Wildstar

Not Devlin's kind of man, she didn't. That had always been the trouble.

That afternoon—the first day of October—was one of the longest Jess had ever endured. Her spirits alternately rose and sank, hope bubbling in her veins like champagne one minute, uncertainty and fear dashing those bubbles the next.

Around two o'clock, she went home to change clothes. If Devlin had returned to Colorado for her, as Flo be­lieved, then it was likely he would come to call and Jess wanted to look her absolute best. She donned her Sunday gown—the coffee-striped grenadine with the pearl broach, then sat in the parlor and waited. The seconds ticked away like hours—pure torture on her nerves. Half the time she spent anxiously wondering if Flo could be right, and if so, whether she dared allow herself to hope for a marriage proposal. The other half of the time she spent scolding herself and preparing for the worst. He didn't love her. He didn't want a wife at all, certainly not one with her lack of qualifications. He had only come back to wrap up the loose ends of his business dealings . . . the Wildstar and whatever other projects he'd undertaken to make money— his self-professed occupation.

Whatever his intentions, though, Devlin didn't show up. By four o'clock, Jess was a mass of raw anxiety. Five minutes later, she came to a decision. Not only couldn't she stand another minute of suspense, but she couldn't af­ford to wait any longer. She had supper to fix for her min­ers. And in a few more hours it would be Saturday night. If the past was anything to judge by, Devlin would likely spend it gambling. Therefore, if she meant to have it out with him, she would have to do it now. She wasn't about to walk into another saloon in order to find him.

With trembling hands, Jess put on her hat and gloves, swept up the parasol that matched her outfit, and walked out the door before she could change her mind.

Although she didn't know where Devlin was staying, she thought it likely he would book a room at the Dia­mond Dust Hotel, so that was where she headed. Main Street wasn't as chaotic as usual, since the rowdiest eve­ning of the week hadn't yet begun, but the road was still packed with drays and ore wagons.

Jess was a block from the Diamond Dust when she saw him; despite the distance, she was able to pick Devlin out of the crowd. She couldn't mistake the elegant cut of his jacket, the lean-muscled shoulders, the dark silky hair be­neath a sleek bowler. Her breath caught in her throat. She thought she had prepared herself to meet him, but she couldn't seem to stop the way her heart clenched with joy at the mere sight of him, or prevent the army of butterflies from turning somersaults in her stomach. She had to force herself to slow down and take a deep breath just to keep from running to his side.

Devlin was driving a single-horse open buggy which was halted before the hotel. Seated on the front seat, he was engaged in conversation with a woman who stood on the boardwalk.

Jess was too busy drinking in the sight of Devlin to pay attention to anyone else at first. But when she was about five yards away, she recognized the ebony-haired woman beside him. Her steps faltered, her heart squeezing in sud­den, sharp pain. Lena. The faro dealer at the saloon. The same woman who had been in Devlin's bedroom several weeks ago. The owner of the feather boa.

Just then. Devlin bent and cupped his hand around Lena's nape, drawing her face up tenderly to brush his lips over hers.

Jess stood frozen, watching in disbelief, in horror.

Devlin drew back with a beautiful smile. "Wish me luck," he said, grinning.

Lena laughed throatily. "I don't think you'll need it, darlin'. You could make a stone melt."

Devlin might have heard the strangled little sound Jess made, for he looked up just then, his gray eyes connecting with her agonized gaze.

Jess took a single step backward in shock, not wanting to face what she had just seen. As Devlin's smile faded, she tamed blindly and ran, not caring that she dropped her parasol, not caring that she stumbled over her skirts and nearly fell, merely pushing desperately past a knot of star­tled men who had just come out of the drugstore.

Behind her Devlin cursed. "Jess!" he shouted. "Jessica, wait!"

"Oh, Lord," Lena breathed.

"Dammit to hell." Devlin muttered in reply. His fingers clenched around the reins, but otherwise he didn't move. The savage pain of seeing Jess ran from him held him im­mobile. Once again she'd believed the worst of him, con­victing him without giving him a chance to defend himself.

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; "Aren't you gonna go after her?" Lena asked.

"No."

"No?" The faro dealer looked at him in puzzlement.

"I'm not running after her. She's jumped to the wrong conclusion about me once too often."

"You want me to tell her it was just a good-bye kiss? That you were on your way to see her and to ask her to marry you?"

"No." Devlin's jaw clenched grimly as he tried to re­press the cold fear welling up inside him. Jess couldn't love him very much if she had so little faith in him. Per­haps he'd overestimated his appeal with her. Perhaps he'd been arrogant to think he could make her love him. He couldn't force her love, her trust. But he at least deserved the benefit of the doubt from the woman who was to be his wife. "If she can't learn to trust me on her own, then it won't do any good to push it." He swore again. "Hell, I'm more innocent now than I was about any of her other accusations."

"A lady like her might not see it that way. She's not gonna forgive you for kissing me, even if it was innocent."

He thought of the diamond engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket and shook his head. He was damned if he would run after Jess and beg her forgiveness. She was going to have to come to him this time.

Devlin tore his gaze away from Jess's retreating figure and focused it on the sultry Lena. He smiled again, not pleasantly. "Looks like I won't be getting married any time soon. What about that faro game you suggested?"

Lena eyed him skeptically. "If you're sure, sugar. But I think maybe you're gonna need some of that luck after all."

Jess wept when she got home. She flung herself on her bed and indulged in a storm of tears that released weeks of pent-up grief and uncertainty.