The Widowed Bride. Elizabeth Lane

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“But something tells me, if you wouldn’t accept free help from your brother you wouldn’t accept it from me. This arrangement would be fair, and it could work well for both of us. So, do we have a deal?”

      Hesitation flickered in her eyes. Her amply curved bosom strained the fabric of her blouse as she took a deep breath. “You could have your choice of the rooms. But your meals would be a problem at first. I won’t be able to cook until the kitchen’s set up.”

      “I can make do until then. The food at the hotel is all right, but I’ll confess I’ve been hankering for some good old-fashioned home cooking.”

      “Then I suppose we have a deal, as you say.” Her smile wavered as she stood. “Come on, I’ll show you the rooms.”

      She led the way up the wooden stairs, giving him the pleasure of following behind. With each step, the fabric of her narrow khaki skirt molded to her buttocks, setting his fantasies ablaze. He imagined his hands cupping those rounded moons as he thrust deep between her legs into her tight, wet warmth, pushing toward that instant of blessed release.

      Would she be willing to play by his rules—no messy emotions, no promises, no tears when he walked away for good? A man could never be sure of such things. But a woman like Ruby, delectable, mature and unattached, would certainly know the game. At the very least, he could have a hell of a good time teaching her.

      Damn!

      Ethan brought himself up with a mental slap. He was here to break up a bootlegging ring, not seduce his luscious landlady. If Ruby proved to be involved with the smugglers, he could end up hauling her pretty ass to jail. He’d be smart to remember that when his mind strayed below his belt.

      But meanwhile, there was nothing wrong with enjoying the view.

      The four upstairs rooms were of equal size, with a common bathroom off the central hallway. The plumbing had been added after the house was built and was crude at best. But at least the place had a flush toilet and a tub with running water for the tenants. Downstairs, there was only a toilet and basin for Ruby and the girls. They would have to make do with a washtub or wait their turn to bathe on the second floor.

      It was a far cry from the grand mansion she’d shared with Hollis in Missouri. But at least their lives here would be safe and peaceful. Ruby could only hope her daughters would adjust to their reduced circumstances.

      Ethan Beaudry was prowling from room to room, pausing to check the view from each of the windows. He moved like a panther, lithe, alert and powerful, his presence filling every space he entered.

      Watching from the hallway, Ruby tried to imagine him lecturing to a gallery of students. The picture refused to come together. But then, what did she know? She’d married at nineteen and never attended college. Her only idea of a professor was the aging, bespectacled stereotype she’d read about in books. There was no reason a professor couldn’t be tall and darkly handsome, was there?

      A flash of memory brought back that brief instant in Ethan’s arms. Her senses reveled in the clean, leathery smell of him and the manly contours of his body. Her legs heated and softened beneath her skirt. Oh, this wasn’t good. Not good at all.

      With a deep breath, she willed the memory away. She was a businesswoman and the man was her tenant, nothing more. She would remember that even if she had to remind herself every ten minutes.

      Ethan seemed more interested in the back rooms than the two in front. Again, he checked the windows, pressing close enough to see the muddy backyard below. Not that there was anything down there to see—just rutted tracks where people had left their cars and wagons when they came into town; maybe teenagers as well, who might have used the secluded spot as a late-night lovers’ lane.

      According to the real estate agent, the place had been vacant for nearly a year. The bank had taken it over when its previous owner, an elderly woman, had passed away, leaving an unpaid mortgage. Ruby was just beginning to discover the old boardinghouse’s secrets. But then, she had secrets of her own. Maybe in time she’d begin to feel a sort of kinship with the old place. Maybe in time it would even become home.

      Ethan was bending over the single bed in the south room, scowling as he tested the worn cotton mattress with his fist. The springs squeaked as he pushed up and down. Heaven save her, was he planning on having lady friends up? Maybe she should have asked more questions before agreeing to have him as a tenant.

      “The beds are old, but you can have your choice of them,” she said, stepping into the room. “I don’t mind your moving things around.”

      “This one will do fine.” He straightened. The sunlight pouring into the room heightened the gold flecks in his dark brown eyes.

      “The room hasn’t been cleaned yet.” Ruby focused on brushing a speck of lint off her skirt. She was alone with a compellingly attractive man in what had just become his bedroom. Maybe this arrangement was a mistake.

      “It’ll be no trouble for me to clean it,” he said. “But I’ll need a desk or a table for my work. Do you have anything I can use?”

      “Not that I can spare.” Ruby had already taken an inventory of the sparse furnishings. “But the agent told me there was some older furniture stored in the cellar. Maybe there’s something useful down there.”

      “You haven’t looked?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Spiders?” A knowing twinkle lit his eyes.

      She feigned a shrug. “Actually, I haven’t had time.”

      “Then what do you say we go down there now, together? If you see anything you want, I’ll haul it up the stairs for you.”

      His suggestion struck Ruby as a sensible idea. Loath as she was to admit it, the thought of entering that dark, spider-infested cellar alone made her skin crawl. She’d plumbed a well of excuses to put off going down there. But with Ethan leading the way, the prospect didn’t seem so daunting.

      She followed him downstairs to the kitchen, her eyes lingering on the muscular outline of his shoulders. His black hair grew low on the back of his sun-bronzed neck. Ruby suppressed the urge to reach out and brush the curls clear of his collar. How would he react if she touched him? Would he take it as an invitation?

      As a stranger, Ethan would have no idea what she’d done to her husband. Here in Dutchman’s Creek, only a few people did—Jace and Clara, of course, as well as Clara’s family and Sam Farley, the elderly town marshal. None of those good people would reveal her secret on purpose. But scandal had a way of oozing into the open. Sooner or later word was bound to get out. What would the people in town—like her new tenant—think of her when the truth was revealed? For her own sake, Ruby no longer cared. But for the sake of her innocent young daughters…

      Maybe she should have settled someplace else—a place where no one knew about her past.

      But she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Right now she had more urgent concerns—and one of them was walking right in front of her.

      Ethan had said he was looking forward to some good home cooking, a reasonable expectation for any boarder. With no money to hire a cook, Ruby would have to run the kitchen herself.

      Unfortunately, she’d grown up in a home where meals were prepared by a housekeeper. Upon her marriage to Hollis Rumford, she

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