Forbidden Fire

Chapter 1

Browning, Kansas—1872

Reverend Jake Payne wasn’t accustomed to staring at a woman’s exposed bosom. At least not anymore.

But her voice surprised him. Deep cultured tones seemed to reverberate around him long after her full lips closed. Judging from the low-cut dress she wore and the saloon she commanded, he had expected a harsh broken sound.

Is there something I can help you with? she repeated, curbing her impatience with flawless decorum despite the army of carpenters and workmen trooping through the saloon.

Yes, he replied, wondering if the beauty mark gracing her cheekbone was an artifice.

Her velvety brown eyes continued to stare at him in question, jolting him to ask, Could you direct me to Mr. O’Shea?

There is no Mr. O’Shea.

But I have a letter from him and Morgan Tremaine.

I’m Katherine O’Shea. Mr. Tremaine is my partner.

The unfamiliar collar around his neck seemed to constrict his throat even further. The letter had been signed K. O’Shea, but he didn’t need a second glance to know she wasn’t a mister. Could I speak to Morgan Tremaine?

Jake watched her expression tighten slightly before she nodded, still impeccably polite. Certainly.

Before she disappeared, Jake gazed appreciatively at her retreating form. When they returned, he could see that Morgan Tremaine was more what he expected. Although Morgan had left off the customary long black frock coat in deference to the work in progress, the dark-haired man still wore a billowing white shirt, string tie, flashy vest, and black trousers. Yep, a picture-perfect gambler. Exactly what Jake’s congregation had feared. But the gaze that met his was direct, the expression inquiring yet fair-tempered.

You looking for me?

Yes, I have a letter from you and Miss O’Shea that we need to discuss. Jake wished suddenly he was anywhere but here on this fool’s mission.

Who are you? Morgan’s dark eyes swept over him curiously.

Sorry. I’m Jake—that is…Reverend Payne. He could have sworn both sets of eyebrows rose in unison at his announcement.

What can we do for you, Reverend? Morgan’s voice sounded evenly measured, but Jake sensed a note of amusement lurking beneath its smooth tone.

Could we talk in your office? Jake asked.

My office is about as comfortable as an outhouse right now, Reverend. This’ll have to do.

If you’ll excuse us, Miss O’Shea—

No, I’m afraid not. Whatever concerns this saloon concerns me. Morgan and I are equal partners. While the melodious cadence of her voice hadn’t changed perceptibly, there was no mistaking the steel lacing her words.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Jake plunged ahead. It’s about the lease of this land.

Yes? Katherine’s voice held more than idle curiosity.

The town council didn’t know you intended to tear the old church down and build a saloon.

So? Katherine questioned.

That wasn’t the intent when they agreed to the lease. Jake tried to keep a convincing expression on his face. In his opinion the town council should have investigated first. Since they hadn’t, he figured they ought to live with the results. But the town founders disagreed. Vehemently.

Morgan Tremaine straightened one of the ornate light globes on the wall as he spoke. As I recall, there weren’t any restrictions on the lease. And we did offer to buy the property straight out.

The town doesn’t want to sell the land in case the church wants to expand. He’d thought it was a lame idea then. He had argued the town should keep the land for a school and not lease it out, but Able Browning was greedy. He wanted the revenue the lot would generate.

You planned to expand here? Morgan couldn’t keep the incredulousness from his voice as he gazed around the opulent room.

Jake felt like the fool he knew he sounded. In the future, Mr. Tremaine—

Morgan. Then why did you agree to lease the land?

Your lease is for only five years. A fact the town fathers now bitterly regretted. They wanted Jake to get rid of the saloon now. Not in a few years, or even in a few months, but immediately.

We have your written agreement giving us permission to tear down the old structure, Katherine answered instead.

"That structure was a church," Jake reminded her, remembering the tiny chapel that had been his first church. The town had ruthlessly discarded the old building in favor of a far more impressive one. Part of him felt a niggle of satisfaction at the result.

Katherine shrugged. I don’t know that you made that clear. Regardless, it has no effect on the business we plan to open.

No effect? Jake felt the first stirring of healthy anger. He didn’t want either side thinking him a fool. Unless you’re blind, you must’ve noticed that the new church is next door.

Morgan’s lazy voice was now definitely laced with humor. At least you won’t have to go far to find your sinners.

Katherine stepped away from the brass railing that surrounded the floor of the bar. The town has other saloons. Why such concern about ours?

The church members are worried about the construction of more saloons. Especially one of this size and… He paused.

Magnificence? Katherine supplied in that unusual voice.

Jake admitted it was that and more. The townspeople had watched the arrival of the furnishings with great interest. Resplendent cut-glass chandeliers swung from the high ceiling while diamond-dust mirrors hung behind the most elaborate marble and mahogany bar he’d ever seen.

The place even outshone the saloons he’d once haunted in Denver and Abilene. Every cowhand swarming the trails would hear of this palace and rush to its doors. If the other women in their employ were of Katherine’s caliber, he had no doubt it would be the most successful saloon to open for business since the cattle trails had found their way to Kansas. It was exactly what he was supposed to stop single-handedly.

This wasn’t what we expected, Jake said finally.

Why didn’t you question what kind of business we planned to operate before now? Katherine asked, her huge brown eyes and heart-shaped face capturing his complete attention.

We assumed you wanted a big piece of land like this for a mercantile or dry goods store. The other saloons aren’t worth worrying about.

Unlike ours? Katherine replied.

Did you think we could guess you were building something like this? Jake asked, looking about him. The saloon was like a lone blood red rose growing straight out of a bed of weeds.

But you did make enough money to build a larger church, isn’t that right, Mr. Payne? Katherine asked, intelligence sparking those captivating eyes.

Money isn’t the issue. Or shouldn’t be, Jake thought.

What else then, Reverend? Morgan Tremaine didn’t abandon his languid pose, but Jake sensed he was all attention beneath his unconcerned exterior.

The town doesn’t want to be turned into another Abilene, Jake answered somewhat uncomfortably.

And you think we’re doing that? Jake could swear it was pleasure he heard in the other man’s voice.

It was hard to believe but true. Browning wouldn’t be the first tiny Kansas town to change overnight. Now it was merely a cluster of ramshackle buildings jutting from a sea of prairie grass with a main street that was scarcely more than a wide dusty path. But the Crystal Palace could change all of that.

Katherine’s skirt swished over the wooden floor as she turned directly toward Jake. He noticed that her eyes were an even deeper brown than he’d first realized, and her long upswept hair was closer to the color of midnight than either brown or black. Those dark eyes now flashed as she spoke.

We tried to buy property fronting on Main Street. Your Mr. Browning said none was available for sale, only this plot for lease. Since the nature of our business rarely keeps us in a town more than a few years, a lease is sufficient for our purposes. I don’t believe there’s anything else to discuss, unless your flock wants to know what day we plan to fling open the doors. Now, I’ll thank you to excuse me. I have genuine concerns to worry about.

Jake stared as she spoke, convinced the beauty mark must indeed be as real as the rest of her extraordinary looks. He didn’t realize he hadn’t replied until the last of her skirts disappeared behind the huge door to the rear. Morgan Tremaine cleared his throat, and Jake whipped around.

She has that effect on most men, Reverend. No need to be embarrassed.

Fact was, Jake wasn’t embarrassed. He’d hate to have to put a name to just what he was feeling, but he knew it wouldn’t fit his new occupation.

Morgan ambled to the other side of the bar. How about something to drink? We’re bound to have something here besides whiskey. Morgan’s irreverent grin flashed. That is, unless you want to taste the competition.

Katherine closed the door of her study behind her, her chest rising and falling with repressed emotion. It had been too many years to count since she’d been part of the saloon life. And separate from anything society approved.

Her eyes flickered shut briefly as she remembered a different time. Nearly as quickly, her eyes sprang open. Reverend Payne hardly looked like the moral conscience of this dusty little town. If anything, he looked as if he’d be one of the saloon’s first customers. The old ache returned, and Katherine crossed over to what would soon be her office. She ran her hand over the scarred desk that had traveled with her the past ten years.

Hearing the door open, she abandoned her musing and glanced up, her mask of control in place.

Miss Katherine?

Katherine relaxed as she gazed at Daphne’s timid face. Although one of the most enticing women in her employ, Katherine knew Daphne to be a great actress, hiding her shyness beneath a lithesome cover. Problems?

Annette says the biggest room is hers and that Lucille and I should share a room so we can have an extra sitting room upstairs.

Katherine sighed. Annette had been and always would be difficult. But she was a favorite, making it next to impossible to dismiss her. Tell Annette that all the rooms are already assigned and that I will be upstairs shortly.

Daphne couldn’t quite hide the satisfaction on her face. It’ll be my pleasure.

With a sigh she sat down to tackle the documents that covered her desk. The door had been shut behind Daphne for less than an hour when a knock interrupted her again. Katherine resisted the urge to drop her head in her hands and scream in frustration. Setting up a new saloon was always difficult, but this was their biggest undertaking so far, and it was a wealth of work, endless details, and delays. She hoped the reverend hadn’t returned with his righteous flock. Instead Morgan’s impudent grin appeared around the doorway. Her relief was immediate and visible.

Problems? Morgan strolled in, taking the only other available chair and managing to appear completely relaxed despite the fact that he had to squeeze his long frame onto a tiny feminine chair.

What would you call Reverend Payne? Katherine rose from her desk to stare out at the dusty plain.

He doesn’t seem too bad.

You’re joking. Katherine turned and stared at Morgan in amazement. He came here hoping to shut us down. If our attorney hadn’t rewritten the contract, we might be out in the street sitting bag and baggage on top of that incredibly expensive bar.

Morgan shrugged, his unruffable calm in place. You worry too much.

And you don’t worry enough, she retorted.

Sounds like the making of a good team, he teased.

Thirteen years ago she’d needed a protector. Morgan had been a skinny boy barely a few years older, but he’d stepped into the role. He became the brother and champion she didn’t have. At times she couldn’t believe all the roads they’d traveled together. She glanced back out the window. And now those roads had led to Browning, Kansas.

The reverend isn’t too bad a sort, Morgan commented, picking up the paperweight on her desk and tossing it in the air.

Making friends with the enemy? Katherine searched his face while retrieving her paperweight. Usually Morgan was swift and instinctively accurate about people he met. In his line of business, he had to be.

The reverend says he’s not giving up. If possible, Morgan scrunched even deeper in the petite chair.

Katherine’s eyebrows rose. She didn’t have to remind her partner that she wouldn’t give up, either. She never had.

Morgan continued. Apparently our guardian watchdog lives next door.

At the church?

He chuckled at the horror in her voice. Parsonage was built behind it. Look, you can see it from your window.

Katherine stepped to the window and parted the intricate lace curtain. Her movement stilled as she observed Jake Payne’s rugged frame near the building beside them. He took off his hat, revealing a shaggy head of chestnut hair. Although clean-shaven, the rest of his appearance did not live up to what she would expect from a minister. She watched as he tossed his hat on the porch swing and then rolled up the sleeves of his cambric shirt, revealing heavily muscled forearms. His were not the arms of a man who toted a Bible for a living. Sunlight glinted against his face as he reached to unbutton his shirt.

Knowing she should turn away, Katherine instead watched as his fingers closed around each fastening. When he was about to pull the tails free and loosen the garment, he looked up unexpectedly. Katherine had neither the time nor the caution to step away from the window. When his eyes locked with hers, she froze. For seemingly endless moments, their gazes connected. When he turned away, Katherine knew this was no ordinary preacher.

Chapter 2

Katherine leaned forward, stretching on her tiptoes to attach the bird feeder to the tree limb.

This is the serious work you had to do?

She whirled around, nearly losing her footing. I hardly think my actions are your concern, Reverend.

Jake, he corrected. Guess they’re not.

Some of her considerable indignation faded. Pushing a wave of heavy hair back from her face, Katherine tried to maintain her composure.

You like birds? he said, reaching out to touch the finely carved wooden feeder.

Is that an acceptable pastime? Katherine’s tone wasn’t pleasant, and she was startled by the sudden grin that split his face. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. What is it?

You.

Me?

You’re determined to be contrary, and I’m not sure why.

Katherine tried not to react to the gleam of laughter in his eyes and the cleft his chin formed as he repressed that same laughter. I would think that would be obvious. Reverend.

Jake, he insisted.

I believe it’s better for us to keep our relationship strictly professional. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and she flushed at the double entendre. He was hardly a likely customer for the saloon’s whiskey and gambling. I meant as landlord and tenant, of course.

Of course.

She wished he’d quit smiling like that. She preferred his somber regard of the day before to his open grin.

Was there something you wanted?

His smile remained in place. You.

Katherine tried to ignore the thundering blood that swirled alarmingly through her body. Excuse me?

I’d like to set up a chicken coop behind the house, and I wanted to make sure the roosters wouldn’t disturb you.

Of course. Roosters. He hadn’t really meant he’d wanted her. Feeling incredibly ridiculous, she tried to focus on the question at hand. I don’t see any objection.

They’ll crow early every morning, he warned.

Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Because the saloon stayed open till the wee hours of the morning, everyone slept till around noon.

I could put a garden back there instead.

Her eyes lit up at the thought, and she turned aside, hoping he wouldn’t see her enthusiasm. After all, it would be his garden, not hers. She couldn’t remember when she’d last had the satisfaction of digging in rich soil and watching seeds sprout. Gardening was one of the few things in life that came full cycle, that could be savored and not snatched away. Whatever you think is best, she finally murmured.

Now that I think on it, a garden would probably be more practical. He took the birdseed from her hands without permission and poured a liberal amount into the feeder. But I don’t know anything about putting a garden in.

I see.

I don’t suppose you know anything about planting?

Katherine examined the filled bird feeder as she answered casually, I’ve done a little in the past.

Great. You can tell me what seeds to buy.

Not allowing her to reply, he took her by the hand and tugged her toward the plot of ground at the rear of the parsonage. Too startled to protest, Katherine allowed herself to be pulled along in his strong grip. She had a momentary sensation of the strength in those hands coupled with a startling awareness of his touch upon her skin. But then they stood at the rear of his house, and he released her hand.

She wondered if this was his new tactic to get them to leave town. She doubted he’d had a change of heart and decided that she and Morgan were perfect neighbors. There’d been a trail of somber-looking men in and out of the church since his visit. She didn’t have to guess why. But he surprised her once more, talking again about the garden.

Sorry-looking piece of ground, he admitted, squatting amidst the wild grass and errant wildflowers. She watched in fascination as he picked up a fistful of dirt and allowed it to sift through his splayed hand. Think anything will grow here?

Katherine jerked her eyes away from his outstretched hand and the corded muscles of his arm. The lure of the land made her kneel down beside him. As she studied the ground, she thought how plentiful the land was here compared to the East. This boundless territory had always intrigued her. The only constraints were the people who populated the area.

What did you want to plant? she asked finally.

Jake shrugged. Corn, tomatoes, I guess. He gazed around at the fields of wild milk vetch and red clover. Yeah, that would be good.

Your housekeeper could get some good meals out of the vegetables.

I don’t have a housekeeper, Jake admitted.

You do your own cooking?

He grinned, and Katherine’s breath caught at the change in his face. Can’t say I do. But women seem to love to feed me.

I’ll bet they do. She’d expected fire and brimstone, not vegetables and beguiling blue eyes. He leaned closer to point out how deep the lot ran, and she forgot about anything else.

You don’t think I’d be wasting my time trying to put a garden in? he asked.

She snapped her mind away from its unlikely course. What was she thinking? He was a preacher, for heaven’s sake. Actually, if the ground were properly tilled, it would probably make a decent garden, she answered, running her fingers through the soil.

Tilled?

Do I take it you’re a city man, Reverend?

Jake. You could say that. I’m no farmer, that’s for certain.

Cowboy?

He laughed. I thought you knew what I did for a living.

Before. You weren’t always a preacher. Although her voice was quiet, its conviction was complete. And you didn’t spend your time sitting behind a desk or a counter.

In twenty-four hours she’d figured out more about him than most folks had in six months. Learning to be a good preacher’s important to me, Katherine. I’ve made a promise to myself, one I’ve got to keep.

Then it must be kept, she answered softly.

Gazing into the velvety depths of her deep brown eyes, he again sensed the danger he’d discovered yesterday. Danger he couldn’t afford to pursue. When his eyes continued traveling over her long shapely neck down to her full bosom and tiny waist, he was certain that old habits died hard. Abruptly he stood up. So, will you help me put in my garden?

Distracted momentarily, she gazed about the ground, longing to see it filled with beautiful growing things. I might be able to spare a little time.

Good.

She rose to leave, then paused. Perhaps while we’re planting you can finish telling me about your former occupation. Not waiting for his reply, she continued back into the saloon, letting the screen door thump behind her as she entered.

The smile left his eyes, and the lines around his mouth tightened. Seeing the excitement on her face, the idea of the garden had been spontaneous. But he knew he was dancing with the devil, and he wasn’t yet ready to pay his dues.

The contingent stood somber and indignant. Flanked on both sides of the bar at the Crystal Palace, they faced Vance Smith, the bartender, whom they’d interrupted in his unpacking. His closed expression didn’t reveal the tension that reverberated through the room.

We want to see the owner, a tall, fair-haired man demanded.

Who are you? Vance asked, giving no ground.

The man hesitated. Able Browning.

Vance cut his dark eyes in Browning’s direction and allowed a few moments to pass before he nodded toward the rear. When Browning started to turn the knob on Katherine’s office door, Vance’s voice barked out a command. Knock!

Browning’s face tightened, but he complied, noting Vance’s beefy physique and threatening stance. Browning was obviously surprised when Katherine’s melodic voice bade him to enter.

He opened the door, starting to voice his demands without introducing himself. See here, missy. We want to talk to the owner, not some saloon gal—

I am one of the owners. What do you want?

Taken aback, he stared and then narrowed his gaze. How do I know you’re telling the truth?

You don’t. However, you haven’t even given me the courtesy of your name, yet I’m speaking to you.

I’m Able Browning and—

Mr. Browning. And who are these gentlemen with you?

His four cohorts crowded into the office behind him, all gaping at Katherine. Apparently their indignation had momentarily been replaced by slack-jawed admiration. She smiled at them and was pleased to see more than one Adam’s apple bob.

Browning looked at his companions and snarled their names, more in warning to them than as an introduction. Ralph Turner, John Peterson, Frank Edwards, Lloyd Davis.

She nodded in turn to them, although she noticed each had visibly withdrawn and adopted their leader’s stance. What can I do for you?

You can shut this gin mill down, Browning demanded without preamble.

I’m afraid that won’t be possible, she returned pleasantly, steeling her voice at the same time.

This is our town, and we won’t see a saloon next to our church, missy. Browning moved closer to her desk, making his presence intimidating.

My name is Miss O’Shea, Mr. Browning. The lease doesn’t list any restrictions. So I’m afraid our business is concluded.

Not by a long shot. Either shut this place down, or we’ll burn it down.

As I told your minister yesterday, we have a five-year lease we intend to uphold. Katherine wondered if she imagined the distaste that flickered across Browning’s face. As for your threats, I’d be very careful, gentlemen.

She raised those luminous, intriguingly dark velvet eyes. Five sets of male eyes followed hers as their heads craned. She could see it took great effort for them not to jump in fright. Vance and three of her floorwalkers were positioned behind them, shotguns pointed at their backs.

Able Browning’s bearded face purpled in anger. Next time they won’t get the drop. Make no mistake. We’ll get you out of here. No matter what it takes. He stalked by the men holding shotguns. Browning’s entourage followed, not quite as confidently.

Miss Katherine?

It’s all right, Vance. I believe they understood our message.

Seemingly satisfied, he gestured for the others to lower their weapons, and they went back to their work. Katherine laid down her pen and rose to stare out the window. The plot behind the house next door mocked her. Had Jake known about this visit? A picture of his warm smile that morning refuted the idea, but the lingering threats in the air surfaced as she watched him leave the parsonage.

Chapter 3

You gotta learn that nothing’s simple with Katherine. Morgan finished pounding in the tomato stakes.

I’m beginning to see that. Jake gazed at the newly tilled land. It had taken them over a week, but he and Morgan had almost finished the heavy labor. Katherine insisted on doing all the planting herself, putting in the first rows as soon as that half of the plot was tilled. He was beginning to learn that the woman had a will of iron. In the weeks since she and Morgan had come to town, Jake’s existence had been livened up considerably. And they hadn’t even opened their saloon yet.

Morgan laid the hammer back with the other tools, wiping the sweat from his brow. What next, Jake?

I think we’re about to find out. He cut his eyes toward Katherine, who approached with her hands full. She’d dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, but his gaze wandered immediately to the opening of her blouse. Her pale porcelain skin peeked through the open top button, and his eyes traveled down to the fullness of her breasts that the shirt covered. Her attire was completely modest, but he could easily imagine her without it. Jake turned away, reminding himself that he was a preacher now. He’d thought the reminders would be needed less often by now. But since Katherine had become his neighbor, they’d increased considerably.

She cocked her head to one side, gazing critically at the upturned soil. "Satisfactory,