Nicole Foster - Cimarron Rose

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Desperate to help her mother regain her health, she had taken on the older woman's identity as the alluring singer The St. Louis Songbird.She never dreamed as she entertained the crowds that she possessed her own special magic–and an innocent allure strong enough to catch the eye of the enigmatic Case Durham. But was Case a man she could trust with her most guarded secret?Case was surprised by his reaction to the beautiful stranger's voice. And by the fact that her image haunted his waking hours. He couldn't afford an interest in a woman whose reputation was bandied about in saloons. Despite her appeal, he had his daughter's happiness to protect, not to mention his own guarded heart!

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Case touched a hand to her waist to escort her to the stage and felt her tremble. It surprised him, even as he admired her proud walk through the room, looking as if she expected nothing less than adoration from her audience.

As she stepped up onto the stage, Jack Dakota turned on his piano stool and grinned at her, then blew her a kiss. Katlyn’s smile flashed out and Case felt a stab of irritation. He forced it back to introduce her, but it scratched at him as she barely seemed to acknowledge his announcement or the audience awaiting her.

Her eyes instead kept flitting to Jack until Case stopped talking and a few seconds of awkward silence filled the room.

“Well, is she gonna sing or ain’t she?” a harsh voice called from the back of the room.

It jolted Katlyn and for the first time she looked fully at her audience.

She doubted these were the kinds of people Case expected her to entice to the St. Martin. Most of the men looked like the gamblers and roughriders she’d seen around the hotel, and the few women couldn’t even charitably be called ladies. None of them looked particularly impressed.

Case stepped down from the stage and left Katlyn standing there, staring back at the audience. She might have stood there until Case pulled her offstage if Jack hadn’t started playing a lively tune they’d practiced just that morning.

Almost automatically, Katlyn responded and took up the words, her mind racing to remember not only the lyrics, but all the little mannerisms her mother had insisted she use. Jack started up another song as soon as she’d finished, giving her no time to gather her wits.

After finishing the fourth tune, Katlyn sensed disaster looming.

Only half the audience paid her any attention and a few of the men jeered and snickered, not bothering to hide their contempt.

Jack tried to encourage her with a smile, but Katlyn stumbled through the next song, wishing all the while she could simply vanish into the woodwork.

She glanced toward the back of the room as she finished and saw Case. His gaze fixed on her and she caught her breath. The blackness of his expression should have stopped her cold.

Instead, inexplicably, it gave Katlyn a rush of courage. He expected her to fail. All at once she determined to prove him wrong.

With a quick word to Jack, she moved back to center stage and forced herself to ignore the restless audience, the smoky, close air, and to focus on the sweet, soulful music. It wasn’t a song her mother would have chosen, but she decided at that moment, Penelope’s choices weren’t doing her much good.

Katlyn forgot all her carefully memorized lessons and gave herself to the music, all the while keeping her gaze on Case.

“‘I wander lonely, lost,

searching for what’s true

afraid I’ll never know it,

and then I look, and there is you

beckoning me home.

But when I reach out,

there’s only longing,

and truth I cannot doubt,

for I am left alone again

with only the dream of my heart.”’

Case found himself unable to look away.

With a song she had transformed herself. Minutes ago, watching her awkwardly stumble through her repertoire, he’d been certain he’d made one of the biggest mistakes of his life in gambling his future on the St. Louis Songbird.

Now, listening to her, he could almost believe Katlyn McLain was a miracle.

He had never been fanciful, but the magic she worked made him imagine she had opened her heart and let the feelings there pour out through her voice. It softened her, lent her a grace not even green satin and rouge could overshadow.

Katlyn scarcely noticed anyone but Case until she let go the last lingering notes of the ballad. Then she breathed deeply, breaking their locked gazes—and became suddenly aware of the almost awed silence.

Everyone stared at her. Katlyn had the feeling she wouldn’t have shocked them more if she’d stripped to her petticoats and danced a jig.

Her eyes went almost involuntarily back to Case.

He looked back, his face expressionless.

Before Katlyn could try to decipher what that meant, a loud, raucous applause started, interspersed with whistling and demands she sing again.

Katlyn hesitated, then caught up in the warm flood of approval, complied with two more songs, not any of her mother’s, but songs she loved and felt comfortable sharing. By the time she finished, she felt almost giddy with the appreciative response from the audience.

Moving off the stage she went over to Jack to thank him and he caught her hands, bringing them to his lips. “I’d say a celebration is in order. You were wonderful.”

“Hardly that,” Katlyn said, laughing. “It was very nearly the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“I’d gamble on your success, sweetheart. If I had anything left to bet.” Jack winked at her, flashing that rogue’s grin.

His smile was infectious and Katlyn found herself grinning back. “Maybe you’ll get lucky tonight.”

“Only if you agree to join me later for champagne.”

“Oh, Jack, I—”

“Already have an engagement. With me,” Case finished for her smoothly.

Katlyn jerked around to find Case standing beside them. He didn’t look any more pleased than he had when she’d started singing and Katlyn’s high spirits took a plunge. His stance seemed easy but she saw him fingering the cheroot he held as if he needed some outlet for his tension.

What if he asked her to leave? Her heart clenched. She couldn’t lose this job, not now. It meant everything to her, and to Penelope.

But she wouldn’t grovel for him, nor would she allow him to bully her.

“I don’t recall us having any plans together,” she said, facing Case squarely.

Case nearly smiled at her show of defiance. For a woman experienced in pleasing men with her voice, she didn’t hesitate to challenge him, given the chance. “I want to talk to you,” he said. “We can have a late supper in the dining room.”

Jack made a move as if to object, but Katlyn touched his sleeve in warning. Neither of them could afford to be out of work now. She turned to him with a smile, saying lightly, “I know you’re anxious to find a game. I’ll collect my champagne tomorrow, if your luck is good.”

“Count on it,” Jack said. He gave Case a sharp nod before moving off toward one of the crowded gaming tables.

Case watched him for a moment, frowning, and Katlyn couldn’t help contrasting the two men. Jack, with his sun-gilded hair and carefree smile, was all lightness, while Case, dark and imposing, seemed to command her attention just by his presence.

Looking at him, she had a sick feeling he’d arranged this little supper to tell her nicely to leave his hotel. When he turned back to her, Katlyn decided to fling caution aside and confront him. “If you intend to tell me to go, I’d rather you do it now.”

Case raised a brow. “I intend to have supper.” Grinding out the cheroot on the tray at Jack’s piano, he told her shortly, “In two hours, in the dining room. I’ll be expecting you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with one or two of my guests.”

He left her before she could refuse and as Katlyn watched him go, she wondered if her short career as Penelope Rose was over before it had really ever begun.

Katlyn retreated to her rooms to strip off the emerald satin, yank the pins from her hair, and wash away her heavy makeup. After a short rest, she hesitated, then put on the simple dark blue dress she’d worn on the trip to Cimarron. It wasn’t exactly elegant, but it was hers, only one of two that had survived the stage robbery. If she had to wear her mother’s frills to perform, at least she would be comfortable when she stepped offstage.

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