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Authors: Sharon Ihle
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cheating gambler—I don't see what we have left to talk about."
"You're still mad at me?"
She should have been madder than hell—Lord, if she shouldn't still have been angry enough to pound a few knots on his head—but for some reason, every drop of her outrage had sizzled away to nothing. It was probably that innocent act he was giving her, the charismatic charm-the-bloomers-off-a-nun grin he displayed whenever he thought he might be in trouble. "Of course I'm still mad," she said, unable to force any harshness in her tone. "But it seems I've calmed down considerably."
"Then we do have something to talk about. I really want to help you, now more than ever. Do you believe that?"
She didn't want to, but Libby knew she had to try to trust him a little if she were to stay in San Francisco long enough to confront R. T. Savage. She definitely required help from someone, and since Donovan was the only person she knew in all of California, her choices were narrow. Either she tossed her lot in with his—on her terms, of course—or she went back to Laramie empty-handed.
Determined to hang onto her newspaper and the fight for equal rights at almost any cost, she said truthfully, "I'm not sure what I believe where you're concerned or if there is a way you could help me now."
"There are several ways in which I can help. The first is the easiest—I'd make an excellent choice as an escort when you go to the depot to catch the train back to Laramie. Can I help you pack?"
"Absolutely not. I'm not going anywhere yet."
"I didn't think so." He favored Libby with a smile, not his usual smug or mocking expression, but one of admiration, she thought. "I guess that means you're planning to stay in San Francisco until R. T. returns?"
"That's right, even if I have to sleep on the bench in front of the Savage building until then."
He nodded thoughtfully. "You already informed me that you can't afford a hotel room, so I figure, after what I put you through, I owe you at least room and board. You can stay here, if you like, until you get your business at Savage Publishing straightened out."
Libby hesitated, even though she was very tempted to accept. Donovan was right about her lack of funds, but how could she stay here with him after what they'd just shared? "I don't think that, well, after what happened, it would be very wise of me to stay with you."
He arched one ebony brow and flashed that devastating grin. "I thought you'd forgotten about my little... indiscretion."
"I have." Donovan's bluntness startled her, and Libby had to look away as she considered the offer again. How was she to forget what they'd shared, with him standing so close to her, reminding her about it. "It's just that I'm not sure—"
"There's really nothing for you to worry about. You have my word as a gentleman that you'll be quite safe."
Libby gave him a skeptical look. Now that she knew him to be a gambler and saloon-owner, not the respectable son of a publishing scion, her staying here with him—alone, no less—was even more scandalous and improper than ever, but she honestly couldn't think of another viable choice.
"Oh, all right," she said. "I accept your hospitality. It might even go a long way toward making up for some of the dastardly lies you've told me. Just be sure you don't tell anyone that I'm here—certainly none of the Savages—and stay out of my way when it's time for me, not you, to keep that appointment with R. T. when he returns."
"Try not to be so blasted independent for once, would you? Whether you like it or not, you can use my help at Savage Publishing."
"Oh, no, I can't, so the matter's closed."
"The satchel, remember? I have to keep the appointment in order to return Andrew's belongings and inform the poor man of his son's death. You surely don't want to be put in a position of explaining that to him, do you?"
Libby realized that if she tried to see the old man before Donovan explained about Andrew, that R. T. would be full of
"You're still mad at me?"
She should have been madder than hell—Lord, if she shouldn't still have been angry enough to pound a few knots on his head—but for some reason, every drop of her outrage had sizzled away to nothing. It was probably that innocent act he was giving her, the charismatic charm-the-bloomers-off-a-nun grin he displayed whenever he thought he might be in trouble. "Of course I'm still mad," she said, unable to force any harshness in her tone. "But it seems I've calmed down considerably."
"Then we do have something to talk about. I really want to help you, now more than ever. Do you believe that?"
She didn't want to, but Libby knew she had to try to trust him a little if she were to stay in San Francisco long enough to confront R. T. Savage. She definitely required help from someone, and since Donovan was the only person she knew in all of California, her choices were narrow. Either she tossed her lot in with his—on her terms, of course—or she went back to Laramie empty-handed.
Determined to hang onto her newspaper and the fight for equal rights at almost any cost, she said truthfully, "I'm not sure what I believe where you're concerned or if there is a way you could help me now."
"There are several ways in which I can help. The first is the easiest—I'd make an excellent choice as an escort when you go to the depot to catch the train back to Laramie. Can I help you pack?"
"Absolutely not. I'm not going anywhere yet."
"I didn't think so." He favored Libby with a smile, not his usual smug or mocking expression, but one of admiration, she thought. "I guess that means you're planning to stay in San Francisco until R. T. returns?"
"That's right, even if I have to sleep on the bench in front of the Savage building until then."
He nodded thoughtfully. "You already informed me that you can't afford a hotel room, so I figure, after what I put you through, I owe you at least room and board. You can stay here, if you like, until you get your business at Savage Publishing straightened out."
Libby hesitated, even though she was very tempted to accept. Donovan was right about her lack of funds, but how could she stay here with him after what they'd just shared? "I don't think that, well, after what happened, it would be very wise of me to stay with you."
He arched one ebony brow and flashed that devastating grin. "I thought you'd forgotten about my little... indiscretion."
"I have." Donovan's bluntness startled her, and Libby had to look away as she considered the offer again. How was she to forget what they'd shared, with him standing so close to her, reminding her about it. "It's just that I'm not sure—"
"There's really nothing for you to worry about. You have my word as a gentleman that you'll be quite safe."
Libby gave him a skeptical look. Now that she knew him to be a gambler and saloon-owner, not the respectable son of a publishing scion, her staying here with him—alone, no less—was even more scandalous and improper than ever, but she honestly couldn't think of another viable choice.
"Oh, all right," she said. "I accept your hospitality. It might even go a long way toward making up for some of the dastardly lies you've told me. Just be sure you don't tell anyone that I'm here—certainly none of the Savages—and stay out of my way when it's time for me, not you, to keep that appointment with R. T. when he returns."
"Try not to be so blasted independent for once, would you? Whether you like it or not, you can use my help at Savage Publishing."
"Oh, no, I can't, so the matter's closed."
"The satchel, remember? I have to keep the appointment in order to return Andrew's belongings and inform the poor man of his son's death. You surely don't want to be put in a position of explaining that to him, do you?"
Libby realized that if she tried to see the old man before Donovan explained about Andrew, that R. T. would be full of
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