Nicole Foster - Cimarron Rose

Surprised, Katlyn shied back. “Thank you for your concern,” she said, not quite sure whether to believe in his sincerity or not. “I was shaken, naturally. And many of my belongings—and all of my money—were stolen or destroyed. But, I feel lucky. From what I’ve heard, it could have been far worse.”

Katlyn glanced past Case to the openmouthed stares from several of those in the welcome party that told her her fears were justified.

Case released her arm. “I’m sorry. This can be dangerous country.”

“So I gather.”

“Well, then,” he said, resuming his cool distance, “we’ll have to see to a new wardrobe, won’t we?” He turned to Becky, hovering close by. “You help her get what she needs right away. She’ll have to look her best.” With that he turned back to Katlyn, appraising her from the feather on her hat down to her kid boots.

She looked much different than he expected. He’d imagined a red-haired siren, brassy and bold. She had the red hair, an abundance of it, defying her attempt to bunch it into a tame roll. Case couldn’t see any signs of a siren in her, though. The paint stood out boldly on skin as pale as milk, and blue eyes so dark they were nearly violet, looked back at him with an odd mixture of defiance and apprehension he didn’t understand.

“Do I pass inspection, Mr. Durham?”

Case snapped his thoughts back to the job at hand and focused on her face. “You’re every bit as lovely as I’ve heard, Miss Rose. Though, I have to say, you’re younger than I’d expected. You’ve accomplished quite a lot for your age.”

As she felt heat rise to her cheeks, Katlyn was glad for all the makeup to hide it. “I started singing as a child, Mr. Durham.” That part was true at least. “And I’ve never stopped.”

Something unnerving—was it disbelief?—flashed across his face, settling in a single arched brow. “We’re all extremely anxious to hear you. I know you won’t disappoint us.”

Katlyn resisted the urge to fidget with something. “Of course, I’ll need to rehearse before I perform.”

Case looked at her speculatively. “Naturally. Take the entire weekend to rehearse, if you’d like. I’ve scheduled your first performance for Monday night.”

“Monday?” This time Katlyn couldn’t hide the panic. That was only three days away!

“Is there a problem?”

“I—of course not.”

“You must realize, Miss Rose—is that your name by the way?”

“No!” Katlyn blurted before she could stop the word. She forced herself to meet Case’s intimidating gaze. “Penelope Rose is the name I use as a singer. My name is Katlyn. Katlyn McLain.”

“I see,” Case said, sounding as if he didn’t. “Well, as I said when I wrote to you, Miss—McLain, the salary we finally agreed on is based on your ability to draw in new customers. I was completely honest with you in my letters regarding the status of my hotel.” He stepped inches closer. His deep bass voice seemed to resonate through the whole room. “All I ask of you is that you give me the same honesty. Then, Miss McLain, we’ll get along fine.”

Honesty! Katlyn nearly let go a hysterical laugh.

She struggled over a murmured reply, at the same time thinking that of course she could manage to get along just fine with Case Durham. It wouldn’t be difficult at all.

If she stayed as far away from him as possible.

Case broke the awkward silence between them, summoning Becky with a sharp gesture.

“Show Miss McLain to her rooms, please.” He turned back to Katlyn. “I’m sure you’re exhausted from your ordeal. Becky can bring dinner to your suite tonight, if you’d like.”

“M-my suite?”

“Of course.” Case narrowed his probing gaze. “It was one of your requirements for taking the job.”

Katlyn avoided his eyes and busied herself pulling off her white kid gloves. She waved them in a little flirtatious gesture she’d seen her mother use hundreds of times to avoid awkward situations. “Yes. Indeed it was. I must be comfortable if I’m to survive this wild country any length of time at all, mustn’t I?” she said, managing an uncomfortable laugh.

“By all means. We want you to feel at home here.”

The edge of sarcasm in his voice told her he didn’t appreciate her weak attempt at levity.

Glad to escape his unnerving presence, Katlyn eagerly fell in behind Becky as the girl motioned toward the stairs. Katlyn lifted her heavy skirts and petticoats and began the ascent, but halfway up the staircase she stopped cold.

What was she doing! She couldn’t possibly stay here and leave her mother at the boardinghouse. Couldn’t and wouldn’t. That’s where she’d draw the line in this farce.

She turned back around to find Case standing at the foot of the stairs like a centurion looking up after her, back straight, feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed over his broad chest. He stood watching her, staring actually, his expression offering nothing but a handsome mask of cool politeness.

Only his eyes, deep and searching, held any hint of emotion. Annoyance, Katlyn thought.

Case waited impatiently, wondering how a woman who seemed so lacking in poise had managed to become so successful before an audience. He supposed she must be a better actress than she seemed. Perhaps the trip here had unnerved her more than she admitted.

“Is there something else, Miss McLain?” he prompted when she stayed frozen on the staircase, looking down at him as if she expected him to pounce at any moment.

“Actually…there is.”

“Do you intend to tell me, or should I guess?”

Katlyn ran the tip of her tongue over dry lips. “It’s my—traveling companion. She helps me dress and do my hair and makeup. But the robbery and the walk to town had a terribly ill effect on her. Her health has been fragile since the start of our journey and now…well, I’ve secured a room for her elsewhere, but I can’t leave her at the boardinghouse alone.”

Case said nothing, taking his time pondering the situation, much to Katlyn’s irritation.

“She can stay with me,” she said finally, more sharply than she intended. “I wouldn’t ask for another room.” Still he held back, the silence of waiting growing like thunder in her head. “Mr. Durham—”

“Bring the woman here at once,” he answered, his tone an abrupt contrast to his words. “Becky, I’ll have Sally see to the laundry for a time so you’ll be free to help Miss McLain and her companion.”

Becky practically burst with joy. “Yes, Mr. Durham!” The girl leaned close to Katlyn and said, “I’d be right proud to help you and your friend, ma’am.”

Smiling back at Becky in thanks, Katlyn breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She could watch over her mother day and night now. Having Penelope close would make the whole ruse livable.

The doctor would be discreet, she thought. He called her mother Mrs. McLain and neither Katlyn nor Penelope had corrected him. But Penelope had insisted no one else learn of her and Katlyn’s relationship. Lending Katlyn her title was one thing, playing the role of the St. Louis Songbird’s ailing mother was quite another. Katlyn was certain, once the doctor understood her mother’s delicate and volatile temperament, he would agree it was in Penelope’s best interest to keep their secret.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Durham,” she told Case. “I’ll see to having her moved here this evening.”

“I’ll send Bucky along to help.”

“Thank you,” Katlyn nodded, then turned back to climb the stairs to the landing.

“Miss McLain—”

Case didn’t know what impulse prompted him to call her back. Maybe it was the way she kept surprising him. He didn’t like surprises. Or mysteries. And Penelope Rose, Katlyn McLain, or whatever she chose to call herself, was both.