Wildstar

The Englishman stared coldly.

"Think of it, Burke . . . all those court costs and law­yers' fees, not to mention the expense of equipping an army of guards. A half million dollars in lawsuits could prove to be a drain even on your vast resources. Even if you consider it worth the cost to break Riley Sommers, you won't succeed. Because I'll be there to stop you. And I'm warning you now, if anything more happens to either Jessica Sommers or her father, or their mine . . . anything at all . . . one more accident, big or small, you're a dead man. I'll take you out personally. And if I'm not around to do it, I'll hire it done." He paused to let his words sink in. "You can't win this one, Burke. You won't win this one."

A full minute went by while the Englishman considered his options. "What do you want from me, Mr. Devlin?" he said finally.

"I want you to back off."

"Very well. I agree."

"No more attacks on the Wildstar. No more attempts to buy Sommers out."

"I said I agree."

Devlin's eyebrow rose. Burke's capitulation had been al­most too easy. He wondered if there was a hidden catch. "You've made a wise decision."

The silver king's smile was dry. "When presented with unpleasant alternatives, I can be a very pragmatic man." He hesitated, looking uncomfortable again. "For what it's worth, I never meant this situation to get so out of hand. I certainly never intended anyone to be hurt."

Devlin narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You want me to believe you had nothing to do with dynamiting the Wildstar?"

"Yes, since it's the truth. I did instruct my mine foreman to pursue ownership of the Wildstar, but perhaps he was a bit too zealous. I have no proof that he engineered the ex­plosion, of course, but it's likely he had a hand in it."

"You're talking about Hank Purcell?"

"Yes."

It was Devlin's turn to remain silent. His jaw muscles clenched as he thought of what he would do to Purcell when he caught up with him. "I trust you intend to rein him in," he said with more casualness than he felt.

"Oh, indeed. I intend to fire him. I don't keep men in my employ who can't follow orders." The hard edge in the Englishman's clipped reply made it apparent he was quite, quite angry.

Holstering his revolver, Devlin stood up. "Then I think our future association will be quite amiable." He touched his hat with mock politeness. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Burke. No, don't trouble yourself to get up. I'll show myself out."

The sounds of men's voices raised in argument woke Jess from a drugged sleep. She rolled over with a groan, every muscle in her aching body feeling like it had been pounded with a drill hammer. Clem was shouting something, and oc­casionally her father's calmer tones would reply.

Annoyed, she dragged a pillow over her head in a vain attempt to drown out the harsh noise, and tried to hold on to the fleeting snatches of the disturbing dreams she'd been having. Erotic dreams about Devlin. He was kissing her and stroking her breasts and calling her his woman. Then he mo

ved, settling his hard body between her thighs, and she opened to him, welcoming his deep thrusts with a joy that she'd never before felt—

The argument rose to a shout.

Unable to ignore the disturbance any longer, Jess lifted her head. She was in her own bedroom, and though the door was closed, the voices seemed to be coming from the kitchen. The room was dim.

It was barely light outside, she realized with dismay. It had to be early Monday morning. She had slept almost a full day.

That brought her scrambling out of bed in a hurry. Too much of a hurry, she discovered as blood rushed to her head. She stood there for a minute, swaying dizzily and seeing spots. Quite suddenly she remembered everything that had happened in the mine, and her cheeks flooded with scarlet. She hadn't been dreaming. Devlin's erotic ca­resses had been very, very real.

Almost frantically, she brushed her tumbled hair from her eyes. Was he here in the house now? If so, could she look him in the eyes after what had happened between them? How ever would she forget the wanton intimacies they had shared?

Getting a hold of herself, Jess straightened her shoul­ders. She'd never been a coward and wasn't about to act like one now. Besides, no one had ever died of embarrass­ment, as far as she knew. She would stick to her resolve and try to pretend that she'd never lain with Devlin in the dark, never had him moving inside her and bringing her to ecstasy, gifting her with the knowledge of what it meant to be fully a woman.

It was a tall order.

The argument was still going on. Hastily Jess pulled her wrapper over her nightgown and shoved her feet into her houseslippers. She had to go put an end to it before Riley and Clem came to blows.

Opening the bedroom door, she felt her pulse begin to speed in anticipation of seeing Devlin again.

As she made her way to the kitchen, she could hear Clem ranting. "Twenty-two years you and me been together, and this is what I got to show for it! A knife the back!"

"Quit carrying on so," her father returned. "It won't change anything between you and me. You'll still get your twenty percent of the profits, once we start seeing any."