Cimarron Rose. Nicole Foster

closeted in the saloon or her rooms, practicing song after song. Case appreciated her willingness to work, and he couldn’t fault the quality of her voice. But her lack of polish puzzled him.

      He didn’t like it. Something about Penelope Rose rang false, and it was more than just the wrong clothes and the overdone curls.

      “You can sing,” he added, almost to himself. “I’m still waiting to see you perform.”

      “Oh, please, don’t overwhelm me with your compliments,” a combination of nerves and annoyance caused Katlyn to snap. She resisted the urge to fidget with her dress or her hair once again. “If you’re done with your inspection, it’s nearly time for me to go downstairs and perform.”

      Case didn’t seem inclined to move. “Not quite yet. Are you satisfied with the piano player I hired?”

      To Case’s surprise, Katlyn burst out laughing, the unrestrained, joyous sound filling the room. Suddenly she seemed to come alive, not his singer in fancy flounces, but the woman behind the carefully painted facade.

      “Jack Dakota is no piano player,” Katlyn said finally, breathless with laughter. “He’s a gambler who happens to know how to play piano. If he hadn’t bet his last dollar on a queen-high flush, he’d be sitting at one of your tables trying to fleece your customers instead of behind your piano trying to entertain them. But yes, I like him. And considering your clientele right now, he’s perfect.”

      Her teasing words drew no answering smile from Case. “I’m expecting you to change the clientele.”

      “You make it sound so desperate, Mr. Durham,” Katlyn said, forcing a lightness she didn’t feel. “I’m not a miracle worker. All I can do is sing.”

      “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Case said slowly. He looked her up and down, slowly appraising. “If you’ll just be yourself.”

      They locked gazes. Katlyn felt the force of his aura of command in his steady, faintly sardonic focus on her. She wanted to shift away from it but held her ground, determined to not let him unnerve her any more than he already had.

      “You hired the St. Louis Songbird. And that’s who those people downstairs have come to see.”

      Something hard struck his expression and for a moment Katlyn had the wild notion he intended to expose her then and there. She didn’t consider how he knew, only that he did.

      Then the moment passed and Case stepped back with a wry smile, gesturing toward the stairs.

      “Well, then, my songbird,” he said. “Your audience awaits.”

      Katlyn swept past him, her flush of bravado carrying her down the long staircase and to the doors of the saloon.

      Then, as Case opened the doors for her, a tremor of fear spiraled through her heart, settling as a lump in her stomach. She refused, though, to let Case know how terrified she really was, so she put her chin up and walked into the room as if she had done it a thousand times before.

      Case touched a hand to her waist to escort her to the stage and felt her tremble. It surprised him, even as he admired her proud walk through the room, looking as if she expected nothing less than adoration from her audience.

      As she stepped up onto the stage, Jack Dakota turned on his piano stool and grinned at her, then blew her a kiss. Katlyn’s smile flashed out and Case felt a stab of irritation. He forced it back to introduce her, but it scratched at him as she barely seemed to acknowledge his announcement or the audience awaiting her.

      Her eyes instead kept flitting to Jack until Case stopped talking and a few seconds of awkward silence filled the room.

      “Well, is she gonna sing or ain’t she?” a harsh voice called from the back of the room.

      It jolted Katlyn and for the first time she looked fully at her audience.

      She doubted these were the kinds of people Case expected her to entice to the St. Martin. Most of the men looked like the gamblers and roughriders she’d seen around the hotel, and the few women couldn’t even charitably be called ladies. None of them looked particularly impressed.

      Case stepped down from the stage and left Katlyn standing there, staring back at the audience. She might have stood there until Case pulled her offstage if Jack hadn’t started playing a lively tune they’d practiced just that morning.

      Almost automatically, Katlyn responded and took up the words, her mind racing to remember not only the lyrics, but all the little mannerisms her mother had insisted she use. Jack started up another song as soon as she’d finished, giving her no time to gather her wits.

      After finishing the fourth tune, Katlyn sensed disaster looming.

      Only half the audience paid her any attention and a few of the men jeered and snickered, not bothering to hide their contempt.

      Jack tried to encourage her with a smile, but Katlyn stumbled through the next song, wishing all the while she could simply vanish into the woodwork.

      She glanced toward the back of the room as she finished and saw Case. His gaze fixed on her and she caught her breath. The blackness of his expression should have stopped her cold.

      Instead, inexplicably, it gave Katlyn a rush of courage. He expected her to fail. All at once she determined to prove him wrong.

      With a quick word to Jack, she moved back to center stage and forced herself to ignore the restless audience, the smoky, close air, and to focus on the sweet, soulful music. It wasn’t a song her mother would have chosen, but she decided at that moment, Penelope’s choices weren’t doing her much good.

      Katlyn forgot all her carefully memorized lessons and gave herself to the music, all the while keeping her gaze on Case.

      “‘I wander lonely, lost,

      searching for what’s true

      afraid I’ll never know it,

      and then I look, and there is you

      beckoning me home.

      But when I reach out,

      there’s only longing,

      and truth I cannot doubt,

      for I am left alone again

      with only the dream of my heart.”’

      Case found himself unable to look away.

      With a song she had transformed herself. Minutes ago, watching her awkwardly stumble through her repertoire, he’d been certain he’d made one of the biggest mistakes of his life in gambling his future on the St. Louis Songbird.

      Now, listening to her, he could almost believe Katlyn McLain was a miracle.

      He had never been fanciful, but the magic she worked made him imagine she had opened her heart and let the feelings there pour out through her voice. It softened her, lent her a grace not even green satin and rouge could overshadow.

      Katlyn scarcely noticed anyone but Case until she let go the last lingering notes of the ballad. Then she breathed deeply, breaking their locked gazes—and became suddenly aware of the almost awed silence.

      Everyone stared at her. Katlyn had the feeling she wouldn’t have shocked them more if she’d stripped to her petticoats and danced a jig.

      Her eyes went almost involuntarily back to Case.

      He looked back, his face expressionless.

      Before Katlyn could try to decipher what that meant, a loud, raucous applause started, interspersed with whistling and demands she sing again.

      Katlyn hesitated, then caught up in the warm flood of approval, complied with two more songs, not any of her mother’s, but songs she loved and felt comfortable sharing. By the time she finished, she felt almost giddy with the appreciative response from the audience.

      Moving off the stage she went over to Jack to thank him and he caught