"I regret that will not be possible," she returned in her best boarding school manner. "My father is not well enough to receive visitors."

"Oh? I had heard he was seen yesterday riding up to the mines."

Jess pressed her lips together. News traveled fast in a small mining town, but it was more likely Burke had spies in his employ who were instructed to report on her father's movements. "If you know that, then you know my father suffered a relapse yesterday."

His tawny eyebrows rose in concern. "Not a serious one, I hope."

His unctuous tone made Jess grit her teeth. "No. He could probably hold a gun if he needed to."

"There have been no more accidents to your mine?"

"I imagine you would know that better than I."

The maganate's blue eyes grew a shade cooler. "You wrong me."

"Do I?"

He smiled suddenly. "I don't wish there to be hard feel­ings between us, Miss Sommers. I would merely like your father to know my offer to purchase the Wildstar mine is still open. Please tell him for me, will you?" He inclined his head politely and motioned his driver to proceed. "Give my respects to Mr. Sommers."

Jess stared impotently after the retreating carriage, her beautiful morning spoiled.

Resentful, depressed, she returned home to find Riley awake and fretful, feeling more pain from his wound than he had in the entire past week. She fed him a bowl of soup, gave him another spoonful of morphine, and stayed with him till he fell asleep. Then she proceeded to fix Sun­day dinner—roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables, bis­cuits, and raspberry pie.

Normally she would have changed out of her Sunday clothes, but after her run-in with Burke, she defiantly suc­cumbed to feminine vanity and left on most of her finery so Devlin could see it when he woke up. Shedding only the basque jacket and hat, Jess covered the striped skirt and lawn blouse with a bibbed, white gingham tea apron so they wouldn't get soiled.

She felt oddly nervous when she went in to wake him for dinner—or breakfast, as it was in his case. "Devlin?" she murmured, setting a cup of coffee on the bureau for him. When he didn't answer, she moved to the side of the bed where he lay on his side with his back to her. "Dev­lin? It's time to get up."

Still he didn't stir. Jess leaned over him, gently touching his bare shoulder. "Devlin . . ."

Before she could finish the word, he reached up and trapped her hand in a light grip, pulling it down against his naked chest. The feel of hard, hair-dusted masculine flesh still warm from sleep made her pulse leap. "Devlin!" Jess gave a jerk and dragged her hand free.

As he rolled over to face her, she backed away, clasping her fingers, which were still tingling from his touch. She suspected that he'd been lying in wait for her, and the self-satisfied smile on his lips convinced her of it.

"Dinner," Jess said tersely, "will be ready in less than an hour. Your bathwater's heated so you can bathe and shave first."

Devlin yawned and stretched languidly, looking as sleek and relaxed as a well-fed cat. His hair was tousled in a en­dearingly boyish way that did anything but make her think of boys.

"I'd rather you join me here first," he said with a husky undertone of laughter that raked across her aroused nerves.

"Only a city slicker would laze around all day," Jess snapped.

"What's turned you into such a crosspatch?"

She could have answered that with one word. Him. His unkempt masculine beauty had affected her far more than she liked. But then having a stunningly handsome, half-naked man in her bed would make any woman feel urges that she shouldn't feel.

The gray eyes surveyed her intimately, traveling slowly upward. He was staring at her bold as brass, and yet there was something warm and exciting and flattering in the way he was looking at her.

"You've done something different with your hair," he commented, his tone lazy and deeply sensual. "I like it." Jess was inordinately pleased that he had noticed, but her pleasure tempered at his next comment. "I'd like it better loose and wild around your shoulders. Come to think of it, it would look even better spread across this pillow—"

"Mr. Devlinl"

"Yes, ma'am?" His innocent smile was not the least convincing.

"If you don't want your bathwater dumped on your head, you will please keep your lascivious comments to yourself!"

/>

"I'm surprised you even know what the word lascivious means, darlin'."

Tags: Nicole Jordan Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net