“The Satin Slipper’s brand of love?”
“No,” Tessa said. “My brand.” She met David’s penetrating gaze without flinching.
David couldn’t think of a retort. Suddenly he couldn’t think of anything except Tessa Roarke and her brand of love. He wondered how it would feel. Standing there, staring down at her, he wanted to know.
Sheriff Bradley cleared his throat. “Why don’t I go get the boy?” He turned and started toward the hall door.
“Fine,” David agreed.
“No,” Tessa objected.
Sheriff Bradley paused. “She’s your client,” he said to David. “You make the decision.”
“Go get him.”
“No. I don’t want him to see me in here,” Tessa insisted, raising her voice. “I won’t allow it. Take him home. At once.”
David didn’t much care for her tone. She could be as prickly as a porcupine. Her mood changes, as varying as the Wyoming weather. He liked her softness when she spoke of Coalie. He hated her imperious manner, though. She sounded like the queen of England ordering him around. He’d tried to be patient and understanding, but he’d be hanged if he’d continue to put up with her superior tone. She was much too arrogant for a saloon girl accused of murder. “Where do you suggest I take him, contessa?” He flung the noble title at her. “He doesn’t seem to have a home at the moment.”
That stopped her. “But I paid my rent.”
“Really? Well, they forgot that apparently when you were arrested this morning,” David reminded her, “for the murder of the man you’d ‘gone with’ last evening, Arnie Mason.” He felt the knot tighten in his gut as he spoke the words, felt it tighten as he waited for her to protest, to call him a liar, to swear she hadn’t “gone with Arnie Mason.” And David felt the bile rise in his throat when she didn’t declare her innocence. “You don’t have a room at the Satin Slipper, and that boy no longer has a home, because you no longer have a job.” David turned back to the sheriff, who stood waiting patiently. “Sheriff Bradley, please go get the boy. He wants to see her.”
“The rent is paid through the month,” Tessa told him. “Myra Brennan might not want me back, but she can’t throw Coalie out.”
“She already did,” David told her. “She gave your room to someone else and all your belongings along with it.”
“What?” Tessa thought of her mother’s silver and black onyx rosary lying on the washstand and the envelope of precious photographs hidden away in her room. “She can have the room, but not my things. She’s not going to get away with that.”
“Come with me.” David used her anger to his advantage. “And we’ll see that she doesn’t.”
Tessa stared down at the wool blanket draped over David’s coat. The blanket ended at mid-calf, exposing a fair amount of bare flesh and a pair of trim ankles. “It’s bad enough that everyone in this town thinks I’m a murderess.” She brushed her hand over the rough wool blanket. “Do you intend to prove to them that I’m a loose woman as well?”
“You work in a saloon,” David pointed out. “What are the townspeople supposed to think?”
“That maybe I like to eat,” Tessa retorted.
David hid the smile that threatened to tip the corners of his mouth upward. Though she resembled a porcelain doll, she was quick and tough, tougher than most of the lawyers who were his opponents in the courtroom. He turned to the sheriff one last time. “Go get the boy.”
The sheriff nodded, then ambled up the hall to his office.
“I don’t want Coalie to see me like this,” Tessa told him.
“He has a present for you,” David said.
She met his gaze, her blue eyes showing surprise. “A present? For me?”
“Yes.” David smiled. Her childlike pleasure in a surprise made her forget her hostility. David had a sudden urge to touch her, to caress the tiny freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose.
“What is it?”
“I’ll let Coalie show you. They’re his gifts.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean there’s more than one present?” She could barely contain her curiosity.
“Lots more,” David told her as he stepped away from the bars. “Here’s Coalie. I’ll leave you two alone for a while.” He smiled at her. “And, Tessa…”
“Yes?”