr. Her rumble seemed far too loud for a cat her size.
Megan abruptly sat in her chair. She understood exactly how Alice felt. If Justin had touched her, she would have purred as loudly. She’d told herself she could survive anything for a year. This was the second day of his stay and already she was in trouble. She had a bad feeling it was going to be a very long twelve months.
“I want to talk about the murder,” he said. His voice was still low and pleasant, but when she looked at his face she saw the tightness in his expression. “About a month ago a saloon girl was killed. What do you know about that?”
“Nothing. Why would I?”
He set the kitten on the desk. “Because someone who lived here for many years was brutally murdered. She didn’t die in her sleep or have an accident. Someone found her and beat her to death.”
Megan folded her arms in front of her and clutched at her waist. Justin’s anger was a tangible force in the room. It filled the small space and used up all the air until she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
“I’d heard—”
“Nothing. I know. Damn.” He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair. Brown eyes bored into hers. “What is wrong with all you people? Why doesn’t anyone care about her? Why didn’t you want to know what happened?”
“I didn’t know her. Of course, I’m sorry she met with such an unfortunate fate, but there is no reason for me to know a saloon girl.”
“That makes her death all right with you.”
“No.” She grabbed the arms of her chair and glared at him. “Not at all. I wouldn’t want anyone to die like that.”
“Weren’t you concerned for yourself? Your safety?”
She drew her eyebrows together. “Why should I be? Someone who wanted her dead wouldn’t be interested in a respectable woman.”
Justin bent over her and placed his hands on the arms of her chair, trapping her fingers under his. His coat fell open, blocking her view of the rest of the room. His face was inches from hers. “How do you know?”
She wanted to get away, but squirming would be undignified. She refused to let him know how he was upsetting her. “The sheriff