Pat Tracy - Burke's Rules

The direction of her thoughts astonished Jayne. The last thing she wanted or needed was an ally as domineering as Burke Youngblood. At the first opportunity, he would become a tyrant.

Loud male voices poured through the window. Jayne winced. She was getting used to being awakened during the night by rowdy revelers.

Burke rubbed his jaw. “After I left today, I did some checking.”

“Checking?”

“About possible sites for the kind of school you want to open.”

He had her undivided attention. “And?”

“I might have found something that will work for you.”

When he failed to elaborate, Jayne assumed he’d devised a new way to torture her. He was going to force her to pry the information from him. Pride tempted her to send him on his way without making any inquiries.

Strange, she hadn’t realized before that an overabundance of pride was a flaw with which she had to contend.

She thought she detected a hint of amusement in his dark eyes. He knew, blast his black heart, that he’d baited his hook with an irresistible lure. Her desire to maintain control over her life warred violently against the untenable situation in which she’d inadvertently placed herself. No one was going to send their daughter to a school that had formerly been a brothel.

From the street below, another spate of rude laughter filled her chamber. Postponing the moment of surrender, which was how she viewed soliciting any information from him, she walked to the window. It appeared that, even after she rid herself of Burke Youngblood’s presence, another raucous night would prevent her from getting a decent night’s sleep.

She stared down at the street. Wild and woolly men seemed to come alive after dark. While under the influence of intoxicating spirits, they weren’t reticent at whooping their nighttime jubilation at the top of their lungs.

Her gaze dropped to the narrow ledge. It was a miracle that Youngblood had reached her in one piece. She frowned. Technically speaking, she supposed the safe arrival of Burke Youngblood in her bedchamber ought not to be termed a miracle. It should be called a catastrophe.

She turned. It was time to forget pride. She would pump him for all the information she could drain, get him to vacate the premises and maintain control of her destiny.

“I’m very interested in hearing about the building you’ve found.”

She was shocked at the physical and emotional distress the moderately expressed words caused. Her skin burned, her throat tightened and her hands shook. Her discomfort sprang from more than the simple act of swallowing her pride. Something about making herself vulnerable to this man sent out a war cry that she don a full coat of armor.

Somehow, on a battlefield utterly alien to her, she and Burke Youngblood had become engaged in a compelling conflict, the scope of which was shrouded in mystery. For a panicky moment, she wanted to run. Reason intruded. Surely it was only her imagination fostering these fanciful images of swordplay, of victors and losers, of...absolute surrender.

“I’ll show you the building in the morning.”

She rubbed her forehead. It made sense to see the location by light of day, but she was uneasy about spending more time in his disturbing company. “All right.”

“Have you packed the things you’ll need to stay at a hotel?”

The blandly asked question made her head snap up. She’d assumed he’d forgotten his demand that she sleep elsewhere. This was it, the one issue upon which she wouldn’t compromise. It was one thing to accept business advice from him. She had to draw the line, however, at letting him dominate her personal life.

She drew a deep breath. “Mr. Youngblood—”

“Burke,” he corrected quietly, straightening from his casual stance at the doorway. “Since we’re going to be working together to get this school of yours established, we. might as well be on a first-name basis.”

Again she experienced the sensation that he was taking over, but calling him by his first name was no grave hardship. “Burke, I’m not staying at a hotel.”

He stepped toward her. “I know you’d rather remain here, but it’s Friday night. The saloons are brimming with miners, cowpunchers, gamblers and fancy women. Tomorrow will be even worse. This building happens to be sitting in the middle of all the excitement. You aren’t safe here, Jayne.”

“I haven’t had any trouble.” She tried to ignore the music, laughter and quarrelsome voices that kept intruding upon their conversation.

“It’s blind luck that trouble hasn’t already found you. Be sensible. Cut your losses and spend the night where you know you’ll be safe.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you explain why you’re determined to involve yourself in my life.” She hadn’t planned on demanding an explanation for his forced entry into her world, but she needed to know what was motivating his sudden concern for her and her school.

A half smile slanted his narrow lips. Her heart performed a most peculiar maneuver—something between a flip and a twist.

“I guess I have been a little high-handed,” he drawled.

High-handed? Again she was put in mind of a military confrontation. Forget the cavalry. He’d thundered into her sphere with the jarring force of barbarian hordes sweeping across ancient Europe.

Doubting he would appreciate the comparison, she searched for words that wouldn’t further inflame his domineering tendencies. “You’ve been acting as if you were the most tyrannical of fathers.”

He flinched, but the smile remained. “Believe me, I have no intention of acting like your father.”

Jayne decided he was. deliberately trying to charm her. She hardly knew how to react. No man had ever focused this form of attention upon her. It was disheartening to discover that recognizing his ploy didn’t free her from his magnetism.

“I can’t believe you take this kind of interest in all Denver’s fledgling businesses,” she pressed determinedly.

“I’d be lying if I said so,” he admitted. “Do you always know the reasons behind everything you do?”

“Of course. One can’t blunder through life.”

“Ah, so I’m dealing with a woman of logic.”

“You’re dealing with a woman who wants to know why you’re willing to invest time, effort and money on her behalf.”

“I assume the suspiciousness I’m detecting is based upon your late aunt’s dire warnings about accepting favors from men.”

“Aunt Euphemia’s philosophy about the male gender has nothing to do with this. Credit me with enough intelligence to recognize you could very well have an ulterior motive for assisting me. I have no intention of placing myself under your influence without knowing what you expect in return.”

Jayne knew she was pink-cheeked, but she needed to know what lay behind his sudden desire to help.

“I approve of your cautious attitude. A number of men might expect certain favors in exchange for their help. A wise woman pays attention to such things. I assure you, though, I have no ulterior motives.”

His eyes held an almost whimsical expression that weakened her resolve to challenge him. She was amazed by the degree of energy it took to withstand his charm. “Trust has to be earned.”

“Life’s taught me the same lesson,” he said quietly. “The reason I’m willing to put my resources at your disposal are twofold. First, I have this character quirk of rooting for underdogs.”

Even though she fit the description, she didn’t appreciate being compared to a four-legged animal. “There has to be more to it than that.”

“There are dozens of businesses I’ve supported through their uncertain beginnings. My basis for consideration is that the owner be absolutely committed to his course and willing to pour all his time and energy into his enterprise. You possess that determination, correct?”