Four-Karat Fiancee

Only the shipping cartons stacked everywhere marred the scene. If they weren’t picked up tomorrow, she would make another call and be even more blunt if she had to about expecting them to be taken back. She hadn’t spent several years after college working for a major bookselling chain in Seattle for nothing. She could get things accomplished.

In fact, she’d risen to the position of assistant manager before concluding that big-city life didn’t really suit her. What she wanted was a bookstore of her own in the small town she thought of as home. So she’d come back with her hard-earned savings in hand, and now, at the age of thirty, she had more than enough experience behind her to get things done.

In the business world, at any rate. There was still, Amanda knew, the fate of four young children to consider. And there, she was far from sure how much she could do.

She only knew she had to try.

BY THE TIME Amanda put the gracefully scribed Closed sign in the front window at six o’clock, she wanted nothing more than to go home and soak in a hot tub. Even beyond that, she knew what she needed was the good night’s sleep she’d failed to get for the past several evenings. Maybe, she mused as she tallied the day’s receipts, taking something with her to read besides the intricate mystery she was currently in the middle of would help. And with that thought, her gaze landed on the copy of Midnight Passions still resting at one side of the counter.

Why not? she asked herself. It would indeed be something different, and that could be just what she needed to relax a bit.

What Amanda didn’t want, and her nerves certainly didn’t need, was to catch sight of one of the Heartbreaker Saloon’s patrons weaving his way toward her as she left the Ex-Libris at just after six-thirty. She recognized Guy Feldon. He was one of the people who had followed hard on the heels of Jester’s newfound wealth.

“Millionaire, Montana,” was how the press had dubbed a place little more than a pinpoint on the state map, and the town had been flooded with reporters. Thankfully, the relentless press coverage seemed to have died down, although some residents’ private business was still being leaked to the media. More than a few of Jester’s citizens suspected that one of their own was acting as informer, but no one really knew who was responsible.

The burly man currently approaching with unsteady steps wasn’t with the media, however. No, Guy Feldon appeared to be basically an opportunist who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of another’s good fortune. He usually played the part of the lazy drifter, but more than one person had remarked on spying a cunning glint in his eye.

Now his gaze was trained on Amanda, and she by no means liked what she saw in it. When it raked her from head to toe, even the fact that most of her body was covered by the classic wide folds of her beige raincoat brought little comfort.

“Well, hi, sugar pie,” Feldon drawled, his speech slurred.

Sugar pie? Amanda’s teeth clenched in response. It didn’t take a genius, she thought, to see that she was headed for trouble. Or, rather, trouble was headed for her.

“Cat got your tongue?” Feldon came to a wavering halt right in front of her. “Have to say I envy it if it does.” His mouth curved in a leer.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of my way,” Amanda replied with brisk directness. Living in a big city had taught her the value of maintaining a firm front in an environment where crime was an unfortunate fact of life. One of the benefits of returning to Jester was that she never so much as felt uneasy walking alone on an empty street—never until now.

“Too bad I’m of no mind to step aside.” Feldon leaned in. Even in the dimness of a twilight sky, his face looked nearly as flushed as the red checks on his flannel jacket. “I might be persuaded, though, if you gave me a sample of what I’m missing.”

You should live so long, Amanda reflected with disgust. She took a better grip on the book she held, hitched her sleek shoulder bag higher, and prepared to move on. “If you don’t let me pass, I’m turning around and heading to the sheriff’s office.”

Feldon’s hand snaked out to grab her arm. “I don’t think so,” he muttered, his expression suddenly as dark as his shaggy black hair.

Amanda knew it was too late to run. But she could shout for help, she decided even as another large hand came up to cup her chin hard enough to keep her lips clamped shut.

“Maybe I’ll just take, since you don’t feel like giving,” Feldon said, leaning closer, then closer still. Amanda did her best to struggle, but he was almost twice her size. Her pulse began to pound as all-out panic threatened.

And then he was yanked right away from her by someone who stared daggers at Guy Feldon from under the wide brim of a tan Stetson before sending the burly man lurching into the street with a well-placed fist to the jaw.

For once, Amanda was actually glad to see Dev Devlin.

A few people poked their heads outside at that point, as if just aware that something was up on Main Street. Amanda took note of it with a quick glance around her even as most of her attention remained fixed on the two men steps away.

“Come on, Feldon,” Dev said in a near growl, his fists still clenched. “Let’s see you take on someone more your size.”

“Damned if I won’t,” the other man shot back.

Amanda watched what happened next, thinking that it was like a scene straight out of an action movie. Fists flew with abandon and several grunts were exchanged when they found their target, but it wasn’t long before a clear victor emerged as Dev sent his opponent flying with a particularly solid punch.

“More?” he asked after taking a few rapid strides forward to stand over the burly man sprawled in the street.

Feldon looked up. “I’m done.”

“Well then, so are we,” Dev said, “unless the lady wants you dragged over to the sheriff’s place so she can press charges.”

Mindful that several people had gathered for a closer look at the fight, Amanda shook her head. She still wanted nothing more than to go home.

Dev brushed his palms on his snug-fitting Levi’s and reached up to tap his hat down lower on his forehead. “Looks like you’re getting off easy,” he told his opponent as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket. “I suggest you haul yourself up—and think about leaving town while you’re at it, because I’ve just decided that this place isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

Feldon mumbled what might have been a curse, then got to his feet and beat a swift retreat.

After watching him disappear around a corner, Dev looked at Amanda. “Are you all right?”

Vaguely aware of other voices echoing that question, she dipped her head in a nod and kept her gaze on the man walking toward her. The truth was that after everything that had happened that day and all she had on her mind, she found herself close to tears. Nevertheless, her pride had her determined not to shed any before an audience.

“Thank you,” she said, gazing into the deep blue eyes of the Heartbreaker Saloon’s owner. For coming to my rescue, she could have added, and didn’t. It was startling to realize that the person she’d been at odds with for so long had done exactly that.

He studied her, taking in what she hoped was at least a somewhat calm expression. She knew he wasn’t fooled by the way he frowned. “If you’re on your way home, I’ll walk you there.”

“That’s not necessary,” she assured him.

“Whether it is or not, I’m doing it,” he countered.

Too tired to mount a real protest, Amanda surrendered with another nod. The irony of it wasn’t lost on her. Who would have ever thought she’d give in to this man on anything? she asked herself. And did this mark a change in their relationship?

Something told her that just might be the case as she issued an absent goodbye to the people gathered around and fell into step beside him.

Dev’s blood gradually cooled as he concentrated on shortening his stride to match his companion’s. Their footsteps tapped out a slow rhythm as they walked down a darkening street. There was no point in wondering whether he should have kicked Feldon’s butt for good measure, he told himself. Hopefully, the jerk would take the advice he’d been given and leave town. If not, Dev vowed to personally see to it.

He might be a successful businessman—he might be a millionaire—but he could still get a dirty job done if necessary. This evening’s brawl had proved that. He hadn’t lost the knack of putting his fists to good use. Except these days he knew when to back off. Seeing Amanda Bradley safely home had been more important than continuing to pound on the man who’d been forcing himself on her.

A man who’d had more to drink than he should have at the Heartbreaker, Dev’s conscience reminded him.

He frowned in response, thinking that if someone was known to be driving, he and the two bartenders working for him didn’t hesitate to shut them off or take car keys away. But how the hell was anyone supposed to know that a man—a customer—would practically assault a woman steps from the saloon’s doorstep?

Sure, the Heartbreaker’s male regulars could get rowdy at times. But assault a female? No way. Most of them would have liked nothing better than to pound on Feldon themselves, given the chance. So instead of letting guilt nag at him over what had happened, Dev figured everyone would be better off if he just tried to do his damnedest to make sure it never happened again.

“Nice night for a stroll down Mega Bucks Boulevard,” he said in a bid to make conversation.

Amanda glanced up at him and spoke for the first time since they’d started their walk. “Do you find our mayor’s habit of renaming streets since the lottery win to be as bizarre as I do?”

The question, while straightforward enough, was issued in a softer tone than Dev was accustomed to hearing from the Ex-Libris’s owner—who, he remembered, had informed him somewhat haughtily during one of their go-rounds that the store’s name came from a Latin phrase that loosely translated meant “from the books.” And it was just as well she had told him, because he knew he’d have never figured that one out.

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Can’t see how renaming a few streets hurts anything.”

Jester’s mayor, Bobby Larson, had also been touting the idea of building a hotel on land now dedicated to the community park, and Dev was less sure how he felt about that plan. The one thing he was dead certain of was a definite desire to avoid town politics. He had plenty of other things to occupy him.

Such as his house, he thought as they crossed Maple Street, where the new Devlin residence would soon reach the move-in stage. He’d been headed there for the daily check he made on it when he’d found himself trading blows with Guy Feldon instead.

“Were you hurt in that fight?” Amanda asked, as though she’d caught the direction his thoughts had taken.

“No.” He had no intention of whining about a few aches and pains. “What have you got there?” he asked, changing the subject as he glanced down at the book she held tightly to her. All he could make out were the edges of a dusky rose cover.

“Oh.” She hesitated a moment. “It’s, ah, a novel, just something I thought I’d try.”

“Something different than you usually read?”

Again she paused. “Well, let’s just say it’s a change from what I’ve been reading lately.”

Her reply was just vague enough to have him wishing he could get a better look at that book. Maybe it would tell him more about the woman he’d come to think of as a thorn in his side. He still believed the best thing he could do was buy her part of the building they shared. He could even knock down the wall separating their properties, make a few changes to spruce up the bar area and expand his business—which was thriving, if he did say so himself.

Her business was another story, he more than suspected. If it weren’t for the pastries usually on hand in a sitting area at the back of the bookstore, along with tea served in fancy cups to wash down a helping of the local news of the day, how many customers would regularly visit the place? Probably not enough to turn a healthy profit. If only he could convince her to sell out to him.

They arrived at Amanda’s one-story white frame house in a matter of minutes. Dev took note of the fact that although it was a long way from new, it appeared well cared for. It was a far cry from the rundown house he’d grown up in on the outskirts of town, that was for sure. This place looked…homey, he guessed was the word, with its front yard enclosed by a short picket fence and what seemed to be, judging by what he could make out in the light coming from a nearby streetlamp, a circle of dried lavender decorating the plain wood door.

“I’ll wait until you get in before I take off,” he told her when they reached the covered front porch.

“All right.” She retrieved a key ring from her shoulder bag and opened the door, then switched on an inside light and turned back to him. “Thank you again for…” Stopping in midsentence, she stared up at him, her gaze narrowing. “You are hurt. There’s blood on your lip.”

That came as no surprise, since he’d started tasting it when they were halfway to her place. “It’s nothing,” he said.

“It’s something,” she replied with a trace of the brisk tone he more often associated with her. “Come in and let me have a look at it.”

He thought about declining. But it could be he’d get another opportunity to bring up the subject of buying her out. Deciding to take his chances, he said, “Okay,” and let her lead him into the house.

The inside seemed as homey as the outside, Dev concluded with a glance around the living room. Again everything looked far from new, but it also looked comfortable, even cozy—a lot cozier, certainly, than anywhere he’d ever lived.

Amanda laid the book she’d been carrying on a small end table and propped her leather shoulder bag on top of it. “Take off your jacket and have a seat,” she told him as she switched on a short brass lamp. “I’ll be right back with a washcloth and the first aid kit.”

He obeyed orders, tossed both his jacket and hat on an overstuffed moss-green chair and sat down on a plump flowered sofa. His gaze was drawn to a photo standing on a narrow wood wall shelf, one he recognized as a shot of a younger Amanda with her mother, who he recalled had passed away about ten years earlier after a short illness. By then, Amanda’s father had long since left town, and under circumstances no one living in Jester at the time had probably forgotten.

Dev leaned his head against the back on the sofa and waited for his hostess to return, then waited some more before he finally began to wonder if something was wrong. Could she be the one who was really injured? After all, she’d been putting up a considerable struggle when he’d yanked Feldon away from her.

She might not appreciate his roaming around her place, but he was going to check on her anyway, he decided. If she got teed off, well she’d been teed off at him plenty already.

Dev got up and started down a narrow hallway toward the rear of the house. Off to one side, he saw light spilling through an open doorway. Not about to stop now, he kept going and soon poked his head in what turned out to be a small bathroom. There, he found Amanda standing at the sink with thin tears running down her cheeks.

She jumped when she spotted him. “I was coming back in a minute,” she said, brushing the tears away. Her face had gone nearly as pale as the high-necked white blouse she wore with pleated wool trousers.

“If that jerk hurt you, I’ll see he pays for it.” It was as firm a promise as Dev could make it. God, he hated to see a woman cry. He’d rather take a solid punch in the chest.

Amanda shook her head. “No, he didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, really.” She sighed. “It’s just…been a long day.”

Which it may have been, Dev allowed, but he didn’t think that was all of it. If Amanda Bradley could hold her own with him—and she had on many occasions—it was hard to believe she’d wind up teary-eyed unless there was a damn good reason for it. Not, he reminded himself, that it was any of his business.

He leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms across the twin front pockets of his denim shirt. “Want to patch me up now?”

Sighing again, this time in what might have been relief that he hadn’t pressed the subject, she nodded and reached up to open the mirrored medicine cabinet. “As long as you’re here, why don’t you wash the blood off first?”

He did, making quick work of cleaning the cut at a corner of his lower lip. Then he propped a hip against the sink and let her fuss over him. As close as they were, he couldn’t help but catch a whiff of the subtle floral scent coming from the person whose pink-tinged mouth, currently pursed in concentration, continued to fascinate him. As to why it fascinated him, he still hadn’t figured that one out.

Right now he did his best to ignore the fact that they were standing a scant inch from each other, telling himself that he’d been without a woman for too long if certain parts of him could even threaten to get stirred up at a time like this. Then the sting of the antiseptic regained his full attention in a hurry.

“Sorry,” she said at his brief flinch.

“No problem.”

The job was done and they were back in the living room in a matter of moments. It was time to take off, Dev knew. Trouble was, the remembered sight of those tears was still eating at him.

“Look,” he said as he reached down for his jacket, “I know it’s flat-out none of my concern, but probably no one knows better than I do that for a small person, you can also be a pretty tough one when your back’s up. To get as upset as you obviously were a few minutes ago, something more than a long day has to be behind it.”

Her gaze met his. “As you said, it’s none of your…” Her voice trailed off as the starch suddenly seemed to go right out of her. She walked over to the sofa and sank onto a plump cushion. “I just need some sleep,” she murmured—more to herself than to him, it seemed, as though she were talking out loud. “I can’t keep tossing and turning night after night.”

He set his jacket down again. “Sounds like you’ve got things on your mind.”

She glanced at him and exhaled a short breath. “You could say so.”

Maybe her store was doing even worse than he’d figured. That was all he could come up with. And if that was the problem, he knew he could offer her a quick solution. “If it’s business—” he started to say before she halted him with a slight wave of one hand.

“I wish it were as straightforward as something to do with business,” she told him.

“Then what is it?” he asked, deciding to be blunt about it. Maybe it was none of his concern, but now that his curiosity was roused, he couldn’t let it go, either. Not unless she kicked him out.

But for once, Amanda Bradley didn’t seem capable of doing that, and as if recognizing she was stuck with him, she said, “What I’ve got on my mind involves four young children.” She paused for a beat. “Relatives, actually.”

That caught Dev off guard. “Relatives?” he repeated after a moment.

“Yes,” she said, again meeting his gaze. “These particular children happen to be my sisters and brothers.”

What? He realized his mouth was in danger of falling open. She was an only child who’d moved to Jester with her parents when she was just a slip of a girl. He knew that as well as he knew his own name. Hell, everyone who’d been in town for a while knew it.

“How in the world,” he had to ask her, “can you have sisters and brothers?”

“I can if my father had more children after he left Jester. Which, I just recently learned, he did.”

Chapter Two

There, it was out, what she’d kept to herself for days.

And having shared it with someone, Amanda had to concede that she felt better. True, she’d never expected to share it with the man who continued to stare down at her. Not any more than she’d expected to find him in her living room. In fact, if anyone had told her that morning that she’d be tending to Dev Devlin’s wounds before the day was over, she would have questioned their sanity. Just as he’d looked ready to question hers moments ago.

“Technically,” he said as his expression settled into more thoughtful lines, “that means you have some half sisters and brothers.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but, to me, it’s one and the same. My father also fathered them, and even if I never saw them face-to-face, I’d still feel there’s nothing ‘half’ about our relationship.”

“Hmm. I suppose you’ve got a point.” He walked over and eased himself down on the other end of the sofa. “Do you plan on seeing them?”

The answer to that one, Amanda recognized, was far more complicated than a simple “yes,” even assuming he’d be satisfied with a single-word reply. She hadn’t missed the probing look accompanying his question. Still, she only had to tell him what she wanted to, and logic prompted her to consider the benefits of discussing as much as she felt comfortable doing. After all, she’d already discovered how a small weight could be lifted from her shoulders by sharing some information.

“I do plan on seeing them,” she replied at last. “In fact, ever since I learned about them days ago, I’ve been determined to at least do that much.”

“I take it,” he said, “that up until then you didn’t know about them at all.”

“Not until I received a phone call from an attorney who not only told me they existed, but that they were orphans and wards of the state.”

It took him less than a minute to absorb that information. “Which means your father is…” His voice trailed off as his expression sobered.

Although Amanda’s throat tightened, she was determined not to shed any more tears. “Yes, I was told that he passed away a year ago in Minnesota.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were simply spoken but seemed completely genuine.

“Thank you,” she said.

And that was all she would say on the subject of her father’s death, the details of which she had no intention of discussing with him, or anyone else in Jester. The town’s longtime residents already had memories of Sherman Bradley, and one of them was hardly flattering. They didn’t need to know everything.

As if he had no trouble recalling that less-than-flattering episode in her family’s history, Dev said, “So after your father, ah, left Jester, he went to Minnesota?”

“You mean after he ran off with Rita Winslow, his attractive young co-worker at the savings and loan,” she corrected, deciding to be candid about what they both knew was the blunt truth of the matter. “Yes, they apparently chose to put some distance between themselves and this town.” In the process, they’d left her and probably most everyone in Jester in a state of shock, Amanda remembered. Up until a few days after her fifteenth birthday, her always dapperly dressed father had been a well-respected accountant, one many considered the image of the ideal family man. Then, just like that, he was gone.

In the months that followed, her mother had filed for a divorce on the grounds of desertion, and five years later Mary Bradley had quietly passed away after a short illness with only her daughter, who’d made a hasty trip back from college, at her side.

“Eventually,” Amanda said, forging on with her story, “my father and Rita Winslow were married, and years later when she found herself a widow, Rita returned to Pine Run, where she was born and raised, even though she had no family left in the area.” Just twenty miles away, Amanda reflected, but she’d had no idea that the larger town southwest of Jester had once again become home to her father’s second wife.

“With Rita,” she continued, “came the children she and my father had brought into the world. A girl who’s now seven years old, two boys now five and four, and another girl, only a baby really, who’s eighteen months old.”

Dev stretched out his long legs and stacked one booted foot over the other. “Sounds as though they waited a while to have kids.”