Jared's Runaway Woman. Judith Stacy

found an unfinished letter from Clark announcing the news that his wifewas expecting a baby.

      A baby. A Mason. Heir to the hard-earned family wealth and social position. Amelia Mason’s first and only grandchild. She wanted that baby, and Jared was only too happy to take up the chore himself.

      A hired investigator had tracked Clark’s wife through a series of towns and menial jobs until he’d located her here in Crystal Springs. She’d done a poor job of hiding her true identity, simply giving herself a new first name and dropping her married name.

      Just why she’d run off with Clark’s son, no one knew.

      All the family knew was that they wanted the boy in NewYork with the Masons, where he belonged. Jared had taken over the task himself and made the trip to Crystal Springs.

      All he had to do was find the woman. That wouldn’t be hard in a town this size. He silently chastised himself for sleeping all afternoon. Otherwise, he was sure he could have located her before nightfall.

      Jared pushed his empty plate away and Dixie caught his attention coming through the swinging door from the kitchen. But it wasn’t she who caused him to sit up in his chair. It was the woman he spotted behind her in the busy kitchen, elbow-deep in a tub of sudsy water.

      The woman he’d seen across the street from the stage depot this afternoon.

      Steam from the hot water made her face dewy. Tendrils of her dark hair curled around her cheeks. Her arms, exposed clear past her elbows, were smooth and a little pink as she washed dishes. Someone in the kitchen must have said something funny because she was laughing. Her face was lit up, glowing.

      Jared wished he could hear her. He wished he was in the kitchen with her to listen to the melody of her voice, see her smile up close…see all of her up close.

      Her bibbed apron outlined the swell of her breasts and the sash tied tight around her waist showed the flare of her hips. Sudden, strong desire claimed Jared, producing predictable results.

      Dixie stepped in front of him, cutting off his view of the kitchen. She held a slice of berry pie in front of him.

      “You look like a man who’d enjoy something hot and juicy,” she said, leaning toward him. “You interested?”

      His desire cooled a little. He took the saucer from her hand. “This will do fine,” he told her.

      She lingered just long enough to give him a knowing look, then disappeared into the kitchen again. Jared watched, catching another glimpse of the woman at the washtub as the door swung open, savoring the sight of her until it closed again.

      Jared finished his pie and coffee and left money on the table. He held back the urge to leave a generous tip, as he usually did, not wanting to call attention to himself. Outside on the boardwalk, he drew in a breath of the cool night air. It was dark now; lanterns burning in the windows down Main Street provided faint light.

      Things had picked up at the Wild Cat Saloon. Horses were tied to the hitching posts all along the street. Piano music flowed out along with the drone of voices. Jared considered going inside, having a beer, but decided to get the lay of the town instead.

      He walked past the many businesses that lined Main Street, all closed for the night. Above them, on second floors, windows glowed with lantern light. Jared imagined weary merchants and their families having supper around a kitchen table, talking over their day, planning for tomorrow.

      Across the street, the sheriff left the jailhouse. He was a big fellow with a pistol on each hip, carrying a sawed-off shotgun. A lot of firepower. Jared thought the lawman might need it. Every cowboy and miner he’d seen walk into the saloon tonight carried a gun.

      He dropped his hand to the pistol on his hip. Maybe he’d hire a horse from the livery tomorrow and ride out of town a ways, find a spot to target practice. He wasn’t a stranger to guns, exactly, though he certainly didn’t carry one with him every day back in New York. He’d hunted for deer and wild turkey, on occasion. But he’d never fired a pistol, and he sure as hell had never shot at a human being.

      At the edge of town Jared spotted a number of houses lining the street. Trees and picket fences, big porches with swings. Homes where families lived.

      The thought of returning to his hotel room seemed less appealing by the minute.

      By the time Jared ambled his way back down Main Street, loud, raucous laughter spilled out of the Wild Cat. He stopped across the street, but his gaze wandered down the block to the White Dove Café.

      The restaurant was dark now. Had the woman he’d seen washing dishes finished her chores and gone home already? An odd feeling of loss came over Jared as he realized that, if he’d hung around, he could have seen her again.

      At that instant a woman stepped out of the alley that ran next to the White Dove. Faint light caught her face.

      It was her.

      Jared’s breath caught and he took a step toward her just as gunshots rang out. From the corner of his eye he saw several men rush out of the saloon firing pistols.

      Jared ran for the woman.

      The gunfire registered in Kinsey’s mind just seconds before a man barreled at her from nowhere. He threw his arms around her and pulled her into the alley, pressing her back to the side of the restaurant. He held her tight against his chest, locked in his arms, shielding her, her nose buried against his throat.

      Her mind raced. Was she being attacked? Or rescued?

      She wasn’t going to linger to find out.

      Kinsey struggled against the man but she was held prisoner, sandwiched between the wall of the restaurant and the man’s hard chest and encircling arms. She couldn’t get away, could barely move. All she could manage was to lean her head away far enough to look up at him.

      Recognition stilled her. It was the man from the stage depot. The one who’d stolen her attention, made her heart beat fast. The one she’d thought so handsome. And now here he was, holding her.

      He gazed down at her, still not releasing her from his firm grasp.

      “There’s shooting down at the saloon,” he said softly. “I didn’t want you to get hit.”

      Kinsey looked into his eyes, lost for a moment in the effects of the soft light from the street playing about his face. She saw the hard jut of his jaw, and his clean, cotton scent washed over her. Her heart banged harder now, but not from fear. It was from—well, she didn’t know what it was from.

      Still holding her in his arms, the man touched his finger to her cheek, spreading a line of fire down her jaw.

      “Are you…are you all right?” he asked.

      No. No, she wasn’t all right. Her breasts were pressed against his hard chest, and his legs were brushing hers. He held her in a way that sent her heart racing.

      “Yes…yes, I’m fine,” she managed to say. “Are you all—”

      Jared kissed her. He couldn’t stop himself. As if some unknown force had claimed him, robbed him of his good sense and free will.

      His mouth covered hers, soft and moist. Slowly he worked his lips over hers, blending them together.

      But it wasn’t some unknown force making him do this, he realized, as a rational thought coasted through his mind. It was this woman. There was something about her….

      Kinsey hung in his embrace for a stunned second, then rose on her toes and leaned her head back a little. He groaned and deepened their kiss until—

      “What’s going on here?” a man demanded.

      Kinsey gasped at the familiar voice. It was the sheriff.

      The man whirled, keeping himself in front of Kinsey, shielding her. Humiliation burned in her. What in the world had she been doing?

      She stepped from behind the stranger, anxious to put some distance