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  Forbidden Fire

  Bonnie K. Winn

  Copyright

  Diversion Books

  A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.

  443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1008

  New York, NY 10016

  www.DiversionBooks.com

  Copyright © 1994 by Bonnie K. Winn

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For more information, email [email protected]

  First Diversion Books edition October 2014

  ISBN: 978-1-62681-431-8

  More from Bonnie K. Winn

  Summer Rose

  Reckless Wind

  Reckless Hearts

  Forbidden Fire

  In memory of Max Thomas Winn, 1921–1993. The path you trod overflowed with generosity, kindness, and love. Briner will carry your memory and legacy for all the generations to follow. You will always be missed and never forgotten. We love you, Pop.

  Dedicated to my agent, Jane Jordan Browne, and my editor, Judith Stern. You made this book possible with your belief. Thank you.

  Acknowledgments

  The creation of a book is much like the construction of our lives—propped up and held together by family and friends. Fortunately I have the best of both. A very special thanks goes to Karen Rigley—you helped lay the foundation of this book, inspected the mortar for cracks, and remained a constant, supporting presence through it all. Donna Hobbs—thanks for always keeping the cement stirred. Howard, Brian, and my wonderful parents—you’re the glue through it all.

  Arise, my love, my fair one,

  and come away;

  for lo, the winter is past,

  the rain is over and gone.

  The flowers appear on the earth,

  the time of singing has come.

  Song of Solomon

  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 w
hile 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?”