Amanda shook herself and returned to the devious plan she’d hatched to turn the tables on the Lothario. She loathed plunging on but she must. She just prayed for an outcome that wouldn’t break her heart.
“Would you mind terribly removing your gloves?” She flashed a bright smile, confident in her feminine wiles. And so far, Payton McCord swallowed the entire lasso, knot and all. “I know it sounds ridiculous, and I don’t normally go around asking it of strangers, but I do have a reason.”
“Can’t imagine what or how it possibly pertains to me.”
His black scowl indicated the first sign of balking. This called for a lot more sneakiness. Perhaps she should throw in a bit of candor-to a point.
“You see, I have no way of recognizing the person I’m meeting other than by a certain mark.”
Payton scowled. “A mark. On his hand I take it?”
“I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Amanda rose, gathering her valise and her pride. “My problems shouldn’t concern you.”
“No, please. It appears both Wyness and your…appointment…stood us up.” He untangled his legs and sprang to his feet. “Let’s hash this out over coffee? Or tea. I feel obliged to help a pretty damsel in distress.”
“Very kind. How can I refuse a…true gentleman?”
“You can’t.”
She handed him the valise and accepted his elbow. Heads turned when they entered the dining room and for once Amanda couldn’t tell if they stared at her, the mutton woman, or the devilishly handsome wrangler. He pulled out her chair and waited until she sat down before taking a seat.
Tiny details caught her notice-the quiver that rippled through muscles in his arm when she brushed it, the solid feel of his tall frame, and the genuine warmth enfolding her that chased away the ever-present chill in her veins for a moment.
Hmmmmm…Despite apprehension, she could do far worse than having refreshment with a cowboy. Not just any though. Payton seemed special.
Besides, should he turn out to be the author of the love letters, and if he had written them for the purpose of making her a bigger laughingstock, her plot would succeed. Everyone would see him keeping company with a lowly sheepherder. Nothing else would ruin a staunch cattleman’s reputation faster.
But if he had and the declaration of love was genuine?
Somehow her vision didn’t seem as clear now.
Strange that he hadn’t mentioned the love letters once or shown an inclination he knew her. She could’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion from the outset. Damaging someone like Payton seemed wrong, particularly if he penned the words from deep inside. It might do more than leave his reputation in shambles. Picking up pieces of a heart…that was something in which she was well versed. She steeled herself against the pain and clenched her jaw. Reality was a harsh taskmaster. Better she let the chips fall.
Payton McCord had to be the one. He was the best candidate out of the gathering in the lobby-four who entered with wives and two others who appeared on their last leg, slipping fast and probably with reservations for the undertaker.
Then there was the matter with the initials. Yes, McCord was Lothario all right. And she had to protect herself. Time to get at the truth.
With the valise at her feet and napkin in her lap, she met Payton’s reserved perusal and tilted forward. His gaze meandered to the rounded tops of her bosom where he lingered for a long second. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.
She let her fingertips rest on his gloved hand. “Mr. McCord, thank you so much for taking pity on me.”
“Payton…I insist. I’m not one to stand on formality.” Lines around the corners of his mouth and an interesting cleft in his chin deepened with his grin.
No, he was more for trying to run her off her land and back to New Mexico more likely. Memories of Santa Fe, distasteful and hideous, lodged in the hole in her chest.
“In that case, Payton it is.”
“I believe you were going to explain some quandary you’re in with a fellow you don’t know. I get the impression you don’t truly wish to be here. So why do something you might regret, something that may bring you to rack and ruin?”
Ruination wouldn’t be hers if she could help it. Wait until he got a look at what she’d packed inside her valise.
The waiter arrived at that moment to take their order then retreated with a huff after they’d only wanted coffee.
“We’ll get to that.” She stared deep into his eyes, her fingertips massaging the back of his gloved hand. “First, let’s enjoy the moment and these beautiful surroundings.”
“I agree. The Amarillo Hotel is magnificent. My boss, Mr. Sanborn, sure has an eye for high living. He built one of the finest establishments north of Austin.” Payton released a sharp breath when Amanda removed her fingers to idly trace the swirls on the tablecloth.
Good. She’d lured him further onto the patch of quicksand.
Payton’s hand shook slightly as he raked back a thick lock of hair. She flashed the biggest smile in her arsenal.
“You know, I think you’re the first man I’ve seen who doesn’t wear a Stetson. Most everyone sports one of some sort. I have this old floppy straw hat I wear on the ranch.”
“Lost mine. The darn thing blew away in a wind storm and I never found it. Probably in Louisiana by now. Before I head back to the Frying Pan today I have to go by the mercantile.”
Blew away? Amanda lifted the water glass to hide the jolt.
If the hat she’d found belonged to Payton it no longer bore the shape of one. And Fraser seemed to like his new dish.
“Odd, isn’t it, how things do tend to disappear?” She clutched the napkin and drew it down the length of her throat in an excruciating crawl. The green gaze widened, following the sliding, downward waltz. “It’s rather warm in here.”
With abrupt impatience, Payton peeled off the gloves and wiped his palms on the tablecloth. “Indeed it is. Very hot.”
Suddenly Amanda’s stomach whirled.
What had she done?
Chapter 4
Payton’s attention strayed from Amanda’s come-hither pose when Joe entered the dining room.
Shenanigans of the rotten kind swirled. Payton shifted in the chair. Whatever they were up to reeked to high heaven.
Joe grabbed the empty seat at their table, making himself at home. Payton didn’t care much for his friend’s goofy grin or the way he stared at Amanda.
“Don’t you have anything better to do besides bother us, Joe? Cows to brand? Chickens to feed? A wife to cajole?”
“Boss gave us the day off. Thought we’d come watch.”
Twisting and turning in Payton’s gut made him dizzy. Watch what? He wasn’t some bug under a light. Romancing a charming, beautiful woman didn’t call for an audience. But, maybe that was it-they wanted to see in action someone who shied away from things of the heart. Lord knows he scoffed at it often enough. How in Sam hell did they know Amanda would be at the hotel though? He had some square pegs that wouldn’t fit in round holes.
