think Ginny suits you.”
“So did my mother.” She heard the hard edge in her voice, the one that always showed up when she spoke of Lilah Rose. “She called me that. It was the name she used when she wanted me to do something for her. ‘Ginny, run to the saloon and get me a bottle, will you, baby? That’s a good girl. I love my gin and my Ginny.’” Regina pulled herself up short. Theo looked at her intently, his slashing brows knitted. Warm color flooded her cheeks. “M-more coffee?”
“Your mother drinks?”
“She’s dead.” She looked around, anxious for an escape. “The morning is wearing thin and I have so much work to do.”
“Work, work, work.” He made a
tsking
sound.“A pretty woman like you should have more to fill her days than endless chores.”
She eyed him carefully, noting the self-assured smile and the teasing glint in his blue eyes. “You’re quite the womanizer, aren’t you, Theodore Dane? I’ve heard that you even wink at married women on public streets.”
“Me?” He spread a hand against his chest. “Must be this twitch I’ve got in my eye. Lots of women think I’m winking when I’m just twitching. Gets me in a pot of trouble every now and then.”
“Yes, I imagine it does.” She leaned to peek into his cup. He had one more swallow of coffee left. “Better drink up before that last sip is stone-cold.”
“You’ll warm me up if I get cold, won’t you?”
Shaken by his rough-velvet voice and half-lidded gaze, she pushed to her feet, reached for her cup, missed, and set it rolling. Theo stopped it before it could fall off the table edge.
“Nervous?” he asked, almost purring.
“You’re taking liberties with me, and I don’t care for it,” she said, her voice at a higher pitch than usual. Why did he make her so nervous? she wondered. Why couldn’t she laugh at his attempts to seduce her? Why did she tremble when he looked at her with that blatant interest making his eyes sparkle like sun-struck water? “Perhaps you see me as deprived, living and working here among women. Well, I’m not. I choose to be here, and I don’t miss the company of men.”
“Speaking for men in general, we sure do miss your company, Mistress Rosy.”
She scowled at him. “I must ask you to find amusement elsewhere, Mr. Dane.”
He rose slowly to his feet. “You just don’t like me, do you?” He mirrored her frown. “Now don’t go denying it, Mistress Rosy. I
know
you don’t likeme. I’m good at reading people, you see. Even when they try to hide their feelings … even when they try to act like they’re crazy about me … I can usually tell if they’re faking it. You’re faking it, Mistress Rosy.” He sighed wearily, propped his hands on his hips and shook his head with exaggerated stress. “You plain don’t like me. I wish I could figure out why that is. You wouldn’t be kind enough to enlighten me, would you?”
“I would.” She retreated a step to gain better balance. “I’m not able to stick my feelings in compartments as you do. My heart has no doors I can close. I feel compassion for people and I ache when someone is wounded.”
“Who’s wounded?”
“Look around you, Mr. Dane. Those living here and next door are victims of men like Tom Wilson. You help men to wriggle out of their responsibilities. I find it distasteful that you and Mr. Wilson and all the others like you can cling to whoever or whatever waves money in your face.”
“Carry Nation smashed up Tom’s saloon. You keep forgetting that little item.”
“She did it for every man, woman, and child ruined by the whiskey Mr. Wilson sells. He lets his customers get stinking drunk. He takes all their money when he knows good and well the money is needed for staples and rent. He allows men to get good and drunk and then go home to their poor families and take out their problems on them—with their fists and their ugly words.”
“Wilson does all that?” Theo scratched the top of his
“So did my mother.” She heard the hard edge in her voice, the one that always showed up when she spoke of Lilah Rose. “She called me that. It was the name she used when she wanted me to do something for her. ‘Ginny, run to the saloon and get me a bottle, will you, baby? That’s a good girl. I love my gin and my Ginny.’” Regina pulled herself up short. Theo looked at her intently, his slashing brows knitted. Warm color flooded her cheeks. “M-more coffee?”
“Your mother drinks?”
“She’s dead.” She looked around, anxious for an escape. “The morning is wearing thin and I have so much work to do.”
“Work, work, work.” He made a
tsking
sound.“A pretty woman like you should have more to fill her days than endless chores.”
She eyed him carefully, noting the self-assured smile and the teasing glint in his blue eyes. “You’re quite the womanizer, aren’t you, Theodore Dane? I’ve heard that you even wink at married women on public streets.”
“Me?” He spread a hand against his chest. “Must be this twitch I’ve got in my eye. Lots of women think I’m winking when I’m just twitching. Gets me in a pot of trouble every now and then.”
“Yes, I imagine it does.” She leaned to peek into his cup. He had one more swallow of coffee left. “Better drink up before that last sip is stone-cold.”
“You’ll warm me up if I get cold, won’t you?”
Shaken by his rough-velvet voice and half-lidded gaze, she pushed to her feet, reached for her cup, missed, and set it rolling. Theo stopped it before it could fall off the table edge.
“Nervous?” he asked, almost purring.
“You’re taking liberties with me, and I don’t care for it,” she said, her voice at a higher pitch than usual. Why did he make her so nervous? she wondered. Why couldn’t she laugh at his attempts to seduce her? Why did she tremble when he looked at her with that blatant interest making his eyes sparkle like sun-struck water? “Perhaps you see me as deprived, living and working here among women. Well, I’m not. I choose to be here, and I don’t miss the company of men.”
“Speaking for men in general, we sure do miss your company, Mistress Rosy.”
She scowled at him. “I must ask you to find amusement elsewhere, Mr. Dane.”
He rose slowly to his feet. “You just don’t like me, do you?” He mirrored her frown. “Now don’t go denying it, Mistress Rosy. I
know
you don’t likeme. I’m good at reading people, you see. Even when they try to hide their feelings … even when they try to act like they’re crazy about me … I can usually tell if they’re faking it. You’re faking it, Mistress Rosy.” He sighed wearily, propped his hands on his hips and shook his head with exaggerated stress. “You plain don’t like me. I wish I could figure out why that is. You wouldn’t be kind enough to enlighten me, would you?”
“I would.” She retreated a step to gain better balance. “I’m not able to stick my feelings in compartments as you do. My heart has no doors I can close. I feel compassion for people and I ache when someone is wounded.”
“Who’s wounded?”
“Look around you, Mr. Dane. Those living here and next door are victims of men like Tom Wilson. You help men to wriggle out of their responsibilities. I find it distasteful that you and Mr. Wilson and all the others like you can cling to whoever or whatever waves money in your face.”
“Carry Nation smashed up Tom’s saloon. You keep forgetting that little item.”
“She did it for every man, woman, and child ruined by the whiskey Mr. Wilson sells. He lets his customers get stinking drunk. He takes all their money when he knows good and well the money is needed for staples and rent. He allows men to get good and drunk and then go home to their poor families and take out their problems on them—with their fists and their ugly words.”
“Wilson does all that?” Theo scratched the top of his
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