Romancing The Runaway Bride. Karen Kirst

the brim of his cowboy hat, his eyes shone with excitement. He radiated a charged energy not present last evening. Why the change? Had he found land? Or perhaps a young lady had snagged his interest?

      Her belly knotted. Adam was a successful businessman like her father. He’d have high standards when it came to potential brides. A poised, proper lady who could plan social events and execute them without a hitch, a perfectly behaved lady who didn’t have a habit of saying the wrong thing.

      She tilted her head back and blocked the sunlight with her hand. “I enjoy being outside if it isn’t too stifling.”

      He glanced between her, the half-filled basket and the berries on the plants. “I’ll be right back.”

      He hurried to the veranda, where he shucked his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his gray-and-white-striped shirt. Back in the patch, he joined her in the dirt.

      “What are you doing?” she said, an unwanted thrill shivering through her at his nearness.

      He flashed a grin. “I’m hoping that by helping you, I’ll get the first taste of whatever treat you’re concocting.”

      “You make it sound like I’m a mad scientist.”

      She averted her attention to the plants, away from the evidence of molded shoulders and thick, muscular biceps beneath his cotton shirt. If he was indeed going to be around for a while, she had to view him as nothing more than a casual friend.

      “I’ve only just met you,” he said, humor lacing his tone. “But from what I’ve seen so far, there is a bit of madness to your methods.”

      That was a new one. She’d been called inept, thickheaded and socially incompetent. But never mad.

      He must’ve glimpsed her frown, because his fingers closed over her wrist. “Hey, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I happen to think your approach is refreshing.”

      “Truly?”

      His eyes softened. “Truly.”

      His fingers cradled her wrist with incredible gentleness. The sensation his touch wrought was both comforting and unsettling. With his handsome face so close to hers, she allowed herself to explore the jutting cheekbones and hard, square jaw, the smooth eyebrows, sensitive crescents beneath his liquid brown eyes and oh, that mouth, generous and well-shaped, able to drive rational thought from a girl’s head.

      Desperate for a distraction, Deborah snatched a strawberry from the basket and pressed it to his lips. “Have you ever tasted a strawberry straight from the garden? Nothing beats that burst of sun-heated flavor,” she rambled. “Try it.”

      Adam’s eyes went wide. Lips parting, he bit off a huge portion, leaving the green top suspended in her hold. He took his time chewing.

      “You’re right,” he croaked, disconcerted. “It’s delicious.”

      Face flaming, she snatched on to something, anything to cover her foolish reaction to his touch. “There’s a fund-raiser tomorrow to benefit Will Canfield’s congressional run, and I’ve been hired to provide the desserts. I’m making individual towers of pastry, which I’ll fill with strawberries in a mint and vinegar glaze—”

      “Vinegar?”

      “I haven’t tried it yet, but I’m hopeful it will add a little zing to the mixture. Sour mingled with sweet.”

      “Hmm.”

      “You should go. The other town founders, Noah Burgess and Daniel Gardner, will be there, as well as many other prominent citizens.”

      He slowly nodded. “Good idea. I have a proposition for you.” He gestured to the basket. “I’ll help you transport and set up the desserts if you’ll agree to introduce me around.”

      Her jaw sagged. “Me? I’m the last person you’d want for that job.”

      “Why would you think that?”

      “I’m not like Lucy. My sister has an uncanny knack for remembering every name associated with every face. She recalls key details of people’s lives. Once, during a dinner party my father was hosting, I put Mr. Rosenbaum next to Mr. Thatcher.”

      “And that was a problem because...”

      “Because Mr. Rosenbaum’s wife left him and later married Mr. Thatcher’s son.” She shuddered, not fond of that particular memory. “Lucy never would’ve done something so thoughtless.”

      Though his fingers made rapid work of the picking, he was careful not to bruise the fragile fruit. “Is Lucy able to create desserts that melt in your mouth?”

      “No, but what does that matter?”

      He raised one shoulder. “It may not matter in St. Louis, but it matters here.”

      Deborah fell silent, mulling his words as they worked. At least a quarter of an hour passed before he broke her concentration.

      “See that gray cloud? There’s a storm brewing. We’d better work fast if we don’t wish to get caught in the middle of a downpour.”

      When they’d gotten the ripe berries into the basket and reached the welcome shelter of the veranda, she thanked him for his help. She said nothing more because Hildie emerged from the house, her lips thinning at the sight of them together.

      “Adam, there you are! How inconsiderate of you to deprive us of your company the entire day.” She slipped her arm through his. “Say you’ll play that game of checkers with me.”

      His gaze sought out Deborah. “I wouldn’t mind a game or two, unless you need help washing those?”

      Deborah fought a swift rise of jealousy. She enjoyed his company and would’ve liked to have him to herself for a while longer, but she had to be practical. His time would be better spent with Hildie, not her.

      “Thank you, Adam. I’ll be able to better concentrate on my recipe if I’m alone.”

      He frowned a little. “If you’re sure.”

      “I’m sure.”

      The pair went inside, Hildie’s voice carrying through the house like a bird’s trilling song. Deborah sank onto a chair and contemplated the clouds marching across the Kansas sky, soon to mask the sun. Once she’d fulfilled her part of their deal, she’d have to distance herself from the charming cattleman. No more informal tours and no playing liaison. She had a disgruntled groom and irate father searching for her. Soon, she’d have to make a decision. Stay in Cowboy Creek and increase her risk of being found, or purchase a ticket to the next stop on the rail line.

       Chapter Four

      “You’re a genius.”

      Adam licked the glaze from his fingers and, unable to resist, plucked another portion of pastry from the overturned dessert and popped it in his mouth. He’d helped Deborah carry her fancy concoctions into Daniel and Leah Gardner’s grand parlor. Around them, the Gardners’ hired staff bustled about the high-ceilinged room arranging savory snacks and cold drinks. Guests had already begun to arrive.

      “I’m hardly that,” Deborah denied. “A genius is someone who invents machines or makes new discoveries.” Her anxious gaze swept the platters. “Did you topple that one on purpose?”

      “I find it hurtful that you’d accuse me of purposefully sabotaging your display.”

      Grooves marred her forehead. Her mouth went slack. The brewing apology in her brilliant golden eyes strengthened his opinion that she wasn’t accustomed to the back-and-forth between a man and woman.

      Reaching over, he quickly righted the shell-pink bloom above her ear. “Never mind me. I was only teasing.”

      “Oh.” She skimmed her