Make-Believe Beau. Keli Gwyn

intact. Wouldn’t she?

      * * *

      Where had he put that pin? Without it his cravat wouldn’t stay put.

      Flynt rummaged through his bureau drawer, not stopping until he found the elusive pin hiding beneath the stack of freshly laundered handkerchiefs. He opened the jewel box. As was the case every time he did so, memories of his mother rushed in. She might have given him up to be raised by another, but she hadn’t forgotten him. The only money she’d ever sent him had shown up when he turned eighteen. Three years later the pin arrived.

      The first had been accompanied by a letter from his mother’s lawyer telling him that she wanted him to use the funds for college. The latter had included a note in her own handwriting, the only one he’d ever received.

      He unfolded the slip of paper and read the few words.

      My Dearest Son,

      Widow Hagerty tells me you’ve earned an engineering degree and that you dream of designing irrigation systems. I couldn’t be more proud of the man you’ve become.

      I had my jeweler create this pin especially for you. Whenever you look at it, I hope you’ll remember me fondly.

      All my love,

      Your Mother

      Every time he saw the bold swirls of her handwriting, his chest tightened, just as it had the day Ma Hagerty handed him the unexpected gift. While he wanted to believe what his mother had written, he couldn’t. If a mother truly loved her child, she didn’t give him up.

      He secured his cravat with the pin. Stepping in front of the looking glass, he studied his reflection. The man who stared back at him was as well outfitted as any other gentleman. He’d worked hard to gain respectability. No one looking at him would believe him to be anything other than what he seemed—a successful engineer. He’d left his past behind. And now he was about to rub elbows with Placerville’s elite.

      A surge of excitement coursed through him. In half an hour he’d be walking into the theater with an incredibly beautiful woman by his side. Although he wasn’t Jessie’s beau, others would think she welcomed his company. They might even imagine she had feelings for him. Not that she did. They were colleagues, nothing more.

      But he did enjoy her company. The evening at the ice-cream parlor had been more pleasant than he’d hoped. He recalled the way she’d looked at him when Kurt had headed toward their table and chuckled. Jessie had given him the most coquettish smile ever sent his way. He’d seen plenty of them aimed at the men who’d frequented the saloon where the saucy women his mother employed had entertained when he was a boy, but he’d never expected to see an alluring gaze directed at him. It was a good thing he hadn’t taken a bite just then, or he would have choked on it.

      When he’d asked Jessie to feign interest in him, she’d responded with a startling display of boldness. She was a lady to the core—bright, beautiful and cultivated—unlike the saloon girls who’d pinched his cheeks and fawned over him as a boy. Due to her inexperience, Jessie had gotten carried away. Her flaming cheeks afterward proved she realized her mistake.

      He would have to make his requests clear in the future and gently educate her in courtship rituals. Not that he had much experience. His education and his work had been his focus.

      His cologne caught his eye. He uncorked the bottle and splashed on some of the citrusy scent. Jessie deserved to have him looking and smelling his best.

      He reached for his cutaway jacket, shrugged it on and set out. His long strides carried him from the Cary House hotel up Coloma Street to Jessie’s boardinghouse in no time.

      Pausing at the wrought iron gate, he glanced at the second-story bay window Jessie had told him was hers, hoping for a glimpse of her, but he could see no one from that angle.

      He climbed the steps and rapped on the front door of the stately green house. The motherly owner yanked it open, saw him and smiled broadly.

      “Welcome, Mr. Kavanaugh. My, aren’t you looking dapper this evening?”

      “Thank you. I’m here for Jessie.”

      “Oh, yes. She’s expecting you. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

      Mrs. Monroe made it up the stairs with remarkable speed, turned to the right and knocked on a door just out of view. A muffled conversation followed. Flynt heard his name but little else.

      The older woman returned, patted his arm and smiled. “She’ll be down shortly. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time at the concert. Do you know what pieces are being performed?”

      He did his best to carry on a conversation with the kindly woman, but keeping his mind on her comments and questions grew more difficult by the moment. After what seemed like an eternity, a door clicked shut above. He focused on the upper landing.

      Jessie appeared, and his jaw dropped. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to do anything but gaze at the vision of loveliness above him. Her glorious auburn hair was piled on her head in a fancy style. Loose wisps framed her face, drawing his attention to her tentative smile. Her emerald gown, although modest, showcased her womanly figure beautifully.

      Mrs. Monroe patted his arm. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

      Her comment registered at some level, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Jessie. His gaze locked with hers. The twin pools of glorious green drew him in, deeper and deeper.

      All else faded from view. He couldn’t feel the floor beneath him, although it had to be there because it shifted. Clutching the newel cap to steady himself, he drank his fill.

      Taking her silk skirts in one hand, she lifted them a couple of inches and began her descent, one slow, careful step at a time. Her captivating eyes never left his. She paused at the landing halfway down and graced him with a smile unlike any she’d ever sent his way. Hesitant but sweeter than honey.

      He forced his lips to lift in an answering smile he hoped conveyed encouragement and appreciation.

      She continued her journey down the stairs, but she no longer looked into his face. Instead she focused on a spot somewhere below his chin.

      The familiar scent of lilacs greeted him as she drew near. He released his grip on the handrail, but that left him with two hands hanging limply at his sides. At a loss as to what to do with them, he clasped them behind his back. It was either that or risk disaster by following his wayward thoughts, which suggested he reach out and brush her rosy cheek with the back of his hand.

      Standing on the bottom step, Jessie drew in a deep breath, causing her chest to rise and fall beneath the row of jet-black buttons. She lifted her head. Uncertainty shone in her expressive eyes. He had to say something, but with his throat as dry as Hangtown Creek at the end of the summer, getting words out wasn’t easy.

      “You look...” He searched for a word that would adequately describe her, but his mind went blank.

      She tilted her head. “Nice?”

      “Yes. Nice.”

      The instant the lackluster compliment slipped out, he mentally kicked himself. “Nice” was a vast understatement. “Pretty” would have been better. But even that didn’t come close to describing her. He forced his sluggish brain to work.

      Beautiful? She was, but he couldn’t say that. Besides, many women could be called beautiful. Jessie was more. She was...gorgeous. Yes! That was it.

      “Not just nice. You look go—” He stopped himself just in time. Jessie was his colleague, not his sweetheart. He had no right to shower her with compliments, no matter how much he wanted to do so. “You look good. Very good.”

      Her features relaxed. “You look very good yourself.” Her gaze traveled from the toes of his recently polished boots in a steady climb until it rested on his chest. “That’s a beautiful pin. It’s rare to see a pear-shaped sapphire.”

      He forced