“Trust you? I don’t even know you.”
He looked down at her belly. “At least I didn’t start off with a lie.”
Tripp left the room and slammed the door behind him.
Dawn’s first rays of light seeped over the horizon as Tripp dropped his satchel beside the front desk in the hotel lobby. A circular red velvet couch stood in the center of the room beneath an ornate chandelier. At the desk along the back wall, a man scrawled his name on the registration book while the clerk searched the cubby holes for a room key.
Tripp paused in the doorway of the hotel dining room, looking over the few customers already seated there. A couple of men wearing cravats and jackets, an old man with a dusty beard, a family with three wiggly children. An odd sense of disappointment crept over Tripp. No sign of Kaitlin Jeffers.
That proved it, he decided. She was a crook, just like Harvey Stutz. Probably hightailed it out of town during the night, fearing he’d go to the sheriff after all.
Tripp wound his way through the white-linencovered tables, ignoring the murmured conversations around him, and took a seat along the back wall. He hadn’t expected any different. Hadn’t he learned a long time ago how women act when things got tough?
Tripp tossed his black hat on the chair beside him and scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d hardly slept a wink last night. Worries, then dreams, kept him awake until nearly dawn. The worries he was used to. But the dreams—he hadn’t had dreams like that since he was a kid.
He shifted in. his chair as a familiar stirring claimed him, then looked around the room for a distraction from his own thoughts.
A woman stepped into the doorway of the dining room. Tripp drew in a sharp breath. God, she was the prettiest thing he’d seen in a month of Sundays, all done up in a green skirt with a matching print overskirt, and a blouse that hugged her breasts and outlined her trim waist. A green hat sat at a saucy angle among her dark curling hair.
Pressure behind his fly increased considerably as he watched her hips sway across the dining room. She took a seat at the corner table facing the wall, her back to the door.
A sweet scent wafted over him. Tripp reeled back in his chair. Good God, it was Kaitlin Jeffers.
What had happened to her? Brown eyes, so dark they reflected the light from the window, darted quickly around the room. Her oval face shone with full lips, soft delicate features, and porcelain skin. Why hadn’t he noticed those things last night?
Or maybe he had. Images that had frolicked in his dreams last night came back to him now with the same urgency.
Tripp turned his attention to two old men seating themselves at the table next to him, and listened to their conversation. He sure as hell needed something to occupy his attention. But his gaze drifted back to Kaitlin.
She looked all delicate and soft, tugging off her lace gloves, smoothing down her skirt, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. Womanly movements, feminine and artful, without trying to be. Tripp’s chest tightened.
She glanced at him, then looked away quickly.
“Miss Jeffers?” The words slipped from his lips before he realized it.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then looked away once more.
He knew damn good and well she’d seen him.
“Miss Jeffers?”
Kaitlin turned to him, her lips pursed, her brows furrowed. “Shh! Not so loud. I’m trying to be inconspicuous.”
How in the name of heaven did a woman as pretty as her think she could be inconspicuous in a little town like this?
“Look, Miss Jeffers—”
Her eyes bulged, silencing him, and she waved him over.
Slowly he walked to her little table in the corner, holding his hat in front of him.
Kaitlin huffed impatiently. “For heaven’s sake, sit down. You’ll have everybody in the room staring at me.”
Tripp lowered himself into the chair across from her. “Somebody you’re trying to avoid, Miss Jeffers?”
“As you so delicately pointed out last night, Mr. Callihan, it wouldn’t do me any good to be seen by Sheriff Newell in my…condition.”
“Or lack of it.”
“Exactly.”
Tripp pulled on his chin. “I figured you’d left town.”
“As if you should be so lucky.” Kaitlin smiled sweetly at him. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Mr. Callihan, until our business is settled.”
The serving girl stopped at their table and filled their cups with hot coffee.
“Give me steak and eggs with lots of potatoes and some biscuits.” Tripp gestured across the table. “Same for her.”
“Coming right up.” The serving girl smiled and left.
Tripp sipped his coffee. “So you’re still agreeable with the deal we made last night?”
“No, I’m not agreeable at all. I’d much prefer keeping everything for myself. But since half is the best I can do, I’ll settle for that.”
“I guess we might as well get down to business.” Tripp reached beneath his vest and pulled a small tablet from the pocket of his white shirt. He studied it for a moment. “I figure it’ll take us two hours to get to Porter this morning, about a half hour to find the place and look it over, then another hour to get it listed for sale.”
Kaitlin peered across the table. “You wrote that down?”
He flipped over to the next page. “Once the place is sold, we’ll meet, sign the papers, and divide up the profit. Any questions?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. It’s so complicated, I’m not sure I follow you.”
“We’ll take the deed to the bank and transfer it to both our names—just to be safe.”
She tilted her head. “You don’t trust me?”
He dropped his forearm on the table. “Look, Miss Jeffers, the sooner we get this over with, the better. I haven’t got time to fool around.”
“Nor have I, Mr. Callihan.” Kaitlin pushed her chin higher. “In fact, thanks to Harvey Stutz, I’ve had to change my plans considerably.”
He glared at her, then drank his coffee. He didn’t pursue her comment, didn’t really want to know what Harvey Stutz had done to her. Tripp couldn’t muster his compassion for another of the man’s victims; it just didn’t stretch that far.
The serving girl brought them plates of hot food.
Kaitlin wagged her finger at his pad of paper as she ate. “Do you have written down somewhere the kind of property we own?”
“A store.” He waved his fork toward her plate. “Eat your potatoes.”
She sat up straighter. “A store? Really?”
“Finish your meal. We’ve got to go.”
Tripp turned his attention to his plate, hoping to discourage any more conversation. The sooner he got this over with—and this woman out of his life—the better.
He paid for their meals, then followed Kaitlin’s bobbing bustle to the lobby. Tripp pulled his tablet from his shirt pocket, forcing himself to look at the notes he’d made.
“I checked the stage schedule last night. Nothing going to Porter until this afternoon. I’ll rent us a buggy down at the livery and pick you up out front in a few minutes.”
“I’ll meet you out back,” Kaitlin